True Confessions of a Duquesne Boy

Posted on February 23, 2011 by Jim

My wife Judy and I recently received some news that put us over the top with happiness! We are about to become grandparents for the very first time! My oldest daughter, Megan, is due at the end of July and we couldn’t be happier! We also found out about 2 weeks ago, that our grandchild in the making, was going to be a boy!!! His name will be Jackson (at least for the moment) and we are thrilled, and are as anxious for his arrival as the parents themselves!

One of the many thoughts that went through my head was how my daughter would probably tell Jackson stories about Judy and me. When Judy was growing up, I am told that she was a joy to her parents, the ideal youngest child! I’m sure Megan will cite countless examples to Jackson of how his grandmother always helped around the house, listened to her parents and did so well in school. He could never have a better example, behavior or person to aspire to.

I get the sneaking feeling that I may not serve as the same type of example. In what I hope is a very loving and sentimental way, I might be what I call the “Glamour Don’t” of behavior. I was never a bad kid. I would say that I was more of a “free spirit” type of child, always pushing the boundaries a bit. I never got into really “bad” trouble, but I always managed to do something that would make my mom and dad shake their heads either in disbelief or frustration.

As a grandfather, since I will probably become the subject of family folklore, I thought it best to come clean about a few things. I look at this as a soul cleansing of sorts. Things that I may not have admitted to doing to my parents, but things I’m sure I was always suspected of. Here goes…………

The truth of the matter is that in contrast to the things that kids have to keep them occupied today, as a boy growing up in Duquesne, we were more dependent on seeking out our own entertainment. TV was reserved for evening viewing, and then, perhaps only for an hour or so. I do remember that Mom allowed me to watch Looney Tunes on WJAC TV Channel 6, out of Johnston, Pa. before dinner each day, but that was about it.

As a result of having to find my own adventures, I found myself in difficult situations at times. For example, there was the time that my brother Steve, my cousin Paula Goldman and I were waiting for my dad to drive us home after school at Holy Name. Dad always parked his car in front of his service station on S. 1st Street. We would patiently wait for him to break away from whatever car he was repairing to give us a ride up hill to Thomas Street. When I was in 1st or 2nd grade, my dad was driving a Willy’s Jeep. It had to be one that had been salvaged from some military stint somewhere. It was olive drab green and about as stripped down as you could get. It must have been a 1946 or 47 model. It had this small round pedal that he would press to start the Jeep and I always thought it was so interesting. So, as my older brother, my cousin Paula and I waited patiently for Dad, I decided to press the starter. To me it seemed like a perfectly fine thing to do, especially  since I had never me told NOT to do it. I quickly learned the basics of starters and engaged transmissions when I pushed that little bugger. I managed to ram the front end of the Jeep directly into my dad’s garage as the car lunged forward. Fortunately, no one was hurt, not even the Jeep or the garage. I almost got away with it except for the fact that my dad saw the whole thing and Paula was screaming! Imagine, having your first auto accident at age 6!

Which brings me to my next transgression. As I freely admitted in an earlier post, I was my mom’s worse nightmare since I was a picky eater. That pickiness led to my running away from home when I was about 4 years old. I recall that the whole incident was caused by my refusal to eat something that my mom was fixing for dinner. I was playing on the sidewalk in front of our driveway, and it was a Friday afternoon. Dad was still at the garage and I was trying to build a little fort for my plastic army men using  some stones I had found. Mom came out and told me to come inside and clean-up for dinner. I asked what we were having, and she announced that we were having pea soup and cheese sandwiches. I immediately went into my “picky panic mode” and began to protest (aka – cry) about having to even taste green gross soup. Of course, I had never tried it, but I made the quick decision that I was going to hate it. Rather than face the HORROR of have to consume a green colored liquid, my 4 year old brain told me it would be best if I just ran away and eliminate the need to face the food.

Without any provisions, I trotted my little butt up St. Joseph’s Cemetery hill. It made perfect sense to me. I had no fear of cemeteries, so I just darted in between the gravestones and found my way to what I thought would be the perfect hiding place. NOW Mom would be sorry she made that soup! I parked myself in the bushes that surrounded the concrete statue of the Sacred Heart near the Mifflin Street gate and the Ground Keeper’s garage. I can’t remember how long I sat there before I first began hearing people calling my name. My dad told me in later years, that my mom panicked immediately, and recruited all of the neighbors to look for me within minutes of my “escape.” I was bound and determined not to be found, so I just sat quietly in the bushes while familiar voices called out my name. I heard Anna Yasko, my Aunt Mary and Uncle Lou, Mrs. Snyder and Mrs. Gregory. I was in the clear until the neighbor who would become my nemesis in later years added the three magic words that lured me out of the bushes. I heard Rudy Gregory call out, “Jimmy!  I HAVE COOKIES!!”  As soon as I heard that, I was out of the bushes in a flash. Seriously, when it comes to pea soup vs. cookies, you KNOW who won!!  Imagine my disappointment when the hand that I reached out to grab the cookies with was latched onto by “the pea soup maker!!!” I never had to worry about having to eat pea soup that night, for I was sent to bed with supper. However, in Mom’s most caring voice, she told me the next day that she had saved the soup for me to have that night while everyone else had hamburgers. Even water boarding is no match for a Mom’s revenge!

As I wrote in an earlier post, by Mom passed away while I was still in grade school. I was 12 and my brother was 15 when it occurred. My brother and I became fairly self-sufficient at that point, and were able to take care of ourselves from the time we came home from school until my dad came home from work. It was only a two or three hour period, so homework, dinner prep and some “outside” time usually filled up those hours. As long as my older brother was home, I wasn’t too mischievous. It was only when he wasn’t home that I became a bit more adventurous. For instance:

  • I saw no problem in sticking hot dogs on a fork and cooking them over the burner flame on the stove, or
  • I thought it kind of fun to hang an old GI Joe from a sting in the basement and whack him with a baseball bat!
  • Then there was the time that I had no desire to go to school one day when I was a Junior and used the newly fallen snow as an excuse to be off. I attended Serra Catholic High School in McKeesport and had to take the public bus to school. I decided to take the bus to the McKeesport transfer point and to go shopping after that point rather than take the final leg of the trip to school. Knowing that I had to have my dad call into the school to let them know I would be absent, I called him at work and told him I had missed the transfer bus, tried to walk to school from McKeesport and fell into a snow drift and just dug myself out. (I thought this was one of my more creative stories!)

Now, I‘m sure that you’re wondering why I haven’t turned into some serial psychopath at this point. I chalk all of my adventures up to the fact that cable TV had not yet been invented! I will leave you with one last “adventure” which involved by Nemesis neighbor, Rudy Gregory:

As a teen, I was always super anxious to get my driver’s license. Of course, I began yearning for it when I was 13 years old, knowing full well that it would be a 3 year wait before I was old enough. By the time I was 15 years old, my obsession with driving got the better of me one morning. My father was away for a day of hunting with my uncles and my brother was off to some friend’s house. My dad had left the car parked in the garage for my brother to use in the event we needed to go somewhere. It was a nice clear day, and to me, the perfect day to go for a short spin in the cemetery. Mind you, I had never been behind the wheel before except for the time I crashed the Jeep into my dad’s business.

