On Youngstown

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Where We Came From

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1910 Census Record for the German Orphan (Protestant) Asylum via FamilySearch

In a number of these posts I’ve written about some of the early families who came to Youngstown and where they came from–towns in Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania and elsewhere. Recently, my sister-in-law emailed about our own family roots. I knew some of this but had a lot of question marks. She’s a realtor, and pretty resourceful when it comes up to searching for information. She filled in a few gaps and sparked my own curiosity that led to filling in a couple more. It also left me with some new questions.

I always knew that my grandfather had grown up in an orphanage in Pittsburgh and was pretty sure his father’s name was George. I didn’t know the name of his wife or why my grandfather and his brother Jack and sister Mary ended up in an orphanage. My sister-in-law confirmed that my great grandfather’s name was George, he was born in Kentucky, and my great grandmother was named Mathilde, born in Pennsylvania and deceased young sometime after the birth of her last child.  A 1910 census record at a genealogy site listed all the residents (forty-seven) at the orphanage where my grandfather grew up, including my grandmother and four siblings (there was also an Ernest and an Emma). It was listed as the German Orphan (Protestant) Asylum.

I remembered my grandfather taking me there one day as a child but had no idea where it was. Some sleuthing confirmed that it was the German Protestant Orphan Asylum, located in Mount Lebanon. I was able to match up the superintendent (or matron) of the orphanage listed on the census with a listing in the Directory of the Philanthropic Agencies of the City of Pittsburgh. We don’t know, but we suspect that my great grandfather, faced with raising five young children on his own after his wife’s death decided that this was too much, and placed them in the orphanage.

My sister-in-law also found my grandfather’s 1917 draft card. By that time, he was working in an ammunition factory run by Standard Steel Can in Butler, Pennsylvania. At this time, his father George is listed as still living, residing in Etna, Pennsylvania. My grandfather married shortly after this time and moved to Warren, Ohio where his brother also lived. My father was born in Warren in 1920. A census record from 1940 showed that my grandparents, my dad and his brother had moved to the West side of Youngstown, living in the duplex across the street on North Portland Avenue from where we grew up and my parents lived for 65 years. This was a fact I had not been aware of! At that time my grandfather is listed as a bakery supervisor, probably at the Wonder Bakery plant down the street on Mahoning Avenue. I remember him talking about driving a delivery truck for the bakery and wonder if this is what brought him to Youngstown. Later on, he sold insurance for the Prudential and moved to the South Side.

Looking at the 1940 census records, I realized that there must be one in the same batch for my mother since she and her family lived on South Portland. She was 20 at the time and listed as a “new worker.” My grandfather on my mom’s side is listed as a policeman with the steel mills (I believe U.S. Steel). A year later, my mom and dad were married, less than six months before Pearl Harbor.

All the things my sister-in-law uncovered filled in some gaps and raised some questions as well. I have no memory of my grandfather’s brother Ernest, and very little of Emma. I wonder what brought his father’s family to Kentucky and how George and Mathilde ended up in Pittsburgh. I suspect work had something to do with it. I’m still not sure why my grandparents started out in Warren or exactly when they moved to Youngstown. I wonder how much my grandfather and his father stayed in touch after he was placed in the orphanage. Apparently my grandfather knew where his father was living to list him as next of kin. And we still don’t know who George’s father was and where he came from. Likely from somewhere in Germany.

Germany-Kentucky–Pittsburgh–Mt. Lebanon–Butler–Warren–Youngstown. That’s the path that my father’s family took to get to Youngstown. I hope I haven’t bored you with these efforts to learn more about our family history. Maybe it has sparked an interest to discover the path your family took and how it ran to or through Youngstown. Like many of you, our family is now scattered around the country. And like you, Youngstown was a significant part of our family history, as well as the place of my birth.

