Water Under the Bridge: January 2020

Thursday, January 23, 2020

Forging a Character. October 31, 2019

October 31, 2019

Forging a Character

I recently had the good fortune to be invited to give a presentation to the Historical Society of Collier Township. My subject was a summary of the seven workshops the Bridgeville Area Historical Society just completed, dealing with George Washington’s seven visits to Western Pennsylvania.

Coming up with a title for the talk proved to be easy; a common theme running through the workshops was the way these experiences helped convert an ambitious, athletic twenty-one-year-old into a world-renowned statesman. Hence, “Forging a Character”.

The audience was impressive. In addition to Sal Sirabella, Gene Czambel, and a nice group of Collier Township folks, it included Earl Edwards from the Moon Township Historical Society, Noreen Beatty from the Old Stone Tavern Friends, and Debbie Lynch from the Pioneers West Historical Society. It felt like a convention of local history buffs.

In 1753 George Washington was twenty-one years old and had just completed three years as a surveyor, an experience that provided him with a firm foundation in integrity and judgment. He sought a career as an officer in the Virginia Militia, a desire that led to his being selected for a difficult, sensitive assignment.

Virginia Governor Dinwiddie chose him to go West into the Ohio Country, locate the French interlopers who had invaded Virginia territory, and deliver a message to them demanding that they leave. Washington handled the mission admirably and started home with the French reply.

On his return trip he had two “near death” experiences. A hostile Indian took a shot at him at a range of “not 15 steps off” and missed. Two days later he was accidentally thrown off a makeshift raft in the middle of the flooding Allegheny River and nearly drowned.

The maturity and heroism Washington displayed on this mission were rewarded by a commission as Major, second in command of the Virginia Regiment. Their assignment was to proceed to the Forks of the Ohio and dislodge the French army that was constructing Fort Duquesne at that site.

The death of Jumonville, the surrender of Fort Necessity, and Washington’s inadvertent signing of a document that implied Jumonville had been assassinated were a series of examples of adversity from which the young Major learned well.

Despite these setbacks he was given the opportunity to serve as aide-de-camp to General Edward Braddock in the 1755 campaign to capture Fort Duquesne. His rapport with Braddock was significant. Before the general died from wounds suffered in the unfortunate debacle on the field now named for him, he bequeathed his favorite horse, his servant, and his red sash to Washington.

In the battle Washington had two horses shot from under him and four slugs passing through his coat. When Braddock fell, Washington rallied the troops and successfully led the retreat back to Virginia. A hero once again, he spent the next three years commanding the Virginia Militia against numerous severe Indian raids.

In 1758 the British resolved to make another effort to neutralize Fort Duquesne and sent General John Forbes and two crack regiments to the colonies with that mission. Washington was the obvious choice to command the Virginia troops assigned to the campaign.

Despite his disagreement with Forbes’ decision to invade through Pennsylvania rather than follow Braddock’s route, Washington, ever the “good soldier”, moved his regiment to Fort Bedford and became a significant part of the expedition.

Once again he found himself in the midst of a death-defying situation, this time from “friendly fire”. His troops and Colonel Hugh Mercer’s regiment blundered into each other while pursuing a French raiding party; thirty-two men were killed. At the height of the firing Washington realized what had happened and rode between the two lines, wielding his saber to stop his men from shooting.

At the end of this successful campaign Washington resigned from the Army, disappointed at his failure to earn a commission in the British Army. Not to worry, back in Virginia was widow Martha Custis, happy to marry him and become the mistress of Mount Vernon. Her husband was happy to take on the role of country gentleman and plantation manager.

In 1770 Governor Dinwiddie finally made good on his promise to reward veterans of the Fort Necessity campaign with land in the Ohio Country. Washington was asked to coordinate the distribution of 200,000 acres in the Kanawha Valley to deserving veterans. With his personal surgeon and best friend, Dr. James Craik, he set out on a massive trek to that area.

A major objective of this trip was identifying properties Washington could purchase for his own benefit. En route they picked up Colonel William Crawford, who became Washington’s agent. They followed the old Braddock Road to Pittsburgh on horseback, then shifted to canoes for the long journey down the Ohio to the point where the Kanawha enters it.

Washington’s journal gives great detail of the trip and particularly his evaluation of the suitability of the land they traversed as a site for farming. At one point they met an old acquaintance and sometime enemy, Guyasuta. A member of Washington’s party on the Fort LeBoeuf mission in 1753, Guyasuta was one of the leaders of the Indian contingent that defeated Braddock two years later.

He and Washington had a long discussion regarding the future relations between Indians and settlers in the Ohio Country, a discussion that influenced Washington’s policies with the frontier for the next two and a half decades.

On the return trip Washington tired of paddling upstream by the time they got to the Indian village Mingo Town (now Mingo Junction) and decided to go cross country back to Fort Pitt. It is highly likely that this trip took him down Millers Run to its junction with “Shurtees” (Chartiers Creek).

The next few years found Washington busy with political issues, culminating with participation in the First Continental Congress. Then followed seven years of war as commander of the colonial forces, capped by victory at the Battle of Yorktown and peace.

A year later he decided to go West and inspect his land holdings in the Ohio Country. Everywhere he went he met disappointment. The people he had engaged to manage his properties had allowed things to deteriorate.

His property on Millers Run had been occupied by squatters. When he met with them and offered to sell the land at the going rate, they responded by insisting on going to court over the dispute. Two years later in the community of Washington, in Washington County, Pennsylvania, George Washington won the suit.