As big as you please, I grabbed the car keys and marched out to the garage to indulge my driving fantasy. I must say, I was very adept at backing the car down the narrow driveway between our house and the neighbor’s. I carefully pulled out onto Thomas Street and proceeded to drive up the St. Joe’s Cemetery hill completely confident. All went well until I had to maneuver on the very narrow roads in the cemetery itself. As I rounded one turn, I “clipped” a headstone. I panicked, but finished the turn and stopped to check for damage. Fortunately, the headstone was one of the very old ones and wasn’t damaged in any way. Unfortunately, the front passenger side fender of my dad’s car wasn’t as lucky. It was visibly “crunched.” I didn’t know how I was ever going to explain this to my dad, so I decided that I never would have to, after all, how could it have been me? I didn’t have a driver’s license! I was convinced that I would be forever haunted by the ghost of the poor soul whose tombstone I had hit, but that was minor when compared to dealing with my dad’s wrath!

Very carefully, I drove back home and although very shaken, I managed to return the car to the garage, parking it as if had never been moved. By this time, I had the entire explanation scenario worked out in my mind. Dad parked on the right hand side of the garage, so the damaged fender wasn’t visible when you entered the garage. By the time he discovered it, I might be able to raise the explanation that it happened in his business parking lot while he was at work!! Good thinking! Right?? Unfortunately, my plan never worked. Yes, he did drive off to work the next morning without noticing it, and yes, he did ask me if I knew anything about the damaged fender when he came home that evening. This was my cue to start my explanation, BUT, I was cut short when Dad informed me that my arch-Nemesis, Rudy Gregory, had seen me taking my little joy ride the day before!  BUSTED!!! Believe me, I paid the consequences.

OK, there, I’ve fessed up to all my mis-adventures. I’ve wiped the slate clean. Rudy Gregory, I no longer consider you my Nemesis, but rather view you as my conscience. I am ready to face my little grandson with my head held high and with the ability to confidently say… “Thank God you have cable!!!”

Posted in Life in General, Parents, Playing and Games | 3 Comments

Voices from Duquesne – Part 1

Posted on February 22, 2011 by Jim

You wouldn’t believe the number of responses that I received from former Duquesne residents and non-residents alike when I asked for your comments. Thank you so much. Its amazing to see how far our little hunky community of Duquesne, Pa has branched out across the nation! We are still fortunate to have so many who are still holding down the fort in the Duquesne area as well!

I thought you would enjoy hearing some of the responses from readers and former and current residents. Maybe you’ll recognize an old friend’s name. I will continue to periodically post these responses for your enjoyment and “re-connections.” If you haven’t complete a Roll Call response yet, I have reposted the link to fill it out at the end of this post. Have fun re-connecting!

Joanne Wazny

  • Maiden Name – Graham
  • Years in Duquesne – 1943-1961
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Audubon, NJ
  • My mother was born in Duquesne. In fact we were both born in the same house at 15 Seward Street (which sadly is now boarded up and awaiting demolition) and attended St. Joseph School. She lived there until April 2009 when she came to live with me. I have been making notes of her memories for the genealogy I am doing on our family.  Your blog is great because it gets her thinking and remembering more stories and people. Since I left after graduation from Duquesne High, I also enjoy the trips down memory lane!

Colleen Travis

  • Maiden Name – Byrne
  • Years_in_Duquesne – Lived in West Mifflin but went to Holy Name
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Mt. Washington, Pittsburgh
  • This blog is great!  A friend of mine passed it on to me.  I am so glad she did.  I have enjoyed reading every response.

Donna Connolly

  • Maiden Name – Ragan
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1955-1981
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Mentor, Ohio
  • I’m amazed at all the similarities in our childhood. I can relate to so much because I lived at “the top of Duquesne” and know well the landmarks you have talked about. So I know more about those places than the ones at the “bottom” of Duquesne. This has been so much fun; it certainly stirs up a lot of memories and feelings. I would say just keep doing what you’re doing, it’s great! I LOVE the pictures. Can others contribute with them? I went to Holy Trinity and would love to see pics like the ones from Holy Name. Oh, by the way, we loved lekvar pierogies and to this day I make them (potato also of course) from scratch at least twice a year!

 Note from Jim (Blog Author) – Donna, I would welcome ANY pictures anyone has to offer that would rekindle memories for my fellow Duquesner’s (is there such a word?) Please, if anyone would like to contribute a photo, the best way would be to have the photo scanned and then email to me at – jim@shamrockrealtygroup.com

Joe Derose

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1939 thru 1967
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Corry,Pa
  • Old times. How about the car drag races on Duquesne Blvd.  The Duke Resturant hang out & food.

Alan Hartman

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1954 to 1964 and more
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Grand Rapids, Michigan
  • Hi Jim.  I lived originally at 818 Oak Street off of Center till 1964 when our family moved to West Mifflin.  Both of my brothers attended Holy Name School as did I till the second grade when we moved.  I then attended St. Agnes in West Mifflin.
  • I enjoyed reading about Elsie’s (Avenue News) and about U.S. Steel where my dad worked as a brick layer for near 40 years.  The article about the sights and sounds of the mill bring back HUGE memories of being lulled to sleep by the sounds of the Mill at night.
  • As a side light, my uncle Albert Pundzak and his brother Michael opened and owned Duquesne Cut-Rate on South Second Street he closed the store about 1969 I believe and retired.  I remember Mikes Market across from his store, the furniture store next to it and the club and gospel temple in the same area.  I came home for my uncle’s funeral and was shocked to see the state of S. Second.  Many of the houses are gone and my Uncle’s old store was boarded up.  I believe it has now been torn down.
  • An interesting article would be about the now gone Duquesne Carnegie Library.  Fond are the memories of browsing the stacks, swimming in the pool and watching the Passion Plays put on by the Steelworkers every year.
  • I would be more than happy to write an article about my Uncle’s store and the Library if you like.  It is sad to see Duquesne fall into the state it is in, but the memories of it will never fade and it is important that its memory live on in some fashion.

Note from Jim (Blog Author) – Alan, I would love for you to contribute a post about your uncle’s store. I would welcome any stories that people would like to pass along. Just email them to me at jim@shamrockrealtygroup.com. Also, I wrote a post about the Carnegie Library that I am sure you’d enjoy. It was called One of Duquesne’s Icons – A Cultural Playground. If you click the Monthly Archives arrow in the right hand column of my blog page, you’ll get a drop down menu that you use by clicking the month to review past posts I have written! The post about the library was written in January.

 Gary Trbovich

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1952 – 1975
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Jacksonville, Fl
  • comments = You hit all the good memories of Duquesne.  Of course we tend to forget the bad stuff but its fun to remember.  Keep up the good work.  I occasionally share your blog on facebook!

