A great place to shoot the bull, then buy a pig

Art Gatts of Washington, left, sells tack and saddles from his pickup truck at the flea market outside a Greene County, Pa., auction parking lot. Friends like Albert Statler of Core, W.Va., stop by to swap stories. (Jack Graham/O-R)

By Colleen Nelson

WEST WAYNESBURG, Pa. – Trucks loaded with bawling livestock pull through to the weighing station, leaving deep tire tracks in the gravel and grass of the parking lot.

Vendors display their wares while standing beside their vehicles as shoppers pore over tools, toys, plants and odds and ends. Tables are loaded with boxes of fresh produce, and saddles and tack decorate tailgates at this rural flea market in West Waynesburg, Pa.

The area in front of the old wooden building with the silver roof and its name painted in big block letters on the side is filled.

And never mind the gathering clouds. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, it's also auction day at the Pennsylvania Livestock Auction.

Every Thursday, this piece of rural history on the hoof comes alive as it has since the 1930s. That's when the narrow-gauge railroad stopped running between Waynesburg and Washington and trucks and auctions became the way to do business. Rich in tradition and touched with the color of a carnival, the auction continues to draw farmers, livestock buyers, impulse shoppers and those who just stop by for a good home-cooked meal.

"A lot of people come here to eat – businessmen, lawyers, office workers from uptown. We get plenty of take outs, too," waitress Alicia Harry said, pausing by the stout wooden steps that lead to the cozy upstairs restaurant where diners can look down on the auction ring.

A generous half moon tier of wooden benches is where the bidders sit, eyes intent on the action in the ring. The bidding moves to the staccato of the auctioneer's voice. Nodding heads and nearly invisible gestures bring the bidding to an end in record time as animal after animal moves through one gate and out the other. Still, there's always
time to take a break, go upstairs for coffee or lunch and still not miss the animal you've been waiting for.

"You can get a four-course meal for $5.50 and it's all homemade. Every week there's a different special. This week it's creamed turkey over biscuits. When we have fried chicken you can't get in the door," Harry said.

Under the steps, stacks of boxes of farm-fresh eggs and other miscellaneous items wait to be the first lot of products to get the auction day started at noon.

Beyond the steps, long rows of stalls hold the day's assortment of stock to be sold – heifer calves and steers, cows and bulls, ponies, mules, goats, sheep and horses. Highland cattle, llamas, emus, even potbellied pigs make the occasional appearance, but in Greene County, well-proportioned beef cattle, especially black angus, and Hereford crosses are what attract farmers and buyers to the sale ring.

Outside, there are cages of chickens, ducks and rabbits. Horse traders saddle up to put on a show for those who will be bidding later.

"Horses go anywhere from $5 to $500 depending on their age and how well broke they are," owner and veteran auctioneer Joe Friend said, catching an early helping of cornbread and beans and all the fixings before the noon rush.

A big man with an easy smile, Friend also owns auctions in Grantsville and Accident, Md. He bought the Waynesburg business in 1971 and runs them all with the help of his family and an extended family of loyal employees who make the food, balance the books and manage all those animals for sale.

"I've been selling since 1958. My son, Joe Junior, was born and raised in the business. He does the auctioning now, but I can still sell cattle when they need me to. It's a specialty business and it takes awhile to hear what the auctioneer is saying. You learn from being around and listening," Friend said.

His advice to would-be buyers: "Your eyes are your marketplace, your pocketbook is your guide."

The long wooden building started life as the Waynesburg Sheet, Tin and Forge Mills in 1900. A group of local investors, led by Belgium horse breeder and auctioneer Charles Orndorf, bought the site and turned it into a livestock auction in 1936.

Old timers remember "Charley" as a dapper man who used a cane to gesture at the auction podium.

"I hung out with my granddad a lot when I was a kid. He gave up auctioning in 1980 when I was 12. There used to be auctions in Morgantown, Moundsville, Uniontown and West Alexander, and I remember going with him to Scenery Hill. Now only Waynesburg and Eighty Four are left," grandson Corbly Orndorf said. "Buyers come in and buy calves and ship them to feed lots in the Midwest. It's cheaper to ship the cattle than haul the grain. There used to be a wool house in Waynesburg, too, but that's gone now. When there were more dairies, there were always a lot of calves in the spring. But times have changed and auctions change with the times."

Beef cattle now outnumber sheep dotting the hillsides, and the numbers of farmers are declining. But coming to town for auction day is still a powerful draw, even for those who can no longer climb the stairs to dine with friends.

