PNC Statues

As George Harrison wrote, “It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter.” But late March means that our attention turns to warmer weather and baseball. Staying close to PNC meant that morning walks could be in and around the park and riverfront area. Although it is one of the newer major league venues (opened in 2001), the baseball history of Pittsburgh is woven into the surround area. The four statues that line the outside of the stadium represent the great legacy of the team.

Roberto Clemente

Honus Wagner

On the corner of General Robinson and Bill Mazeroski Way, stands the statue of Honus Wagner onetime member of the Louisville Colonels (1897-1899) and later, when the team moved, the Pittsburgh Pirates (1900-1917).  The “Flying Dutchman” had a career batting average of .327 and was selected as a member of the first class of the Baseball Hall of Fame. The statue was originally erected in Schenley Park, but moved to Three Rivers Stadium in 1972 when that stadium was opened. In turn, it was moved to its current location when PNC was opened.

On the opposite end of the park, down the left field line at the foot of the bridge that now bears his name, stands the statue of Roberto Clemente.  Clemente hit his 3,000, and final, hit on the last day of the season in 1972. During a relief mission to Nicaragua, in the aftermath of an earthquake, Clemente died in an airplane crash on 31 December 1972. Among his posthumous honors was election to the Hall of Fame. The former Sixth Street Bridge, built in 1927-28, was renamed the Roberto Clemente Bridge.

Rizzoli Books

A newspaper article in January noted that the famous Rizzoli Bookstore of New York might have to move again because the building it occupies is set for demolition. Originally the bookstore opened on Fifth Avenue in 1964. It moved around the corner to 57th Street when its nineteenth century building was demolished in favor of a new office tower. Almost three decades later the bookstore is faced with a similar problem.

Interior of Rizzoli Bookstore (March 2014)

After reading the article I went to Rizzoli’s website and read through the blog. A number of famous people have shopped at the store and it has hosted its share of parties. One of my favorite stories was the day David Bowie made some purchases and presented his credit card, which used his actual name: David Jones. The clerk looked at the card and asked: “Hey, weren’t you in The Monkees?”

I decided to pay my respects to the venerable place in March, realizing that I probably would not be in the city again before it closed. Scaffolding already surrounded the outside of the building and inside people were measuring bookshelves and stacking oversized manuscripts onto trolleys. It was a signal that no stay of execution was likely. The three stories of the building were stocked with interesting books, foreign magazines, and individual alcoves were dedicated to Italian, French and Spanish-language books. A number of interesting literary and travel posters dotted the walls. Perhaps the most striking feature of the store are the chandeliers that produce a soft light in a space that is darker than most modern retail outlets.

Can a chain bookstore offer me less expensive books? Yes. Can they offer a cup of (overpriced) coffee while considering my purchases? Sure. Can I come across titles, authors and ideas I have not considered in a chain store? Of course. Why, then, would I consider the loss of a bookstore like Rizzoli important?

I suppose that there are a number of answers to that question. Nostalgia is certainly important, but the “law of the good neighbor” is top most in my mind. Because independent bookstores have a wider range of interesting (not necessarily marketable) titles, it is far more likely that an interesting discovery could happen. The law of the good neighbor suggests that, typically, the information you seek is not in the book you are looking for, but instead in the book right next to it. I would argue that explorations in an independent bookstore are more organic than in a chain; however, I would not deny that discoveries happen in all bookstores. (I worry that our discoveries might be extremely limited if all of our book purchases were online.)

More importantly, however, is the unique space where the books live prior to finding a new home. There is something more ennobling in a store that is not flooded by fluorescent light. Intimate spaces like Rizzoli invite us to make real connections with books and ideas. As we search for discoveries, we are not limited to literary treasures. The odd corner or alcove is packed with precious gems that await our adventurous exploration. 

Anne Frank 2014

Previous posts to this blog noted how The Diary of Anne Frank was still controversial and the target of censorship. Many outlets are now reporting that 265 books, both the Diary and other Anne Frank related books, had been vandalized in 31 public libraries across Tokyo.  Despite, or perhaps because of, the moving testimonial and observations the book remains a target for xenophobes and the closed-minded.  

The Great Allegheny Passage (Feb 2014)

The Great Allegheny Passage Tail is a 149-mile walking path that begins in Cumberland, Maryland and winds its way up to Pittsburgh, ending at Point State Park where the confluence of the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers form the Ohio River in downtown Pittsburgh.

Railroad tower near MM144

On the weekend in which January turned to February I walked on a small portion of the trail from an abandoned railroad observation tower in Baldwin Borough (near mile marker 144) to the Birmingham Bridge just prior to mile marker 146. I used the old observation tower as a reference marker for the southern terminus of this trip. The tower was marked with graffiti and is derelict. A large electrical outlet box on the side had its door standing ajar and it seems that birds had worked around the ends of big cables to make nests. Nearby a pair of downy woodpeckers searched the snow-laden trees for food. After two weeks of extremely cold weather, the Monongahela River was filled with ice and sections of the path were covered with well packed snow. As I walked on some of the more secluded parts of this section, I watched towboats with barges navigate and push through the ice that clogged with the river.

