The KIVA Chronicles: Volume 1

By G.P. Andrews and Beryl Ruth Wilder

The KIVA Chronicles is a fictional odyssey, intermittently fantasy, factual, suspenseful, and semi-autobiographical story of a boy growing up during the 1950's,60's, and 70's, and extending through his advanced studies in Europe contained in three Books which can be enjoyed in whole or in part.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GP Andrews, LLC.
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781685249342

G.P. Andrews

GP Andrews was born In Baltimore, MD and raised in western Pennsylvania. After his art educations at Pratt in NYC and in Europe he earned two engineering degrees and an MBA. After he retired from corporate America he also retired from a federal government position. These employments gave him extensive opportunities to travel and have great adventures. The animals were his great love and the last one is only recently deceased.

Book preview

The

KIVA

Chronicles

GP

Andrews

Illustrated by Beryl Wilder & GP Andrews

The KIVA Chronicles

Copyright © November 2021 by GP Andrews

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to: Permissions GP Andrews, LLC. 1171 Ellijay Road, Franklin, NC 28734.

ISBN 978-1-68524-934-2

Acknowledgments

One for the builder that stole a father’s heart.

From time’s awakening

to its final beckoning

To Ahren, my son, this legacy I leave

One for the iconographer that rescued me,

from a folly’s deep

then escorted me

through the endless edits

to the critters keep.

To Ruth, my wife, this debt of gratitude I pay.

One for the economist who helped along the way.

When times were dark

He calculated his way

and consumed words at a book a day.

Then bicycled his fat away.

To Tommy, my friend, this debt I pay.

Forward

The KIVA Chronicles, written by GP Andrews and illustrated by GP Andrews and Beryl Ruth Wilder, is an epic novel, over thirty years in the making, that combines several reading genres. Much like the Lord of the Rings or The Catcher and the Rye, it is a fictional odyssey, intermittently fantasy, factual, suspenseful, and semi auto biographical, of a boy growing up during the 1950’s,60’s and 70’s, and extending through his advanced studies in Europe. It contains in several books, much of the following which can be enjoyed in whole or in part:

A travelogue of adventures through the USA and Western Europe tells an easily readable tale of intrigue and events of ancient and modern history. Extensive colorful language creates a visionary dialogue of art, architecture, history, and philosophical discussions of many varied subjects to provide a genealogical, historical, and ideological portrait of an artist growing up during the Cold War, and the Vietnam War.

The overall story is a mystery that is woven and unravelled through many adventures as a youth and ultimately ending with extensive art studies in Europe. The KIVA Chronicles reveal the mystery through a series of gatherings called KIVAs that provide not only narrative and dialogue among and between animals, but also provides portals to the realm of the living. Thus, much like the indigenous communities of North America, the KIVA is s gathering place where the physical and spiritual realms intertwine over space and time.

Each KIVA contains relevant chapters that begin with colorful Allegories that lead you into the adventures. Following the Allegories, The Story is told by animals in the KIVA which contains portals to the multi-faceted realms of reality. The animals are the pets that lived with and served the boy during his life.

PROLOGUE

KIVAs

A

cross the Sea of Woedend, far above the windward crags of Sumptuous Mountain, the footpath meandered down the gentle leeward slopes, over and around the plump foothills, along the twisting streambed, deep into Fernwood forest, and opened into a lush green circular Kiva called Pleasuresboro.

The Sea of Woedend was a raging fluid mass of chaos, crossable only by the Galleon of Perdition. Giant, indiscriminating waves of violence and perversion, burst their caps into fierce sprays of pestilence, that saturated the decks of the Galleon. Within, a cache of creatures; abhorrent and disgusting, tortured and coveted, both good and evil such that no deadly sin was unscathed. Vomit spewed from the mouths of the wicked, upon both those of pure and darkened spirit.

At the harbor, the Galleon of Perdition spewed forth its contents upon the gangway of the Port of Indecision, where all nature of man and beast bested for triumph by all conceivable means.