"This pie is good!" retired auction secretary Mildred Phillips declared, sampling the apple pie brought fresh from the auction restaurant to her kitchen table just outside town and just in time for lunch. "When I worked there in the 1950s I baked 25 pies on Wednesday, filled my cream pies on Thursday morning and was at work by 9 a.m. I used to make an apricot pie for George Conners every week. Those were long days and we stayed until the books balanced, even if it took all night!"

Computers have made keeping track of every sale a little easier, but the auction office, upstairs and next door to the restaurant, bustles with activity from the time Joe's sister, Patty Friend, arrives at 6:30 a.m. to greet the milkman until the last animal is loaded and on its way and the last slip is tallied.

Out-of-towners should keep a sharp eye out for the turnoff when on Route 21 in West Waynesburg. Just past Wayne Lumber is the entrance to a bustling, colorful past that will be there as long as there are animals to be sold to the highest bidder.

(Colleen Nelson is freelance writer and artist in Holbrook, Pa. She teachers creative writing at Bowlby Library in Waynesburg, Pa. Reprinted from Living in Greene County magazine, a publication of the Observer-Reporter)

HOBY kids for literacy

Pennsylvania high school students attending the Hugh O'Brian Youth Leadership summer program at Washington & Jefferson College perform their community service today by painting the Washington County Literacy Council office in Citizens Library.

Some of the 25 polite, over-achieving kids who reached out to help this nonprofit also stuffed book bags it gives to each new mother at Washington Hospital.

Amanda's Musings: Dear Janice Dickinson

Janice Dickinson - Pirates 3 Premier - Disneyland, originally uploaded by ~nico~.

For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off you. And it isn’t because you are the self-proclaimed super model. And it isn’t because of your emaciated, corpse-esque physique.

It is because you are certifiably ca-razy.

Your body is an enigma, though, my dead friend. With the majority of your weight derived from silicone implants and other plastic bodily adjustments, I can’t understand how your collection of cosmetic procedures could make you look a solid 35 years older than you are.

As a testament to the trashy television shows that so enrapture me, I have been watching your latest venture “I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.” I have also watched “The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency” and even got my work out on while watching the train wreck that was a “behind the headlines” account of your rise to fame.

From those viewing experiences, I gleaned a few things about you:

1. You are undoubtedly one of the reasons why young women puke up their dinners and work out until they pass out.
2. You are not anywhere near as attractive as you once were (or remotely as hot as you believe you are at this point in your waning career).
3. You are a loud-mouthed, aggressive woman who was inevitably kicked in the teeth and discouraged as a youth. I can only imagine that’s why you treat other human beings like they were put on this earth to give you an impromptu pedicure should such a procedure be so desired.

But girlfriend, I won’t lie: That overzealous, I-could-give-two-craps attitude is the reason why I kept watching. There is a small sliver of my heart that emotes a great love for people like you … people who exude so much confidence that they can’t possible understand how someone could possible be offended.

That sliver went into cardiac arrest last night, though, Janice. As sad as I was to see you get voted out of the jungle in your quest to fight it out with other B-list (or C or D-list) “celebrities,” I think it might be the best thing for you.

As the other “stars” go on to compete in asinine stunts to win food and immunity – and ultimately a sizable donation to the cause of their choice – you will be back in the States, criticizing fatties at your modeling agency (you know, those heifers who can’t fit into a size 2 mini) and berating any number of poor schleps over any number of small gaffs.

I just hope that part of your homecoming plans include a trip to a certified therapist to deal with some issues I’m not even sure you are aware of, one of which must be a deep neurosis.

I’m not a psychologist, but I do have some expertise in the matter. I am crazy myself. The only difference, darlin’, is I’m medicated.

So from one looney toon to another: In the name of all that is holy, please invest what you will spend on your next Botox injection for some mood stabilizing drugs.

Warmest Regards,

Amanda “Thank you, Effexor!” Gillooly

Grand opening of Route 40 Classic Diner

Today takes me to Brownsville, Pa., to write a story about the historic Dunlap's Creek Bridge, which is considered an engineer marvel of its time. Later, this video that captures the spirit of this decaying town catches my eye:

A determined shopkeeper with penny candy

By Colleen Nelson

GREENSBORO, Pa. – Betty Longo's storefront windows are filled with
baskets, crocks, red geraniums and pale African violets.

Step inside her shop on Front Street in Greensboro, Pa. Penny candy, ice cream and fresh milkshakes await you.

This tiny borough along the Monongahela River is well on its way to becoming a tourist destination. Meet the woman who helped make it happen.

"Some people call me the town historian and I guess that's true," Longo, 83, admits, while rummaging on a shelf for a copy of the book she loves to show visitors.

