Published by The History Press
Charleston, SC 29403
www.historypress.net
Copyright © 2010 by Len Barcousky
All rights reserved
Front cover images: Pittsburgh at dawn, Darrell Sapp of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette; Union Depot, Senator John Heinz History Center. Back cover images: statue, Robin Rombach of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette; balloon, Pittsburgh Press; and Roosevelt rally, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
First published 2010
e-book edition 2012
ISBN 978.1.61423.272.8
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Barcousky, Len.
Remembering Pittsburgh : an eyewitness history of the Steel City / Len Barcousky.
p. cm.
Collection of author’s historical columns from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
print edition ISBN 978-1-60949-008-9
1. Pittsburgh (Pa.)--History. I. Title.
F159.P657B37 2010
974.8’86--dc22
2010020921
Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For my wife Barbara, who keeps me on an even keel.
CONTENTS
Foreword: Stories That “Travel,” by David M. Shribman
Preface: Finding the First Drafts of Pittsburgh History
Acknowledgements
Introduction: The Real Gateway to the West
1. The Great and the Good
1753: Washington Gets to the Point
1825: Pittsburgh Honors Lafayette, “the Nation’s Guest”
1861: Lincoln Looks South
1919: H.J. Heinz: A Giant Passes
1927: Silent Cal Speaks—Briefly
1936: Roosevelt Versus Landon, Knox and Coughlin
2. Bad Guys—and One Gal
1818: No Jail Could Hold This Pittsburgh Thief
1858: Woman Who Killed Faces the Hangman
1869: A Shady Stranger on a Train
3. Wars, Revolutions and Rebellions
1755: Life and Sudden Death at Fort Duquesne
1763: Bouquet’s Victory
1763: Fort Pitt Survives Flood, Siege
1794: The Whiskey Rebellion Fails; Hugh Henry Brackenridge Survives
1863: As Lee Moves North, Pittsburgh Digs In
1941: Saddened Mother Learns the Dual Meaning of “Aloha”
4. Pittsburgh’s Progress
1758: The City Gets a Name
1786: First Newspaper West of the Alleghenies
1800: Jeffersonians Speak Loudly
1804: Pittsburgh Almanack Mixes Practical, Poetic
1811: Twenty-one Hundred Miles by Steamboat to New Orleans
1845: “Fearful Calamity”—a Great Fire—Burns Itself Out
1854: Pittsburgh to Philadelphia in—Gulp—a Day
1856: Republicans Get Their Act Together Downtown
1908: “Ceremonies, Pleasant Rioting” Mark City’s 150th Birthday
5. Pittsburgh Makes…
1862: No Exaggerating Horrors of Arsenal Explosion
1877: Rumors, Ruins Remain After Rail Strike
1881: Gompers Helps Workers of the U.S. Unite
1891: Dark, Deadly Days Underground
1894: Mr. Coxey Goes to Washington
6. City with a Conscience
1859: Split Decision on Slavery
1864: Civil War Relief Effort More Than “Fair”
1869: Pittsburgh “Marriage” Heals Presbyterian Split
1889: Canute on the Little Conemaugh
1914: When Billy Sunday Preached, 1.6 Million Listened
1920: Election Marks Firsts for Women, Radio
1927: Symphony Out of Tune with Blue Laws
7. Now, That’s Entertainment
1823: Frontier Pittsburgh Pursues Culture
1851: Jenny Lind Leaves Pittsburgh Wanting More
1860: A Runaway Balloon Means “Pittsburgh, We Have a Problem”
1867: No Joy in Pittsburgh When Rower Claims a Foul
1890: Nellie Bly Comes Home
1903: Something Dangerous to Do in the Dark
1912: Miss Russell, a New Bride, Advises
1927: Stunt Driver Inclined to Test Himself
Bibliography and Further Reading
About the Author
FOREWORD
STORIES THAT “TRAVEL”
We print the present, or what just happened. Many social and literary critics believe that the daily newspaper is history, but history is what we seldom offer. More often we write about what happened yesterday—or, on the Web, a few minutes ago—and on rare occasions we look back at an event or a trend to write about how it developed. But in almost no case can modern American newspapers be regarded as deep explorers of history.
The presence of the word almost in the last sentence was no accident, because one of the most endearing aspects of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette is its respect for, and exploration of, history even as the newspaper and its Website strive to produce a lively, contemporary news report, focusing on what happened yesterday, an hour ago or a few minutes ago. Here at the Post-Gazette, we look backward and forward at the same time. It’s more than our niche; it’s part of our character.
And it’s a result of the characters we have on this remarkable staff. One of them is Len Barcousky, who by day is one of the sharpest, shrewdest reporters on any newspaper—anywhere. He believes deeply in news—on finding out what just happened. But he believes, too, in going deeper—in understanding why things happened. He searches for what is coming next, to be sure. But he also searches for what came before.