My sister in law did a good part of her research on FamilySearch, a free genealogy website that I’ve used for other research on Youngstown families. It just hadn’t occurred to me to use it to look into my own family roots! This was where she accessed census and other records connected with my grandfather and his siblings.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Reverend William Wick

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Helen Chapel of the First Presbyterian Church, By Nyttend [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons

“In Youngstown, the name ‘Wick’ is a synonym for fiscal integrity and unusual ability, for high character, and for public spiritedness.” — Joseph G. Butler.

Two Wick brothers were among the very earliest to settle in Youngstown and the Wick name not only runs through the city as Wick Avenue, but also the city’s history. Henry and William Wick were both born to Lemuel and Deborah (Lupton) Wick. In this post, I will focus on the older brother, William, who established the first congregation in the Western Reserve, First Presbyterian Church, at the corner of Wick and Wood Street, just across Wick Avenue from its present location.

Reverend Wick was born on Long Island July 29, 1768. The family later moved to Washington County, Pennsylvania. He was educated at Washington and Jefferson College in nearby Canonsburg. He married Elizabeth McFarland, daughter of a Revolutionary War colonel on April 21, 1791. They started out married life on a Washington County farm. They would eventually have eight sons and three daughters. William Watson Wick, their eldest, served as a congressman from Indiana.

Wick read theology in the “Cannonsburg Academy,” a log cabin school presided over by a Dr. McMillan, who persuaded him of the need for preachers on the growing frontier. He completed his studies and was licensed to preach on August 28, 1799. He accepted calls to two churches in Mercer County, Hopewell and Neshannock in 1800. The Presbytery of Ohio released him from the Neshannock call so that he could begin ministry in the Western Reserve in 1801, the first permanent minister in the Western Reserve, receiving support both from the Presbytery and the Connecticut Missionary Society (remember that it was the Western Reserve of Connecticut), along with Joseph Badger.

One of the families that moved to nearby Coitsville Township at the same time was that of William Holmes McGuffey, whom Wick knew from Washington County. McGuffey received his early education from Wick, and one wonders how much he influenced the McGuffey Readers. Wick educated him in Latin as well as using “Webster’s Speller” and Lindley Murray’s English Grammar

Reverend Wick divided his time between the church in Youngstown and the Hopewell congregation. The ministerial life was hard and his health had been delicate even during his years on the farm. In October 1814 a severe cold weakened his lungs. He continued ministering through the winter, his health continuing to fail. He preached his last sermon on February 13, 1815 but address them in his home until he died, March 29, 1815.

At his request, he was buried in Youngstown. On his tombstone, it is noted that he preached one thousand five hundred and twenty-two sermons and married fifty-six couples. The Youngstown church grew rapidly, thanks to an awakening of religious interest in 1803.

First Presbyterian Church continues to this day, it’s tall white spire overlooking downtown Youngstown from the bluffs to the north. I wonder if Reverend Wick would have thought his little log cabin church would still be ministering to the spiritual needs of people in Youngstown over 200 years later?

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Hopewell Furnace

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Hopewell Furnace

Hopewell Furnace, Source: Remarkable Ohio

It all began here, as far as iron and steel making in the Mahoning Valley goes. In 1802, the same year that Youngstown was incorporated, James and Daniel Heaton (they later changed their name to Eaton) built an iron furnace along Yellow Creek, below Lake Hamilton, in present day Struthers. It was known as the Hopewell Furnace. It was the first such furnace in Ohio, which became a state the next year, and the first west of the Alleghenies, according to Dr. John R. White (who I had as a professor in several classes at YSU), who excavated the site over three seasons beginning in 1975.

Nearby deposits of kidney iron and coal, forests and that could be converted to charcoal, along with a water source, provided the necessary ingredients for the first iron blast furnace. White asserts that it is the first furnace to use a combination of bituminous coal and charcoal in the New World.  It was first “blown” in 1803 and the smelting operation produced approximately two tons of iron per day during the 275 days a year or so it could operate outside the winter season. The iron was cast onsite into Dutch ovens, kettles, skillets, trivets, andirons, stove parts and hearth grates. These were sold not only to local residents in the growing community but also in nearby Pittsburgh. The furnace became the leading employer in its immediate vicinity and was instrumental in the founding of Struthers.

