Manchester is a relatively poor neighborhood rich in Victorian architecture. Nowhere else in Pittsburgh are there so many uninterrupted blocks of Victorian rowhouses with elaborate front porches. The restoration of the neighborhood was a pet project of Richard Mellon Scaife, the eccentric billionaire owner of the Tribune-Review.
The elaborate entrance portal to Highland Park at the end of Highland Avenue could never be made today. Think of the protests! It would be called a waste of money, an exploitation of women, or even obscene. In Victorian times, it was probably called “beautiful,” but that is an outmoded form of discourse.
A headless statue accumulated from somewhere, now standing up to its neck in Boston ivy outside the Mattress Factory art museum.
Pittsburghers call it “cobblestone,” although real cobblestones are irregular roundish rocks, much harder to drive on than Belgian block. As a pavement, Belgian block is just about ideal for neighborhood streets. It lasts almost forever, it’s attractive, and it slows traffic to a safe pace on a residential street. Since most people think the object of driving is to go as fast as possible, most people hate Belgian block, and more and more Belgian-block pavements are disappearing under smooth asphalt. But there are still hundreds of Belgian-block streets in Pittsburgh and the inner suburbs.
In neighborhoods like Brookline, cheaper brick pavements were used on flat stretches of street. The more expensive Belgian block was reserved for hills, where it gives far better traction in wet weather than brick does.
The rooftops of Polish Hill silhouetted in the sunset. In the background, the domes of Immaculate Heart of Mary Church.
The well-dressed gentleman could outfit himself and his son completely at Kaufmann’s (now Macy’s) downtown. And he could do it in German, or any of several other languages, if he had trouble dealing with English. Department stores were careful to keep clerks fluent in the major languages of their clientele: clients expected that level of service. (Advertisement from the Volksblatt, November 10, 1892.)
