Back ThenSuppose you are a wealthy gentleman in 1899. You have decided to see a piano recital. You fasten your bow-tie and shimmy into your greatcoat. You step into your carriage and trot down Eighth Avenue, past the new streetlamps and evening pedestrians. You climb 40 steps, arm-in-arm with your bustled wife, arriving at the imperial doors of the Carnegie Music Hall. As you enter, you marvel at the domed ceiling vaulted above you. The stage is warmly lit with gas lamps; the auditorium echoes with gossipy whispers. A chandelier dangles above. As you sit in a form-fitting
wooden chair, you see it: There on the broad stage of polished wood stands a Steinway piano – one of only 30 constructed this year, the Music Hall’s pride and joy.
As you wait for the maestro to step out and receive furious applause, you consider taking out a book at the new library, which occupies this same magnificent building. Maybe you’ll take a dip in the underground pool. Homestead is no longer such a virulent place, now that the strikes have simmered and Mr. Carnegie commissioned this palatial superstructure. Things are looking up in Homestead.
Right NowSuppose you are young, a college graduate, you live in Pittsburgh in 2008, and you love live music. Word reaches you that there’s a New Pornographers show playing in Homestead. “Homestead?” you wonder.
You drive with a bunch of friends to 11th Avenue, park your car on a street of prim Victorian houses; you round the enormous brick building and enter the Music Hall. “Holy cats!” you think, marveling at the domed ceiling, the brass banisters, the ornate carvings lining the stage. As you sink into an uncomfortable wooden chair, you see it: a vintage Steinway piano, built over a century ago. It’s beat up and chipped, but man, could it clean up
nicely. As you wait for the lights to dim, you consider getting a Carnegie Library card, maybe taking a dip in this (allegedly heated) underground swimming pool.
Homestead has a reputation that includes poverty, crime, and the sprawl of the Waterfront – but who knew there was such a beautiful community center, perched on the top of an unknown hill?
How Time Flies“The intention was that the library would be for the workers,” says Mark Fallon, a library board member. “But the workers could never afford it.”
When Andrew Carnegie commissioned the
Homestead Library he was probably making up for the unfair labor policies and violent protests that had recently plagued the borough. Visitors could borrow books, hear music, hold rallies, hear public readings, and even watch symphonies. They could swim and bowl in the duck-pin bowling alley; they could shoot hoops on the basketball court or jog around the room on an elevated running track.
What’s astounding is, aside from the bowling alley, very little has really changed. Yes, the enormous coal furnace in the basement is now defunct, replaced by gas. The building has been fully electrified and air-conditioned. The church organ, built into the Music Hall walls, stopped working in 1947, and the Steinway was most likely dropped at one point, shattering the legs. But otherwise, the pool, library and music hall have been used continuously since the library was finished in 1898.
Fallon, who grew up in Pittsburgh, took his first swim lessons at this very same pool, among the Roman-bath-like pillars. When he returned, years
later, for his two daughters’ swim-lessons, he felt a kind of nostalgic vertigo. “It was like an LSD flashback,” Fallon says, laughing. “The sights, the smell, the sound, they were all the same as when I was a kid.”
But that’s nothing: Anna Mae Gorman learned to swim here, too. She competed in the 1932 Olympics for the U.S. swim team. And she still strokes laps, every day, in the same pool. How’s that for dedication?
A Change of PaceLast year, at the suggestion of board member Dan Lloyd, Mark Fallon and Kate Grannemann decided to do something a little different. Grannemann is the Library’s executive director, and she knew that the Music Hall had essentially languished for the better part of a century.
She started to discuss the Music Hall’s future with Fallon, who is a music fanatic and owns over 10,000 CD’s (who speaks as highly of recent artists like Bright Eyes and M. Ward as he does Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones). “I grew up in this area,” he says. “I’ve been to thousands of concerts. I thought this place could fit a niche.”
The Music Hall might be suitable for a national comedian or a small opera, but it had been drastically under-utilized in recent years. The Hall had opened its doors perhaps 25 times annually, and only for “little dance groups, school functions, that kind of thing.”
“We were trying to find news way to generate income,” adds
Grannemann, noting that the Homestead branch, while part of the Carnegie Library system, is financially independent. Grannemann has had a varied career in nonprofit companies – including work for
WYEP and
Pittsburgh’s First Night celebration – and the idea of popular entertainment seemed natural.
The idea was controversial – the thought of rock concerts in the middle of Homestead caused some anxiety. “Some folks didn’t see the potential that we did,” Grannemann recalls.
So they tried an experiment: Last August, Fallon, Grannemann and especially Dan Lloyd started working with Drusky Entertainment, a local booking agency. Drusky took a chance when others wouldn't consider. And it paid off: the first concert was Patti Smith, which sold out and earned rave reviews. Audiences discovered an elegant facility with room for 1,022 people, where parking was plentiful and most seats were wheelchair-accessible. There have been 16 concerts held since, half of which sold out, and visitors have arrived from at least 26 different states.
“We think it’ll just continue to grow,” predicts Fallon. “The Music Hall is gonna run itself.”
Need a Lift?The basketball court, running track and pool have all remained intact.
Meanwhile, after surprise earnings from recent fundraisers, the Library staff decided to build a gym as well – a kind of municipal YMCA, where the TV’s are flat-screened and membership costs only $35 per month. There’s also a former document vault that was recast as a free-weight room.
The Next Hundred YearsNow that momentum is building, Grannemann and Fallon see big projects ahead: Renovating the Steinway will cost about $60,000, and getting the pipe-organ to made sound again could cost upwards of $90,000. They want to obtain a liquor license for concerts.
They plan to install a coffee kiosk upstairs. The revenue from touring bands has greased the wheels, making any project seem possible, if a little slow-going. For now, it’s nice to replace the marble steps outside, to consider installing a new elevator. And there’s nothing but time and enthusiasm backing these up. As Homestead struggles with its past, the Library flourishes as never before.
“My father grew up a mile from here,” says Fallon. “My mother grew up three blocks from here. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”
Robert Isenberg is a writer and actor. He is co-author of
The Pittsburgh Monologue
Photographs:
The Homestead Carnegie Library
Andrew Carnegie
Mark Fallon in the library attic
Swim Team marker
Rich Wesley (left) and Keith Henrickson
(right), regular users of the gym
Mr Hicks works out in the exercise facility
All photographs copyright Brian Cohen