His other motivation for this trip was his obsession with developing a transportation link between the Potomac River and the Ohio Country. He spent a lot of time investigating different tributaries in the hope he could find one with a minimum of canal building required to construct a practical route. In later years he would found the Potomack Navigation Company and serve as its President.

When the first Electoral College of our new nation met in 1788 they unanimously chose George Washington to be President. Every move his administration made established precedent; he, along with Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, and James Madison, invented our government.

In 1791 Hamilton persuaded Congress to pass the Distilled Spirits Duties Act, a piece of legislation which settlers on the frontier felt treated them unfairly. Their dissatisfaction and Hamilton’s reaction to it ultimately led to the Whiskey Rebellion and the burning of Bower Hill. Washington’s administration had its first major crisis – How does a democratic government respond to civil unrest?

Despite the possibility of defusing the insurrection peacefully, Washington elected to demonstrate the authority of the federal government by organizing militias from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia into an army of 13,000 men and sending them to Pittsburgh.

The sight of George Washington reviewing an army of this magnitude in Bedford, eighteen years after the Winter of Valley Forge, must have been impressive. The worst confrontation ensuing was the “Night of Terror” when troops dragged suspects out of their homes and arrested them. Eventually twenty-four men were indicted, ten were tried, and two were convicted of treason.

Washington pardoned the two convicts; his use of overwhelming force followed by compassion successfully terminated this specific threat to the Union. Sixty-seven years later Abraham Lincoln would face a much more serious threat.

It is our opinion that the solid character that George Washington exhibited in the bleak years of the Revolutionary War and then demonstrated as the first president of our Great experiment was heavily influenced by his experiences on the frontier, right in our back yard.

We are grateful to Sal Sirabella and the Historical Society of Collier Township for giving us the opportunity to complete our study of George Washington in Western Pennsylvania by reaching this conclusion.

Oyler Family Roots. October 24, 2019

October 24, 2019

Oyler Family Roots

Family history is a subject that regularly attracts my interest. I am not sure what kicked it off this time, but recently I decided to take another look at the Oyler family tree and see if I can add any information to it.

For many years our family has maintained and updated a master copy of our own genealogical history. It actually is a descendancy chart recording all the descendants of Adam Douglas and Annie Malinda Smith Oyler (my grandparents) and a trail of Oyler ancestors back four generations to Johan Georg Euler. At each family reunion we make a big fuss over adding the names of new babies and recently added spouses.

There are two prominent descendancy charts beginning with Johan Georg Euler available on the Internet. One is attributed to John C. Dawson; the other to Roger and Sue Cramer. Both of them are highly detailed and well documented, and both of them eventually find their way to my grandparents.

In both charts the progenitor, Johan Georg Euler, is reported to have arrived in North America in October, 1737, on the vessel “Billinder Townsend”. His wife is Anna Catherine Pobb; they had seven children, including Johan Jacob. Johan Jacob is identified as my great-great-great-great grandfather.

Several years ago a New Jersey genealogist, Joe Klett, encountered information that contradicts our version. He refers to a gentleman named George Iler who lived in Pilesgrove, New Jersey, southeast of Philadelphia on the other side of the Delaware River. His research indicates that this gentleman almost certainly is the Johan Georg Euler who came on the “Billinder Townsend”. He and his wife Mary had eight children with names and ages much different than those on our chart.

Obviously it is time for us amateur Oyler family genealogists to “go back to the drawing board”. What do we know for sure and what is mostly a guess?

I am confident going back four generations to my great-great grandfather, Andrew Oyler. We have a lot of information on him and his farm on the Falling Spring Creek near Chambersburg. Our family tree reports that his father’s name was John or Jacob and that his mother was Marie Wetzel.

Thanks to Sue Cramer we now have a copy of Andrew’s father’s will. Probated late in 1829 it names him as John Eyler. In it he bequeaths one third of his estate to his wife, Anna Margaretha. Apparently “Marie” was her familiar name. According to the will, their children were Susannah, Henry, John, Amelia, Andrew, Michael, Phillip, Jacob, and George.

This is interesting information that we previously did not have. However, if the Johan Georg Euler who emigrated in 1737 is not his father, who was? And when did John Eyler arrive?

The classic source for information regarding eighteenth century German immigrants is “Pennsylvania German Pioneers” by Ralph Beaver Strassburger and William John Hinke. It provides information on 38,000 immigrants who passed through Philadelphia between 1727 and 1808.

This reference gives three lists for each vessel arriving in Philadelphia – a passenger list, a list of passengers who signed the oath of allegiance (to the Crown), and a list of signers of the oath of abjuration (renunciation of the Supremacy of the Pope). In most cases the lists only included heads of families. There are numerous inconsistencies between the lists for a specific vessel, frequently because of the difficulty of Anglicizing German names.

Joe Klett suggested we investigate “Hans Jerg Ohler aboard the St. Andrew, arriving in Philadelphia in 1743” as a possible father for John Eyler. He turned out to be a gentleman who died in Lancaster in 1769. He and his wife, Johanna, had four sons – Johann .

Sue Cramer wondered about Hans George Eyler who arrived in 1754 with his wife Susanna and five sons, including one named Johann Jacob. She got this information from a book by Annette Burgert entitled “Eighteenth Century Emigrants from the Northern Alsace to America”. This is a possibility, although two of the sons are Martin and Samuel, neither of which correlates with our list of John’s siblings.

The ships arriving in 1754, however, suggest another possibility. Hans George and his family came in September on the “Barclay”. Johan George Ilgar came the same month on the “Adventure”. In October Philip Eygle, Jacob Eyler, and George Eyle arrived on the “Hennrietta”, followed by Henrick Eyler on the “John and Elizbeth” in November. The Johann Jacob (John Eyler) in our charts was born in 1736; he would have been eighteen in 1754. Perhaps he was a member of one of these families.

