The Homewood Chronicles, Part II − 23 August, 2004
Finding Wideman's Homewood
I had been paying close attention to the names of the streets in Wideman's books about Homewood. They include Tioga, Susquehanna, Frankstown, Homewood Avenue, Hamilton, Finance, "Dumferline", Braddock Avenue, and last, but by no means least, Cassina Way. On page 113 of my edition of "Hiding Place", there is a passage describing how one would get from here to there traversing some of these streets.
The night before I was to visit Homewood, my dad pulled out a map of Pittsburgh and quickly located Homewood. He recognized some of the streets that had been mentioned in the newspaper spread, and perhaps some others. He had worked at Westinghouse High School, which served the Homewood community, many, many years ago. But the newspaper had not mentioned Tioga or Susquehanna or Cassina Way or any of the other streets in Wideman's Homewood. I was not surprised. I was pretty sure that there were two very different Homewoods.
When I had my chance to look at the map, I located Wideman's Homewood, and it was a compact and crowded several blocks. It was with delight and wonder that I located each and every street, streets that are real and do not just exist in some book. Real people live real lives on these streets.
I tried to trace the route described in "Hiding Place" on the map, and realized that things had changed in Homewood since the scene in the description had taken place. A street that was supposed to have "died" at another now went through for several additional blocks. The scene in question had taken place when Wideman's younger brother had been 25 years old. I suppose this brother is in his 50's or late 40's now, which would place this scene in the mid to late 70's.
I carefully planned my approach into Homewood, taking special care to decide ahead of time where I would park. I had planned my visit to be a walking tour. I had deliberately brought my dog Lily because she is a people magnet, and I believed that she would make my presence more tolerable and less awkward for the people I would meet, and for me as well. She would be my ambassador of good will, so to speak.
I would not be taking this map with me, so I drew my own, a tiny subset of a single neighborhood among many in Pittsburgh. I assumed that I would use it as a reference once I got there.
That night, before bed, I carefully laid out the clothing I would wear to Homewood. I did not want to look like I came from where I really come from. I wanted to look a little sloppy; clean, but careless in my dress. I wanted to fit in somehow, although as a Mid-western-looking white person, that would be virtually impossible. The best I could do was a smudged Pirates' T-shirt. The Pirates are the home team; what could be more Pittsburgh?
Walking the Streets
I prepared carefully on the morning of my visit. I drank no coffee and no fluids other than milk. I took one last bathroom break right before I entered Homewood. I did not want to need a bathroom while I was there. I thought about taking a camera with me on my walking tour, but I made no decisions. But once I hit the streets, it did not take me long to realize that there was little I could do to make myself stand out more than to be snapping lots of pictures.
My heart rate increased as I drew close to the place where I would park. When I reached the intended street, it was obvious that I should not park there. So I continued on, searching for a more appropriate place to park. The street had not looked dangerous, it just did not contain a single sign of life. As I continued on, I looked for someplace that was shaded. It had grown rather hot, and I had a car full of computer gadgets and food. Shade was not very easy to find.
I finally found some shade and parked. I stuffed the hand-drawn map in my pocket, and readied the dog. I had parked very near Cassina Way, which is the street where so many of Wideman's stories take place. It was where one of his family's homes was located. As I traveled through the streets, I found that I did not need the map. The streets were right there in front of me. I did not really care in which order I traversed them.
I crossed over to Tioga, and saw that it was being resurfaced, and that a brand new building had just been erected. My first contact with Homewood residents was about to take place. Four or five people sat in chairs just in front of the building. As I came up to them, some looked at me with suspicion, others without much reaction. I asked them about the building, which they said was a new school. They were immediately interested in Lily and the contraption she wears on her snout. They thought it was a muzzle, in which case she would be a biting dog. I explained that it was a "Gentle Leader", which is a device for maintaining control over the dog.
As I explained how it gives the owner control over the head, which effectively gives the owner control of the entire body, a very young man who had previously looked at me with a great deal of distrust piped up with the very appropriate analogy of the halters used on horses. I told him that he was exactly right. He looked friendlier now.
