Slag
Train (Click to enlarge)
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This article is ostensibly
about a slag-pile in Pittsburgh. Slag, a by-product of steel making,
was dumped in the open throughout western Pennsylvania. The pile
in question covers 238 acres along a creek known as Nine Mile Run
in Pittsburgh's east end; it extends from the Squirrel Hill Tunnel
to the Monongahela River shore. For over 90 years the site has represented
the largest stretch of open riverfront land in the City. During
the first three decades of this century elites and progressives
in Pittsburgh attempted to conserve this area for public use. For
the next seven decades it was a gruesome moonscape, buried under
as much as 120 feet of industrial by-products and wastes. At the
century's end, however, another effort began to restore the Run
and make it available for public use. As a new draft of this land's
history is now being prepared, the time is ripe to reconsider the
previous drafts, and to draw some conclusions from the journey this
parcel of land has experienced.
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We live at a time when human history
and natural history appear to be on a collision course. The increasing tempo
of human activity has been matched by rapid consumption of finite natural
resources, resulting in what ecologist George Woodwell terms "biotic impoverishment."
Few places have had more of such impoverishment, or have had a harder struggle
the consequences, than the City of Pittsburgh. The dichotomy between preservation
of open space and disposal of waste in Pittsburgh has larger implications;
as does the current effort to reclaim open space out of waste. At the most
fundamental level, the question is one of coexistence: can we live in some
degree of harmony with our surroundings? In the long run, we may have little
choice.
The conflict between profit
and preservation, commodification and conservation has always been present
in American life; it has been grist for the mills of environmentalists
and historians alike. For the most part, their focus is on wilderness,
deforestation, water rights, and western expansion. Yet, when MacArthur
Fellow and western U.S. historian Patricia Nelson Limerick writes of the
need for a "third draft" of U.S. history -- one that views economic development
in a new and more critical light -- she omits urban American history.
For Limerick, the first draft was one of manifest destiny and expansion;
the second of impartial bureaucrats protecting the public good through
public works and efficient management of public lands. For Limerick, both
imposed significant, perhaps unacceptable costs on the land and on the
public, costs which a third draft of history might investigate more thoroughly.
Her third draft has yet to be written, and she concedes that it may never
be. Nonetheless, Limerick's typology should be expanded beyond the U.S.
west. As the Nine Mile Run slag pile demonstrates, human economic activities
have often left a dismal environmental record. Supposedly impartial public
administrators could do nothing to prevent destruction of the landscape.
As the Nine Mile Run site now enters a new phase of development, the old
tensions between community, government, development and elites have been
reasserted, but with some promise that things can be different this time.
The history of urban communities such as Pittsburgh has enjoyed drafts
similar to Limerick's analysis of the west and the third draft may, at
Nine Mile Run, finally be underway.
The industrialization
of Pittsburgh took place over many years. By 1803, iron making was
established as Pittsburgh's most valuable industry -- surpassing
even whiskey production, the community's dominant enterprise in
the 18th century. Access to natural resources and transportation
fueled large-scale industrial activity that transformed the landscape
of entire regions. In Pittsburgh, ore, timber and coal in outlying
areas and a network of waterways and highways made it a center of
heavy industry. Restrictions on the use of resources or the placement
of factories -- let alone disposal of waste -- were unheard of.
One of the largest foundries in ante-bellum America could be found
at Smithfield Street and Fifth Avenue in the heart of Pittsburgh.
By 1850, Pittsburgh was known for it sooty skies. Limitations on
industrial expansion and waste disposal were not part of either
public discourse or among the options available to policymakers.
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Homestead,
1930 (Click to enlarge)
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Pittsburgh in 1900 was a remarkable
development. Smoke from coal-burning factories, ships, steam locomotives
and homes enveloped the community. Visitors noted barren hillsides and speculated
that nothing could grow under such conditions. Margaret Byington, viewing
the city from Homestead early in the 20th century, wrote "The trees are
dwarfed and the foliage withered by the fumes; the air is gray, and only
from the top of the hills above the smoke is the sky blue." In 1907, 622
people died from typhoid fever, the result of contaminated drinking water,
more than any other city. The temperature of the Monongahela River was known
to top 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Narrow streets were choked with traffic.
The riverfronts were given over to steel mills, rail lines, parking lots
and barge traffic. A handful of parks were clustered in the city's wealthy
east end communities. Playgrounds and public recreation were otherwise unavailable.
Sanitary conditions in working class neighborhoods were deplorable. Hundreds
of workers were injured or killed in the city's factories. Sewage treatment
was not available and water lines reached working communities only intermittently.
Workers' housing was a shambles. In short, life in industrial Pittsburgh
could be described as a Hobbesian existence -- short, nasty and brutish.
As the costs of industrialization
became increasingly apparent, questions of Pittsburgh's development pattern
grew more urgent. Pittsburgh grew exponentially during the industrial
revolution. From a City of 50,000 in 1860, it topped 300,000 in 1900 and
became one of the largest cities in America. Pittsburgh was home to the
nation's first oil refinery and its first steel mill. The city expanded
its area from a little over one square mile to thirty. After 1907, when
the North Side was annexed, Pittsburgh approached a half-million residents.
For over 100 years, the City grew without any significant regulation or
management. The result was an admixture of industrial, commercial and
residential crammed into each region of the city and surrounding communities.
Streets and essential services were likewise mismatched to the needs of
the landscape and there was no notion of land use controls.
The rise of Pittsburgh's professional
and business elite late in the 19th century brought with it a nascent
urban environmentalism seeking both voluntary controls on and rational
planning for the Pittsburgh landscape. The limits of the first draft of
Pittsburgh's history were thus reached; unlimited economic development
was testing human tolerance beyond endurance. The attempt of urban elites
to impose their own will onto the landscape, however, relied upon moral
suasion and rational behavior; the political and economic system of industrial
America was not particularly responsive to either.
