My grandmother, Margaret Cerovski (nee Revay), arrived in the U.S. from Czechoslovakia in September 1920 (she celebrated her 21st birthday while crossing the Atlantic). After being processed at Ellis Island she continued on to Pittsburgh where her brother Michael lived (their 11 brothers and sisters remained back in the "old country").
After she and my grandfather (from the Croatian region of Yugoslavia) became citizens in the 1930's Grandma thought about visiting her family because her mother was in declining health. She also wanted to take my mother and uncle, who were teenagers, with her. However, Czechoslovakia was being slowly partitioned by Nazi Germany and Slovakia, the eastern region of the country my grandmother was from, was agitating for its independence. For these reasons my grandfather wouldn't allow Grandma to take Mom and Uncle George. And then today in 1939 Czechoslovakia's beleaguered president (pictured with Hitler) signed over the country to Hitler and the thought of Grandma even visiting by herself ended. WWII would begin six months later.
Although she never visited her homeland Grandma kept in touch with her brothers and sisters. She was the middle child but managed to outlive all of her siblings and died in 1999 just six months shy of her 100th birthday.
February 22, 1987 was an unusually social Sunday for me. I spent the early part of the afternoon at a brunch in the West Village at the apartment of my friend Marc, a fellow I dated briefly the previous year. (We met when he walked up behind me at Uncle Charlie's bar and snapped the back of my suspenders). After brunch a group of us went to a mid-afternoon tea dance at a club in Chelsea called Tracks. From there I taxied down to SoHo to attend a 5th anniversary celebration for GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) held at the Puck Building. That was followed by dinner at Taste of Tokyo and then a brief visit to the club Palladium on 14th St.
I didn't get home until late and when I sat down to watch the 11:00 news I was shocked to learn of Andy Warhol's death. He died from complications after having simple gallbladder surgery. He was just 58. (Somewhat overlooked was the death on the same day of talk show host David Susskind.)
I felt somewhat of a connection to Warhol because, like me, he grew up in Pittsburgh and was of Slovakian parentage (my maternal grandmother was born in Slovakia). Seven years after his death, while I was in Pittsburgh to attend my father's funeral, I visited the newly opened Warhol Museum (pictured, left) with my brother, his fiance and my two young nephews. It was ironic that the museum (at the time the only one in the U.S. devoted to one artist) was here because Warhol apparently was ashamed of his Pittsburgh roots.
(Many books are available about Warhol's life and his body of work. One in particular that got a lot of press when it was published in the early '90's was The Andy Warhol Diaries.)
I was 11 years old at the time and living in Pittsburgh - and greatly annoyed that we got hardly a snowflake from this snowstorm. Meteorology was a new interest of mine and I didn't yet understand the dynamics of weather systems, e.g. East Coast storms often don't affect Western Pennsylvania because the Appalachian Mountains act as a barrier. (As was the case with the post-Christmas blizzard in 2010.) The 15.3" that fell on New York beginning Sunday, February 9, 1969 brought the city to a virtual standstill for a number of days. It was front page news in the Pittsburgh papers, and I eyed the photos enviously. (Like the one to the right showing mostly foot traffic on 2nd Ave. near 45th St.)
It became known as the "Lindsay snowstorm" because New York's mayor John Lindsay (pictured, left) was blamed for not getting streets plowed quickly enough, especially in the boro of Queens. It nearly cost him re-election later that year, but he won running as an independent. (10 years later a series of crippling snowstorms in Chicago was largely responsible for the defeat of its mayor.) At the time it was the City's tenth biggest snowstorm - since then eight subsequent storms have had larger accumulations.
This snowstorm was the inspiration for two episodes of the sitcom That Girl (starring Marlo Thomas). In a two-part storyline Ann and boyfriend Donald were stranded at JFK by the snowstorm after accompanying her parents to the airport. This threatened a Broadway audition Ann had later that day - which she eventually did over the phone. Later, Donald, a writer for the fictional Newsview Magazine, wrote a story about Ann's experience. These episodes aired on ABC on October 30 and November 6, 1969. (They are from the show's fourth season which is available on Amazon.)