The people all had hand-drawn signs propped up on their knees. I tried to figure out what the signs were for, and asked if they were on strike, and I think I may have gotten one "no". But it was clear that these folks decided that they were done talking with me. So I went on my way.
I continued to explore, nodding at one or two people I passed. Some of the homes I saw were burned out, unoccupied, and sometimes boarded-up. Other homes were occupied , but had front yards littered with trash. On other streets I saw houses that seemed shabby, but in reasonably good repair. Some even had reasonably-sized fenced back yards. Perhaps the most spectacular sight was a house with a large yard filled to capacity with stuffed animals, most of which were teddy bears.
But overall the place seemed largely abandoned. At some point I began to wonder where all the children had gone. I had heard no sounds of children at play. A moment later, I happened upon an entire playground full of young children. As soon as they saw Lily, cries of "Doggie! Doggie!" sounded. I went over to the playground fence, and the children became even more excited. Everyone wanted to pet the doggie.
I spoke with the adult present (a daycare worker), and she could not let me bring the doggie inside the enclosure because of regulations. But the children tried their best to coax Lil over to the fence so they could pet her through the chain-links. She seemed pretty indifferent at first, more interested in sniffing the grass. But I convinced her to be more sociable, and one little girl had the chance to stroke Lil's head.
I was delighted with these kids. They reminded me of when I used to work with kids like them at a neighborhood center years ago. What was so lovely was that they were still so wide open - trusting, joyful, and curious. I later wondered what would become of these children. Would they become more like the distrustful young man I had just met? Would they ever fulfill their potential?
I continued to explore, specifically seeking out row houses. Wideman had described a set of row houses on Cassina way -- one side of the houses fronted on Cassina Way, and the other side of the houses (totally separate units) fronted on a different street. I did see several different sets of row houses. One was actually behind a very high fence - completely off-limits for viewing or exploring. Another was completely boarded up. One or two rows looked like they were actually occupied. Not all of them were on Cassina Way.
I met several other people before my visit was over. I spoke with a young man who wanted to be sure that I knew that the "muzzle" on Lily was not keeping her mouth shut. I ran through the explanation of the Gentle Leader once more, and he seemed to find it very interesting. He eagerly asked whether she did tricks. I had to disappoint him with a "not very many". But I took my cue from the previous group and went on my way before I wore out my welcome.
On my way back from trekking down past Braddock Avenue, I momentarily shared a street corner, while waiting to cross, with a woman who gave me the business that I thought I might have gotten sooner. Cocking her head to one side, she quipped "So... you're just out walking your dog, is that right?" I knew that this is probably what every other person was wondering as well, but hadn't asked.
I told her the truth, but not the whole truth. I had planned to make no mention of Wideman. I kept it simple and answered, "Well, sort of... I grew up in Pittsburgh, and I've been to a lot of different neighborhoods. This is one I hadn't been to yet." I thought that my response had come out much better than I could have planned. I smiled and moved on, feeling that it was best not to elaborate.
A bit further down the street, I made small talk with an older man, who seemed just delighted to talk, although his hearing was poor. However, I was beginning to feel the effects of the heat and lack of hydration, and I imagined that Lil might be feeling the same way. I headed back towards the car, taking an indirect route so that we would not pass the original group inhabiting the new school's sidewalk.
When I reached our street, another elderly man immediately waved me over, wanting to know about the contraption on Lil's snout. I said the first line about it being a training device, and he immediately started moving away, motioning me to follow. We came up to his yard, where his enormous black lab was chained. He made a very stern face, and made repeated jabs in the air towards the dog, which promptly slunk back into his pen.
The man told me that he had trained his dog to respond to pointing. I was very impressed - this was a man who was clearly the master of his beast. The man had a hole in his throat, and had to hold his finger over the hole to speak. Even so, his voice was high and wheezing.
But he was very interested in learning more about what the Gentle Leader could accomplish, even though he obviously understood how to control his animal. I explained that its greatest virtue was that it could help an owner keep his dog from pulling. But I also cautioned him that I had typically seen a different device used on dogs as large as his.