Turn-of-the-century Pittsburgh
spawned a Civic Club, an Engineers Society, a Chamber of Commerce, and
other civic organizations devoted to urban improvement. These organizations
sought an efficient city freed of the burdens of smoke, sewage, traffic,
and dilapidation. In the case of the Civic Club, the effort went beyond
aesthetics and was a moral issue: a dirty environment led to crime and
immorality. The effort was in part informed by Frederick Law Olmsted's
belief that a healthy atmosphere and environment would directly improve
the well being of urban residents. By providing a healthy and attractive
city, with recreation and open space, many of the city's professionals
believed that working class pathologies could be ameliorated. In short,
the process could serve the professional and business classes' paternalism
and self-interest. Opportunities for public-sector partnerships, however,
were limited. The Flinn-Magee Republican machine had ruled the city since
1879 and did not embrace reform. After 1906, however, Democratic Mayor
George Guthrie opened new opportunities for civic involvement.
Nine Mile Run was an important
element in a larger strategy to bring parks and recreation to the City.
Early 20th Century advocates for open space and land use controls in Pittsburgh
targeted Nine Mile Run for preservation. They had three options at their
disposal. The first and most direct was to acquire the land for a park
and add it to the City's growing park infrastructure. The second was to
create a city plan, implement strict zoning, and prevent intrusions into
sites such as Nine Mile Run. The third was to let the market take its
course. The latter, which was essentially a default, took place.
Protected open space in Pittsburgh
was limited to four parks and a smattering of playgrounds. The largest
of these, Schenley Park, had been donated to the City rather than acquired.
Few of these resources were available to working class families. Nine
Mile Run could have been an exception. At the turn of the century, Nine
Mile Run was among Pittsburgh's more remarkable landscapes and one of
the largest undisturbed areas in the City. It represented Pittsburgh's
last remaining access point to the Monongahela River; industry had already
seized the rest of the waterfront. The watershed drains the East End of
the City, while the creek itself traverses a steep slope on its southerly
course to the River. A variety of communities including Wilkinsburg, Homewood,
Edgewood, and Squirrel Hill surround it. For much of the 19th century
it was of little note, a community of small landowners several miles from
the core of Pittsburgh. Photographs from the 1920s show a lush valley
with little development. Uses in the late 19th century included a salt
mine, a few farms and houses, and a small golf course.
The reform forces gathered
strength in the early 20th century. Although lumped together as "progressives"
different issues drew in different constituencies. Each attempted to create
professional bureaucracies to impartially administer controls on waste
and pollution. Each attempt failed. Smoke control ordinances were passed
in the late 19th century in response to complaints from the Civic Club
and other reformers. In 1907 a citywide inspector of smoke was appointed
to enforce the ordinances. But the policy proved ineffective because there
was no substitute for coal in transportation, industry, and home heating.
Technology for cleaner combustion was limited, and cleaner fuels were
not available. Smoke continued to choke Pittsburgh into the 1960s.
Original
Culvert at Nine Mile Run, 1950
(Click to enlarge)
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Sewage policy proved
even more daunting. Despite overwhelming water contamination problems,
the Mayor and City Council refused to implement Progressives' recommendations
that a water treatment system be built. Only after thousands of
typhoid fever deaths did the city construct a water filtration system,
which began service in 1907. In 1912, however, the city's consulting
engineers rejected the notion of a sewage treatment plant on the
grounds that it would be cheaper for down-river communities to treat
their drinking water than for Pittsburgh to construct sewage treatment.
With that, the issue was shelved until the creation of the Allegheny
County Sanitary Authority in the 1950s. Sewage treatment remains
a difficult and costly issue in the Pittsburgh region to this day.
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The struggle for open space in
Pittsburgh was a part of the much larger effort to exert control over the
degradation of the air, land and water of the region. Once more the region's
turn-of-the-century elites attempted to use the same public policy tools
that failed in the case of sewage and smoke control. The effort represented
Limerick's second draft of history, in which experts and professionals limit
the impact of capitalism and provide the benefits of efficiency and economic
opportunity. In the case of smoke control, sewerage, and open space that
effort directly conflicted with the ongoing development of the first draft
of urban history -- that of unregulated development -- and did not include
any larger effort to question the costs and benefits of regional development.
Both drafts sought continued use of the landscape for industrial purposes;
neither sought coexistence nor did they seek to directly confront the mounting
human and environmental costs of the industrialized city.
In 1909, George Guthrie, a
reform Mayor and one of the few Democrats elected in the early twentieth
century, appointed a Civic Commission to deal with the deteriorating urban
landscape. Its mandate was broad but its powers non-existent. Nevertheless,
it represented Pittsburgh's first major attempt at environmental improvement
through a public-private partnership. The Pittsburgh Civic Commission
was made up the city's top business and professional leaders. Notably
lacking was the metals industry. The group interpreted its mandate as
one of urban planning and reform, encompassing rail, water, and street
systems, public lands and buildings, sewage, control over development,
smoke abatement, building codes and further studies. In sum, the initial
desire of the Commission was nothing less than a comprehensive city plan
with a broad regulatory mandate overseen by impartial representatives
such as those on the Commission itself. Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., whose
Pittsburgh efforts had included landscaping the H. J. Heinz home in Pittsburgh,
was engaged to assist the Commission's members (including Heinz) in their
deliberations. Unfortunately for the Commission, Mayor Guthrie left office
in 1909 and was replaced by Republican William Magee, nephew of long-time
Mayor Christopher Magee. Magee had little use for the Commission.
The Commission's work grew
out of, but failed to embrace the findings of, the Pittsburgh Survey of
1907. The survey, an independent review of the city's urban conditions,
had documented Pittsburgh's deplorable environmental and social conditions.
The Commission, however, quickly set aside the social agenda of the Survey,
and instead focused on environmental issues. The Survey had recommended
better working conditions, more sanitary housing, and economic improvement
for the region's workers. Representing newer, more professionalized businesses,
the Commission's members had no tolerance for the favoritism and patronage
of the old Flinn-Magee machine. They also had little tolerance for major
social changes; they looked to changes in urban systems to gradually bring
about social reform. Half the Commission's members appeared in the Blue
Book, the city's social register. A quarter of the members were lawyers
and over a third were businessmen. Four workers were added by Guthrie,
but they were greatly outnumbered. Wealthy resident of the East End, the
Commission's members strongly embraced the paternalism of the larger reform
movement.
