Category: default || By jt3y

To the guy in the black Pontiac sedan with the out-of-state plates, I apologize, but I have an explanation.

I was on Forbes Avenue in the Oakland part of Picksberg Thursday night, when I heard someone calling me. For all I know, it could have been Bruce Bedspring himself. "Excuse me?" he said again. "Hello? Excuse me?" I tried to ignore him, because I knew what he was going to ask for.

Finally, he pulled alongside me and I couldn't avoid making eye contact. "Hi," he said. "Can you tell me how to get to Darragh Street? Is it somewhere around here?"

My mind raced. Is that the one up by Presbyterian hospital? No, that's O'Hara Street. Or is O'Hara Street the one in front of Western Psych? Which one is "Cardiac Hill" --- DeSoto Street? You know, in East McKeesport, it's spelled DeSota Street. They stopped making DeSotos in 1960, and the official announcement was made during the Pittsburgh Auto Show --- which didn't much for the morale of the people working the DeSoto exhibit, I'm sure ...

"I'm sorry," I said, "I don't know where it is. Sorry." He gave me a look that spoke volumes: Stupid jerk, lives in this town and can't even give me some simple directions. He drove about a block up the street, and I saw him stop in front of another pedestrian and ask them the same question. I crossed to the other side of the street to avoid him.

There are two reasons I hate giving directions. First, I can count on one hand the times that I've actually gotten useful directions from a stranger. If you're really, really lucky, and you're in a city neighborhood, you might spot a cop, a firefighter or a mail carrier, who might actually know where a street is. Nine times out of 10, however, all you find are slack-jawed yokels who mutter and point vaguely; follow their directions, and you are doomed to get seriously lost.

If you're in a residential neighborhood, it's even worse. Slow to a stop in front of someone's house and lean out the window, and they instantly think you're a child molester.

Time was you could stop at a service station and ask directions, but nowadays you're more likely to find a gum-cracking 18-year-old behind the counter who's more interested in talking on his or her cell phone than giving directions, much less selling gas, cigarettes and Doritos. For that reason, I always carry a map when I'm traveling.

The second problem is that when I'm walking around, I am that slack-jawed yokel. Stop me in Our Fair City or any of its immediate suburbs, and I might be able to give you directions. Unfortunately, they're going to be of the caliber of "take a right just past the place where R&J Furniture used to be, and then hang another right onto Walnut, and then make the immediate left onto Shaw Avenue ... or is that Sixth? I think it's Shaw. You'll see Stickrath's old place."

I've done this a few times, and you can watch the driver's eyes glaze over as they realize they've inadvertently struck up a conversation with a complete nut. Pretty soon, he's saying, "Thank you! Thank you!" and letting the car drift forward, because he's trying to escape.

So my direction-giving ability isn't great to begin with. It drops exponentially the further you get from the intersection of the Monongahela and Youghiogheny rivers. Not long ago, I was standing in front of Falce's Restaurant on Main Street in Munhall, waiting for a friend of mine so that we could eat breakfast, when a young couple with two children in tow approached me. They were carrying a package.

"Excuse me, please," said the woman, in a thick Russian accent. "Tell me, please, where is post office?"

Post office? Erg. I immediately thought of two: The one in Whitaker and the big one on Eighth Avenue in Homestead. I wasn't hardly going to send these people on a wild goose chase to Whitaker. They might take a wrong turn on one of the dead-end back streets and never be heard from again. But surely they could find Eighth Avenue, right?

"Do you have a car?" I asked. They did.

With great difficulty, I explained how they could go down Main Street onto West Street, around the old Homestead Hospital, then down to the bottom of the hill and onto Eighth Avenue. They were just leaving as my friend walked up.

He and I went inside Falce's. "Who were those people?" he said.

"They needed directions to the post office," I said. "I think I got them hopelessly lost."

"Why? Where did you send them?" he asked.

"The post office. Down on Eighth Avenue."

He laughed. "You dummy," he said, "there's a post office two blocks up the street here, across from the fire hall."

For all I know, that couple is currently wandering around Duck Hollow, saying, "We should have stayed in Russia."

...

Meanwhile, Kaufmann's is dead, and I don't feel so good myself. Unless you've been living under a rock, you know by now that Federated Department Stores has confirmed that it's dumping the name "Kaufmann's" from its Pittsburgh-area stores once it completes its takeover of the May Company.

If misery truly loves company, than you'll be happy to know that they're just as distraught in Boston, where Filene's is being nuked (but not Filene's Basement, which is owned by someone else now); in St. Louis, which is losing Famous-Barr; in Washington and Baltimore, which will say goodbye to Hecht's, and elsewhere around the country. All of those storied names are being replaced by Macy's. Two Mon-Yough area Kaufmann's stores --- Monroeville Mall and South Hills Village --- are slated to close as well.

All of Pittsburgh's great department store names --- Gimbels (originally Kaufmann & Baer), Joseph Horne Co., Frank & Seder, Rosenbaum's, and now, Kaufmann's --- will thus be gone.

There's a bitter irony in that Pittsburgh is finally experiencing what Our Fair City (Cox's, Jaison's, Immel's, anyone?) and Greensburg (Troutman's and Royer's) went through in the '80s, and Washington (Lang's) went through in the '90s. (Rick Stouffer had a nice overview of Kaufmann's history in the Trib several months ago.)

I was recently given an envelope full of never-before-seen photos of Cox's by an anonymous contributor. In honor of Kaufmann's demise, they're coming to Tube City Online; check Monday's Almanac for details.

...

To Do This Weekend: If you missed Bruce Bedspring (and can't wait for the Dead-Enders), make sure to see his friends Joe Grushecky and The Houserockers tomorrow night at Riverfront Park, Water Street between Fifth and Ninth Avenues ... Also, Elizabeth Riverfest begins with a parade through the borough tonight at 6. Food, games and craft booths open at 4 p.m. tomorrow. ... Chalfant Borough presents a free outdoor screening of "Shrek 2" at Serviceman Park, starting at 9 tonight. Kids receive free popcorn.