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Tag: city steps
What's Up with WATSOP? A Q&A with Lisa Valentino on Her Quest to Walk Every Street in Pittsburgh
One down, 89 to go. Artist Lisa Valentino having just completed walking every street in Garfield.
At the Orbit, we like to think we've, you know, been around. To have at least set a foot in all of Pittsburgh's 90 neighborhoods, sure, but also up city steps and down back alleys, poked behind dumpsters and into collapsing buildings, we've partied with weed-eating goats on the South Side and wild turkeys in Allegheny Cemetery, we know where the wild blackberries can be picked in June and the pawpaws fall in September.
All that bragging and when it comes to seeing Pittsburgh–like, really seeing Pittsburgh–we're still holding Lisa Valentino's Olde Frothingslosh.
IRL word cloud for the Orbit: Heaven and Hell, sin and blood. Front yard decoration in Lincoln-Lemington-Belmar.
Valentino is an artist by day and an urban hiker by … the other parts of the day. Five years ago she set out with the ambitious goal of walking all the streets of Pittsburgh. That project–usually shortened to the acronym WATSOP–takes an impressive amount of discipline, organization, and physical stamina, but we're consistently bowled-over by Valentino's oddball finds in the field.
Yeah, sure–I've been to Lincoln-Lemington plenty of times–but never came across the Heaven & Hell painted garden edger thingamagigs. And how about the Valentine's Day skeleton of Brookline? It was Lisa who hooked us up with Barbie's Dream Cult in Polish Hill.
SO, we thought it was high time to check in with Valentino and find out what's up with WATSOP, how she came up with the project, keeps track of where she's been, and what she's learned along the way.
Editor's note: Typically, for a story like this, we'd do a walk-along to chronicle the process. But between the timely need for social distancing and the fact that Lisa's photos are already so great, this story involved zero field work. All photos courtesy of Lisa Valentino.
Barbie's Dream Cult, Polish Hill
How did you come up with the idea to walk all of Pittsburgh's streets?
First, for four years I had been doing Project 365–take one photo every day and post on social media. At four years one exhausts everything familiar (yes, one day I photographed all the doorknobs in my house at the 11th hour). I was already in the habit of searching and exploring for something different and new to catch my eye.
Then I stumbled upon Félix de la Concha's One A Day at the alumni hall at Pitt. His 365 paintings of the Cathedral of Learning from as many different perspectives got me really noticing when the iconic building would pop into view as I traveled in and out of the city. One day, while starting the climb to the slopes on a walk in the South Side I saw the Cathedral in the distance and wondered "from how many locations will I see a view of the Cathedral?" Then it hit me…. "Let's find out!" And "what else will I find?" And "Why not walk ALL THE STREETS OF PITTSBURGH to SEE what I will find?!" And there it was!
View of Oakland and Pitt's Cathedral of Learning from the South Side Slopes
What are the parameters of the project?
When I set off to do this, the first hurdle was finding a map! Many Pittsburgh maps only encompassed areas close to downtown. Maps that included a bit of a wider range did not have enough detail to show every street. So I began to search for any map that would show and name my two block street in Point Breeze.
After settling on the perfect map, a Bike Pittsburgh Map, I started marking off my walked streets. If it's on the map, I walk it. As the years have gone by several new streets have popped up that are not on my map, but more surprising are the number of streets that seemed to have disappeared. Most due to abandonment, I suppose. Overgrown with trees and weeds and barely a path to indicate a street was ever there.
I walk every street, alley, and dead-end in the city. I will not do the highways/parkways unless there is a patch that keeps me off those busy roads. I only do city steps if they get me from one street to another. Because they are not on the Bike Pgh map, I don't count them as walking the streets. (Perhaps someone needs to come up with a Walk Pgh map?) Though I will say, there is nothing more delightful than stumbling upon a set of city steps to take me to the next street and avoiding doubling back from where I just came!
"I walk every street, alley, and dead-end in the city." Homewood
When did you start? Do you have an estimated completion date?
My first intentional Walking All the Streets of Pittsburgh walk was May 18, 2015. When I started I foolishly thought I could finish in one year. I suppose if I did nothing else in the year and suffered no setbacks I could have. I mean, it's easy to walk 1000 miles in a year, right? Averaging less than 3 miles a day?! But life never works that way. Twice I lost months of walking due to back problems that left me unable to do much more than lay on the floor watching the Hays eagle cam for weeks at a time!
As I approach the anniversary with nearly five years under my belt, I would love to finish by May 18, 2020. But that looks unlikely. You know, life.
View of Allentown and top of the USX Tower from Knoxville
How often do you walk (for the project) and for how long? How do you plan the schedule for the walks?
When I started walking, I walked everywhere I could from my house in Point Breeze: to Squirrel Hill for shopping and movies; to Regent Square and Shadyside for lunch and dinner dates with friends. To doctors appointments in Oakland. I jumped on any reason to walk from my house to anywhere I had to go.
Then any time I needed to get in the car to travel somewhere I'd squeeze in a chance to walk before coming back home. Visiting family in the South Hills had me stopping to cross off streets in southern neighborhoods. I'd Google laundromats and search for ones in outlying neighborhoods so I could walk between cycles. I looked forward to appointments and meetings as another opportunity to explore a new neighborhood.