The Port of Indecision had many dusky winding streets that ended where they began; and obscure passages to enigmatic starts and stops that falsely shifted; and elusive treats that evaporated when captured. A slick web it was, of cobblestone and wormwood that unknowingly snared its victims and injected its venomous lust. Yet, it was just a delusion of a web, that was a web of many webs. The sum of which coagulated beyond the masked horizon that made up the dreaded twin cities of Sordero-Fetiderrant.

The mysterious twin cities of Sordero-Fetiderrant had many sectors of entrapment, full of wonders and horrors for trade. All roads and pathways entered, but none led out. Like two swirling volcanic centroids towered in dripping steel, glass, and mirror, and melting brick and granite to fuel a hidden fusion engine vortex beneath an unctuous shifting river.

Beyond the twin cities of Sordero-Fetiderrant, tall and foreboding, rose the windward side of Sumptuous Mountain, dense with hostile vegetation intermingled with unsuspecting cliffs and crevices, only to be topped with tall slender spires of craggy rocks that reached randomly into a ring of rolling clouds.

Far above the clouds a polished white marble castle hosted cultural dignitaries on its circumspect veranda in the sunshine. From the veranda on the leeward side, wide polished white marble spiral steps led down to a brighter sidewalk which turned into a clear grassy pathway that disappeared into the landscape below.

Among the party was a man of wisdom. His white hair gently undulated in the breeze over bushy white eyebrows that framed soft blue eyes that held great depth. As he spoke, his eyes of enlightenment softly changed colors revealing a full spectrum of understanding.

You have climbed to the top of the highest mountain. Now you must traverse the smallest hills that pass through many places. There, at the Kiva, you will find my friends and yours, said the man of wisdom.

Pleasuresboro

P

leasuresboro consisted of a plushy carpet of slender green grass, and soft beds of thick dark four-leaved clover arranged in concentric terraces to perfectly accommodate any position one would care to assume. Above, in an eternal cloudless sky, constant sunlight that neither hurt the eyes nor burned the skin bathed the meadow except at night when all forms of stars and galaxies could be viewed with absolute clarity.

On the far end of the kiva, the stem cell of perpetuity, a supernatural spring from nowhere in particular, bubbled over flat rocks into a small pool of clear cool liquid that formed a mikvah of sustainability. The liquids simultaneously purified mind, body, and soul quenched all thirst, and satisfied all taste and hunger.

In the center of the kiva, an orb of constant crystalline embers glowed to view the known world. The embers nuanced in hue and intensity to match the many faces of life, sun, and stars. Each crystal presented a self-contained portal to the past and present.

Around the kiva gathered fifteen companions representing the living and dead, the undead and unliving, casually enjoying discourse across time and space. Occasionally, a few wandered to the far side to drink from the waters. Trixie, the chief matriarch, always took a position of prominence.

Rosco, Tea, and Borkus, as always, took their positions at arm’s length on the second tier of the starboard side, each sitting tall and rigid like unweathered sphinx with fixed eye apertures set to wide angle and infinite depth of field.

Beaukitty and Clover set the port anchor on the second and first tiers, respectively. Their demeanor and color was soft and silky, a pure fluffy white on shiny flowing black curls.

Rex and Rocky sat shoulder-to-shoulder close to the embers and always drank together for they were hatched from the same placenta. They were flanked by Chippie, Ellwood, and Koonie. T-Bone held helm on a position of importance above and directly in front of Rex and Rocky while Pokey, Yogi, and Scruffy filled in any gaps at random.

The upper tiers were always reserved for guests. Today was a day of many special guests. All of the relatives and associates were present. There was all the gang from the old neighborhood, the inner circles from school, and from college, and all the significant parties from many travels and experiences.

All were intermingled and socializing en masse as if at a cocktail party. Near the path at the entrance to the kiva, and apart from the others, stood several secret souls gathered in quiet discourse.

It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it, opened Trixie.

It has indeed, responded T-Bone, without her usual hesitation, despite holding only one eye open.

Pokey, Yogi and Scruffy nodded affirmatively without taking their eyes off the mini orb that they passed back and forth in varying feints of deception to throw Ellwood off guard.