The Commission's primary project
was its plan for the City, prepared by Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., son
of the great designer and architect. Olmsted's report, completed in 1910
and published in 1911, was among the Commission's better efforts. He recommended
a new system of downtown roads and conservation of Pittsburgh's steep
slopes. He took a stab at a comprehensive plan for the City including
improvements in the riverfront, rail links, and more. He was also the
first to recognize the value of Nine Mile Run:
Frederick
Law Olmsted, Jr.
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Perhaps the most striking
opportunity noted for a large park is the valley of Nine Mile Run.
Its long meadows of varying width would make ideal playfields; the
stream, when it is freed from sewage, will be an attractive and
interesting element in the landscape; the wooded slopes on either
side give ample opportunity for enjoyment of the forest, for shaded
walks and cool resting places; and above all it is not far from
a large working population in Hazelwood, Homestead, Rankin, Swissvale,
Edgewood, Wilkinsburg, Brushton, and Homewood; and yet it is so
excluded by its high wooded banks that the close proximity of urban
development can hardly be imagined. If taken for park purposes,
the entire valley from the top of one bank to the top of the other
should be included, for upon the preservation of these wooded banks
depends much of the real value of the park.
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Magee's Administration, however,
proceeded without Olmsted. Magee embraced planning insofar as it dealt with
improving transportation and commerce; the explosion of automobile traffic
in the downtown business district made improvement imperative. The rest
of Olmsted's recommendations -- conserving steep slopes and purchasing Nine
Mile Run in particular -- were ignored. The failure was significant. Olmsted's
vision would have provided a variety of open space and aesthetic improvements
to the region. Instead, Magee promoted a $10 million bond issue for infrastructure
that avoided open space, smoke control, and sewer systems. The Civic Commission
refused to endorse Magee's proposal and urged that the bond be defeated.
It won handily and the Civic Commission faded away. Purchasing the Nine
Mile Run valley also faded, but one questions whether Nine Mile Run could
have been acquired in this period. Olmsted, for instance, did not aggressively
pursue the matter. Having filed his report, Olmsted left Pittsburgh but
stayed in touch with all sides of the debate, urging them on. He corresponded
with Magee, urging greater attention to an overall city plan, but took no
active role in the development of the region. Having proposed a park, he
left it to his clients on the Commission to pursue the matter. The Civic
Commission clearly would have preferred that Magee's bond issue provide
conservation funding, including the preservation of Nine Mile Run; but the
fight over Magee's bonds also seemed to devolve into a grudge match between
the Commission and Magee. Retaining open space was lost in this fight.
The effort to acquire Nine
Mile Run was also subordinated to the city's need for new playgrounds.
The Civic Club of Allegheny County, which was also dominated by Blue Book
members, sought active recreation rather than open space, and managed
to outcompete the Civic Commission's recommendations for scarce city funds.
The City issued bonds throughout the 1910s for playgrounds and to maintain
the four existing parks; but no effort was made to acquire Nine Mile Run.
Magee's long tenure did include
support for planning. In 1911 the state legislature created with Magee's
support the Pittsburgh Department of City Planning. The Department promptly
came up with an action plan for itself including a review of the road
system, an investigation of river improvements, improvements to public
buildings and lands including parks, adequate water supply, smoke abatement,
and intergovernmental relations. In sum, it was almost everything the
Civic Commission had asked for. Once again, however, advocates for rational
use of the landscape were to be disappointed. The legislature and the
City Council gave the Department little actual power. Planning was advisory
and the Department staff and the Planning Commission that oversaw it had
no regulatory authority. Nonetheless, in 1912 the Planning Department
began work on a comprehensive city plan. In 1913, the Department boasted
eight staff people. But during World War I its small staff was all but
eliminated in a cost cutting move. No comprehensive plan ever emerged,
and no new parks were created. Similarly, Magee established a Bureau of
Recreation to promote playgrounds, but its professional manager resigned
after only two years and little was accomplished. The professional bureaucracy
that community elite had hoped would bring effective government to Pittsburgh
collapsed in a few years. Whether it would have been up to challenge of
managing Pittsburgh's diverse needs was never tested; it never got a chance.
Nevertheless, effective planning may have been the most effective remaining
means of protecting open space such as Nine Mile Run.
As it became increasingly apparent
that the Magee Administration was not willing to expend funds on land
acquisition; land use restrictions were becoming Nine Mile Run's only
hope. Indeed, park acquisition was such a low priority that when the H.
J. Heinz family offered to donate their East End home and landscaped grounds
for a park, the gift was refused because of the maintenance costs. Frick
Park had been accepted as a gift only a few years before, and the City
was struggling to keep up its existing infrastructure, even though much
of it had been given to them. The possibility of acquiring the Nine Mile
Run valley seemed very distant.
At the end of World War I,
New York City adopted zoning and Pittsburgh leaders saw it as a model.
Zoning did not exist in Pittsburgh prior to 1923; the landscape was at
the mercy of whomever happened to own it at any time. Progressives found
the situation increasingly intolerable. On October 26, 1918, Richard.
B. Mellon and two of his associates invited industrial and civic leaders
to meet at Mellon Bank. Mellon, the son of Judge Tom Mellon and brother
of Andrew Mellon, was chief executive officer of Mellon Bank and the financier
for much of the region's business activity. The other two were Charles
Armstrong, head of Armstrong Cork Co. and James Hailman, the engineer
at the City Planning Commission. 15 individuals attended the meeting,
and heard Mellon and Armstrong urge them to discuss city planning and
the need for action "to secure for the city the benefits of scientific
planning such as is now being applied elsewhere in order to control its
proper development, both industrially and socially." The group voted to
form a citizens' committee on planning. The involvement of a dominant
business figure such as R. B. Mellon clearly had a significant impact
on the process.
The Citizens' Committee on
City Plan was formed with Armstrong as President and Mellon as Vice President.
The second meeting was set for November 27. The invitation read, "The
object of the organization is the creation of a city plan for Pittsburgh
and the development of city planning in all its aspects in the Pittsburgh
district. The formation of such a volunteer committee is in line with
similar action in the other large cities of the country and is considered
not only the best, but practically the only way to secure for Pittsburgh
the benefits of scientific and comprehensive city planning, leading to
systematic progress along predetermined lines."_ The new effort was significant.