Equally interesting is the fact that five potential Wetzel families came through Philadelphia in September 1754. We think his wife was born in Germany in 1750. Could she have come with them, as a four-year old?

Another Oyler family legend is that Andrew’s parents were both indentured servants who met on the voyage from Europe and that John helped Marie work off her obligation after he had completed his. We believe they were married in 1770; if the legend is correct, they would have had to emigrate in the early 1760s.

I was surprised to learn that indentured servitude was a common way to pay for passage from Europe to America in the eighteenth century. Men had to work five years to pay off their debt; women, seven years. One source reported that half of the German immigrants in those days came as indentured servants.

Two different immigrants named Johann George Wetzel came in 1764; one on the “Sara”, the other on the “Hero”. Johann George Eller came on the “Polly” that year; some researchers speculate that Eller is a variant of Euler/Eyler. I have contacted “The Eller Family Association” with a request for a descendancy chart for Johann George Eller.

So we are left with many questions and few answers. I will attempt to list possible answers to my question: “Who was John Eyler”s father?” Candidates at this time include George Iler’s son Jacob, one of Hans Jerg Ohler’s three sons with the first name Johann, Hans George Eyler’s son Johann Jacob, Jacob Eyler (came in 1754 on the “Henrietta”, a possible son of Johann George Eller, and half a dozen more we have not yet identified.

The important thing is that we have been successful in determining the portion of our family tree that is reasonably well documented, in addition to adding a few more components.

Political Issues. October 17, 2019

October 17, 2019

Political Issues

I recently received the “Official Democratic 2020 Presidential Survey” in the mail, accompanied by a request that I share my priorities for 2020 with the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee. My first reaction was quite positive – they really are interested in my opinion!

Although I consider myself a moderate, probably leaning more to the conservative side than the liberal, I am registered as a Democrat. Living in Allegheny County there really isn’t any point in voting in the primary election unless you claim to be a Democrat.

I commend the Committee for being upfront about the real purpose of the survey; question number one was “How much money are you willing to donate to our campaign?” I hope that a negative answer to that question didn’t negate the rest of the answers.

Question #2 asked me which, from a list of twenty names, candidates I was currently supporting for the Presidential nomination. I selected Amy Klobuchar, after giving Joe Biden and Joe Sestak serious consideration. I do think it is time we give a woman a chance to take the reins.

The third question requested I pick three issues from a list of six that I consider to be most pressing for the next President. The six were “Soak the rich”; immigration reform; extending Obamacare; investing in education, health care and other important programs; defending Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid; and fighting climate change.

I didn’t think any of these issues were as important to me as the ones I would choose – the budget deficit, population explosion, extremism, and infrastructure. I then skipped down to Question 6 which was a repeat of number three except for the implication that these were specific issues being addressed by the Democratic Senate and Presidential candidates.

This list included gun violence, jobs and the economy, Obamacare, LGBTQ rights, abortion, environment and climate change, and voting rights. These are all legitimate issues and I acknowledge their importance to their adherents. But none of them concern me as much as the four I listed above.

Let me begin with the budget deficit and the ballooning national debt. The last time our government balanced the budget was 2001; at that time the national debt was about six trillion dollars. In the intervening years it has grown to over twenty two and a half trillion dollars and is still growing at a rate of about one trillion dollars a year.

The 2019 federal budget anticipated expenses of $4.4 trillion and income of $3.4 trillion. We are spending $1.30 for every $1.00 we bring in, and borrowing the rest. Even though this has persisted for eighteen years, no one in either party seems concerned – I am. The interest on this debt is one billion dollars a day! My highest priority is balancing the budget.

The year I was born the population of the United States was slightly more than 124 million persons; today we number well over 329 million (2.65 times as many). Worldwide the population is estimated at 2.1 billion; today it is slightly above 7.6 billion (3.61 times as many).

The consequences of this massive increase are immense and are indeed a major cause of many of the issues the survey addressed. One wonders how soon the passenger list on spaceship earth will become more than she can accommodate.

As a moderate I am distressed at the divisiveness generated by the extremism espoused by both parties and consider this to be the major deterrent to any kind of progress. Many of the Democrats’ issues are of the category that promotes extremism, issues with no clear middle ground. I’m sure the same can be said about the Republicans. I would prefer that we declare a cease fire on the most volatile ones and concentrate on finding something significant on which we can agree.

And, of course, my “something significant” is our deteriorating infrastructure. As a Civil Engineer I am keenly aware of this problem and of the numerous advantages of resolving it. Investing in infrastructure pays many dividends. The transportation related components of the infrastructure – highways, inland waterways, airlines, pipelines, and railroads benefit all of us. Construction and maintenance of them require many highly skilled workers, a valuable addition to our economy. Similarly, such projects can be a boost to our domestic manufacturing capability.

Infrastructure also includes water supply systems, waste water treatment facilities, the national electrical grid, recreational facilities, schools, solid waste disposal, and energy generation and distribution. We strongly support the engineering community’s recommendation that our investment in all these areas be dramatically increased. It certainly is an issue that both parties claim to support; let’s focus on it instead of fighting over extremist issues.

My observation of nearly nine decades of political turmoil suggests that today’s divisive environment is part of a cycle and that there is a possibility for moderates in both parties to make a comeback and bring us back together.

Apparently I am not alone in this hope. At the recent University of Pittsburgh’s 2019 American Experience Distinguished Lecture Series, three past Governors of Pennsylvania – Edward Rendell, Tom Ridge, and Richard Thornburgh – recommended a return to “civility and compromise in politics today”.