“Hopewell” expressed the Eaton brothers optimism for this new enterprise. Unfortunately, both competition and depletion of a key resource led to the end of iron-making at this site by 1808. In 1806, John Struthers (after whom Struthers is named) and Robert Montgomery opened another furnace a little ways downstream. This furnace used a more efficient “blast” using water wheels and fans. In 1807 Eaton sold the Hopewell furnace and related interests for $5600 to Montgomery, Clendenin, & Co., who operated it until the following year. By this time the hardwood forests that provided the key ingredient for charcoal had been used up. The Montgomery furnace downstream operated until 1812.

The Eaton family went on to build the Maria Furnace in Niles in 1813 and the Mill Creek Furnace, in present day Mill Creek Park, some time around 1830 and it operated up until around 1850. Around this time, a new, high quality form of coal, known as block coal was found in the Brier Hill area and resulted in a new boom of iron making in the Mahoning Valley, paving the way for the later emergence of steel, stronger and more flexible in the late 1800’s.

It all began in 1802 at Hopewell Furnace. Access to critical resources, growing markets, and a workforce all played a part. Although Hopewell Furnace only operated for about six years, it was a rehearsal for an industry that would shape the life of the Mahoning Valley for the next 175 years.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Smoky Hollow

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Harrison Common – Smoky Hollow – Pergola. Photo by Jack Pearce [CC BY-SA 2.0] via Flickr

I’ve always been fascinated by the name. Smoky Hollow. Sounds a bit mysterious. Atmospheric. The last was literally so at one time. There often was a veil of smoke over the area in early years due to the nearby Mahoning Valley Iron Company.

The area was once the property of the James Wick family. As mills grew up along Crab Creek in the late 1800’s, immigrants densely settled the nearby neighborhoods with homes where you could read the neighbor’s newspaper through the side window, or even closer in row houses. While immigrants moved there from a number of countries, the Italian community dominated by the 1920’s. There were stores with names on them like Nazurini, Lariccia, Tucci, Gaglione, DeBartolo, Cianello, Conti, and Diciacomo. An early business that has survived to this day is Cassese’s MVR Club. Edward J. DeBartolo, Sr., shopping mall developer was born here in 1919. Jack Warner and Dom Roselli also grew up here.

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Harrison Common, The Smoky Hollow Granite Map. Photo by Jack Pearce [CC BY-SA 2.0] via Flickr (site includes a legend of identifiable structures)

The neighborhood is bordered by Wick Avenue on the west, the US 422 freeway on the north and east, and Rayen Avenue and Oak Street on the South. In our childhoods, both my wife and I attended churches on the edge of Smoky Hollow. We went to Tabernacle United Presbyterian Church, at the corner of Wood and Walnut until the congregation relocated to Austintown in 1968. My wife’s family went to Sts. Cyril and Methodius Church, just down Wood Street, and my wife went to the school next to the church through eighth grade. Many of her classmates lived in Smoky Hollow. For a time, my father worked nearby at the Raymond Concrete Pile plant along Andrews Avenue.

From the 1970’s on, the neighborhood declined, especially after the mill closures and a number of homes were vacant and razed. The vacancies combined with the growth of Youngstown State has resulted in the beginnings of redevelopment in the area. University classroom buildings, a parking garage, and apartments were built east of Wick Avenue.

Wick Neighbors, Inc in cooperation with St. John’s Episcopal Church, Youngstown State and the City of Youngstown developed a plan for the redevelopment of the area. One of the first parts of the plan to be completed was the creation of Harrison Common Park in 2011, across the street from the MVR, using a combination of $4 million in public funds and private donations. The park features a brick-paved plaza, a pergola donated by the Rotary Club, landscaping, and a large playing field. There is also a pizza/bread oven, reminiscent of the backyard ovens many early Youngstown residents used for baking bread and pizza-making. There is an inlaid, granite plat map of the Smoky Hollow area from 1920 to 1940.