Six task forces were created to study a range of urban problems in depth.
A newsletter, Progress, was begun. George Ketchum, a well-known public
relations executive, took control over outreach and assembled an 11,000-person
mailing list. The several reports amounted to a comprehensive city plan.
Although the demographics of
the Citizens Committee were similar to that of the Civic Commission --
predominantly prominent professionals and business managers -- the number
and volume of participants was significant. Frederick Bigger, a planning
advocate, served as the professional staff of the Committee. The size
and economic clout of the Committee quickly won significant and wide support.
Magee, still in office, wisely decided not to cross the Committee but
instead endorsed its program.
The Committee's subcommittee
on recreation issued its parks report in 1923. The Subcommittee was made
up of William H. Robinson of the H. J. Heinz Company, Marie Dermit of
the Allegheny County Civic Club, James Hailman of the City Planning Department,
Grant Huble of the Oil Well Supply Company, Charles Armstrong of Armstrong
Cork Co., Edgar Kauffman of the department store chain, Herbert May of
the May Drug Company, and Arthur Pierce of Cutler-Hammer Manufacturers.
It was a group representing the service industry and the civic leadership
of the region. No heavy industry was represented in the group; instead
it was made up of light manufacturing, processing, retail and professionals.
It was a group sure to support environmental improvement in the region,
but not to back any extreme measures. Howard Heinz, the 36 year-old Chairman
of the H. J. Heinz Company, served on the Board of the Committee and worked
through Robinson to ensure a strong report. There is no record of dissent
from the other members of the panel. Their report harshly criticized the
existing method of allocating parks and recreation in the city. They found
that recreation was heavily tilted toward the wealthiest communities while
working districts lacked access to open space. They also deplored the
lack of available land for waterside parks. The subcommittee noted that
in the whole Monongahela River valley only one site was adequate as a
location for a waterfront park. All the others were foreclosed because
of rail, road, or industrial activities at the water line. Nine Mile Run
was the one exception.
The subcommittee recommended
major changes at Nine Mile Run. Not just a steep slope park with recreation
opportunities, Nine Mile Run was to be an active waterside attraction.
The more passive attributes that Olmsted recommended for the site were
now dramatically changed. Instead, a botanical garden, athletic field,
camp and picnic grounds, tennis courts, a theater and a lake with a small
beach were all recommended. These recommendations are consistent with
the paternalism of the subcommittee's members. Rather than having intrinsic
value of their own, parks were seen as important to the overall health
of the community. The subcommittee recommended healthy recreation based
on the need for physical and moral stability in the community. In addition,
the subcommittee hoped that more parks would off-set the undesirable elements
of commercial recreation such as the profitable amusement park at Kennywood.
Apparently, the Committee members felt that such activities attracted
undesirable characters and did not lead to moral improvement. Instead,
the Committee members argued that an investment in so-called healthy recreation
was also an investment in public health, contentment and efficiency.
Historian Roy Lubove dismissed
the work of the Citizens' Committee with much the same disdain he held
for the Civic Commission. For Lubove, both were made up of business and
professional elites who sought bureaucratic rationalization instead of
fundamental change. Yet there were important distinctions between the
two entities. Much of the Civic Commission's work was disregarded and
the Commission itself lacked a following. The Citizens' Committee was
much broader and operated with its own professional staff led by architect
and designer Frederick Bigger, a public following, and had induced the
city government to endorse its efforts. Mayor William Magee, a fierce
opponent of the Civic Commission, embraced the Committee's work. The Committee
naively assumed, however, that Nine Mile Run could be acquired and protected.
It recommended that public funds be made available for the acquisition.
As events would show, however, time had already run out. '
Construction
of Storm Drain, 1929
(Click to enlarge)
Construction
Completed, 1931
(Click to enlarge)
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The only other element
of the Citizens' Committee's work that affected Nine Mile Run was
its emphasis on zoning and planning. Published in 1923 and adopted
by the City Council, the Committee's recommendations included separate
zoning for heavy and light industrial, commercial and low-density
and high-density residential areas, and limited building heights
in certain zones. The resulting act divided the city's real estate
community and professional elites. The banking and real estate interests
had done well by Pittsburgh's hap-hazard development styles that
allowed buyers and sellers to work without regard for the landscape
and free of community oversight or restriction. For the East End
residents of the Committee, however, the completely free market
endangered not only the physical health of the community, but also
its future as a place to do business. Those who held to the first
draft of Pittsburgh's history -- that of unparalleled economic opportunity
from rugged individualism -- clashed directly with progressives
seeking to place limits on economic use of natural resources. The
Citizens' Committee's members were clearly concerned that further
unregulated deterioration of the region would drive residents and
business away. Their opponents brought in heavy ammunition. State
Senator David Reed, testifying against the zoning ordinance on behalf
of the banking community, claimed the city's police power can only
be applied for reasons of safety, health and general welfare, and
not for general civic beauty. "Beauty may be desirable, but liberty
is more so," said Reed. "Neither the City Council nor the state
legislature can exercise police powers for aesthetic reasons." The
Planning Commission staff responded that the ordinance carefully
avoided aesthetic zoning, and conceded that it was not authorized.
Thus, the zoning advocates were forced to argue that zoning was
not an aesthetic issue but a control of nuisances. This severely
limited their ability to keep industrial activity out of the Nine
Mile Run valley.
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Moreover, the proposed ordinance
was riddled with holes. It gave broad amendatory and variance powers to
the City Council, the Planning Department, and to the new Zoning Board of
Adjustments. It did nothing to protect open space. According to the Pittsburgh
Regional Planning Commission's own published history, where parks and playgrounds
were concerned the Citizens' Committee could be little more than a gadfly.
It became clear by the late 1920s that the plan wasn't going to be followed.
Frederick Bigger in exasperation noted that "therein lies our community
stupidity, for piecemeal planning leads us nowhere."_ The Committee's own
newsletter, Progress, later complained "the right of the individual property
holder to market his property is superior to the right of the community
to control development."