Political Campaign Memorabilia. October 10, 2019

October 10, 2019

Political Campaign Memorabilia

The Bridgeville Area Historical Society kicked off its 2019/2020 program season with an interesting presentation on memorabilia from past Presidential political campaigns by Mr. Stephen E. Mihaly, based on his collection of over 20,000 items. When he was a child, his family was addicted to garage sales and flea markets. One weekend they bought him a collection of campaign buttons, introducing him to a hobby that soon became an obsession.

He began his presentation with the 1896 election which pitted Republicans William McKinley and Garret Hobart against Democrats William Jennings Bryan and Arthur Sewall. The Populist Party also nominated Bryan as their candidate, with Thomas Watson as his running mate.

Mr. Mihaly reported that this election was the first one in which the candidates were marketed by the use of campaign buttons and ribbons. This contention is supported by a perusal of such artifacts on Ebay; there are lots of McKinley and Bryan buttons offered there and nothing earlier.

I was skeptical of this; one of my prize possessions is a button stating “I am a True Whig”. I realize it is a modern reproduction and that the “Last Hurrah” for the Whigs was in 1856. A possible explanation is the fact that there was a “True Whig” party in Liberia as recently as 1980. At any rate my button is appropriate for me; I am sympathetic with their positions. Certainly if Henry Clay or Daniel Webster were still alive, either one would get my vote.

The McKinley and Bryan artifacts were interesting and varied. In addition to buttons featuring photographs of the candidates ringed with bunting and patriotic flags, there were earrings, handkerchiefs, soap figures, and a gold bug pin with a picture of McKinley in one ear and Hobart in the other. The gold bug was especially relevant as the major issue in the campaign was backing currency with gold (McKinley’s preference) versus silver (Bryan’s approach).

By 1904 the use of campaign gimmicks had increased significantly. Republican Theodore Roosevelt was running against Democrat Alton Parker. Roosevelt had become President in 1901 following McKinley’s assassination; his personality was a perfect inspiration for all manner of items in addition to buttons and ribbons – spectacles, a “Big Stick” stick pin, a bandanna, a watch fob, and even a cast iron door stop. Teddy bears, of course, were an industry all their own and automatic publicity for their namesake.

In the 1912 election Woodrow Wilson’s buttons featured issues – advocacy for the eight hour work day and women’s suffrage. President Taft responded by a button declaring “I am for playgrounds”.

Another Roosevelt, Franklin, used campaign souvenirs quite effectively. The speaker showed a large mechanical button with a donkey that kicked “Depression” when you pulled a string attached to its nose. He also exploited his opposition to Prohibition with a collection of buttons promoting beer.

The first election I recall was 1936 when the Republicans ran Kansan Alf Landon against FDR. I distinctly remember Landon’s buttons which were enclosed in yellow fabric petals in honor of “the Sunflower State”. The 1940 campaign was dominated by “No Third Term” buttons, rather than ones promoting Republican candidate Wendell Willkie.

The 1952 election was dominated by the slogan “I Like Ike”, a natural which correctly illustrated the general opinion regarding Dwight Eisenhower. His opponent, Adlai Stevenson, was accidentally photographed with a hole showing in the sole of one of his shoes. In an effort to capitalize on their candidate’s humility, the Democrats put out a series of buttons showing the hole.

By accident I happened to be staying in the hotel that was the Democrats’ headquarters for their 1956 Convention. My two best friends when we were servicemen in Japan were Farris Farha (from Wichita, Kansas) and Don Wise (from Stroud, Oklahoma). Once we were safely home we decided to have a reunion in Chicago.

It was only after our plans had been made that we realized we had picked a bad week to be in Chicago, the week the Democratic Convention was in session there. Every hotel room in the city was already booked. Fortunately someone in Farris’ family had connections with Senator Robert Kerr and got us a room in the hotel that was headquarters for the Convention.

Although Stevenson had everyone’s support, the competition for the Vice Presidential nomination was intense. Instead of the Presidential candidate picking his running mate, Stevenson threw it open to the Convention. I remember rallies for “Love that Lyndon” Johnson, Hubert Humphrey, Estes Kefauver, and, most of all, for a very young John F. Kennedy.

As the electorate became more sophisticated the importance of gimmicks declined. A few exceptions were buttons showing Barry Goldwater’s characteristic horn-rimmed glasses in 1964, Jimmy Carter’s peanuts in 1976, and Ronald Reagan’s jelly beans in 1980. Too bad, I think buttons still are an effective way to make a point.

The Historical Society’s next program is scheduled for Tuesday, October 29, 2019 at 7:30 pm in the Chartiers Room, Bridgeville Volunteer Fire Department. Robert Cranmer will discuss “The Demon of Brownsville Road”.

Lafayette Street in 1939. October 3, 2019

October 3, 2019

Lafayette Street in 1939

One of my current projects is compiling a history of the neighborhood where I have lived for the past fifty years. It was developed in 1939, and we are having difficulty finding information about its early days. This has prompted me to record my recollections of Lafayette Street, the neighborhood where I grew up eighty years ago.

In 1939 I was eight years old; my brother Joe, two. We had moved into our new house at 1053 Lafayette in 1937; the neighborhood was still a combination of new houses and vacant lots.

Lafayette Street runs, in a general north to south direction, from an acute intersection with Elizabeth Street to an orthogonal one with Winfield, paralleling Bank Street one block to the east. It had just been paved, a welcome contrast to its gravel and “red dog” predecessor. The house on the northeast corner of the Elizabeth Street intersection was occupied by the Chamberlains – I don’t remember anything about them but the name.