Until 1972 my hometown Pittsburgh Steelers had a long history of losing. This season, however, they finished with a solid winning record (11-3) and made it to the playoffs. On Saturday, December 23 the Oakland Raiders were in Pittsburgh playing the Steelers in the AFC Divisional Playoffs. That afternoon, while the game was being played, I was out collecting payment from customers of my morning paper route (the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette). Since it was Christmas, instead of the usual 25-50 cent tips, I was collecting tips in the stratospheric $2 to $5 range.
When I returned home the game was on the radio, and it didn't look good as the Raiders had a 7-6 lead very late in the game. Then in a flash the tables were turned as a pass by Steelers quarterback Terry Bradshaw bounced off the intended receiver and landed in the hands of Steelers rookie (and NFL Rookie of the Year) Franco Harris just before it reached the ground. He scooped it up and scooted 60 yards for the game winning touchdown with less than 20 seconds remaining. However, it took five minutes before Harris' catch was confirmed by officials as a legitimate reception. It was even more confusing if you weren't watching on TV as was our case since the game was blacked out in Pittsburgh.
Even today it seems unbelievable that this catch happened. And although the Steelers season ended the following week when they lost to the undefeated Miami Dolphins, it was the beginning of the Steelers becoming one of the most successful and widely followed teams in the nation. (To immerse yourself fully in "Steelers Nation" lore the book The Good, The Bad & The Ugly Pittsburgh Steelersis a good starting point.)
It was early Saturday afternoon when I brought in the afternoon paper (Pittsburgh Press) from the front porch and saw the headline about a bridge disaster the previous night in nearby Point Pleasant, West Virginia. The Silver Bridge fell into the Ohio River during evening rush hour, killing 46. It still ranks as the nation's deadliest bridge collapse.
Although I was just 10 at the time the tragedy resonated for two reasons: 1) It was incongruous to my young brain that such a tragedy could occur at Christmastime and 2) Because of its famed three rivers Pittsburgh was a city of bridges and every Sunday we traveled over one (the Wind Gap Bridge) to pick up my grandmother for church. For some time after the Silver Bridge disaster I'd become nervous whenever we'd be stopped on the bridge because of traffic.
All disasters are unfortunate but those that occur during the Christmas season are particularly tragic. Some of the more high profile in the past 50 years include: 1960 - On 12/16 two planes collided over Staten Island killing 134; 1975 - A bomb exploded in a locker at LaGuardia Airport on 12/29 killing 11 and injuring 75; 1988 - Pan Am flight 103 bound for NYC exploded over Lockerbie, Scotland on 12/21 killing all 259 on board and 11 on the ground; 2004 - The great Indian Ocean tsunami (pictured) killed 230,000+ the day after Christmas. And another tragedy was added to this grim list yesterday in Newtown, Connecticut where 28 persons were shot to death at an elementary school, 20 of whom were children between the age of 5 and 10.
Many thanks to my mother for filling in for me to recount her memories of the day Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor, an act that drew the U.S. into World War II.
Sunday, December 7 was a sunny, but cold, early winter day in Pittsburgh. After going to morning Mass and having lunch Mom went visiting at a girlfriend's house where their socializing was interrupted by a news bulletin on the radio reporting on Japan's surprise aerial attack of the U.S. Navy base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii shortly after sunrise. Shortly afterward her friend Ginny's brother-in-law, who was home on military leave, received a call ordering him back to base immediately. (The book At Dawn We Slept is one of many on the subject of this sneak attack.)
Because Pittsburgh was one of the centers of U.S. military production there were fears about it being bombed as well. This led to regular blackout exercises whereby residents were required, upon hearing air-raid sirens, to switch off all lights and pull down window shades. The goal was to make streets and landmarks harder to pinpoint in the event enemy bombers were overhead. Mom's brother, my uncle George, was a senior in high school at the time and after graduating was inducted into the Marines and sent to Paradise Island for training. He then spent the next three years in the Pacific repairing planes. And Mom, then a junior in high school (her "sweet 16" birthday was the following week on December 14), helped with the war effort by distributing ration coupons. After she graduated in 1943 she got a job documenting and tracking supplies of ammunition being put on supply ships sailing to Europe.