The length of the walks and number of times I walked each week varied depending on my schedule, my health, the weather, and hours of daylight. I would stop to cross off one street in a sea of walked streets as I drove past a neighborhood, or, in the summer with its long hours of daylight, I'd do two big walks, one in the morning and one in the evening while the light lingered.
These days I find myself needing to drive about a half hour each way to get to a neighborhood where I need to walk, having completed most of streets in the Triangle (east of the Point).
The Valentine's Day skeleton of Brookline
How do you track where you've been?
After a walk I'd take a Sharpie to the Bike Pgh maps to cross off streets. I had one copy of the map I'd take with me on walks as reference, and one hung on my wall as a display. I soon began using the MapMyWalk app to track my route because it became hard to remember and focus on the route, especially while walking with friends. Then the map became hard to read. With all those Sharpie route tracings, it was a less reliable resource for where I still needed to walk. So I began marking my walks in Google Maps. While the travel map is tattered and torn beyond usefulness, I do still use it fas a prop or my final picture in a completed neighborhood. And the display map hangs proudly on my wall and is updated after each walk.
Valentino's "display" copy of the Bike Pittsburgh map, marked with all currently-walked streets (as of some point in 2019)
Now that you've been doing this a while, what's the biggest difference between your pre-project expectations and the reality of the walks?
Well, if the project started as a quest to see the various viewpoints of the Cathedral of Learning, I can say that I've added to that the many wonderful views of downtown beyond Mount Washington. Not just those northern neighborhood views that were entirely new to me, but also the delightful surprise of turning a corner in a southern Hilltop neighborhood to see the very tops of the tallest buildings peeking over the horizon or sandwiched between two houses.
I have also become quite obsessed with water towers. Not only for their unique design and a new appreciation for the engineering to keep satisfactory water pressure in our homes. But also as the best orientation markers the city has to offer. You can view the city skyline and the Cathedral of Learning as a compass pointing you to downtown and Oakland, but seeing the bulbous water tower of the Upper Hill and the Garfield water tower in the same view allows me to put in perspective all the neighborhoods at once.
Holy Hell, these hills! I know they say Canton is the steepest, but thankfully it is quite short. And when walking straight up them I can name a number of streets that seems to have access to the same claim (most of them also in Beechview)! It hadn't occurred to me that such a hilly terrain is somewhat unique in this country until a friend from Illinois commented on them. I love the city for the hills and the views they provide, and I curse them when I'm tired and the only way to go is UP!
Holy Hell, these hills! City steps, Troy Hill.
What is/are the biggest disappointment(s) you've experienced through the project?
Oddly enough, it's been the number of warnings I've gotten to avoid certain areas. To date, I have never had a problem walking in any of the neighborhoods. And in "those" neighborhoods, if anything, I have found THE nicest, most friendly Pittsburghers!
Spring on the South Side Slopes
If you had an hour-long sit-down meeting with, say, Mayor Peduto (or other city planning officials) what would be your strongest recommendation for action based on what you've learned/seen in your project?
Preserve the city steps! This is such a unique, wonderful asset and a beautiful reminder of our pre-car days. [Editor's note: A to the MEN!]
I love to walk, I love to bike, and I love having a car to get around. But I think people have forgotten that WE ARE ALL PEDESTRIANS and we are all pedestrians FIRST. Before we bike, before we own cars, we walk. And no matter how we get to our destination, we all need to walk those final steps. So I do hope the city continues to keep pedestrian accessibility a priority. Fixing city steps, maintaining and keeping sidewalks clear, dedicated crosswalks and other traffic calming measures to keep the pedestrians safe and motivated to travel by foot.
Valentino's canine companion on a set of city steps, Perry North
Does such a close block-by-block inspection of the city make you more or less optimistic about Pittsburgh/America/humanity?
Humanity? I tend to run into very few people on my walks. I would say those that I do run into have been friendly, willing to talk and share stories and point out some things that might interest me. I always walk away with a newfound hope for humanity after those encounters, yes.
Pittsburgh? I know everyone has their preferences on this, but I am not excited to see all these big development projects popping up all over the place. Lawrenceville seems to be the worst of it. And of course there is displacement, which is a whole other issue. There is so much beauty and history that would be wonderful to preserve.
Rev. Murray, Hazelwood
What do you feel like you've learned through the project?
EASY!! I've fallen in love with this city!
Easy to love. Greenfield/"The Run," Parkway east, and Cathedral of Learning.
I've heard there's another person also attempting a similar walk-all-Pittsburgh-streets project (but I'm not in contact with her). Are you familiar? Have you ever crossed paths?
I am not at all proud of this, but my gut reaction was "someone is trying to steal my idea." After I had committed about 4 years to this unique quest it hit me kind of hard. It has taken a while to come to terms with it, but in the end it helped me on my walks. Because we are often photographing the same quirky finds on our walks, it led me to feel less inclined to photograph everything. So on days that I'm being tangled by two puppies as I try to cover streets, I can let go of trying to get photographs. I know Megan will or has found those things already.
And, of course, her approach is much different than mine. She blogs about her walks with much detail and folks should definitely follow her. My approach has always been, as a visual artist, to explore and discover and photograph what I find interesting. My hope would be that by doing so I have encouraged people to want to go out and find or discover the hidden gems of this city for themselves. That is why I tend to give very little detail on where the photos are taken, beyond naming the neighborhood.