Ellwood danced and flailed at the ball, hoping for the slightest slipup on the part of Pokey, Yogi, or Scruffy who all nodded in the affirmative without breaking concentration.

You mean… started Pokey.

Yes, Offered Tea elegantly, it’s time to marry the future and the past with the present.

First let me extend my praise for the flawless handoff from Trixie to Pokey.

And they did it without once taking their eyes off the orb. Yogi and Scruffy chimed in unison."

Beaukitty remained aloof: Both of you performed superlatively as masters, protectors, and teachers through turbulent years of strife, neglect, deceit, and creativity. But I fear the more difficult times are still to come.

How so, asked Pokey.

Well, Sonny-Boy has not yet experienced the true depth of loss; nor has he tasted of the true beauty and brutality of the world beyond the confines of his own household, replied Trixie

Still, I don’t think we need to rush into tragedy, Tea affectionately responded. Many moments of triumph and jubilation lie along this path.

Why not build on what Sonny-Boy learned from Butch’s windows, inquired Koonie.

God knows the duck and cover shock instilled a seminal fear of the dark side already, quipped Borkus with a tad of satire.

Just once, I’d like to see what you look like without your mask, said Chippie. You wear that thing whether you’re in service or off duty.

I have sensitive eyes, responded Koonie.

That has no bearing after dark, quipped Chippie.

That’s when I do my best work, Koonie retorted.

Then you should know what became of the painting of St. Theresa and the Sacred Heart, Chippie stated sarcastically.

Ah, that is the mystery; is it not?, Koonie questioned.

Members mumbled quietly to their nearest neighbor in indecision. At length, Rosco spoke up: Let us first have Uriel usher him through the passage and examine the path of the righteous one. Pokey, Tea and Ellwood may help much with their special skills.

Trixie threw in her full support: I think that is a sensational strategy, does everyone concur?

Who are you referring to as the righteous one, asked Koonie?

That’s Sonny Boy, you blind night-stalker, exclaimed Elwood.

No, Honeyboy is the righteous one, argued Chippie.

I think he’s referring to Holy Joe, countered Pokey.

I don’t think he is any of those, snapped T-Bone. It might have been Nikolai.

Rosco interrupted with a gentle voice of authority, Perhaps we should review the circumstances before coming to consensus. Enough frivolity! I think it is time to get these kivas started, stated Rosco wisely.

Everyone agreed.

Trixie opened the discussions…

The KIVA Chronicles

Book I

An Account of Peculiar Gatherings

The KIVA Chronicles

First Kiva

Perdition

---

Galleon

One

Pedigree

In a time not far from here, near a place not far from now, came a precocious yet extraordinary character called Sonny Boy. Of course, Sonny Boy wasn’t his real name, and secretly he despised it because for him, it conjured diabolic visions of demeaning unbridled violence from his father’s face.

Life hadn’t been easy for Sonny Boy; and within his touches and the acquaintenances of his personage included many of profound accomplishment and significant marginal contribution. Suffice it to say the wails and whimpers of Sonny Boy were the terminals of an odyssey of commensurate proportion.

Trixie’s Saga

Ishall begin this tale, but I shall not finish it. I am but the first in a chain of inconspicuous species that bear their own testimony. Together, we share a temporal-spatial collective consciousness that defines the perceptions worthy of mention. It is in reverence to all that passed in synergetic reincarnation, along with any believable hearsay and modern propagandas media, that I owe all accounts a priori . My successors fill the voids.

I am a stout yet simple coal black Cocker Spaniel with a brain of trivial proportion: gregarious and playful but viewed by mankind as not particularly profound. Accordingly, I was ingloriously referred to as Trixie. While I love to lick my paws and clean my silky haired moustache after a meal and delight in seeing the blackish purple and blue hues reflecting off my long curly fur in the waning sunshine, my dark un-lying eyes are ever watchful. Now I frolic in the afterlife along with my comrades in perception with fond recollections, and as such, can bear no false witness.