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Bread Oven at Harrison Common. Photo by Jack Pierce [CC BY-SA 2.0] via Flickr

Other improvements in the area include road and infrastructure improvements on Walnut Street and the major improvements made on Wick Avenue. Long term development includes plans for housing and attracting businesses to the Smoky Hollow area. In 2014 Wick Neighbors, Inc. merged into Youngstown CityScape, which continues under the latter name.

To visit the area is to be reminded of a once vibrant neighborhood of small groceries and other businesses, densely packed housing and a vibrant neighborhood life. Now most of the houses are gone. The MVR lives on. Much of Smoky Hollow’s life is connected to the university. Harrison Common Park suggests the center of what could be a new vibrant community in the future. When that future will come and what that will look like remains to be seen. Until then the name reminds us of the place that once was. Smoky Hollow.

[Like some other names in Youngstown, some add an “e” to the name, making it Smokey Hollow. I chose the usage I found in The Vindicator, Wikipedia, and Youngstown CityScape.]

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Daniel Shehy (Sheehy)

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Daniel Shehy Cabin

An illustration of the cabin erected by Daniel Shehy, From History of Youngstown and the Mahoning Valley, Ohio, Volume 1, By Joseph Green Butler

Who was the first settler of Youngstown (other  than native peoples)? The standard answer of course is John Young who surveyed the land, purchased the township, platted the initial settlement, and built the first cabin near Spring Common. This has been disputed by a descendant of Daniel Shehy who contends that Young never lived in Youngstown, nor built the first cabin. Clarence A. Horton writes:

“After purchasing the land Daniel Shehy began at once to construct Youngstown’s first cabin along the river on it’s north-eastern side at a point which later became known as Edgewood Street and Truesdale Avenue. The cabin was made of rough logs about 16 by 20 feet, one story and all in one room.” (As quoted in Howard C. Aley, A Heritage to Share, p. 31).

Daniel Shehy (while it is often rendered “Sheehy”, a descendant wrote me to assert the spelling with the single “e”) without question was one of the first settlers. Born in 1756 in Tipperary, Ireland, he fled to America during the Revolution when two near relatives were executed for opposition to government policies. He joined John Young enroute to survey the township lands Young had agreed to purchased, subject to survey. He had $2,000 in gold to invest and agreed to purchase 1000 acres of land, 400 on the east side of the Mahoning, 600 on the west. Shehy and Young ended up in a land dispute when it appeared that Young sold the land Shehy had agreed to buy to a subsequent purchaser. It took two trips to Connecticut to resolve the question (Youngstown was part of Connecticut’s Western Reserve lands). The dispute even landed Shehy in jail and fined $25 for threats against Young.

Some contend that the settlement of the dispute, granting him the 400 acres east of the Mahoning, came when Shehy’s wife Jane named a son John Young Shehy. Daniel and Jane met July 4, 1797 when Shehy, Young, and James Hillman went to nearby Beavertown, Pennsylvania, to celebrate the holiday. They married the same year and had a number of children.

Beyond being one of the first, if not the first settler and presumably farming the land he finally gained title to, Shehy doesn’t appear to play a major role beyond appearing in an early list of taxpayers. The Reverend Thomas Martin celebrated the first Catholic services in Youngstown in their home in 1826.  His cabin appears in a famous horse race between Youngstown and Warren for the county seat of what was then a single county, Trumbull County. The Youngstown horse, Fly, won and kept running for a mile past the finish to Shehy’s cabin. For some reason, Warren still got the county seat.

Daniel Shehy died January 20, 1834, survived by Jane until 1856. His name endures on Shehy Street, on the east side, running from Wilson Avenue to Oak Street south of Himrod. Along with James Hillman and other early Youngstown residents, he is buried in Oak Hill Cemetery.