Pittsburgh skyline from the Hot Metal Bridge

Birmingham Bridge

Walking north the path crosses 29th Street on Pittsburgh’s Southside, adjacent to the Hot Metal Bridge. The trail in the Pittsburgh area is interesting because it takes you through many of the remnants of the city as a steel town, a sort of modern archaeological excursion. There are several places and markers denoting where steel plants once stood. A pile of railroad ties slowly disintegrating seems to point out that the decline of the industry was rapid and somewhat unexpected. 

As I walked underneath the Birmingham Bridge on Groundhog Day, people were gathering for an event known as the “Drowned Hogs.” Given Punxsutawney Phil predicted six more weeks of this harsh winter, the event probably accurately captured many people’s mood.

Renewed Manifesto

I was sitting in my office inadvertently listening to my colleague have a conversation with two female undergraduate students. It is a common occurrence; these conversations tend not to be private or sensitive. I am usually adept at tuning out such a conversation, but as the conversation continued I began to become astonished. The two young women were complaining that their lives were boring. My colleague reminded them that is was odd for a woman in her forties to give women in their twenties advice on how to have a more exciting life.  

The very next day I was driving in town and listening to the 80s radio station on Sirius/XM. One of my favorite, but rarely played, songs from the decade, Joe Jackson’s “Steppin’ Out” came on. Jackson soon sang a favorite stanza: “We – are young but getting old before our time / We’ll leave the T.V. and the radio behind / Don’t you wonder what we’ll find / Steppin’ out tonight.” My mind immediately raced back to the overheard conversation of the previous day. Perhaps replace the word radio with internet, but essentially it was the same message. The young women were not adventuresome enough to go out and live life. It is almost as if they expected an interesting life to come, knock on their dorm room door, and invite them out.

Life is a series of explorations. We must seek our own adventures and destinations. At the beginning of each year I consider what I will do, where I will go, and what goals I will attempt. Not doing so would result in an atrophy. It is difficult to understand how people become bored for long periods of time. Exploration can be done in our own backyard. Just walking down a street. Carefully examining the world is exploration. Travelling is a state of mind.

We are too polite to tell those young women that humans are all on a quest to find meaning, self-fulfillment and excitement. Perhaps that is something we find out on our own; however, no one does it for us. 

Food and Restaurants 2013

Food is one of the most important aspects of culture. Some of the best travel stories, domestic or international, are food stories. Some travelers even see the kind of food consumed on a trip as a measure of authenticity. I have consumed some interesting and fun food on my journeys this year. Lately, I have been thinking about food, memories and nostalgia lately and my trips to some classic American diners have helped me to reminisce.

1930 White Castle building on East Cermak, Chicago

We live in a society where fast food is ubiquitous. The lure of cheap, quick food has multiple implications. The ease of fast food threatens to impose itself on communities. This year we saw one Australian community, located on the edge of a national park, trying to prevent the construction of a McDonald’s. At the same time, I find it fascinating to discover the remnants of old franchises. I smiled when I found a 1930 White Castle building in Chicago. It reminded me of the many adventures and late night meals I had at a White Castles in Louisville. Long before Harold and Kumar made their quest, I drove 45 minutes while in college to get a White Castle meal.

This summer I read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and it revived some childhood memories. It was not about “the tickler,” the utensil of physical punishment Pip’s older sister employed during her capricious rants. Although I do remember our next door neighbor making her nephew (or grandson) retrieve a “switch,” a green branch from a tree so that she could administer corporal punishment. Even as a child I thought it was cruel to make the victim choose the instrument of his/her punishment. Instead, I was struck by the name of the establishment where Pip and his family celebrated his bounding to apprenticeship: the Blue Boar. This was the same name of a popular small chain of cafeterias in Louisville. On Sunday afternoons my family would gather for a Sunday meal after church. I distinctly remember my grandfather ordering peaches with cottage cheese as we would walk through the displays of different foods. It was one of his favorite salads and he would order it often.

Another dining establishment from my early childhood was Sandy’s Restaurant on Dixie Highway. I do not remember a lot about the restaurant except that it was one of my favorites as a small child. I think one of the big attractions for me was that the waitresses were very friendly and made a big fuss of me. More importantly, however, was this was the place where I could get trees. My idea, formulated in my juvenile mind, was that the small trees used to decorate the plates could be taken home and planted. Of course, the small trees were, in fact, parsley sprigs – a quaint method of decorating plates. I would dutifully collect the trees from my parents’ and grandparents’ plates for eventual replanting. Rarely, if ever, did I follow through, but I did have the best of intentions in my mind. If I had been able to replant these small trees in our backyard, no doubt my parents would have had a virtual tiny forest of parsley trees. Sandy’s is no more; it appears to be a nail salon. It is difficult to define the link between these restaurants and classic, nostalgic restaurants of today. My culinary tastes are definitely become more international; however, I still find classic American cuisine, especially breakfast, compelling.