Valentino with map at the completion of walking Squirrel Hill
For more on Lisa Valentino's art and creative projects, see her website LisaVCreative.com, Instagram @LisaVCreative, and WATSOP Facebook page.
Related: This story about one person's quest to walk all of the things in the city can't help but remind us of Laura Zurowski's similar-but-different project to locate, climb, photograph, and blog about all 739 sets of city steps. More process, less volume, but equally fascinating. See: Step Beat: Talking Missed Connections and Mis.Steps with Ms. Steps (Pittsburgh Orbit, March, 2018).
Step Beat: The Steps of California-Kirkbride, Part 2: Hyena and Marvista
Hyena Way alley and steps, California-Kirkbride
Apparently, the Internet informs us, North America once hosted its very own hyena. The Chasmaporthetes ossifragus managed to cross the Bering Land Bridge from Asia, make its way south to present-day Arizona and Mexico, and then east to what's now Florida. There's no mention of the big cat up here in the Northeast. This smaller, faster hyena seems to have gone extinct around one million years ago.[1]
So how did a little North Side alley and dramatic flight of 166 city steps end up with the name Hyena Way? We have no idea. But the loosey-goosey manner with which Pittsburgh ended up naming its back alleys would make for a near endless supply of Orbit fodder–if only we knew how to figure out the explanations.
looking down from the top of Hyena Way with view of downtown Pittsburgh and Mt. Washington
When last we left you, Team Orbit was ascending the cluster of vertical streets on the eastern half of California-Kirkbride. The North Side neighborhood is small, but hosts an outsize number of both steps and viewpoints. Today we head just a couple blocks west to the thrilling pair of steps that meet at the end of the paved section of Hyena Way.
Visible from the main road as a straight climb right up the hillside, Hyena Way begs for a visit from anyone glancing in from California Ave. and excited about such things. We are powerless against this siren call, and thus continued the journey up, over, around, and down.
looking down from the top of Marvista Street
All that mumbo-jumbo last week about how you can see so much more before the leaves come back to the trees really makes sense on these two stretches. Both flights have tall spindly trees right up to the handrails and it's obvious they'll generate a thick canopy over the walkways soon enough. That'll be beautiful in its own right, but it behooves the step-hiker to catch these long views while she or he can.
From Hyena, you're looking almost due south, over the railyards and Manchester, across rivers to downtown and Mount Washington. It's a lovely, long scope that encompasses many great landmarks in the city all from one vantage point.
Marvista is perpendicular to Hyena and therefore faces west as one looks out from the top. There are fewer name-brand attractions in this direction, but it's no less a pleasure to take in the landscape all the same.
At the intersection of Marvista Street and Hyena Way, a network of steps and ghost steps
Where Marvista and Hyena meet is a fascinating cluster of still-in-use city steps (the two main flights) plus obsolete connectors and spurs–often terminating at empty foundations and tree-filled lots. The complexity of steps at this junction speaks to those same refrains we think about on most of these hikes: how this once-dense city neighborhood lost the vast majority of both its population and housing stock in the 140-or-so years since it was laid out and the fact that no one really needs to hike down the hillside every day to get to work. This gruesome one-two punch make any like them endangered species.
But as infrastructure of pleasure–recreation, meditation, and speculation, not to mention a history lesson in every walk–the steps of Hyena Way and Marvista Street are just about as exciting and beautiful as anywhere in the city. Some–certainly those who prefer solitude and exploration–will argue they're even more valuable than their well-dressed and more popular peers along the riverfronts or up on Grandview Ave.
Marvista Street
There was a plan to include a map and suggested walking route for all the steps in California-Kirkbride. But as we plotted it out on paper, there was just no obvious loop to bag all the steps and get you back to where you started. It was going to end up being a confusing figure-8 or something and the truth is that it's just not that hard to come up with your own plan if you're so-inclined.
The trees are budding, so you won't have these views for long. Get up there, stretch your gams, and keep your eyes open–maybe you'll even spot one last hyena.
ghost steps, lower Marvista Street
Step Beat is an occasional series where The Orbit describes interesting features of Pittsburgh's 700+ sets of public city steps.
[1] Source: Brian Switek, "North America Used to Have its Very Own Hyena," Smithsonian Magazine, Oct. 3, 2016. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/north-america-once-had-hyena-its-very-own-180960673/
Step Beat: The Steps of California-Kirkbride, Part 1: Sunday Sunny Sunday
March 24, 2019 March 31, 2019 1 Comment
B Street, with view of downtown Pittsburgh, California-Kirkbride
In a few weeks (fingers crossed) everything will look different. The signs are all there: we've crossed the vernal equinox, birds are chirping their beaks off, full daylight exists before and after work, the first purple and gold crocuses are nudging their little flower heads from packed earth and sad-looking grass.
But for now, Pittsburgh still exists in its foliage-free late-winter monochrome of gray-brown. Bare trees are just spindly brown stalks. Hillsides have been reduced to impenetrable rats nests of last year's dried up knotweed, tall grass, and loose vines. Grassy patches have typically turned into either a boggy mess or–in the case of this relatively dry winter–parched yellow straw.