If some family descendants or others up on Youngstown history can add to this account, please leave comments here. Shehy was a key figure in Youngstown history but there is little more written about him that I could find than is written here.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Emmet M. Walsh

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Bishop Walsh in the Oval Office with President Truman (7th from left). Photo by Abbie Rowe. Public Domain via Wikipedia.

Fifty years ago this month the Most Reverend Emmet Michael Walsh, Bishop of Youngstown passed away on March 16, 1968. Over 1500 clergy, religious, seminarians, and laypersons attended his funeral mass on March 23, 1968 at the Cathedral of St. Columba. He was later laid to rest in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Charleston, where he had served as Bishop of Charleston before coming to Youngstown.

He was born in Beaufort, South Carolina March 6, 1892, ordained in 1916, serving parishes in Atlanta, Albany, and Savannah,  Georgia before his appointment as Bishop of Charleston in 1927 by Pope Pius XI. At the time of his consecration as the sixth bishop of Charleston, Emmet Walsh, at age 35, was the youngest member of the Catholic hierarchy in the United States. He exercised vigorous leadership in this role, establishing 25 new parishes and four new hospitals in a southern diocese in a predominantly Protestant religious culture. He also served in the leadership of the National Catholic Welfare Conference Legal Department and served as the secretary of the Bishop’s Meeting at the Catholic University of America.

In 1949, Pope Pius XII named him the Coadjutor Bishop of the Diocese of Youngstown and titular bishop of Rhaedestus, Turkey, to assist its aging Bishop James A. McFadden, the first Bishop of the Diocese. During this time, in 1951, President Truman appointed him to the Internal Security and Individual Rights Commission, a body formed to combat Communism, a significant concern in this period (the photo above is of his swearing in to the Commission).

When Bishop McFadden died in 1952, he was appointed the second Bishop of the Diocese of Youngstown in 1952. One of the first challenges he faced was the terrible fire that destroyed the first Cathedral of St. Columba in September of 1954. He oversaw the construction of the new St. Columba’s which was dedicated in 1958.

This was a period of rapid growth both of the city and the Diocese. A number of new parishes were formed throughout the Diocese, which extends west to Akron and Canton. Among the parishes formed in Youngstown during his tenure were St. Christine’s on the west side of Youngstown, Immaculate Heart of Mary in Austintown, and St. Michael’s in Canfield. On September 23, 1956 Bishop Walsh presided over the dedication ceremonies for Cardinal Mooney High School, which had reached an enrollment of 600 in its first year, and has educated thousands in the subsequent 62 years, including my wife. He led a three year funding drive, working with Father James Malone, then the Superintendent of Schools, who would eventually succeed him as Bishop.

In 1957, the Brothers of Christian Instruction were looking for a new location for La Mennais College, a liberal arts college for men. Through connections with Monsignor William Hughes, then principal at Cardinal Mooney, they received permission to open a new college in the Canton area. When they discovered that their proposed name, Canton College, was taken, they decided to name the institution, now know as Walsh University after Bishop Walsh.

Bishop Walsh attended the Second Vatican Council from 1962 to 1965. At the funeral mass for Bishop Walsh, The Most Reverend Paul F. Tanner described him as “years ahead of his time in concerted efforts by Catholic Bishops.” In both the Diocese of Charleston and the Diocese of Youngstown, there are vibrant parishes, educational institutions, and health care facilities that trace their beginnings to Bishop Walsh. He presided of the rebuilding of the beautiful Cathedral of St. Columba that looks out over the valley and gave good service to diocese, church, and country during his tenure in Youngstown.

Well done, servant of God. Requiescat in pace.

Sources:

Wikipedia: Emmet M. Walsh

Find a Grave: Rev Bishop Emmet Michael Walsh

The Vindicator: “Years Ago” – Bishop Emmet Michael Walsh Funeral

Walsh University: Our Foundation: Then and Now

Cardinal Mooney Newsletter: “Cardinal Mooney Celebrates Its 60th Anniversary!”