Shippensburg has three classic nostalgic places, the oldest of which is Goody’s Restaurant. Today, the interior resembles an old diner with an additions surrounding the core of the diner. In the back of the restaurant building are three small cabins, today storage buildings, which are holdovers of a bygone era. During the 1930s and 1940s the business also had cabins where travelers could spend overnight with many amenities of the day. The cabins are reminiscent of the auto park and cottages in the film It Happened One Night. An old advertisement in the restaurant for Geyer’s Cabin Camp reads: “Heated Cabins, hot showers, kitchen, laundry, complete line of groceries, gas & oil, garage.” Located along historic Route 11, the cabins were a popular stop along the highway that runs from the New York-Canadian border to New Orleans. Today the restaurant is only open for breakfast and lunch and has a candy display case that was probably much fuller in the past. The food is cheap, and the clientele is typically local. Breakfast, consisting of two eggs, hash browns, orange juice and coffee, costs $5.36. The chatter in the diner, especially on bustling Fridays, usually revolves around the weather. The day after Halloween, after a particularly hard storm, one waitress exclaimed, “The rain was wicked…thought my roof was going to fly off…at least it is better than snow!”

Eddie's Paramount Diner, Rome, New York

The most authentic diner in which I had a meal this year was Eddie’s Paramount Diner in Rome, New York. The diner has eight booths and about twenty stools at the counter in an establishment that resembles an actual railway car. I had breakfast, sitting on a stool at the counter, on a busy Friday morning in August. My breakfast consisted of eggs, home fries and whole wheat toast with coffee. During my breakfast, I sat across from the pie safe, which housed a number of homemade delights. Most of the cooking is done on a flat top grill that looked to be in great condition, although well-used. At the far end of the diner there is a sign for a public telephone above a wooden door. When I finished my breakfast I went to the restroom, ostensibly to wash my hands. In fact, I wanted to have a peek at the kitchen in the back and to see if there was actually a telephone. The restrooms were functional, the kitchen chaotic bur clean, and just beyond the closed door was a wooden shelf where a public telephone was once mounted.

Summit Diner, Somerset, Pennsylvania 

The Summit Diner in Somerset, Pennsylvania was opened in July 1960. Sitting just off the interstate, the diner serves both local patrons and travelers willing to spurn the predictable fast food chains nearby. On my way to Pittsburgh in July, I stopped in for a lunch of grilled ham and cheese, homemade coleslaw and unsweetened iced tea for $6.50. In September two women came in while I was eating my lunch, one carrying a young baby. An older waitress called across the diner, “How old is that baby?” The woman, a little timidly replied, “five weeks.” The waitress exclaimed, “Good. You have to be at least a month old to come into this diner. We may have to card him.”  

The Egg & You Diner in Fort Lauderdale, operating since 1956, is an old hangout of my uncle. It is diner-style restaurant that serves traditional food in a classic diner atmosphere, complete with stools across the front of the dining room. While visiting in November I was treated to a gyro, fries and coleslaw.

The diners serve as a window to the past and the communities where they are located. It is difficult to imagine the disappearance of these gathering places for the sake of eating nondescript predictable food from chains that have more money to advertise. 

Faux Tourism

I constantly find myself surprised at the popularity of destinations that are solely designed to sell products. Places like M&M World in Times Square have the feeling of a tourist destination, but in reality is nothing more than a place to sell M&M products and memorabilia rather than an Enlightenment sense of education and self-improvement. There is a sophistication to these stores, including using smells to directly stimulate the senses of those who enter. Patrons are charged almost as much as a film at the mall cinema for a 30-minute film (complete with 3D and fragrances). This consumer tourism creates an imperative to spend more money by fostering (debatable) nostalgia. Many people readily buy in (pun fully intended).

I took my niece and nephew to Hershey’s Chocolate World – a place that is big on hype, but rather short on intellectual engagement. The gratis ride through a “chocolate factory” gives the air of information and education. Actually, it is a poor substitute for an actual factory. As the ride makes its way through video screens and plastic mock-ups of chocolate producing machinery, a happy voice describes the process of making Hershey products. The narrative is all but drowned out by singing cows that extoll the health benefits of the milk in milk chocolate (“It’s Moo-tritious”). In the penultimate display, the visitor is told to smile for a photograph, which can be purchased in the gift shop. Finally, while exiting the ride, we are told that Hershey’s number one goal is to keep a smile on your face. (All this time I thought it was to make money!)

Call me cynical, but very little attention is paid to Milton Hershey (1857-1945), his inventions or good works. No doubt that there are dissenting views, but the Hershey School (f. 1909) and his model town for employees are certainly admirable. There is a collage of him and his work at the entrance to the ride, but it is overshadowed by lights and noises that beckon the visitor to singing cows, as over-stimulated kids and frustrated parents carelessly walk by.