All 238 acres of Nine Mile
Run valley were zoned residential. The protection that zoning provided,
however, came much too late. The Duquesne Slag Products Company of Pittsburgh
had purchased 94 acres the year before, in September of 1922. Although
there is no evidence that the company was influenced by the pending zoning
decision, one wonders whether they made the purchase in order to preempt
protective legislation. By making the original purchase, industry was
now grandfathered in the valley. Duquesne Slag, a waste disposal operation,
would dominate the valley for the next 70 years. The Company was established
in 1906 to dispose of slag from the Jones and Laughlin mills in Pittsburgh
and the USS Homestead Works in Rankin among others. Duquesne Slag did
not purchase the entire valley at once. Purchases took place periodically
between 1922 and 1962. In essence, Duquesne Slag took a very careful approach
to acquisitions in the Nine Mile Run Valley. Beginning on the western
slope and progressing eastward, the valley was purchased slowly over forty
years. By so doing, Duquesne Slag avoided controversy for many years.
Because Duquesne Slag owned property in the Valley prior to the creation
of zoning, their industrial use of what was zoned residential land was
deemed a "non-conforming use" and allowed to proceed. Indeed, there was
no significant effort to prevent the creation of the slag pile. Incredibly,
Duquesne Slag continued to claim a "non-conforming use" for every additional
parcel of land they purchased, even though those lands were zoned residential
and were not part of the original 94 acres acquired in 1922.
The slag dumped at Nine Mile
Run resulted from iron and steel production along the Monongahela River.
Almost all of it was generated by the Jones and Laughlin Steel Company's
plants in Pittsburgh. The mills in question used iron ore and coke to
make carbon steel; slag is the primary by-product. The slag is made up
of silica and alumina from the original ore. For every ton of iron produced
more than a half ton of blast furnace slag was produced. Steel-making
produced a quarter ton of slag for every ton of steel. Because of the
volumes and the weight of the slag produced by Jones and Laughlin, disposal
was a major concern. In recent years, slag material has been used as road
bed, fill, and for other uses. In the early twentieth century, however,
such uses were seldom explored. Instead the material was dumped in as
inexpensive a fashion as possible.
Duquesne Slag's acquisition
of the valley was fortuitous for the company. Located within a few miles
of the nation's largest steel mills, Duquesne Slag's Nine Mile Run site
gave them a competitive advantage over other disposal companies. Because
slag had no value the steel industry had to pay for its disposal; transportation
and land were the only significant costs. By locating their disposal operations
so close to the major mills, Duquesne Slag's transportation costs were
among the lowest possible and the steel industry, particularly Jones &
Laughlin, took advantage of the lower price.
Dumping began, according
to the Company, in 1922. Duquesne Slag would use heavy equipment
to remove metallics from the slag after dumping -- probably large
magnets -- in order to sell any scrap that might have been mixed
in with the slag. The company kept an employee on site to check
the slag as it came in -- bybarge and by rail -- to ensure that
it did not contain other wastes.The slag pile was built up in the
center, but tapered off as it approached residential areas that
might complain. The slag was watered as it was dumped in order to
reduce some of the dust, and the location of the major dumping grounds
in a valley may have reduced the noise levels. The earliest dumping
was clustered on approximately half of the original 94 acres, the
remainder being unsuitable land. The slag pile grew quickly. Aerial
photographs of Nine Mile Run show a slag pile 20to 25 feet in height
by 1937, covering the northern and western portions of the
property.
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Nine
Mile Run, 1938
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Having created a zoning ordinance
and a city plan, the Citizens' Committee faded from the field. The group
took notice of Duquesne Slag's presence in the Nine Mile Run valley -- writing
that the use of the valley for industrial purpose would be a mistake and
that its natural value far outweighed its value to industry. Like the Civic
Commission before it, however, the Citizens' Committee was unwilling to
move beyond advocacy toward implementing its projects directly. The founding
of the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy was a decade away, and no private
effort materialized to buy up the valley for conservation. Nor was there
an active lobbying effort for the Committee's Parks recommendations. As
had happened with the zoning ordinance, the Committee appeared to expect
the City's government to pick up its recommendations and implement them
without a fight. Moreover, the Committee made so many recommendations --
six volumes worth in all -- that it did not have the resources to oversee
the implementation of such a broad agenda. Nine Mile Run's acquisition fell
by the wayside.
On a more fundamental level,
public-private partnerships such as the Citizens' Committee were divorced
from the wards and neighborhoods that made up the backbone of Pittsburgh's
politics. Despite its newsletter and public relations work, the Committee
lacked the following needed to enact lasting reform, and the progressive
elites who made up the Committee found such electioneering beyond the
limits of their preferred approach. Instead, they relied on persuasion
and publicity, which did not reach the larger polity. The Committee's
successors, including the Allegheny Conference on Community Development,
faced a similar tension between elite programs centered on the central
business district, and the aspirations of neighborhood and community-based
organizations. As the slag pile expanded beyond its early boundaries,
it ran into a hailstorm of opposition from committed neighborhoods. These
community activists operated, however, without any connection to the reform
agenda of the city's professional and business leadership. The link between
business professionals and community organizations, however, was never
made and remains a weakness in the region's development agenda to this
day.
While the Allegheny Conference
was launching the Pittsburgh renaissance in the 1945, Duquesne Slag Products
Company purchased more land in the Nine Mile Run valley, bringing their
total holdings to nearly 200 acres. The slag pile expanded along with
the purchases. Throughout the Second World War, according to residents
of the area, three shifts a day worked unloading slag. A rail spur had
been built directly into the valley to facilitate disposal. At the same
time, the Squirrel Hill and Swisshelm Park neighborhoods expanded, bringing
more and more people into the general vicinity of the slag pile. The result
was politically combustible.
Dust
Blowing From the Slag Pile, 1938
(Click to enlarge)
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The Swisshelm Park Civic
Association was incorporated in 1937; the once rural community in
the easternmost section of the city had become a middle-class residential
area bordering Nine Mile Run on its southeastern corner. As the
slag pile advanced eastward, noise and dust pervaded the community.
As early as 1936, the citizens of the area petitioned the Henry
Clay Frick Estate and the City to purchase the northeastern portion
of the valley for inclusion in Frick Park. Doing so would have also
ensured that the slag pile would not extend to Swisshelm Park. The
Civic Association formally petitioned the City for the purchase.
Not surprisingly, the requests were rebuffed for lack of funds.
