Innamaroto Hosts County Conversation in McKeesport

March 13, 2024

McKeesport Appoints New Police Chief

November 20, 2023

On October 4, 2023, the city of McKeesport held an installation ceremony at the City Council meeting for the new Police Chief Mark Steele, previously the assistant chief.

Pennsylvania magisterial judge Eugene Riazzi swore in Steele, and he received his badge from the former police chief Adam Alfer, who after many years of service has moved on to become police chief for the South Allegheny School  District.

The judge remembers when the chief,  at age 18, enrolled in and trained at the police academy.  Mayor Mike Cherepko said  that he and Police Chief Steele share  a “friendship and a professional relationship.”  The Mayor also stated that both Police Chiefs, Mark Steele and Adam Alfer” are good leaders and demonstrate good leadership.”

“Police officers persevere through pain and sorrow. They are on the front lines. They hope to return home safely. Their families don’t want to hear that they are not coming home. The officers have the best interest of the people, so that we can get a good night’s sleep. ,” Cherepeko said.

The  Proclamation from the City of McKeesport awards were presented by the Mayor to both men and women emergency service personnel.  Each wore their navy blue uniform, with hat and spit-shined boots. Awards were given to deputy chiefs, captains, sergeants,  lieutenants, police officers and staff  from  the Housing Authority.  The awards were given to each of them for their bravery and efforts to help evacuate the McKeesport Towers.

On September 8, 2023, shortly before 3 p.m. a fire broke out on the 7th floor of the building,  According to the Mayor, the evacuation of the 175 residents was carried out and they  were able to go back, according to the Mayor.  

“It is an honor as Mayor to acknowledge the men and women of the Emergency  Service,” Cherepko said. “They helped the people.”

October is Fire Safety Month, and McKeesport firefighters plan to visit schools and daycare centers to  teach fire prevention and promote safety for kids. The firefighters will also host a “Coats for Kids” event  at  Twin Rivers School. There will also be another event in October for Cancer Awareness Month and  t-shirts will be given out.

As the meeting wrapped up, Kennon Mikell came forward  to speak about concerns he has for having more police patrolling area where there is a negative element and making  the community a  safe environment.  

The meeting adjourned at 8:00 p.m.

- Colette Funches

Good Neighbor Day 2023

AUGUST 22, 2023

The McKeesport Community Newsroom celebrated Good Neighbor Day by asking for community leaders and advocates from the McKeesport area for their thoughts on what makes a good neighbor and how to build community in their increasingly transient city.

Originally filmed on June 15, 2023.

Interviewers are Nya O'Neal, Jim Busch, Colette Funches and Nie'Zhay Jefferson.

Our guests (in order of appearance) are McKeesport Mayor Michael Cherepko, Social Worker Keenan Michel, Women for a Healthy Environment educator Germaine Gooden-Patterson, Meals on Wheels coordinator Rose Marshall, President of NAACP McKeesport Unit Brenda Sawyer, McKeesport resident Maria Palmer, photographer Kyle Nelson, Youth advocate Harold Allen and McKeesport Fire Chief Jeffrey Tomovcsik.

Audio/Video: Wayne Gaines and Tanner Knapp, from the Center for Media Innovation at Point Park University.

Editing: Nick Konopka, Broadcast production major at Point Park University.

An Ode to McKeesport

August 22, 2023

Dreams

Below a cloud of sadness and despair

McKeesport Area High School houses determined minds

Into the heavy clouds, the bright eyes of dreamers’ stare

Hope is not a foreign concept within the Mon Valley

In fact, the Valley is the place where true dreamers reside Valedictorian of the class of 2023

A young woman goes on to achieve her dreams of becoming a teacher

Her best friend, salutatorian, faces the Big Apple on her way to the big screen

With stars in their eyes and the Mon Valley behind them

They can do anything

Tube City is not what it seems

We are not bad for we all have dreams

And we can reach them just like anyone else.

Escape

A crow is born in the branches

Subject to violence and anger

He knows not how to fly, so he never really tries

Beaten down and shoved into a cage

He loses hope and can only remain

But wait, the crow catches a glimpse of light in the distance

The light of Tube City

He takes a stand and rises from the ashes of who he was assumed to be

Born as a crow, evolves into a dove

He spreads his wings and flies towards the light

Searching, and finding, a life of better opportunities.

Sights

One does not come to stare at your sights

Your abandoned Coney Island is not very visually pleasing

This is just a fraction of your natural beauty

A beauty that none expect to see

The soft, dark green grass in Renzie Park

The scent of tasty barbecue wafting from the Blue Top

To see you, to truly see you, is to see this

Your sky behind the clouds is as bright as your dreamers' eyes

McKeesport, you give outsiders a wonderful surprise

Family

In Mon Valley, we are all tied together

We hold a strong bond with one another

It may not be easily seen

But it really is there

"Once a Tiger, always a Tiger"

Are these words familiar?

They are more than just a simple phrase

They are the McKeesport oath

Promising that we will always stick together

An Ode to My Valley

McKeesport, my home

Home to more than just criminals

You protect the dreamers, the crows

The doves and the Tigers

There is more to you than what they all see

Your beauty is in the eye of the beholder

From Renzie Park all the way to downtown

Laughter dances on your wind

Local children play in your gentle breeze

My sister thrives within your community theater

My brother sees a future because of your city baseball league

I find myself finding myself amongst your people

McKeesport, Mon Valley, Tube City

You are proof that one should not judge a book by its cover

  -    Nie’Zhay Jefferson

McKeesport will always be home for Peg Luketic

August 17, 2023

What makes a Mon Valley person? It is their friendliness, their willingness to help another person and their love of the history or shared memories of the Mon Valley.

Peg Luketic, a retired social worker who lived in McKeesport for most of her life before moving to White Oak, fits that description without reservation.  “I’ve always felt like a McKeesporter,” she said.

Peg was born in McKeesport and in her early years lived with family in the Crawford Village public housing complex, where her Scottish grandfather was head of maintenance. Their unit, 16H, along with other older sections of the complex, was demolished in the 1960s.

Today, she shops at Minerva’s Bakery, attends the McKeesport Festival of Trees at Christmastime, patronizes the Carnegie Library branch in McKeesport and volunteers at the McKeesport History and Heritage Center.“When you know about a city and those who have lived there the longest, you know it’s a place where people can call their home,” she said.

At age 5, Peg moved with her parents and siblings to Elizabeth Township, where she went to elementary and high school. She attended California State University, now known as PennWest California, and married Gene Luketic, another McKeesport native, when they were both 20.

The then newlyweds lived for three years in Washington, D.C., where their daughter Andi was born. While there, Peg worked at the High’s Dairy office and Gene worked at St. Elizabeths Hospital, a psychiatric facility.  They returned to their roots in McKeesport when Andi was almost 3 years old to be close to family.  

When she was 13, a visit to the Carnegie Library of McKeesport with her mother left her impressed with the beautiful building and the lovely big houses nearby. She later had an opportunity to buy one of those homes, where she lived with husband Gene and family for 35 years.

Her daughter attended McKeesport’s Model School, a public magnet school that offered an innovative curriculum. She transferred to Centennial, her neighborhood school, in fifth grade when the Model School closed. Peg's son, Vince, was born several years after the family returned to McKeesport. Both children stayed close. “Our son now lives five blocks away and our daughter lives five doors away,” Peg said with a laugh.

As a child, Peg remembers traveling by bus to McKeesport from Elizabeth Township with her younger sister. McKeesport was a thriving city then, the third busiest in the state after Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. At its peak during the 1940s, McKeesport boasted some 55,000 residents. Today, in 2023, there are about 17,500 people living in the city.

“McKeesport had every kind of store. You could buy everything you wanted there,” she said. “People didn’t like to leave the valley to go into Pittsburgh.”

She and her sister would spend the day in McKeesport shopping and going to the movies. Peg remembers that there were four movie theaters in the city at the time. She also recalls going to H.L. Green Co., a five and dime store, to buy french fries and a Pepsi for 25 cents.

“The (John P Harris) Memorial Theatre on Walnut and 5th Avenue was elegant. I loved it. It was special. The town had nice restaurants too,” Peg said.

There were many businesses on 5th Avenue, including department stores, shoe stores, butcher shops, a furniture store, and a millinery store. Immel’s, Jaison’s and Kadar’s were among the many clothing shops. Cox’s Department Store, a local landmark from 1955 to 1983, was an upscale clothing store for women, men and children with a bridal shop. Peg often shopped at the Virginia Dare store or the Darling shop because clothing there was less expensive.

In 1976, when Peg was working for a social service agency in McKeesport, she remembers the windy day when a tragic fire destroyed the Famous Department Store and other businesses.

One of her most special memories was visiting her Sicilian grandfather, Vincent Viscuso, who emigrated to this country in 1905 at age 18. He operated a confectionary store on West 5th Avenue, where he made homemade sausage sandwiches and a salve, “Skin Q,” using a formula that he brought from Sicily. “People came from all over to buy it. I still have a jar of it.” she said.

At one time, according to family lore, the store was raided for allegedly producing moonshine.

Peg fondly recalls her grandfather, her visits to his store and him dropping by her house for Sunday dinners.  “He was very kind and sweet to me. He spoke broken English and could not read or write in English … I loved him so much,” she said. Sadly, he died in 1961 at age 72.

She still recalls stopping at the streetcar island to safely cross West 5th Avenue after walking the Jerome Street Bridge across the Youghiogheny River to visit her grandfather after leaving the movie theater.

When her grandmother died at age 30, leaving behind four boys between the ages of 15 down to 8 months, Peg’s grandfather sent her father, then 8 years old, and his 10-year-old brother to travel by train across the country to temporarily live with relatives in California. That arrangement lasted three years.

Before her mother-in-law died, Peg has fond memories of people coming to her now abandoned family home on Union Avenue for raucous Christmas Eve parties. Afterwards, everyone walked the two blocks to Shaw Avenue to Sacred Heart Catholic church for midnight Mass.

Over the years, Peg has seen many changes in McKeesport. She worries today about crime in the city, although she says that she has never felt unsafe.  Her daughter, however, was mugged once, but successfully fought off three high school boys to save the library card inside her purse. “She got to keep her purse!” Peg said, smiling proudly.

She feels nostalgic about McKeesport today, and thinks about the old people who have died, leaving behind abandoned houses that landlords buy and don’t keep up. “You have to have a sense of loyalty to a city,” she said. “You can’t always think the grass is greener elsewhere, and you have to care about people.”

- Colette Funches

Mon Valley Residents Reflect On Their Common Bonds

August 10, 2023

Getting ready for today was nerve-wracking, but fun. I spoke with a few McKeesport residents who helped me answer the question we, as journalists, have been tasked with exploring: what makes a Mon-Valley type of person?

Laureese Harper, 53, a lifelong resident and vice president of the McKeesport Little Tigers, a community youth sports organization, said she loves living in McKeesport. “It has its flaws just like any other community, but I think it's a very resilient community and it’s a community that has a lot of pride,” she said.

Love and connection were apparent during a short conversation at Renzie Park following a Little Tigers event where many children were running around with their parents following right behind them. As families left the park, Ms. Harper was met with hugs and calls of see ya later.

The huge turnout for kids speaks volumes about McKeesport and the consistent community support that outdoes its sometimes-bad reputation. “You know oftentimes when people think about McKeesport they think about the violence, but it’s a very small portion of what goes on here,” Ms. Harper said. “Everyone still comes together on Sunday and Friday nights for the football games. It's just amazing.”

Ms. Harper wants to develop more programs to create safe spaces for youth. “The kids get a bad rep in this community,” she said. “They’re bad. They’re this, they’re that. They’re in bad situations, but they’re not bad kids.”.

Nevaeh Kennedy, 16, a rising junior at McKeesport Area High School, spent her childhood having fun and playing with friends. The former cheerleader at Little Tiger games now cheers for the high school teams, and believes a Mon Valley person is loud, out-going, funny, and athletic.

Growing up, Nevaeh struggled with grief and trauma over family members and friends killed by gun violence and hopes someday to help others cope with the pain she experienced. Asked about resources available to young people touched by violence, Nevaeh said there was not enough help and comfort beyond what parents could offer. Just having a safe person to talk to and a safe place to go when you're sad, or you need a quiet place, would have been a huge help, she said.

So, Nevaeh plans on becoming that person. She wants to attend college and train to become a therapist to help others. Her mother, she said, is her inspiration.  

Nathan and Amanda Young, both 41, are raising their children in White Oak, where Mrs. Young’s grandfather first settled. Mr. Young is a Braddock native and moved to White Oak with his wife. Mrs. Young felt her childhood here was fine with close family being a plus, but she would like more for her children. “There could be a little bit more, more communication, more community events,” she said. “That togetherness feeling would be nice.”

Moving from Braddock to White Oak was not exactly what Mr. Young thought life in the suburbs would be. Based on “being a kid from the hood who probably watched way too much TV, I thought that people would be more welcoming. They would bring casseroles and say hi.”

Mr. Young said he has grown to appreciate people who care for and support the community just as they were supported while growing up. “But I also see there’s a lot of people who just decided not to share that wealth back … to pay it forward,” he said.

Mr. Young has seen the impact of too little support on youth sports teams that need more instructors and better equipment. He feels more community involvement would pay off in a better future for children.

Through all of this, the Youngs describe Mon Valley people as hard-working and protective, always wanting the best for their families.

Jo Ellen Kenney, retired children’s librarian, and director of the McKeesport Carnegie Library, traced the beginning of her career to being a volunteer Girl Scout page at the library she would later direct. After earning a degree in elementary and library science, she worked as a school librarian all over the McKeesport district. She became the McKeesport library director after being a librarian for 10 years and earning a master’s degree.

Local schools have recently stopped hiring librarians, a trend Ms. Kenney called a travesty. Even though Ms. Kenny is aware the library world has changed, she believes this instruction is still valuable. “I think having library instruction in the library by a librarian is different from the classroom teachers trying to incorporate it into their lessons,” she said.

From Ms. Kenney’s perspective, Mon Valley families take care of their own, including the elderly, and do what they can to help when issues arrive. She said we come from a strong base of family, friendship, and loyalty, and if we could get common respect back all the other pieces of life will fall into place.

Vincent Wright, 58, was born and raised in McKeesport and is a chef who runs his own catering business. He is a hardworking and charitable man, who uses his gift in food to spread love and support to others.

 However, the food industry has been tough since the pandemic. Higher costs and lower customer traffic forced him to close a restaurant location he operated in a UPMC facility near Fox Chapel. “I didn’t want to shut it down, but my mom said to go out on grace. You did your best and sometimes you can’t make everything work out,” he said.

Mr. Wright finds comfort in giving back to the community that helped him. He often helps out at the Sonshine Community Kitchen in McKeesport. “I do a lot of volunteering,” he said. “You just can't always be on the receiving end, you gotta give back.”

He believes people care but are discouraged with the city’s direction. He sees a need for change including more involvement from residents, an improved relationship between police and residents, local churches uniting again, and everyone loving one another.

Mr. Wright said he loves McKeesport. “It’s just going to take more people coming together and, like I said, love. McKeesport got a lot of love,” he said.

During my conversations, I was met with bright smiles, laughter, wisdom, hope, and lots of love. It gave me hope that we can continue to come together, fight through and fix obstacles that arrive. After all, a Mon Valley person is hard working, protective, strong, resilient, giving, caring and passionate.

  -       Nya O’Neal

Ethnic Foods Bring People Together in the Mon Valley

August 10, 2023

What makes a person a true citizen of the Mon-Yough area?

There are many things that define the folks who live here. As the descendants of pioneers, miners, “mill hunks” and other blue-collar types, they are hard workers - the kind of folks that generally don’t put on airs and who will let you merge into traffic and smile at you in the grocery store.

They take care of their elders and are proud of their children, and they know their neighbor’s names. They talk about how good things were back in the old days but wouldn’t think of moving away. They give directions based on landmarks that have been gone for decades: “Turn where the Zayres used to be!” They are people who honor their ethnic heritage but are proud of being 100 percent American.

With so much to choose from in isolating what makes a genuine Mon-Yough kind of person, I decided to fall back on the old adage, “you are what you eat!” The kaleidoscope of dishes and cuisines that we enjoy in our multicultural valley has a lot to do with who we are and how we live and think.

How disconcerting it must have been for our immigrant ancestors to come here, I have often thought. Imagine leaving a rural village in Italy or Slovakia or even southern Alabama to come to a gritty, smoky mill town with its furnaces like fire-breathing dragons – a place where the people didn’t speak your language or look or dress like anyone you’ve ever known. In the 19th and early 20thcenturies, this was akin to colonizing Mars. In most cases, these people knew they would never see their old homes or families again.

The new Americans had only a few things to help ease the homesickness of traveling to a new land. Some managed to bring a musical instrument and most remembered the songs they heard as a child. One of the first things they did was to start the many ethnic churches that decorated our hills with onion domes and steeples.

         Yet, the strongest link to the old ways was the food the immigrant mothers fed their families. The most valuable things these travelers brought with them to the new world was not packed in their suitcases but came in the hearts and memories of the immigrant women - a treasure trove of old world recipes and food ways.

The food traditions of the Mon-Yough region stick with us like a plate of pierogi sticks to one’s ribs. Families that no longer know a word of the language their grandparents spoke, still observe their family’s food traditions. In my family, I still make my Irish grandmother’s soda bread on St Patrick’s Day and enjoy my German father’s pork and sauerkraut at the New Year. Traditions evolve and change over the years; I no longer make my own kraut in the basement like my father did, but I still honor his traditions. The great granddaughters of the Polish women who worked all day in the kitchen, now grab a box of Mrs. Ts Pierogis from the freezer when they get home from the office but, they still fry them with onions and gobs of butter.

The newcomers at first gathered in ethnic neighborhoods. Every town had Italian neighborhoods, Polish neighborhoods, Jewish neighborhoods and other ethnic enclaves. Before long ethnic shops and restaurants grew up to serve the needs of these communities.

 A good friend told me about growing up in an Italian section of Rankin overlooking the Carrie Blast Furnaces. His neighbors not only were first or second generation Italians but most of them came from the same small town north of Rome. The postage stamp sized yards in his neighborhood were planted with heirloom San Marzano tomato plants, basil and oregano.

My wife’s Hungarian grandmother lived in McKeesport for almost 30 years without speaking a word of English. She went to the Hungarian church, shopped at the Hungarian bakery, the Hungarian grocers and the Hungarian butcher shop. My wife’s father had fond memories of those days. On Sundays, after church, the men would gather around a fire in the apartment block’s courtyard cooking Sult Szalonna.

Sult Szalonna is made with slab bacon, which is prepared by making cuts through the rind and cooking it on a stick over the fire, occasionally removing it to mop up the grease with thick homemade bread. As the meat cooked it would shrink and the cuts in the rind would open like the ridges on a rooster’s head, giving it its Hungarian name Cocks Comb. The men dressed in traditional Magyar clothing and would play traditional instruments, sing Hungarian folk songs and swap memories of the old country.

Of course, as men worked shoulder to shoulder in the mills and, as young people began to fall in love with those outside of their communities, food traditions began to merge. My dad worked at the Westinghouse Large Rotating Apparatus (LRA) plant in East Pittsburgh with men of many ethnicities. Every week or so, someone would bring in a pot of food to share with his work buddies and would cook on the LRA’s large Babbitt Pot, which held more than a ton of molten bronze used for generator bearings.

         My dad would take in bratwurst and sauerkraut which would go into a communal pot. The pot was then floated on the molten metal in the Babbitt until it was fully cooked. Other guys would bring in kielbasa or ravioli. During a tour of the Carrie Blast furnace, a retired steelworker told me a similar story of shared meals cooked in the chamber holding the blast furnace’s sight glass.

Cupid also helped stir the area’s culinary melting pot. My mother-in-law grew up cooking the meat and potatoes cuisine of her mother’s English ancestors and the Pennsylvania Dutch food of her father’s people. (His sweet and sour fried green tomatoes are to die for). She had never heard of such a thing as a stuffed cabbage when she fell in love with a Hungarian sailor during World War II. Afraid her brother might starve; his sister made a hand lettered “Hunky” cookbook with special notations on the cuisine.

For example, the paprikash recipe begins “first steal a young chicken” and the hot pepper in tomato sauce recipe reads, “don’t be afraid of making this dish too spicy, nothing burns a Hungarian man’s mouth but the truth!” and concluding with the warning about Hungarian food: “The only problem with Hungarian food is that you eat it and three or four days later you’re hungry again.” To her credit, Eleanor, my mother-in-law, mastered the art of Hungarian cooking with John, her husband, declaring, “Norie’s haluski (cabbage and noodles) is better than my mother’s!”

As the ethnic neighborhoods broke up and people moved to the suburbs, we kids were exposed to all sorts of food traditions. Growing up, a visit to a friend’s house usually involved a sampling of their family’s food culture: a Greek friend’s grandmother’s hand rolled stuffed grape leaves, and an Italian mom’s freshly made raviolis. I loved when a friend’s Jewish mother asked me to stay for supper, which left me with a lifelong appreciation of potato pancakes and rugelach.

Because of Mon-Yougher’s love of traditional foods some of the oldest businesses in the area are restaurants and bakeries. One of the busiest retail shops in McKeesport is the Minerva Bakery. This shop has been filling the “sweet tooths” of locals for a century. Visit the website of Dorothy’s Candy and you’ll find their main selling point is “our kitchen is run exactly the same way as our founder Dorothy Gastel did 75 years ago.”

Angelo Teti, the current owner of Tillies Restaurant, knows the importance of tradition to local diners. Since 1962, when his mother opened the restaurant, they have used the sauce recipe that his grandmother brought with her from Italy. Teti makes his employees sign a pledge that they will not divulge the secret recipe.

“Not long ago, a customer came in and said he hadn’t been here in 40 years,” he told me. “He said, it was exactly as he remembered it. I was happy to hear that!”

Weddings are one of the strongest bastions of tradition in any society. In this area, people are as likely to have a wedding without rings, or a bride, than to have one without a cookie table. Cookie tables are a tradition going back to our working class roots. Not everyone could afford a fancy wedding cake, but if all the neighbors brought a plate of cookies, every guest could have something sweet to remember the day.

 Many modern brides who suggest skipping this tradition have learned just how much pressure their mothers, grandmothers, aunts and every older woman in a 5-mile radius can put on her. Not long ago I interviewed Laura Magore, the founder of the Cookie Table Community, a Facebook group dedicated to preserving this Western Pennsylvania tradition. She began the community group by posting photos of a cookie table she had done and before long 12,500 members were sharing their traditional recipes. The group secured a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records for the world’s longest cookie table with 8,850 cookies.

If you want to know what makes a person a true resident for the Mon-Yough area, there’s no better place to learn than at McKeesport’s International Village. There you will find pierogi’s and barbecue lamb, collard greens and ravioli, lady locks and fried rice. You’ll see Gallagher’s laughing with Martinellis, Kowalskis talking with Palmquists, and Johnsons shaking the hands of Schmidts.

