Archive for the ‘Pittsburgh’ Category

Where the Nation Was Built

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

Washington Park playground (Hill District, Pittsburgh), c. 1907

Children playing at the Washington Park playground (Hill District), c. 1907

At the turn of the last century, it wasn’t the aim of playgrounds to provide fun for children. Back then, playgrounds were part of a clear social and educational agenda. The Playground Movement and the American Settlement Movement (an important progressive reform initiative at the end of the 19th century) fought both for the improvement of the mental and physical health in lower-income classes and immigrants.

The Playground Association of America, founded in 1906, spread the idea of structured play in the American cities. As Boston reformer Joseph Lee declared in 1907, “organized recreation is one of the building blocks of the republic. Properly equipped and run by a good leader of  ‘a high personal type’ the playground is ‘a school of all civic virtues.’” Streets were described as a “school of crime.” Playgrounds were therefore perceived as tools to civilize children. Other instruments included gymnasiums, educational storytelling, and free and fresh milk for schoolchildren. In the case of Pittsburgh, the city placed the management of its playgrounds in the hands of the Playground Association of America. The organization’s Third National Congress took place at Pittsburgh’s Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland in 1909.

In the 1930s, this approach with its emphasis on physical and moral education moved gradually into what would become the vision of creative playgrounds. Developed by Scandinavian urban planners and landscape designers (and then taken over by many others), the new concepts stressed the conviction that a child is not simply an incomplete adult, but an individual with creative potential.

Gabriela Burkhalter just moved from Basel to Pittsburgh, but still runs Architektur für Kinder (Architecture for Children), a homepage dedicated to the history of playgrounds.

Quotes from Linnea M. Anderson’s “‘The playground of today is the republic of tomorrow’: Social reform and organized recreation in the USA, 1890-1930’s,” 2007, from The Encyclopaedia of Informal Education

Photos from the Historic Pittsburgh Image Collection

Polish Hill, Russian icons

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

Entering Polish Hill under the Bloomfield Bridge

Entering Polish Hill under the Bloomfield Bridge

I love my tiny neighborhood of Polish Hill. Nestled between the Strip District, Lawrenceville, Oakland, and the Hill District, it often feels like a little village in the middle of the city. At the top of the hill on Bethoven Street, birds chirp in rambling gardens behind brick houses, and all is quiet (except for the brass band practicing in the old garage). Slightly crumbling  public stairways make their way through leafy hills, popping out between houses. Porches face north, with an incredible panoramic view of valley, rivers, train tracks, and city. There are hidden houses at the bottom of gullies. An outdoor gallery of graffiti under the Bloomfield Bridge gives way to a community garden. I live next door to a three-story building housing Lili Coffee Shop (a café that often hosts good live music),  the excellent record store Mind Cure Records on the second floor, and Copacetic Comics on the third, with its great selection of graphic novels, comics, used and new books, cds, and the wise council of its owner Bill Boichel. And there’s almost no need to mention Gooski’s—definitely the best dive bar in a hundred-mile radius…

The neighborhood is home to a fair number of artists, musicans, chefs, filmmakers, etc. I recently came accross this short film by Julie Sokolow about the neighborhood’s resident Russian Orthodox icon painter. Pretty fascinating stuff.

And a great set of photos of the recent May Day celebrations by Polish Hill man-about-town Mark Knobil.

“Everything except salt air and a beach.”

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012

Did you know that the world’s first Ferris Wheel was invented and built by a Pittsburgher in 1893?

Walking by Caliban Books the other day I spotted this little gem in the window: PittburGraphics: Graphic Studies in Paragraphs and Pictures Pertaining to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania by Samuel R. Ohler. Published in 1983, this book is packed with fascinating (if a bit outdated) tid-bits of information about our Steel City, including a history of Pittsburgh’s inclines, tunnels, and bridges, as well as its Greatest Tragedies, Worst Floods, and the mysterious “Underground River.” Also covered are exciting topics such as “Fighting Ships Named USS Pittsburgh” and “Living Downtown” in the city Ohler describes as having “everything but salt air and a beach.” This book is so full of PGH-pride that the cover features a typeface called “Pittsburgh Black,” first manufactured in PGH in the early 1900s.

See the gallery below to peek between the covers. There is even a little lesson in Pittsburguese!

Heppenstall is found!

Thursday, July 12th, 2012

heppenstall sign 2

On June 7th Daniel Baumann posted on the mysterious disappearance of the Heppenstall sign near the Lawrenceville apartment. I am pleased to report that this weekend, on a trip to Carrie Furnace with visiting artist Zoe Strauss (more on Zoe’s visit soon!), Dan Byers and I happened upon the dismantled remains of ol’ Heppie. Nestled in the dusty corner of an old Steel Work’s engine house seems the perfect resting place for this venerable marker of industry. Certainly, much better than the Wall Street bar Daniel had predicted.

heppenstall sign 3

The Bayernhof or Little Bavaria, Pittsburgh, PA

Saturday, June 23rd, 2012

Have 3 free hours and $10 to burn in Pittsburgh on a Saturday? You could easily put down 6.67 drafts of cheap beer and while away the hours in a dark smoky dive bar. But here, I give you a far superior alternative, one that is possibly just as cave-like and trippy: the Bayernhof Museum. Perched on a hill overlooking the Allegheny River sits a beautifully elaborate and, at times, awkward mansion built to house one of the largest privately owned collections of antique mechanical musical instruments. Outside the main entrance, an ominous sign greets visitors: if you arrive early, kindly wait in your car until the tour begins. On the dot, the door creaks open and you think you’ve entered the Neuschwanstein Castle—if the Bavarian kingdom abutted the era of 1980s home entertainment technology. Each room of the Bayernhof houses a different enchanting machine for listening: nickelodeon player pianos, nickel-operated Wurlitzer organs, harps and banjos, phonographs, an enormous pipe organ orchestra made for silent films, even a dainty singing bird cage. The tour, led by the museum’s curator, takes a circuitous path from room to room of German kitsch, beer steins, and Hummel figurines, past the 18 stocked bars of the house, a shower with over 10 shower heads, an observatory, down a small hidden staircase into a subterranean lair through a cool, dark wine grotto that leads to a large pool room littered with colorful, rustic wallpaper murals and faux flower arrangements. There is even a purple felt billiards table along the way, but alas, I’ve already said too much. Advanced reservations recommended, no nickels required. In one final word: magical.