A hero rises from the smog

Donora fireman Bill Schempp was a gentleman who defined volunteerism. This is his obituary from the pages of the Observer-Reporter:

Bill Schempp emerged as a small-town hero, going door-to-door as a volunteer fireman with oxygen in Donora, Pa., during the nation’s deadliest air pollution disaster.
This week Schempp, who died Sunday, December 14, 2008, at age 91, is being remembered as a father figure to young firefighters whom he trained over the years.
“He always welcomed us at any time to his home and loved to talk to us about the olden times,” said Casey Perrotta, 27, a borough fireman and local code enforcer.
Schempp was just 31 when he answered a call from his fire chief, Charles Cumberland, to take an 18-inch oxygen tank to offer fresh air to people who were gasping for their breaths during the Donora smog of 1948.
It took him nearly an hour to walk up Donora’s steep Sixth Street with the tank in one arm and using the other to feel his way through the thick smog linked to stagnant air and pollution from the local steel and zinc mills.
The nation’s first clean air laws were spawned from the event that claimed at least 20 lives over that Halloween weekend.
And through the years, reporters from all corners of the United States have called on Schempp to retell his story about the disaster.
On the famous mission, he offered an oxygen mask to the sick to take just two or three breaths before he had to move on. The calls just kept mounting. At some houses, people clung to him or shouted to keep him from leaving.
“There wasn’t a damned thing you could do about it,” Schempp told a reporter with Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service for a story on the smog’s 50th anniversary.
“There were too many calls to help everyone,” said Schempp’s friend, Paul Brown of Donora. “I worked in that mill. I know how bad it was, so I know what he went through.”
Schempp went on to work for 23 years as Donora postmaster. He was known to tinker with his antique red fire engine that bore his name, and often drove it through local parades.
He granted his final interview last summer to a producer of The Weather Channel’s docudrama, “Killer Smog,” that premiered in November.
Donora firemen gathered last night beside his coffin in James A. Rabe Funeral Home in Donora for a firefighters memorial service.
“He is a hometown hero,” said Perrotta, who portrayed Schempp as a young man in the Weather Channel show.
Schempp is survived by his wife of 67 years, Gladys Balmer Schempp, and a daughter, Annie Schempp of Donora. He will be buried Thursday in Monongahela Cemetery.

(Caption: Donora fireman Bill Schempp about a decade ago in the passenger seat of his antique fire engine.)

This is just crazy rich

The forecast for trade-and-banking-rich Dubai: Blistering hot, but cool and breezy at the refrigerated beach.

This is just crazy news from the Persian Gulf.

The color red means the beer is waiting

GREENSBURG, Pa. – Red Star Brewery & Grille’s name spells great beer in more than one way.

In old Bavaria, a barkeep would hang a red star outside his business when the beer was done brewing and ready to tap. And, at Red Star in Greensburg, Pa., the large beer tanks inside the glass enclosed foyer serve as another reminder to those in the know about that tradition that this establishment takes brewing seriously.

I won’t pretend to be a beer snob because, once at the bar, I order a glass of India Pale Ale, thinking it will be on the light side. It arrives dark yet mellow enough to not qualify it as Guinness, one of the few beers that I hate more than Iron City.

So then I decide on the New England lobster salad arranged on a bed of thin-sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise dressing. It comes with a small loaf of bread and honey-flavored butter. The sweetness of the butter, combined with the beer and lobster, make for a palate pleaser unique to this fantastic bar and restaurant.

Suddenly convinced that this is my new favorite beer, I turn to the drink menu to read its description. It turns out that India Pale Ale was developed to preserve beer for long voyages from England to British troops stationed in India. To survive the three-month trip, it had to have a lot of hops and extra alcohol.

“Ours has enough hops so you can’t really tell how malty it is and enough malt so you can’t tell how hoppy it is and an extra dash at the end of hops to push the balance right over the edge,” the menu reads.

The extra hops cannot be in the mix to preserve the beer because this is one busy restaurant in a 98-year-old beautifully restored train station at 101 Ehalt St. The last two times that I stopped by this year there wasn’t a seat to be found.

The business has survived the test of time, though, because it is celebrating it 10th anniversary in a Victorian ticket room beside a rail line where trains still stop to pick up passengers.