 In short, you’ll see the people of the Mon-Yough area enjoying their food and enjoying one another. Sharing their ethnic pride and honoring the heritage of their neighbors, that’s what makes a true Mon-Yough resident.

- Jim Busch

Sharon Soles, Downtown McKeesport Girl

JULY 27, 2023

Sharon Soles' vivacious personality is complimented by the glamour and vibrancy of her dress. She always wears multiple gold rings, necklaces and bracelets. Her nails are professionally manicured and polished, and she sports a year-round tan. Sharon has a definite sense of fashion and herself and has no problem expressing strong opinions and preferences to anyone.

She never shies away from any controversy, especially if it involves whether Andy Warhol was born and reared in McKeesport, always arguing passionately on the side of the affirmative.

You will find Sharon, who calls herself a "downtown McKeesport girl," at the McKeesport Daily News building serving dually as the Tube City Center operations assistant and the Mon Valley Independent newspaper's McKeesport office manager during the week. She has a jewelry kiosk, SNOOKS, at The Lincoln Highway Hub and she and her husband, Keith Soles, are part owners of the TKO Gyros, Fries & More restaurant on Walnut Street.

 She dedicates any spare time that she has to various local charities and nonprofit organizations including the McKeesport History and Heritage Center, where she is on the board of directors, the McKeesport Lions and Kiwanis clubs, the McKeesport Trail Council, and others. She coordinates the gate coverage at McKeesport's International Village, an annual ethnic heritage festival.

Sharon participated in the 2014 GTECH Strategies’ ReClaim McKeesport ambassador program, taking on the project of beautifying the vacant lot adjacent to the McKees Point Palisades.

 She always has a wad of tickets to sell to raise funds for one of the organizations that she enthusiastically supports and never hesitates to help with any worthy cause that will benefit the McKeesport community.

Sharon was born in Morgantown, W.Va., while her family was traveling. She lived with her parents, Carmella (Nellie) and John Dobos, in several homes within walking distance of the then bustling downtown McKeesport until age six when they moved to North Versailles. She said her family lived "all over downtown McKeesport" during those first six years.

"We lived on Water Street, Tube Works Alley, and Vick Street before we moved to the country," she said. "I loved it. There were so many kids around and we had so much fun. We could do anything we wanted to do."

Spending so much of her childhood in McKeesport gave her an everlasting love for the town. Sharon's Slovak grandmother lived on Hazel Street near the McKeesport Hospital, now UPMC McKeesport, and she had a lot of family on nearby White Street too. She and her family regularly attended St. Nicholas Church in McKeesport.

Sharon went to first grade at the Sunset Elementary School in North Versailles and briefly attended St. Robert Bellarmine in East McKeesport before transferring to St. Peter’s, an all-girls elementary and high school on Market Street in McKeesport. She left St. Peter's in 11th grade to finish at Westinghouse Memorial High School in Wilmerding.

“My friends and I were tired of going to an all-girls school, so we skipped school and got caught,” she recalled, remembering her disappointment at not being able to attend McKeesport High School. 

 Sharon and her friends rode the bus into McKeesport to go to the city’s four theaters and to shop at the many clothing stores. She especially remembers the grandeur of the John P. Harris Memorial Theater with its magnificent architecture, marble floors, statuary, and red velvet drapes, comparing it to a palace.

“We took the city bus all the time because we came downtown McKeesport to all the movie theaters and to shop,” she said. "There were so many kids and that's what we did. Life was so different back then. Everything was so easy, and people were so nice. And everybody was so friendly.”

Her love of the Mon Valley is deeply rooted in her upbringing. Sharon's commitment to improving her community came from her mother, Nellie, a long-time North Versailles Township commissioner who was police commissioner until a couple years before she died at 89.

"I had the most wonderful parents in the world,” she said.

Sharon's dad was given the nickname Scrappy after a cartoon character who, like him, had a lock of dark, curly hair in the middle of his forehead. He became known as Fingers in later years because of his ability to spin a baseball. She put his nicknames in his obituary when he died at 73 because "down at the mill, nobody knew his first name." He was, according to Sharon, an "all-around athlete and a wonderful man" who was her mother’s bodyguard at public events.

"She'd have all these big political rallies and stuff, and dad would be out there dancing with everybody. If you're in a wheelchair, he’s spinning you around. He was the nicest guy in the world."

Sharon, who had a scholarship to attend beauty school after graduation, jokingly refers to herself as a "beauty school dropout." Instead, she took off with a group of about 30 friends to spend the first two summers after high school graduation working in Atlantic City, an early indication of her adventuresome spirit.

 Later, she attended the Community College of Allegheny County campus in McKeesport and enrolled at Penn State Harrisburg, focusing on her love of photography.

Sharon met her husband Keith when she was a jewelry department manager at the Eastland Gimbels store, and he was her stock boy. Sharon and Keith, a McKeesport real estate agent, business owner, and four-term member of McKeesport City Council, have been married for 24 years and have known each other for 45 years.

She worked at Gimbels until the store closed in 1987.

She was transferred by Marcus and Company, a jeweler owned by Gimbels, to New York City for three months to assist in the closure of Gimbel stores in the United States.

She was transferred to New Jersey where she continued to work for the company for almost a year. She learned the art of jewelry repair, a hobby she still enjoys, while working in New York. Sharon said that she was always "thrilled to return home" to McKeesport from her travels.

She developed an avid love of jewelry and fashion at a young age. She talks about going around to her Slovak grandmother's neighbors' homes as a child, asking if anyone had jewelry to get rid of. And, of course, they did.

Sharon demonstrates dedication, a strong work ethic, grit, and an unwavering commitment to her community every day through her good works and willingness to do whatever she can to promote and improve McKeesport. She is a genuine Mon Valley person.

- Peg Luketic

Mark Pawelec, Donora Historian

JULY 27, 2023

On McKean Avenue in Donora, once a heavily-trafficked and bustling street, lies a series of desolate, abandoned businesses. But on one corner, there’s a museum with a strange and endearing name: the Donora Smog Museum, named after a historic bout of deadly pollution in the 40s. It’s filled with loads of historical documents free to enter for anyone who wants to visit and learn.

 I noticed something during a recent trip that I didn’t always recognize when visiting the museum. In two buildings to the left of the museum, there’s no businesses anymore, like much of the rest of the street, but there are materials from the museum on display in the windows, such as old sports jerseys and artifacts of an old bridge in the area. It turns out this started with an idea from the museum historians for just one of the old storefronts.

 “People liked what we did so much, because it basically looked like the storefront was occupied, number one. It’s cleaned up, number two,” said Mark Pawelec, one of the historians, who talked with me outside the museum. He paused to say hello to someone passing by on the street, and then explained that the building owner liked it so much that he asked if they’d like to do the same to the next building.

 The museum got an offer to fill more of the storefronts with these artifacts. Though it became too expensive of a proposition for the museum, because they have to apply specific, costly materials to the windows to protect the items from the sun, this offer shows just how much the community respects and welcomes the museum.

 Mark, a longtime Donora resident, has volunteered with the museum for most of its 15 years in operation. He runs the museum with Brian Charlton, another passionate, knowledgeable and friendly Donora resident. The museum sees a surprisingly diverse range of visitors from around the world. The smog incident is an important part of the history of the international environmental movement and Stan Musial, a Donora native, is considered one of the best ever baseball players. The museum contains dizzying amounts of documents and artifacts from the past. Countless history lovers, researchers, journalists and artists have sunk hours and hours in that museum.

 Mark’s always been drawn to the area and its history. “I wanted to be involved in an established organization, and so they were, with an established museum,” Mark said. “It was just a way to do something in the community, be part of the community as far as just trying to give back.”

 As a way to help me better answer the question, What makes a Mon Valley person?, I figured I’d talk to Mark, a 64-year-old with an enormous amount of knowledge and passion about Donora, where I also grew up. Additionally, Mark happens to have my same first and last initials and my exact height.

 I’ve interviewed and written about Mark several times in the past for various news articles about the museum and Donora history, but I never before learned much about him as a person. When I met with him, we talked about the museum and his interest in volunteering with it, but I also shifted gears in our conversation to learn more about him as a person. In my attempts to get to know Mark better, I asked what he likes to do in his spare time. He mentioned he often plays basketball with a group of guys from across the Mon Valley, but then he talked for several minutes about his work with the museum, about how personally satisfying it was to work with people from all around the Pittsburgh area to clean up various parts of the Monongahela River’s riverbank in various towns, about how amazed he is by the range of people who visit the museum, about how fascinated visitors are  by the smallest details of the humble, struggling area he’s known since his childhood.

 “For them, this is like a spiritual kind of thing,” Mark said. “And so to be a part of that is pretty special.”

 Mark grew up in Donora, where he attended Donora High School, later turned into the Donora campus of Ringgold High School after a merger. That same building later turned into Donora Elementary Center, where I went to school as a kid. He got a technology-related degree from California State College, which was renamed to California University of Pennsylvania in 1983 and renamed again in 2022 to PennWest California. It’s colloquially known as Cal U. I grew up hearing the college referred to as a “thirteenth year of Ringgold,” given how many Ringgold grads attended it.

 Some time after college, Mark lived out of state for 13 years, two in Georgia and 11 in Maryland, to find well-paying computer programming jobs. Then, he found a good job in Downtown Pittsburgh and moved back to Donora, where he still lives.

 Sports have always been a fixture in Mark’s life. He played as a kid, found recreational games to play when he lived out of state and still gathers with guys to shoot hoops today. He played against some of these men as children decades ago. From living and running the museum in Donora for so many years, Mark has also become friendly with many people.

 “As you get older, which you’re not, but for me, that is interesting,” Mark said, “that you’ve known these people for 40 or 50 years, and they still talk to you.”

 At one point, as Mark and I walked around Donora and chatted, a woman in a car passed by, waving to him. He smiled and told me that’s his cousin. I later mentioned that that seems like a Mon Valley kind of thing – constantly running into people you know around home.

 I asked Mark to take a stab at the question. What makes a Mon Valley person? He told me the question “can go both ways.” Many Mon Valley people are drawn to the area simply because it’s where they grew up, where they learned traditions and where their families still are. Mark himself lived in some nice areas but still ultimately returned to Donora for these reasons. My family moved to Carroll Township when I was in middle school, and a few years ago my wife and I moved to South Park, perhaps not quite the Mon Valley but at least close-by.

The other defining quality of being a Mon Valley person that Mark came up with is a longing for days’ past. “People want change,” he said. “They want the old days back. And old days will never come back. We have to create new days.”

 Every time I visit Donora, I can’t resist driving past my childhood home. This time, I saw several notices on the front door. I parked my car, walked onto the porch and looked at the papers. These notices detailed information about sheriff’s sales for the house following foreclosure.

I got back in my car and drove up the street to Grandma Eleanor’s house, where she’s lived all my life. I always drive past her house as well, but this time, I decided to step inside and surprise her with a visit. Her face lit up when she saw me. After we talked, I told her I had to go home and get back to work. She said “oh boy” in almost more of a sigh than actually voicing the two words.

I greatly appreciate Mark agreeing to hang out with me for this piece. I thanked him and apologized for all the poking and prodding, and he said, “We would always help a Donora guy.”

- Matt Petras

Family Hardware Store Perseveres Through Changing Times

JULY 26, 2023

Members of the Schink family were busy with customers on a Tuesday afternoon at Schink’s Hardware Inc. in Duquesne, where tools and parts adorn every inch of space from the brick red carpeted floor to the very high white coffered ceiling.

Business comes in spurts. Gary Schink duplicated a key for a customer. The hum of the motor and squealing sound of the metal blank being cut drowned out some of the conversation. Jeff Schink assisted another customer shopping for small plumbing parts. A woman gathered products that she needed to purchase for a project, and Joan Schink got up from the steps near the register to wait on her.

The family-owned business, located on Grant Avenue for nearly 80 years, spans multiple generations and embodies the Mon Valley values of hard work, resilience, and commitment to the local community. Founder Paul Schink started Schink’s Hardware Inc. as an independent store in October 1945 after working as a bookkeeper at the former U.S. Steel Duquesne Works.

The store has remained in the same long rectangular red brick building, a former appliance store, since then, becoming a cornerstone of the community. An addition was added in 1997.

It’s a place where businesses and people from all around exchange stories, seek advice and find the materials to repair or update their homes. There’s a wide variety of merchandise, everything from “soup to nuts,” Joan said. It’s all carefully arranged and displayed on metal shelving and white pegboard for easy access.

The family is well known for figuring out what you need, and if they don't have it on the shelves, they will order it for you. When you walk into the store you are greeted warmly and directed to the product that you need; unlike the big box stores where you're left to endlessly wander. Long narrow aisles run from the front to the back of the store, and fluorescent lighting illuminates everything. Hand-drawn signs give an authentic feel.

Every bit of 2,700 square feet of space is utilized and well organized. The store is jam packed with tools, nuts, bolts, light bulbs, plumbing parts, lawn care products, plant seeds, candy, and paint. You can get keys made and screens repaired.

Gary, 82, and his wife Joan, 79, reside in West Mifflin. They work together along with their son Jeff, 58, of Dravosburg. Jeff’s brother-in-law Rob Seabol, 51, of Liberty, has worked there for the past three years. When asked how it was for them to work together all day every day as a family, Joan jokingly said, “We get sick of looking at each other.”

They work well together after all these years, but naturally want space when at the end of the workday. “At 5:30 I say ‘goodbye’ and I don’t want to see you till tomorrow.” Joan said with a laugh.

During the 77 years Schink’s has been open, nine to 10 other family members have been employed by the store. Jeff’s son Brendan worked there on school breaks and sold hot dogs out front. His hard work enabled him to graduate from college debt free, his father said.

 Over the years, customers become friends too.“We probably know 90 percent of the customers really well” and “maybe some of the women feel more comfortable with me,” Joan said. “Sometimes they're hesitant about what they need, and they come to me and then we chit chat for a while.

 “Because you get to know your customers really well, a lot of them will come just to talk when they don't even need to buy something.”

Customers have been appreciative of their kindness, knowledge, and help. The Schinks have been recipients of fruit bouquets, sandwiches, doughnuts, and a lot of coffee over the years. One grateful customer even created a sign for them that still hangs in the store from 2020.

They often go the extra mile in helping customers. Jeff recalled an older gentleman in his 80’s who, unable to drive, would place a big order for delivery and ask, “When you bring all the stuff over, stop and get me a bottle of whisky and two packs of cigarettes and I’ll pay you for everything.” They would get the whole order together and deliver it all.

Another aspect of their Mon Valley relevance is their generosity. They have donated to local churches, purchased Girl Scout cookies and numerous tickets benefitting local charities and events. They have supported West Mifflin’s youth baseball teams for many years. A billboard advertising the store has adorned the outfield fence since Jeff was a young player. A favorite charity is Jamie’s Dream Team, a non-profit organization that assists people who are injured, seriously ill or have experienced catastrophic events.

The Schinks have had their challenges; first and foremost, the mill shut down in 1984, leaving countless families facing uncertain futures and forcing other businesses to close. “If the customers didn't appreciate us, we wouldn't still be here”, Gary said. “We had to find our niche,” Jeff added.

When the mill was open, the line to their shop on payday went all the way down to 1st Street. Foot traffic declined as population fell following the mill closure from over 20,000 to around 5,000 today. “The money was there when the mill was there”, Gary said, reflecting.

Their store had to adapt to survive a second time when big box stores arrived, changing inventory and stocking items such as parts for older faucets that are no longer produced.

In the past, when the population was higher, Schenk’s sold small appliances and a lot of housewares, especially pots and pans. They once sold toys, bikes, Christmas lights and trees, even American Flyer trains. In the 1950s they had a toy catalog.

As of 2021, 28.3 percent of Duquesne families were living under the poverty level, and many likely don’t have the resources to buy items to beautify their home.

“We do our best to roll with the changes,” Jeff said. “We’re still here so we’re doing something right.”

Word of mouth and Facebook has been the best advertising for them. “Because we don’t have the Daily News anymore it’s harder for small businesses today advertising wise. We just don’t have printed papers anymore to advertise in,” Jeff said.

Despite the city of Duquesne being scarred from the mill closing, and losing population and businesses, Schink’s Hardware has continued to evolve and serve the Mon Valley. It has become a symbol of perseverance, and a witness to the spirit of the people that they serve. The shelves are full not just of tools and materials, but the hopes, dreams, and stories of a community that refuses to be defeated.

- Jennifer McCalla

Tube City Writers Live 2023

July 26, 2023

Tube City Writers hosted their fourth annual Tube City Writers Live at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport on July 20. This year nine writers representing multiple generations shared stories about ordinary people who exemplify the values and history of the Mon Valley. The Mon Valley Photography Collective also exhibited new work featuring McKeesport area landscapes.

The above video features highlights from the evening. It was filmed by Devin West, of The Forever Collective, and edited by Nicholas Konopka, a broadcasting production major at Point Park University.

Voices from the Valley:

Keith Murphy, Village Healer

July 25, 2023

Get ready for an eye-opening adventure as local teens in McKeesport Community Newsroom’s Summer Podcasting Camp sit down with the amazing Mr. Keith Murphy, a lifelong resident of McKeesport and the founder of Healthy Village. In this episode of Voices from the Valley, we delve into his captivating insights on the McKeesport community, how he tirelessly supports his neighbors, and dispels misconceptions about this vibrant area. Join us as we journey through Mr. Murphy's heartwarming tales, revealing the true essence of McKeesport beyond what you see on the news. This podcast was done in partnership with the Carnegie Library of McKeesport.

Audio Engineer: Elijah Robertson Walker

Producer: Sa'maree Williams

Visuals Producer: John Chopek

Producer and Interviewer: Mikey Wilson

Interviewer: Aniya Spruill-Lucas

Voices from the Valley:

Amber Webb, McKeesport's Future

July 25, 2023 

In this episode of Voices from the Valley, teens in McKeesport Community Newsroom’s Summer Podcasting Camp interview Amber Webb, a passionate resident who is running for city council in McKeesport. She discuss her vision for the city's future, including community engagement, youth empowerment, and improvements. The episode highlights the power of civic engagement and offers inspiration from Amber's leadership.

Audio Engineer: Isaiah Robertson Walker and Isaiah Johnson

Producer: Jurnee Murphy

Visuals Producer: Sarah Williams

Interviewers: Khalid Michael and Tre’Sean Gardner

McKeesport Library Celebrates Black History Month

February 23, 2023 

February is a special time of the year for many Americans because it is when we honor the many historical achievements made by Black people in our country.  During Black History Month (BHM), we learn about famous Blacks such as Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglas and Dr. Martin Luther King.  

The Carengie Library of McKeesport celebrated Black History Month (BHM) this past weekend.  Although they have hosted many BHM programs in the past, this one included a special Grandma’s Kitchen, a monthly event that showcases local chefs.

The event began with local author Denise Bailey reading her new book Grandma’s ABC’s of Growing Up to an attentive audience. The alphabet book covers topics important to child development beginning with letters from A to Z. It is a guide created to help children and adults to talk about life changing lessons, values and expectations.  A book signing followed her presentation.     

Dena Chottiner, a resident of Squirrel Hill and formerly of McKeesport, said “I still love this library and I try to support it both physically and financially.”  She said of Bailey, “She had a good captive audience with children to grandchildren.”  Chottiner felt the event was wonderful. She also thought the meal was tasty, and she especially loved the potato salad.

A traditional soul food supper was prepared by McKeesport resident and chef Vincent Wright.  His delectable menu included BBQ ribs made with his own special sauce, green beans with turkey neck meat and potato salad. Everyone loved his delicious meal prepared especially for Black History Month.

He is also a longtime friend of the library.  “The food was perfect, especially and ribs and sauce. My compliments to the chef” said Mary Rose Bendel, program coordinator for the library.

Kathleen Sherman, of Elizabeth Township, frequently attends special events at the library.  She is a member of the library’s Wise Walkers and the Book Clubs.  She had already read Bailey’s book and was impressed with her writing.  Ms. Sherman was also pleased their were children present for the reading.  “It was informative and comprehensible. It was a good lift.” she said.

As the music began to play, she recognized a George Benson song. Sherman loves jazz and said the song reminded her of Walt Harper’s Attic, a former Pittsburgh jazz club.

Attendees also enjoyed soft jazz notes played by electric guitarist, Rev. Willie J. Binion.  He has been a minister for 23 years and has been the pastor of The Power Thereof Christian Outreach Ministry for 20 years.  His church was originally in Duquesne, but when the building was sold in 2023, services went online.  Rev. Binion studied music under the late Harold Young and at one time had his own band, The Will Binion Jazz Trio. He has performed for previous BHM events at the library in the past because he believes in supporting the event and the greater McKeesport community.  

- Colette Funches

Voices From the Valley: Rev. Earlene Coleman

February 23, 2023 

Tube City Writer Colette Funches recently sat down with Rev. Earlene Coleman, of Bethlehem Baptist Church, for conversation about her faith journey, her unique congregation and her deep love of McKeesport for our Voices from the Valley Podcast. Please listen to this inspiring interview.

Christmas Memories From My Childhood

DECEMBER 7, 2022

Eyes wide open and giddy with anticipation of Santa’s arrival, I couldn’t fall asleep. Outside, snow steadily fell in the darkness, and as the screens on my bedroom windows rattled from rustling wind, I heard a loud bang. The sound seemed to come from the roof outside my window. As I jumped from bed and ran to look, a swirl of glistening snow billowed upwards into the sky as if a sleigh had just taken off from my roof. I was beyond thrilled. Santa, I was convinced, had come to our house in Duquesne.

I remember being too excited and nervous to immediately go downstairs and look, and don’t recall if I ever fell asleep. But decades later, I can see that magic moment in my mind and will aways remember the joy it gave me. It is one of many fond childhood memories of the Christmas mornings my parents made so special. On Christmas eve, I would put on my favorite silky blueish-green pajamas that were probably purchased from the Kmart or Hills department stores near Kennywood Park. They were so soothing and comfortable to wear.

A little after 4 a.m., my younger brother Paul and I would excitedly wake up our parents, not knowing how late they must have stayed up to prepare for Santa. They groggily informed us to go back to sleep for at least a few more hours. When it was time to rush downstairs to see what Santa had brought us, the Christmas tree lights were always on and carefully wrapped presents were waiting. One of us would run our Lionel trains that encircled the tree. If it was my brother, he was likely crashing them. We would endlessly couple and uncouple the freight cars. Loading and emptying the log cars with various found objects was great fun, until we got into trouble.

My father skillfully built the train set on a large platform which surrounded the tree and Nativity scene. He carefully poured green powdered grass and brown gravel for the lawns and dirt roads. Miniature people, cars, crosswalks and practically every animal known to man completed the scene.  It was all perfect in my eyes, just as spectacular as the miniature railroad display at the Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh.

Some gifts provided dual entertainment possibilities. One year, my brother’s bright red Hot Wheels race tracks gave us endless hours of fun. We launched the cars side by side and raced each other down the track and through a gravity-defying, upside-down loop. Eventually, one of us would quit a sore loser.

Then the tracks became whips that we would take apart and use as weapons to chase each other around the house. There was satisfaction in swinging hard and hearing the loud thwack on the skin when you landed a good hit.