 Donna Jackson

  • Maiden Name = Gavlik
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1948 to 1973
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Cranberry Township
  • comments = It brings back a lot of memories. I forgot the names of a few places but have been reminded of them through this blog. Very interesting.

 Linda Perhacs

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1947 – 1972
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = West Mifflin, PA
  • comments = I’ve enjoyed the “brain strain” to remember the details…names of people and places.  The 1st time I read the articles, I wiped away a few tears and smiled constantly.

 Anne Lofstrom

  • name = Harrington
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1932-1953
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = North Huntingdon, Pa
  • comments = I enjoy the memories that your stories and pictures bring back.  I also was a Holy Name graduate (?) in 1946. Since I still go to Duquesne, as my brother still lives in the family home on Lincoln Ave., some of yor pictures so vividly bring back what used to be there or how is used to look.  Keep up your blog.  I look forward to it.

 

Dick Bowen

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1936-1943        1947-1952
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = White Oak,PA
  • comments = You have brought back many memories of things that I had forgotten.I have enjoyed reading all of the events that you have written about.Keep up the good work. I was born in Duquesne and we lived at various places : Wool St , Texas Av.,6th St.,We then moved to a place right by Kennywood for a year. My dad bought a house in Riverview plan in Dravosburg, and I started school there. When I was in the 5th grade we moved back to Duquesne, 1014 Sherman Av., were we lived until the end of my soph. year. My dad then bought a house in White Oak, but I continued to go to school in Duquesne instead of McKeesport. I graduated from DHS in 1954.

 Rebecca Woolsey

  • Maiden name = Wahly
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1947-1969, 1997-2000, 2002-present Where_do_you_live_now? = Duquesne PA!
  • comments = It’s fun to remember all the old things that made the city great and some not so much – like Wednesday mornings when the smell of the rotten-egg sulphur made it almost impossible to concentrate in Mr. Bullion’s or Mr. Ondrey’s classes!

 Duane Kelley

  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1954(birth) to 1972
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Lakewood, Ohio
  • comments = Hi Jim, Thanks for this fantastic ride down memory lane!! You may or may not know my brother Skip(Conrad) who graduated from DHS in 1969. I graduated 3 years later in 1972 and joined the Air Force that summer.  I have lived many places over the years but will always consider Duquesne and the Pittsburgh area my real home!!  My Dad was your typical happy-go-lucky Irishman and worked in the Duquesne #5 Mill.  Mom was Slovak (maiden name — Bilohlavek) and like your Mom, she died of cancer at a young age (43 in 1971) –God rest all their souls! She was very much the fabric of our family existence bringing all the traditional values and yummy foods that have been mentioned or implied here.  Your blog has reinforced in my mind what made Duquesne such a wonderful place to grow-up, and at the same time how complex a world we live in nowadays. We led simple lives learning the lifelong importance of hard work, traditional family values, and God and Country.  I enjoy the randomness of your blogs and look forward to future readings and commentary.

 Jane Pocsatko

  • Maiden name = Fulmer
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1946 to 1967
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Trinity, Florida {Tampa Bay}
  • comments = This is so much fun to be reminded of things  I’ve forgotten.  I love having grown up in Duquesne at the time I did.  Never locked the door, keys better be in the car when Dad was going to work the third turn at Irvin Works. Watching the boys play basketball up at the watertank. My sister Susan met her husband there when she was in 7th grade and they are still married. Great neighborhoods. All the neighbor women baked for your wedding. Good people. Happy times.

 Jim Hartman

    • Years_in_Duquesne = 1945 – 1960 Mother’s side arrived in 1908 (Slovak)
    •  Where_do_you_live_now? = West Mifflin (near the airport)
    • comments = Enjoy the blog and brings back many early memories of my growing up in Duquesne.  Presently I am the founder and president of the Mifflin Township Historical Society www.mifflintownship.org We currently have all the Duquesne, Clairton, Cloverleaf Bulletins and working on finishing the Homestead newspapers at our reference room in the West Mifflin Borough building.  If you should need any information, pictures, etc. please feel free to contact me at jhartman15122@gmail.com or 412-600-0229.

Note from Jim (Blog Author)- Jim I certainly plan to take you up on your offer, and I hope that you and I could meet on my next trip home! I have placed a link to your site on my Blog Page under “Blog Roll.”

 Sandi Kaselonis

  • Maiden name = Tovlin
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 24
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Wabash, IN
  • comments = These posts have truly taken me down memory lane.  I enjoyed all of them. Sam Rickard who knew my parents sent me the link, and yes, I am a hunky girl.  I was making bread for Easter one year when my husband told his sister that I am the last of the good, hunky women.  We all had a big laugh over that. I graduated from DHS in ‘65 and moved out of Duquesne when I got married in 1971. 

Paul and Dianne Kasten

  • Maiden name = Dianne Buczynski
  • Years_in_Duquesne = 1948-1971
  • Where_do_you_live_now? = Waldorf, Maryland
  • comments = We love everything about this blog.  It has brought back so many memories.  I’ve been telling my father-in-law, Paul Rush, who lived in Duquesne most of his life, all about it.  He has really enjoyed hearing (no computer)and adds lots of his own memories.  He remembers many names. Paul and I both went to Holy Name School and we met years later at Holy Name Church.  My family belonged to the Polish Church, St. Hedwig. My brother, Henry Buczynski, lives in McKeesport and enjoys the blog as well.

 

Note from Jim (Blog Author) – Paul, you rocked as the organist at Holy Name. (Ooops, can I say that about the Church?)

I would like to continue taking a roll call of people and places. If you click on the blue words below, you’ll be connected with a form that you can fill out to supply your information. The form asks your name; your maiden name if you weren’t married when you lived in Duquesne (if applicable); the years when did you live in Duquesne (if applicable); where you live now (just city and state); and a space for suggestions or anything else you’d like to say. I hope you’ll share your information. Just click the “CONNECT TO THE ROLL CALL FORM ” words in blue below when you’re ready!

   CONNECT TO THE ROLL CALL FORM

Posted in Feedback From Our Friends | 6 Comments

The Random Thoughts of A Wandering Hunky Mind

Posted on February 18, 2011 by Jim

Occasionally, I think I will post some random thoughts and questions to get everyone thinking about the ol’ home town. Some of these are self serving, since I have yet to get answers to a few of my questions posed in an earlier post; some are just random remembrances that pop into my head; and some are names, faces or places I’m drawing a blank on.

Before I move on to some of my questions or thoughts, I thought it might be fun to find out just who is reading these posts. For lack of a more original way of phrasing it, I would like to take a roll call of people and places. If you click on the blue words below, you’ll be connected with a form that you can fill out to supply your information. The form asks your name; your maiden name if you weren’t married when you lived in Duquesne (if applicable); the years when did you live in Duquesne (if applicable); where you live now (just city and state); and a space for suggestions or anything else you’d like to say. I hope you’ll share your information. Just click the “CONNECT TO ROLL CALL FORM ” words in blue below when you’re ready!