Her book, "Memories of Greensboro, Pennsylvania: A People's History," published in 2007, is full of old photographs of Greensboro in its heyday as a 19th century pottery town. It includes newspaper articles, chapters from old books and federal historical registry listings. But, it is the people's history section, written by Longo from her own life and times, and from interviews of friends and neighbors, that tells what it takes to keep a town alive.

"My husband Jim and I bought the store in 1953. I got interested in history in 1955 when I found a ledger in the attic that belonged to Alexander Van Boughner. He owned this store and had a pottery business, too."

The ledger starts in 1883 and fills hundreds of pages with lists of what people bought, how much Van Boughner paid his workers and what got shipped on the river.

"It fascinated me and I wanted to learn more. So I started asking my neighbors because I saw so many of their family names listed."

Greensboro in the 1950s was full of families whose husbands and fathers worked on Lock Seven, or in nearby mines, Longo remembers. These were good times, when people got together to create Mon View Park, complete with a swimming pool and roller skating rink for the kids.

Longo was in the thick of it and her store became the place to gather.

"Every morning I got up at 5 a.m. and made nut rolls, cinnamon rolls, pies and cake to eat with coffee. At night people came in and drank coffee and talked, sometimes till 11 o'clock. My little one would come over from the house and fall asleep on the magazine rack. I didn't have enough sense to say I was closed."

But times were changing. Mines shut down and families moved. But the Longos stayed to raise three children and the store stayed open.

When Lydia Aston, a nurse advocate for rural health issues in West Virginia, bought the historic Reppert/Gabler House at the river's edge in 1975, Longo recognized a kindred spirit.

"She came into my store one day and asked me if I knew any place where we could build a clinic. I told her to talk to the people at the Monon Center and that got the ball rolling. That's how we got the Cornerstone Care clinics started."

When Lock Seven was removed in 1986, the water level in that stretch of the river rose 15 feet. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers declared the riverfront a higher flood plain, and in 1992, it began making plans to condemn all the buildings there, including Aston's historic home.

"We were all upset and had a lot of meetings at the fire hall but people were afraid. They really didn't know what to do. It was Lydia Aston who stood up to the Army Corps of Engineers and refused to let them condemn all those houses. She got me involved with talking to lawyers, going to court, all of that. She knew who to call and she never gave up. Lydia saved a lot of our history. We lost some houses, but the Corps fixed six of them and returned them to the borough and now we rent them. It's a wonderful story. I kept records and it's all in the book."

In 1992, Longo helped found the Nathanael Greene Historic Foundation, a non-profit organization that promotes the history of Greensboro and funds walking trails, community improvement projects, festivals and conferences.

Longo is still in the thick of it. And she still has an eye for a kindred spirit.

When borough council needed a new member, Longo began knocking on doors. Mary Shine's well-tended house caught her eye and Longo bided her time until Shine retired from teaching.

"I told her, 'If you want to keep this a beautiful town, you'd better get on the council.' Now look at her. She really knows how to get things done. It takes people who are committed to care for a community."

(Colleen Nelson is freelance writer and artist in Holbrook, Pa. She teachers creative writing at Bowlby Library in Waynesburg, Pa. Reprinted from Living in Greene County magazine, a publication of the Observer-Reporter)

Shop, walk and meditate on the battlefield

HOMESTEAD, Pa. – No doubt, the site of the Battle of Homestead is an unlikely location for an artist’s rendition of an ancient meditation circle.

Nevertheless, Lorraine Vullo decided to create her $90,000 labyrinth, funded by grants, along the Monongahela River, where one of the nation’s bloodiest labor fights played out in 1892.

The art installation is hidden over a hillside beside the sprawling Waterfront retail complex on the site of the former Carnegie Steel, the forerunner to U.S. Steel. It's not far from the mill's pump house, which has been restored by the Rivers of Steel National Heritage Area that was created by Congress in 1996 to preserve sites relating to Big Steel.

It was on this riverbank where striking union steelworkers exchanged gunfire with Pinkerton guards whom Henry Clay Frick dispatched there to reopen the mill with cheaper labor. Seven workers and three detectives were killed before the battle ended, along with efforts to organize Pittsburgh steelworkers.

A steady stream of the curious walked around in circles Sunday at the maze-like walkway lined with rectangular stones. Others took a quick glance and left, seeming confused.

A six-pointed star can be found in the epicenter of the temporary installation. Along the outer edge of the circle are concrete paving stones that appear like rays of the sun. They bear the names of mills that once stood along Pittsburgh’s three rivers.

I obediently followed the path, trying to find some inner steel mojo, but could only wonder why such a garden would cost 90 Gs.