Being the oldest grandchild had its disadvantages on Christmas eve, when we visited my Oma and Opa’s house in Aliquippa. Tradition held that the youngest grandchild opened gifts first. It felt like hours would go by before my turn came. And as the years went by and the number of grandchildren, aunts, uncles, and cousins grew, the wait time only got longer. It seemed so unfair then. I still struggle with patience to this day.

Oma always cooked a feast big enough to serve an army. My favorite part was the vast amount of cookies and baked goods Oma made, starting weeks in advance - pizzelles covered with powdered sugar, mini cheesecakes in shiny silver cupcake liners, and thick and yummy chocolate chip cookies.

We loved to visit my father’s parents, Gram and Pap Pap, in Duquesne. Pap Pap decorated the living and dining rooms with swoops of tinsel and colorful holiday balls hung from the suspended ceiling. We were entranced by a bubble light fence that Pap Pap placed on either side of the Christmas tree, framing it. The base of the bubble light would warm the liquid, and the liquid would bubble once hot enough. Sometimes we would stare at them hypnotized wishing for them to bubble, and there would occasionally be a loud pop when the bubbling started! My brother and I would pick sides in the hopes that our side would win. First side to have all the lights bubbling would win!

Dinner was served on folding TV trays at Gram and Pap Pap’s house. I would always consume nearly an entire jar of green olives, and entertain the family with my oddball habit of sticking an olive onto each fingertip. After my Pap Pap passed and it was just my Gram, we went to my Aunt Janice’s home for Christmas eve.  Gram would get a little tipsy on Kahlúa and cream and reminisce about her childhood and toys and things her father gave her for Christmas. Our sides would ache with laughter when Gram recited nursery rhymes and sang songs from her childhood. Teddy Bear, the jump rope rhyme was one of her favorites.

Now that I’m a parent, the excitement and anticipation of Christmas has taken on a new meaning. To see your own child preparing treats for Santa is the sweetest thing. My daughter Ashley also insisted on a carrot for each reindeer. Sometimes, she gave Santa regular milk, other times it was almond. He didn’t seem to be picky. On Christmas mornings my daughter would rather have us open our gifts from her first. She has either carefully made, or purchased something that she impatiently can’t wait to give us.

More importantly, I was proud to see my daughter learn it is just as important to give gifts as receive them. I cherish the funny children’s books she gave me. We always enjoy reading them together. In some ways, we never grow up.

– Jennifer McCalla 

Our Neighbor Mister Rogers

December 5, 2022

Many years ago, before a lot of us were even born, we had Mister Rogers. He was the most gracious man in all of history. I wish he was still alive today to help us in this world. He was kind and generous and talked about many feelings, some of them were serious. There was an episode on his TV show where he shared a pool with a policeman known as Officer Clemmons to promote the rights of those who felt they did not belong.

His spirit lives on in Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, it may not be the same, but it still talks about the same stuff.  The songs share the same advice as Mister Rogers did.

His sixth cousin Tom Hanks portrayed him in the movie A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. I tried my best to watch it, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried throughout the entire movie. I visit the Mister Rogers statute on the North Shore when I have spare time. Or before my volunteer shift at the Carnegie Science Center.  I cry when he sings the final song, Good Feeling. I even cried when I was writing this tribute.

If Mister Rogers was our neighbor in McKeesport, I believe that he would visit children, teens, and other community neighbors. I wish he was still alive to help us during these troubling times. I believe he is looking down from heaven and maybe he feels disappointed by what the world has turned into since his passing. I know this is not the world he would want us to live in. He would tell us to be good, kind and generous to others no matter what. Through good or bad times, we should be there for others because he always was there for people who needed his help when he was alive.

I believe if Mister Rogers was alive he would be making the world a better place.  He appeared on many TV shows, especially kid shows such as Arthur the Aardvark, Sesame Street, and so many more. They made us feel special in our own way. I remember the time when Mister Rogers told Arthur when he was bullied, it did not matter what others thought of him. “Real friends don’t make other real friends feel bad about themselves.” he said.

I still think Mister Rogers would want us to talk about our feelings, instead of hiding them. He was always teaching us to talk about our problems. I feel that a lot of us have forgotten this. If we watched Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood episodes on YouTube, I believe we would be inspired to share what we learned from him with younger generations.

His song It’s You That I Like tells us to accept others just the way they are. I am glad in many of the episodes, he says directly to the camera “Just by being you” as if he was talking only to us. It made me feel that he accepted all of us, no matter how we look or if we are a different color or disabled. It didn’t really matter. We were all accepted by one man. May his legacy live on in our memories and in our hearts.

“It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive. It’s such happy feeling. You’re growing inside and when you wake ready to say I think I’ll make a snappy today. It’s good feeling. A very good feeling. The feeling you know that I’ll be back when the day is new. And I’ll have more ideas for you and you’ll have things to talk about. I will too”

God bless, Mister Rogers.
- Maria Palmer

  Voices from the Valley: Jim Miller and Jarrell Brackett of PWX PRO Wrestling

NOVEMBER 10, 2022

Right - Jim Miller, founder of PWX PRO Wrestling and S.A.V.E. (Sports, Arts and Video Education) at PWX Community Center in McKeesport.

Left - Jarrell Brackett wrestles as Coach Claymore Alexander and is leading their efforts to bring audio and video production education to McKeesport.

 Voices from the Valley: Ed Boyko

November 1, 2022

Ed Boyko, of Glassport, has had a rich life full of family, community and faith. Before retiring, he worked as steelworker, Catholic school teacher and a probation officer. Perhaps his most important contribution is his ongoing commitment to preserving Slovak culture in the Mon Valley. Tube City Writer Jayshree Ranka recently talked with him about how his heritage has shaped his life and continues to inspire him for this episode of Voices from the Valley.

A Visit to Lake Emilie Inspires Memories

SEPTEMBER 21 , 2022

When we were asked to think of a favorite spot or place that we like to go to or want to go to – I thought of the duck pond known as Lake Emile in McKeesport in Renzie Park. The park itself is a community treasure. It has a wading pool, baseball field, the McKeesport Heritage Center, and the Lions Bandshell.  It offers spots to picnic, summer concerts, a rose garden and festivals. I love going there, especially during the summer.

People come there to sit near the small pond. There are two highways that join and cross in front of the pond.  Older people stand with fishing rod in hand while waiting for fish to bite. Fathers and mothers walk along with their children or sit along the pond, enjoying the summer weather.

The whole area is filled with tall, green pine trees which drop pinecones to the ground.  I really should pick up a few of them and take them home to make a Christmas wreath. Several busy squirrels with bushy tails bounce up and down across the grass and a cool breeze touches your face.

If you drive up Eden Park Boulevard, pass the Fire Station and turn right and you will see it. Then make a left turn and drive slowly down a gravely road into the park area.  The pond sits in the middle of many trees which offer both shade and a breeze to cool you off in the summer.

As you are driving in, you will see a picnic shelter made of wood with wooden tables and benches to sit on.   I love them!  It takes me back to another place and time.  I’m sure that if I had lived, oh, say back in the late 1860s, I would have had a little log cabin. Or as my great-grandmother would have called it, a shanty. There would have been a pile of wood, just outside the door, that I would have used to heat the kettle at the fireplace made of stone.

Why I would have cooked up a beef and potato stew with cabbage which my farm hand husband would have helped an old farmer carved up. A hefty side of beef, come straight from a cow grazing on his farmland.  We would have lived a ways down from his farm.  We are still there. Breathin’ free, even though now my old aunties died years ago, working the land as slaves for no pay.

Now I jus sits lookin’ out my door, hear chickens  squauwkin’ up a storm, and lookin’ at the little pond. My husband, Jobah,  well , he be  walkin’  back slowly from the pond to our hand built shanty with his homemade fishin’ pole – no fish,  jus the thought of one.

Our old horse, Cotton Ball with his outstretched belly, would be beating the horseflies off his back with his tail.  Then I’d get up from my rockin’ chair, walk outside and say hello to my onliest neighbor,  a mama duck, we named Lady Quack-Quack, prettiest,  shiny brown feathers on her back,  you ever did see,  and her five baby ducklings, waddlin’ along for an evening walk.

This was just a fantasy, I guess, cause in real life it’s about time for me to be on my way.  Reality beckons me home, so I wave good-bye to the ducks sitting there in the grass near the pond. I make my way back to the car, climb in, and soon I’m driving back down the gravely road, back to the modern day, well-paved highways, a real fire station, city noise and lots of traffic. 

You know, it’s nice to know that visiting a pond and just sitting near it, can make you transcend time – even—if only for a little while.

  - Colette Funches

 McKeesport Residents Discuss Their Community at International Village

SEPTEMBER 15 , 2022

Renziehausen Park hosted the 62nd International Village, an annual festival that celebrates diverse ethnic cultures, from Aug. 8 through 10, despite the heavy gray clouds that lurked above. 

The event featured food from a variety of countries such as Austria, Lebanon, Taiwan, Croatia, Germany, Mexico, Egypt, Hungary and the Philippine. The event also had music and dancing representing a few of these countries. Wonderful aromas from the food floated through the air and lots of people walked about or waited in line to buy a delicious dish of food. The Rankin Junior Tamburitzans, a group of young men and women, delighted the audience on the Main Stage with Croatian Kolo dancing. 

Several people in attendance said they had a great time in interviews with the McKeesport Community Newsroom. The festival provides an opportunity for McKeesport residents to discuss life in their community. The individuals shared a variety of ideas for improving life in McKeesport. 

Michael Green attended International Village with his wife Kristy and sons Andrew and Noah. Kristy had tattoos of her children’s names on her arm. Green, a cook, said the family loves McKeesport and takes advantage of the parks and bike trails. They enjoyed the event. 

“I do like this here,” Green said. “It is different. Having the food here is fun.” 

Vicki Medved grew up and raised her children in McKeesport, but left in 2002. She now lives in Greenock, Pennsylvania. She still comes to McKeesport, doing activities like taking her grandchildren to the park. She believes eliminating business tax would improve McKeesport by bringing more businesses into the area. 

“There are no businesses anymore. I would like to see it developed again. I really would. There are a lot of things they do for the community. There are a lot of good things here. Everything is convenient,” she said.

Lisa Kelly, 60, was born and raised in McKeesport. She believes area children need access to recreation centers. She also said too many structural buildings were being torn down with no new businesses replacing them. She felt crime was high and that it can lead to violence and drugs. 

She remembered a downtown McKeesport where law-abiding citizens could go to the stores, theaters, restaurants and there were no abandoned houses. But all in all, she felt that the International Village Festival brings all the people together.  

A couple in their 20s, Tiffany Ford and Logan Walker, of McKeesport, first met at International Village in 2018 while she was working at the Mexico booth. Now that they are parents to 11-month old Lena they think about the future and hope to see a safer environment with more things for kids to do such as athletic activities. They liked the bounce house for kids and would like to see pony rides for kids next year.

Nick Morakis, of McKeesport, told me he was single. He is a rather dashing 84-year-old man who occasionally has a glass of Ouzo, a Greek liquor. 

“It keeps you young," he said. 

Morakis has been an International Village volunteer for 15 years at the Greek food booth, which is sponsored by the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church. Having lived in McKeesport for 84 years, he remembered the softball teams, lots of elementary schools and when people could go shopping downtown.

Morakis said he would like to see the city offer more jobs in electronics to young people looking for good careers. 

“McKeesport was a lively city,” Morakis said. “Then the steel mills closed and there were lots of empty houses. There is still a closeness among the people, but they are getting old." 

At the Tube City Online booth, they did a livestream for online viewers.

Mayor Michael Cherepko appeared to help celebrate International Village's 62nd Anniversary. He told the McKeesport Community Newsroom that the weather was beautiful. While it didn’t rain on Monday, the fireworks were delayed to Wednesday out of caution concerning the weather. Overall, he loved this year’s festival.  

"It was absolutely wonderful,” Cherepko said.

- Colette Funches

Additional reporting by Anna Lisa Haughwout

 Tube City Writers Live 2022

SEPTEMBER 15, 2022

I’m fascinated at how full-circle life can be sometimes.

My grandfather grew up in McKeesport, and my dad grew up in Glassport. My dad often mentions studying at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport during his high school, college and law school years.

Fast forward more than three decades, I found myself at that same library documenting this year's Tube City Writers Live, a celebration of Mon Valley storytelling. Seeing a lively writing and photography community come together, in a place that means so much to so many, is something I will always carry with me.

I’m grateful I had the opportunity to capture shared memories this summer. The following video is a collection of those moments that made for a special evening.

– Olivia Valyo / Liv For Media

 Memories of Donora

SEPTEMBER 13, 2022

Part One: Introduction

            I grew up in Donora, a post-industrial town most known for a 1948 smog disaster. It’s referenced in an episode of the Netflix show The Crown. That’s what I hear. I haven’t seen it. There’s a museum dedicated to Donora history in the town, and it’s no-joke called the Donora Smog Museum. 

            When I think of the locations that mattered most to me in Donora, I think of my house, my maternal grandparents’ house up the street, the big, orange and black Donora sign (which has since been replaced by a cleaner, more modern-looking orange and white sign), Donora Elementary Center, Our Lady of the Valley Church and the skating rink. 

The skating rink was the fun one. It was a fixture in my life from the age of four or five until I was a tween or young teenager. 

Parents often enrolled their preschoolers or kindergartners in morning activities there. For one game, we held a huge, multicolored canvas in a circle and whipped it up and down. For the other, which I remember better, we planted our butts on square-shaped plastic seats with wheels and crab-walked around playing sort-of-soccer with a big bouncy ball. 

In the evenings, the skating rink would go dark with multicolored lights, and kids and teens would actually skate. Most used the skates with chunky wheels in each corner, but the spiffy kids used the skates with a set of “blades,” a set of thinner wheels in a straight line. I never used the blades. I skated pretty slowly and fell a lot, but I had fun. I have a distinct memory of accidentally skating the wrong direction and getting politely corrected by an adult employee keeping watch. 

This was a popular spot for birthdays. I have another distinct memory, of being in third-grade at my friend Ryan’s birthday and hearing a random kid make fun of my blue Ocean City, Maryland ballcap. I told my friends about it, laughing, with a chip on my shoulder. Laughing off a rude comment from an older kid made me feel mature. 

I've been thinking more and more about Donora and of Carroll Township, a nearby town where my family moved when I was in sixth grade, and of other parts of the Mon Valley, a collection of towns along the Monongahela River by Pittsburgh, because I’m writing a novel that takes place in a fictionalized version of the Mon Valley, called the Meierton Valley, named after my wife’s maiden name. I often think about how it felt like there was nothing to do in the valley, but there was. I have distinct memories of things to do. Some of those things were dull, like the Sheetz runs and the trips to Walmart to simply walk around. But other things were fun, like laughing off an attempt at bullying at a skating rink in third grade.  

Part Two: Soccer

            When I was in kindergarten, I played soccer in Donora, and this one year period represented the first and last time I found myself on a sports team. I remember just six things from my entire time playing soccer: 

1. I kicked a ball from one side of the field to the other, aimed perfectly at the goal, and my dad put his hands on either side of his head and opened his mouth in excitement that his son may have scored by far the most amazing goal of the season, maybe in the team’s entire history, but by the time the ball made it to the goal, it lost so much speed that the goalie stopped it like a cheetah chasing a sloth. 

2. During practice, Sarah and I ran toward the ball, racing each other to be the first to kick it, and we slammed into each other’s noggins. 

3. Whenever I felt tired or hot, I’d run off to the side and say I needed a break, drinking a juice box until I felt like going back, and sometimes, I did this even when I didn’t feel particularly tired or hot. 

4. I had a #2 pencil with me in the car on the way to practice and admired just how perfectly sharp it was, fantasized writing with it, and my dad says, “are you gonna stab Caleb with that,” referring to the bully of the team, and then, perhaps getting a bit nervous, told me he was just joking. 

5. To entertain myself, sometimes I’d skip and jump around on the soccer field, during a game, and my grandmother, smiling, told me she was watching and saw me do “all sorts of stuff” on the field. 

6. “Do you want to do it one more year,” my mother said, “if you do one more year, you get a trophy,” and I said, “no, that’s okay.” 

Part Three: The Laundry Chute

            As a kid, the laundry chute in my paternal grandparents’ house just outside of Donora in Carroll Township fascinated me. 

            The simple fact that one could go to their master bedroom’s bathroom, open a little door and drop some clothing that one could then find downstairs in the laundry room blew my mind. This was magic. 

            I grew up with plentiful television shows and movies with houses that contained secret doors, hidden behind bookcases or triggered by the press of a secret button or simply integrated into walls that could be pushed to reveal an opening, as I’m sure everyone reading this did. This happens so often in media that I have to imagine this is a common fantasy for kids and kids-at-heart. 
            This laundry chute seemed to me to follow in the legacy of these secret passages. Of course, I fantasized that the chute was quite a bit bigger than its foot or two interior, large enough to transport a tall child, perhaps also outfitted with colorful plastic and bright lights and dramatic music, potentially one with a trip that went much deeper than the laundry room that took paths that zig-zagged and looped merely for the pure fun of it, maybe somewhat like the pole that takes Batman and Robin to the batcave. 

            This thrilled me so much that I still think about it more than a decade later, and it fills me with more excitement than leaving Pennsylvania does. I still get giddy thinking about that laundry chute in my grandfather’s house and feel nothing when I think about the various nick-nacks my grandparents collected from trips they took around the world. I could fantasize about exploring the streets of New York City (where I’ve never been) or the beaches of the Caribbean (where I’ve never been) or really just about anywhere outside the country (where I’ve never been), and I could probably get myself to feel something, but I wouldn’t feel as much as I would if I just thought about exploring that laundry chute. 

            Moving out of my parent’s house coincided with my family’s decision to sell my late grandfather’s house. We made a few trips to his house to find pieces of furniture and household appliances and pictures and mugs for my then-fiance and I to take to our new apartment. When we stepped into his bedroom, I told my mom about my love of the laundry chute. She seemed to vaguely remember it. We looked around in their bathroom and bedroom and could not find it. Had my grandparents gotten rid of it? Could we simply not find it? Had I simply imagined it the whole time? 

            My father informs me that they got rid of it. “I think when they remodeled the bathroom, the workers put new tile/flooring over that,” my father tells me in a text message. “cool 😎 that you remember that.”

- Matt Petras

Blue Dell Pool

September 9, 2022

When summer days become scorching hot, many families flock to their local swimming pools to keep cool. When I was a kid, our favorite pool was the Blue Dell Pool in North Huntingdon. The pool was built in 1929 and it was close to the size of a football field at 300 feet long and 100 feet wide. It held 1.5 million gallons of water and was owned by the Warren family.

In addition to the impressive pool, the Warrens owned a diner and a drive-in both adjacent to the pool. There were swing sets, and a baby pool had been added for the little kids behind the large swimming pool.

The pool had substantial locker rooms for men and women, along with a cafeteria. The cafeteria offered your typical fast-food items with red lamps to keep the food hot. First, you unfolded your cardboard box to hold your items, then you picked what you wanted to eat, and then slid your box along a metal rail until you got to the cashier. I fondly remember enjoying their triangle slices of pizza.

My brother Paul who is five years younger than me and who would have been in grade school at the time remembers the food from the cafeteria. “Cheeseburgers and hot dogs wrapped in thin silver paper, fries in a cup!” he said. He also remembered the tall blue turnstile that you had to pass through to exit the pool.

“I also remember the lifeguards having me sit down because I was jumping down the slides”, he laughed. Blue Dell is also where he caught his first glimpse of a woman’s breast as a young boy. We both laughed when he recalled this.

Neighbors and friends that I grew up with also went to Blue Dell Pool. It was only a 14-minute drive there from my childhood home. The pool was located off of Route 30, three miles east of McKeesport. It was exciting to be dropped off when we got older. Driven down the long gravel covered road, then handed some cash for admission and food. The freedom to enjoy a long day of swimming and eating without adult supervision. No one there to judge me for staring at the cute boys diving off the diving board.

The appearance of the pool has slightly changed over the years. When my family started going there in the 80s there was a large center island in the middle. People would wade out to the center with their towels to sunbathe. If you wanted one of those coveted spots, you had to watch and wait for someone to leave. There were slides on both sides, and one diving board in the deep end. I can still hear Rod Stewart’s hit Love Touch blasting through the sound system that surrounded the pool.

My parents had an inflatable raft shaped like a banana that was bigger than me. We had it for many years, and I loved that giant yellow monstrosity. We often took it with us to the pool along with our beloved and worn beach towels. I was always excited to bring the yellow banana raft because no one else had one like it, and most pools would not allow rafts.

One summer I summoned the courage to jump off the diving board, just like the older kids. Of course, I jumped and held my nose, but I did it! Shortly after this accomplishment, I advanced to doing cartwheels off the diving board, and then quickly reached up at the end of my cartwheel to hold my nose before plunging into the water. I was a good swimmer, yet I despised getting water up my nose because it burned like hell and then the water went down your throat. Immediately followed by violent coughing and everyone staring at you.

We frequently took my friends with us. One day my friend Kathy and her sister Margaret were with us. Margaret couldn’t swim, so I was trying to teach her. By all appearances I honestly thought she was swimming, she was moving her arms and legs the way that I had shown her. Mere seconds later when she regained her balance, she said that she was in fact drowning. I was pretty young so how did I know? It looked like swimming to me. Her head was above the water. At least her sister Kathy still credits me for teaching her how to swim.

The only bad memory I have of Blue Dell Pool was in its final days. The water was no longer clear and it had become the shade of a stagnant pond. You could no longer see the bottom in the deep end. Not many people were going there anymore. My gift for continuing to go swimming there was a painful double ear infection.

I was heartbroken when the pool closed. Where was I and the other Mon Valley residents going to swim now? The splash park in McKeesport and Elizabeth weren’t even thought of yet. Sandcastle opened in 1989, but it was and is today too expensive for many families. White Oak has a pool, but it is also expensive. Their daily pass is $15 per person.

The only thing left of Blue Dell Pool is Blue Dell Lane which is now occupied by your average middle class homes. The drive-in theater was demolished, now Vangura Surfacing Products is there. The pool closed in 1989, and sometime in the 90s, it was filled in.

Change is hard, yet inevitable. Losing a unique place like this is distressing. It’s a place where I felt young and carefree and had the freedom to get away from my troubles. It was a place where you enjoyed hanging out with friends and family, I hoped one day to take my own child.

I never thought it would close, but it did.

– Jennifer McCalla

 The Laird of Tumbledown Manor

September 7, 2022

I am the third Laird of Tumbledown Manor. I am the third owner of our family’s palatial home set on our ancestral lands.

Perhaps I am exaggerating just a little bit. Most people would say I own a tiny rundown frame home on a dead end street in an old section of White Oak.

My late wife was a big fan of movies about the English upper class like The Remains of the Day or Upstairs Downstairs. The lords and ladies lived in homes with names like Darlington Hall or Downton Abbey. Kidding around, I christened our very, very humble abode, Tumbledown Manor and the name stuck.