         CONNECT TO ROLL CALL FORM

Now, on to those crazy random thoughts and images….

For those of you who attended Holy Name School in the 50’s and 60’s, I recently came across a photo that you might enjoy. The picture was taken in 1963 and shows one of the Holy Name cooks, Mrs. McConnell, and Fr. Hanlen. I also think that the other woman in the picture is Mrs. Napoli, but I could be wrong. I also remembered a little activity when I saw this picture. If you notice, there is a stack of folding chairs to the left of the stairs. I recall have to either fold and stack or unstak and fold those chairs for one thing or another. I don’t remember if we were assigned the task or if we volunteered. More than likely, the good sisters were imposing some form of mild punishment or torture for something I did wrong. God hath no fury like a sister’s scorn!

OK, I still need someone who knows who POP ARMS was. Apparently, he used to live over Adler’s and Avenue News on the corner of S. 2nd and Grant. I have no idea what his real first name was, but apparently everyone called him “Pop.” The entrance to his apartment was on S. 1st just past the alley behind Avenue News. I was never up to the apartment, but it was apparently very nice. So again, does anyone know of a man who was called POP ARMS!?!?!

Just so you know, I am patiently waiting until Spring officially arrives to begin reminiscing about one of my favorite Duquesne memories, Kennywood Park! Yes, I know it is “officially” in West Mifflin, but you know as well as I that it was always considered “ours!” More to come on that juicy topic! Here’s a topic that I need you to start thinking about in advance regarding Kennywood, Green Gables Bar and/or Inn that was owned by the Longcaric’s (spelling). It was located right at the end of that rickey ol’ brindge between Duquesne and West Mifflin. It was on the West Mifflin side, across from Kennywood. It is rumored that they sold the land to McDonalds for over 1 million!! I have lots of questions, but will patiently wait to address them.

Speaking of Duquesne Place, I recall finding a never ending supply of fossils and arrow heads with my friend Gene Sabolcik when we were mere lads. There was a great place that we searched along what I believe is Clonmel Ave., close to Hoffman Blvd. Of course, my memory is rather “iffy” on this and I hope Gene reads this and corrects me. There used to be a lot of shale rock in the area and we spent hours and hours digging and searching. To this day, whenever I took my daughters on the train in Kennywood that showcased the Native Americans that inhabited the immediate area, I thought about finding those arrowheads.

I wonder if they still have a Little League in Duquesne. I was never good enough to play, but my brother Steve, was a fantastic pitcher. I remember watching the games in the field between Duquesne High School and City Hall. I assume that that area was at one time a school stadium before it was relocated to Duquesne Place, but I’m not sure. I always wondered what that gate that lead into the side of the hill in front of the high school was used for. I’d love to know more about that area. Any idea? Also, I remember going to Polish Hill to watch the ballgames too. I guess I have spring fever right now.

Be sure to take some time and join our roll call. I’d love to hear from you and know how far Duquesne Hunky roots have spread. Keep reading my friends!

Posted in Church and School - Holy Name, Duquesne Public Schools, Kennywood | 12 Comments

This Little Hunky Went To Market

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Jim

This Little Hunky Went To Market

I am frequently being sent assorted pictures on email. Most of these come from my kids, who want to share a picture of some cute little animal or something. Even though they both are in their 20’s, they will forever be little girls at heart. Allow me to share the latest………..

This little guy has to be as cute as it gets. Seriously, you have to agree. The part that you don’t know is that the original I was sent had some wording on it. It read, and I quote…..

“Nobuddee gunna pikkle deez feetz!”

 

Although I enjoy good ol’ Hunky cuisine, as a child growing up in a Slovak and Croatian environment, I have to admit that I was a picky eater. The truth is out. I used to give my mom a difficult time whenever I was asked to eat anything that was the least bit foreign to my palette. I had no problems with stuffed cabbage, kielbasa, perogies or any “normal” dishes. However, when it came to what I would term “bizarre” food, that’s where I drew the line. I mean, come on already! I was the kid who would hide uneaten tomato soup in his empty milk carton so Sister Emily wouldn’t catch me throwing it away. She knew I loved milk, so she never bothered to check my carton during lunch at the Holy Name cafeteria. At home, Mom’s way of dealing with my pickiness was to give me smaller portions of the things I’d turn my nose up at.  Perhaps she did it in the hopes that I would “acquire” a taste for it OR perhaps she did it so I didn’t get my way. What ever the reason, I ended up trying it, gagging and then being sent up to my room. Fortunately, this didn’t happen often.

But seriously, let’s discuss the “dark side” of hunky cuisine. Let’s start with my little friend with the boots. Pig’s Feet!?! Seriously? I used to dread when my mom or dad would make it. The basement would be lined with shallow bowls of the stuff and slowly the clear liquid would begin to gel. Out of it would occasionally popped a pig’s toe or, God forbid, a stray stiff hair that somehow didn’t get plucked off of the foot! You couldn’t expect a kid to eat this stuff, could you? They used to sprinkle paprika on top of the concoction, which to me, only made it look more disgusting. Call me picky, but that stuff never passed my lips.

Then there was the oh so appetizing “blood pudding sausage.!” My dad LOVED this treat. Fortunately he knew when some things were futile, and so, he never asked my brother or I to try it. I looked it up on Wikipedia to gain a better understand of the components of the dish. I had this huge pang of guilt thinking I may have passed up one of hunky life’s simple pleasures by not eating it or even trying it. According to Wikipedia: “Black pudding or blood pudding is a type of sausage made by cooking blood or dried blood with a filler until it is thick enough to congeal when cooled. The dish exists in various cultures from Asia to America. Pig, cattle, sheep, duck and goat blood can also be used depending on different countries. In Europe, typical fillers include meat, fat, suet, bread, sweet potato, onion, chestnuts, barley, and oatmeal.” Needless to say, after considering a meal of cooked and congealed goat blood, chestnuts and suet,  I decided my father was wise beyond his years in not attempting to make me eat that delight!

So let’s move on and discuss one of my favorite hunky foods…..PEROGIES. I loved them back then, and I love them now. Of course, as I was growing up, there were no such things as frozen perogies. They were always homemade. My mom never actually tried to make perogies from scratch, but either my aunts or a local church were always a great source for these treats. HOWEVER, for some reason, my dad and every one of his brothers and sisters insisted on serving perogies with what looked to be the most disgusting looking filling ever…… LAKVAR! Yuck. Lekvár is a very thick, sometimes coarse jam of pure ripened fruit. It doesn’t sound that bad, but let’s have a reality check here, does it look like a pile of prunes or a pile of  _____ ???? You decide.

One of the staples in the hunky diet is soup. My mom made the most wonderful chicken soup, beef soup, bean soup and vegetable soup. Her soups were always very simple. I was familiar with every ingredient. The vegetables that she used were understandable to my young hunky mind. After she passed away, by dad stepped up to the plate and pulled out his innate culinary prowess. He was an exceptionally good cook. He never followed recipes and usually made up his own. He was amazing.

