By; Gino Mahofski, La Nostra Voce

Our ‘40s neighborhood tales have taken us through the towering billboards, the adventures at Popeye’s Beach, pickup games and mischief at the West End Bridge and run-ins with the milk, rag, ice and coal men. Those formative boyhood years in Pittsburgh won’t be forgotten; however, the teenage years of the late ‘50s brought with it a tough stretch of peer pressure in an already tough neighborhood.

Sports were still front and center, but they became more competitive. Jackson’s Shoe Shine Shop housed pool tables and pinball, and it became our new hangout. We also had the neighborhood’s Hippodrome movie theater (double features, a cartoon and a newsreel) and Blue Bell and Plaza restaurants, where, piled into one booth, we shared French fries and gravy.

Street fighting and general roughhousing were commonplace. Girls and alcohol inched their way into play. Having fun seemed to take over.  Some decisions attracted law enforcement, and some stories can’t be told. (Acting as a peacemaker during some violent interactions was good for everyone.)

A Streetcar Named Dynamite

Railroad dynamite capes were a warning device to alert engineers of a slow-moving train ahead. They were placed on the track, and sometimes a cap would fall to the ground without exploding. They were easily found by passers-by who were walking the tracks.

A scary situation came when someone placed a live railroad dynamite cap onto the local streetcar track. Of course, when the streetcar rolled over the cap, it exploded. The loud boom and heavy cloud of smoke surprised everyone in a single city block area.

This article first appeared in La Nostra Voce, ISDA’s 28-page monthly newspaper, which chronicles Italian life, culture and traditions. Subscribe today!

The power line on the streetcar was disabled and the car itself popped a few inches off of the ground. Thankfully, there were no passengers. The conductor, wondering what had happened, exited without problems. Heavy smoke followed him out of the open door.

He rebooked the detached power line, the smoke cleared and he was on his way. Pittsburgh Railways handled this event as if it were another day at the office. No one ever knew who did the deed except the perpetrators. No names mentioned.

Returning to our football activities, we had another undefeated year.  We were now playing light heavyweight ball. Two of our games included contests against hardened prisoners jailed at the Western Penitentiary and Allegheny County Workhouse. These correctional institutions held the worst criminals in the state. Of course, they could never be a visiting team.

The Hooligans of D.C.

Rich M., Butchie, Rich G. and I traveled to Washington D.C. to visit a sick family member. While in route we passed by an ocean beachfront. There are no oceans in Pittsburgh, so we made our way to the shore. I remember how very dark it was. We could not resist a short swim. Rich M. got bit or stung by something in the water. He became very sick and swollen, and we rushed him to the local hospital.

At the time we were either 15 or 16 years old. It was early in the a.m.; we waited in the emergency room while he was treated.

I guess this episode was not unusual at the hospital. It was your typical jellyfish sting. No questions asked. We walked to the car and continued on our trip. We were traveling in Rich M.’s new 1958 Black Chevy. I guess “just another early morning at the emergency room.”

Before returning home, we stopped at the U.S. Capital. Another site we had never laid eyes on before. What mischief could we get into here?

Before you know it, I was being lifted up to a crystal chandelier and I grabbed two tear drops. I fell to the floor, and I don’t know how this went unnoticed.

We exited the grounds and walked across a ballfield. We removed our shirts to get a few sun rays.

The Washington D.C. Police were on the spot. We knew we were not sighted at the chandelier, but we were interrupting a softball game.  Receiving a warning for not wearing our shirts, we decided it was a great time to return to Pittsburgh.

Taking the High Road

My famiglia, Educazione Cattolico, and the introduction of “Pat” — the redheaded beauty from Woods Run — steered me away from the influence of my peers. (Many of whom saw the inside of those previously mentioned correctional institutions.)

Manchester, on the north side of Pittsburgh, gave me insight into activities most people never experience. Surely, it helped me become a decorated Pittsburgh police officer and respected private investigator.