Len Barcousky is an unusual newspaper reporter, which is in part why the Post-Gazette is an unusual newspaper. We believe we have a role in the future, but we also believe the past has a role in our lives. Not a week goes by in the Post-Gazette without an important story about something that didn’t happen yesterday. I insist on it. More important, our readers insist on it.
Let me say something about what we normally produce in the course of every day: stories with a short shelf life. Because if there is one truth about newspapering it is this: newspaper stories don’t travel. Sure, you can cut them out and send them across the country in an envelope. (Memo to college students: Your parents can explain how that works.) Or you can zap them across town on your computer or portable device. But when I say newspaper stories don’t travel, I mean that they don’t travel in time. The only thing staler than yesterday’s politician is news about yesterday’s politician. Pick up an old newspaper at an estate sale or an antique store and you will be captivated—by the ads, not the stories. Our stories are like fresh bread from one of Pittsburgh’s signature bakeries: No preservatives. Stale after a short while.
That’s another reason why Len Barcousky stands out. He writes stories that stick around. You don’t have to read them on Sunday morning in their reliable spot on the second page of the paper. You can read them the next day, the next week or the next year. The past doesn’t change, which is why Len is probably the only member of our staff whose stories would fit comfortably between covers of a book. Yesterday’s kerfuffle over property tax rates or last week’s contretemps in city council are soon forgotten—in many cases for good reason. Not so the stories in
this book. They hang around with us, in large measure because their effects hang with us for decades, even centuries.
So open this book and hang with it for a while. You might put it down for a bit, but you’ll pick it up again. Guaranteed. These are not the stories of your life. They are the stories that created the stories of your life. In this case, the past is a great present—to us all, from one of Pittsburgh’s great storytellers. But then again, he had great material.
David M. Shribman is executive editor of the Post-Gazette.
He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1995 for his coverage of Washington.
PREFACE
FINDING THE FIRST DRAFTS OF PITTSBURGH HISTORY
For the past several years, I have been squinting at often-fuzzy microfilm in search of firsthand reports on life in Pittsburgh over the past two centuries.
These old news stories, rich in human interest tales and almost always written by anonymous reporters, have provided material for the “Eyewitness” series that appears every other week in the A section of the Sunday Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. This feature began in 2007 as part of the paper’s commemoration of the city’s 250th birthday and has continued as a regular feature.
Journalism often is called the first rough draft of history. What struck me as I’ve browsed through the microfilm is how well so many of those rough drafts have held up.
From their earliest days, the Pittsburgh Gazette and its many local competitors have offered a buffet to readers. Each edition would mix political dispatches with poetry and business briefs with book news.
Many of the old advertisements dealt with still-familiar problems. In June 1825, hair-restoration potions and stomach elixirs—think Rogaine and Nexium—competed for space with a report listing the more than two thousand prizes to be offered in the next drawing of the Maryland State Lottery. “Every prize, payable in cash” was “subject to a deduction of 15 percent,” the newspaper reminded readers. For me the constant danger in trawling through microfilm is getting caught up in reading lottery stories or nineteenth-century dialect jokes that have nothing to do with the subjects I’m researching.
I’ve found next-day stories that describe the ghastly, the whimsical and the enchanting.
The former included reports on disasters like the Johnstown flood of 1889 and the 1862 Allegheny Arsenal explosion, which happened in what was then the Pittsburgh suburb of Lawrenceville. Much of the coverage of the arsenal carnage would not seem out of place in a twenty-first-century blog. An indefatigable on-the-scene reporter described the devastation in graphic detail. He then sought to talk to as many eyewitnesses as he could find, trying to ferret out the cause of the explosions that killed almost eighty people.
Pittsburgh newspapers did not ignore the lighter sides of life at the Forks of the Ohio.
Once the Civil War ended, residents could get back to two of their real passions: sports and wagering.
In May 1867, gamblers from across the country converged on the city to watch a championship single-scull race on the Monongahela and Ohio Rivers. When out-of-towner Walter Brown was declared the winner of the five-mile contest, his Pittsburgh competitor, James Hamill, claimed he had been fouled. Brown left hurriedly by train for the east, fearing “personal violence,” the Gazette reported.
Jenny Lind, the singer known as the Swedish nightingale, visited Pittsburgh in 1851 for what promoter P.T. Barnum hoped would be at least two performances. Her fans filled the theater, and thousands clogged neighboring streets. According to the next-day story on the concert, the size and energy of the crowd so unnerved the singer that she was unable to collect herself enough to give a second recital.
Reading through dozens of these old stories was a reminder to me that because my colleagues and I work for a newspaper, we contribute each day to the written record of our community.
The Pittsburgh Gazette, the direct ancestor of the modern-day Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, was founded in 1786 and is the oldest newspaper west of the Alleghenies. I came to the paper in 1986, its 200th anniversary, and have spent twenty-four years here as an editor and reporter. That’s a mere 10 percent of its history.
Here’s a personally unnerving statistic I’ve pondered as I adapt to the idea of having a president younger than me: I’m fifty-nine as I write this. My life now encompasses a full 25 percent of the 234-year history of the independent United States. No wonder my hip joint aches sometimes.
