
A headless statue accumulated from somewhere, now standing up to its neck in Boston ivy outside the Mattress Factory art museum.
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.)
Father Suitbert Mollinger was the greatest collector of holy relics in history, and his collection (the largest in the world outside the Vatican) still lives in the chapel he built on Troy Hill to accommodate it. But Father Mollinger was more than a priest and a collector: he was also a healer. He had a reputation for miraculous cures. He also had medical training, which gave him an edge on the competition in the miracle-cures department. And even six months after his death, as we see here, he was still in the patent-medicine business.
This advertisement comes from the Volksblatt, one of three German dailies in Pittsburgh in 1892. The text advertises Father Mollinger’s original-recipe cures for catarrh, rheumatism, and other common diseases, which are to be had from a druggist on Federal Street in Allegheny (now the North Side). You know they’re authentic because no one could forge that beard.
If the addresses have not changed, this druggist was in the block of Federal Street where PNC Park is now.
PCC car no. 1711, restored to Pittsburgh Railways red and cream, at the Pennsylvania Trolley Museum. This car was active on Route 47 until a few years ago, when the PCC cars were finally retired.