I lived with Sonny Boy for seven extraordinary man-years for which I am eternally grateful. During that time, Sonny Boy could not explain why he wanted to be an artist. Unknowingly, he taught me that the spirit of the artist is the essence of the man, not the work. It is the unbridled quest for greatness and solution, the ultimate pursuit of goodness and beauty, and the process of creation and appreciation. It is the spiritual communion with life and love. It is the mystery, the dichotomy, the exploitation, the temptation, the strength, and the rapture of self-actualization. It is a metaphysical rebound from fearful insanity to mankind’s transcendence and reflective imminence.

What follows is the strength of temptation and tolerance, the dichotomy of holiness, the exploits of Sonny Boy, the flight of the eagle, the mystery of the maze, and the rapture of the one."

Roots

Trixie walked slowly to the orb and pulled out a single glowing light blue eight-sided crystal that opened the first portal to the past. The light blue light spread across the kiva in a gentle shock wave, turning everyone’s eyes an ice blue. Even Beaukitty’s green and blue eyes appeared the same color.

Nicolai was a great storyteller and visited often in early days. He was strange in his own right but full of joviality, gifts, and history. You could always depend on Nicolai for a chunky biscuit and an unusual trinket followed by a learning lesson for the siblings. To Nicolai we owe much understanding of ancestry. As a young pup, I would often lay spread eagle on the cool white linoleum floor with my thin black paw fur licked outward. I loved the contrast and slept with one eye open as Nicolai rambled about the past.

And would you say that Nicolai was a righteous man? challenged Borkus.

I would indeed! responded Trixie without hesitation.

But he seemed so confused.

That was very true as the years and the memories of war gnawed on him. But in Sonny Boy’s formative days, the heart of Nicolai was pure.

Thanks Trixie. I might like to revisit this when you talk about his model airplanes.

Of course, Trixie continued. Based on my understanding of Nicolai’s accounts, a boiling caldron erupted somewhere in the East. Borkus, perhaps you can elaborate.

Borkus, a stout brown and black German Shepherd, and the historian of the group, was quick to oblige. Monarchies died off as borders changed like a flip book, he began, "so much so that map-makers struggled to keep current with the changes. The Austro-Hungarian Empire emerged as the potential integrator of nations in deep conflicting ritual. A new instability under German influence yielded to western expansion of an ideology called communism. Families migrated from one country to another in search of constancy. They found little. Throughout its history of invasion and conquest, Eastern Europe’s been a hotbed of racial, political, and religious tension. Sometime before World War I, the Austro-Hungarian Empire tried to consolidate into a common nation. Tight ethnic groups became disgruntled and the hereditary monarchies’ domination ceased.

Integration of cultures and governments became an explosive issue. National language became such a heated debate in the parliament of the Empire that discussions regarding the national budget were neglected. Separate schools were established for Czechs and Italians. German became the official language and stirred hatred among the indigenous enclaves. Distrusts stemming from acquisitions of Bosnia and Herzegovina with large Turkish and Islamic populations further fueled racial tensions. Students rioted in Prague and were squelched by police charging crowds with bayonets. Czech postal officials were attacked at Eger, and the Czechs at Krakow boycotted German businesses. Italians demanded an Italian university at Trieste at the same time that the Slavic nationalities made similar requests. Budget deficits forced massive reductions in education, health care, and spawned release of lunatics from State asylums."

T-Bone rose slowly and steadily. She was the Mae West of English Bulldogs. With a pure white head and red and white markings on her curvy body, her dark eyes, coal black nose and plump black lips, she presented an image of seductive enticement.

The instability under German influence appears to be in stark contrast to the modern-day perceptions of German culture that favor everything in order, she pronounced in a Winston Churchill demeanor. I draw your attention to the adage: German trains run on time. This bears no reflection on Rosco, Borkus, and Theodora’s lineage, mind you.

Everyone chuckled at T-Bone’s impressive impersonation of WC.