Although it was a time of great worry Mom didn't recall feeling fearful but instead there was a sense of purpose and solidarity with neighbors and schoolmates as each made contributions to the war effort.
The day before Thanksgiving 1971 was a snowy one in the hills of Western Pennsylvania (about 4" fell). I was in the 9th grade at the time and my dad had gotten four tickets at work to tonight's Penguins hockey game at Pittsburgh's Civic Arena. I went with my older sister Linda, older brother Darrell (home for the holiday during his freshman year at Indiana University of PA) and a neighbor from down the street. The Penguins lost to Toronto 2-1 but it was an enjoyable outing nonetheless.
Walking home after getting off the bus we were playing around in the snow and throwing an occasional snowball. At one point I jerked my head to avoid one being thrown and my glasses flew off. After looking for them for some time with no luck I ran home to get a flashlight (Mom joined us). Finally, in the midst of our search a neighbor approached in his car and stopped when he saw our search party in the middle of the street. He stayed so we could look in the light cast by his high beams and shortly thereafter we found my glasses. We had been out in the cold for close to an hour.
Meanwhile, while we conducted our search another was about to unfold in the Pacific Northwest. A passenger named DB Cooper had hijacked a plane, demanded parachutes and $200,000 (about $1 million in today's $) and then jumped from the plane during a rainstorm into the wilderness north of Portland, Oregon. Although hijackings had become a hazard of air travel since the late 60's, the way this one was carried out made it unique. And although a bundle of deteriorated twenty-dollar bills was discovered in 1980, and traced back to those given him, Cooper himself was never found.
(The book D.B. Cooper: Dead or Alive? provides the full story of this mysterious man and his curious caper.) The following clip goes into greater detail about Cooper.
The assassination of President Kennedy is the first vivid memory I have of an historical event. I was six years old and in the First Grade at Fenton Elementary School in the Pittsburgh suburb of McKees Rocks. It was Friday afternoon and I had just returned to school after having lunch at home. My classmates and I waited for our teacher, Mrs. Follie, to arrive but for some unknown reason we waited an unusually long time for her (this was too good to be true!). Finally, she walked in and told us the news that President Kennedy had been shot and that we could go home.
It seemed fitting that the afternoon was overcast, which added to the somberness of my walk home (and Saturday would be dreary and rainy). Although I was aware this was an awful event I don't recall feeling any strong emotions. While waiting for my father to return from work I sat on the sofa in the living room and paged through my mother's December issue of Good Housekeeping that arrived in the mail earlier that afternoon. On the cover was a little girl holding a large Santa lollipop. Although its festive nature was incongruous with that day's tragedy, it was a nice escape for a young child.
Just two days later the nation witnessed the shooting death of accused assassin, 25-year-old Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV. It was just past noon and my family was eating Sunday lunch. The TV was on in the background in the living room because my father, a football fanatic, insisted on watching the NFL game that was being broadcast. The telecast was interrupted by coverage of Oswald being brought into police headquarters in Dallas. As he was being walked in, surrounded by detectives, a man named Jack Ruby jumped out of the crowd and shot Oswald in the stomach.
I didn’t see the shooting because my seat at the dinner table was obstructed by a wall that blocked my view. But I heard the commotion and saw the reaction of my parents. This was very likely the most shocking event ever seen on live TV until 9/11 when millions saw the second plane (United Flight 175) crash into the south tower of the World Trade Center.
Because of these events, for a long time I viewed Dallas (and Texas in general) as an evil place, not unlike enemy territory such as Red China, and it took a long time for me to shake this feeling.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about ten hurricanes and the memories I associated with each of them. In this post I've chosen to write of memories I connect with ten post-season baseball games over the past 40 years (not including the 1986 World Series, which I've written about in a previous post).
