A Legacy of Experience: An Autobiography

By Albert Clement Stasko

This is a story about an American living through one of the most interesting periods of our countrys history, from the horse and buggy age to the technology, which led to the moon landing. It is about a man without any particular recognized talent, not ever a hero, whom one might say an Also Rana person who always tried not to hurt anyone. As with most of my contemporaries, I took the bitter with the sweet and the joy with the sorrow and desperately tried to cope with adversity while eschewing all bitterness, even when it appeared to be justified.
To live, love, laugh, and, at the same time, commiserate with those of us who felt pain was my motto. Perhaps I did not contribute to society as much as I had hoped, but at least I tried to be a good contributor. Maybe my offspring and others will find it fascinating to know just how we lived in the good old days. At least they will have a record of how we lived through all the important changes. With humbleness and reverence, I offer these pages to that end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499068450

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Copyright © 2014 by Albert Clement Stasko.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2014916186

ISBN:                     Hardcover                978-1-4990-6846-7

                       Softcover                  978-1-4990-6844-3

                 eBook                       978-1-4990-6845-0

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Rev. date: 09/08/2014

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FOREWORD

This is a story about an American living through one of the most interesting periods of our country’s history, from the horse and buggy age to the technology which led to the Moon Landing. A man without any particular recognized talent, not ever a hero, one might say an Also Ran. A person who always tried not to hurt anyone. As with most of my contemporaries, I took the bitter with the sweet, the joy with the sorrow and desperately tried to cope with adversity while eschewing all bitterness even when it appeared to be justified. To live, love, laugh and at the same time commiserate with those of us who felt pain; was my motto. Perhaps I did not contribute to society as much as I had hoped, but at least tried to be a good contributor. Maybe my Off-Spring and others will find it fascinating to know just how we lived in the Good Old Days, at least they will have a record of how we lived through all the important changes. With humbleness and reverence, I offer these pages to that end.

I never realized that a child of three could be cognizant of his surroundings and remember some of the little happenings of his early childhood. But, as I look back very early on my life and match those happenings with that early age, today I understand that a child of three is capable of some reasoning. I was born on October 15, 1920 in City Farm Lane, Homestead, Pa. near the main Mill Gate for the Carnegie Steel Works. My grandmother was a midwife and delivered me and my two brothers and two sisters before me. She also delivered many more children of friends and neighbors in the community. Since I was the youngest child, it seemed logical that the eldest sister, Helen and my two brothers would be assigned the occasional task of looking after their brother, Bertie as my Mom affectionately called me. My name was Albert, but I was not to hear that name until I set foot in the first grade class room of Homeville Public School.

My brother John who I called Johnny was about eight years older than I and Andrew was six years my senior. Andrew was left handed so he very much preferred to be called Lefty. When the teachers addressed him as Andrew, he said he would want to sink through the floor. I realized that they cared for me when they took me by the hand and led me to the Mill Gate to watch the little Choo Choo trains clanging and banging up and down the narrow gage tracks. They were called Dinkies and would haul scrap steel to the open hearth furnaces. They also moved slab steel from the slabbing mill to the plate rolling mill. Just before lunch, Lefty would take Pap’s Lunch to the main gate and let me tag along. The Watchman instructed the children to place the lunches on a long bench. Lefty always wondered why they never got mixed up as to whose lunch belong to whom. One of his favorite chores was to fetch a bucket of beer for an Uncle or an adult friend because there were always a few pennies in the favor.

The blacksmith’s shop was the favorite haunt of my big brothers. I remember one day in particular when they took me to the shop. I stood there and watched the blacksmith as he shaped the horses shoe. I tried to retreat each time he pounded on the red hot shoe because many sparks would fly. But, nothing was more traumatic than watching him place that red hot shoe on the horse’s foot. After a while he began putting nails in the horse’s hoof. That did it, I was not going to watch any more, Johnie took me for a walk around the block. When we returned home, I explained to mother that this man with the dirty apron put nails in the horsey foot. She told me how necessary it was to have shoes on the horsey so he won’t hurt his hoof. My sister Helen entered the conversation by telling me that the horse’s hoof is very thick and can take an nail without hurting the horse. I ask, can the horse say Ouch?, Helen came back and said, No, but he is very strong and he would kick the man very hard if he hurt him. At the time I wasn’t sure to buy the explanation but it seemed to ease my anxiety over the matter. However, mother told everyone that I was not to be at the Blacksmith’s shop when he was putting shoes on a horse’s feet.

Although I was born when we lived at City farm lane, we moved some time later to a place called Stone alley. It was a place that had a large court yard and all of the apartments fronted the court yard in a circle and each one had its own outhouse with a quarter moon cut in above the door. The yard was all inlaid with brick so it was rather level; the ladies put their curtain stretchers out and had their curtains stretched to dry. Anybody passing by would check for soot, slack or graphite and blow on the drying material to dislodge the dirty bi-products of the steel mill. It did not make any difference whose curtains they belonged to, People did it in defiance of this relentless Problem inflicted by the Principality of steel on its workers. But, as my Pap said, No dirt no work. Most ladies seemed to feel the same way because their lace curtains were always clean. This was their pride and joy. Nobody could take that away from them.