Review: Voices from the Rust Belt

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Voices from the Rust Belt

Voices from the Rust Belt, Anne Trubek ed. New York: Picador, (forthcoming April 3) 2018.

Summary: A collection of essays from those living, or who have lived, in Rust Belt cities from Buffalo to Chicago, and Flint, Michigan to Moundsville, West Virginia.

I grew up in the archetypal Rust Belt town of Youngstown and write about that experience (you can find all my posts in the “On Youngstown” category on my blog). I left before it acquired the Rust Belt name, in 1976. Back then, it was the “industrial heartland” until the industrial part was gutted in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. I witnessed the effects in three of the cities I’ve lived in, Toledo, Cleveland, and Youngstown, and so was naturally interested in reviewing this collection of essays from those with connections to the Rust Belt cities of the Midwest, from Chicago to Buffalo.

The book is organized into four sections, the first of which was “Growing Up,” which coincidentally opens with an essay from a fellow Youngstown native, Jacqueline Marino. She writes of childhood visits to her grandmother on South Pearl St, covering her mouth as she crossed the Market Street Bridge near the steel mills, and then the changes she saw in her grandmother’s neighborhood and the city as the mills closed, the influence of organized crime in the city (everyone played “the bug”), and the rich memories that she carries to this day of her Italian grandparents kitchen and the oasis it provided in a gritty city. The essay is followed by a Detroit native talking about white flight and the ‘kidnapped children’ who disappeared as families fled the city, a white Clevelander talking about the positive impact of busing on her life, of ethnic hatreds in a Jewish neighborhood in Buffalo, growing up on an Ohio River town home to the West Virginia Penitentiary, and the theft and recovery of a bicycle in Flint.

The second group of essays traces “Day to Day in the Rust Belt” and makes it clear there is no single Rust Belt story. There is the middle-aged social worker in Pittsburgh trying to help a down and out alcoholic when his agency cannot. There is the young life lost to street violence in Flint, the separated couple, both coming out of substance abuse, one more successfully than the other, trying to care for a daughter, remain civil with each other, and pull their lives together. There is an essay on the contrast between Buffalo “boosterism” and the black communities that are more or less left out, the odd phenomenon of a white arts culture thinking they will find salvation, as well as low rent, in Detroit. Finally, we learn about a thriving Iraqi community in Cleveland, one of many such ethnic communities aborning in the Midwest.

The third section explores “The Geography of the Heartland” beginning with a legendary gay bar in the Clifton neighborhood of Cincinnati, a visit to an old family home in Indiana (how many of us have gone back to old homesteads to find them derelict, or in my own case, vanished?), the “fauxtopia” of Henry Ford’s Greenfield Village and the contrast between the exurban dream Ford’s automobiles made possible, and the remnants of the city that was abandoned. Another essay attacks the artists who supplanted industrial workers in Cleveland for their pretensions when what has drawn them is the low cost of living (what is this thing against artists?). A descendent of the West Virginia McCoys reflects on the history of coal mining in the West Virginia Mine Wars Museum, a couple essays reflect on urban ecologies in Chicago and Cleveland.

“Leaving or Staying”–a dilemma faced by many Rust Belt natives is the subject of the last section. A young woman describes finding a delightful neighborhood in Lakewood only to flee it due to a failed love affair. A long-time Buffalo resident talks about the toleration of ex-pats only to become one. An Akron native describes staying in the former Rubber Capital. The collection closes with a poignant narrative of a father bathing his daughter in the lead-polluted water of Flint, Michigan, and the panic when she tries to drink some and what it is like when a basic necessity like water is so dangerous.

Nearly all the essays focused on personal narrative. One stood out as taking a larger look at the challenges of renewal faced by Rust Belt cities, titled “That Better Place; or the Problem with Mobility.” Written by a Cleveland Heights native, it describes the impacts of mobility and the consequences: too much retail space, housing, stressed tax bases, persistent segregation, how school ratings become real estate marketing tools (a particular problem in Ohio) and five proposals to address these challenges.

