Pittsburgh day 1 in photos
09/29/2007 11:53 PM
I came to Pittsburgh to walk in the footsteps of Josh
Gibson, the hero of my opera, and to meet with a
scholar and a great grandson. It's been an
overwhelmingly rich and productive trip so far, and I
wish I had the brain cells and energy to formulate
one of those really juicy blog posts I sometimes
write. But if a picture's worth a thousand
words...
Started my day with a terrific meeting with the preeminent scholar of black sports in Pittsburgh (and one of the major Negro League scholars anywhere), Rob Ruck. Rob's book Sandlot Seasons has been hugely important in developing the plot of the Summer King. He was kind enough to look through some of my materials, give me historical feedback, and even help me work through several thorny plot points. But I forgot to get a photo with him! So here's the lovely inscription he gave me.
At Rob's advice, I then moved on to the nearby Carnegie Library, where I combed through folders on the Pittsburgh Crawfords, the Homestead Grays and Josh Gibson. But before long I switched over to the microfilm machine and searched through some old issues of the Pittsburgh Courier, making some photocopies along the way. How to describe the thrill of seeing all these wonderful players and teams and personalities coming to life, Saturday after Saturday, jumping off the screen with all their vividness and sudden incontrovertible realness. I could have spent all weekend.
Struggling with my map, I then intended to move on to the Heinz Historical Center, where I was hoping to investigate the Western Pennsylvania Sport Museum. I was running low on time, though, and couldn't resist the draw of the Hill District, where the Crawfords used to play, and the Crawford Grille was the center of the universe. You can imagine I almost drove off the road when I saw this marker. I parked the car and ran over to check out Ammons Field (which has officially been renamed "Josh Gibson Field," although I didn't know it then.)
Can you stand it? The field's been moved, reconfigured, and will soon be renovated all over again, thanks to the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Josh Gibson Foundation. But on this patch of earth, Josh Gibson first played ball with the Pittsburgh Crawfords in 1929. This is the air he gazed upon from his catcher's crouch. There wasn't a soul in sight as I stood in front of the backstop, listening for ghosts and taking in the spectacular sunny afternoon.
After going to the Homestead Grays for a few years, Josh came back to the now-professionalized Pittsburgh Crawfords in 1932. The team was owned by famed numbers man Gus Greenlee, who built the nation's finest black-owned stadium at the top of the Hill on Bedford Avenue. I went looking for the place (the stadium was torn down in 1938, and soon after replaced by projects). A man on a stoop saw me with my camera and pointedly asked me what I was doing. I explained about my pilgrimage, and I entered into some nice conversation. But he let me know "I'm not prejudiced, but you are a white guy, and up here that's unusual. People might get the wrong idea if you point that camera around without explaining what you're doing." Duly chastened, I climbed a little further up the hill to this patch of grass, right next to the projects, where several people told me Greenlee Field once stood. Some of the finest baseball ever played happened under this sky, atop this soil.
This is the site, but I don't think the actual building, of Gus Greenlee's second version of the Crawford Grille. This is not the location of scene 4 of my opera. That happens in the original Crawford Grille, which is now covered over by the Mellon Center, a great arena that I gather more or less wrecked the Lower Hill District. Still, on this quiet, almost deserted corner, much great jazz and baseball chatter must certainly have taken place. The building's for sale now, and I wish someone would bring it - and the too-quiet surrounding neighborhood - back to life.
The numbers game lives on! But I think this version is legal (Gus Greenlee's wasn't).
In the afternoon I was the guest of Sean Gibson - Josh's great grandson and the director of the Josh Gibson Foundation - at a tailgate party put on by the Amen Corner, a venerable Pittsburgh organization (so-named, by the way, not due to any religious affiliation (this is not Rick Santorum's Amen Corner) but because they used to, and probably still do, end all their meetings by saying "Amen.") What an incredibly gracious and generous host Sean was - and what an absolute thrill it was for me to talk with him about his work and his family, and a little of my work too. This party took place in a parking field outside of PNC Ballpark, where a Pirates game would soon be played.
Here's Sean signing a shirt won by a very lucky raffle winner. It's a replica of Josh Gibson's shirt from Vera Cruz Mexico, where he played the entire 1941 season. This is now available in a collaborative production by Nike and the Josh Gibson Foundation. It's not just because a scene from the opera happens in Vera Cruz that I absolutely MUST have this jersey! Wait until you see it on me.
Here I am with the two illustrious Gibsons at the entrance to PNC Park, where they've mounted a very nice tribute to the Negro Leagues. Thanks to Sean I even got a private screening of an informative film (co-created by the same Rob Ruck who appeared early in this photo essay about Gus Geenlee and Cum Posey and their baseball legacies in Pittsburgh.
Okay people, how well do you know me? One of these players is a major character in my opera. One is my cat. And one is none of the above. Submit your guesses via the comments field and win yourself an undisclosed prize.