Dad’s soups were always a bit more complex and innovative than Mom’s. Even I, the pickiest hunky ever born, loved them… with a few exceptions. My issue was when my dad decided he needed to get in touch with his hunky “roots.”  I’m not referring to his Slovakian heritage a’ la Alex Haley however. I’m talking about real ROOTS! Those things that grow underground. I could never be convinced to eat them. Carrots… I could do, potatoes…… no problem, onions….. not an issue. However, my dad would occasionally cross over to that dark side again and plop some grotesque underground anomalies into that cauldron of a soup pot. Parsnips, rutabaga and the ever mysterious kohlrabi would all be used at one time or another. I’m sorry, but I swear that you could boil those roots for hours and hours and still break a tooth on them. Seriously, were they REALLY that necessary?? I assure you that Rachael Ray would never use any of those ingredients in her Meals in 30 Minutes recipes!

Of course, you must know that I critique all of the above with the most loving of feelings for the culture they came from. I will always accept and embrace who I am and what Duquesne was all about. I am forever proud of my hunky heritage, ………it’s only the roots that are so hard to swallow!!

Later my friends!

Posted in Food and Restaurants, My Hunky Family, Parents | 15 Comments

The House That Built ME!

Posted on February 15, 2011 by Jim

I sat last night and watched the recording industry’s Grammy Awards. I have always been a sucker for award shows and had turned into a couch potato way back when I was still living in Duquesne. Things are a bit different these days whenever I watch any of the award shows. When I was a mere lad, I knew every song and artist that was nominated for a Grammy, every TV Show nominated for an Emmy and virtually every movie and movie star that was up for an Oscar. Things were simpler back when I was young; there were only three networks vs. the 100’s available today; singers had pronounceable names like Johnny Mathis as opposed to Ke$ha; and movies were being released at a normal rate as opposed to the hundreds that are being churned out of Hollywood and countless other areas of the country.

Back to last night’s Grammys….

Marinda Lambert performed a song that she had recorded in 2010 and during the ceremony won the Grammy for best female country vocal performance for that same song, “The House That Built Me.”  The words are poignant and really aim for your heart. They made me think about 206 Thomas Street and the home that built this Duquesne Hunky.

The purpose of this post today is to acknowledge how much my childhood home means to me, and at the same time, convey how heart breaking it is to see it as it stands today. I am certain that my frustration is, or would be, shared by virtually every former resident of Duquesne if they were to come face to face with their childhood home.

As I wrote in one of my earlier posts, I grew up on Thomas Street, directly across from what used to be Kopriver’s Greenhouse and Nursery and later, Kroger’s Supermarket. Thomas Street was also the access road into St. Joseph’s Cemetery which was at the end of my street.

My parents purchased the home in 1951 from and Mr. and Mrs. Stoner. When it was purchased, it was known as 8 Thomas Street, but during a remapping effort by the Post Office, the address evolved into 206 Thomas Street. To this day, I never could figure the need for the change. They moved into what was to become the only home I would ever know as a child on October 31st, 1951. The move must have been a bit strenuous for my mother for I was born the very next day, November 1, 1951, in McKeesport Hospital. I never found out if my mom spent the first night they owned their new home in her own bed or in a hospital bed. I had discovered some photos of the home at the time they purchased it and it was obvious that by the time I began remembering its details, my dad had made some upgrades.

My house had an empty lot next to it that was part of the purchase. It remains that way to this day. It was great for the neighborhood kids, since it provided a great place to play games, run, roll down the hill, catch lightening bugs, play tag, play statue and all of those games that kids played before video games and skateboards. Although the yard was tame by comparison to the cemetery hill, it also made the perfect training ground for fledging sled riders. I remember my dad keeping an eye on me from the sidewalk in front of the house when I was first learning how to handle my Flexible Flyer!

My dad planted a sycamore tree in the backyard when we first moved into the house. I think I even have pictures of me as a baby sitting in front of that tree at about 18 months of age. Throughout the years, the trunk of that tree kept on getting larger and larger and soon, the tree towered over our house and yard by the time I was in my teens. The branches of the tree stretched across the vacant lot to our neighbors to the left and well into the neighbor’s yard on the right. I think it was 1981 when my dad finally decided the tree had to be removed. The root system had begun to cause problems with our home’s foundation and it had become disproportionately large for the area as well. It took several days, many men and a huge crane and cherry picker to wrestle the behemoth sycamore to the ground. I wasn’t there for its demise. I don’t think I could have watched.

 In 1965, my mother died in that house. She was only 42. She suffered a massive heart attack as she and my dad were lying in bed one evening. She had rheumatic fever as a adolescent which caused a weakened heart. In the 1930s and 1940s rheumatic fever was a serious medical problem for adolescents. Hospitals often had waiting lists for children who needed treatment.

On the night that my mom died, I lay in my bedroom. I had just begun using a very small bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall as my room. I was 12 and ready to have my own space, so Mom and Dad set up the bedroom for me. That night in August, I remember hearing my mom call my dad’s name in the middle of the night. She called it only once. It woke me up. I remember listening as my dad began to call out to her, frantically trying to wake her. I don’t know if my brother heard the events that night. We have never talked about it. For some time, I lay in my bed that evening counting every breath that I took. My mind was swirling, perhaps with denial. I would swear that I heard each beat of my heart as I laid there in denial, trying to convince myself that it was a dream. I recall my dad running down the steps and soon after, the horrible series of events began to unfold.

My Aunt Mary was the first on the scene. She lived one street down from us on Martin Street. Her husband, my Uncle Lou, was working night turn that evening, and at work when all of this occurred. Shortly after Aunt Mary came, Dr Fletcher arrived and immediately ran up the steps to my parent’s bedroom. I will never forget the look on his face as he descended the steps after pronouncing my mother dead. Aunt Mary took my brother and I to the back porch. I recall her holding us very close as we all listened for the sound of other family members arriving. We all stared out toward the corner of Mellon Street and Texas Ave. in the hopes that somehow their arrival would change everything. It didn’t. Millie, my mom, was gone.

I remember so many happy events that we celebrated in that house. I remember Christmases, First Communions, never ending euchre games with my uncles, the multitude of “pets” that I’d drag into the house much to my mom’s chagrin and countless other precious moments in my life. I recall having to try on my brother’s hand-me-down clothes each August in preparation for returning to school. They smelled like mothballs.

I remember peering out on snowy nights wondering if there would be too much snow to go to school. Usually, the storm windows had frosted up and I had to use my breath to melt a spot to look out of.

In an earlier post, I wrote about how growing up in Duquesne was proof that it took a village to raise a child. All of our neighbors on Thomas Street became a part of my life as I was growing up. Mrs. Mentzler, Anna and Frank Yasko, Mrs. Davies, Joanie and Ed Shedlock, Adam and Eve Oravick, Mike and Mary Kovach, Mr. and Mrs. Rudy Gregory, Mr. and Mrs. Ray Hanks, and Mr. and Mrs. Ray Snyder all helped to set the moral compass I now live by. Each family had their own trials, their own set of problems, but collectively, this group of neighbors were banned together in friendship, love and harmony. All were friends and all collectively shared in each other’s joys as well as well as sorrows.

