“Romantic” is a vague term, but in the Allegheny Cemetery there is a certain class of tombstones for which no other adjective seems appropriate. Asymmetry and an imitation in stone of forms from the vegetable kingdom are their distinguishing traits.
The Wilkins family monument crosses the line from simple romanticism into morbid romanticism. It depicts the Wilkins family as a tree trunk, with each deceased member as a branch cut off from the trunk. The metaphor, if carried to its logical conclusion, suggests that the family is extinct, leaving nothing but a dead stump. But someone must have paid for that monument, which is really quite colossal in person.
There are, of course, no famous Troy Hill Clydesdales, but these horses and this wagon visited long enough to enliven a September parish fair in Troy Hill. Here we see them with St. Anthony’s Chapel in the background.
Can you imagine Pittsburgh with a comprehensive metro system to rival Montreal’s or Washington’s? How much do you think it would cost? How much do you think the contract would be worth to the lucky bidder?
Father Pitt expects to win that bid, because he will undercut any competitors’ bids so severely that they will be forced to admit defeat.
Father Pitt will give you a complete metro system for nothing. Free, gratis, without charge.
How can he afford to do that? Is he wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice?
Well, of course he is, but that is not strictly relevant. Old Pa Pitt can give you a metro system for nothing because only he knows the secret. You can have a metro that would be the envy of any comparable city if you will but open your eyes and see that you already have it.
Old Pa Pitt is a busy man these days, what with dusting two and a half centuries’ worth of accumulated detritus just in case Chancellor Merkel should decide to take a white glove to his shelves. This is his excuse for not yet having released his plan for rapid-transit development in Pittsburgh, which he had nearly finished months ago. This was the map he had prepared:
Click on the image for a PDF map.
One of the main planks in his rapid-transit platform was to make the rail system easier for novice riders by replacing the arcane route numbers with colored lines, as most rail-transit systems in this country have done. He had prepared a map that showed Routes 42S and 42C as the Red Line, Routes 47L and 47S as the Blue Line, and Route 52 as the Yellow Line.
You may imagine his considerable amusement, then, when the Port Authority released a Transit Development Plan a little while ago, in which—among other changes—the rail routes are now designated by colors rather than by numbers. Routes 42S and 42C will be known as the Red Line, Routes 47L and 47S as the Blue Line, and Route 52 as the Brown Line.
The coincidence in color choices is less extraordinary than you might think. Until a few years ago, although the lines had been designated by route numbers, the system maps had always shown Routes 42 as red lines and Routes 47 as blue lines. Why brown, of all colors, should represent the Allentown Trolley is a question Father Pitt prefers not to waste too much time pondering. President Zuma is reputed to be unusually fastidious, and there is scrubbing to be done.
But the Port Authority’s plan only goes halfway. Pittsburgh’s busways are the other half of the system.
Other cities like Boston and Cleveland have integrated “bus rapid transit” lines into their rapid-transit system maps. Yet those are halfhearted affairs, mixing with street traffic and subject to many of the inconveniences of ordinary buses.
Pittsburgh, almost alone in North America, has built real metro lines for buses. There are no at-grade intersections at all; the buses have their own track from one end of the busway to the other. These high-speed transit lines deserve to be recognized as part of the Pittsburgh Metro. And marketing them that way would make them both easier to use and more attractive.
In a few days, Father Pitt will release two more maps. One will be an updated map of the rapid-transit system as the Port Authority sees it (update:now posted here). The other will be an updated version of the ideal Pittsburgh Metro. Watch this space carefully.
This is the face of a Middle Eastern trader as imagined a century ago by sculptors who had doubtless read the Arabian Nights in the popular Victorian translation. It adorns what Pittsburghers know as the Gimbel’s building, because it held the Gimbel’s department store for more than fifty years.
The new Flora Pittsburghensis is a celebration of the wild flowers of Pittsburgh and suburbs. Wild flowers will still appear once in a while on Father Pitt’s site, but Flora Pittsburghensis is devoted exclusively to botanical matters, leaving Father Pitt to concentrate more on the architecture and history of Pittsburgh.