Oh my word I'm exhausted after all that! Good thing that, thanks to Priceline, I get to come home to one of the best hotels in town, right in the center of Downtown. Tomorrow I go to Homestead, the Heinz Center, and Josh's grave. Oh, and then Maine. Nuff said for now.
Continue to Pittsburgh trip part 2.
Started my day with a terrific meeting with the preeminent scholar of black sports in Pittsburgh (and one of the major Negro League scholars anywhere), Rob Ruck. Rob's book Sandlot Seasons has been hugely important in developing the plot of the Summer King. He was kind enough to look through some of my materials, give me historical feedback, and even help me work through several thorny plot points. But I forgot to get a photo with him! So here's the lovely inscription he gave me.
At Rob's advice, I then moved on to the nearby Carnegie Library, where I combed through folders on the Pittsburgh Crawfords, the Homestead Grays and Josh Gibson. But before long I switched over to the microfilm machine and searched through some old issues of the Pittsburgh Courier, making some photocopies along the way. How to describe the thrill of seeing all these wonderful players and teams and personalities coming to life, Saturday after Saturday, jumping off the screen with all their vividness and sudden incontrovertible realness. I could have spent all weekend.
Struggling with my map, I then intended to move on to the Heinz Historical Center, where I was hoping to investigate the Western Pennsylvania Sport Museum. I was running low on time, though, and couldn't resist the draw of the Hill District, where the Crawfords used to play, and the Crawford Grille was the center of the universe. You can imagine I almost drove off the road when I saw this marker. I parked the car and ran over to check out Ammons Field (which has officially been renamed "Josh Gibson Field," although I didn't know it then.)
Can you stand it? The field's been moved, reconfigured, and will soon be renovated all over again, thanks to the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Josh Gibson Foundation. But on this patch of earth, Josh Gibson first played ball with the Pittsburgh Crawfords in 1929. This is the air he gazed upon from his catcher's crouch. There wasn't a soul in sight as I stood in front of the backstop, listening for ghosts and taking in the spectacular sunny afternoon.
After going to the Homestead Grays for a few years, Josh came back to the now-professionalized Pittsburgh Crawfords in 1932. The team was owned by famed numbers man Gus Greenlee, who built the nation's finest black-owned stadium at the top of the Hill on Bedford Avenue. I went looking for the place (the stadium was torn down in 1938, and soon after replaced by projects). A man on a stoop saw me with my camera and pointedly asked me what I was doing. I explained about my pilgrimage, and I entered into some nice conversation. But he let me know "I'm not prejudiced, but you are a white guy, and up here that's unusual. People might get the wrong idea if you point that camera around without explaining what you're doing." Duly chastened, I climbed a little further up the hill to this patch of grass, right next to the projects, where several people told me Greenlee Field once stood. Some of the finest baseball ever played happened under this sky, atop this soil.
This is the site, but I don't think the actual building, of Gus Greenlee's second version of the Crawford Grille. This is not the location of scene 4 of my opera. That happens in the original Crawford Grille, which is now covered over by the Mellon Center, a great arena that I gather more or less wrecked the Lower Hill District. Still, on this quiet, almost deserted corner, much great jazz and baseball chatter must certainly have taken place. The building's for sale now, and I wish someone would bring it - and the too-quiet surrounding neighborhood - back to life.
The numbers game lives on! But I think this version is legal (Gus Greenlee's wasn't).
In the afternoon I was the guest of Sean Gibson - Josh's great grandson and the director of the Josh Gibson Foundation - at a tailgate party put on by the Amen Corner, a venerable Pittsburgh organization (so-named, by the way, not due to any religious affiliation (this is not Rick Santorum's Amen Corner) but because they used to, and probably still do, end all their meetings by saying "Amen.") What an incredibly gracious and generous host Sean was - and what an absolute thrill it was for me to talk with him about his work and his family, and a little of my work too. This party took place in a parking field outside of PNC Ballpark, where a Pirates game would soon be played.
Here's Sean signing a shirt won by a very lucky raffle winner. It's a replica of Josh Gibson's shirt from Vera Cruz Mexico, where he played the entire 1941 season. This is now available in a collaborative production by Nike and the Josh Gibson Foundation. It's not just because a scene from the opera happens in Vera Cruz that I absolutely MUST have this jersey! Wait until you see it on me.
Here I am with the two illustrious Gibsons at the entrance to PNC Park, where they've mounted a very nice tribute to the Negro Leagues. Thanks to Sean I even got a private screening of an informative film (co-created by the same Rob Ruck who appeared early in this photo essay about Gus Geenlee and Cum Posey and their baseball legacies in Pittsburgh.
Okay people, how well do you know me? One of these players is a major character in my opera. One is my cat. And one is none of the above. Submit your guesses via the comments field and win yourself an undisclosed prize.
Oh my word I'm exhausted after all that! Good thing that, thanks to Priceline, I get to come home to one of the best hotels in town, right in the center of Downtown. Tomorrow I go to Homestead, the Heinz Center, and Josh's grave. Oh, and then Maine. Nuff said for now.
Continue to Pittsburgh trip part 2.
|