Scruffy quickly interjected as if he had to pee and could wait no longer:

This bears striking similarities and comparison to the evolution of sexless societies in Western cultures during the first two decades of the 21st Century. Ethnic lines gave way to interracial marriages, declining populations, massive immigration, social unrest, and political divisiveness between matriarchically and patriarchic-ally dominated parties.

Very perceptive T-Bone, said Borkus in support. And Scruffy is just full of piss and vinegar. It took the Huns centuries to develop the High Gothic Architectural order of the German cathedrals, which I surmise met their share of papal resistance. The struggle was further exacerbated by efforts to not only separate church and state, but also to set aside the authority of the Catholic Church.

Why do you have to bring religion into this discussion, cried Beaukitty?

Well, retorted Borkus, as we know, religion played a big part in the ancestral conflict of Sonny Boy’s lineage; and at the time of his grandparent’s migration, the seats in the electorate for the largely Turkish and Islamic Bosnia and Herzegovina, which were part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, were fixed according to the number of people of each religion. Then, in June of 1914 in the city of Sarajevo, the heir to the throne of the Empire, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was gunned down by a Slavic nationalist who saw the assassination as the key that would free his people from the Empire.

And was he Catholic, asked Beaukitty?

Who, the Archduke, or the Slavic nationalist that gunned him down?

No, you pompous ass. I thought we were talking about Nicolai.

Well, it just stands to reason, said Borkus. Slovaks were typically either Jewish or Catholic.

Actually, Nicolai was Catholic, said Trixie, but the influence of Judaism in the pedigree is a good question because not all of his ancestors came from beyond the Pale. Regardless, as I have attested, I believe Nicolai was a righteous man, for he was insightful and spiritual, almost to the point of clairvoyant. While he dressed as a pauper, he often conveyed deep thoughts.

According to Uncle Nikki, Ivan saw, across the world, a new country rises like a Phoenix from the ashes from a Civil War into a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. From those roots of war emerged an industrial nation of tremendous might that developed an ardent anti-communism ideology.

Belgorod

Trixie pulled a short dull lemon yellow crystal from the orb and the light blue kiva light transitioned to yellow.

"When not used to support dishes and human food, the kitchen table could most aptly be referred to as either the ring of wisdom or the box of ignorance. Around the yellow oval, rimmed in pressed chrome, the elders sat and debated endlessly over family, history, politics, religion, race, and the occasional predestination versus reincarnation, or fascism, versus communism, the latter spoken with considerable disdain.

My canine brain often had difficulty discerning the various sides of the debates. Pure logic and reason seemed cleverly disguised in arguments of concurrence."

From the kitchen table discussions, a few principles were unwavering clear. First, no one understood the Buddhists, and had no idea what the fat guy really stood for, mainly because he was always sitting on his ass. Some of the uncles thought he was married to the woman with all the extra arms. Second, members of the Negro race were referred to as Darkies that knew how to dance and could run faster than cops, but no one ever rendered an opinion otherwise. Third, the only recognizable feature of the Muslims was that they gave everyone equal choice to become a Muslim or die. Fourth, the Jews killed Christ. Irish were drunken scum, except for the Irish Catholics that sacramentally took wine with their bread. Scots were just a poorly dressed brand of Irish. Catholics, Protestants and Jews hated but tolerated each other because we lived in a free country. Some even intermarried against their respective family’s wishes and were subsequently disowned. The commies however, clearly, and consistently hated the Catholics, Protestants and Jews; but they especially hated the Americans. Everyone that ever sat at the kitchen table universally hated the commies but to my recollection, none ever reached universal agreement on the nature of that ideology.

Scruffy looked puzzled, as he always did, Trixie, how do you think they perceived the differences between Catholics, Protestants and Jews?

Chippy, a little tongue-in-cheek, blurted: Catholics, focus on raw flesh and blood while Protestants downplay the edibles and place more emphasis on Sterling. Jews of course, focus their investments on pure gold. Their only common ground is guilt.

That’s ridiculous, said T-Bone.