1969 World Series/Game 5/Mets vs. Baltimore (Oct. 16) - I was home from school (7th Grade) with a cold so I was able to watch the entire game. I wasn't rooting for the Mets because, despite winning 100 games in the regular season, in my eyes their rise was a fluke. (I felt the same when expansion teams like Florida, Arizona & Tampa Bay played in the World Series.) And I certainly didn't think they'd be able to prevail over the mighty Orioles (who had won 109 games), but not only did the Mets do it - but in just five games.
1971 World Series/Game 7/Pittsburgh vs. Baltimore (Oct. 17) - It was a Sunday afternoon when the Pirates won a 2-1 nail biter over the Orioles to win the World Series. My mother and I waited for the game to end before we drove my grandmother home, honking the car horn the entire way. (My dad, never a big Pirates fan watched the day's football games on our other TV.) We also put a big "Bucs Fever" sign in the living room window. Since I was too young to celebrate the Pirates' 1960 World Series victory over the Yankees this one was very sweet. The '71 Series was the first to have a game played at night, a novelty that eventually became the norm by the mid-1980's.
1972 Nat'l. League Playoffs/Game 5/Pittsburgh vs. Cincinnati (Oct. 11) - The game was still being played when I headed out to my weekly Junior Achievement meeting in downtown Pittsburgh, so I brought my transistor radio with me to listen to the closing innings. As the bus I was riding approached the City on the Ft. Pitt Bridge I heard the Reds score the winning run in the bottom of the 9th inning on a wild pitch to advance to the World Series. A similar crushing loss in the bottom of the 9th happened to the Pirates 20 years later when they lost Game 7 of the NL Championship Series to Atlanta. (The Pirates haven't had a winning season since.)
1973 Nat'l. League Playoffs/Game 3/Mets vs. Cincinnati (Oct. 8) - I had just come home from school and turned on the game. As I was changing clothes Pete Rose and Mets shortstop Bud Harrelson got into a scuffle after Rose slid hard into Harrelson at 2nd base. However, the Mets got the last laugh by advancing to the World Series. Like 1969, I wasn't a Mets fan, especially since they barely had a winning record (82-79) and had passed my Pirates in the final week of the season to win the NL East. Two big news events occurred during that post-season: 1) VP Spiro Agnew resigned due to tax problems and 2) Egypt attacked Israel on the eve of Yom Kippur during the weekend the World Series began.
1975 World Series/Game 6/Cincinnati vs. Boston (Oct. 21) - I was in my freshman year at Penn State and watched the game in a friend's dorm room when it went into extra innings, so I saw the Red Sox' Carlton Fisk hit his famous game-winning HR in the bottom of the 12th inning. This game was such a good one that almost forgotten is the fact that Cincinnati won the next day to win the World Series.
1978 AL Tie-Breaker/Yankees vs. Red Sox (Oct. 2)- The Yankees had stormed back in August and September to tie the Red Sox for the AL East crown and played a 1-game tie-breaker. I watched the first seven innings in my dorm's TV room. I left for dinner after seeing the Yankees' Bucky Dent (pictured w/Reggie Jackson) hit his memorable 3-run homer over the Green Monster at Fenway to erase Boston's 2-0 lead. The Yankees won the game and went to the World Series - which they won over the Dodgers for the second year in a row.
1979 World Series/Game 7/Pittsburgh vs. Baltimore (Oct. 17) - The "We Are Family" Pirates defeated the Orioles in a carbon copy of their 1971 World Series championship over them, i.e. after falling behind 3 games to 1, they swept the next 3 games. But it was a bittersweet victory for me because I was living in New Jersey and there was no celebrating crowd. I called my brother who lived down the street and then my parents back in Pittsburgh to share the good news.
1989 World Series/Game 3/Oakland vs SF (Oct. 17)- This World Series is forever known for the earthquake that struck minutes before Game 3 was about to start - and captured on live TV. I had turned on the game about five minutes after the quake hit. Since the Series involved two teams from the Bay Area it was delayed for 10 days.
