Childhood Impressions of Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania

by Kathryn MacDonald Hartman

When I remember Grandma’s house on Hay street in Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania memories of the sounds, the smells, and the sights of my childhood come crowding into my mind.

I can almost hear the complaining whine of the saw at the planing mill up the street near Penn Avenue. It always set my teeth on edge. Starting with a a deep-toned buzzzzz, as it hacked out a huge plank from a log, it would build up gradually to a shrill, penetrating screech, as it spewed out the smaller pieces of lumber. Then, the saw would stop, and the air would be redolent with the sweet smell of freshly out wood which permeated the atmosphere for hours afterward.

I remember, too, the brackish, pungent odor which poured from Mr. Firmin’s Ink Factory up the street, every time he poured the black, viscous liquid he called ink into bottles, which he shipped to the market.

I cannot forget, either, the staccato-like click, click, click, emanating from the slate yard down at the corner of South Avenue, as the punching machines penetrated the slates, and shingles dropped one-by-one into the wicket nearby. Disregarding parental disapproval, little girls and little boys frequently vied with each other for the cast off slates, which they carefully carried home to be used later for writing, etc.

The tempting smells of the Candy Kitchen as we passed it on Wood Street near Ross Avenue and our childish grief the night it caught fire and burned. The pleasant duty of going to Hell’s Bakery to purchase an occasional pie or cake, ignoring the heat of the place, and literally absorbing the mouthwatering odors encountered there. Both of these are lingering memories difficult to obliterate.

But one of the most cherished impressions of my childhood life in Wilkinsburg was the almost poetic beauty of the sunsets, as we watched the sky change from swords of flame to light fluffy pink, and then to delicate azure and lavender, while we sat in Grandma’s flower garden, and the roses and the lilies, and the sweet peas, and the spice bush gave off their heavenly fragrances as Eventide crept over the land.

Then, as the stars came out, one by one, Grandpa began to name them for me, and impressed upon my mind the grandeur of the Universe, and the Love and Power of its Creator.