Homestead had plenty saloons particularly around the Will gate were workers could get a cool drink. Because the prohibition amendment was in effect, the saloon keepers sold what was known as near beer. This of course, was considered alcohol free, however, some of the beer may have had a kick. Moonshine was made in defiance of the law and sold illegally. The Saloons were open to all the public. If a wife wondered why her husband was late coming home from work; she would drop in on his favorite haunt and find out why. Even children could walk in to look for Daddy.

At this time I was the youngest of five children of our family. Beside Lefty and Johnny was the Eldest of the family, Helen and a sister, Agnes who was two years older than I. Helen at times took little Agnes in the saloon to do the Shimmy which seemed to be the dance of the era. The patrons threw coins at her and surely Helen Quickly picked them up. Mother didn’t like this way of earning some money but Pap did not get upset, he felt she was too young to develop any bad habits. Eventually this practice stopped without any trepidation. Having a drink in a saloon was very common but what became a real problem was moonshining. I was told later in life that the streets near the river bottom had quite a few moonshiners. All one needed to do is yell at the backyard fence, small pork chop for a half pint and big pork chop for a full pint. Then someone would come out with the bottle in a small bag and collect fifteen cents for a half pint and a quarter for a pint. These bottles were rounded on one side so that one could put the contraband in his back pocket, pull his sweater down and walk away with the greatest of ease. The ease with which one was able to get a bottle and drink in some obscure alley may have been a contributing factor in the downfall of my youngest uncle, Mike. I loved my uncle Mike, he would show me little tricks with coins and asked me to pull his arm and then line both arms to show me that the one I pulled was longer than the other. He was the youngest child my Grandmother had and she loved him almost to a fault. He was a Handsome curly haired man a little older than my oldest brother Johnny. Grandmother had six children, her eldest died young, her name was Elizabeth but she was called Lizzie by my mother, Annie; by aunt Mary, uncle Frank, aunt Julia and of course, uncle Mike. It did not take too long for my parents to realize that it would be better to raise the family away from the social problems of the steel mill surroundings.

We moved to the adjacent town of Munhall more specifically Munhall Hallow which was a road at right angles to Eighth Avenue Homestead. The location was away from the immediate vicinity of the Mills but convenient to the street car line for commuting to work. The Pittsburgh Railway company owned line was known as the Homeville, Homestead and Lincoln Place line. We lived at the Franklin stop and further up the hill was Franklin school were my sister went to school. There was high hills on both sides of our place, our house actually formed one side of an alley that led to a path running up to a Grave yard and a garbage furnace with a large stack that seemed to be a prominent land mark. I was very suspicious of this path that run up the side of the high hill. When one of the brothers would take me for a walk I demanded that he take me home after going only about a third of the way up, as the foliage grew thicker who knows what would jump out. Another land mark was the oil well in an open lot about three houses down from our house. On occasion the rig would thump as it pumped and at first it sounded mysterious but I soon got used to the occasional noise. Across the hollow and the street car tracks there was a Barron stretch of land full of coal slack, seemed as if someone tried to mine coal at one time. A small stream flowed down between this slack pile and the car tracks. the source of this stream appeared to be Homeville. All homes in our strip were enclosed by wood fences. Our back yard had a two seat out house, a shed and a water well with a steel pump that squeaked rhythmically when one would want to draw water, That pump received plenty of use particularly on Saturday. The water had to be heated on the large wood stove in the kitchen. I can still visualize the pump with the bull durham sack hanging from the spigat. the sack would get so dark brown from the iron in the well water that Uncle Mike or Frank had to replace the sack. They both smoked so much that they rolled their own and saved all the sacks for us. If we were not provided with this convenience we simply tied a piece of cheese cloth around the water opening. this also served the purpose of gathering the iron deposits. Beyond the fence of the back yard was this scary path that led to the cemetery; the girls and I were afraid to go to the outhouse by ourselves at night, Therefore, it was incumbent on either Lefty or Johnny to stand guard while we did our constitutional. The voices were clear hurry up, it’s cold out here Well, it certainly seemed cold for us to. When Pap would work day turn he relieved the boys of this duty. Beside the outhouse stood a shed were Pap decided to raise some chickens and a few rabbits. One day as I was playing, a rabbit got loose and started to cross the street, I darted after it and was struck by a car driven by one of the mill bosses. The whole family began sobbing; I heard the sobs and felt the strong arms of my father holding me ever so gently. The man who drove the car was not going fast and must have stopped very quickly because I felt no pain. The man took us up to Dr. H. Hartly and remember being placed on this long cushion as the Dr. examined me. Before long, I was back home clutching some valuable coins and everyone in the family seemed happy again. Lefty took me to a candy store holding me piggy back as I made some of my choicest bits known to everyone. Every one received candy that day because the boy that was hit without any pain, felt generous. From that day forward there was the understanding that love and concern just permeated throughout our family.