He told me that his dog wanted me to come into the yard to say hello. So I left Lil in his care and approached the dog in a semi-crouching position, as I'd learned, in order to present as little threat as possible. This was probably unnecessary, because the dog just ate up every bit of attention I could give him. He even turned around and sat with his back towards me so I could scratch his back and rump, as all dogs love.
At the man's urging, I stood up and asked the dog to sit. He sat, and I gave him one of the many dog biscuits I'd stuffed into my pocket earlier. I tried the "down" command, and tried to use my hand to gesture, but this didn't work. I asked the man how he would do it, and tried to replicate what he showed me, but I got no response from the dog.
I think that the dog saw the second biscuit in my hand, and had focused on it, just the way I've seen Lil focus on a biscuit in hand and fail to obey the current command. I gave him the biscuit anyhow, and left the yard to rejoin the man and my own dog.
I told the man that we needed to get going - we were both really thirsty. He immediately offered to fetch me some pop. He pointed at a shanty in his yard, saying it was "our clubhouse". I declined, saying that I didn't drink pop, which is true. I suppose I would have checked it out if he'd offered me water, but he didn't, so we made our exit.
Debriefing
I had felt absolutely no threat from any person I encountered in Homewood. I never for one moment felt that I was in danger. I hadn't expected to be in danger, but then again, I had never before visited a ghetto as a stranger.
I had tried very hard not to hope for much in the way of human interaction during my visit. I did not want to be disappointed. Instead, I had found people to be much more willing to converse than I would have expected. Some of the people I had passed were clearly waiting for my own greeting or sign of recognition before they would offer theirs. When they got my greeting, they freely responded, and their expressions relaxed perceptibly.
I knew from my readings of much African-American literature that more than any other black people, those living in the ghetto had every reason to distrust white people. But these people were obviously willing to make their decisions on a case-by-case basis. That is not to say that they were crazy about me being there. But I felt that by coming into their community and showing them every bit of respect that I could, I had passed muster and left people feeling relatively unconcerned about my presence.
One thing that was clear was that Homewood residents at the opposite ends of the age spectrum were the most trusting. At the young end of the spectrum, I was not at all surprised that the children were still trusting and open. I would have felt very sad if they had not been. I've had too much experience with ghetto children not to expect them to behave this way. At their best young ghetto children are as friendly, loving, and curious as any other young children. At their worst, they have had to grow up too fast, and lack qualities such as the natural curiosity of the young child.
But the friendly, relaxed attitude of the much older generation puzzled and thrilled me. I wondered whether these folks were just too savvy to be suspicious of some young white chick walking her dog through the 'hood. Where's the threat?
I'd learned years ago from a black friend that a sign that can tell a black person much about an approaching white person is whether he or she will maintain eye contact. I had made an effort to meet the gaze of every person I encountered, even if it was from a distance. I was not afraid, and maintained an attitude of confidence that I had nothing to fear.
Maybe the older generation is simply better at sizing people up than young adults, who face a life full of unknowns and have reason to fear the future. This is a question I find worth pursuing.
The woman who had given me the business about "just out walking the dog" was roughly half way between the children and the elderly, age-wise. She was the most up front with her suspicion, but at the same time did not seem threatened. She just wanted to know what was really going on here, and expressed her desire to know with a touch of ironic humor.
Rewarding my Ambassador of Goodwill
I felt that this entire trip had been hard on Lily. She'd been anxious at my parents' house whenever I left her sight. She was a long way from anything familiar, and half of her family was absent. Now I had just subjected her to about an hour of milling about in hot sunlight on unforgiving, heat-radiating pavement. She has never done well in the heat of summer.
She had done me a great service by being my ambassador of good will. I believed that she had more than a little to do with the success of the trip. I felt that I owed her the reward of some time in the type of environment that would make her happy.
I took her to Mellon Park, a beautiful, hilly, tree-filled park not far from Homewood. I let her off of her leash, fully prepared to accept a civil fine should I be caught red-handed. I let her roam and sniff, roll in the grass, and chew on a stick. She seemed happy, and I let her enjoy it while she could, because we had a long hot ride ahead of us before she could return to her home in Ann Arbor.