Both Steve, my father, who died in 1999, and Millie, my mom were buried in St. Joesph’s Cemetery. Both of their graves lie in plain sight of the home that built me. Whenever I visit my parents gravesite, I turn toward Thomas Street and wonder what they would be thinking if they saw what had become of their home. I always wish that I somehow had the means to save it, to take it back and once again feel the comfort it provided for so many years. Perhaps this is the same feeling that would be felt by each of you as you looked at the home in Duquesne that held your special memories. I wish they could be saved.

The House That Built Me

By Allen Shamblin and Tom Douglas

I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Posted in Life in General, Parents | 8 Comments

Duquesne’s Nightlight and Lullaby

Posted on February 10, 2011 by Jim

I came across an archive of photographs online a few days ago that I had to share with you.The Library of Congress in Washington D.C. maintains an archive of photographs that contain over 14 million items. Part of those photographs is a collection titled Historic American Buildings Survey/Historic American Engineering Record. This collection contains documentation for more than 38,000 sites and structures. Within the Historic American Buildings Survey/Historic American Engineering Record there is a set of 76 photographs that are collectively titled U.S. Steel Duquesne Works, Blast Furnace Plant, Along Monongahela River, Duquesne, Allegheny, PA.

In 1989, photographers Jet Lowe and Martin Stupich created this overview history and inventory of individual structures of U. S. Steel’s Duquesne site. The photos feature interior and exteriors of the many various plants within the Duquesne Works. Since the time these photographs were taken, many of the structures have been demolished, as the former site of U. S. Steel’s Duquesne Works continues to transform into a pseudo industrial park.

The mill always seemed to be such an ominous and mysterious place. I was never privy to what went on beyond the front gate at the mill since I never worked there, however I was always curious. My uncles would occasionally talk “shop talk” when they got together. They would describe molten steel in huge ladles, red hot ingots weighing thousands of pounds, and many more fascinating images. By comparison, the collection’s photos capture images of a rather desolate and eerily silent group of massive buildings. What the photos show, is a mere shell of what was.

My childhood home on Thomas Street was just a little over a mile from the mill. Since my father’s business was on South 1st Street and given that I attended Holy Name Grade School, I became very familiar with the sites, sounds and smells of the plant. Whenever I visit my family in the Duquesne area, I think back to the days when the mill was an active and thriving workplace. I recall how at 7 a.m., 3 p.m. and 11 p.m., the U.S.S. gate at the bottom of Grant instantaneously turned into a scene reminiscent of the streets of New York, as the onslaught of departing workers poured out.

Many of the men took to the sidewalks and hiked home. Others returned to their cars, although I must confess that I don’t know where they parked. Still yet, family members would often meet their husband, father or brother at the end of their day. They’d be parked all along Grant Ave. and wave frantically to get their loved one’s attention. Many guys would pour into Elsie’s Avenue News for the newspaper, a pack of cigarettes or whatever they may have needed. The seats at the numerous “beer gardens” would quickly fill up as the guys would chug down their beers to try to either cool off or wash down the dust from the mills that had coated their throats. As quickly as the throng of men formed as shifts turned, it dissipated as swiftly, and by 10 minutes after quitting time, the streets had returned to normal.

I recall how at night, there seemed to be a perpetual sunset hovering over the mills as the sky took on a shade of orange. I assume that the glow was caused by the molten steel and ingots as they passed from plant to plant and finally to railcars or barges. I remember seeing glaring spotlights that were mounted to the various buildings, cranes and furnaces that added even more dramatic light to the scene. As a child, they always reminded me of bright stars in an orange sky. From my Thomas Street bedroom, I could see that orange glow each evening as I looked toward St. Joseph’s cemetery. The scene would have made a great mood shot for some horror film, but to me, it was very comforting.

Equally comforting were the sounds that I would hear at night. Perhaps because of the silence each evening brought to my neighborhood, the sounds of industry that emanated from the mills helped to lull me to sleep. I recall muffled roars, pipes or bars clanking and trains whistling in the night from the mill. I often thought about my uncles or my brother at work on nightshift and wondered if they were making the entire racket. Even in the dead of winter, after my dad had put in the storm windows, the sounds still managed to be heard. I guess some things are destined to never be forgotten. Perhaps the images and the sounds that I’ve recalled will stir up similar recollections for you. Perhaps the next time you watch the sun set you’ll marvel at how much it reminds you of your days in Duquesne.

Posted in Stores and Businesses, Summertime, The Steel Mills | 21 Comments

Duquesne Trival Pursuit

Posted on February 6, 2011 by Jim

I have been busy reading through all of the comments that have been posted by former and current residents of Duquesne since I began this blog back in November. There have been a lot of blanks that have been filled in for me about people and places throughout Duquesne. I was very excited to receive this information and I am eternally grateful.

Occasionally, I’d like to toss out some random thoughts and recollections for you to embellish with your own memories. Let’s dig deep into our memory bank and see if you can add to the following non-related thoughts and questions:

  • If I am not mistaken, wasn’t Adler-Green’s located nest to Avenue News on the corner of S. First and Grant?
  • Didn’t the Alder-Green site convert to a Johnson the Florist after Adler-Green relocated to the corner of 2nd Street and Grant?
  • Wasn’t Johnson the Florist originally located on the corner of S. First and Grant across the street from Alder-Green’s original location?
  • Weren’t Adler’s and Green’s separate stores at one time?
  • Where was Benovitz’s located? I remember the name and I think they sold appliances, but I am not sure.
  • Does anyone remember Dr. Sebastian, the female dentist, located near the First National Bank building on Duquesne Blvd? She eventually relocated her office to Duquesne Place. I believe it was on the 2nd floor of her home then. Does anyone remember her?
  • My dad used to talk about a friend of his who used to live above Adler-Green’s on the corner of S. First and Grant. My dad always called him Pop Arms. Does anyone know anything about him?
  • Every two weeks, we were marched down to Ideal Barber Shop on Grant Ave. Frank Gigliotti was the owner and occupied the first chair, closest to the front window. There was another barber there, I believe his name was Bob, who always cut my hair. Does anyone recall Bob or his last name?
  • I had a friend who lived on Priscilla and 3rd or 4th Sts. Here name was Denise Hudak. She would have graduated in 1969. Does anyone know anything about her or where she is now?
  • Avenue News was always called Elsie’s as long as I can remember. However, I don’t remember anyone named Elsie there. Am I wrong?
  • Do you remember Jerry Reed’s Insurance Office next to Holy Name Grade School? Wasn’t there a dry cleaners next to his office on the corner of 1st Street and the alley behind Avenue News?
  • Did you know that Port Authority’s 61C bus route is still active. The cost to go from Duquesne to Downtown Pittsburgh is now $2.75 (if I am reading their fare schedule correctly.) I remember snowy days waiting for the bus inside the little coffee shop on the corner of Grant and 2nd St. It was always so warm and smelled so good in there! I have no idea what the name was.  Any thoughts?