I noted earlier that there is no single Rust Belt story. While this is true, it was also striking that all these essays describe the problems and the struggle of displacement, of “making it” for those who live in Rust Belt cities. Perhaps the most hopeful story in the collection was of “Little Iraq” in Cleveland and the white woman who was positively impacted by busing. One thing such a collection makes clear is that “turnaround” stories often can be selective with whole populations left behind due to inferior schools and persisting patterns of racialization. Yet I also wonder where are the narratives of those who have overcome the challenges of the Rust Belt, who remember the past but are not trapped in it, and are rolling up their sleeves to make the most of the new economy. The essay by Jason Segedy on loving Akron comes closest to this with his refusal to look for the Next Big Thing (a temptation in all of these cities) and instead begin with “little plans” that might be scaled up with success. I just would have liked one or two essays by those who have done what he proposes. Where are these Rust Belt stories?

The Rust Belt is in my blood, probably literally. I’ve lived in some of these places, visited most of them, and the stories in this book give a cross-section of life as it was and is that is recognizable. Yet I also wish the collection would have captured more of the dynamism of those working to reclaim neighborhoods and mixed use zoning, to start new businesses, and to build a new civic life while sustaining the rich ethnic and cultural heritages of these cities, from cuisine to high culture.

When we lived in Cleveland, I used to joke that Clevelanders actually made up the jokes about Cleveland to keep everybody else away. I wonder if it is time for narratives that are honest about the challenges, but instead of keeping people away, or resenting those like artists who come, propose how our Rust Belt cities might be good places for those up for the challenge, be they artists, activists, businesses, inventors, entrepreneurs, crafts and tradespeople–or even writers!

____________________________

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary advance review copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

 

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — The Kenley Players

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Man of La Mancha

Program from Kenley Players production of Man of La Mancha

I went on my first real (double) date to a Kenley Players production in Warren, Ohio with tennis buddy Tom and our dates. We saw Giorgio Tozzi, a famous operatic bass, in the lead role of Man of La Mancha in the summer of 1970. I’ve loved that music every since. One summer at a camp, my son, then in high school, and I did a duet in a talent show where I played Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote. Strictly a one-off performance!

Sugar

Cast and credits from Sugar

I went to Kenley Players one other time, in the summer of 1975 when my wife and I were dating. Sugar with Mickey Rooney and Ken Berry was funny, if less inspiring. These days, the play would be off limits–my principle memory was of Rooney groping every woman in the play.

Packard Music Hall, in Warren, was one of a number of locations where John Kenley and his Players staged productions, including Deer Creek, Reading, Lakewood Park, York, and Bristol in Pennsylvania, and Dayton, Warren, Columbus, Akron, and Cleveland in Ohio. Kenley was a pioneer of summer stock productions that combined regional actors with older stars from Hollywood and current television actors.

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Program from Finian’s Rainbow

The Players were in Warren from 1958 to 1977, after which the summer productions in northeast Ohio moved to Akron, and then two seasons at Playhouse Square in Cleveland. During many of the years that Kenley Players were in Warren, they were also Dayton and Columbus. The summer schedule was different at each site with some overlap. For example, Finian’s Rainbow featuring Barbara Eden, a play my wife saw in Warren, was also produced in the other two cities.

Kenley lived to be 103 years old. He helped to launch the career of a Canadian actor by the name of Robert Goulet, who became famous a few years later on Broadway in Camelot. The scores of other actors in his productions include Gypsy Rose Lee, Arthur Godfrey, Burt Reynolds, Mae West, William Shatner, and Betty White.

Kenley Players billed themselves as “America’s most exciting summer theatre.” For many of us growing up in the Mahoning Valley, this was our opportunity to see famous stars and talented players in quality productions at reasonable prices (cheap enough for a high school date!). He provided work and a resume’ for aspiring actors. After retirement in 1995 stars like Ann Margaret and Carol Channing honored his work. When asked the secret of his longevity, he replied, “Keep breathing. And don’t die.” Good advice for us all!