The sky usually doesn't help matters. A thick blanket of gray clouds casts its pall across the landscape more often than not; the absence of Vitamin D a severe depressant for the sun-deprived this time each year.
B Street, from Lamont
But not on this day! Last Sunday the blue above was so iridescently deep and rich, the sun so full and bright, and clouds just picture-perfect cotton balls, that it seemed to kick in the door of spring a week early, even if the plants hadn't gotten the message.
You don't have to tell this blogger twice: it was step-climbing weather if there ever was such a thing. So we lit off for the little North Side neighborhood of California-Kirkbride, home to a smattering of getting-fixed-up row houses, some terrific views, and–depending on how one counts them–five or six or seven great sets of city steps.
St. Ives Street (foreground) and Sunday Street (in back)
Now, truth be told, we'd just been to the neighborhood 24 hours earlier–though admittedly, unenlightened and on a tighter timeline. The previous day was all of the above–chilly, desolate, and bleak. On that occasion we only got as far as the intersecting steps of St. Ives and Sunday streets and their eventual top-of-hill conclusion at Oriana. The latter parallels the old stone wall surrounding Union Dale Cemetery.
From the top of the steps, the day hiker is rewarded with interesting views both across the roofs of Manchester to downtown and over the river to Mount Washington. Turning the other direction, we can see right into the headstones and treetops of the looming cemetery.
Little B Street–connecting Lamont to Morrison–is well worth your time while you're over there. It's just a block long, but dramatically steep and featuring a pair of accessible-only-by-steps row houses. There's another nice view at the top.
a day earlier: gray view from top of Sunday Street
Here's the thing they don't tell you about a (late) winter step trek: you get to see so much more! Yes, soon enough this entire scene will be filled with lush green as Pittsburgh's chronic humidity will prompt every bare patch of earth to sprout life, spread outward, and reach up into the sky.
All that overpowering tree, shrub, vine, and weed growth is a wondrous and beautiful thing, but it sure cuts down on the available sight lines. Every step trekker knows it's a four-seasons hobby; in winter, we get the longest views.
Oriana Street steps and Union Dale Cemetery
Now, at this point, astute Orbit readers and chronic step-walkers are either rabid with anticipation or out-and-out screaming into their electronic devices. What about the rest of the neighborhood? They might say, You're totally missing the best parts!
Fear not, dear reader. California-Kirkbride doesn't have the largest quantity of steps in the city, but it still has too many to cover in just one post. We've also got a part 2 wherein the crew scales the deep hollow steps on the western side of the neighborhood. Hopefully we'll see you on the steps.
view from lower Sunday Street
Precious Metal: The Disappearing Legacy öf Hard Rock Graffiti
All we've got is a photograph: Def Leppard (c. 1983), Sharpsburg
There was a time when giants walked the earth. Abbreviated to just single power words, their names are legend: Zeppelin, Priest, Dokken, Maiden, Krokus, Crüe. Burnouts, D-20 rollers, and teenage hair-farmers alike analyzed Tolkien-meets-toking mysticism, tapped and plucked modal riffage on second-hand battle axes, and armored themselves in a suburban denim-and-studs couture. Umlauts döminated every pössible occasiön. Yes, it was the very best of times.
The penance for an enviable life rich in metal mullets, keg beer consumed by a river, double bass drums, and a perpetual soreness in the neck and ringing in the ears was to pay tribute to one's idols in the most public, lasting, and respectful way: half-assedly spray-painting their names on dimly-lit concrete walls.
Communication breakdown: Led Zepp(elin) (c. 1980), Hazelwood
This ain't the summer of love: Blue Öyster Cult (hook and cross logo) (c. 1981), New Brighton
Existing somewhere between the cave paintings at Lascaux and ballpoint etchings committed by high school students into classroom desks and Trapper Keepers, metal/hard rock graffiti occupies a very particular place in modern cultural history.
In the city (at least), we see graffiti everywhere–to the point it becomes a kind of visual white noise, unnoticed for its omnipresence. Every alley, dumpster, and bus shelter is tagged-up; jersey barriers, concrete infrastructure, and the back sides of traffic signs bear a familiar scrawl and riot of puckering stickers. In some places you'll see elaborate full-color wall-sized tags and in others, pithy sophomoric humor. But nobody–and I mean nobody–ever paints graffiti to praise rock stars–or any other musicians–anymore. You just don't see it.
Caught somewhere in time: Iron Maiden (c. 1984), Munhall [photo: Lee Floyd]
Ace of Spade (sic) (Motörhead) (c. 1980), New Brighton
Like Stonehenge and Chichen Itzá, these primitive tributes dating from the late Cold War have stood stalwart through the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs flow. Indeed, twenty, thirty, even forty years on we still see their traces…if you know where to look.
The jean jacket alchemists who spun black vinyl into precious metal blazed the names and iconography of their heroes in the kinds of places teenagers hung out before anyone in the gang had a car and long before the Internet existed. Some of these remain, blessedly untouched by the hands of public works crews with more important things to take care of.