Just in time for the Pittsburgh Summit, a rousing march by Alma Y. Johnson to use as our anthem. It was originally published in 1926 by Ms. Johnson herself. Click on the pictures for full-size JPEG pages that you can print and carry to your piano or parlor organ. The cover alone is worth your time: it bears a sketch of the Pittsburgh skyline as it appeared in 1926, and its black-and-gold colors show us that some things never change.
These are the lyrics, reprinted as they are punctuated in the original:
1. The Spirit of Progress took wing O’er America’s land coast to coast, From the East where of Pilgrims they sing To the West, where of wonders they boast From the North, where the lake waters gleam To the South, where the Rio Grande flows, And came to the place of her dreams, Where the fire of genius glows.
CHORUS
Oh! Pittsburgh, City born of skill, The child of river and of hill, Heir to blessings from on high The promise of time gone by. Comrade gay to all who thrive The hope of those who bravely strive, Father of Industry, Patron of the Arts, Pittsburgh! Leader of all.
2. The deeds of thy children are known Where courage and faith have joined hand, Thy standard of learning has flown On the breeze, over ocean and land Thy steel, bright and true, spans the world ’Cross river and mountain and glen Thy banner of Progress unfurled Leads on the souls of men.
CHORUS
Note: This music is in the public domain, so anyone can reproduce or perform it in public at any time and for any reason.
They’re black and gold, and they bloom all summer. Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) are popular garden plants here, but they also pop up along roadsides and in vacant lots. Father Pitt is of the opinion that this flower, with its persistence, its indomitable good cheer, and above all its showy black-and-gold coloring, ought to be adopted as a symbol of Pittsburgh.
Flowers of the genus Eupatorium brighten late-summer roadsides and almost define the season in Pittsburgh. They are members of the Composite family (Compositae or Asteraceae), which means that, as with daisies or dandelions, each apparent flower is really a cluster of tiny flowers. Collectively members of the genus are all known as “thoroughworts.” Here are three of the most common species.
Click on the picture to enlarge it.
Snakeroot (Eupatorium rugosum) lives at the edge of the woods in large colonies, giving whole forests a broad white margin. A close look reveals the individual flowers that make up each head.
Joe-Pye-weed (Eupatorium fistulosum) is one of our most spectacular late-summer flowers. It can easily grow to eight feet high, and its faded mauve color is unique. The name, legend has it, refers to an Indian known as Joe Pye who used the plant to cure various ailments.
Thoroughwort or boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum) lives in wet areas, as here at the edge of a marshy pond. Note how the opposite leaves completely surround the stem.
Ground cherries grow almost wherever there is ground. We have two species in the area; both produce edible fruit inside their little Japanese lanterns, although it’s not usually much good until a week or two after it falls off the plant. (The papery lantern is toxic, so don’t eat it.) These pictures are of Physalis pubescens.
The flowers face downward and so are easily missed, but they’re worth examining closer. The color is primrose yellow with mahogany splotches around the center. They look like little Tiffany lanpshades, almost always held wide open and parallel to the ground.
Touch-me-nots, or jewelweeds, are some of our most common roadside flowers, and few flowers are more delightful. Close relatives of the garden Impatiens plants that seemed to have taken over the nurseries a few years back, they grow in vast colonies along the edge of the woods.
There are two common species in the eastern United States. Impatins pallida, which grows in the north and at higher elevations, has yellow flowers; Impatiens capensis (or Impatiens fulva), which grows in the south and at lower elevations, has bright orange flowers. Pittsburgh is right on the border of their ranges, so we get both, sometimes thoroughly mixed in the same colony. These pictures are all of Impatiens pallida.
The name “touch-me-not” comes from the explosive properties of the seedpods. If you touch a ripe seedpod, it will suddenly explode and send seeds flying in all directions. (The explosion is harmless, of course, but very amusing to children.) The secret is in the tense fibers of the pod, which, when the thin membrane that holds them together is ruptured, curl instantly into little coiled springs. You can tell a pod is ripe when you can see the black seeds through the thin green membrane.
Click on the picture to enlarge it.
The flowers are perfectly adapted for pollination by bumblebees. Each flower is almost exactly the size of a bumblebee; what the bee wants is far back in the spur of the flower, so that the bee must enter the flower completely and then withdraw, laden with pollento fertilize the next flower.