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Beginning in 1942, the Civic Association
engaged in what at first were friendly, and then more strident, protests
against Duquesne Slag's noise levels. After letters to the company produced
unsatisfactory results, the Civic Association in 1946 appealed to the Board
of Zoning Adjustment, complaining that the noise levels were in violation
of the area's residential zoning. Duquesne Slag rejected the complaints,
noting that increasing population in the area was bringing more and more
people onto the perimeter of their property and implying that the homeowners
should have known they were moving next to an active industrial site. That
Duquesne Slag itself had only recently acquired much of the property in
question was not mentioned. In January, 1947, the Board of Zoning Adjustment
rejected the Association's complaint, noting that Duquesne Slag's use of
the site was a non-conforming use by virtue of their preexisting ownership.
That the activity in question was taking place well outside of the original
1922 land purchase did not affect the Board's decision. The Association
protested that the noise levels were inappropriate regardless of zoning,
but the Board's staff declined to reconsider the matter, referring the Association
to the courts. The Board's cavalier dismissal of the Association's complaint
and appeal are remarkable in that they refused to give any consideration
to the Association's position, or to investigate the matter The Association's
complaint including a protest against blasting and use of heavy equipment
at odd hours. The Board merely noted that the operation in question had
been going on for some time, including a period prior to the enactment of
zoning, and that therefore the issue was outside of their jurisdiction.
In 1950, Duquesne Slag decided
to end rail disposal of slag and instead shift entirely to barges. Rail
rates had been increasing and barge transport was the more affordable
means of moving the waste materials. At first, the Company began to build
a wharf without any notice to the City and without a permit. As the Civic
Association raised questions, however, Duquesne Slag decided to request
a change in the area's zoning. To construct a wharf, loading docks and
to increase truck traffic in the area, management decided to have a portion
of Nine Mile Run deemed industrial. The company asked the Board of Adjustment
to rezone the portion of Nine Mile Run fronting the Monongahela River.
The Board quickly approved the request and forwarded it to City Council
for final action. A quick hearing was called at which community members
strongly objected to the change, noting that it would leave the southern
end of the valley open to any industrial use Duquesne Slag or a future
owner might deem appropriate. In addition, residents complained of the
truck traffic, noise, and nuisance of the slag operation. Moreover, they
formally objected to Duquesne Slag's use of a residential area for industrial
purposes. City Council nonetheless scheduled final action on the bill
for May 29. The Swisshelm Park Civic Association called an emergency meeting
on May 28, the day prior to City Council consideration, and formulated
a strategy. They resolved to seek a postponement of the Council's action
in order to marshal their forces; and to appear in large numbers during
the Council's hearings. The Association resolved to take direct action
to prevent rezoning.
On May 29, 1950 several dozen
members of the Civic Association appeared before City Council and objected
to passage of the rezoning ordinance. Surprised by the number of opponents,
the Council pushed back the date of final passage by a week and called
another hearing. On June 5, Duquesne Slag Products backpedeled and sought
to make concessions. They offered to build a footbridge over the areas
of heaviest truck activity, to minimize noise, to oil the road to prevent
dust, and to otherwise quiet its operations. They also agreed to cease
all rail operations in the area -- although this was already their intention
given the cost of rail transport. The Company also indicated that it wanted
to fill in the slag pile to a level grade and then sell the property for
residential lots. When asked how long this might take, the Company's attorney
estimated the time at less than a decade. Swisshelm Park's witnesses instead
demanded that the Council turn down the legislation and disallow further
use of the site for slag disposal. Their proposal fell on deaf ears. Councilmen
Weir and Fagan repeatedly noted that they were powerless to stop the slag
disposal operation and stated that the company had a right to dump on
its land regardless of past zoning. The rezoning bill was enacted quietly
in July.
Duquesne Slag kept none of
its promises. In 1954 the Swisshelm Park Civic Association petitioned
City Council again, noting that noise, dust, and improper use of residential
land threatened their property values and possibly their health. On March
29, another hearing was called. Duquesne Slag protested that they had
kept their promises, but had not constructed a footbridge over their truck
route on the grounds that few pedestrians ever ventured into the valley.
Members of the Association testified that City Council should not permit
further use of residential land for industrial purposes. They noted that
Duquesne Slag was dumping on over 90 acres of land outside of their original
1922 purchase and that the land was zoned residential. Moreover, the Association
testified that the Company had built a scrap metal recovery facility on
site without a permit. This operation was new, was located outside the
original lands of Duquesne Slag, and clearly was not subject to a non-conforming
use exemption. Jack Buncher of the Buncher Company, a contractor managing
the scrap recovery operation, stated bluntly that interference in the
slag and scrap operation would threaten the survival of Jones and Laughlin
Steel Company and with it the City's economic health. The Council members
decided to punt. The Council referred the matter to the City Solicitor's
office for a legal opinion. On February 14, 1955, nearly a year later,
the City Solicitor filed a brief report which acquiesced in Duquesne Slag's
fait accompli. Ignoring the case built by Swisshelm Park, the Solicitor
noted that if Duquesne Slag shut down now, an eyesore would be created
and that continued filling of the slag pile would be beneficial. On that
basis, the dumping could continue. With that, the City government let
the matter drop.
Frustrated by the City's
inability to protect their interests, Swisshelm Park retained the
law firm of Thorp, Reed and Armstrong to pursue legal action. After
sending letters to Duquesne Slag and meeting with representatives
of the Company, attorney Frank Gaffney advised the Association against
any further action. Enjoining Duquesne Slag, wrote Gaffney, would
require questionable legal proceedings at great cost to the Association's
small treasury. Thorp, Reed, however, had a conflict of interest.
The firm represented Allegheny Asphalt, a company doing business
with Duquesne Slag and which had previously been sued by residents
of Second Avenue in Hazelwood, along with Duquesne Slag, for nuisances
in that neighborhood. Thorp, Reed never disclosed this conflict;
Thomas Horrocks of Swisshelm Park discovered it in 1956 and brought
it to the law firm's attention. The Association ended its relationship
with Thorp, Reed and Armstrong. Feeling cut out of the process,
they never had their day in court.