Our home is located on land that has been in my wife’s family for over 200 years. We own a tiny sliver of the original farmstead inherited by my wife’s grandmother early in the 20th century. Her grandfather built our home in 1927 out of salvaged materials. Originally the house was heated by the wood fired kitchen stove and the plumbing was a cistern pump and an outhouse. In 1958, the borough water lines reached our hill and the family installed the “Pittsburgh” bathroom in the basement. We still use it today. Our home is very basic, in addition to having no formal bathroom, my home still has no built-in closets.

My in-laws bought the home in the 1960s for $100 and added on to the structure. My wife grew up with her grandparents, parents and two sisters living in the tiny house. We moved in the 1970s with our two kids and for the next three decades, another multigenerational family filled the Manor with life and laughter. My wife and I bought our home for a $1,000 in the early 1990s. I have always seen the house like another member of the family, its chest rising and falling as generations come and go.

My kids sometimes complained about our cramped surroundings. Their friends had much larger and more modern homes. Despite this fact, their friends always seemed to gravitate to our house. They said our home was more fun and I think they liked my mother-in-law’s fresh baked cookies.

My son is a successful attorney and my daughter is a well-respected counsellor. Both careers require good people skills which I think they acquired negotiating timely access to our single bathroom. When my son married his attorney wife, she used to show her friends our home on the county’s tax website to show his humble beginnings. Not quite Lincoln’s log cabin, but close enough for her.

Over the years I have seen my children grow up and move away to start their own families and found their own homes. I saw my wife’s parents grow old and pass away. Finally I saw my wife grow weak with cancer and slip away from me. I am now the lonely Laird of Tumbledown Manor.

Friends sometimes ask me how I feel about living alone in the old house. They don’t understand that I am not alone. First I still have my wife’s two annoying cats, Sheldon and Nutmeg. She made me promise to care for them. But I also share my home with layer upon layer of memories. I make my morning eggs in the same black cast iron skillet that my wife, her mother and her grandmother used. While I am eating those eggs I look out at the birds, the deer and the groundhogs through the big picture window my father-in-law and I put in so many years ago. I still sleep in the bed that my wife designed and I built.

I can still hear the echoes of long lost voices in every room. I can hear the laughter of my children around the kitchen table, my mother-in-law singing old songs and my father-in-law’s grumbling. I can hear Janis Joplin blasting on the stereo as my wife danced around with the vacuum cleaner. I can still smell my mother-in-law’s fresh baked cinnamon rolls, my wife’s homemade rye bread and my father-in-law’s Camel cigarettes. My father-in-law passed away in January of 2000 but this morning when I walked outside to get my morning paper, I saw one of the heavenly blue morning glories he planted blooming in my side yard.

I don’t sit by my phone waiting for Better Homes and Gardens to call to set up a photo spread of Tumbledown Manor. To tell the truth, my house is little better than a miner’s shack. It is showing its age and could use some serious remodeling. Still, there is nowhere I’d rather live. If I won the lottery tomorrow, I might put in central air, but I wouldn’t move. I’ve come to realize that while Tumbledown Manor isn’t much of a house, it has always been a wonderful home. Even more important, to me at least, it is my home, it is where I and my treasured memories live.

At this point in my life I have but one ambition left, and I am in no hurry to realize it, I want to die in my own home, in the bed I shared with my wife. My kids think this is morbid but, I am a realist, I know I can’t go on forever. I can’t think of a better place to check out than in my own bed surrounded by the memories of my life and of the people I loved.

For me, Tumbledown Manor is that place.       

- Jim Busch

Good Neighbor Day

July 21, 2022

When the mercury starts inching above 80 degrees, it takes a lot to get me to venture very far from my air conditioner - I am not a fan of hot weather. Despite my love of air conditioning, I spent June 15, 2022 on the streets of McKeesport in the sweltering heat. By the end of the afternoon my clothes were soaked through with perspiration, but I had met some amazing folks. I am a volunteer reporter for the McKeesport Community Newsroom and was one of the people manning our booth at McKeesport’s Good Neighbor Day.

Our booth was a little different than the other booths along Fifth Avenue that day. Every other group was there to tell people about their enterprise and what they have to offer. The McKeesport Community Newsroom was there to listen to our neighbors and learn their stories. We invited people of all ages to write their thoughts on our oversized blackboard and encouraged them to talk about their lives when they stopped at our table.

Since it was Good Neighbor Day, we decided the best way to celebrate the day was to talk to our neighbors. Accompanied by a videographer and an audio technician, I spent several hours interviewing some of the people visiting or working at the event. I discovered that the people of McKeesport were happy to talk and proud of their home town. The following video includes some of these conversations and collects some of our memories of that very hot and very enjoyable day. 

- Jim Busch

West Mifflin Couple Balance Work and Life at Home

JUNE 30, 2022

Nick Majernik and Caitlin Lizik were still newlyweds when they began working from their West Mifflin home in 2020 during the early days of the pandemic. 

Lizik, age 34, is an inventory analyst for a retail clothing company and Majernik, age 34, is a program manager for a healthcare company. They share their home with their rescue dog, Penny.

Although they both attended West Mifflin Area High School, they did not begin to date until their early 20s when they were reconnected by a mutual friend while hanging out at Secrets Bar & Grill in West Mifflin. 

Majernik and Lizik realized that one of their favorite benefits of working from home together was how much more time they would have together.

“Now we are saving two-and-a-half hours every day by avoiding our commutes. We get to spend time together with one another, we get to spend time with the dog, we’re going for walks. We’re really just appreciating our time with one another.” Majernik said.

The cornerstone for them to thrive during the pandemic has been, “Even though we both work from home, we still have our own dedicated space. To be able to say I need to be able to take my conference call, I need to be able to do my own work, but then still try to have lunch together.” Majernik said.

“Caitlyn and the dog will still pop in for 20 minutes to take a break.” he added.

Although they wouldn’t have been able to maintain the harmony if they were in the same room together or even the same floor. They are both on conference calls all day, so hearing each other in the background would have been very distracting.

They are expecting their first child in August, so they realized they needed to be creative to retain their workspaces. Lizik now works in the attic and Majernik works in the spare bedroom. 

Their flexible work schedule allows both of them to stay home with the baby after her maternity leave and his paternity leave are over. Another benefit of working from home is neither of them will miss any of their child’s milestones

“We created a workspace in the dining room for Caitlyn, and I took the attic. We are now making the second bedroom the nursery, so we’re trying to get that room ready.” said Majernik.

Caitlyn’s new workspace has windows and is very soothing for her because there are a lot of plants. Nick’s office is now in the newly remodeled attic with all of his necessary equipment along with lots of space for Caitlyn and Penny to visit during breaks. 

They both mentioned the significant cost savings of working from home. Majernik’s parking lease was $295 a month to park in the city. They saved by not eating lunch out and not buying gas. All of this has improved their quality of life.

Majernik’s biggest takeaway from his experience was, “How much I don’t like commuting!” he said with enthusiasm. By saving so much time on commuting into the city, Majernik was able to earn his bachelor’s degree online. 

“I’m doing homework from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m. every day after work. I couldn’t even imagine being able to have the time and energy to be able to do some of that schoolwork in the evenings. Being able to maximize my personal life and my worklife now being able to work from home.” He said. 

“As I look forward, I think I’ll continue to work from home. I think that will change into a standard and a business norm for most companies to offer that to people.” Nick added.

Lizik said it’s important that their workspaces not be the same space where they relax. “Some people work in a bedroom and you don’t have that separation of this is where I sleep and this is where I work.” Lizik said.

“Because we’re not on top of each other, we still enjoy time together.” she added.

Both Majernik and Lizik are allowed to come into their corporate offices at anytime, but neither of them have been required to return. They will go in for a meeting if it is beneficial for their teams. Majernik’s employer has a ‘work from anywhere culture’ as long as you have a stable internet connection and you can log on to the network. Lizik mentioned that there are certain teams that are required by her employer to be in office, but her team is not. 

One of Lizik’s favorite takeaways from working from home during the pandemic was the ability to keep up with household chores and maintenance. “When we were working in the office, we had weekend chores that you have to get done or you get set back.” she said.

“If I forget to do laundry, now I can throw it in sometime during the workday and it’s not a big deal. If I forget to take meat out of the freezer, it’s ok. I can log in, then run downstairs to grab a cup of coffee.” she said.

“Managing the household together as a team.” she said is the advice she would give others who are struggling with remote work. “Lizik said, “I actually prefer to do laundry and he prefers to do the dishes, so it works out that way.” 

“You also have to like each other!” Lizik said with a laugh.

- Jennifer McCalla

. 

 Have a Beer

June 1, 2022

I am delighted to share with you a story about a man who spends much of his time doing something he really enjoys.  Selling beer!   

His name is Al. I am personally acquainted with his passion for good beer.  I, however, do not indulge!  So let’s begin.

Al is your regular guy type.  He is friendly and likes to help people. He enjoys what he does.  Al likes living in McKeesport which is not like New York City where he used to live. He said “Life here is not fast paced and it is quiet!”  I asked if he had different jobs coming from a large city like New York City?   “Yes”, I managed a laundromat for a large New York community.” he said. Al has been in McKeesport since 2017 and he works for a beer store on Walnut Street where he started out as a janitor and is now the store manager.

His duties are many.  He opens and closes the store, greets customers, and receives orders from different stores that want beer.  Al says there are two kinds of beers a store can order; one is domestic, and the other is international.

For those of you who are connoisseurs of beer, you know the difference!   However, if you do not, have no fear.

Al will tell you that domestic beers are brewed which means that it is made from hops.  A hop is a barley roasted flavor.  He said, “International beers are made in large vats. A fan inside spins around to stir the brew.  It can stir slowly for up to two to five hours, then it becomes a smooth aromatic flavor.”  Al believes that Budweiser is the most popular domestic beer, and  Wallerbrook is the choice for International beers.

Like for most people,  Al believes every day at work counts.  A day for him at the store entails doing inventory, waiting on customers, stocking shelves and ringing up sales on the register. He also makes sure the beers are correctly distributed and does general maintenance in the store.

“Plus my wife, Colette, helps me keep it all together by reminding me of something like ordering beer for a card party.” said Al.

 We know that the pandemic had a drastic effect on many cities, so I asked Al if the pandemic had affected the normal functions of the store.  Al said “The virus kept many people away.  We wore masks and lots of people did not come into the store.  We didn’t sell many beers, but before that we had lots of customers.”  Said Al.

He continued. “I hope this year will be a better for the customers and the store.”

- Colette Funches

  Mon Valley residents share how the pandemic changed their lives

May 10, 2022

Jennifer Edder, 48, earned her masters degree and powered through the pandemic. Dillon Kuhns, 18, missed out on a traditional high school experience. Desiree Bluett, 49, adapted to overcome new challenges.

Mon Valley residents recently marked the two year anniversary of when Covid-19 was declared a global pandemic. Residents remember March 2020 as a turbulent time when they were told to stay home and flatten the curve. 

During these past two years, the borough of West Mifflin had a population of over 19,834 people. The borough saw 4,810 infections, and 252 of those cases were hospitalized, according to Allegheny County’s COVID-19 geographic data. West Mifflin lost 35 residents to covid. The city of Duquesne had a population of around 4,543 with 1,214 infections and 115 of those were hospitalized. Duquesne lost 24 of its residents.

Jennifer Edder, of West Mifflin, was working as a pulmonary/transplant bedside nurse at the beginning of the pandemic. She had recently earned her Master’s degree in nursing informatics at Waynesburg University, because she wanted to explore other areas of nursing and transition away from being bedside. She left for case management because of her new degree, not because of Covid. She didn’t enjoy that position, so she has been working from home as a Utilization Review Nurse. Her new position is responsible for reviewing patient charts that ensure that each patient is admitted under the correct level of care.

She wanted to be a cosmetologist when she was younger, but her mother told her that she wouldn’t be able to support herself let alone a family if she chose that path. She went from college to college trying to figure out what she wanted to do, and decided she would pursue nursing to pay the bills.

The pandemic affected her home life more than it did her job. “For me it was the constant underlying fear that I would bring it home to them,” she said. 

Edder believes for her generation the biggest impact from the past two years of the pandemic are trust issues, PTSD from the trauma in the coming years, and mental health issues. 

“People our age will be more cognizant of their health because Covid scared those of us who might be carrying a little extra weight or engaging in unhealthy eating or activities like smoking or vaping. It might give some of us pause like I gotta clean up my act so if this ever comes around again I’m not as susceptible to it.” she said. 

Edders added, “Mental health is going to be a significant issue for our generation and younger going forward. The emphasis has to be on mental health treatment and have more money earmarked for that. The World War II generation and back they just did what they had to do, and they saw death a lot. In our day and age, we got a pill for everything and a cure for everything. To see this level of death was a shock to a lot of people.”

Edders is now a changed person.

“I’m more cautious, I feel like Covid came out of the blue. You think what's around the corner? What is gonna get us next time? This can’t be over over. I was truly scared and yet I tried to be reasonable about it. I was scared my kids would get sick and pass away or my husband or myself. Who is gonna take care of the kids? What are we gonna do if something happens to me? It was a very surreal time. One that I don’t think I’m likely to forget. Ever. Yet, you still had to carry on.”

Edder looks forward to having people over, and more family get-togethers.

 “I miss the connection,” she said. 

 West Mifflin High School senior Dillon Kuhns recently turned 18.  He was nearing the end of his sophomore year during the early days of the lockdown.  

“I think it really affected a lot of my generation and people I know mentally. It didn’t affect me as much, but I’ve seen people around me affected more.” he said. 

Kuhns didn't mind doing school remotely, and he credits his parents for helping him stay motivated. 

Students missed the rites of passage they normally experience during the school year, such as dances, sporting events and the routine of sitting in a classroom with their peers. Dillon prefers learning in person.  “Being in school with everybody, that’s a big thing”, he said “even at the height of the lockdown we couldn’t really go anywhere or do anything.” 

Kuhns stayed positive and upbeat throughout the pandemic. He is involved in an abundance of activities including: track, soccer, baseball, marching band, cross country and wrestling. He currently works part-time at Panda Express.

While other fellow students felt discouraged and frustrated during the lockdown, Kuhns looked at it more positively.  “As a whole, I feel it bonded us rather than took us apart because everybody was going through the same thing.” Kuhns said.

Dillon describes himself as outgoing and he was able to make new friends online. He did a lot of gaming to pass the time. While some of his peers felt isolated during this time, Dillon chose to use the experience to connect with others virtually. He is excited about graduating in May and is considering pursuing mechanical engineering at West Virginia University.

Longtime Duquesne resident Desiree Bluett pondered about the direction of her life during the pandemic. She works as a paraprofessional at the City of Duquesne’s School District. For her the pandemic had a lot of firsts in store. She experienced stores, restaurants and businesses closing down and working from home for the first time.

“Working from home was a challenge and trying to help the teacher keep the kids on task. I just started going out and eating at restaurants. We did a lot of takeout.” Bluett decided to go back to school recently to finish her Bachelor’s degree in elementary and special education. 

“I do homework all evening long,” she joked. 

The last two years have made Bluett more cautious when she is out in public spaces. She  frequently takes the necessary precautions to remain healthy such as handwashing, wearing her mask and using ample hand sanitizer. Desiree and her mother enjoy attending shows in the Cultural District in Downtown Pittsburgh. “We have tickets to all of the shows. We just went to see Hamilton and we sat up in the last row.  We don’t want to be around so many people, so we sit up high so we don’t have to worry.” she said. 

The long lockdown impacted her family life as well. “We had stopped the family get-togethers. The first time we got back together was last Easter. Thanksgiving and Christmas were pretty big.” She developed an appreciation for delivery services.

The only thing Bluett would have done differently was try to get vaccinated on her own and not wait for the Johnson and Johnson vaccine which was mandated for school district employees. 

 She is looking forward to her first trip in two years to attend her cousin's wedding in Miami which had been postponed because of the pandemic. Then more plans to travel throughout  the summer.

 “I’m a little leery about going to the airport. I haven’t been on a plane since this whole pandemic started. I will have a mask on,” she said, “probably two.” 

- Jennifer McCalla

 Voices from the Valley: Olafemi Mandley

FebRUARY 22, 2022

Tube City Writer Colette Funches, of McKeesport, recently interviewed chef Olafemi Mandley, of Duquesne, about how her upbringing shaped her love of cooking and about the impact soul food has on on our culture. Mandley will prepare a meal of fried chicken, black-eyed peas, rice and more during a Taste of Africa at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport on Friday, March 25 at 2 p.m. Seating is limited. Call the library at 412-672-0625 to reserve a spot.

 Voices from the Valley: Pastor Michael Stanton

January 20, 2021

Soon after Rev. Michael Stanton arrived last fall to lead the McKeesport Presbyterian Church, he sat down with Jessie Henry to talk about his journey to the ministry and about the important role the historic church has in serving the community. This is the second in series of interviews by Jessie Henry of faith leaders in the Mon Valley.

Voices from the Valley: Fruitcake Memories

December 14, 2021

For this Voices from the Valley episode, Jim Busch, of White Oak, recalls how his mother Frances spent many hours making fruitcakes at Christmas time for friends and neighbors.

Voices from the Valley: Father Terry O'Connor

December 14, 2021

In this Voices from the Valley epidsode, Jessie Henry, of McKeesport, interviewed Father Terry O’Connor about his priesthood journey, serving in the Mon Valley and his late father Mayor Bob O’Connor. This is the first in a series of interviews with faith leaders in the Mon Valley by Jessie Henry.

Women of Visions

December 9, 2021

On a recent Saturday afternoon I finally arrived at A Fair in the Park after a long bus ride into Pittsburgh (you know how it is with cars sometimes) The annual event is  sponsored by The Craftsmen’s Guild of Pittsburgh and is considered to be one of Pittsburgh’s best art festivals. It displays the work of by Guild’s members and other local artists.

After walking past 20 booths filled with crafts of all kinds,  I began to panic thinking that I would not find my own  group’s booth – Women  of  Visions. Our exhibitions exemplify the skill and beauty of the artwork created by Black women of the Pittsburgh area.  Our group is celebrating its 40th Anniversary this year.  In June, we held an exhibition at the Kelly Strayhorn Theater in East Liberty honoring  Magnificient  Motown.  It was an exciting event which displayed paintings, ceramics, sculpture, woodwork and so much more.

I first spoke with Christine Bethea, Director of Women in Visions.  I asked her how she got her  start in art and she said,  “I worked in art administration, creating events, almost like a curator. After being laid off, I  took a quilting class and since then I have been working as an artist for the last 30 years.” In addition top her mixed media work, she has managed an antique store, was a director of a Chamber of Commerce and a TV producer for KDKA.

She then spoke about our group.  “Women of Visions was founded  1981. We were inspired  by several artistic women of color who wanted an opportunity to show their work.  They formed their own collective assisted by Selma Burke.  WOV expanded to include women in sculpture, ceramics, photography, painting, quilting, weaving and salvage art (mixed media).  There are 26 members based in Pittsburgh.  WOV was one of 80 booths participating in the three day event sponsored by the Craftsmen Guild of Pittsburgh.”

Another member LaVerne Kemp took an elective class in fiber arts while in college and has been working as an artist for 34 years.  “I’m inspired by other artists use of color and texture or certain themes for shows.” she said. Art speaks to her, so she doesn’t necessarily look at the clouds, but turns material into something beautiful, “One ball of yarn and everything burst from them!” she said. LaVerne started out making due and had to finance her own work. She changes from one medium to the another depending on how she feels.  She also weaves and makes pillows and tries to create some inexpensive pieces for her customers.  LaVerne joined  WOV 40 years  ago.

Ruth Bedian is a quilter who learned to make quilts from her great grandmother.  She belonged to the first Black Quilters Group in Pittsburgh.  She was an art teacher for 34 years with Pittsburgh Public Schools and eventually retired and now is often quilting  She is a mother who switched from painting to quilting fabric because of toxic products when her children were young.

Ruth uses a theme of African mask imagery and masquerade. She understands the meaning of the masks, “It was the slaves who brought  their own African tradition and symbolism to art” she said. For the August Wilson Center’s Seat of Power exhibit, Ruth made a chair with African symbols to represent  her great grandmother and mother.  She said “my art portrays or conveys the soul of Black people.”

Altha Pittrell is a painter, welder and a blacksmith who creates her own designs.  She worked as an apprentice for three years to become welder. She even built an anvil in her garage.  In 1970, she was the only black woman welder who joined Local 151 Boilermakers and worked around fire.  Later she helped build the U.S. Steel Building.  She said, “the workers were given a test where they had to walk straight up the building on a 12-foot beam without a safety belt while carrying tools. The men and the women had to put on their uniforms in the same area to get an assignment, but no one looked at anyone.” she said. Later she and her sister were able to use a women’s bathroom, but it was really a job for men only. Altha eventually became the tool lady and distributed worker’s tools from a truck.

She later went to Carlow College to study sculpting and she received her M.A. degree in 2011 when she was 50 years old.  She became a therapeutic sculptor at age 61.  Her favorite art piece is a hand painted earthen clay sculpture dedicated to her mother called Mother.  Altha’s work was also exhibited at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts in 2015.

I have always loved art and joined WOV earlier this year.  I exhibited my first piece at the Kelly Strayhorn Theater for the WOV 40th Anniversary Celebration which honored Magnificient Motown. I used to belong to the McKeesport Art Group and although I became inactive,  I never gave up my love for art.  I use painting and fiber to create mix media artworks. I come to this field from a different sphere. I am also a singer with the Mon Yough Chorale and the Pittsburgh Concert Chorale and I have acted with the McKeesport Little Theater.  I also write!

My mixed media piece Dancing in the Streets is currently on display as part of the Women of Visions: Celebrating 40 Years at the Frick Fine Arts Building in Oakland. The exhibit is comprised of 50 artworks from WOV 22 members and remains on display until February 25, 2022.

All in all, both the Women of Visions and The Craftsmen’s Guild of Pittsburgh enjoyed a fun day.  Some of our artists sold an item or two, but we mostly enjoyed the people’s admiration of our artwork.

• Colette Funches

Voices from the Valley: Jennifer Vertullo

NOVEMBER 22, 2021

Tube City Writer Jennifer McCalla recently spoke with Jennifer Vertullo at Eat ‘n Park in McKeesport about the impact her journalism career had on her life. Vertullo now serves as an assistant to McKeesport Mayor Michael Cherepko.

 The Repairman

OCTOBER 19, 2021

Today was a bad day; my wife’s cat curled up in the bathtub and died. I’m not a “pet-parent” kind of person, but Nutmeg’s death hit me hard.

I lost my wife just over two months ago. Before she died, I promised Glenda that I would take care of her three cats. The veterinarian and everyone in my family tells me that Nutmeg’s demise was not my fault, apparently she had been ill for some time, but I still feel like a failure.

Nutmeg and her sister Jane were legacy cats. When Glenda’s mother died, she promised her mother that she would try to “rescue” the two feral cats who regularly showed up at our backdoor looking for a handout. Glenda successfully captured both cats and convinced them that being a pampered housecat had its perks. She gave those two cats the same wonderful care and love that I enjoyed for almost 50 years. Glenda kept her promise, I did not keep mine.