Judas Priest (c. 1984), Rising Main city steps, Fineview
Iron Maiden (c. 1984), Rising Main city steps, Fineview
In Pittsburgh city limits, the obvious bridge railings, retaining walls, and industrial fencing has been tagged and painted-over in so many yearly cycles that almost nothing from this halcyon era survives. But dig a little deeper–or climb a little higher–and you can still find the names of goat-throwing deities carved into the handrails of underused city steps, scratched into train trestle underpasses, or spray-painted on stormwater runoff drains. Further afield, the spoils get richer.
Deep Purple (c. early 1980s), New Brighton
Led Zepplin (sic.) rules (c. 1980), Sharpsburg
This all begs the obvious question, where did it go? Or, more precisely, why did it stop? No, we don't expect the youth of today to still be into ZZ Top and Deep Purple (we can dream, though!), but kids still like music, right? Why did the act of desecrating public infrastructure in the (literal) name of a favorite musical act simply amount to a two- or three-decade fad, basically gone by the turn of the millennia?
The Orbit has no clear answer for this–not even an educated guess. That said, it's likely some combination of The Internet, overprotective parents, unlimited and ever-changing entertainment options, and…oh yeah, The Internet again. Why climb down in a culvert with a can of Rust-Oleum for some band no one will care about in six months when you could be Snapchatting with a stranger in Singapore?
ZZ Top (c. 1983), Homestead
0 for 2: Metalica (sic.) Alchoholica (sic.) (c. 1990), Munhall [photo: Lee Floyd]
It's all probably a good thing for the sake of our public spaces. Here at the Orbit, we report on graffiti when it makes sense, but we're also not advocating for it. If young people have a deeper respect for our parks and sidewalks, private residences and commercial buildings that's great…but I don't really think that's what's going on.
With all its great opportunity, something definitely got lost when The Internet came to town. There was a deep connection that many of us had to a small number of artists–saving up weeks of paper route money to buy one record which then got played over and over. That's no longer a practical necessity when the history of popular music is available right through the phone in your pocket. The opportunity is great; the connection and identification, not so much. Who's going to risk a misdemeanor for […hold on while I Google the current pop/rock charts…] Ariana Grande or Panic! At the Disco?
[Side note: the irony that as we're going to press Queen holds 13 of the top 25 "Hot Rock" tracks is not lost on this author.]
Twisted Sister (c. 1984), Sharpsburg
Mayhem (c. 1990s?), Mt. Oliver
Some notes on the photos and dates:
Sadly, The Orbit doesn't have the proper resources to do the kind of carbon-dating and art preservation that these historical documents clearly deserve. That said, we consulted the expertise of metal scholars Dave Bjorkback, Ben Blanchard, and Lee Floyd in the course of reporting this story. We are indebted to their lifetime of study.
Korn (c. 2000), Sharpsburg
We don't know for sure that the rendering of the Union Jack (above, top) was in fact a tribute to Def Leppard, but they were the U.K. band who flew…err, sat on the British flag most prominently during this, their prime "ten-arm" Pyromania/Hysteria era–so it's a reasonable guess.
The 1980s were way past Deep Purple's early-'70s creative peak, but given the proximity to other specimens in New Brighton's Big Rock Park [yes: that's really the name of the place where this–and others–were found], we believe this is a more accurate estimate.
Faster Pussycat was an also-ran in the Sunset Strip hair metal scene of the late-1980s. The band was named after a Russ Meyer film, however, and the cryptic hobo tag on this boxcar (below) doesn't really give us any clue as to what the writer was after. It's still worth a mention.
Faster Pussycat, Neville Island
It's a cruel reality: when you're working the city step beat, there ain't a lot of news to report. No, most of the stories we run end up being about going to visit steps that inevitably won't be around for long, occasional Indiana Jones-style heroics to hike them, or the historical curiosities of infrastructure ruins that were once so vital and now–all too often–go nowhere and serve no one.
So it is with no small amount of glee that The Orbit goes to press with a story on not only the complete rehabilitation of a set of core city steps, but the genuine newsy news that they've been wonderfully dressed-up in brand-new full-color mosaic tile.
Oakley Way Steps, top mosaic section
Oakley Way is one of the many climbs that create access points from the South Side Slopes above to the flats below (and vice-versa). The street is actually seven short (but mostly vertical) blocks long–part city steps/part steep road-with-steps sidewalk. The bottommost stretch (from Josephine to McCord) is the only section that's received the mosaic treatment, but some of the upper sections have also been nicely rehabbed with patched concrete and fully repaired and repainted blue handrails.
Artist Laura Jean McLaughlin led a group of volunteers in the design, construction, and installation of the mosaic risers. That process was covered in a recent Post-Gazette piece that only scooped us because we got side-tracked by Fairywood and tryptophan and shelved the post for a month. Fooey!
Looking up: the Oakley Way steps
Spread across seventy-seven consecutive risers, the mosaic's central figure is a tall red-booted woman in a checkered skirt who–based on the proportional size of the river, bridge, and factory building also in the piece–must stand about the height of the US Steel tower. Also decorating the lush scene are Slopes homes, grass, flowers, a fox, a bird, the sun and stars.
If you've seen any of McLaughlin's other local projects you'll recognize her loose, cartoonish, and earthy signatures. A lesser blog might invoke the term "whimsical," or even (shudder) "funky". The Orbit won't stoop to that level, so we'll just say they're fun, very Slopes-centric, and a great compliment to the D.P.W.'s fix-up work.