2003 NL Championship Series/Game 6/Florida vs. Cubs/Oct. 14 - As was my usual habit I went to the gym late after taking a nap (around 9:30). The game was on one of the TV monitors above the treadmills and stairmasters and when I left it appeared the game was in hand with the Cubs leading 3-0 in the top of the 8th inning. If they won they'd advance to the World Series and get a chance to break their 95-year streak without a World Series championship. However, between the time I left and got back to my apartment, about 10 minutes, the game had turned around completely and the Marlins had taken an 8-3 lead! It turned out that an overzealous fan (the infamous Steve Bartman) had leaned over and deflected a fly ball that the Cubs outfielder was about to catch. After that the floodgates opened. (This was was somewhat similar to what happened in the 1996 AL League Championship between the Orioles & Yankees when 12-year old Jeffrey Maier reached out to grab a flyball hit by Derek Jeter that was about to be caught. It was called a home run and the Yankees won the game because of it.)
2009 World Series/Philadelphia vs. Yankees - A novel experience was having someone to watch the games with as my boyfriend David was also a baseball fan. However, we had different ways of enjoying the games. For instance, David was more a student of pitching while I liked high-scoring games. Furthermore, he found it peculiar that I often commented about the appearance of each player as they came to bat (which I thought was normal, especially for a gay man). Lastly, I found it nerve wracking to sit through an entire game, especially if the Yankees had a lead, while David enjoyed watching the entire nine innings. However, one thing we had in common was rooting for the Yankees who beat the Phillies in six games.
Growing up in Pittsburgh, one of the proudest moments in the city's history, and a story passed down from generation to generation, was the Pirates' World Series championship in 1960 over the mighty New York Yankees. In the most dramatic ending in World Series history, Pirate second baseman Bill Mazeroski hit a home run in the bottom of the 9th inning to win Game 7. It seemed fitting that the title came to Pittsburgh because the "Steel City" was going through its "Renaissance" a the time, a massive civic campaign to clean the air/water, create parks and rebuild parts of downtown.
In the first six games of the Series the Yankees had scored twice as many runs as Pittsburgh yet the Pirates managed to win three games. In the games the Yanks won they crushed the Pirates (16-3, 10-0, 12-0) while the Pirates won games in which its pitchers shined (6-4, 3-2, 5-2). Then in Game 7 the Pirates ramped up its offense. It was a see-saw game and after the Yankees scored two runs in the top of the 9th the game was tied 9-9.
"Maz" was the first batter in the bottom of the 9th and he hit his famous home run a little past 3:30. My mother was watching the game with my older brother and sister who were already home from school (2nd and 5th Grades, respectively). As for me, I was just 3 years old so I have no recollection. Since my father had bet against the Pirates, when he came home from work at 4:30 Mom and my brother Darrell met him on the sidewalk waving a "crying towel". His bet was with a neighbor from across the street for a case of beer (Iron City, of course). Mr. Zamanski magnanimously didn't want Dad to pay-up but Dad insisted and they drank a bottle together.
Fast forward 50 years. As the anniversary of Game 7 approached word came last month that a kinescope of Game 7 had been found in the wine cellar of Bing Crosby's home outside of San Francisco. Crosby had been a partial owner of the Pirates back in 1960 and was too nervous to watch the game so he arranged to have a tape made of the game being shown on the TV screen that he could watch later. It's the only recording of the entire that exists.
The Pirates also had dramatic World Series triumphs in 1971 and 1979, both times coming from 3-games-to-1 deficits to prevail (and over Baltimore each time). However, neither matched the adrenaline rush of that late afternoon HR over the scoreboard in beloved Forbes Field. (The book The Best Game Ever: Pirates 10 Yankees 9 offers an in-depth, inning-by-inning account of Game 7.) Happily, "Maz" is still with us (at age 76) and to honor him a statue outside Heinz Field was unveiled two summers ago.