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Nine
Mile Run, 1956
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In 1958 the City of Pittsburgh enacted a new zoning statute. Duquesne Slag
Products succeeded in having the entire Nine Mile Run valley zoned "S" --
special use -- a level of zoning which allowed their operations to continue.
The 1958 rezoning mooted the Swisshelm Park Civic Association's zoning case
against the Company. The Association protested the change and urged that
the land remain a residential zone, but met with the same indifference from
City Council as before. Nevertheless, the Association continued to monitor
the site carefully, filing repeated nuisance complaints and zoning complaints
against Duquesne Slag for the next twenty years. Although the group was
a severe annoyance to the Company in that period, there was precious little
left to be done. The City's administrative functions had completely and
utterly failed to protect the Valley, and even the Association's private
law firm was too heavily conflicted to represent the community's interests.
The last slag was dumped on
the site around 1972; by then approximately 17 million cubic yards of
slag filled the valley nearly from end to end. Construction and demolition
debris from Interstate 376 was also dumped there. In 1995, the Urban Redevelopment
Authority of Pittsburgh purchased the land for $3.8 million. The City's
master plan for the site envisions an extension of Frick Park, over the
slag, to the Monongahela River and construction of several hundred units
of mixed-income housing.
Nine Mile
Run, 1967
As the next phase of Nine Mile
Run's interaction with Pittsburgh begins, community involvement in the
City's design and management of the site has changed significantly. Public
meetings on both the design of the housing and the extension of Frick
Park are underway. Changes have been made to the size and the scope of
the housing development in order to reduce the concerns of surrounding
communities. Nevertheless, organized opposition to the site's reuse exists
in both Swisshelm Park and Squirrel Hill. Whether a new degree of cooperation
and coexistence can be created this time around remains to be seen.
The failure of civic leadership
and community-based organizations to cooperate, even to communicate, in
the face of the disaster at Nine Mile Run is obvious. The paternalism
of the Civic Commission and Citizens Committee may have made such cooperation
impossible. Thereafter, the Allegheny Conference and the Pittsburgh renaissance
ignored the area in favor of the central business district. Swisshelm
Park, as a neighborhood, lacked the resources and the clout to effect
the outcome at Nine Mile Run. Whether collaboration among the city's professional
and business leaders and its neighborhoods might have changed the outcome
is a tantalizing "what if."
The complicity of the City
of Pittsburgh in the destruction of Nine Mile Run is a particularly egregious
chapter in its history. The Board of Adjustment and the City Solicitor
willfully ignored their own ordinances and procedures in order to expedite
Duquesne Slag's operations. The Mayor's office ignored repeated requests
from civic leaders to buy the valley and protect it. The need of the steel
industry for cheap disposal sites took precedence over community health
and the interests of future generations. Whatever the failures and weakenesses
of the neighborhoods and the various public-private partnerships, they
do not excuse the failure of leadership at every level in the City government.
The failure of Progressive-era
environmental reformers and of neighborhood groups at Nine Mile Run is
significant and presaged many future problems. As Roy Lubove pointed out,
progressive reformers were elites with little public support. The coalition
favoring environmental improvement did not seek any broader social improvement
that might have taken support away from the Magee machine or prevented
Duquesne Slag from doing damage to the valley. Bureaucratic management,
in the end, was not able -- and often did not try -- to stem the sea of
waste and pollution that was enveloping Pittsburgh and the industrial
heart of America. Community groups without the backing of civic leadership
could do little but complain.
Of the variables involved in
the decision to turn a greenway into a slag pile, some were endemic to
Pittsburgh. These included a tradition of decentralized decision-making
which made it difficult to impose the community's will on the landscape.
Other variables were less parochial. The list here might include the unwillingness
of government to intervene in the commodification of the landscape; the
lack of power and resources available to bureaucratic professionals in
the city and in civic institutions, the weakenss of neighborhood groups
in large cities, and the business community's inability to police itself.
These variables effectively undermined public-private partnerships in
their effort to prevent the loss of irreplaceable landscapes such as Nine
Mile Run. Moreover, they point to the weakness of such partnerships in
the early to mid-20th century: lacking political power and economic resources,
they were no match for heavy industry.
Limerick's first draft of history
-- unrestrained economic development creating a bountiful society -- was
challenged at Nine Mile Run by elites and by neighborhoods seeking to
use bureaucratic means to limit the ravages of industrial production.
This second draft provided no more benefit to Nine Mile Run than did the
first. As the third draft gets underway, a variety of community and civic
leaders are taking direct action to protect their interests, including
protest meetings and grassroots organizing. The Urban Redevelopment Authority
and the Mayor are seeking to engage these concerns in a more direct manner
than has been seen at Nine Mile Run heretofore. Whether this third draft
will have a happier ending than the first two is uncertain. Yet, for the
first time in 60 years, there is some hope that Olmsted's vision for Nine
Mile Run might, in some small way, come to pass.
- Unpublished remarks
of Dr. George Woodwell to the Rachel Carson Homestead Association's
Annual Dinner, April 24, 1997, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
- Patricia Nelson
Limerick, "The Forest Reserves and the Argument for a Closing Frontier,"
in The Origins of the National Forests, ed. Harold K. Steen (Durham,
N.C.: The Forest History Society, 1992) 16.
- Catherine Elizabeth
Reiser, Pittsburgh's Commercial Development (Harrisburg: Pennsylvania
Historical and Museum Commission, 1951), 3, 191-194, 213
- Margaret Byington,
Homestead: The Households of a Mill Town (1910: reprint: Pittsburgh:
The University of Pitsburgh Press, 1996) 3.
- Joel A. Tarr,
"The Pittsburgh Survey as an Environmental Statement," in Pittsburgh
Surveyed, eds. Maurine Greenwald and Margo Anderson (Pittsburgh: University
of Pittsburgh Press, 1996) 181-183. Maurine Greenwald, "Visualizing
Pittsburgh in the 1900s" in Pittsburgh Surveyed, 133.
- Joel A. Tarr,
"Infrastructure and City Building," in City at the Point, ed. Samuel
P. Hays (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1989) 228, 240.
- John F. Bauman
and Margaret Spratt, "Civic Leaders and Environmental Reform" in Pittsburgh
Surveyed, 154. Joel A. Tarr, "The Pittsburgh Survey as an Environmental
Statement," in Pittsburgh Surveyed, 170. Joel A. Tarr, "Infrastructure
and City Building," in City at the Point, 241.