All Big Girl wants from Santa (is this shirtless man)

Matthew-McConaughey-fl03, originally uploaded by yourillusion2002.

Dear Santa,

I know you’re supposed to have the whole “naughty or nice” list going, but because I doubt those documents are considered public under Pennsylvania’s open records laws, I really have no way of knowing which one I’ve landed on.

One of my podmates, Scott Beveridge, alluded to the fact that I may have been more “naughty” than “nice” this year. OK, yeah, maybe I was a little harsh this year to people such as Pamela Anderson and Howie Mandel on this blog. But I swear, I didn’t mean to be mean!

I’m not going to lie to you, Santa: I think I deserve some presents this year. And because people everywhere are scaling back on their Christmas wish lists, you may notice that I’ve been more conservative in my requests this year.

Here goes:

1. A pimped-out Escalade. I’m not gonna be picky – I don’t care what color you pick out. While I own a fuel-efficient Toyota Yaris, I think a big honkin’ SUV would really give me more street cred. When I make my drive from my humble abode on Neville Island to my humble cube in Washpa, I can’t help but notice all the Herculean vehicles rolling by me. My driving instructor taught me to signal my intent to turn, stay a few car lengths back and check my blind spot before changing lanes, but I’ve begun to notice that the bigger the car, the less you seemingly have to obey these traffic rules. So, I figure if I can procure a badass Escalade, I would be a lot less stressed on the road because I wouldn’t have to bother with such things as “turn signals” and “giving the finger” because I would finally be one of the Big Girls on the road! And with gas prices back at a “reasonable" level, I can afford to be less thrifty, right? It’s the American Way, after all.
2. My own reality show. Hey, Andy Warhol did say something about everyone getting their 15 minutes of fame, eh? I can’t act, dance or sing. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a triple threat in my own way, right? After all, I CAN swear like a sailor, be sarcastic and start drama. And if THAT doesn’t qualify me to star in my own series, I really don’t know what other criteria there is. Sure, there would have to be some awesome stunts, guest stars or world travel for me to get a deal with one of the big three: ABC, NBC or CBS. But like I said, I know that America is in a recession, and I’m trying not to ask for anything extravagant. I’m talking more “Flavor of Love” than “Survivor.” I would suggest a working title if I could, but “Gillooly of Love” just doesn’t make any sense…
3. Matthew McConaughey. I know he’s a babydaddy to some Brazilian goddess, but surely, you’ve pulled off more tricky Christmas miracles, right? It’s not like I’m trying to be a home-wrecking wench. If that was the case, I would have certainly asked for Ben Affleck to be placed strategically in my bed…er…under my Christmas tree this year. But I don’t want to be that girl, as it were. So I’ll settle for Matthew. I can almost see him running shirtless on Grand Avenue now…but he’d have to start drinking better beer. I can stand for a lot of things, but not Budweiser. It’s Blue Moon, Sam Adams Summer Ale or no dice. Sorry, but that’s a deal breaker for me. Even if he is one of the hottest guys in the universe. Hey, a girl’s gotta have standards.

That’s it, Santa. I hope I didn’t ask for too much. If you need any clarification on the gifts, just give me a ring. I’ll be around.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “who needs a white Christmas?” Gillooly

PS – If some dude calling himself The Old Man contacts you about any reported “mooning,” please be advised that this allegation has never been proven in a court of law. I know you live on the North Pole and everything, so I’m just really hoping you dig our whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing.

A little magazine that rocks

With covers like this one, it’s no surprise that our newspaper took home a first-place journalism award this year for having an outstanding niche publication.

The current issue of the by-monthly magazine, Living Washington County, features an illustration by Observer-Reporter photographers Jim McNutt and Greg Tarr for a story about Christmas train displays in this corner of southwestern Pennsylvania. This geek likes it even more because we used for a prop my Mike’s Train House train set. Call me a geek for playing with trains, and also digging MTH over the more-expensive Lionel toy train sets.

The cover jumped to this story about these rather cool miniature train displays:

In the glory days of model railroading, all the downtown department
stores had miniature train displays at Christmastime.