I was soon able to repay everyone for their concern for their little brother. Mom and Pap decided to go to Homestead on the street car and visit some friends, Helen was put in charge of things. She made some butter scotch candy and placed the dish on the table thinking it was away from harm for all. Well, it wasn’t, I got on a chair while no one was looking and tested it to see if it was still hot. It indeed was. The tips of my two fingers were scolded and they hurt badly. Dear Helen rushed over and immediately put them in cool water and dried them and applied baking soda. It continued to give me pain but knowing something was being done about it seemed to assuage the pain to some extent. Even a young boy could realize that someone would get the dickens for allowing this to happen. Helen and on occasion the boys asked Does it still hurt Bertie? No, no was the reply, it was a lie. Continually the boys watched the street car stop to see if the parents were coming. In the meantime there were plans being made as to what to say about this serious accident. I didn’t want everyone to get in trouble so the decision was to fake it. When the parents came home, Helen told them the bad news; they turned to me at once, my eyes were dry and no crying. Pap ask if the fingers hurt, I shook my head in a gesture of no, but, I lied again. All they said was to be careful with Bertie because he is curious. We felt relieved but, I Still had pain. The next day, all was well.

The Girl next door was named Margaret, her and Helen became friends. Helen was visiting one evening and darkness set in so instead of walking around she decided to climb the fence. Margaret became a little exuberant and pushed, Helen fell on our side of the fence and sprained her arm. She came in the House and began using hot vinegar compresses, I asked, Dose it hurt Helen? She replied, Not so much. I felt she lied to so I laid my head on her hip and said It be alwight. In pain she replied Say it will be allright. From this day forward I knew that I had a private tutor in the house.

During the fall of the year we had some thunder storms, but one in particular stands out in my mind. The boys asked mom if they could go hiking with the fellow down the street who was a few years older, she had some misgivings but allowed them to go. Unfortunately after the sky had gone dark clouds began to form followed by lightening and loud thunder with heavy rain. Mother paced from room to room as an expectant father would at the hospital. She held her hands as if in prayer and cried out why did I allow them to go. At this point, My thoughts were a little more on mom than any thing else. When the lightning struck nearby, I was very frightened and wondered how soon this ordeal would be over. As with some thunder storms accompanied by heavy rain, it wasn’t long in duration. Soon the rain ceased and shortly thereafter the sun crept though the clouds and my heart was relieved but Mom was still worried. She kept looking down the hollow from the front porch. Finally her prayer was answered as she waved in joy to the three wet heads walking up the road without a care in the world. She was too happy to scold them but asked, where did you boys go during the heavy rain, Under a tree. was their reply. Mom said it was the worst place on earth to be during a dangerous storm. After this harrowing experience for quite a while I became very nervous when ominous clouds started moving in the sky. When Mom had to leave me with others in the family or a friend, I ask very frantically, Is it going to rain, is it Mom? She told me not to worry as long as I stayed in the house. Helen told me many times that God was talking to me when he made those sounds in the clouds. Nothing was said but there was this wonder why God had to be so loud. My big sister was in on every thing concerning the family; one day, she caught the boys smoking. Below our house and down the road a way was a bridge that crossed the stream; how convenient it seemed, to go under the bridge and smoke. Helen knew about this place and check it out on occasion. She told mom about the boys smoking. They sat behind the table showing their clenched fist at her in a very menacing gesture. Yes they were mom, yes they were. She told their friend that she did not want her brothers growth to be stunted. People believed that smoking would stunt one’s growth. Well, that was not the big immediate problem, mother worried that Pap would find out, most assuredly there’s a thrashing of the boys would be in the offing. She admonished the boys that Pap didn’t like young boys smoking since he did not smoke himself. Strangely enough I never heard much of the smoking problem after that incident. I’m sure they sneaked a smoke on occasion.

At times, Mom and I sat on the porch when weather permitted, Jimmy from down by the oil well, came walking up the street yelling, It’s raining, it’s snowing the teacher’s ass is growing, hoo ray hoo rah. At once Mom shoved me in the living room and locked the door on me. Well, I heard the statement and wondered what all the fuss was about. The immoral implications of that little rhyme never crossed my innocent mind. Later on I found out that mother walked behind Jimmy and asked if he was ashamed of making a statement like that but, he shouted the same thing very much louder. All mother could do is turn around and smile. When she came in, I asked if things were okay, she chuckled and smiled and told me everything was fine. Many times I wanted to sit on the porch and watch an occasional auto go by or a horse and wagon delivering produce. once he parked near our house and began complaining about things in general. The man next door said, You Know Business is business. He replied, Yes Business is business but the boy who shidt in my wagon got no business. It was heard by my pink ears but, my inner sense of digression told me that I better keep it quiet. Sister Helen did not resist the temptation to repeat it to Mom because she thought she was grown up enough. That was a mistake. She received a reprimand, then mom asked her where she heard such a thing. She explained that she was in the Alley when the grocer said it. Sitting on the front porch seemed to be very entertaining. One time, a young fellow came riding up the street on a very noisy motor cycle. At the Franklin bend the wheels slid on the loose stones and he fell off. Curiosity got the best of me and I left the porch to see what happened since I was permitted to go up as long as I didn’t cross the dangerous road. The neighbor said, Don’t go too close, Bertie. After seeing blood on the young fellows arm and elbow, any