Alfred Barzan believes that his father, Sam, built that house as a model home for Arthur Silhol, who was developing Lafayette Street. We are reasonably certain that Mr. Barzan built our house. It had been designed by architect James Wallace, whose sons Jim and Warren were members of our baseball team, the Hilltop Hellcats, years later. Our mortgage was for $5,700.

Leo and Freda Antion lived in the next house. Their son David was two years old in 1939. The lots on the east side of Lafayette were fifty feet wide by one hundred and twenty feet deep, splitting the distance to Bank Street. At that time there was a vacant lot between Antions and Russells; years later it was acquired by the abutting neighbors and split up, giving each of them a lot seventy five feet wide. Mr. Antion was a millworker; I remember that, after the war started, he worked in Dravo’s shipyard on Neville Island, building LST’s.

Holland Russell and his wife lived in the next house. Her son, from an earlier marriage, Frank Johnson lived with them. He was a 1939 graduate of Bridgeville High School who would go into the Army three years later. Mr. Russell was an employee of the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad, and a devoted gardener doomed to perpetual failure trying to outdo our father.

We were quite pleased with our house, the only one that my parents ever owned. In addition to having individual bedrooms for Joe and me, our father had built an enclosed room in the attic that served as additional play space for us. The vacant lot behind our house and Russells’ provided all manner of potential. We nailed planks across branches of a black cherry tree as the beginning of a crude tree house. We laid out and graded a badminton court. And, of course, our father found a way to have extra garden space.

Mrs. Florence Kinder was our next-door neighbor. She was a nurse at Mayview with two grown children, both of whom served in World War II. Don became a crew member of a B-25 Mitchell bomber; Marian, a WAVE. I remember Don giving me a model of a Lockheed P-38 Lightning when he was home on leave for a visit.

The next two lots were vacant in 1939. Originally they were wild enough that there was a significant sumac thicket at the back. The lot closest to Mrs. Kinder provided our father with still another “guerilla” garden. Eventually we cleaned things up and built a modest “pitch-and-putt” golf course.

Hoppers lived in the next house. Mr. (Bill) Hopper graduated from Bridgeville High School in 1911, served in World War I, and eventually married Flora Hockenberry, who was a teacher in the Bridgeville school system. Mr. Hopper worked in a store selling engineering supplies in Pittsburgh, probably B. K. Elliot. Their sons were Bill (ten years old in 1939) and Don (five). Bill was the “big kid” in the neighborhood at the time and my idol.

DeBlanders lived next door to Hoppers. Dale was four years old; Wayne’s birth was still in the future. Mr. DeBlander worked for Universal Cyclops. Fortunately Dale is alive and well and a treasured member of our Octogenarian Brunch group. We must use him as a resource for further information on the Lafayette Street neighborhood.

The Coxes were next; I remember very little about them except that they had no children. Mrs. (Ann) Cox was the sister of Mrs. Panizza, who lived “catty-corner” across the street.

Then came the Hellers. Mr. (Kellen) Heller managed a dry-cleaning establishment in Mt. Lebanon. They had two children – Nancy (then seven) and Don (four). Don eventually acquired the nickname “Wimpy”, probably from the Popeye character and their joint love of hamburgers.

The “Bud” Sims family had the next house, beyond which was a large vacant lot extending to Winfield and over to Bank Street. Mr. Sims was a steel-worker. An interesting feature of this lot was a scattering of very large rocks which the kids quickly labelled “Keys’ Rocks” as a dimunitive of McKees Rocks. The Sims family had two children, Buddy (then one) and Sandra (later to be born).

Returning to the north end of Lafayette Street, the first house on the west side belonged to Dr. Peter Castelli (Bridgeville High School 1926) and his wife Rosalie. Mrs. Castelli was a Silhol; it was rumored that their large house had been a wedding gift from her father, Arthur Silhol. Dr. Castelli played a prominent role in the establishment of St. Clair Hospital years later.

My recollection of the Castellis is of a big party at their house with a loudspeaker playing music and the popular song “Rosalie” being repeated frequently. This song was featured in the movie “Rosalie” in 1937, where it was sung by Nelson Eddy. A version by Sammy Kaye was number thirty-five on the 1937 Billboard chart (“Sing, Sing, Sing” was first); that is probably the record they were playing.

Because of the sharp angle between Elizabeth and Lafayette Streets, the Castelli lot was a large triangle extending well beyond our house. The vacant lot next to it provided a natural shortcut for us going to the high school years later, via Fryers’ sidewalk and the (Eagle Way) alley running down to Gregg Avenue. It eventually was acquired by the owners on both sides.

The next house was the property of the Beall family. Bud Beall was a 1930 graduate of Bridgeville High School at which time he was known as Alpheus Beall. He married Elizabeth (Lib) Strain (Class of 1933); later on they had three children – Mary Jane, David and Virginia. When the War came Bud went into the service; my mother was very supportive of Lib while he was away. Bud worked for the Vanadium Corporation of America; he found me a summer job there in 1952.

Two vacant lots separated Bealls’ from the Jones family. Amos and Thelma Jones had two sons, Amos Junior (then six) and Gary (two). Mr. Jones was a refrigeration repairman and a night watchman at one of the coal mines and a favorite of the neighborhood kids because he carried a firearm. Their house was directly across the street from DeBlanders.

Next came a vacant lot and then Panizzas. Mr. (Joe) Panizza owned the Bridgeville Bottling Works; he gave me a summer job in 1947. They had two children – Genevieve (then three) and Bob (not yet born).