I certainly hope that this has stirred up some memories! I hope someone has some answers to my questions. I am most anxious to find out about the mystery man “Pop Arms” and my friend Denise Hudak. Don’t forget to comment!!

Posted in Duquesne Buildings, Miscellaneous, Stores and Businesses | 157 Comments

A Hunky SUPER BOWL Party!

Posted on February 4, 2011 by Jim

With the big game this weekend, I tried to think of how my dad and my uncles would have celebrated the event at a Super Bowl Party if they were alive today! With that thought in mind, aside from the washtub full of ice and beer, consider celebrating what we hope will be a decisive STEELER victory this Sunday. The recipes are simple and are just the type of food our dads would enjoy while watching!! Be sure to check out the video at the end of this post. God love HUNKYS!

Easy Cabbage Roll Casserole

  • 1 ½   lbs lean ground beef or ground turkey
  • 2 onions finely chopped
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1 tsp salt
  • ¼ t. freshly ground black pepper
  • 7 ½ oz can of tomato sauce
  • 1 cup water
  • 10 oz can condensed tomato soup undiluted
  • ½ cup long grain rice, uncooked
  • 4 cups shredded cabbage
  • 1/3 cup tomato juice or water
  • Sour cream

Cook ground meat onions, salt and pepper until browned. Drain. Return to heat adding tomato sauce, water and ½ can of the tomato soup; mix well. Stir in the rice until combined.

Place half of the meat mixture in a lightly greased slow cooker, then half of the cabbage. Top with the remaining meat mixture and remaining cabbage. Stir together the remaining tomato soup and tomato juice. Pour over the meat and cabbage. Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours or on high from 4 to 6 hours, until bubbling and heated through. Serve with sour cream.

 

Kielbasa Appetizers

Ingredients – try using the turkey kielbasa, no fat and great tasting

  • 18 fluid ounces beer
  • 1 (18 ounce) bottle barbecue sauce
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup Dijon mustard
  • 2 pounds kielbasa (Polish) sausage, cut into 1/2 inch pieces Directions

Combine the beer, barbecue sauce, brown sugar, and Dijon mustard in a large skillet over medium heat. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally; reduce heat to low and add the kielbasa. Simmer until kielbasa is browned and glazed, about 1 hour.

Ham Roll Up Recipe

As long as I can remember “occasions” where we would gather to eat, there was always ham roll ups. Always a favorite for the men, women, and children alike, this ham roll up recipe is a sure winner!

You need:

  • 1 lb of sliced ham (you can use inexpensive packaged ham, like we do, or get the deli to thin slice it for you.),
  • 1–8 oz package of cream cheese
  • finely chopped green onions to taste
  • 1 Tbsp of Garlic powder

Instructions

  1. Soften your cream cheese and add your green onions, garlic powder and Accent.
  2. Spread a thin layer of the cream cheese mixture on a piece of ham, then roll it, and cut into bite sized pieces. Usually one roll = 3 bite size pieces.

**Tip** If you’re using pre-packaged ham, dry each piece of ham between paper towels before spreading cream cheese mixture on them.

 

Horseradish Cheese Ball

2 – 8 ounce packages cream cheese, softened
1 tablespoon horseradish
1 teaspoon celery salt
1/2 teaspoon onion salt
1 cup dried beef  ( I just use all the beef that comes in the jar or bag)

It does say make day before:

In a small bowl, with mixer at medium speed, beat cream cheese until smooth. Beat in horseradish, celery salt and onion salt; mix in dried beef. With hands shape mixture into ball; wrap and refrigerate until firm.

 

Chipped Ham Barbeque

The most difficult part of this recipe is trying to make any Deli Counter or Butcher outside of the Pittsburgh area understand what you mean by chipped ham. Chipped ham can be described a processed ham luncheon meat, chopped ham that is sliced razor thin through “chipping” the meat loaf against a commercial meat slicer blade, setting the slicer to “0, ” the finest setting. You will need to instruct the person behind the counter to do this. YES, they WILL look at you as if you are crazy, but the fact that you have face painted yourself with Steelers black and gold designs, they really have a point!

Ingredients

  • 1 pound of chipped ham (aka chipped chopped ham)
  • ½ – 1 cup ketchup (any will do, HOWEVER, to be a true  Duquesne hunky,   Heinz is the definitive choice!)
  • 2 Tbsp jelly (any flavor will do) 
  • 3 Tbsp margarine or EVVO

 Sautee chipped ham in a skillet until slightly browned. Add jelly and stir until dissolved. Add ketchup until the ham is coated and saucy. Simple, quick and great!

 

BE SURE TO CLICK THE ARROW IN THE CENTER OF THE SCREEN AND LISTEN TO THE PITTSBURGH STEELERS POLKA!!!

Posted in Food and Restaurants, Miscellaneous, Movies, Music, Radio and TV, Sports | 6 Comments

Sweet Indulgences in Duquesne

Posted on February 3, 2011 by Jim

When I began this blog, I vowed that I would not turn it into just another nostalgia blog that talks about the “good ol’ days.” I wanted to be sure that whatever I wrote about, reflected something about my life in Duquesne and had specific ties to the city. I hope I haven’t disappointed so far, but in the future, if I veer off course, be sure to let me know!

With all of that said, I was reminded by Eileen Phillips about buying candy at Algeri’s on Pennsylvania Ave. My dad would occasionally need to get milk, bread of some other small order and would drive up to Algeri’s since it was relatively close to our home. Those trips would always include allowing me to make a selection from their wonderful penny candy counter. Where as most kids had a tough time in deciding which candies they wanted, I had honed my “favorites” list to a select few. I knew exactly where they were placed in the case, so filling up that little brown sack they used for candy was never a problem.

As far as I know, thoughts of hyper-activity from too much candy never seemed to cross my folks mind. “Goodies” were a staple in any self-respecting hunky’s diet! This should come as no surprise to anyone. After all, we’re the ones who create the world’s largest cookie display at weddings and then try to consume them all in one night!

I though about other places around Duquesne where I’d buy penny candy. When you think about it, there were quite a few as I recall. Just one block up from our Thomas Street home was Puski’s, at the corner of Texas Ave. and Mellon Street. We didn’t like to go to Puski’s unless absolutely necessary. The truth be told, he often charged 2¢ for some of the typically priced at a penny. To this day, I don’t know if the higher prices were to keeps too many kids away, or just because he wanted to make more money.

I think the place where I first remember being taken for candy was across from my Grandfather’s house on Hamilton Avenue. It was a small store with very little in it. The candy counter was a big glass case to the right and it was lined with jars of treats. He lived at 307 Hamilton, and the store was in that same block. In later years, my Aunt Mary said that it was a big “numbers joint.” To this day, I am still not quite clear about what that meant, but it did sound very Al Capone”ish!” What I DO recall is that the person behind the counter was very friendly and knew my mom and I and us by name. Of all of the items there, I used to love the pretzel rods that were in a jar on the top if the counter the most. He would always give me one as a bonus whenever my mom took me in.