Nutmeg’s death almost pushed me over the edge. I have been a bit fragile since Glenda’s death. I miss my wife, my best friend, my lover. My kids and my friends try to keep me company but, I always feel completely and irretrievably alone. The house we shared for decades seems as empty as an abandoned factory.

Because I am a writer, I have been struggling to come up with a metaphor that describes exactly how I feel. This may be an impossible task, but I think I may have come close. In my mind I see a beautiful jigsaw puzzle. Together the interlocking pieces create a “picture perfect world,” an ideal world…except that the puzzle is missing one single piece. This missing piece leaves a gaping hole in the image. No matter how hard I try to ignore that one missing piece, my eyes are irresistibly drawn to it. It is only one piece missing out of a thousand piece puzzle but, like the mouth of a black hole, it devours all the light and beauty in the universe. Glenda was the heart shaped piece that held my world together.

In the past two months and seven days I’ve learned that there are three things that I am no good at: keeping house, cooking and grieving. I simply have no experience at being sad. I could handle anything if I had Glenda by my side, so this is all new to me. My instinct is to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and spend the rest of my life dreaming that I am not alone. Not a particularly productive coping strategy.

Today I fought the urge to close my eyes and try to sleep off my reality hangover. Instead of going to bed, I went to my shed. For most of my life, my workbench has been my happy place.

I am a natural tinkerer; repairing things brings me great satisfaction. I grew up in a hands-on blue collar world. My folks were self-reliant; my mother made her own clothes, baked her own bread, canned vegetables and made the world’s best elderberry jelly. My dad did his own carpentry and plumbing; he made his own garden and changed the oil in our car. This was not unusual. Everyone in our working class neighborhood also did these things. On a warm Saturday afternoon, half the cars on our street had their hoods up and a pair of legs sticking out from under the engine compartment.

Today I put on my brown canvas shop apron and forced myself to get to work. First I took a look at an old DVD player that tended to skip, discovered the lens was dirty and cleaned it. I hooked it up to a TV in my shop/studio so I could watch how-to painting videos. Next I used silicone sealant to fix the flapping sole of a pair of old walking shoes.

I then turned to a woodworking project. I had picked up a discarded portable easel and paint box. I wanted to give it to my great niece. She is 14 and becoming quite a painter. She had painted a lovely picture for my wife when she was ill, which made Glenda very happy.

First I glued several loose pieces of wood back in place. The bolt which allowed the easel to accommodate different size canvases would not tighten. Studying the problem I discovered that the wood had worn away where the bolt passed through the top of the box. I plugged the old hole and drilled a new one, making the box as good as new.

Returning to my house, I spent an hour or so cleaning out the vents on my gas dryer where I found an amazing amount of lint. This not only made the machine run better but eliminated a fire hazard.

After completing this final task, I realized that I was quite hungry. Glancing at my watch I saw that it was 6:30 in the evening, I had spent the entire afternoon fixing things. For seven hours I did not have time to engage in self-pity. I never stop missing Glenda but, for a few hours I didn’t dwell on my loss.

Several elements of the repair process make it an ideal therapeutic tool. Repair work is essentially problem solving; I have to identify the problem and then come up with a way to correct it. This occupies the mind and demands that one be fully engaged in the work. Using tools and messing with electrical systems can be dangerous. In the workshop, mindfulness is not about meditation, it is a requirement if one wishes to keep all of their fingers. Spinning blades and sharp objects force one to concentrate on the work at hand.

At age 69, I’ve been repairing things for almost six decades but I’ve never found so much satisfaction in the work. These days I find myself living in a very broken world, nothing seems to work properly. I like to make things right. I am well aware that I cannot repair the gaping hole my wife’s death left in my life. I have no illusion about that, she is gone and there is no epoxy that can put my shattered soul back together. Somehow making these simple repairs helps me get through the day. They give me something to think about and give me a sense of purpose. I know I can’t fix the big things in my life but somehow making a few small things right helps.

Many years ago, I broke a toy and took it to my handyman grandfather. He quickly fixed it and when he gave it back to me, I remember him saying: “I can fix anything but a broken heart!” After all this time, I finally understand what he meant.

- Jim Busch

 Faces of McKeesport Photography Mural

October 2, 2021

The Faces of McKeesport photography mural is now on display McKeesport City Hall at 500 Fifth Avenue in McKeesport. The temporary mural is made of adhesive substrate and is comprised of portraits of residents of all ages and backgrounds captured over a two year period by area teenagers in the YouthCAST Leadership Network in colaborartion with McKeesport Community Newsroom and the City of McKeesport. Contributing YouthCAST photographers are Safiyah Allen-Crane, Tristan Banks, Calise Johnson, Lorenzo Lewis, Marcus Buckley Jr., Dahnayl Champine, Isaiah Johnson, Nya O’Neal and Anthony Solano.

The mural was unveiled Oct 2, 2021. You can watch the unveiling below and on KDKA News: https://pittsburgh.cbslocal.com/2021/10/02/mckeesport-artwork/

Voices from the Valley: Common Ground

September 23, 2021

On our second episode of Voices from the Valley Podcast, McKeesport residents Maria Palmer and Jesse Henry help raise autism awareness by sharing their struggles and triumphs as students and as citizens living on the spectrum in their hometown. This podcast was recorded at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport and was produced during our summer Voices from the Valley Podcasting Workshop led by Pittsburgh journalist and author Brittany Hailer.

 Tube City Writers Live 2021

AUGUST 18, 2021

Tube City Writers (TCW) held their second Tube City Writers Live at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport on June 17. The theme this year was who inspires you? Participating writers reading at the event were Colette Funches, of McKeesport, Ed Boyko, of Glassport, Jim Busch, of White Oak, Jennifer McCalla, of West Mifflin, Maria Palmer, of McKeesport, Tayler Cleveland, of McKeesport and Nya O’Neal, of West Mifflin. An enthusiastic audience was on hand to hear their stories about a wide range of Mon Valley residents who have made a difference in their communities. The Mon Valley Photography Collective also displayed recent work from photography outings around the region. You can still view their photographs at the library.

Here are some of the moments that made for a memorable evening.

Photographed by Nick Childers. Edited by Olivia Valyo.

   Nya’s Journey

August 16, 2021

McKeesport Area High School rising senior Nya O’Neal is our subject of the Making Movies on the Mon: Teen Filmmaking Workshop at the Carnegie Library of McKeesport. Local teenagers interviewed and filmed Nya at Marching Band Camp over the three day workshop in July. They also edited their clips and learned the importance of capturing high quality sound. Pittsburgh filmmaker and journalist Nick Childers led workshop. Nya chose to share her story because she wants future generations of students to know that they have the power to change the world. She is considering studying journalism at an HBCU next fall.

- Martha Rial

  Phyllis Garland, Trailblazing Journalist, Author and Educator

JULY 28, 2021

Everyone who has lived in McKeesport and the surrounding area for a long time knows that our city has a reputation. As an outsider looking in, it may be difficult to see all of the good that our city has to offer. But the good is evident all around us, especially throughout the community and its people. Phyllis Garland was no exception. Her family was well known for their artistry and entrepreneurship.

Unfortunately, she passed away in November 2006 from complications of cancer. She was a gem from McKeesport and she accomplished a lot in her time here. I first learned of Phyllis from my time as an actor at the McKeesport Regional History & Heritage Center’s Annual Living History Tour. My assignment was to portray her and tell her life story. The first time I read the script, I immediately learned that she was everything I want to be in this world. We shared many similarities from where we grew up, such as having the same alma mater and choosing the same career path of journalism.

Phyllis grew up in Christy Park as one of the only two African-American families who lived in the mostly Italian neighborhood. In fact ,she lived a few streets over from where I live now. Ms. JoAnne Rogers, a good family friend of Phyllis, said, “The most striking thing about Phyllis was that she couldn't write for the Red and Blue, but she became a journalist.” The Red and Blue is the student newspaper at the high school and due to the changes over the years, I became senior editor of the same paper that once rejected my hero.

Garland graduated from McKeesport Area Senior High School in 1953 and went on to attend Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. After her college graduation in 1957, she returned to McKeesport to work at the Pittsburgh Courier as an editor and reporter like her mother Hazel Garland. Her mother was the first African American journalist to write a regular television column, "Video Vignettes," which became one of the longest running television columns in the newspaper’s history.

Garland began working at the paper in 1963 in the midst of the civil rights movement. At the Courier she was assigned to cover many hot topics such as the March on Washington and a history series on African-Americans in the labor movement. She also wrote stories about housing, education and the arts. As her work became more and more popular, she earned a Golden Quill Award. Soon after she left the Courier for a position at Ebony Magazine. While working at Ebony, Ms. Garland covered many great stories including ones about the first African Americans elected to public office to a profile about Martin Luther King Jr. and his life’s work. She took her work very seriously, and even cut her hair to really capture the essence of a story she was working on about the “natural look”.

While working at Ebony, Phyllis grew close with many of the legendary jazz artists like Isaac Hayes. She was so fascinated with that music genre it became the topic of her first book, "The Sound of Soul: The Story of Black Music. In the late 1980s, PBS interviewed Ms. Garland for a documentary about the Black press and what role she thought it played in society. She said it was "never intended to be objective because it didn't see the white press being objective. It often took a position. It had an attitude. This was a press of advocacy. There was news, but the news had an admitted and deliberate slant."

In 1973, Garland began a new career as a college professor at Columbia University teaching a class about reporting on cultural affairs. She also was the founder and administrator of the National Arts Journalism Program. Phyllis was known to be very passionate about her work and she shared her enthusiasm with her students. She believed that the arts were an important and fundamental part of education. Ms. Garland loved jazz music and every year she would invite a class to her Eighth Avenue apartment in Greenwich Village for a listening party where she would share music from her jazz collection. When her friends and family from McKeesport would visit her in New York, they were amazed at her jazz record collection. JoAnne Rogers stated, “She had records from the floor to the ceiling”.

Phyllis Garland was the first African-American journalism faculty member to earn tenure at Columbia. The Graduate School of Journalism even changed its scholarship program in her honor to the Black Alumni Network/Phyllis Garland Scholarship Fund. She worked at Columbia for 30 years before retiring in 2004. She passed away in Brooklyn in 2006, but she was brought back to McKeesport for the funeral service at Bethlehem Baptist Church and burial near her parents in the McKeesport and Versailles Cemetery.

Phyllis Garland was an extremely impressive woman, who showed passion beyond belief. The world of journalism was lacking in representation, and she took it by storm, and continues to be an inspiration. As an African American woman who is also interested in journalism, it was an honor getting to know her story. The opportunity to share it means the world to me. Her legacy as a woman of many firsts will live on forever.

-  Tayler Cleveland

Karl Laurin, my friend and neighbor

JULY 26, 2021

Everyone should have a Karl Laurin in their lives. Someone who reminds us that life is full of possibilities, that just because there are lines painted on the edge of the road we don’t have to stay between them. Karl was a true American eccentric, a man who cared deeply about people but didn’t give a damn what people thought or said about him. Karl was a modern day Thoreau, a Whitman, a Van Gogh, a Kerouac, and most of all, Karl was my friend.

Karl’s family lived next door to my wife so she knew him since she was a little girl. Karl’s father was born in Sweden and had immigrated to the Mon Valley to take a job as a blacksmith at the National Tube Works. Karl Sr. was a stern man with a fondness for hard liquor. He tried to bend his wife and child to his will like he shaped steel on an anvil, by hammering them with his fists. To help her cope with this physical and mental abuse, the family doctor prescribed tranquilizers. When Karl was just 15, his mother died of an overdose.

Several years after Karl’s mother died, his father remarried. Frances, his new wife, was a tough mountain woman from Tennessee. Karl Sr. soon found his new wife was nothing like her predecessor. Early in the marriage, Frances held up her big cast iron frying pan and in her thick southern drawl, told him, “If ya’all ever take a notion to raise your hand to me, just remember, you gotta sleep sometime, but that don’t mean you’ll necessarily be able to git up again!” Frances proved to be a better mother to Karl than his biological mother ever had been. For the rest of his life, he referred to Frances as “my mom.”

Getting off to such a rocky start in life would make a lot of boys angry and belligerent, but not Karl. He grew into a shy, sensitive, intelligent and somewhat eccentric young man which rare qualities in gritty blue collar McKeesport. Throughout his life, Karl always fit in with his surroundings about as well as a Venetian Gondola on the Monongahela.

Karl had many interests. He loved nature, history and was a big fan of the beat poets. He especially loved jazz music. My wife and her sisters have treasured memories of sitting with Karl on the porch listening to his collection of jazz records on a portable Hi-Fi. My wife still enjoys jazz and credits Karl for introducing it to her.     

Karl’s first love was electronics. From an early age he would spend hours tinkering with old radios. After high school, he enrolled in Penn State earning a degree in electrical engineering. After graduation, Karl enlisted in the Air Force, so he could work with their advanced electronic equipment.

 After basic and technical training, Airman Laurin was assigned to an ICBM silo buried deep beneath the Kansas prairie. At the height of the Cold War these secret nuclear missile bases were situated all over the United States ready to launch at a second’s notice. Karl was working on an Atlas missile when an accident occurred flooding the silo with toxic chemicals and radiation.  

Karl spent several months in a military hospital before being given a medical discharge and a full military pension. For the rest of his life, Karl reported regularly to the VA hospital in Pittsburgh for treatment and blood transfusions. Before sending him home, an Air Force doctor advised Karl never to have children fearing that the substances he had been exposed to had altered his genes. There was a good chance that any children Karl fathered would suffer serious birth defects.

Karl returned home and moved back in with his father and stepmother. He took a job repairing televisions for Wander Sales, a local appliance store. In his free time he read, tinkered with old radios and rode his motorcycle. After his father passed away, Karl continued to live with his step mother Frances. She took care of him and he took care of her. They were as different from one another as any two people could possibly be, but they loved each other. Karl was a good son to Frances to the very end, nursing her through her final illness.

After Frances’s death, Karl settled in to the life of a confirmed bachelor. He ate most of his meals at local diners or fast food joints and let his hair grow long. For companionship, Karl joined a vintage radio club and was active in the McKeesport Art Group and the local history center. Karl was especially proud of the ribbon he won with his restored 1941 radio which he displayed with tiny palm trees in a Pearl Harbor tableau.

I met Karl when my wife and I moved into her childhood home. I took an instant liking to Karl and he became one of my best friends. Like a character out of some old sitcom, Karl was my quirky next door neighbor. We had thousands of interesting “over the fence” conversations. When I ran into Karl, my “to-do” list went out the window. Instead of weeding the garden or mowing the grass I simply enjoyed talking with my friend. Karl was a wonderful conversationalist and I learned something every time we talked.

Karl was a true eccentric. Some people affect eccentric behaviors to draw attention to themselves, but Karl was the genuine article. In over 40 years of friendship, I never knew Karl to say or do anything to impress anyone or to change their opinion of him. He was the least affected person I ever met, a kind of suburban Zen master. Karl did things because he felt like doing them in the moment. His solitary lifestyle allowed him to live life on his own terms regardless of what others thought.

People who didn’t know Karl might have thought he was a hobo who had just hopped off a northbound freight train. If a shirt was comfortable, he didn’t worry about a hole in a sleeve or a ripped pocket. A splash of paint was no reason to discard a pair of pants or a warm jacket. Karl also didn’t worry much about shaving and he cut his own hair. Perhaps because of his service related health problems, Karl’s skin had a sallow tone and a leathery texture. His teeth were crooked with a couple of noticeable gaps, yet he had a warm and friendly smile.

Karl’s laissez- faire approach to life extended to his home. After his stepmother passed away, Karl never applied a drop of paint to his house and only made repairs when absolutely necessary and then he did them in slap dash fashion. Over 20 years ago, a tree branch broke out a window pane in his living room. Karl taped a piece of sheet metal in the hole; it is still there today. One day I told Karl I saw a squirrel running in and out of his attic. Karl’s response was, “I know, but they don’t hurt anything and it’s warm in there for them.”

Over the years, I had many such conversations with Karl. On laundry days, he used to throw his clothes over a line in the backyard to dry. They often blew off the line and fell into the grass. To remedy the situation, I bought a package of clothespins and tried to give them to Karl. He refused the offer saying that picking his clothes up off the ground was good exercise. This make do approach was typical Karl. Once I noticed that the shift lever had broken on his old Honda, Karl clamped a pair of vice-grip pliers to the stub of the broken shifter to make the car drivable. When I asked him when it had broken, he thought for a second and said, “Oh, about two years ago.”

Some years back Karl declared his backyard a “meadow.” He stopped mowing it and let nature take its course, I suppose I could have filed a complaint with the borough but I didn’t have the heart. Karl would often call me over to see the latest “wildflower” blooming in his yard. Eventually his meadow began growing into a forest with bramble bushes and several large sumac trees.       

Karl moved through life at a slow, deliberate, tortoise-like pace. His body language and the rhythm of his speech made it clear that he was in no hurry. In four decades, I never saw him get excited or raise his voice. Karl was a natural wanderer, he loved exploring and took long walks and bike rides.

I never saw anyone riding a bike slower than Karl. It looked like he was pedaling in slow motion and it was a mystery to me how he managed to keep it upright. I used to see him miles away from our homes slowing rolling along. Karl was always tinkering with bikes, salvaging bits and pieces from cast off bikes to create odd looking “Frankencycles.” Just a week before he passed, Karl told me he was working on building an electric bicycle and would let me know when he finished it.

Despite his service related health issues and his questionable dietary choices, Karl remained relatively healthy until he approached his 80th birthday. Karl began experiencing leg pains and had trouble walking. He spent a few days at the VA hospital where the doctors found that he had developed heart and circulatory problems. One day I saw Karl hobbling down his sidewalk using a cane he had fashioned out of several short pieces of old gas pipe. His recycled cane was rusty and bore several shades of faded paint. It was a typical “Karl Laurin creation,” pure form follows function and absolutely unique. When I offered a cane that my mother-in-law had used; Karl thanked me but said, “This works just fine,” and went on his way.

A few weeks after this encounter, I stepped outside and was confronted with the unmistakable smell of death. I told my wife that a raccoon or a cat must have expired under one of our bushes. Returning from a trip to the grocery store I saw an ambulance and several police cars in front of Karl’s house. One of the officers told me, “The guy who lives in this house was found dead on the porch.” Immediately, I realized that the odor I had detected was my friend’s decaying body. Karl had died quietly sitting in an old lawn chair and listening to the radio on his back porch. The wisteria vines Karl let overtake his porch had hidden him from view. I must have walked within 15 feet of him several times that day without realizing what had happened. Given the state of his clothing and his home, the coroner naturally assumed Karl was “indigent.” Fortunately, the neighbors attracted by the commotion informed the official that he was a man of means saving him from a pauper’s grave.

A month after Karl’s passing, I had the honor of speaking at a remembrance of his life. One after another, people took the podium to talk about Karl’s kindness and generosity. No one spoke in the usual empty platitudes dusted off for these occasions. Every speaker recalled specific incidents where Karl had touched them deeply. One person talked about how this man who wouldn’t buy himself a new shirt, donated a thousand dollars every month to St Jude’s Hospital. A member of the McKeesport Art Group talked about how Karl would buy several paintings from young artists and then return the art to its creator saying he had nowhere to hang it. This was his way to help and encourage a struggling artist. Between humorous anecdotes of Karl’s quirkiness and eccentricities, were stories of him helping out someone in financial difficulties or doing some other good turn. I have been to a lot of funerals, but I have never heard so many heartfelt tributes to anyone than I did that day. Despite the quarantine and the fear of Covid-19, the funeral home was packed with people who simply needed to say goodbye to their good friend Karl.

For a solitary and humble man who lived a quiet life on a quiet dead end street, Karl Laurin touched a lot of lives. In many ways he was the most authentic man I have ever known. I lack the words to accurately describe what kind of a man my friend Karl was, so I will let one of his favorite authors, Jack Kerouac, from his autobiographic novel On the Road,  do it for me,

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars, and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”              

- Jim Busch

 Mary Rose Bendel

JULY 14, 2021

When Mary Rose Bendel was a student at Serra Catholic High School, the Carnegie Library of McKeesport needed someone to work part time and travel to their branches in Duquesne and White Oak. She was offered a position by former librarian Jo Ellen Kenney to work at the McKeesport Library.

She grew up in McKeesport and is the fifth child of a family of seven children. She played basketball, sang and performed as an actress in theatre. Her father Joe Bendel was mayor of McKeesport from 1995 to 1999.

Mary Rose also read a lot of books growing up and always enjoyed the Summer Reading Program at the library.  She also read many plays. Her favorite book is To Kill A Mockingbird, but she does not have a favorite author. Her most exciting childhood memory is when school was over for the day, she and her siblings ran ahead of the other children to take piano lessons. Mary Rose took piano lessons for eight years. All her siblings still live nearby.

Now after nine years of on the job at the McKeesport Library, Mary Rose is now the Adult Program and Outreach Coordinator.  On any given day, she collects books, provide helpful contacts for community services to patrons, plans programs and nice meals such as the lunch she made for the Mexican holiday, Cinco de Mayo, on May 5. She also coordinates computer classes for children and shares information about jobs at Career Link. The McKeesport Library also offers information on social programs, food banks, career services, LIHEAP, Rainbow Kitchen meals and computer classes.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar is a children’s book written by Eric Karl. Recently our Mary Rose was the hungry caterpillar in the Salute to Santa Parade in McKeesport.  She even made her own winged caterpillar costume. It was beautiful!

She said that she meets a variety of nice people, is around friendly staff, and that most people are even-tempered patrons.

Her birthday was last week on Friday – June 11, I asked if she was doing anything for her birthday, “no, just working”, she replied.  

A few years ago, Mary Rose had an idea to host a fashion show.  She asked people to bring in scarves, purses, and jewelry to wear.  She described what the models wore, because the clothes were connected to an outside service.  Eventually her idea became a permanent fashion shop at the library.

When I asked her what did she do when the libraries were closed because of COVID-19, she said “I just waited for the library to re-open.”  It’s not as busy as it was, but people are starting to come back.

Did you know that there are many kinds of library careers? Research librarian, children’s librarian, reference librarian, medical and business librarians.If you ask her if she thinks that library work would be a good career for a student to go into – she said it is not necessarily a lucrative field, but it is a good field to go into later on.  She says it involves community service and books, of course.

How does Mary Rose describe herself?  She said, “I care about things and people and their needs, I can be goofy and always enjoys a good laugh.

What brings a smile to her face? Neil! A sweet guy!   He is curious and helps out at the library where he hangs signs, shovels snow and gets along with everyone.

What does she dream of?   She dreams of having a cabin in the woods, a garden in which to fight off little ants around the lake.  When I asked Mary Rose what was the best thing about this city, she said, “The Library is the best thing about McKeesport.”

 -  Colette Funches

Editor’s Note: Mary Rose Bendel resigned from the library in July 2021.

 Harold Allen, Longtime Advocate for McKeesport's Youth

JULY 13, 2021

In many stories there are guardians who lead, protect and guide their people. In the case of Harold Allen this is not just a story, it is his life. After our sit down interview, I consider him a guardian.

