The first time I walked down from the South Side Slopes to Flats, I was smiling. I was holding hands with my sweetheart, anticipating the upcoming dinner date we had planned, proud that I remembered the correct knot for my neck-tie. It was a little too warm for semi-formal dress but we agreed that our first real dinner date should be done right. Besides, the sun was going to set by the time we made our way back to her apartment. She lived a little over a mile up on 18th Street and it was quite the trek. But that didn’t bother us tonight. We were on our way to some fancy Spanish restaurant that we’ve never been to. On the way down the hill, we could sometimes see across the river which actually looked pretty nice from this far away. We talked about which neighborhoods we wanted to explore and which ones we wouldn’t mind moving to some day. What was that funny thing Katie said at work? We should hang out with her some time. Do you like the look of those shutters on that house? I guess that green color goes well with the bricks. We moved slow. We moved with ease and we smiled when the wind blew. Our cheeks were pink, we were warm, and I were about to spend way too much money on a meal but we were smiling.
She picked out that wine. I didn’t know anything about that and still don’t. It doesn’t seem right to eat vegetable paella but I don’t eat fish and I’m sure it’ll be good. Dessert comes and we order more drinks. We’re tipsy and laughing about why a place as fancy as this would have butter packets. They’re the same ones you get at Ritters. You’d think they’d at least put it on a tiny plate or something. It was a wonderful dinner, complete with spirits and libations, dessert and coffee, and a charmingly awkward attempt at a serious conversation. But let’s never do it again. Who are we fooling? We’d both rather just get some french fries at that one bar near your house. It’s only a block away. We slowly made our way back up the hill. Happy, full, and beaming. Why not take the steps on the way home? They take a little longer but where do we have to be? It’s just more time together. We’ve been conditioned by public transit to expect that journeying up and down all of Pittsburgh’s hill should be a relatively comfortable, so we weren’t going to be making this walking up and down the steps thing a regular occurrence in our lives. That how it goes when you’re a twentysomething in Pittsburgh and your girlfriend lives in the South Side Slopes. You bus up, you bus down, and when you’re feeling romantic, you take the steps. And even on those few occasions, you complain. Who has time for that? I get enough exercise from riding my bike to work. I walk around all day at work, I’m not about to climb a hill after all of that.
But that’s not how it used to be for the twentysomethings living the hills. The South Side of Pittsburgh, like many other neighborhoods in the Steel City, was traditionally a place of industry. The Jones and Laughlin Steel company had facilities near what is now the South Side Works. The workshops were built on the Flats near the rivers for easier access to transportation while workers, who were primarily of Eastern European origin, lived in the Slopes (Regan). Workers would make the trek from their hill-side houses down the steps to the Flats and then to the mills for their shift. After a full day’s work, they would make the climb back up. This wasn’t just any work, though. Any work of fiction that takes place in a mill or brief Google search will tell you that a steel mill was a rather dangerous place of employment, especially during the nineteenth and better part of the twentieth century. It was a dirty, physically taxing, and brutal job. The hours were as long as place was hot. When I think about that nice date and those steps, I can’t help but that what it would have been like to walk up and down them everyday.
I imagine that a steelworker would be carrying a much different kind set of feelings while walking down the steps. Maybe an apprehensive or irritable anticipation. Anticipating the heat and the foreman both breathing down my neck, both making me sweat. Anticipating the sun coming up in a few minutes. Anticipating the nine more days til that paycheck with the hours from that shift I picked up. I could really use the extra couple of bucks. Shit, did I square up with butcher? I wonder how pissed the landlord will get if I’m $5 short, I’m sure I could use a beer when I get done tonight. This walk might be nice if I could actually see through this damn smog. It’s a sign of prosperity I guess. Here already? Time to clock in. Man, how can every shift go so fast and slow at the same time? Speeding up production again? We can’t work this fast! This place will be the death of me, I swear to god. Time to punch out. I can’t wait to wash my face. I could use a drink. Nah, I better head straight home but I’ll get yinz a round next time. I swear to god, these steps get steeper every day. Or maybe I’m just tired. I can’t even see the stars through this fucking smog. No one can see anything through this smog. Maybe it’ll clear up a bit and I’ll see one or two tomorrow night. After tomorrow’s shift. Or maybe the night after that. Or the one after that.
For every step and sidewalk in the city of Pittsburgh, there’s a memory or two, in someone's head or in a story somewhere. Everywhere we go, we’re walking on memories. Beneath our feet are the stories of people who walked before us. Here in Pittsburgh, those people stoked the fires and made the steel that forged a future for those of us living here today. I don’t know how to properly carry the two images. The image of me smiling on my way to dinner and the image of some so tired that they can never seem to sleep it off, walking the same steps. I guess I don’t have to. But I can’t help but think about it.