What are your memories of the Kenley Players? What shows did you see?

Article sources: The Kenley Players website; John Kenley, legendary Ohio impresario dead at 103: Obituary

Is It Time For A New Name?

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Factory near Gary, IN. Photo by Robert C. Trube. All rights reserved.

The other day I drove past this scene (actually as a passenger) in Gary, Indiana. Recently I’ve been reading a collection of narratives titled Voices from the Rust Belt. My journey through this region, and listening to these “voices” from Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Youngstown, Cleveland, Detroit and other cities leads me to wonder if it is time to retire that name. Is it time for a new name?

The name arose with the decline of the steel and manufacturing industries that had been the lifeblood of these cities. Thousands lost jobs and the impact rippled through the communities. Those who could moved away to find jobs. Populations declined, factories rusted away until torn down. Rust belt seemed an apt term.

I wonder if it still is. It’s not that many of those places still suffer the effects of those plant closures. But I also know that cities have redefined themselves in a variety of ways. Some, like Pittsburgh, have become hi-tech centers. Others, because of low overhead costs, have been ideal locations for business startups. Some manufacturers have remained, leaner and more competitive.

I’ve thought about alternative terms but they all seem schmaltzy or simplistic. More than that, they don’t capture the stories of each of these cities as they are now. So my proposal? Let’s stop talking about the Rust Belt and begin talking about Youngstown, and Cleveland, and Detroit and all the others on their own terms. Rust Belt is about the past. It’s time to talk about what each of these cities are…or could be.

I’d love to know what you think, and if you have a good name for this region.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — St. Patrick’s Day

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On Thursday, I was in Oxford, Ohio just in time to stumble across a Miami University student tradition — Green Beer Day. Friday was the last day of classes before spring break, and so it was the traditional day for them to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the uptown bars. I discovered that the green is just food coloring and the best way to do it is to add blue which balances the yellowish brown hue of beer. Remember yellow + blue = green? Personally, that just seems a good way to spoil a good glass of beer. Just give me a pint of Guinness. But it also set me to thinking about other things we did on St. Patrick’s Day.

So, you know it is St. Patrick’s Day when…

  1. Mom lays out green clothes for you to wear even if you don’t like green, even if you didn’t think you owned green. But in the end, you thanked her because everyone else at school was wearing it as well.
  2. You heard the story of shamrocks, which is really just a fancy name for clover. It is thought that St. Patrick used the shamrock as an image of the Trinity. There is a connection between shamrocks and green beer in that the Irish would add shamrocks to their beer (and stronger drinks) in what they called “drowning the shamrock.” Seems it was in this connection that I also heard of four leaf clovers and the luck of the Irish. Looked for a four leaf clover but never found one. I guess I just wasn’t patient or lucky enough–they occur roughly in 1 out of 5,000 clover leaves.
  3. Read aloud time was Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham. Worse was when someone tried to make green eggs and ham.
  4. People talked about leprechauns. I’m not sure we talked very much about them in Youngstown. Seriously, can you imagine one of these little creatures any where near a steel mill?
  5. Mom made corned beef and cabbage for dinner. It’s thought that Irish Americans in New York City may have started this as a cheaper substitute to Irish bacon.
  6. Chicago dyes its river green. Youngstown never had to–the Mahoning was always kind of green. Not any more.
  7. St. Patrick’s Day Parades. This is a custom in many cities with Irish populations. In Youngstown, the parade actually started after we moved away, and is celebrating its 41st anniversary this year. For more info, here is the official website.

Seven is a lucky number and so this seems a good place to stop. I will be celebrating the day. My great-grandmother’s maiden name was Corrigan, which makes me 1/8th Irish. Again, it’s probably about the only time of the year I think about it. But on St. Patrick’s Day, it is a good day to be Irish, no matter your genealogy. Erin go Bragh!