I interviewed Mr. Allen last month. When I immediately began asking questions about his life, his reserved and normally quiet demeanor changed. He began to share his many years of wisdom with me. His life started in New Jersey and soon after his family moved to Clariton. He moved back and forth from Clairton to McKeesport where he ultimately stayed and graduated from the McKeesport Area School District.

During his childhood and teenage years, America was going through the civil rights era and many of the events that happened were deeply felt by the people. Mr. Allen described how he and the people around him reacted when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. He said that “everyone just started crying“, he was just in the sixth grade at the time. Growing up during this time heavily influenced his mindset and goals in his teen years.

In high school, he and a group of his peers protested for more representation and involvement of African-American teachers in the McKeesport Area School District. This brought light to an overlooked situation and forced the superintendent at the time, Harry Faulk, to take action and bring in more African-American faculty members. This was a great achievement that greatly impacted the black community within Mckeesport. He feels we shouldn’t have to be threatening towards the school district in order to get what we need.

Right after graduating high school he became a human relations liaison working with the children and creating desegregated transportation from Harrison Village to Francis McClure Elementary School. Mr. Allen continued to be involved in the community as an athlete to becoming a coach.  He coached little league baseball from 1976 to 1991 and The Little Tigers from 1991 to 2006. He also coached a team in Wilkinsburg and a teenage girls softball team. While coaching, he also worked with other groups such as the Black Political Empowerment Project, known as B-PEP, the Urban League, the McKeesport section of the NAACP, and later he co-founded YouthCAST with his son-in-law, Keino Fitzpatrick.

 Through all these programs he has been able to reach and mentor the younger generations that came after him. He compared this to the older generation that mentored him when he was a teen. They helped them to push for the change they wanted to see, while teaching them to fight for those changes in ways that would positively impact their cause, now many of his mentors are gone and as the years go by, Mr. Allen continues to search for younger people to pass the torch and carry on the movement.

He pointed out one of the main components of the movement is having youth replace our retired leaders. He stressed that we need more people of color in our community teaching, leading, and taking high positions to make sure that everyone’s needs are met. Other pieces to this movement is making sure that we make our voices heard through voting and keep building bridges with other communities

He has noticed some of the college level kids and a few of the high school kids are starting to become more serious about these issues, although it still concerns him that much of the younger generation seem uninterested in standing up to the plate and making these necessary changes to our communities. Allen pointed out that representation, voting, and leadership are only a few of the things that have been somewhat abandoned by younger people, but these are the things that are very interconnected in our lives. He knows in order to continue the momentum our predecessors started, we must continue the work they have done.

 But as he continues to search, teach and lead, the pandemic has been a trial for all of us. Mr. Allen experienced this firsthand. He described having the virus as an horrible experience, but after talking with him about it I knew that this man of God depended on his faith in the Lord to get him through. As we were about to end the interview, he told me about a time before he was born. A pastor that his family knew had come to their home and had prayed death off of him, he said after hearing that he believes prayers still work even after that person has already passed. 

 This experience of talking with and getting to know Mr. Harold has been an awesome one. I first met him through the YouthCAST program and I enjoyed his presence, he was and is always willing to help. Getting to know more about him and his beliefs have reminded me of some of the goals that I have forgotten about in the midst of all the chaos in our world. I really appreciate the work he does and I know with people like Mr. Harold, including me, will be able to grow and protect our community like guardians.

- Nya O’Neal 

  McKeesport's Angel

JUly 12, 2021

I met Terri Kisan after I graduated from McKeesport Area High School in 2011.

Her family has lived in McKeesport for a long time. Her father, Ted Skotnicki, graduated from McKeesport in 1934. She grew up in White Oak, then moved in McKeesport in the mid 80s. She and her three siblings attended McKeesport High School too. She graduated in 1979. She and her husband Dave have seven children. All her kids attended McKeesport High School too. Her youngest child, Brison, graduated on June 2.

Brison was featured on the Today Show last fall. Terri said, “I couldn’t even believe it, it was unbelievable”. She suspected early on that may be involved in some way, so she reached out and early on to the Assistant Superintendent Dr. Tia Wanzo and the school board president Joseph Lopretto. Terri asked, “Our kids need devices, what can we do?”

She suggested the school board get used or refurbished laptops. She felt the students were always getting second hand or used equipment, but it turned out that the school was working on something much bigger and better. “I had no idea that it was going to be big as it was” The McKeesport community helped create this big surprise. She had no idea that NBC was going to do a nice piece about our school district and feature her son. Brison will attend Penn State Greater Allegheny this fall.

When Mrs. Kisan was a young woman, the steel mills were closing and McKeesport’s population had shrunk to 31,000 residents. Now we have just over 19,000. She went to a trade school after graduating to learn how to be a dental assistant. Then she went on to attend CCAC. She was able to get her a job within nine months. Terri worked her way through college at Robert Morris University by working in dental offices as a dental assistant. As soon she graduated, she also got her real estate license.

I believe Terri Kisan is an amazing person. She has always been involved in the community such as PTA, school board and the organizations. I got to know her children, before I got to know her. I got to know her when I was invited to her daughter’s Kayla’s graduation party. I stayed in contact in her and I even remained in contact with her during the pandemic. I felt bad that her two youngest children who were still in school and unable to get their senior photos.

Mrs. Kisan is more than PTA mom. She believes it is important to not just go to college, but to also receive technical training and learn a trade. She bought an apartment building from a dentist and she rehabilitated it for low-income residents. She is always there for friends and her community. She also got her kids involved in helping and volunteering as they grew older. She raised her children with old time values and to appreciate where they come from, even though they are growing up and will soon leave home. She would not be surprised if they returned to the area so they can continue to help.

Mrs Kisan became involved with the Pittsburgh Dream Center for many years. The Dream Center provides food and other services for people in need. They also do Adopt a Block and help people who are homeless and provide education. They also do a mission trip every summer. At first, her kids did not want to participate, but they became more involved once they made friends at the organization. They were happy to be hanging out with their new friends every Saturday.

Mrs. Kisan said that donations are important if we want things to be better. The Dream Center is always looking for donations of supplies such as garbage bags, rakes and other tools things to clean up a big area of land. They always need cash donations. The Dream Center has food pantries at 17 sites around the Mon Valley as well as Pitcairn, Clairton, Monroeville, Turtle Creek, East McKeesport, North Versailles and many more. Mrs. Kisan said “There is a lot of good programs in place here and they can continue to grow. She has no intentions starting anything new at this time. “I’m not going to reinvent the wheel” she said. But she plans to remain a helper.

Mrs. Kisan is now busy supporting her husband Dave who has cancer. He is currently in chemotherapy. I have friends and family who have endured cancer too, so I can understand what she is going through. Although there are many types of cancer. There is still the common experience of treatment which I know is very hard.

I know she will keep volunteering in McKeesport until the time is right for her to move on. I call Mrs. Terri Kisan McKeesport’s Community Angel for what all she has done for this this town for over 33 years.

Thank You, Mrs. Terri Kisan.

- Maria Palmer

 A Good Day to be a Neighbor

JULY 8, 2021

Good Neighbor Day in McKeesport is annual event where Mayor Mike Cherepko invites everyone to come to 5th Avenue to share in a day of fun, food and free games. The gathering boast more than 40 non-profits, small businesses and vendors.

This was my first time attending Good Neighbor Day. So when my good friend Mrs. Martha Rial of Tube City Writers asked me to cover the event, I then asked our good friend, Mrs. Vicki Babyak, a photographer with the Mon Valley Photography Collective, to walk with me and take some pictures. I asked Miss Vicki what the event was all about and she said, “Good Neighbor Day tries to help small businesses and agencies promote what they have to offer to our neighborhoods.”

As we walked along, we saw many food vendors and lots of people walking around trying to decide on what kinds of foods to buy. I met a vendor named Mrs. Betty Jean McClirk who impressed me with her story about how she once had her own store in the Washington and Monroeville Malls. As a small business woman, she offered many items to her customers including crocheted blankets, perfume, jewelry, heating pads, stuffed animals. Plus for $2.00, you could pick five items.

She said “I always keep and sell beach balls for 50¢ for kids. When they come in and they don’t have a lot of money to buy anything.” Having been in the retail business for 35 years, she has even sold Christmas merchandise in the North Hills. Due to rising costs, she closed her stores and now sells her items at craft shows and street fairs.

Looking up and down the street, we saw the Ziebart Cars Corporation booth. Soon, we saw our fire trucks from the City of McKeesport Fire Department. Now what would Good Neighbor Day be without them? There were many different kinds of groups present. The Clariton Family Center was there with Jan Gooden, Tasha Langan, JaWanna Warren and Jamie Burger. They serve 40 to 50 families with a focus on community-based socialization and home visits to give assessments for children from birth to age five. They also provide housing and utilities assistance.

Auberle provides a free SNAP Program for kids and families. The program helps kids, ages 3 to 6 make good choices, whether in or out of a classroom. They also learn emotional management skills and the parents learn effective parenting skills.

When we stopped by the UPMC Magee-Women’s Hospital booth, we saw Nicole Travis, Director of Community Outreach, had many educational pamphlets on Women’s health a Pre-Natal Doula Program especially for Black women, the outpatient clinic and a childbirth delivery program which was during COVID-19, offers classes online for large groups. Carla DeJesus, a Dietician and Diabetes Educator for UPMC Hospital had several tips for good nutritious meals for people with diabetes.

Women for a Healthy Environment is a another program for families, said Germaine Patterson. She will come to your home to do an assessment to check for lead or mold problems.

Care to have your hair styled for the summer? Then you can go to Daneb’s House of Styles which opened in June 2021. Sheri Thomas’s beauty shop offers perms, relaxers, dreads, colors, cuts, and braiding for women as well as barber haircuts for men, haircuts for kids. They sell hair extensions.

King’s Table Community Church, now located on Walnut Street, run by Reverend Duane and his wife Susan Brown, offers church services and care for seniors and the disabled, as well as anyone else looking for help.

There was even something for kids at Good Neighbor Day. I saw three multi-colored choo-choo trains made from large cylinder cans which could carry three passengers down 5th Avenue, It even had a real conductor! The Bouncy Balloon Castle and slide had me wanting to go and jump up and down on it.

Mr. Keith Timmins, of Pony Time Ranch, traveled here from Ohio. They brought three ducks, a pony, some sheep, a large turkey with ‘feathers’ and one goat. Oh, make that two goats, the other one was eating the grass, and the cutest bunnies you did ever see were running around an little enclosed gate. The kids enjoyed petting all the animals. I didn’t get to count all of them!

If your kids are thinking about doing some summer reading, then don’t forget about the Carnegie Library of McKeesport. Yes! Miss Mary Rose was at the McKeesport Library Summer Reading booth. The program begins Monday, June 21. Students who accumulate 6 hours of reading time by the end of the program will receive prizes.

I went on to talk with Melissa Howard from The Blessing Board Furniture Ministry which is also located in McKeesport. The ministry has been around for 11 years. It’s first three years were in Oakmont. They have served over 140 families who are struggling with an addiction or loss of a home by providing them home goods and furniture. All you need to do is bring a truck with you.

Of course, we all know of or have heard of the McKeesport Lion’s Club. According to Mr. Chuck and Miss Linda, “Our club sponsors the Summer Concerts Series in Renzie Park at the Pavillion and oversees the Bike Trail. They also help the blind by seeking donations to buy glasses for anyone who needs them and assist with finding “seeing eye dogs”.

You would have to agree that with all of the great things that go on in McKeesport and Good Neighbor Day makes it a very special place.

– Colette Funches

 Steel Woman

A former Duquesne school teacher recalls lessons she learned as a steelworker

JUNE 30, 2021

Our First “Voices From the Valley” Podcast

June 3, 2021

This Voices from the Valley podcast was produced by teenagers from the Mon Valley at the McKeesport Community Newsroom, budding journalists who wanted to tell the story of real people in their neighborhood. The class started online then transitioned to in-person. Hosted by McKeesport Community Newsroom in partnership with Girls and Boys Club of Western Pennsylvania Career Works and Write Pittsburgh, the students showed up week after week at a time when the world around them was filled with uncertainty and Zoom fatigue.

The students learned the art of the interview in real time, walking to the nearby fire station and talking with the men who work to save the lives of McKeesport residents. The students listened back to the audio and noted key points in each interview and crafted a script to introduce each character. They collaborated and drafted this audio story, practiced slowing down and projecting their voices for a listening audience, and fact-checked what they learned from their sources. The students listened to audio stories and interviews from various podcasts and radio spots as examples. They met with Pittsburgh journalists like Brian Cook and Dannys Marrero during class, asking questions about the journalism profession and the art of interviewing.

What you’re hearing is group effort from a small community newsroom of young people willing to dedicate their time and skills during a time of unprecedented obstacles. They did this to uplift the stories of McKeesport firefighters. It was a pleasure to watch these students blossom over the course of the semester. Keep an eye out for these up and coming journalists in McKeesport.

– Brittany Hailer

 A Peek inside the Peoples Building

April 21, 2021

The city of McKeesport was founded in 1760 by John McKee. The McKeesport of old was an influential city which offered mills, lovely buildings, factories, churches, and elegant society tea parties. The 8th floor stirred up in me the thought of a bird in a gilded cage. The height of the building, eight floors, was considered very tall – the proper height for a building.

The bank opened in 1907, believed to have been built by the Masons fraternal organization. The marble Greek pillars that frame the building were made of marble sections stacked and cemented together.

As our tour group Tube City Writers and photographers entered this grand building, we did not know what awaited us. The glass encased roster still lists names of modern day companies that once had offices at the old Peoples building. Names such as Auberle, Allegheny Valley Employment Center and Urban League Satellite Office were there and the American Indian Center.

Bill Brown, the caretaker of the building since 1979, told us of the magical transformation of the building, built long ago, but still beautiful. Now, the city is planning for the building to be renovated for new office groups to lease at $3 per square foot. Each 3,000-square-foot floor being features a wonderful scenic view of all sides of the city of McKeesport.

On the ground floor, the former bank still has 30 teller stations made of 1930s marble and aluminum castings, which once boasted 6-foot glass partitions to serve customers. “The teller’s stations were lit with gas all day,” Brown said. “There were no electric lights. This is the reason that the bank hours were from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. The bank closed before it got dark outside. All of the marble floors of the eight story tall building were alike.”

Our first introduction to the building was the huge vault which was built in the 1930s. The massive door was nearly 100 years old. It was made in Germany and shipped here to this city. It took one year to build the door, and its width was 18” thick. It was hand forged. The vault itself had been upstairs, but was hoisted by a crane and dropped downstairs.

The door was beautifully crafted, made of bronze, brass, nickel, glass, chrome and stainless steel. “The bronze was acid etched,” said Jim Busch.  I tapped my finger against the door, and found it was very hard. The century old pins still moved slowly, so that if you were stuck inside after the door closed, you could still breathe. File and safe boxes that contained birth and death certificates were once here.

“It looks like a clock,” said tour member Jennifer McCalla.

“I love the etchings on the door,” said Martha Rial, project manager for the McKeesport Community Newsroom, another member of the tour.

I too loved its intricate beauty and mentioned that to the group — I could have stood there looking at it all day, while thinking back to the era when it was created.

All of the hallways and floors were made of marble. Wooden siding was on all of the doors and in every room – a true work of craftsmanship. We walked through a maze of rooms, both large and small, connecting the centuries.

The bank had been built in the early part of the century, and in later years, the building began to have new occupants. These offices came to the building around 1950. We learned that over the years there had been offices there that had been used by dentists and doctors.

Frosted glass windowpanes were still on the wooden office doors. The office hours were still stenciled on the doors – even the word “PRIVATE” was written on one in capital letters. Some of the smaller rooms had doors with ornate door handles.

The building allowed you to see a beautiful view of the entire city through opened office door windows, even as we walked through the hallways. As I looked out of a seventh floor window, I saw the black wrought iron city clock on Fifth Avenue, with Roman numerals on it, that was built in front of what once was the demolished Cox Department Store lot. The name “COX” is engraved in the pink and gray marble pavement near the sidewalk. The clock fits the old nostalgia of the building’s early 20th century period.

But the real tourist attraction was on the fourth floor, old style, dentist chair with a 1950s x-ray machine. It was still in the old unused, office and there was empty rack that once held free booklets about dental care on the wall. “Ding dong!” Did I press a doorbell that led into that office? Yes! There was a doorbell on the dentist’s office door.

As the other Tube City Writers and Mon Valley Photography Collective walked around taking photographs of wonderful things in the old building that caught their eye, our tour guide whisked the rest of us over to a doctor’s office. It may have been a psychiatrist who had a few mental patients because he left behind two brightly colored rooms. There was also a small “jail cell” with bars right there in his old office. So the fourth floor was where the professionals – dentists, doctors and lawyers had their offices in the 1950s. One office even had a nice old kitchen in it.

Around the 1970s and ‘80s other groups came to the building: The Urban League Satellite Office helped people get jobs. The Allegheny Employment Agency came there in 1969 and stayed for 10 years. Echo Star came in the 1990s and put in air conditioning. Before that, all of the offices opened windows for air. The Auberle Group formerly known as “Boys Town” held classes there from 2003 to 2009 for both boys and girls. They had even installed baby diaper changing station on the wall in one of the smaller rooms.

There was one other office that impressed me. A Native American Cherokee Indian woman, named Lydia Hale, who has since passed away, ran the Three Rivers Indian Center from 2000 to 2011. The center helped inmates and citizens find housing and food. Her group and the Catholic Charities sponsored the Lewis & Clark Bicentennial Commemoration at the McKeesport Point Marina in 2003.

McKeesport Housing once also had an office there at the old building, from late 1990 until 2000, when the office moved to a new location, leaving behind a brass candlelight chandelier in one of the old offices.

Eventually, the doctors and the lawyers to whom the building was given thought it was becoming too expensive to maintain. There was a dispute over a gas bill, so the professionals gave it to the city. The dispute continued between the owner of the historic building and the then-mayor. All leading to the building’s eventual closure.

Soon it was time to leave the old Peoples building. Brown, two photographers and I crowded into the elevator. We quickly arrived at the lobby, where we found everyone who had taken the tour saying goodbye to each other. I said my goodbyes to everyone also, and as I began to walk out of the door leaving behind an almost magical day for me, I noticed a “NO LOITERING” sign on the wall; since the tour was over, we didn’t, and everyone went home.

- Colette Funches

 Global Pandemic, Local Hero

MARCH 30, 2021

When the late actor Christopher Reeve described a hero as “an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles,” he could have been referring to Tom Vislay, a nurse in Jefferson Hospital’s High Level Telemetry Unit, even if Vislay wouldn’t call himself one.

Vislay’s department, also known as the step-down unit, was designated as Jefferson’s “Covid floor” when the disease first hit the area early last year. He has been in the thick of the fight against the pandemic since that time, and this prolonged battle has taken both an emotional and physical toll on him.

Originally from Emporium in Cameron County, Vislay, 49, now lives in Baldwin, just a few minutes’ drive from the hospital. He came to nursing late in life, but knew he wanted to find a career that afforded him the opportunity to be in service of others. He earned a bachelor’s degree in nursing from California University of Pennsylvania in 2018. Since then, Vislay has worked on the staff at Jefferson, but the pandemic has stretched his unit to almost the breaking point, where his days are far more chaotic and stressful now than ever before.

Because of the number of Covid cases, the hospital has expanded the step-down unit from 28 to 50 beds. Originally, the entire unit was located on the hospital’s fifth floor, but now it has expanded to include ten additional beds on the third floor, exacerbating department logistics.

While some people only need to worry about donning a mask running into the store for bread and milk, Vislay has to put on and take off his PPE hundreds of times each day during his 12-hour shifts. He is constantly changing his gown, masks, gloves and face shields as well as repeatedly washing his hands and disinfecting his work areas. He said making sure he is properly protected from the virus is not only stressful but also exhausting. Wearing PPE is also uncomfortable and hot, causing many health care professionals to develop skin irritations from the tight-fitting protective gear.

Vislay said he and his coworkers have to remember to stay hydrated during their shifts. The hospital is quite hot and the perspiration caused by their PPE can lead to severe dehydration, sapping their strength and depleting their already meager reserves of energy. Because of his high level of exposure to the coronavirus, Vislay has chosen to keep away from his friends. “I have no way to know if I am carrying the virus,” he said. “Just like my patients who are isolated in their hospital rooms, I keep myself isolated at home.”

Even though fatigue and stress can sometimes get the better of staff, he has nothing but praise for his coworkers. “We do what we can to help one another by limiting the number of times we have to enter a patient’s room,” he said. “We lose patience with one another, but for the most part we try to lift one another up.”

While some healthcare professionals may become desensitized to suffering and death — developing a shell that protects them from feeling the pain of their patients — Vislay still feels each loss deeply. After a year of losing patient after patient, his voice quivered when he recalled patients who have died, especially one particularly tough day at work.

An elderly married couple were both admitted to the hospital and were in rooms on separate floors. The husband took a turn for the worse and only had hours to live. Vislay helped the man hold his iPad, so he could talk to his wife one last time. “After being married for 50 years that’s the way he had to say goodbye to her,” Vislay said. “I had to repeat what they were saying to one another because they had a hard time hearing ... I had to tell her his last words, ‘I’ll see you in heaven.’”

The loneliness of the patients affects Vislay the most. “It rips your heart out to see people so isolated, to see them die alone day after day,” he said. The staff tries to comfort their patients, but their workload and the environment make this difficult. Vislay said the hospital wasn’t prepared to care for so many patients in isolation and only a few rooms were equipped with negative ventilation systems, which prevent the spread of airborne viruses like Covid-19. To remedy this, the hospital installed temporary ventilation systems, which are effective but extremely noisy. “The patients have trouble even hearing us or even the TV,” Vislay said. “With our masks on they can’t even read our lips.” This adds to patients’ stress and isolation.

He said it’s hard to describe how emotionally difficult the pandemic has been for him as a nurse. “You can talk about a case here and there, but this is a day-in-and-day-out thing,” he said. “You get to know these people really well and then they die on you, this has happened over and over and over. “It really plays on your emotions; it’s really hard on you. It is like losing a family member every week … or every day.”

Vislay said he was frustrated with people who have failed to take the coronavirus seriously, after all he has seen and been through. “Don’t take life for granted … don’t take this pandemic for granted,” he said. He stressed the importance of strictly adhering to Covid hygiene protocols. Due to the pandemic, he hasn’t seen his family in north-central Pennsylvania in over a year. Vislay said wearing a mask and careful handwashing are what has kept him from contracting the disease despite being exposed to it on a daily basis.

On a recent trip to the grocery store, Vislay encountered a fellow shopper who wasn’t wearing a mask. “How do you know the person standing next to you doesn’t have the coronavirus and could infect you?” he asked the maskless man. When the guy blew him off, Vislay continued, “I work in healthcare and I’ve been around 50 Covid patients this week and you never even knew it!” Vislay said he hoped the message got through to the shopper. “I wanted to give him a little food for thought,” Vislay said. “I mean how hard is it? Is it really that much of a sacrifice to cook at home and not go out to eat? We can all make a difference.”

