DIAN RETURNS TO PITTSBURGH FOR FOOD, FISH AND FOOTBALL
Bill Cooper
Being married to a diehard football fan is time consuming to say the least. Being married to a Steeler’s fan is…well, something else all together.
Dian, my wife, headed to Pittsburgh recently, with me in tow. She spent her early years there and had not returned in 22 years. She spoke of people and places as if things happened yesterday. Yet, she kept saying, “I hope I will recognize places around home.” A lot can change in 22 years.
I tagged along on the trip on Dian’s promise to take me fishing in the Alleghany River, which flows right through downtown Pittsburgh. Although it became a very polluted river at one time, it is now a well known smallmouth and walleye fishery. I contacted Jeff Knapp, a respected outdoor writer and smallmouth guide from the area and he agreed to take us out for a day of smallmouth fishing on the beautiful Alleghany.
The hustle and bustle of city life enveloped us shortly after we left the Pittsburgh airport in a rented car. Traffic soon came to a halt where we crept along for the next hour. Dian explained that there were two seasons in Pittsburgh: winter and construction. Over the next few days, I found out the later to be true. We ran into highway construction, regardless of which way we went. I ached for the solitude of the Ozarks.
Dian lived near the Alleghany most of her young life and learned to smallmouth fish there, one of her redeeming qualities. We spent the first two days of vacation touring small towns where she had lived at one time or another. All were quaint little towns draped on the steep hills and ridges that cloaked the river. All had been tied to the steel mills of the old days. Dian reminisced of the people, places and events she had known. All had changed. She wandered the streets of Brackenridge in search of a tiny deli which she had frequented as a child. To her delight, it still stood in place. Dian strode into the little store pointing at this and that saying, “it’s just like I remember”.
A little old lady came from the back asking if she could help us. Dian said, “its’ Mrs. Dileo”. Mrs. Dileo broke into a smile as soon as she heard Dian’s voice. But the lights really came on when Dian mentioned her maiden name: Semprevivo, undeniably Italian.
Dian hung out at Mrs. Dileo’s place often as a child, finding a place of comfort and often a good word of advice. “I worried about you so much when you were growing up,” Mrs. Dileo said. “But, I have worried about many of the kids in the community. I have had dozens upon dozens, over the years, that would stop by the store after school each afternoon while on their way home. But, I remember you so very well, Dian. You were special.”
From Brackenridge, we were off to Saxonburg in search of another meat market, Thoma’s. There Dian hoped to introduce me to Saxonburg bologna. It took a little looking, but we eventually found the marvelous store. Ooh, the smells of smoked meats and spicy aromas made our salivary glands kick into high gear as soon as we got out of the car. We quickly acquired a round of the famous Saxonburg bologna, stopped at a local store for bread, mustard and soda. The bologna was everything Dian said it was. We had a feast.
We ambled through the countryside to Sarver, where Dian and her family lived in a small mobile home court for years. The court was much larger these days and the local ice cream shop had long since gone by the wayside. To her delight, however, the Lernerville Speedway, just down the road, was still going strong. And we drove several miles down Coal Hollow Road which led kids to Turtle Rock and the old swimming hole. The area had become much more populated, but still remained quite rural.
We met a short while with Dian’s cousin JR Semprevivo and family and caught up on all the family history. And there was a lot of it after a 20 year absence.
At long last I got to go fishing. Jeff Knapp met us early in the morning, in Kittaning and we followed him about 30 miles north to East Brady, another beautiful old river town. The broad river looked much like our Ozark streams, clear, cold and running fast. Knapp had rods rigged and we began fishing immediately. Dian caught a chunky smallmouth on her very first cast.
Knapp made several runs up and down the scenic river to show us sights and reach new fishing grounds. We caught beautifully colored smallmouth everywhere we went. When all was said and done Dian had caught the first fish on her first cast, the biggest fish, the most fish and the last fish. What can I say, it was her home river!
On Saturday we toured downtown Pittsburgh. One of our first stops was at the Heinz History Museum which happened to have on hand a traveling exhibit of Steeler history. All six Lombardi trophies were there. Of course Dian had her picture made with them.
Dian took me to the warehouse district, which is an old part of town that has been converted into a strip district with dozens of ethnic food shops and one Steelers store after another. The ambience of the place revolved around the jingle; “here we go Steelers, here we go. Pittsburgh goin’ to the suuuper bowl!” Every other store seemed to have the rhythmic song playing. It was definitely Steelers country.
We strolled around the shops picking up more Steelers garb for the game the next day. Hunger pains struck and we headed for another of Dian’s favorite eateries: Primanti Brothers. A long, waiting line of hungry fans strung out onto the street. Dian assured me it would be worth the wait. The speciality consisted of sandwich with your choice of meat on freshly sliced bread along with melted cheese, French fries and cole slaw. Yep, all on the same sandwich. And, oh, it was so good. The biggest problem was stuffing the monster sandwich in your mouth, but Dian managed.
Dian scarcely slept on Saturday night in anticipation of the big game on Sunday, the Steelers vs the Atlanta Falcons. We left hours before the game started. We parked near the Heinz Museum and walked approximately three miles to the stadium. Downtown Pittsburgh is gorgeous. The riverfront is very well laid out with attractive buildings and numerous old yellow bridges marking the skyline. Avid boaters had motored up the Alleghany and Monongahela (they meet in downtown Pittsburgh to form the Ohio River) and moored at the sports district for some serious tailgating parties.
Yellow and black cloaked Heinz Field as 65,000 Steelers fans turned out for the game. Dian could be heard over the roar of the 64,999 other fans. And after a dramatic bit of overtime play, the Steelers pulled it out with a score of 15-9. All I heard on the way home was: “we’re on our way to the Suuuuuuuper Bowl!” I dream of huge smallmouth bass.