View down the bottommost section of Oakley Way (from McCord Street)
We've argued in these very virtual pages that Pittsburgh's network of public steps is a city asset unlike any other–part transit route, part jungle gym, part historical oddity, and what should be a big draw for tourism*. It's encouraging to see any set of steps getting much-needed maintenance, but it's especially great to see them dressed to thrill with such a wonderful addition as McLaughlin's mosaic.
There's at least one other similar project out there and completed. Linda Wallen's mosaic work at the base of the steps off Itin Street in Spring Garden isn't nearly as ambitious as Oakley Way, but it's still a great twinkling beacon in the great constellation of city step dark stars. May these two heroic projects guide step freaks to a new, golden dawn of altitude adjustment, wide perspectives, and throbbing calf muscles.
Old and new: remnants of an earlier, defunct passage under the rehabbed Oakley Way steps
* Visitors who don't want to lose their breath climbing dozens of flights of steps to dilapidated neighborhoods with spectacular views should consider lodging other than Chez Orbit's fold-out sofa.
September 8, 2016 January 2, 2017 Leave a comment
Step Beat: Climbs 57
July 31, 2016 January 2, 2017 2 Comments
Looking up the lower section of the 57th Street steps
Has Pittsburgh fifty-seven varieties of city steps? Maybe.
It's an intriguing question. There are long and short sets of steps; steps on the side of the street and steps alone in the woods. There are steps of wood, metal, and concrete; steps in good repair and ones that are falling apart; open steps and ones permanently closed. Some have special bicycle ramps added; others just tell you to Try. There are steps with crazy turns and angles and steps that just go up one straight line. There are steps the whole neighborhood uses, step street intersections, and steps that no longer go anywhere.
It would probably take a significant imagination to keep this riff going all the way out to the magic number. However, we know Henry J. Heinz considered 57 to be a lucky number*, and if it's good enough for the king of condiments, it's good enough for Pittsburgh Orbit. We certainly felt lucky after a climb up the very fine 57th Street Steps in Lawrenceville.
Step-accessible (only) house at the bottom of the 57th Street steps
The intersection at Duncan Street, mid-point in the 57th Street steps
The steps that make up the pedestrian section of 57th Street qualify as at least two of these varieties. The lower half, from where Christopher Street forks off 57th up to Duncan Street, is in immaculate shape. The treads and rails are all perfectly maintained, with easy clear passage. The surrounding foliage has been neatly trimmed and there was no litter the day we visited. There's even one remaining house that is only accessible via the steps.
An the upper half? Well, that's another story. In the middle of a lush Pittsburgh summer, dense knotweed has enveloped the majority of this stretch with just enough room for the city trekker to go full-on Indiana Jones. [Note to readers: bring a fedora, whip, and satchel.] It's clear this batch is neither as well-loved nor as well-used as its downhill sibling. Still, it offers a great off-the-grid version of the step experience, which is just as much of what we're after.
Entrance to the upper section of 57th Street steps (at Duncan Street)
Looking up the upper section of 57th Street steps
If there's a bummer to the 57th Street steps, it's that you're stuck with a straight up-and-back trip–there's no looping around for a more interesting walk/hike. Somewhere around half-way up the top stretch (above Duncan), you hit a pretty decisive end-of-the-line. The treads are gone, trees and weeds have overtaken what's left, and a clear Steps Closed barrier has been placed across the route.
At this point, the red handrails continue, tantalizing us by disappearing into the hillside. The map shows that at one point the steps terminated up on Price Way in Stanton Heights, but that connection seems unlikely to be re-opened–at least until The Orbit gets put in charge of public works. Until then, pass the ketchup.
End of the line: top of the 57th Street steps
* Heinz famously had way more than 57 different food products when the "57 Varieties" tag line was dreamed up and added to packaging.
Step Beat: Basin Street Blues
Looking down from near the top of the Basin Street steps, Troy Hill
If there are more stereotypically Pittsburgh names for a couple streets than Brabec and Voskamp, point this blogger to them. That these two short residential ways (in Troy Hill and Spring Garden, respectively), should be connected by a picture-perfect set of city steps is all the more apropos. Action, scene, cut, and print.
Top of Basin Street at Brabec Street, Troy Hill
Tripping across a new set of city steps is no great feat–there are hundreds of them after all*. But randomly arriving at a stretch as spectacular as the Basin Street steps doesn't happen every day. The couple hundred individual risers that connect these two near North Side neighborhoods have everything the step trekker and urban daydreamer could possibly hope for–theater, tranquility, history, and mystery.
View from the steps: Spring Garden (below) and Spring Hill (above)
Steps, by their altitude-adjusting nature, almost always offer something in the way of rewarding city vistas and Basin Street is no exception. The view from the very top (at Brabec Street) is shrouded in trees, but multiple points along the way offer terrific angles through the branches down to the Spring Garden bottoms below and up into the lush hillside of City View/Spring Hill above.
Hill view from the steps
Aside from the surround-sound bird chirping and song-singing–plus one indefatigable opossum loitering in a Voskamp Street back patio–not a creature was stirring in or around Basin Street on the day we visited. It is this gentle peace right in the center of the city that makes a great set of steps so special.