Vislay’s advice to anyone new to the healthcare field is to be smart and take time to recharge while continuing to be genuine with patients.“Your heart has to be in it,” he said. “If your heart’s in it, you’ll go through anything to take care of your patients — that’s the bottom line.”

How does Vislay feel about being called a hero? “I don’t consider myself a hero,” he said. “I am doing what needs to be done. If we don’t take care of these people who will?”

- Jim Busch

 Tube City Tales: An Anthology

January 4, 2021

Thoughts on Life

November 30, 2020

I think about the past and how years have gone by in a lightning flash.

My children are grown with lives of their own.

I’m proud of who they are.

I don’t feel the same as I used to.

I’m getting older. Sometimes, I’m embarrassed of myself

for not wanting anymore struggles.

I wonder about the choices I have made.

Could I have done something different?

I forgive with my whole heart but realize at the same time,

It’s okay if I don’t forget the harm.

I have felt deep grief, humiliation, loneliness and fear.

I have felt love, strength and determination as well.

I have made mistakes like every other human.

I continue to learn lessons and make amends.

I work at not repeating unnecessary choices.

I believe it’s crucial to my spirit.

I’ve had plenty of hardship, but in the end

I realize how truly blessed I am.

- Vickie Babyak

A Closer Look at the War Within

September 21, 2020

I started writing Bitter Sweet: A Closer Look at the War Within because it was cathartic. All the memories that haunted me at night, the cringeworthy images that flashed before my eyes … to put that all on paper, I thought it would help me to let things go. At first, writing just made me relive everything over again. It made me feel those emotions as if I had felt them for the very first time.

Then I switched my perspective, and instead I focused on what I wanted to achieve with my story. I wanted to show people that I had been through some pretty messed-up situations, but I turned out okay. What I experienced was not a sunny day in paradise every day, but I still believe in happy endings.

The Covid-19 lockdown was the perfect time to work on this project because for once, the world was quiet. I did not have the luxury of working from home, so I got to see firsthand the fear and hopelessness in the community.

All I thought was, “After this is over, what can I say I did with myself other than gain 30 pounds?” My goal was to inspire others to share their stories. If we get the communication flowing, we will surely find some common ground to make this world a better place for everyone.

The feedback I have received so far has been very insightful. Many can relate to scenarios in the book, and others feel as though I am speaking directly to them. It has been very positive, and I was happy that the book made the Top 10 on Amazon three days in a row. So, if you have not already, grab a copy of “Bitter Sweet: A closer look at the war within” and let me know what you think.

An excerpt from Chapter 3:

“I get hurt in the field, déjà vu with the cast and all, and realize that these females I'm about to go to war with are amazing. Society will have you believe that women are usually cutthroat towards each other, can't work together, and always allow secrets, lies, and jealousy to destroy their friendship. However, this particular group of successful, career-minded young ladies defied those stereotypes. We cooked together, saved money together, prayed together. And when I was injured, they never let me feel alone or struggle for one minute. We got into trouble for just being friends. All of us had some personality traits that made the crew gel. Imagine that. Minority women bonded together, helping each other to succeed instead of trying to pull each other down. Wow, what a concept. So, while we were training, we came up with a name for our crew - The Mistresses.”

-  Labeehah Hall

Notes from YouthCAST’s Social Justice Writing Workshops

September 8, 2020

Over the summer, YouthCAST students worked with writing instructor Matt Petras and youth empowerment expert Nathaniel Brown to develop writing about social justice issues. These local middle and high school students wrote about a wide range of topics that emerged as meaningful to them as individuals.

The reason why I want to help get homeless people off the streets is because there are 567,715 homeless people in America. I don’t think there should be people on the streets because it would make them feel like they are not a part of society. It’s also not fair for the children who are out on the street to have to eat from the garbage. During winter, homeless people have to look for a place to stay warm, and they also can’t find a job because they would have no way of getting their way to their job or do not have the proper clothes for it. Sometimes they would have a hard time with other people.

 -  Jada Chapman

Why does it matter what shade of color you are? When I choose my friends, it's not because they are black or white. What should matter is if you are smart or kind. People come in all different shades of colors. They should be judged by their intelligence and not because they're different.

I never understood what discrimination was until we had to quarantine. I remember my mom talking about George Floyd getting killed. I felt scared, mad, and afraid. The first thing I did was go to the internet. I wanted to see for myself why my mom was so sad. I saw them kill him because he was black, and I’m black too. I imagined this happening to me. I wondered, if I was walking down the street, would the police kill me for being black?

In conclusion, I don’t know why people discriminate, but I can say it is ugly to have those feelings about people you don’t know. I don’t care if a person is yellow, all that matters is, are they a good friend to me and the people around them. If I am ever discriminated against I don’t know how I would handle it. It's a scary situation. If I speak up, will something happen to me?

-   Dahnayl Champine

I feel that social justice is good, and we should keep persevering to put it out there and allow for everyone to be equal no matter their race, political view, disability, or financial status. I feel no matter where you sit on the Earth you are just as equal as anyone. Even if you are at rock bottom financially, you could still skyrocket up as you can’t go down any further and can only go up. If you are in any way a minority and are being targeted, you should fight back and have a voice to tell everyone that you are equal to them even if you seem different to them.

 If you look into religion, there are people being killed for what they believe in all around the world. In places such as Pakistan and India, lots of religions are looked down upon and some people are killed. Just recently in India, five Christians have been killed in the span of two months, according to Vatican News. Also, 11 Christians are killed every day for their beliefs. If we would stop discriminating, that would lead to greatness in society. This applies to all minorities. People are killed for what they look like, stand for, and wealth.

 Also, women are treated very unfairly. Up until recently, women haven’t been able to do much work wise. Also, women weren’t allowed much until the late 1910’s. The first women were eventually allowed in 1917 to participate in the army and, 2 years later, vote. But, only in the late 1940’s were women permanently allowed to participate in combat.

 I asked my mother if being a female has affected her in equality. “No, I wouldn’t say so,” she said. “And I think that any man is equal to any woman. “But everyone is different and goes through different things. I just personally haven’t experienced that in my life.”

 However, she did speak to the unfairness women face. “Because women are women we do not have the opportunities a man can have, and I do not agree with it,” she said.

 -  Jack Whetsell

“As long as I trust in him, I know I’m in good hands,” she said. My grandma is a very religious woman who believes God is always the answer and with that I do not disagree. She also said religions must be respected and protected. 

Worldwide, 6.98% of wars are due to religion, according to the Encyclopedia of Wars. In fact, 16 to 31 million people have lost their lives in religious wars. Someone who loses their life due to religious beliefs or rejections are called martyrs. Even sadder, 90,000 Christians die a year. This does not even include all other religions.

Religion has caused a lot of bad things. But it has also caused a lot of good, too. Many different religious believers live in America and many are at peace. This shows that there is still hope for the world. There is hope for injustices to be stamped out regarding races, religions and beliefs, but, most of all, there is hope for humanity.

 -  Isaiah Johnson

The Strong Women Who Came Before Me

August 4, 2020

I am so lucky to have known and spent time with my grandparents and even one of my great grandmothers.  Mostly, I spent time with my two grandmothers because my first grandfather died of a heart attack on Valentine's Day when I was in high school. My other grandfather was killed when he walked out of a nursing home and started to walk toward his home. He had dementia and Alzheimers. When he left he said he was going to plant flowers and nobody stopped him. He was struck by a car driven by a girl I went to high school with.

When I was 44, my first grandmother passed away naturally at the ripe old age of 98-and-a-half. How lucky am I at this stage in my life to have had both grandmothers for so long when my friends are already losing their parents?

Helen, my Dad’s mother, frequently babysat us because my parents often worked double shifts; my father was a boilermaker at the U.S. Steel Duquesne Works, and my mom was a critical care nurse at Montefiore Hospital and later Jefferson Hospital before she retired.

I miss everyone getting together. My family always had holiday get-togethers at her house. My favorite traits of hers were her youthfulness and her willingness to always give you her undivided attention. Gram rarely complained, even up till the very end when she lost most of her sight and was extremely bored due to her physical limitations.

 When we were children she colored thousands of coloring books, played Chinese jump rope and jacks with us. She taught us how to play gin rummy, poker, and we often played Go Fish. My brother and I would perform shows for her in their cellar, hiding behind a plastic shower curtain between scenes filled with dancing and impersonations of wild animals. We played Mother May I and roller skated in her basement, always avoiding the Pittsburgh toilet. I don’t remember her ever getting bored, becoming annoyed or even yawning. Not even once. She always gave us her undivided attention.

She loved to watch ice skating on television, especially the Olympics. She knew the current dances and always cracked me up when she demonstrated them.  My grandparents never owned a car, so we used to walk everywhere with them when we were younger. The only thing that eventually slowed my gram down was the neuropathy in her legs and feet. Even an hysterectomy didn’t slow her down. After she was discharged from McKeesport Hospital, she walked three miles back to her home.

So, she would crawl around on all fours while chasing and playing with my daughter when she was little. She was very independent and lived in her own home until she was 97. I miss her dearly, and she left a big hole in my life that I can never seem to fill. I spent a lot of time with her, but I still wish I had more. Selfishly, I wanted her to live to 100. Every time I drive past her house, I remember what great times we had together.

 We celebrated my other grandma’s 90th birthday just a few weeks ago. Johanna was born and raised in a village called Aalbeek which is in Limberg province of Holland.  She came over to the United States at the age of 17. She raised six children, her seventh child died soon after childbirth.  She made everything from scratch, including clothes. My Oma could even juggle. She is still fluent in Dutch, after all these years.

Every holiday dinner was a tremendous feast. I don’t know how she was able to cook for so many people. I get tired of cooking for three, let alone a crowd of 24.  She prepared a five-course meal every time we visited and you always went home with a loaf of banana bread. One year we baked her famous nut rolls with her. It was nothing for her to make dozens of cookies for every Christmas, every cousin’s wedding, every baby shower and every family reunion.

She would often tell me that she fell asleep with her Joy of Cooking cookbook. She bought me my own copy when I got married.  She quilted, crocheted, and made decorations for every season. She also made dolls for me that I still treasure. At my request, she made me black and gold leg-warmers with a matching scarf for my chihuahua because we are big Pittsburgh Penguins fans. She received her American citizenship after her husband died.

I am also grateful that my daughter Ashley has been able to spend time with her great-grandmothers. Ashley has learned about her European ancestors and how life was more challenging for women from previous generations.  I know they both treasured spending time with her too. You could see them light up inside when they get together. My grandmothers are truly amazing women who inspired me.

- JENNIFER MCCALLA

 The Show Must Go On

July 6, 2020

McKeesport was one of two communities in Allegheny County who held their annual fireworks display despite the pandemic. Members of the Mon Valley Photography Collective documented the colorful and thunderous spectacle. Here are a few of their favorites: 

Photograph by Jennifer McCalla

Photograph by Ashley McCalla

Photograph by Maria Palmer

 A Civil Saturday

June 25, 2020

The 70-year-old building once known as the Nabisco factory is now an office building on Bakery Square. Although it no longer makes Ritz crackers for anyone, it is still a useful building. Its grounds were especially needed today. A crowd of people gathered in 80-degree weather with the sun shining and the sky above was bright blue with fluffy clouds. Clearly a day for celebrating something – and we were in a way. We were remembering a black man named George Floyd who had been slain two weeks before.

 Men, women and few children, white and Black, wore shorts, t-shirts, tennis shoes and masks. This was my first march, but it was more like a sit-in or a mini march. We were friends, colleagues, students, bicyclists, both old, young and middle years.

 The march was being held in East Liberty, once a predominately Black neighborhood. As people left  "East Lib", it became  more of a business district with lots of shops, colorful stores, and beautiful colored lights on the buildings at night. Even the Black grandmothers who cooked and cleaned remember walking along its hot pavement in the summer.

 When we the marchers first walked into the large parking lot area, we saw a small crowd standing and listening to the first chanter, saying "Black Lives Matter - Here!". My friends and I moved forward slowly. I saw free water and pizza on the side tables. I started to have some, but I had already eaten lunch. More chants from the crowd were heard "No Justice, No Peace". And, yes, there was a police motorcade riding by just to ensure the peace.

We walked past tall, modern glass buildings. Those long brownish yellow boards were awaiting a need to be nailed and put over store doors and broken windows, if any. But was it because of a slow economy, few sales or because of fear of an angry outburst from the crowd? There had been stories of rioting and looting in other cities.  Yet, this crowd gathered peacefully.

If we spoke of peace, then there would be no angry outbursts. It was a reminder of the old Civil Rights marches when we sang We Shall Overcome in the 1960's. Today they chanted "No Peace, No Police!” The mystery word was police. I could not tell at first which of the two words they were saying. So, we began to unravel why we were here.

In Minneapolis, MN, a black man named George Floyd was killed by a policeman during an arrest over a fake $20 bill on Memorial Day. It sparked an outpouring of marches across the nation. Fifty years ago, Blacks and whites marched together against racism and racial discrimination. Today I saw a white female holding a handwritten cardboard sign featuring a red, black and green flag. Black people still remember it.

Then Blacks and whites marched arms-locked-in-arms together. Today our white brothers and sisters proved they still care as they chanted "Black Lives Matter." Today we all proved that even amid a Covid-19 scare that we don't forget because justice and peace beckon us.

But Black men where were more of you? I'm sure George Floyd would have wanted to know. And Black women, where were you? Please give me a reasonable excuse! Thank you!

 It seems that a lot of Black people were curiously missing today. Never let it be said by our people that our white brethren and sisters do not care because Pittsburgh does! Black lives do matter to them.

I nearly cried! As everyone walked on, we finally reached our destination for the sit-in spot. I saw handwritten cardboard signs which gave messages of peace, hope, and caring. Those are the things of humanity. I saw a “I can’t breathe” sign which is also a saying of the Coronavirus epidemic. As we all sat on the grass in the open air, every person had on a mask which covered their mouths and noses. The water station women wore blue gloves and passed out bottles of water to  thirsty protestors.

There was a moment of silence. There were speakers who spoke about the whole sad occurrence. One woman said she had never been a victim of violence. Then a chant went up "Hands Up, Don’t Shoot”.

The brethren of Blacks and whites chanted against racism. I feel that bad things can happen - but time moves forward. Most people do trust and rely on their police. We always think of them as getting the bad guys. We sleep a little better at night knowing and believing our streets are safe. We would never expect a serious or fatal encounter with the police.

The large crowd applauded the speakers. We could not see everything that was going on at the stage nor could we hear everything because a helicopter circled overhead. I saw a peace sign, reminiscent of the marches and protests of the 1960's. We still love peace. Other names of the slain appeared on cardboard signs: Breanna Taylor, Tony McDade, Ahmaud Arbery and Tamir Rice. There was more chanting.

If you remember hearing the Black and white people of the 1960’s marching and singing We Shall Overcome then hear the people today singing the Freedom Riders Song, you would be inspired again.

 What side are you on my people?"

What side are you on?

We will fight both day and night Until we get it right!

Black Lives Matter!

 When you think about it, all lives do. A parking sign's arrows are pointing left, right or go straight. Which way will we go? Police are necessary for law and order, and of course, people expect good treatment from them. Some signs said, "We Shut Them Down!" What we really we can do is say: "Let's sit down!" and "Let's talk!"

 I also saw a sign that said KING, the letters were written horizontally, a gentle reminder of non-violent marches. We have come a long way, Dr. Martin Luther King, your dreams took us far. We are sitting on the grass, on the ground, black and white people together, quietly waiting, listening, just like you wanted.

 And so George Floyd, even though you were unknown before that day, your passing has inspired many. You did not die in vain.

- Colette Funches

Colette Funches is a founding member of Tube City Writers. She lives in McKeesport and remembers the Civil Rights era. She is a substitute teacher for the Pittsburgh Public Schools and a dedicated volunteer for the Oasis Tutoring Program. Colette is also a member of the Mon Yough Choral of White Oak.

 A Sense of Kenywood Park

June 16, 2020

Journalists have the goal in narrative writing of taking readers, listeners and viewers to the setting of a news event.  One way to do that is by writing using the senses.  We took ourselves back to a favorite amusement park memory in this practice, just using one of the five -- see, touch, smell, hear or taste.  

- Helen Fallon

Smell

I parked my car, shut off the ignition and climbed out. Kennywood parking lot smelled strongly of hot asphalt and exhaust. I slowly started to walk down the hill towards the park, passing all the hot cars baking in the midday sun. Near the entrance, I presented my ticket at the turnstile to the teenage boy who reeked of Axe body spray or something similar. It was an assault on my senses. Ok, I excitedly think, I’m almost there.

Walking around the winding pathways leading down to the tunnel I started to notice the damp musty aroma. The tunnel is the last step before entering the park. It’s always cramped and stuffed with hot sweaty bodies. Once it was flooded with water when I was there. I exit the tunnel and step into the bright sunlight. I breathe in the scent of hot sugar. Right in front of me is the cotton candy booth, which is right in front of the Fudge store. I worked in that sweatbox from hell for a few months because no one else wanted that job. I came home daily with sugar in my hair, and in my lungs, although I still loved working at the park.

I think I will ride first, then eat later. Although I’m sure I won’t last an hour because I am always hungry.

I ride the Old Mill because it is the closest. It’s wet, dark, damp, and pretty humid inside. The familiar musty aroma fills my nostrils as I start moving further inside the ride. How many people have been on this over the years I wonder as I float along? How old is this ride? I don’t mind the spiders, but the ride is fairly creepy.

After I exit the ride and begin to walk towards the Jack Rabbit. Unfortunately, I walked through a cloud of smoke and groan in disgust. Great, that pungent nicotine is going to trigger a migraine later. Ah, the joys of being sensitive to things. I tried to hold my breath and not inhale too much of it, but it was too late. The single horrible whiff already went straight to my brain.

I make a beeline over to the Jack Rabbit. It was sweltering hot, and everyone was sweating under the sun. The body odor was easily detectable when you are sandwiched in between hundreds of people in line. A few people were eating in line to pass the time which was smart. The lines were moving slowly today. The park was packed.

A woman about ten places in front of me was enjoying some Potato Patch fries. The slight whiff of the fries had me drooling. and I decided that was where I was headed next.

I didn’t even make it an hour and I was already jonesing for some food!

- Jennifer McCalla

Taste

The park was hot that day, so I ordered a Coke from the concession stand. The park’s need to extract a full year’s profits from a season lasting only a few months meant that my Coke was ice and water with the barest hint of soda syrup. The concession stand Coke did not have the acid bite of its bottled cousins, but it was wet, cold and refreshing. 

My thirst quenched, I began to lust after a corn dog and Kennywood’s legendary Potato Patch fries. Making my way across the park, I joined the line that was longer than the queues leading to even the most popular rides. As I got closer to the window, the aroma of grease had my taste buds crying, “Are we there yet?” like 10-year-olds on a long car trip.

Once I placed my order, it took less than a minute to get my lunch. The rapidity of the service led me to wonder why the line was so long, but I knew the contents of the two rectangular paper trays in my hands were well worth the wait.

I made a quick stop at the condiment bar. Placing my corndog on top of my fries, I made room for a pool of Pittsburgh’s own Heinz Ketchup. I pumped the ketchup pump like I was blowing up a wading pool, until I had a supply to properly coat my corn dog and every single French fry.

Since I’m not a fan of mustard, I completed enhancing my repast with copious amounts of salt and pepper. Grabbing a handful of napkins, I set off in hope of finding an open table. I anticipated standing to eat my food, but the theme park gods smiled down on me and I found the Holy Grail, an actual table where I could sit down. It was even reasonably clean.

I swirled the tip of the corn dog in the pool of ketchup and took a big bite. I’m not sure that anything produced by the finest restaurant in Paris could produce a more delicious sensation in my mouth. The first bite of a corn dog is always the best. The first bite consists of the perfect proportions of corn breading, hot dog, grease and the vinegar tang of the ketchup. As my teeth sliced through the breading and reached the wiener’s skin, there was a satisfying “pop” and a burst of mouth pleasing steam. Pure junk food nirvana.

I savored that first bite and then moved on to the fries. I am a purest, so I believe cheese belongs on a cheeseburger, not on my fries. I order my fries as God intended them, dripping with grease, salty, flecked with pepper and begging for ketchup. My only regret was that I didn’t find any malt vinegar for my fries.

It is ironic that the British are the ones who have perfected the art of eating French fries. I used the first fries to stir the ketchup. Years ago, a coworker had taught me to add pepper to my ketchup, thus ensuring a more even distribution. After accomplishing this task, I lifted two of the long beauties to my mouth.

The explosion of flavor in my mouth made me happy to be alive and proud to be an American. It was that good. Potato Patch fries are the Lamborghini of the spud world. They are not crisp, and they are not limp. They just strike the perfect balance between the two extremes. They are deliciously greasy, but not soggy. They are firm on the outside but have a creamy baked potato texture inside. Add to this the spiced tomato richness of Mr. Heinz’s gift to the world, the primordially satisfying taste of salt, and the heat of the pepper and you have a feast worthy of Mt. Olympus or Valhalla.

I alternated between a bite of corn dog and a couple of fries. I considered returning to the line for another dog, as it soon became apparent that no matter how carefully I rationed my bites, the main course would be long gone before the last fry was swirled through the ketchup. I made a note for future visits to the park and resigned myself to my fate.

I slid the corn dog further and further up the stick until the last bite was consumed. As has been my habit since childhood, I nibbled the hard corn batter that forms at the bottom of the hotdog right off the stick, like a beaver snacking on a twig. Once my dog was gone, I focused my full attention on the remaining fries. Since I always overestimate the amount of ketchup, I had to fish the last few fries from the red pool remaining in the corner of the paper tray.

Once done I licked my lips, savoring the last vestiges of salt, pepper and ketchup left there. I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin and disposed of my trash. I have enjoyed many fine meals in some very fine restaurants, but few of them could ever come close to serving me a meal as satisfying and tasty as a Kennywood Corn Dog and Potato Patch fries!               

  - Jim Busch

Touch

As I enter Kennywood Park, I feel the rush to get on the rides although I have to work first. Even though I work in the shade and cool air, I am still cautious and use sunscreen, so I don’t get burned by the sun. I also make sure I put a mask over my face which can feel either loose or tight.  Luckily, I can adjust the straps.

I punched in my ID number to start my shift as I walk to the Parkside Café. I push a cart around while putting napkins in their holders on the tables. First, it was tables and now it is the chairs. I have a wet rag to wipe down the table and chairs. I handle the glass plates, the silverware and put all the garbage in a bag. Before my shift was over, I take the cart to the back and wash it off with a powerful hose feeling the wet of the water. Once again, I punch out.

If I have time to spare, I will walk around the park and enjoy it in normal clothing. As I get on a ride, I can feel the seat as I wait patiently for the ride to get started. I can feel the seatbelt strap for my safety. I can also feel the safety bars for protection on the rollercoaster.