I had been paying close attention to the names of the streets in Wideman's books about Homewood. They include Tioga, Susquehanna, Frankstown, Homewood Avenue, Hamilton, Finance, "Dumferline", Braddock Avenue, and last, but by no means least, Cassina Way. On page 113 of my edition of "Hiding Place", there is a passage describing how one would get from here to there traversing some of these streets.
The night before I was to visit Homewood, my dad pulled out a map of Pittsburgh and quickly located Homewood. He recognized some of the streets that had been mentioned in the newspaper spread, and perhaps some others. He had worked at Westinghouse High School, which served the Homewood community, many, many years ago. But the newspaper had not mentioned Tioga or Susquehanna or Cassina Way or any of the other streets in Wideman's Homewood. I was not surprised. I was pretty sure that there were two very different Homewoods.
When I had my chance to look at the map, I located Wideman's Homewood, and it was a compact and crowded several blocks. It was with delight and wonder that I located each and every street, streets that are real and do not just exist in some book. Real people live real lives on these streets.
I tried to trace the route described in "Hiding Place" on the map, and realized that things had changed in Homewood since the scene in the description had taken place. A street that was supposed to have "died" at another now went through for several additional blocks. The scene in question had taken place when Wideman's younger brother had been 25 years old. I suppose this brother is in his 50's or late 40's now, which would place this scene in the mid to late 70's.
I carefully planned my approach into Homewood, taking special care to decide ahead of time where I would park. I had planned my visit to be a walking tour. I had deliberately brought my dog Lily because she is a people magnet, and I believed that she would make my presence more tolerable and less awkward for the people I would meet, and for me as well. She would be my ambassador of good will, so to speak.
I would not be taking this map with me, so I drew my own, a tiny subset of a single neighborhood among many in Pittsburgh. I assumed that I would use it as a reference once I got there.
That night, before bed, I carefully laid out the clothing I would wear to Homewood. I did not want to look like I came from where I really come from. I wanted to look a little sloppy; clean, but careless in my dress. I wanted to fit in somehow, although as a Mid-western-looking white person, that would be virtually impossible. The best I could do was a smudged Pirates' T-shirt. The Pirates are the home team; what could be more Pittsburgh?
Walking the Streets
I prepared carefully on the morning of my visit. I drank no coffee and no fluids other than milk. I took one last bathroom break right before I entered Homewood. I did not want to need a bathroom while I was there. I thought about taking a camera with me on my walking tour, but I made no decisions. But once I hit the streets, it did not take me long to realize that there was little I could do to make myself stand out more than to be snapping lots of pictures.
My heart rate increased as I drew close to the place where I would park. When I reached the intended street, it was obvious that I should not park there. So I continued on, searching for a more appropriate place to park. The street had not looked dangerous, it just did not contain a single sign of life. As I continued on, I looked for someplace that was shaded. It had grown rather hot, and I had a car full of computer gadgets and food. Shade was not very easy to find.
I finally found some shade and parked. I stuffed the hand-drawn map in my pocket, and readied the dog. I had parked very near Cassina Way, which is the street where so many of Wideman's stories take place. It was where one of his family's homes was located. As I traveled through the streets, I found that I did not need the map. The streets were right there in front of me. I did not really care in which order I traversed them.
I crossed over to Tioga, and saw that it was being resurfaced, and that a brand new building had just been erected. My first contact with Homewood residents was about to take place. Four or five people sat in chairs just in front of the building. As I came up to them, some looked at me with suspicion, others without much reaction. I asked them about the building, which they said was a new school. They were immediately interested in Lily and the contraption she wears on her snout. They thought it was a muzzle, in which case she would be a biting dog. I explained that it was a "Gentle Leader", which is a device for maintaining control over the dog.
As I explained how it gives the owner control over the head, which effectively gives the owner control of the entire body, a very young man who had previously looked at me with a great deal of distrust piped up with the very appropriate analogy of the halters used on horses. I told him that he was exactly right. He looked friendlier now.
The people all had hand-drawn signs propped up on their knees. I tried to figure out what the signs were for, and asked if they were on strike, and I think I may have gotten one "no". But it was clear that these folks decided that they were done talking with me. So I went on my way.