Their next-door neighbors were the Capozzolis, John and Eleanor. In 1939 Mary Ann Capozzoli was one year old; Elaine, Louise, and John Junior were still off in the future. Mr. Capozzoli managed Reliable Savings and Loan; my parents had known him since 1934 when he was responsible for renting them “the stone bungalow” (823 Bank Street). The neighborhood kids were delighted to learn that his nickname in high school (1925) had been “Speedo”, completely out of character with the careful way he drove his car on our street when we were playing in it.

The house on the southwest corner of Lafayette and Winfield belonged to the Gallaghers. Mr. (Doyce) Gallagher was another Bridgeville High School graduate (1914). Their daughters were Lois (then nine) and Carol (four). At some point Carol was stricken with polio, probably the only victim we knew.

To an eight-year-old, Lafayette Street was an attractive oasis in a world that was still difficult to comprehend. We were pioneers, establishing homesteads in a previously unpopulated area. Vacant lots were slowly being replaced by new houses every year.

To the north our buffer was “Bank Property”, the well-established neighborhoods on Gregg Avenue, Chestnut Street, and Elm Street. We were grown-up enough to be able to handle the twice daily round trips through it to Washington Grade School, but still very apprehensive of wandering off from the designated route.

To the east, across Bank Street, was another pioneering settlement along Sarah Street. They were our defense against the “Bell Town” and “Goose Town” barbarians who lived on McLaughlin Run Road, much as “Greenwood” protected us from the ruffians on Baldwin Street.

The Weise family, symbols of affluence and stability, dominated the block south of us, in sharp contrast with the Godwins and Lesnetts who lived on the other side on them and earned their livelihood scratching in the earth as farmers.

And, finally, to the west Chartiers Street and the steep drop down to the Chartiers Creek valley was a gateway to a natural wonderland – woods and meadows and the Blue Ponds and the Swinging Bridge and Mayview Cave. We were indeed on the Frontier!

This has been an enjoyable trip backward eight decades. I believe I will recruit Dale DeBlander and my brother to be guest columnists some future week and provide their recollections of our neighborhood a few years later.

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Gettysburg: the Play. September 26, 2019

September 26, 2019

Gettysburg: the Play

One advantage of reading this column is its unprecedented record of presenting exclusive scoops, reports of significant events that no other journalist is covering. This week’s scoop is a critical review of the eagerly anticipated premiere of the Noh play, “Gettysburg”, in the Charity Randall Theater on the University of Pittsburgh campus. Because of my daughter’s role in coordinating the event I have been somewhat apprehensive, apprehensive that the performance would not live up to expectations and apprehensive that it would not attract a significant audience.

Fortunately neither apprehension was realized. The performance greatly exceeded my expectations and was enthusiastically received by a large crowd. It was indeed a local theater event that will be remembered for many years.

The play is a melding of two dramatically different cultures – traditional Japanese theater and our American obsession with the Civil War. The specific story, two comrades choosing commitment to opposing causes, over friendship, is an excellent candidate for a Noh play and could easily have been based on a Japanese tale. Playwright Elizabeth Dowd felt it was specifically appropriate for “the warrior Noh, a genre that …explores the Buddhist concept of the Asura realm where defeated warriors are condemned to fight their final battle through eternity”.

The play was performed by Theatre Nohgaku, a repertory company of English-speaking artists with a passion for classical Noh theater and a conviction that it has profound power for contemporary audiences. To help acquaint the Pittsburgh audience with some of the characteristics of this art form, they prefaced the performance of “Gettysburg” with excerpts from three other Noh plays.

First was the “kiri”, (final dance), from the play “Hagaroma” involving a single actor and a three person chorus, all in Japanese. Next came “Cho-no-mai” , a basic instrumental piece that usually accompanies a dance in a variety of plays involving beautiful women, aristocrats, or crazed women. The final skit was an excerpt from “Blue Moon over Memphis”, an English language Noh play dealing with loneliness and set in Elvis’ Graceland mansion. The three skits served as a powerful introduction to this unfamiliar type of theater.

The play “Gettysburg” has two acts, seamlessly connected by an interlude. In the first act “the Veteran” arrives at the Gettysburg National Military Park seeking the monument showing the spot where Confederate General Lewis Armistead fell. The Veteran is a classic Noh “waki”, a traveler who is visiting a hallowed site. This waki has been traumatized by his experiences in the war in Afghanistan.

A descendant of Union General Winfield Scott Hancock, the Veteran possesses a pocket watch which the dying Armistead had requested be given to Hancock, his (former) best friend, and which has been passed down through the generations to the Veteran. At the Battlefield Park the Veteran encounters a mysterious “Groundskeeper”, who helps him find the monument and then discusses Armistead’s last days with him. In Noh, this role is the “Shite”, the main character.

The two men discuss the lingering effects of war. The Veteran: “Only the dead have seen the end of war”. The Groundskeeper: “No. Not even the dead”. The Groundskeeper then leaves; the Veteran sits down, his back against a fence post. Act One has ended.

The Interlude begins with the arrival of a “Docent”, a tour guide reciting her description of the events of the afternoon of July 3, 1863 – the greatest artillery barrage ever experienced in North America, Pickett’s Charge, Armistead’s piercing the Union lines and reaching the “High Water Mark of the Confederacy”, and the musket shots that felled him. She also explains the “best friend” relationship of Armistead and Hancock prior to the Civil War.

I found the Interlude to be extremely effective. Its detailed, specific “here are the facts” approach was a stark contrast to the mystical, ambiguous feel of the rest of the play. It provided an excellent way to communicate to an audience unfamiliar with the background of the battle all the necessary information to explain the context of the overall story.