On Noah’s Ark I can feel the squishy tongue as I enter the whale’s mouth. I can feel the floors moving as I enter the boat while touching the walls, just in case I lose my balance. In the funny mirrors, I see me watching me smiling and laughing.

The next thing is that I am going to have fun with the games. I will play toss ball. I can feel the plastic balls being ready to be tossed. I also have fun at the Fish Pond, as I hold the fishing rod, I am excited to get a prize.

I’m ready for some food. With silverware in my hand, I eat a salad and can feel the cold drink as I take a sip. I can also feel the Potato Patch fries, the fluffy cotton candy, the corndog stick and the powder from a funnel cake.

After eating, I am ready to watch a show on the main stage or on the Kennyville Stage. I can feel the hot sun beating down on me. After the show I am ready to go back to the rides, but I still felt my stomach was ready to settle. Luckily there are calm and steady rides.

The first ride I feel would be cool and calming is the Old Mill.  A calming boat ride is just the thing I need to stay cool and collected. After the Old Mill, I went on the Merry Go Round.  It is a step up for me to get on the animal. The seat was hard, but comfortable. As the ride started, I felt a nice breeze on my face. It felt nice after being in the heat.

I am excited for the 4-D Theater and I was curious to know which movie was playing. The last movie I saw there was Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer in the winter. I felt bubbles like it was snow. There was a bump in the back and water began sprinkling on me. It was great.

Since there is no movie being shown, I decided to go on the bumper cars for a little bit of fun and laughter. I even went on the auto race to cool off.  The seat was hot, but it was worth it. The last ride that I would enjoy that day is the Raging Rapids for a nice cool wet ride since I don’t do the Pittsburgh Plunge. I can feel the wet seat, the seatbelt around my waist and the ring to hold on for safety.

The water was cold and refreshing splashing and going all over me. It felt good. When I got off the ride I was soaked. but I knew that the sun would dry me off. The sun was setting I felt the colder temperatures coming and I knew it was time to go home.

I am ready for rides, games and fun at Kennywood Park. I’m ready, ready, READY.

- Maria Palmer

A Teaching Adventure, was It Divine Intervention?

May 8, 2020

I heard about a teaching position at St. Joseph's School in Port Vue. I had previously only taught Sunday School. The projected yearly salary was $4,000 or $400 a month.

I needed a job, and a responsible one at that, so in August 1968 I took a chance and applied. I had to do two interviews and I had no teaching experience. If I got hired, I had to enroll at Duquesne University for certification. Also, no health care of any kind was provided. I was told to take my vitamins and do push-ups daily. It was easy to get to school, even if I had to walk because I lived with my mother five miles away.

The two interviews were with the Pastor Francis Rieke and the school principal, Sister Judith. The job entailed teaching these subjects, English, U.S. history, science, math. The class had was equally divided between 15 girls and 15 boys for a total of 30 students. During third period I taught 6th grade social studies, while the nun came to my class to teach religion.

 Were they going to be angels or brats? All of them were in 3rd grade. Did they have grouchy parents? I did not know, but the other teachers cautioned me about that.

 The kids did not have to wear uniforms, but neat clothes. No jeans, but shorts were allowed on gym day. Gym class was always a game, usually co-ed volleyball or dodge ball in parish parking lot.

Employees, including three other lay teachers and five nuns, were provided a free lunch and free parking. We had to eat with the kids and spend time with them on the playground. I did get hired despite all these conditions for school employee conduct. The other teachers and a few nuns warned me that the intercom for each classroom had a microphone, so the principal could listen in on any teacher or classroom. It was like "Big Brother!", but this was more like "Big Sister!"

There was no Teachers’ lounge. This was the late 1960’s; there were no computers, no cell phones; no internet. Each Tuesday we had to go to 8 a.m. Mass with the kids. "We must set a good example for the kids." said Sister Judith.

 I met Mrs. Rizzo, the school nurse, who was provided by the local school district; She was there Mondays from 1 to 4 p.m. and Thursdays from 8:30 am to 12:30 p.m. She was my grandmother's age, and this was to be her last year working as a school nurse before retirement. She was pleasant, encouraging and helpful.

The first Parent Teacher meeting was held on last Tuesday of September. I felt a little nervous. I was more nervous about meeting the parents than the kids. Not all parents came to the meeting. Some parents had to work an evening shift while the significant other had to be home with the kids.

 One Tuesday morning during our day to attend church, a little girl blacked out and fell in between the pews. Her name was Janice. I rushed over and picked her up. There was a minor cut on her forehead, but a lot of blood. I carried her to the nurse's office. One of the nuns called the child's mother and she came to pick her up to go to their family doctor.

By chance, I saw Janice ten years later at a church picnic when she was a sophomore at Slippery Rock University majoring in education. The tiny scar was visible on her forehead. We laughed about it. I could never forget that incident.

 We had a letter grading system and I had to fill out report cards for all parents, even the grumpy ones. Another teacher reminded me, "You're not grading the parent, but the child's school progress or lack of progress.”

In the first week of December, I taught my third graders the Slovak Christmas carol Heaven and Earth and included the corresponding verses in English for the school Christmas program. The Pastor and the nuns were impressed. I also taught the kids how to play chess to help them develop critical thinking skills during rainy days at recess and after lunch. We would have up to four games between the kids going at the same time.

 During the winter of 1969, two or three different kids were absent every day due to colds, the flu, measles, chicken pox, or pink eye. A different ailment infected a different child daily, but I was the one who needed to be immune to everything. I had to send schoolwork home to the sick kids.

 During the first week of May with the help of parents, we arranged permission slips, received tickets and organized a five-car caravan to a Friday evening baseball game between the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Milwaukee Brewers baseball at Three Rivers Stadium.  We all enjoyed the game, and the Pirates won.

 After the ninth inning we lost a kid; Matthew was not with the others. We searched everywhere and police officers and stadium personnel helped us with our search. Three boys in our group said Matthew had gone into one of the men's restrooms with them, but they did not wait for him to come out.

 Back then no one had a cell phone. We ultimately found Matthew in a phone booth. He explained that he took a little longer in the men’s room than the other boys. When he came out and saw they had not waited for him, he noticed a phone booth and stayed in there. He realized that he was lost and had some change, so he called his mom. It was two policemen who found Matthew in the phone booth. He stayed in the booth until the two officers and I came by.  We finally got the kids home safely.

 The next morning, Matthew's mother called me and said she incredibly grateful for me finding her son. She had even called the Pastor to tell him what happened. In June, a couple of parents called to invite me to their older child’s graduation party. I made excuses because I could not favor one child over another. I said thanks, but I could not attend.

 It was a successful school year. All 30 students advanced to the next grade level. I received a dinner gift certificate in the mail from the Pastor for $50.00 for the Star Restaurant in McKeesport in addition to my monthly paycheck.

 My time at the school lasted five years. I received several raises, but I resigned when it was revealed the Pastor was closing the school at the end of the 1972-73 school year. I had no hope or political connections for a teaching position at another school, parochial or public. I finally ended up in National Tube Works as a laborer and earned double the pay I received at the school

— Edward M. Boyko

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Song of the Sparrow

March 18, 2020

Discovering nature in my backyard is relaxing for me. I can easily spend a couple hours in my yard or walking around our neighborhood with its turn- of-the-century homes and the Monongahela River flowing at the bottom of the hill. With my camera on my shoulder, I find pleasure in photographing mature trees, flowering plants, comical squirrels and woodchucks, as well as a variety of insects and native birds. I need patience to find something beautiful and capture the moment with a notable image.

Birds are my favorite subject to photograph. With their little antics, they invite me to watch them while giving me a sense of relief from my everyday worries. Birds are considered messengers from the spiritual world. They symbolize peace, transformation, freedom and power. I love the variety of species from their precise feather patterns to their wide range of colors from earth tones to cardinal red.

The most calming sound to me is their sweet chirping to the heavens. It fills me with a consciousness of peace.

- Vickie Babyak

Snowy Winter 

February 6, 2020

The time of the cold weather is my time. Either during Christmas when I can enjoy the baking of cookies, looking at lights or being around family. My other time is around the winter season just warming up by the fire at my sister’s place or cooling off when I get too hot in the house.

I ask for things that come in packages or bags during the Christmas season. There is one thing that I ask for that can be for Christmas season or just plain winter season and it can’t be in a package or a bag.

The one year that it didn’t come made me wish and beg for something year after year to make it feel like or look like Christmas or winter. I plead, wished and begged Mother Nature to make it look and feel like Christmas or winter.

A lot of people hate it, but I love it, because it’s real and not fake like that store-bought stuff. How I miss building a real snowman; there is a song called Frosty the Snowman: What is a snowman without snow?

How it was fun just to lie in snow and get covered as I made snow angels in the past. I even remember snowball fights and going down the hill in my little yellow snowsuit when I was a kid and as I was growing up. There were magical times too, when snow would cover lights and the lights would make that snow glow as if it was magic snow.

I always hoped I would see a couple of kids doing the same in the future, but I don’t see that anymore. When I go online, I see the northern states or Canada getting all that snow but not us. I get angry and grow jealous more and more, making me wish I had winter powers like Elsa or Jack Frost to bring back the winter weather. I miss it so very much and I feel that people have forgotten the magic of what snow can bring.

I feel that I’m the only person who remembers what snow was like and how much fun I had in it. Snow can bring out the best in people; help shovel snow for our family or neighbors when they need help. Passing out hot meals or giving clothing, blankets and coats to those that need warmth from the cold weather. People even got creative with snow and created snow sculptures, or even wrote one word or even wrote a small message in the snow.

I’m the only person who wants to outside when it snows to catch snowflakes on my tongue and just watch it as it gently falls to the ground. If I could decide between indoor or outdoor for the cold weather, I would decide outdoor and just have fun in the snow once again.

How I miss the snow. How I miss seeing kids having a fun in the snow doing a snowball fight, sledding, building a snowman, and making snow angels. These days, in this time of modern age, I don’t see any one enjoying the snow any more.

The one message that I would say is that the snow brings out the community by playing, helping or caring. There’s always something about the snow that brings out a person we’ve not seen in a long time or not seen before.

I wish people would remember that magic of the snowy weather.

- Maria Palmer

 A Poetic Tribute to Tube City Writers

JaNuary 29,2020

Salute to Santa Parade

December 17, 2019

The Salute to Santa Parade began at 11:00 a.m. on November 22, 2019., at the corner of 5th and Market Street, near the Discover McKeesport building in McKeesport. This was the 55th year for the parade. 

The parade marshal wearing a Santa Claus hat led the parade, followed by four mounted policewomen. An Army honor guard followed. Then a motorcycle police escort. Then two city police cars began our fair city’s parade. 

We were also honored by our Mayor Mike Cherepko, who walked in the parade, and Representative Austin Davis, as his staff car followed along. Paraders threw candy to the parade goers standing on the sidewalk. I picked up a few pieces of candy myself to eat.

The people lined both sides of 5th Avenue, dressed in winter clothing. The weather was nice, but chilly although the sun was shining. Everyone seemed happy and cheered or applauded as they began to see the floats coming up the street. 

Senator Jim Brewster and his staff rode in the back of a Chevrolet pickup truck as he threw candy to the parade goers. The Carnegie Library of McKeesport presented their “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” float in celebration of the book’s 50th Anniversary.

The float was colorfuly decorated with pine trees and kids. Program director Mary Rose Bendel led the float by wearing a lovely butterfly costume. I complimented her on the costume and asked her what it meant. She said, “The caterpillar becomes a beautiful butterfly.” 

Jim Heatherington and his wife sat riding quite comfortably on a leather upholstered car seat in one their six antique Ford cars built between the years of 1928 and 1931.

They are members of the 3 Rivers Ford Model A Club. They were fine cars to look upon. A clown drove one of the cars and another one had a Steelers’ decal on the front. Each car was beautifully decorated with a pine Christmas wreath.

I saw Nittany the Lion, the Penn State mascot, walking beside the round Eat’n Park Smiley cookie. One little boy ran up to the Smiley cookie and gave it a hug.

Trumpets, drums, trombones sounded. The marching feet of the McKeesport Area High School 

Band came down the street. Their excellent horn section played Angels We Have Heard on High.

They wore well fitted navy blue jackets with silver buttons and pants, and tall hats with beautiful plumes. Feathers and straps fitted around the chin. ReShawna Mackson was one of the flutists who played Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Parade goers were also enchanted by the McKeesport Area High School Band’s sweet strains of Handel’s Messiah.

There was something for everyone. People wore winter clothing on a fall day. A bright red Fire Commander truck rode down the street and Woody, the cowboy from Toy Story, dressed in fancy cowboy boots waved to everybody. The McKeesport Little Theater’s float promoted their upcoming live radio production of It’s A Wonderful Life. 

There were many youth groups, such as the Men of Valor Youth Group, The Boys and Girls Club Marching Group, the Black Berets of McKeesport all dressed in Santa Claus outfits with their director Helene Philips dancing along to a marching beat of the drummers. Twin Rivers McKeesport School and the Penn State University of Greater Allegheny also appeared in the parade.

Other groups included the McKeesport Little Tigers Football Youth, the Girl Scouts of Pennsylvania, South Allegheny parade walkers, and the Christian Park United Methodist Church’s Kids Kitchen float. 

Other organizations with floats or vehicle in the parade were: The Mon Valley Independent Newspaper float, the McKeesport Housing Authority, the McKeesport Regional History and Heritage of the Mon Valley Museum, Tube City Online, Puzzler’s Restaurant, U.S. Army truck, and Big’s Sanitation. Port Vue and Glassport police cars, ambulances and the McKeesport Fire Department were sounding off lots of sirens.

Everyone was smiling.

Fire trucks from several companies – Tube City Fire, Monroeville, East McKeesport, Elizabeth Township and the United Volunteer Fire and Rescue – made their way down 5th Avenue. Liberty Borough Fire Department presented their bright red fire trucks at the end of the parade.  If I missed the names of any of the groups, please know that everyone was glad to see your float in the parade. 

Some of our city’s families were at the parade and had only nice things to say about it.  

Delores Simpson said, “We come every year, and it is a nice family event.”  La Miah Allen, age 9, said, “It was amazing!” Calvin, age 7, said, “I liked the candy!”

Longtime McKeesport resident Misty Williams and her daughter Amanda said, “It was nice to see the parade, and that families were a part of it.” An elderly resident Yvette Roth who was born and raised in McKeesport as well as a 1965 graduate of McKeesport Area High School said, “It was nicely put together.” I agreed with her.

Near the end of the parade, I believe that Santa Claus was riding on a fire truck. I missed seeing him because I was talking with one of the parade goers. I also thought that he would ride into our city on a reindeer.

Sorry, Santa. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to see you.

Following the parade, a Community Christmas Dinner for all the kids, parents and people who were at the parade was given by the Palisades Hall in McKeesport. The stage was decorated with yellow and green Christmas lights, with even more lights hanging from the ceiling.

Amid the shouts of children who wanted to see Santa Claus, lines of children and their parents began to form around the room. Everyone received a bag lunch with a hot dog, orange juice and a Smiley cookie, which we enjoyed while we waited for the festivities to begin.

I then asked Mayor Cherepko what he thought about the whole event and he said,“ Everything was great! Looking forward to kicking off the holiday season.”

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome,” Cherepko said to start the event. He introduced the parade volunteers and his staff. He then announced the name of the Santa Queen 2019, Danielle List, a McKeesport Area High School cheerleader. She was crowned with a diamond tiara and given a bouquet of red roses. I spoke with her and asked how she felt and she said, “It feels good to be queen!”  

Another lucky winner won a Thanksgiving Dinner sponsored by a group that donates clothing to cancer survivors.

Mayor Cherepko announced, “For those who want to visit our special visitor. Please make two lines.”

We all counted 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“Here he is, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give it up for Santa Claus,” the mayor said.

Suddenly, I heard a big applause. Moms and dads lined up again with their children, so their children could sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. I only saw smiles on their faces. Afterwards, each child received a toy duck wearing a Santa Claus hat.

I asked Santa Claus if he had a few words he wanted to say and he said, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Hundreds of children came to the Palisades Hall to see Santa Claus. I say, “Who says that kids don’t believe in Santa Claus?” I still do. Merry Christmas!

- Colette Funches

Tube City Writers Live 2019

december 11, 2019

 The Umbrella Man

December 5, 2019

Perspiration was rolling off me, the day was so warm.

"We could not afford an air conditioner," instructed my mother, "and what would the neighbors think?" I hated like anything to be working on a paper for school in the middle of July, but circumstances being what they were, here I was, up in my second floor room, with my "free form" twenty-word-a-minute, two-finger typing pace, working diligently in between my thoughts and perspiration drops on a theme for English class.

With a fire station on Evans Street at the top of our hill and McKeesport Hospital ER at the bottom near Fifth Avenue, cars, trucks - including police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks - at various times of the day and or night zoomed up and down Evans Street.

The neighbor on our left, Mr. Toth, was helping a carpenter remodel his porch. The widowed Mr. Hajduk, our lonely and elderly neighbor on our right was occupying his porch swing and chatting with every passerby who came up or down our street. He would also wave to the riders on the trolley going up or down Evans Street and they usually waved back.

Birds were chirping, dogs were barking, and the neighbors were occupied. This was the background in which I had to concentrate on my theme.

Every sound carried in the muggy afternoon and was the “quiet” background in which I had to concentrate on my work. Very shortly, another sound chimed in with the others.

Literally almost, for it was a bell. It was something like a waiter's bell announcing, "Dinner is served.”

Not a harsh bell, nor a shrill one, like the altar bell in church.

No! It wasn't a bell as on a tot's tricycle either. 

It was just a steady ring, and it wasn't stationary; its carrier was moving, at a fixed pace.

Then just as suddenly it stopped, somewhere near the house.

I started down the stairs to see what the ringing was all about. I could hear my mother from the kitchen saying, "Oh, my! It's the Umbrella Man," as I reached the bottom and was going out the door.

“Sure enough," she said, "he's a man who goes around fixing umbrellas and sharpening knives and scissors. One hasn't been around for a couple years."

I didn't know how to make her out. I had never as far as I could remember actually seen an umbrella man.

So, determining to see for myself, I went out to the porch and this elderly gentleman was next door at Mrs. Toth's house already working on some of her kitchen knives.

Two young neighbor girls, Janey, who was about 8 and her sister, Tammy, who was about 10, were following him down the street. Their mom heard the bell also and she sent them to fetch the man to come their house next. The girls sat on our steps in the shade and were also watching the man as he was engaging in his work.

While he was still in the front yard next door, I thought I'd better go get our old lawn mower. My dad and I tried to fix it ourselves, but it just wouldn't cut. Maybe this fellow could do something we could not. I brought the mower out to the front steps and waited for him to come over to our house.

Presently he did. He was a little man, about as tall as my father, who was only 5'6".  His white hair and mustache seemed a contrast to the deeply tanned skin underneath the hair and his work shirt. I'd say he was pretty close to sixty-three or four, if not older. The dark cap perched on his head was soiled, probably from many years of perspiration and work, as he traveled on foot during the summers in the neighborhoods.                     

From a quick glance I could see that the rest of his attire matched: from the wrinkled boots to the graying vestee sweater he wore despite the humidity. A rag stuck out of his right back pocket in his many times-washed blue jeans and he probably wore his glasses only for close work.

My mother brought out 3 kitchen knives and 2 old pairs of scissors. She wanted to get her money's worth. She was thinking that he might not be around for another two or three years.

He sharpened these items quickly and then moved on to the old lawn mower.

After taking the lawn mower apart, he took the bottom plate, which the rotating blades strike when they cut, and held it to the grindstone. He had to lean forward slightly to work his tool. This move inclined his head and shoulders a little and indicated the concentration he applied to his work.

Sparks flew in every direction as he began to work the pedal with his right foot. The shrill noise of the grindstone was piercing enough to make one cover his or her ears, as young Janey and Tammy did.

But every few seconds he would examine his work, smoothing his hand over the warm steel that was slowly becoming sharper. Finally, after five minutes of grinding, he was satisfied that the task was accomplished.

While they were sitting there observing his actions, I couldn't help comparing the young girls with the aged gentleman in front of us. They had never seen an umbrella man either. To them and to me, he was someone out of a past which still had claim on him.

This man bucked the idea of automation, and the modern world concept of advanced machinery and fast cars, button-down shirt collars, and sneakers and jeans that was growing around me and into which these two girls had been born and raised.

His hands seemed unusually heavy, although he himself was not  a heavyset person.  They were smooth and tanned and the skin was taunt and aged. He carried on his back the machine that was his trade. It was a little smaller than what a hobo carries to earn a meal by advertising for some local second-class restaurant. The only difference was that the sides were permanently braced apart. On top was a small grindstone, the key to his trade. This was made to revolve by a pedal at the bottom, like an old sewing machine.

On the sides were leather straps, which contained other tools: a small wrench, a screwdriver and an oil can, as well as some other necessary gadgets. He also had a bundle of umbrella sticks and innards from which he derived his name, tied with a cord. His skills were just as good at repairing "bumbershoots" as at sharpening dull cutting instruments.

I asked him how much it would cost to sharpen the mower blades. He replied only a dollar. A dollar for each pair of scissors he sharpened and a dollar for each of the mower blades he replied. "Make it only two dollars for all the mower blades.”

He also repaired an old umbrella for my mom, with a new set of metal frameworks.

This fellow was independent in the world and was nondependent on anyone else to secure his future, although in a sense he was tied to a machine. His hands were his work and his feet were his transportation.

I still wondered about the bell and gazed around in search of it. I didn't find it, so I was content to sit and watch him at his tasks.

In the meantime, my mother had gone into the house to get her change purse and returned with her purse and a bottle of cold ginger ale. She gave the drink to this craftsman and five dollars for the excellent work he did.

The elderly gentleman thanked us for the work and for the cold drink.

I asked him where he had parked his car or truck. He recoiled his head and said emphatically, "I don't have a car. I live close by in Wilmerding.” Wilmerding was about eight miles away; he would pick any one of the about 12 nearby towns or neighborhoods and walk there.  Though I would be able to walk, I just would take our old Chevy to Wilmerding or anywhere else for that matter.

Then I asked when he would be back again. He indicated not until the next April or May when the weather turns pleasant.

“When you hear the bell, you’ll know it's me!"

He slung his grinding apparatus on his shoulder, took the bell out of his pocket and went up Evans street, so young Janey and Tammy could lead him to their house, and then in search of other customers, getting their attention by ringing the bell as he journeyed up and down the streets.

With the bell ringing and my glimpse of yesteryear fading up the street, I returned to my paper still musing about the umbrella man.

- Ed Boyko

Award Winning Journalists Share Their Work at McKeesport Community Newsroom

November 8, 2019

Aly’s Legacy

october 30, 2019

An Introduction to Your First Amendment Rights

october 23, 2019

Youth C.A.S.T at Pop Up and Play

September 6, 2019

Pittsburghers for Public Transport

August 12, 2019

McKeesport Library Parking Lot Opening

August 9, 2019

Teen Photography Workshop @ Library

August 6, 2019

Tube City Writers

July 22, 2019

Assignment: Independence Day

July 4th, 2019