If, after “Ruanaidh,” you still can’t get enough of Art Rooney lore, there is further confirmation of his lovable eccentricities in the Creative Nonfiction Foundation’s latest publication, Pittsburgh in Words. This time the author is Kathleen Rooney Mara, the Chief’s granddaughter, who revisits the ghosts of 940 N. Lincoln Ave., and recalls a memorable trip to Quebec as one of Rooney’s “rosary road warriors” in 1975. It has all the humor, pathos and nostalgia of her Uncle Art’s book and, curiously, the same feeling of inadequacy, as though no Rooney could ever live up to the example set by her “Nonno.” Both authors should give themselves more credit for the talents they possess. Reading their writings, I laughed, I cried -- well, chortled and teared up -- and I’m a pretty tough nut to crack.
The same insecurities that seem to plague the Rooneys are expressed with regard to their hometown in another of the volume’s selections. Anjali Sachdeva, in “Pod City,” observes, “Today, Pittsburghers appear highly suspicious of progress, as though we’ve passed through a magical era that divides the city’s history into before and after: some generations looked forward to it, a few lucky souls lived through it and the rest of us look back on it.”
Fortunately, most of the seven essays comprising Pittsburgh in Words are celebratory (being the foundation’s contribution to the city’s 250th anniversary), and , as editor Lee Gutkind notes, “convey not only Pittsburgh’s rich and complicated history, but also the excitement of the present as the city struggles to reinvent itself.”
I quite enjoyed Elena Passarello’s “Double Joy: Myron Cope and the Pittsburgh Sound,” which , while paying tribute to the proudly distinctive/grating intonations of the late writer and broadcaster, revels in the enjoyment of words and sounds; illustrating how language can excite, evoke, define and inspire -- even when it isn’t beautiful. A terrific metaphor for Pittsburgh.
“Rowing Through the Ruins,” by Erin Tocknell, is easily the most lyrical essay; as disciplined, smooth, beautiful and triumphant as the elusive “run” her crew works to achieve.
Missy Raterman’s personal epiphany doesn’t arrive on one of Pittsburgh’s rivers, but inside a giant puppet costume, as documented in “In Pursuit of Puppets: A Pittsburgh Romance;” proving that the city has a place for all comers, even “creative, off-kilter, exploration-bound persons.” (Take that, Richard Florida!)
Mark Kramer’s contribution, “Immigrant Stories,” relates the efforts of Ethiopians in Pittsburgh, trying to make a place for themselves as a tiny minority in a city where they don’t fit “the romanticized immigrant mold.” It’s a highly descriptive piece, and a fantastic advertisement for Tana Ethiopian Cuisine in East Liberty.
Finally, please take note of Jeremy Smerd’s account of his family’s industrial hardware business, M. Berger Co., in the essay of the same name. Although it is more about fathers and sons, giving and receiving, duty and honor and sacrifice and resignation than it is about merchandising, the story of the company itself is a good one, even without the family baggage. It well illustrates the vision and commercial idealism typical of Jewish merchants throughout Pittsburgh’s history. If you don’t believe me, check out Steel City Jews: A History of Pittsburgh and its Jewish Community, 1840-1915, by Barbara Burstin, which I’ll be reviewing in the spring issue of Pittsburgh Quarterly …
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