I’d like to learn more about the function of the Interlude in other Noh plays; does it always fill in enough of the missing pieces to permit the audience to focus on the deeper levels implied by the primary Noh drama? The use of the Docent worked well in this particular play. Could the Chorus fulfill a similar role?

In the concluding act the Groundskeeper returns, revealed as Armistead’s ghost, in full Confederate dress uniform. He relates the story of his early career, his friendship with Hancock, the ultimate battle, and his mortal passing. He begs the Veteran for information on Hancock’s reaction to learning of his death and is disappointed to learn there is no record of it. He then leaves, doomed to an eternal battle.

In the script for the play, the Veteran then removes the watch from his pocket, deposits it on the battlefield, gives a final salute, and leaves. During rehearsal the cast and director made an interesting change. Armistead’s black felt hat is remaining on the stage. The Veteran lays the watch beside it and then removes his beret, folds it carefully, and places it there as well. This display of respect seems more appropriate than the salute would have been. One hopes this satisfies the Ghost’s desire for forgiveness.

The troupe is still experimenting with this ending. In their second performance, at Bucknell University, the Veteran retained the watch and left only his beret. The philosophical implications of the ending are significant. I was particularly impressed with the careful way the Veteran folded his beret before placing it by Armistead’s hat, clearly echoing the respectful way a color guard folds the American flag at the burial of a veteran.

In both acts the eight-person mixed Chorus is used effectively to supplement the dialogue between the waki and the shite. This is another powerful characteristic of Noh theater, as it enables the two principal characters to communicate naturally, with no requirement that they fill in the details just to inform the audience.

Noh theater seems to be part of the modern minimalist tradition, despite preceding it by many centuries. Compared to other theatrical forms it is sparse and “stripped to the bare essentials”. Those readers of this column who are complaining about my wordiness will be surprised that I even know the term, let alone the principles that define the concept.

The consequence of this minimalism is the removal of distractions, permitting (forcing?) the viewer to concentrate on the deeper meanings of the work. At the lowest level “Gettysburg” is a beautiful tale of the triumph of dedication to cause, over friendship. But it goes so much deeper, exploring courage, honor, duty, guilt, redemption, and reconciliation, while also questioning much broader issues – preservation of the Union, states’ rights, slavery, legacy, and even immortality. And it does this admirably, a credit to the genre and to the playwright.

I was impressed with the playwright’s incorporation of classic quotations from other writers into her script. William Faulkner’s novel “Requiem for a Nun” provides a perfect example, "The past is never dead. It's not even past." This concept is particularly appropriate for a genre in which the past and the present are regularly merged by the appearance of a ghost from earlier days, once again demonstrating the power of this unique form of expression.

I had the opportunity to witness the post-performance discussion of the play by its participants and several Noh scholars who were in its audience. Noh theater is highly formalized; adapting it to a well-documented, classic American story raises numerous questions.

The back wall of a Noh stage always has a standardized painting of a pine tree, “Yogo no matsu”, based on an actual tree at the Kasuga Shrine in Nara. For “Gettysburg” the producers chose a “witness tree” from Gettysburg as the backdrop and depicted it on three hanging scrolls (a triptych consisting of three kakejiku). Noh purists questioned this decision.

The actual tree depicted on the backdrop is a white oak at Devil’s Den that was already a mature tree in 1863; hence, a “witness tree”. The tree depiction is perfectly suitable for the play as presented. However, as a Civil War/Gettysburg purist (nit-picker?) I would have preferred a backdrop depicting the “copse of trees” that was the focal point for the Confederate assault and is very close to the spot where Armistead fell.

The traditional Noh stage is square with a gazebo-type roof supported by sturdy posts at each of its four corners. For this production the posts were represented by weathered fence posts of the kind that are everywhere in the Battlefield today. The traditional bridge entryway from the left was represented by a rustic split rail fence. Both modifications made sense to me, as they communicated well the Gettysburg environment.

Costuming was also controversial. Typically Noh actors wear boldly patterned, multi-layered, and voluminous costumes. In contrast the “Gettysburg” actors’ costumes adhered closely to authenticity. When General Armistead’s ghost appeared, he was dressed in the uniform of a Confederate general, a costume that would have satisfied the most particular re-enactor. I applaud that decision, although I respect the Noh purists who question it.

And then there is the question of music. A traditional Noh play uses two traditional percussion instruments and a flute, supplemented by an all-male chorus. Composer David Crandall chose to replace the flute with a violin and a harmonica and to utilize a mixed chorus, in an effort to create “a new musical idiom that merges Noh chant with Western harmony. This too seemed successful to this unsophisticated member of the audience.

An interesting comment from someone in the audience regarding the substitution of the violin and harmonica for the flute was that these two instruments seemed more appropriate for the development of a poignant mood. This comment was refuted by an Asian lady in the audience who considered it a cultural difference; in Japan the sound of the flute is perceived to connote poignancy.

I found this to be amusing. My recollection of flutes in Japan in the 1950s was the sound of the flute played by the soba street vendor late at night as he attempted to sell the last of his noodles. To me the Japanese flute is a call to gastronomy rather than poignancy.

It is easy to understand the position of the Noh purists. However, in my case, these deviations from established Japanese traditions have enabled me, for the first time, to appreciate the power and effectiveness of all the rigor and nuances of the form. I may even tackle another traditional Noh play, in Japanese!

The rigor of the Noh format is supplemented by numerous clues, obvious only to native Japanese viewers and Noh scholars, which facilitate comprehension. These include masks, intricate details on the costumes, restrained physical gestures by the actors, props, and the voice of the chanting. This combination automatically eliminates distractions and permits the audience to concentrate on higher levels of meaning in the dialogue.