I like to think that I am honoring some of the hard work of my long-gone colleagues as I select from among both their front-page and inside-the-paper stories. While the microfilm room at the Carnegie Library in Oakland is a busy place—genealogy being another Pittsburgh passion—I suspect that many of the pages I’ve been skimming haven’t been read for a century or more.
That’s the nature of newspaper work.
Still, it’s too bad. I’ve found that just about every old edition has a story—or sometimes just a paragraph—that still can amuse, uplift, inform or open a window into everyday life: “We saw the other day some remarkably fine cucumbers, seven and eight inches long,” the Pittsburgh Gazette reported on April 28, 1851. “This novelty in the market at this early season, led us to inquire who was the successful cultivator.” The gardener’s name was Mr. Plines. “If all his vegetables are as fine and as early as his cucumbers, he is a cultivator worth having.”
Enjoy just a sampling of the bounty of the Post-Gazette’s garden.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A book—like victory—has many fathers and mothers. This one became possible with the support of many parents. I am grateful to the top editors at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, especially publisher and editor in chief John Robinson Block and executive editor David M. Shribman. They both are committed to running stories that examine and seek to explain our past. I also am grateful to my immediate supervisors. They have included several north bureau chiefs and suburban editors who gave me time and encouragement to work on these pieces. Thanks also to the editors who have overseen the Post-Gazette’s Page 2 features—David Michelmore, John Allison and Gary Rotstein—where most of these stories originally appeared. I appreciate the good work of the newspaper’s copy editors. They have challenged me and improved these accounts. Allison Alexander, the newspaper’s marketing services manager, helped to work out the terms of the contract that turned columns into a book.
No good work on Pittsburgh history could be done without aid from excellent local libraries and their skilled librarians. Their ranks include Angelika Kane and Steve Karlinchak at the Post-Gazette and head librarian Art Louderback and chief archivist David Grinnell at the Senator John Heinz History Center. Reference staff members in the Pennsylvania Room at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh also have been helpful on my many trips to that institution.
Post-Gazette photography is an important part of this book. I have gotten excellent cooperation from Andy Starnes, John Heller, Robin Rombach and Jim Mendenhall.
I am grateful to my wife, Barbara, and my children, Peter and Sarah, who have listened patiently—mostly—when I returned from the Carnegie Library, eager to talk about my latest discoveries among the rolls of microfilm.
My greatest debt, however, is to the mostly anonymous reporters who have covered Pittsburgh for more than two centuries. Their first impressions of events great and small provide glimpses into the lives of those of us who have been lucky enough to live near the Forks of the Ohio.
INTRODUCTION
THE REAL GATEWAY TO THE WEST
A visit in November 1753 to Pittsburgh’s Point gave George Washington another “first” to add to his list of accomplishments. Upon his death in 1799, the Revolutionary War general and first president of the United States was eulogized as being “first in war, first in peace and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” Add “first” to write about the military importance of the spot where the Allegheny and the Monongahela Rivers join to form the Ohio.
“I spent some time in viewing the Rivers, and the Land in the Fork, which I
think extremely well situated for a Fort, as it has the absolute Command for both Rivers,” Washington wrote in his journal.
The history of Pittsburgh involves interconnected stories about making things—glass, iron, petroleum products, steel, aluminum, packaged food—in new and more efficient ways. It also is a story of struggles. The first fights were for physical possession of an area rich in natural resources and the waterways to transport them. The later struggles, which continue today, involve the often-conflicting interests of workers and employers over how to share the region’s wealth.
Indian chief Guyasuta and young George Washington meet again atop Pittsburgh’s Mount Washington neighborhood. Guyasuta, once a scout for the British, later was one of the leaders of Pontiac’s rebellion against them. Courtesy Robin Rombach of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
Washington was just twenty-one when he first saw the Forks of the Ohio, and he would make several more journeys to the Pittsburgh area over the next few years. This was the time when the French, British and Native American empires battled to control the interior of North America.
“It was a spur of land that everybody wanted. Control it and you could control the flow of goods—and of settlers—in the Ohio valley. It was the original gateway to the west,” said Dr. Holly Mayer, associate professor and chair of the History Department at Duquesne University.
While the English were the first to set up a military outpost at the Point in 1754, a larger French force, coming down from Canada, soon sent them packing. The building of Fort Duquesne was followed by a four-year effort by the British and the colonial governments in Virginia and Pennsylvania to dislodge the French and gain control of the Point. While politicians in Williamsburg, Virginia’s capital, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania’s capital, continued to feud over which colony should control the Ohio country, both agreed that the region definitely was not French.
Washington came back in 1754 and 1755 as part of military expeditions that failed to evict the French. British and colonial forces had better luck in 1758. General John Forbes, with Washington serving as an aide, led the army that occupied the smoking ruins of Fort Duquesne. Facing a much larger enemy force, the French had burned their fort and fled down the Ohio.
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