"Well, a lot of their viewpoints were ridiculous, explained Borkus"

Trixie redirected, Perhaps, but the ‘kitchen cabinet’ views were not universal in the extreme. Otherwise, arguments on the matter could not have been either interesting or logical. Granted, there was a prevailing belief that Catholicism was the one and only true church established directly by Jesus Christ, and as such, only Catholic believers could ever get to see the face of the Christ. Protestants could still go to heaven but could never attain that one special benefit reserved for good Catholics because only Catholic priests could actually perform transubstantiation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. In addition, as we know from the Christian persecutions of the middle ages, there was a strong element of self-denial not fervently embraced by various protestant denominations. As for Judaism, understanding was at best, confusedly based on dubious ethnic origin.

Borkus, considering himself somewhat of an Eastern European historian, volunteered an explanation from a variety of sources. Prior to Ferdinand’s assassination, tensions in Russia boiled over while the idea of a more equitable world stimulated both social unrest and westward migration. Despite the fact that Russia maintained neutrality during the Franco-Prussian wars, internal pressures on the Russian monarchy forced peasant reforms, and eventual Cultural Revolution. Ethnic bigotries flourished as countries to the east shifted control. Within Russia, Moscow became the capital of Christian Orthodox Religion and the ‘Pale, a thin stretch of land running from Poland to the Baltic, isolated the Jews in a reign of tyranny under the monarchy. Many migrated into neighboring Slavic and Germanic countries to escape oppression. Some even intermarried into other faiths and nationalities: clearly outside the norm.

With the release of Karl Marx’s Communist manifesto in 1848, political opposition to the oppression by Divine Right gathered momentum. Marx argued that the differences between countries would diminish as they adopted capitalism and increased their international trade, paving the way for a stateless world united in communism. Thus, he defined the bourgeoisie as those whose income comes from doing business rather than--like the aristocracy--from inherited estates or--like the proletariat--from wages. He further argued that the bourgeoisie were revolutionary in nature, it was because business changed and controlled law and politics. His teachings are summarized in the following statement:

"Marx spent relatively little time outlining the nature of communist society, but the goals were widely understood to be:

complete equality of all citizens,

abolition of private ownership of the means of production (factories, mines, railways, etc.),

replacement of a market economy with one in which everyone got whatever they needed in return for such labor as they were able to give.

abolition of all states and governments, and as a consequence, an end to war.

The crucial problem of how one motivates workers in a state which is both free and property-less was never solved by the Marxist states of the 20th century."

While Marxism did not have direct cause in the peasant uprisings that led to the Russian Revolution, the tyranny of the monarch stimulated attempts to implement Marxist ideology. A long period of social unrest ensued with substantial migrations of Russians to Eastern Europe. The Russian Revolution began with the election of the first parliament. Twelve years later, the Bolsheviks orchestrated by Lenin seized power beginning the era of Communist rule. The subsequent execution of Nicholas II ended rule by Divine Right and paved the way for the formation of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics in 1922 with the New Economic Policy that installed the community (called soviets) as owners of land and property."

During this period of political turmoil and social unrest, continued Trixie, Sonny Boy’s ancestry established their biases, shed their shackles, and made exodus from Eastern Europe and Mother Russia on a journey to the land of opportunity. On their shoulders, they carried their orthodox religious beliefs, work ethics, prejudicial cultural fabrics, and matching social graces.

Ivan and Nadia were born in the region between Prague and Moscow in 1887 and 1890, respectively. In the middle lay the Pale. Details of their first encounter together remain a mystery. What is known is that they were married by a captain aboard a steamship that departed from Northern Italy bound for New York City before the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Nadia’s sister Setka bore witness to the nuptial.

Nobody knew what language Great-aunt Setka really spoke, explained Borkus. Some claim she spoke Czechoslovakian, Some claim Russian. Others claim Hungarian or even Polish. I personally believe the former because Setka literally means aunt in Slovak. Some say Ivan was Russian Orthodox. Some even say he was Jewish and converted to save his ass from the commies.

Perhaps the only certainty, continued Trixie, "is that Nadia spoke Russian, Slovak, and Hungarian, and nothing else. It was clear that Nadia was both Christian and holy. She had a red cross embroidered in the center of her chest on every dress she wore. Perhaps she only wore one dress. Anyway, she gave birth to Holy Joe, and for most, that was proof of her righteousness.