I continued to explore, nodding at one or two people I passed. Some of the homes I saw were burned out, unoccupied, and sometimes boarded-up. Other homes were occupied , but had front yards littered with trash. On other streets I saw houses that seemed shabby, but in reasonably good repair. Some even had reasonably-sized fenced back yards. Perhaps the most spectacular sight was a house with a large yard filled to capacity with stuffed animals, most of which were teddy bears.
But overall the place seemed largely abandoned. At some point I began to wonder where all the children had gone. I had heard no sounds of children at play. A moment later, I happened upon an entire playground full of young children. As soon as they saw Lily, cries of "Doggie! Doggie!" sounded. I went over to the playground fence, and the children became even more excited. Everyone wanted to pet the doggie.
I spoke with the adult present (a daycare worker), and she could not let me bring the doggie inside the enclosure because of regulations. But the children tried their best to coax Lil over to the fence so they could pet her through the chain-links. She seemed pretty indifferent at first, more interested in sniffing the grass. But I convinced her to be more sociable, and one little girl had the chance to stroke Lil's head.
I was delighted with these kids. They reminded me of when I used to work with kids like them at a neighborhood center years ago. What was so lovely was that they were still so wide open - trusting, joyful, and curious. I later wondered what would become of these children. Would they become more like the distrustful young man I had just met? Would they ever fulfill their potential?
I continued to explore, specifically seeking out row houses. Wideman had described a set of row houses on Cassina way -- one side of the houses fronted on Cassina Way, and the other side of the houses (totally separate units) fronted on a different street. I did see several different sets of row houses. One was actually behind a very high fence - completely off-limits for viewing or exploring. Another was completely boarded up. One or two rows looked like they were actually occupied. Not all of them were on Cassina Way.
I met several other people before my visit was over. I spoke with a young man who wanted to be sure that I knew that the "muzzle" on Lily was not keeping her mouth shut. I ran through the explanation of the Gentle Leader once more, and he seemed to find it very interesting. He eagerly asked whether she did tricks. I had to disappoint him with a "not very many". But I took my cue from the previous group and went on my way before I wore out my welcome.
On my way back from trekking down past Braddock Avenue, I momentarily shared a street corner, while waiting to cross, with a woman who gave me the business that I thought I might have gotten sooner. Cocking her head to one side, she quipped "So... you're just out walking your dog, is that right?" I knew that this is probably what every other person was wondering as well, but hadn't asked.
I told her the truth, but not the whole truth. I had planned to make no mention of Wideman. I kept it simple and answered, "Well, sort of... I grew up in Pittsburgh, and I've been to a lot of different neighborhoods. This is one I hadn't been to yet." I thought that my response had come out much better than I could have planned. I smiled and moved on, feeling that it was best not to elaborate.
A bit further down the street, I made small talk with an older man, who seemed just delighted to talk, although his hearing was poor. However, I was beginning to feel the effects of the heat and lack of hydration, and I imagined that Lil might be feeling the same way. I headed back towards the car, taking an indirect route so that we would not pass the original group inhabiting the new school's sidewalk.
When I reached our street, another elderly man immediately waved me over, wanting to know about the contraption on Lil's snout. I said the first line about it being a training device, and he immediately started moving away, motioning me to follow. We came up to his yard, where his enormous black lab was chained. He made a very stern face, and made repeated jabs in the air towards the dog, which promptly slunk back into his pen.
The man told me that he had trained his dog to respond to pointing. I was very impressed - this was a man who was clearly the master of his beast. The man had a hole in his throat, and had to hold his finger over the hole to speak. Even so, his voice was high and wheezing.
But he was very interested in learning more about what the Gentle Leader could accomplish, even though he obviously understood how to control his animal. I explained that its greatest virtue was that it could help an owner keep his dog from pulling. But I also cautioned him that I had typically seen a different device used on dogs as large as his.
He told me that his dog wanted me to come into the yard to say hello. So I left Lil in his care and approached the dog in a semi-crouching position, as I'd learned, in order to present as little threat as possible. This was probably unnecessary, because the dog just ate up every bit of attention I could give him. He even turned around and sat with his back towards me so I could scratch his back and rump, as all dogs love.