In summary, I am grateful for having had the opportunity to participate in this event. I hope that the repertory company is able to present this play many more times and that each audience includes someone who profits from it as much as I have.

Oyler Brothers, Barn Builders September 19, 2019

September 19, 2019

Oyler Brothers, Barn Builders

Although the purpose of our trip to Gettysburg was focused on the battle itself and Lewis Armistead’s participation in it, it was easy for me to get distracted by other interests. The first distraction came before we even reached the village. As we came in toward town on the Chambersburg Road we passed an impressive stone barn to the south of the highway. Elizabeth promptly reported, “McPherson’s Barn”.

I was aware of McPherson’s Barn and its significance in the first day’s battle. Our beloved Company D and the rest of the 149^th Pennsylvania Regiment were heavily involved in action adjacent to it. In John Nesbit’s fine “General History of Company D” he reports that Company D’s position was “formed in front of the McPherson farm buildings on the Chambersburg pike”. What I hadn’t realized was that the McPherson Barn was a classic stone Pennsylvania bank barn.

Also known as a “Sweitzer” barn from its origin in Switzerland, the Pennsylvania bank barn is a unique design. Ideally it is built on a side hill with access to the first floor for horses and cattle and on the second floor, in the rear, for wagon loads of hay. According to Eric Sloane in “Age of Barns” the first floor was divided into thirds – stalls for horses on one side, stalls for cattle and oxen against the other wall, and a general-purpose space in the middle.

The second floor was also subdivided into thirds. The middle bay was the threshing bay, the place where the farmer could flail bundles of wheat, separating the grain from the stalks (straw). The outer two bays were used for storing hay unloaded from wagons. Frequently a partial third floor, the loft, would be installed to provide additional storage space for hay. Bank barns were large; the McPherson barn has a footprint of forty feet by sixty feet, and is about sixty feet high from the first floor to the ridge.

Another characteristic of the bank barn was the forebay, an extension of the second floor about eight feet long, over the entrance to the first floor. This provided weather protection over the area where the animals entered and left the barn. Typically the forebay was of timber construction unlike the rest of the walls of a stone barn.

My interest in stone barns begins with the fact that, according to Oyler family legend, my great-great grandfather Andrew Oyler and his three brothers were stone masons in the Cumberland Valley in the early 1800s, specializing in building stone barns. That’s as much as we know about them, but is enough to explain my fascination with designing and building structures.

Family lore also reports that the four brothers were exceedingly stubborn and could never decide which one of them was “boss”. This they resolved by each starting a different corner of the barn and building his own one fourth of it. Probably far-fetched, but still a good story.

Intrigued with the idea that McPherson’s Barn might be an Oyler barn, when we went to the Gettysburg National Military Park Visitor Center I took the opportunity to ask the Ranger at the Information Desk if he knew when McPherson’s Barn was constructed. His curt reply was, “In the 1840s, I would guess”. My equally curt reply was, “I wasn’t looking for a guess”. “Well, the property was developed in the 1840s”. “Thank you, that’s more like what I expected from an historian”.

Further investigation has determined that the barn is currently leased to a farmer and is still in use. I have also learned that it and the Rose Barn, a similar stone barn on the Emmitsburg Road, were both built around 1811. The Rose Barn was destroyed by a fire in 1910 and demolished a few years later; nonetheless there are photographs and drawings documenting it.

The principal difference between stone barns and conventional timber beam-and-post barns is the construction sequence. We are familiar with the “barn-raising” concept where timber bents are preassembled beforehand and, on the given day, all the neighbors show up to hoist them in place and then to add floor beams and girders to tie them together. A big show that is impressive but leaves a large amount of non-glamorous work to be done adding studs and girts and siding to enclose the barn.

In contrast, building a stone barn reverses the sequence – the outer walls are constructed first, and interior posts and floors added later. In both cases the roof comes last; its design and erection is identical for both types. Both designs require a row of 6 by 6 timber posts ten feet apart directly under the ridge of the roof, and transverse 12 by 12 timbers to support the second floor on top of them. The transverse timbers tie into the stone walls either in pockets in the walls or on corbels extending from the walls.

The source of the stones is an interesting question. Franklin County farmers had no difficulty finding stones in the early 1800s; their fields were lined with piles of stone removing during plowing, serving as fences. These “fences” are prevalent throughout the Gettysburg battlefield. In addition to fieldstone, there were limestone and sandstone quarries in the area in those days. From the variety of color in the McPherson and Rose barns I suspect that both were sandstone.

The large smoothly dressed blocks at the corners probably came from a quarry; most of the rest may well have been fieldstone. The ideal stone for this use would have two roughly parallel faces about twelve inches apart, be about four inches thick, and from six to twelve inches long. A skillful stonecutter could easily produce such a block with a mallet and chisel. Examination of the stonework in both barns shows a wide variety of size and shape.

Based on current data for productivity of stonemasons and the typical size of these barns, it appears that four masons could produce the necessary work in about two months. Perhaps the Oyler brothers could do four or five barns a year. Consequently they probably built between fifty and one hundred barns in the first two decades of the nineteenth century. We are told they built barns in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Since Gettysburg is closer to Andrew Oyler’s home base near Chambersburg than Maryland, it is reasonable to consider the McPherson and Rose barns as candidates to be their products.

Whoever they are, the masons who actually built the McPherson barn should feel good about the fact that their craftsmanship has survived two centuries and is still the basis for a functioning barn today. That is an impressive legacy. In this area we are fortunate that Woodville Plantation, the Walker-Ewing Log House, and the Oliver Miller Homestead have survived. How much of what we build today will still be in use in 2219?