I guess you could say that I had a strange set of taste buds. One of my favorite candies was a small grayish little candy called a “Ben Hur.” They were anise flavored and I was one of the few in our family that liked anise flavoring and these candies. This, of course, assured that my brother and cousins wouldn’t be asking for a piece of my candy. Turn about was fair play however. Whenever they went to the candy store, they would buy Mary Janes, a candy I despised, and never had to worry about me asking for a piece. To this day, I cannot stand the taste or smell of peanut butter. I know, its un-American.

When I think about it, there were a lot of stores that were indulging people’s sweet tooth as I was growing up. The Hilltop Dairy at the top of Kennedy Ave., the little shop on the corner of 4th and Kennedy across from the High School, the candy counter at G.C.Murphy’s on 1st Street, to name just a few. The set-ups in each of these stores was similar and the assortment of candy was practically identical. There were pretzel rods, Mary Janes, Smarties, candy necklaces, candy cigarettes, Bazooka bubble gum, dot candy, shoestring licorice, and  gumdrops to name just a few. There are a number of sites on the internet where you can buy some of the candy we used to enjoy back then. I have tried a few of these and although the taste was similar, something was just not the same. I think the little brown bag was missing as well as the excitement of standing in front of that case, with your nose pressed against the glass, just trying to decide how to spend that nickel that was burning a hole in your pocket. No matter what you decided on, it certainly ended up being a treat!

Posted in Food and Restaurants, Stores and Businesses | 18 Comments

Duquesne’s Greasy Spoon

Posted on February 1, 2011 by Jim

My father operated a service station on South First Street directly opposite of the Holy Name Rectory. It was named Volk’s Service. I was told that it was a car dealership aone time, as evidenced by a “showroom” that was to the right front of the building. However, when my dad operated, it was a repair shop for automobiles and occasionally, for painting cars as well.

My dad had purchase the shop from its previous owner in its entirety, lot, stock and barrel. Along with the multitude of tools and equipment, dad was also the proud owner of all of the dirt and grease that had accumulated throughout the garage’s many rooms. I hate to admit it, but it really was the stereotypical greasy, dirty, oily garage. Initially, Dad tried to clean up the place a bit and had succeeded, but that success was more in his own eyes than in the eyes of a casual observer.

Despite the rather unkempt conditions of the garage, his business flourished. The location certainly was a very positive factor. Men were able to drop off their car as they reported for the Daylight Shift at the mill which was only two blocks away and, were able to pick up the vehicle after their shift had ended at 3 p.m. Beyond the convenience of location, was my dad’s amazing talent for repairing cars of that era. His reputation was that of an ace mechanic who had the ability to diagnose the mechanical problems by just listening to the car while the engine was running. In virtually every instance, he would nail the problem immediately. In addition to his automotive expertise, my dad also had a reputation of being very honest in his diagnosis and suggested repairs. Unlike many less scrupulous mechanics at that time, Dad never overcharged, over bid or fabricated problems. Even the pastors of the area churches came to Dad for their repairs.

Among the items that Dad received with the purchase of the building and its equipment was a Bersted Company Electric Griddle. He told me that when he first discovered it in a drawer, he almost threw it away. However, he decided to keep it, clean it up, and see if it worked. As expert as he was at repairing cars, his tinkering skills were equally adept. The man could repair anything he set his mind to. During WWII, Dad served in the Army as the head mechanic at Chanute Air Force Base near Chicago. His responsibility was the repair of damaged aircraft as well as the instruction of other soldiers on repair techniques. After his enlistment ended, he was recruited by the Ford Motor Corp. to serve as one of their national instructors on auto repair, but turned down the opportunity in lieu of family commitments. Husbands/Father’s values were much different in those days. It was ALWAYS, family first.

The electric griddle was expertly repaired by my dad. He told me he had replaced the frayed cord and broken plug. The switch controlling the temperature was replaced with a simple off and on switch since a replacement part wasn’t available, at least not at Schink’s. He said that one of the heating elements was broken, so he fabricated one out of a coil from a discarded automobile part. OK, perhaps I exaggerated a bit when I said it was expertly repaired. Probably a better description of the repair job would be jerry-rigged.

In spite of the lack of replacement parts and the modifications made, this griddle lasted for years and years and ended up creating an impromptu diner whenever necessary. Since my brother Steve and I attended Holy Name Grade School, we would occasionally make our way up to the garage to have our lunch. My dad would manage to make these unbelievably delicious hot dogs on toasted buns on this tiny grill. (We would usually wend our way to the garage for lunch whenever we heard that powdered eggs were on the cafeteria menu that day. Mrs. Cusick and Mrs. McConnell were good, but NO ONE was that good to make them palatable!)

That little grill became the equivalent of the bar at Cheers. Guys would hang out at the garage just to kibitz (or “BS” as my dad would say) with my dad and the other guys who were hanging out. At some point, the men would mention they were hungry and would be leaving to go home to grab a bite to eat. Truth be known, the thought of going home was the farthest thing from their minds. What they were actually requesting, as if in some secret clandestine code, was for my dad to prepare something on “the grill!”

Dad maintained an old fridge in the empty showroom. In it he would keep some pop for my brother and I, most likely Mission Orange or Grape, as well as hot dogs, ground meat and steaks. My dad loved to cook for the guys. He would prepare these incredible lunches on this tiny makeshift grill almost every day. He bought his meat at the GBU since they always gave him a “deal.” Don’t ask me how he made those arrangements, but somehow he did. He would prepare these grilled steak sandwiches topped with grilled onions and peppers and serve them to whatever guy or guys happen to be visiting at lunchtime. Among his more frequent visitors were Fr. Shaughnessy from Holy Name and Dr. Fletcher, our family doctor from South 2nd Street, Ernie Woodward from Woody’s Drug Store, Jerry Reed and Pop Arms. Mayor Kopriver was also an occasional “diner.” Hey, who doesn’t like a free lunch!?!

Dad kept that griddle in tip-top condition until the garage was forced to close as a result of the “redevelopment” in Duquesne. I’m not sure what ever happened to “the wonder griddle.” I suppose it was discarded just like his business was. I think that a piece of my dad died when he closed. The guys who frequented his place, looked beyond those things one would find in a garage, the oil, the grease. They didn’t see my dad as some “grease monkey.” They saw him as a friend, a pal, a generous man who would have given them the shirt off of his back if they asked. There was nothing pretentious about the food he prepared for his friends. It was friendship food, food for the soul.

Stories such as this, is why I am writing this blog. Your father may have been among the company of men who frequented Volk’s Sales and Service. My children and their children will be able to know more about their grandfather or great grandfather as a result of these stories. After all, we are “their past.” The way of life that we led, and the strong moral compasses that were given to us by our hunky parents must be recognized and appreciated. I know I certainly do. Thanks Mom and Dad and thank you Duquesne.

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