Basin Street has its requisite signs of humanity–foundations for long-gone homes off to the sides and no small amount of litter left by teen drinkers and hill campers–but it generally has more of the feeling of being way out in the woods. It's fair to say that this particular wood still features the sounds of weed whackers, dudes working on cars, and distant classic rock wafting through branches–but a wood nonetheless.
Looking up the Basin Street steps
Like Tolstoy's happy families, each story of the city steps is in a sense the same: a wonderous artifact of urban infrastructure still exists, relaxing in repose on and under-visited city hillside. Nature, time, and tide reclaim as much as the Pittsburgh D.P.W. allows. The occasional pedestrian saunters through, but they exist mostly in a time of their own.
On the other hand, though, each passage of steps–at least the really glorious, long, secluded ones like Basin Street–offer their own unique experiences: different views, twists and turns, different high, lows, and end points. Rising Main, it ain't, nor does it have the clusters of great steps like Fineview or the South Side Slopes, but this little backside of Troy Hill is well worth the trip. Big ups to the Basin.
Voskamp Street, Spring Garden, from near the bottom of Basin Street
* There is no official number, but the estimate is somewhere around 750 sets of public steps in Pittsburgh.
Step Beat: May the 54th Be With You
May 4, 2016 January 2, 2017 2 Comments
There is a darkness. Upper entrance to the 54th Street steps at Camelia Street, Stanton Heights.
An unusually iridescent quality to the daylight–the result of diffuse, cloud-filtered sunbeams' gentle descent to Earth. That, paired with recent showers and high spring reawakening, resulted in a glorious array of patchwork greens popping from every direction. Bright yellow-greens from first leaves and tangled weeds climbing through last year's dead growth. Deep low greens darken ivy shadows and taller members' undergrowth. Add one storybook passageway–literally full of twists and turns, hoots and birdsongs–and you've got a recipe for magic.
Zig zag wanderer: right-angle turns at the top of the 54th Street steps.
The 54th Street steps are a stretch that one can only assume is on the endangered species list. Several pedestrian walkways link the residential neighborhood of Stanton Heights (above) to 10th Ward/Upper Lawrenceville (below). At one time, there must have been significant demand for this kind of infrastructure, but with (most of) Lawrenceville's big industry jobs long gone and automobile ownership more rule than exception, it's hard to imagine many people needing to use these particular steps anymore. This blogger didn't encounter a single other human on his recent visit.
The long middle section of the 54th Street steps including wooden replacement handrail.
And that's a shame…sort of. Pittsburgh has its share of great parks, trails, green spaces, etc. But it never ceases to amaze how simply walking around city neighborhoods offers so many everyday opportunities for nature, tranquility, solitude–you name it.
The 54th Street steps, as well as others up this way, are a prime example. The parks may have a greater bounty of trees, flowers, birds, and chipmunks, but they don't supply the crazy catwalk gangways and cut-into-hillside stair climbs. You won't see the same ghostly foundations of long-gone step-accessible (only) houses or burnt offerings to witchcraft. The entire length of 54th provides commanding bird's eye views of Upper Lawrenceville and across the river to Millvale. The river trails are often crowded with Sunday cause-marchers and lollygagging strollers that can test the through-rider's patience. The presence of humanity is no such problem up here.
This is city living. View from the 54th Street steps.
The 54th Street steps are in quite good shape overall. There is some cracking to the concrete and there's been obvious repair work including a fixed-up section of felled handrail with a jerry-rigged wooden replacement. But the treads are all sound and there's no point where they feel like they're falling apart. Any regular step-hiker will tell you this is no small achievement.
This is all pretty remarkable given the length and complexity of the operation. Fifty-fourth Street is definitely not the longest set of steps in the city (that's the unbelievable Rising Main Way on the North Side), but with maybe 200 stairs* it's probably up there. When you factor in the six right-angle turns and long flat stretches, it's really a hidden jewel a in the city's step crown. Get out there and try it on for size.
Lower end of the 54th Street steps at Wickliff Street, Lawrenceville.
* Just guessing here–we didn't count.


I guess it was sort of inevitable that I'd end up a gamer. When I was little, my older, cooler, drinking-age cousins were partial to Crown Royal. When my parents threw a party, the twins would arrive with their bottle of whiskey, and I'd ask them if I could have the bag it came in. Back then, I didn't even know what I'd do with it, just that it held some kind of mysterious potential, and as soon as I figured out what to put in there, the magic would happen.
It wasn't until years later, when I was in college, that I understood precisely what those bags were for.
That's when I met Greg and was invited to sit in on a few gaming sessions with his group. Someone pulled out a Crown Royal bag full of dice.
Finally, I understood what those velvety purple bags were truly destined to hold. Not whiskey, but dice.
When *cough*-edyteen years later** Gameplaywright announced they'd be publishing a book about gamers and their dice, I knew I'd have to have it.
Last week, I finally got my grimy little paws on The Bones: Us and Our Dice. And lo, it is awesome. If you'll pardon my clumsy attempt at a review, I'm going to ramble a bit about it here.
I read the interview with GamesByEmail's Scott Nesin on the train ride home, and within five minutes of walking in the door, had the video of his Dice-O-Matic up so I could see it in action.