Ivan and Nadia immigrated to the United States, through Ellis Island as did millions of others, and settled in the coal mining region of Western Pennsylvania. There, they bore a family of one girl and five boys. Two man-children died in childbirth, and both were buried with the namesake Ivan. Sonny Boy’s father entered the world about eight years prior to the Great Depression. When it came to family history, Holy Joe never spoke of anything a priori or post priori, and Sonny Boy bore little resemblance to his father or siblings.

My master Sonny Boy, was thusly born of dubious lineage."

Northern Roots

Trixie replaced the dull lemon yellow crystal and withdrew another crystal from the orb. This crystal glowed dark forest green revealing a panorama of lush tree-covered hills interrupted by sumptuous, sweet grassy pastures and meandering mountain streams.

Trixie continued her monologue. "Western Pennsylvania is one of the most integrated regions of ethnic segregation in the United States of America. A stopping point for western migration from the ports of New York at the turn of the century, European clans rapidly settled in the tiny valleys of the hills at the base of Appalachia, which abounded in fresh water and natural resources bared to the world by the industrial revolution.

Observance of the topography of Western Pennsylvania reveals much about its early settlement. With the lush forests of Penn’s Woods, its rich topography of rolling mountains and irregular hills, it is no surprise that in the early days of settlement, the preferred mode of transportation was by boat. First settlements sprung up in the river valleys and migrated into the feeder freshwater streams beneath the hills. ‘Like-kind’ assembled in proximity according to their ethnic origins and hamlets and villages of different ethnic purity flourished."

Coal was plentiful and a preferred source of heat through the cold and snowy winters, offered Borkus. "Coal also had the highly desirable industrial characteristic of burning hot enough to melt metal. The names of towns like Shamrock, Irishtown, Tippecanoe, Sitka, and Newcomer, often reflected the ethnic purities; while others like Factory Hill, Bessemer, Furnace Hill, Oliphant Furnace, Carbon, and Standard Shaft, reflected the industrial focus.

The period before the Great Depression, brought industrial prosperity to the region. Famous families like the Carnegies, Mellon’s, Morgan’s, Joneses and Laughlin’s, helped the City of Pittsburgh emerge as the global king of steel, fed by ore-laden barges from upstream towns along three major rivers.

The railroads also played a major role in connecting towns and delivering raw materials to the plants and finished goods to the world. Small feeder operations, foundries, and finishing plants sprang up in the region turning it into a wonderland of opportunity with a bustling and powerful work ethic. In the mid-fifties, the Railroad completed the famous Horseshoe Curve, connecting Philadelphia with the industrial might of the City of Steel."

With prosperity, said Trixie, came neglect for both the environment and the fellow man that transformed the raw materials into riches. Industry indiscriminately desecrated the environment in pursuit of the good life. Streams and rivers were contaminated with sulfur laden yellow boy, an effluent that turned streams sterile and killed all forms of aquatic flora and fauna.

"Perhaps one of the greatest examples of neglect for the fellow man was the Johnstown Flood of 1889. High above the City of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, the Old South Fork Dam at the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club in the Allegheny Mountains gave way sending 20 million tons of water boiling with chunks of debris, crashing down the valley and destroyed the working-class city.

Two thousand two hundred and nine people lost their lives and thousands more were injured as a sixty-foot wall of water tore through the city below. In the aftermath, most survivors laid the blame for the dam's failure squarely at the feet of the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. They had bought the abandoned reservoir, hastily repaired the old dam, and raised the lake level. They subsequently built cottages and a clubhouse in their secretive retreat in the mountains for the rich and famous.

Members were wealthy Pittsburgh steel, coal, and railroad industrialists, politicians and attorneys, and railroad magnates. Among the most prominent members were Andrew Carnegie, Andrew Mellon, and Henry Clay Frick.

There is no question about the shoddy condition of the dam, but no successful lawsuits were ever brought against club members for its failure and the resulting