Bill Cooper
Being married to a diehard football fan is time consuming to say the least. Being married to a Steeler’s fan is…well, something else all together.
Dian, my wife, headed to Pittsburgh recently, with me in tow. She spent her early years there and had not returned in 22 years. She spoke of people and places as if things happened yesterday. Yet, she kept saying, “I hope I will recognize places around home.” A lot can change in 22 years.
I tagged along on the trip on Dian’s promise to take me fishing in the Alleghany River, which flows right through downtown Pittsburgh. Although it became a very polluted river at one time, it is now a well known smallmouth and walleye fishery. I contacted Jeff Knapp, a respected outdoor writer and smallmouth guide from the area and he agreed to take us out for a day of smallmouth fishing on the beautiful Alleghany.
The hustle and bustle of city life enveloped us shortly after we left the Pittsburgh airport in a rented car. Traffic soon came to a halt where we crept along for the next hour. Dian explained that there were two seasons in Pittsburgh: winter and construction. Over the next few days, I found out the later to be true. We ran into highway construction, regardless of which way we went. I ached for the solitude of the Ozarks.
Dian lived near the Alleghany most of her young life and learned to smallmouth fish there, one of her redeeming qualities. We spent the first two days of vacation touring small towns where she had lived at one time or another. All were quaint little towns draped on the steep hills and ridges that cloaked the river. All had been tied to the steel mills of the old days. Dian reminisced of the people, places and events she had known. All had changed. She wandered the streets of Brackenridge in search of a tiny deli which she had frequented as a child. To her delight, it still stood in place. Dian strode into the little store pointing at this and that saying, “it’s just like I remember”.
A little old lady came from the back asking if she could help us. Dian said, “its’ Mrs. Dileo”. Mrs. Dileo broke into a smile as soon as she heard Dian’s voice. But the lights really came on when Dian mentioned her maiden name: Semprevivo, undeniably Italian.
Dian hung out at Mrs. Dileo’s place often as a child, finding a place of comfort and often a good word of advice. “I worried about you so much when you were growing up,” Mrs. Dileo said. “But, I have worried about many of the kids in the community. I have had dozens upon dozens, over the years, that would stop by the store after school each afternoon while on their way home. But, I remember you so very well, Dian. You were special.”
From Brackenridge, we were off to Saxonburg in search of another meat market, Thoma’s. There Dian hoped to introduce me to Saxonburg bologna. It took a little looking, but we eventually found the marvelous store. Ooh, the smells of smoked meats and spicy aromas made our salivary glands kick into high gear as soon as we got out of the car. We quickly acquired a round of the famous Saxonburg bologna, stopped at a local store for bread, mustard and soda. The bologna was everything Dian said it was. We had a feast.
We ambled through the countryside to Sarver, where Dian and her family lived in a small mobile home court for years. The court was much larger these days and the local ice cream shop had long since gone by the wayside. To her delight, however, the Lernerville Speedway, just down the road, was still going strong. And we drove several miles down Coal Hollow Road which led kids to Turtle Rock and the old swimming hole. The area had become much more populated, but still remained quite rural.
We met a short while with Dian’s cousin JR Semprevivo and family and caught up on all the family history. And there was a lot of it after a 20 year absence.
At long last I got to go fishing. Jeff Knapp met us early in the morning, in Kittaning and we followed him about 30 miles north to East Brady, another beautiful old river town. The broad river looked much like our Ozark streams, clear, cold and running fast. Knapp had rods rigged and we began fishing immediately. Dian caught a chunky smallmouth on her very first cast.
Knapp made several runs up and down the scenic river to show us sights and reach new fishing grounds. We caught beautifully colored smallmouth everywhere we went. When all was said and done Dian had caught the first fish on her first cast, the biggest fish, the most fish and the last fish. What can I say, it was her home river!
On Saturday we toured downtown Pittsburgh. One of our first stops was at the Heinz History Museum which happened to have on hand a traveling exhibit of Steeler history. All six Lombardi trophies were there. Of course Dian had her picture made with them.
Dian took me to the warehouse district, which is an old part of town that has been converted into a strip district with dozens of ethnic food shops and one Steelers store after another. The ambience of the place revolved around the jingle; “here we go Steelers, here we go. Pittsburgh goin’ to the suuuper bowl!” Every other store seemed to have the rhythmic song playing. It was definitely Steelers country.
We strolled around the shops picking up more Steelers garb for the game the next day. Hunger pains struck and we headed for another of Dian’s favorite eateries: Primanti Brothers. A long, waiting line of hungry fans strung out onto the street. Dian assured me it would be worth the wait. The speciality consisted of sandwich with your choice of meat on freshly sliced bread along with melted cheese, French fries and cole slaw. Yep, all on the same sandwich. And, oh, it was so good. The biggest problem was stuffing the monster sandwich in your mouth, but Dian managed.
Dian scarcely slept on Saturday night in anticipation of the big game on Sunday, the Steelers vs the Atlanta Falcons. We left hours before the game started. We parked near the Heinz Museum and walked approximately three miles to the stadium. Downtown Pittsburgh is gorgeous. The riverfront is very well laid out with attractive buildings and numerous old yellow bridges marking the skyline. Avid boaters had motored up the Alleghany and Monongahela (they meet in downtown Pittsburgh to form the Ohio River) and moored at the sports district for some serious tailgating parties.
Yellow and black cloaked Heinz Field as 65,000 Steelers fans turned out for the game. Dian could be heard over the roar of the 64,999 other fans. And after a dramatic bit of overtime play, the Steelers pulled it out with a score of 15-9. All I heard on the way home was: “we’re on our way to the Suuuuuuuper Bowl!” I dream of huge smallmouth bass.
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