In his essay "The Unrollable," Pat Harrigan puts voice to all the anxieties I've had as a GM, and makes me feel like maybe I was doing it right, after all, when it came to my relationship with dice. I was never a very dice-heavy GM because, well, my dice hated me. Remind me to tell you the story of how I had to suddenly pull the hidden villain out of the shadows several sessions early because a player's lucky (really lucky. Like, a handful of d10s coming up 10s lucky) roll killed off his right-hand man mid-dramatic escape arrrrgh.
Geekery abounds in the pages of The Bones. The contributors' tales about the games and gamers in their lives make you feel like you're sitting around at a gathering of roleplayers, swapping stories about those unforgettable moments of badass. But these men and women have worked behind-the-scenes, too, developing some of the games we've loved, and working in several aspects of the game industry.
The Bones is about more than just the clatter of dice on the table and that time you really needed a 20 and the polyhedral gods smiled down upon you (or turned their angled, carved-ivory faces away). The essayists explore deeper questions, too — how dice reflect the randomness of life, how we might know, rationally, that there's a statistical element to the rolls, but we go through our luck-drawing rituals anyway, and why we do those things.
Orders for the limited hardcover edition are open through the end of this week. After that, orders for The Bones will be for the paperback edition. Hie thee to Gameplaywright and order it. It'll have you digging into your own Crown Royal bag and tossing out some rolls.
**I just did the math and realized that soon, I'll have been gaming for more years than I haven't. I know, I know, some of you are well past that point. What can I say? I came to it later than a lot of other fellow geeks.
This entry was posted in books, review and tagged books, geekery, review. Bookmark the permalink.
Thanks for reviewing the book, Lauren! I'm glad to hear you liked it.
We're just wrapping up the covers for the special edition and the unlimited edition now, so the book should be with us in the physical world soon.


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Soda consumption may have a negative impact on children's behaviours such as aggression, attention and withdrawal.
Numerous factors may affect both soda consumption and problem behaviours in children. A new study, involving almost 3,000 five-year-old children, has examined the effect of soda consumption on the following behaviours: aggression, attention and withdrawal (Suglia et al., 2013).
The study controls for a number of factors such as fruit juice and sweets consumption, TV watching and parenting behaviours. 43% of the five-year-old participants consumed at least one serving of soda per day, and 4% consumed 4 or more servings daily.
The authors found a significant dose-response relationship between soda consumption and an overall measure of aggression (i.e., the higher soda intake, the more aggression). These aggressive behaviours include: destroying things belonging to others, getting into fights, and physically attacking people. Children with a high soda intake were also more likely to show attention problems and withdrawal.
This study does not tell us anything about the cause-effect relationship between soda consumption and problem behaviours because of its correlational, cross-sectional design. However, it indicates that a high soda intake play a role in problem behaviours, but many factors may be at stake.
Why would soda consumption lead to problem behaviours? Soft drinks contain sugars as well as caffeine. The authors emphasize that the scientific literature does not reveal much about the behavioural effects of sugar. In this study, high fruit juice consumption was associated with lower aggression, and high candy/sweets consumption was associated with higher levels of aggression.
Evidence has linked caffeine to a number of behavioural outcomes (e.g., insufficient sleep, nervousness, impulsivity and risk-taking in children and adolescents), and caffeine may therefore contribute to this study's results (Suglia et al., 2013).
The study has a number of limitations besides its correlational design. First, it does not control for underlying conditions such as low blood sugar (low blod sugar may itself lead to aggression and higher soda intake).
Second, data on both soda consumption and behaviours are based on parent reports, and the size of soda serving and the type of soft drink are not defined. Finally, the study does not control for the children's physical activity, violent video game watching and other dietary factors. For example, the authors note that food coloring agents have a potential negative impact on children's behaviours.
This entry was posted in Clinical Psychology, Psychology and tagged research. Bookmark the permalink.


In a large bowl, cream butter, shortening, sugars and lemon zest until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla. Combine the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, allspice, nutmeg and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with applesauce, beating well after each addition. Stir in the pecans and apple.
Pour into a greased and floured 9- or 10-in. fluted tube pan. Bake at 350° for 55-60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes; remove from pan to a wire rack to cool completely.
For glaze, in a heavy saucepan, melt butter and brown sugar over low heat. Stir in cream. Cook and stir until mixture comes to a boil; boil for 1 minute. Remove from the heat; whisk in sugar and vanilla until smooth, about 1 minute. Pour over cake; immediately sprinkle with pecans.
1 piece: 444 calories, 22g fat (8g saturated fat), 62mg cholesterol, 218mg sodium, 59g carbohydrate (38g sugars, 2g fiber), 5g protein.
I followed all the directions as written and my cake turned out bad. I was so disappointed. The flavor was great but the cake texture reminded me of a brownie.
I made this cake to take to a meeting and it was an instant success. Everyone loved it. Not only that but I had to share the recipe with the ladies present. This is an easy cake to make and the glaze just completes it. I highly recommend it as a Volunteer Field Editor for Taste of Home.
This is a very dense cake. I added raisins and my family loved it. and I made more prailine for the top.
This is a lovely cake with a moist tender crumb. Next time I'll add a little more chopped apple as we like pieces of fruit in our cakes!
Sounds good will be trying this tomorrow.