At the man's urging, I stood up and asked the dog to sit. He sat, and I gave him one of the many dog biscuits I'd stuffed into my pocket earlier. I tried the "down" command, and tried to use my hand to gesture, but this didn't work. I asked the man how he would do it, and tried to replicate what he showed me, but I got no response from the dog.
I think that the dog saw the second biscuit in my hand, and had focused on it, just the way I've seen Lil focus on a biscuit in hand and fail to obey the current command. I gave him the biscuit anyhow, and left the yard to rejoin the man and my own dog.
I told the man that we needed to get going - we were both really thirsty. He immediately offered to fetch me some pop. He pointed at a shanty in his yard, saying it was "our clubhouse". I declined, saying that I didn't drink pop, which is true. I suppose I would have checked it out if he'd offered me water, but he didn't, so we made our exit.
Debriefing
I had felt absolutely no threat from any person I encountered in Homewood. I never for one moment felt that I was in danger. I hadn't expected to be in danger, but then again, I had never before visited a ghetto as a stranger.
I had tried very hard not to hope for much in the way of human interaction during my visit. I did not want to be disappointed. Instead, I had found people to be much more willing to converse than I would have expected. Some of the people I had passed were clearly waiting for my own greeting or sign of recognition before they would offer theirs. When they got my greeting, they freely responded, and their expressions relaxed perceptibly.
I knew from my readings of much African-American literature that more than any other black people, those living in the ghetto had every reason to distrust white people. But these people were obviously willing to make their decisions on a case-by-case basis. That is not to say that they were crazy about me being there. But I felt that by coming into their community and showing them every bit of respect that I could, I had passed muster and left people feeling relatively unconcerned about my presence.
One thing that was clear was that Homewood residents at the opposite ends of the age spectrum were the most trusting. At the young end of the spectrum, I was not at all surprised that the children were still trusting and open. I would have felt very sad if they had not been. I've had too much experience with ghetto children not to expect them to behave this way. At their best young ghetto children are as friendly, loving, and curious as any other young children. At their worst, they have had to grow up too fast, and lack qualities such as the natural curiosity of the young child.
But the friendly, relaxed attitude of the much older generation puzzled and thrilled me. I wondered whether these folks were just too savvy to be suspicious of some young white chick walking her dog through the 'hood. Where's the threat?
I'd learned years ago from a black friend that a sign that can tell a black person much about an approaching white person is whether he or she will maintain eye contact. I had made an effort to meet the gaze of every person I encountered, even if it was from a distance. I was not afraid, and maintained an attitude of confidence that I had nothing to fear.
Maybe the older generation is simply better at sizing people up than young adults, who face a life full of unknowns and have reason to fear the future. This is a question I find worth pursuing.
The woman who had given me the business about "just out walking the dog" was roughly half way between the children and the elderly, age-wise. She was the most up front with her suspicion, but at the same time did not seem threatened. She just wanted to know what was really going on here, and expressed her desire to know with a touch of ironic humor.
Rewarding my Ambassador of Goodwill
I felt that this entire trip had been hard on Lily. She'd been anxious at my parents' house whenever I left her sight. She was a long way from anything familiar, and half of her family was absent. Now I had just subjected her to about an hour of milling about in hot sunlight on unforgiving, heat-radiating pavement. She has never done well in the heat of summer.
She had done me a great service by being my ambassador of good will. I believed that she had more than a little to do with the success of the trip. I felt that I owed her the reward of some time in the type of environment that would make her happy.
I took her to Mellon Park, a beautiful, hilly, tree-filled park not far from Homewood. I let her off of her leash, fully prepared to accept a civil fine should I be caught red-handed. I let her roam and sniff, roll in the grass, and chew on a stick. She seemed happy, and I let her enjoy it while she could, because we had a long hot ride ahead of us before she could return to her home in Ann Arbor.
Comments:
peahayes (November 22, 2007. 05:14am)
Folks reading this entry - The Homewood Chronicles, Part I is a good intro if you haven't read it.