Give me a break lady—a little bit of steam never hurt anybody!

Growing up, before we moved to the farmhouse, before we even moved to Cumberland Street in the late ‘60s, we lived on East Franklin Street in Waynesburg.  We were the first house on the block.  

Directly behind our long row of older but neat houses was a steep hillside that led up to High Street, the main drag in town.  It could be a real shortcut too.  You didn’t have to climb up that hill, a row of wooden & concrete steps took you straight up or down.  Go up, turn right and you were on your way to ‘uptown’, or Main Street; turn left and you were steps from Huffman’s Cleaners, McCracken’s Pharmacy, Henderson’s Barber Shop & East Franklin Elementary.

There was only one obstacle in your way… and according to my big brother, it was deadly.

When you neared the top of these steps, up against the side of Huffman’s Dry Cleaners, was a wide metal pipe jutting from the wall and some sort of exhaust pipe that pointed downwards, directly over your head.

At regular intervals, there’d be a loud WHOOOSH! like the sound of a steam locomotive, and a heavy white cloud would be expelled. 

This pipe just intrigued the heck out of me.  I remember one time my Dad coming home from work covered with dust (he worked in coal shaft construction) and someone (Dad or Mom) joked he should go up and stand under that giant steampipe.  I was around 7 at the time, and it made perfect sense to me.  When I asked my brother Duke if standing under that pipe would really ‘steam-clean’ your clothes, he said “DON’T EVER STAND UNDER THAT PIPE!” 

Why??  To this day I don’t know if Duke was trying to scare the crap out of me, or if he actually believed what he was saying, but he said “That steam is deadly!  It’s a thousand degrees and full of chemicals, it will melt the skin right off your bones!”    

I was shocked; how many times had I come so close to death?  I should’ve just asked Mom or Dad if Duke was giving me the business, I guess I assumed it had to be true as I knew how smart Duke was. 

I still used those steps pretty regularly, but I’d go three quarters up--wait on the landing for the next WHOOSH--then barrel up the rest of the way.  Ah, made it!  I’d live to see another day.

This was a popular model kit in the late 1960s, every time I saw it on display at GC Murphy’s I thought “That’s how I’ll look if I get caught in Huffman’s steambath”

The reason I’m sharing this story is because on Thursday as I was heading into my apartment building, I passed Jack sitting in the lobby reading his newspaper.  (Jack is 79 years old and a giant, he looks twice my size.  Long retired from the military, I think he was a tank in the Korean War.) 

Jack said “HEY CHIEF”  and I waved in his direction as I headed towards the mailboxes.  He said “YOU MISSED ALL THE COMMOTION CHIEF.”  What’d I miss?  “I GOT RID OF A COUPLE OUTSIDE, THEY WANTED TO PUT SIGNS OUT FRONT.” 

The front of our apartment building, we usually have an American flag up that flagpole

He explained they were political campaign signs for Keith Rothfus for Congress (the GOP candidate running in the 17th District, a sure loser) and Jack didn’t think it’d be fair as we have 100 residents here. 

I told Jack, GOOD!  He nodded his head and said “Mary didn’t have a problem with them.”  (A woman by the mailboxes glanced in our direction then went back to sorting her mail.)  Jack said “So you’re not voting for Rothfus, Chief?”  I said “No way.  Rothfus is a Trump toad.”  (Well, he is!)  He laughed and said “I take it you’re not a fan of Donald Trump?”  I said “I think anyone who supports Donald Trump is out of their fucking mind.”  Jack roared with laughter and I immediately regretted saying it.  Oh well.  “Mary” was now gone and I told Jack I’d see him later.

As I headed towards the elevator, I noticed it’s doors were open.  I looked inside and saw Mary and her mail, with her finger pressing the DOORS OPEN button.  She said “Going up?”  I said “Were you holding that for me?  Hey, I’m sorry if you overheard me and Jack, I got a little riled up back there.” 

She said “Didn’t bother me.  But you should look around next time you decide to go flapping your gums about our president.”   

I said “Yep, you’re right.”   She said “I’m not saying I’m right or you’re wrong, but you sound like these Democrats, they like to make things up so they can vent steam about our President.”  

I said “I’m not making things up or going around venting steam, but I AM a Democrat.”  She said “Democrats are getting more dangerous everyday.  I hear it all the time.”   Lady, what the hell!  She was right about the dangerous part though, because I wanted to knock her on her keester.  I said  “Sorry again about my choice of words.  Listen, I really am done talking.”  She said “That’s fine I said what I had to say.” 

Getting back to my ‘Steam Pipe of Death’, one Saturday morning my grandma (for awhile she was living in a cluster of mobile homes across from us) sent me ‘up the steps’ to McCracken’s to pick up her perscription.  While waiting for her pills, a girl from my class (Robin C.) entered the drugstore.  She was the only black student in our class, but she was one of the smartest and nicest girls too.

Anyway, Robin asked me where I lived.  I told her on East Franklin, “right over there, down the steps by Huffman’s Cleaners” and she said to show her.

Now a ‘Treasure Shop’, this was taken when it was a shuttered Huffman’s Cleaners. 

If you look closely in the lower right corner you’ll see those steps leading down.  Notice the big pipe running down the wall? 

We walked over to the concrete steps and I pointed at the L-shaped death-pipe below and told her what my brother told me.  I think Robin thought I was teasing HER.  She went down the steps and just stood there.  WHOOOOSH!!  She got blasted by a cloud of steam!  She came back up and I DO remember her smelling a little like bleach, but that was it.  I felt like such a dope!

So is there a moral to this blog?  Nope, I just like to reminisce and I needed to vent about Mary—you know us Democrats, always shooting off steam!  I suppose I could say it pays to be nice to people as Robin ended my fears about being melted alive.  To this day, when I visit Waynesburg and drive past there I think of that pipe—and Robin.

As for Mary… what can I say.  I hope she melts.