And it was a big deal to pack up the family and take the streetcar to
Pittsburgh to see the model railroad villages and purchase a train set
for Christmas, said Scott Becker, executive director of the Pennsylvania Trolley Museum in Arden.

"That was the whole idea when we first started," said Becker, while discussing the museum's holiday train display, which turns 15 this year.

The children who visit love the trains, Becker said, but their parents seem to enjoy them even more.

"They get nostalgic and remember their dads setting up trains around the Christmas tree," he said.

To complete the experience, visitors get to take a ride on an old-fashioned trolley operated by volunteers in period costumes.

The train exhibit is among two that are open to the public this holiday season.

Retired railroad worker Joe Jack and his friends are taking at least eight toy train sets to Canonsburg and setting up a village in the Rakoczy Building.

Jack, 66, has been toying with trains since he was a kid.

"I don't do the normal things like hunt and fish," he said. "It's a natural thing for me as a retired adult to go on with the hobby and show the kids ... the little kids just go crazy."

Jack, who retired as a clerk in a Norfolk Southern freight yard, became hooked on trains at a time when much of the nation's goods were moved by rail.

The toy versions when Jack was a boy "were as common as computers are now," he said.

In Canonsburg for a third consecutive year, the display will include a large canyon, town, modern rocket site and a circus.

"Many of the children's favorite cartoon and storybook characters will fill the display also," Jack said.

At the trolley museum, the train village is staged low enough for children to see it while standing, and they have a chance to operate the controls.

"Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a train," said David Woods, 61, of Washington, who puts the museum's display together.

"I'm into model trains," he said. "I call myself the toy train engineer."

People Woods' age make up most of the business these days at the dwindling number of stores that sell trains in America, said Sonny Russo, owner of Trainland in Charleroi.

Russo said children and young adults would rather play computer games than take the time to put together a miniature train and village.

"Sales are down everywhere," he said.

He said stores like his mostly deal with "serious-minded, middle-aged" collectors or grandparents who have a notion to purchase their grandson his first train set.

"They want to remember the good old days," Russo said.

Canonsburg Christmas
Railroad and Village

Rakoczy Building, 102 W. Pike St.

Open: Dec. 6 through Christmas from 5 to 8 p.m. Friday, 3 to 8 p.m. Saturday, and 1 to 8 p.m. Sunday.

Admission: Free; donations will be accepted for the Greater Canonsburg Library construction fund.

Pennsylvania Trolley
Museum Trolleys and Toy Trains

1 Museum Road, Washington

Open: 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, and 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Monday through Friday

Dec. 12, 15, 19-22, 27-30 and Jan. 3, 4, 10, 11

Admission: $8 adults, $5 children, $7 senior citizens

Howie = not funny

Howie Mandel and the Fab Five, originally uploaded by attit.

Dear Howie Mandel,

My favorite part of the movie “Bruce Almighty” was when Morgan Freeman’s God character was telling Jim Carrey (who played the poor schlep who couldn’t get a break) about his “divine spark.”

“You have a gift for bringing joy and laughter to the world,” he told him.

Now, I’m not God. Hell, I’m not even Morgan Freeman, but I can tell you Howie Mandel it doesn’t take a deity to know you don’t have the spark, my man.

While I loved your work with Fred Savage in “Little Monsters” (gimme a break, I was like, 8) you’re recent stint on the hit game show “Deal or No Deal” is just a little too much.

Sure, the show has a mindless appeal, but you don’t. I’m just one woman talking, Howie, but I’ve gotta tell you that your jokes are flat. Busted. Beat. Old.

I didn’t know the exact word for your brand of humor until seeing a plug for your newest venture with NBC. The unscripted show will be titled, “Howdie Do It.” Really, Howie? You identify yourself as a comedian and then sign on to do a show with that much of a shameless pun?

Oh my! That kind of cheesetastic humor might be OK on a game show – it seems like all the hosts have their own brand of creepy cheerfulness – but don’t bring it into the comedy realm, please.

Another one of my spiritual advisers, Neil Young, once wrote: “You were born to rock, you’ll never be an opera star.”

So I’m writing to let you know: You were born to give away money in briefcases, and you’ll never be a comedy star.

Just so you know.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “keep your puns to yourself, please,” Gillooly