- Citizens Committee
on City Plan, Parks Report (Pittsburgh: Citizens Committee on City Plan,
1923) 65. "Country Club's Initial Play on Golf Course," Pittsburgh Dispatch,
July 28, 1901, Sec. 2, p 12.
- Joel A. Tarr,
The Search for the Ultimate Sink (Akron: University of Akron Press,
1996), 89, 92-95, 206. Joel A. Tarr, "The Pittsburgh Survey as an Environmental
Statement," in Pittsburgh Surveyed, 180.
- Joel A. Tarr,
Search for the Ultimate Sink, 169.
- John F. Bauman
and Margaret Spratt, "Civic Leaders and Environmental Reform," in Pittsburgh
Surveyed, 162-164.
- Bion J. Arnold,
John R. Freeman, and Frederick Law Olmsted, City Planning for Pittsburgh,
(Pittsburgh: The Pittsburgh Civic Commission, 1909), 5.
- Frederick Law
Olmsted, Jr., Main Thoroughfares and the Down Town District, (Pittsburgh:
Pittsburgh Civic Commission Report Number 8 [published by Mount
Pleasant Press, Harrisburg] 1911), 119-120
- Bauman and Spratt,
"Civic Leaders and Environmental Reform," in Pittsburgh Surveyed, 162-164.
- Tarr, Search for
the Ultimate Sink, 85. Tarr, "Infrastructure and City Building," in
City at the Point, 243. Roy Lubove, Twentieth Century Pittsburgh (New
York: John Wiley & Sons, 1969) 53.
- Tarr, Search for
the Ultimate Sink, 86. Lubove, Twentieth Century Pittsburgh, 54. Pittsburgh
Department of City Planning, Report of the Department of City Planning
for the Year Ending January 31, 1913 (Pittsburgh: Department of City
Planning, 1913), 13-18, 25.
- Interview with
Frank Curtick, Heinz family historian, February 26, 1997, The Heinz
Family Office, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
- Pittsburgh Regional
Planning Commission, Prelude to the Future (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh Regional
Planning Commission,1968), 4-6.
- Pittsburgh Regional
Planning Commission, Prelude to the Future, 6.
- Pittsburgh Regional
Planning Commission, Prelude to the Future, 11.
- Citizens Committee
on City Plan, Parks Report, 11-15, 65.
- Citizens Committee
on City Plan, Parks Report, 15, 69-71.
- Lubove, Twentieth
Century Pittsburgh, 94-95.
- Pittsburgh Department
of City Planning, Arguments against the Proposed Zoning Ordinance (Pittsburgh:
Department of City Planning, 1923), 3-4, 20. "Zoning Bill to Govern
Building Operations Here Sent to Council," The Pittsburgh Press, January
22, 1923, 7.
- Pittsburgh Regional
Planning Commission, Prelude to the Future, 246.
- Lubove, Twentieth
Century Pittsburgh, 95.
- Pittsburgh Department
of City Planning, Map of Pittsburgh Zoning (Pittsburgh: Department of
City Planning, 1923), n.p. Interview with Howard Shubel, former Duqusne
Slag Products Company employee, March 18, 1997, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Chester Environmental, Nine Mile Run Phase I Environmental Assessment
Report, Appendix B (Pittsburgh: Chester Environmental, 1995), 1-5. Map
of Nine Mile Run Valley Properties, from the collection of Mr. and Mrs.
Thomas J. Horrocks, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, used by permission of
Mr. Samuel Edelman.
- Cheryl Cvetic
Solomon, Slag -- Iron and Steel (Washington: U.S. Bureau of Mines, 1993),
1-5. Testimony of Duqquesne Slag products Company before the City Council
of Pittsburgh, February 15, 1957, from the collection of Mr. and Mrs.
Thomas J. Horrocks.
- Interview with
Howard Shubel, March 18, 1997.
- Testimony of Duquesne
Slag Products Company before the City Council of Pittsburgh, April 5,
1953, in Pittsburgh City Council Hearing Book, 1953 (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh
City Council, 1953), 291. Testimony of William A. Robison before the
City Council of Pittsburgh, April 3, 1953, in Pittsburgh City Council
Hearing Book, 1953, 295-296. Interview with Howard Shubel, March 18,
1997. Chester Environmental Nine Mile Run Phase I Environmental Assessment
Report, 5.
- Citizens Committee
on City Plan, Parks Report, 69-71.
- Interview with
Swisshelm Park Resident Al Protheroe, April 24, 1997, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Chester Environmental, Nine Mile Run Phase I Environmental Assessment
Report, 5, see also Appendix A, 8-9. \
- see the Articles
of Incorporation, Swisshelm Park Civic Association, 1937, from the collection
of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Horrocks. Correspondence of Richard H. Dick,
Swisshelm Park Board of Trade, to C. L McKenzie, President, Duquesne
Slag Products Company, November 7, 1939, Horrocks collection.
- Decision of the
Board of Zoning Adjustment, January 20, 1947, from the Horrocks collection.
Correspondence of Mrs. Thomas Horrocks to Charles F. Miller, Board of
Zoning Adjustment, January 21, 1947, Horrocks collection. Correspondence
of W. B. Jones, President, Duquesne Slag Products Company to Swisshelm
Park Civic Asssociation, October 17, 1946, Horrocks collection.
- Testimony of Duquesne
Slag Products Company before the City Council of Pittsburgh, May 3,
1950, in Pittsburgh City Council Hearing Book, 1950 (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh
City Council, 1950), 508-509. Testimony of Paul Good before the City
Council of Pittsburgh, May 3, 1950, Pittsburgh City Council Hearing
Book, 1950, 510. Minutes of the Emergency Meeting of the Swisshelm Park
Civic Association, May 28, 1950, from the Horrocks collection.
- Testimony of Duquesne
Slag Products Company before the City Council of Pittsburgh, June 5,
1950, in Pittsburgh City Council Hearing Book, 1950 (Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh
City Council, 1950), 520-521. Testimony of Thomas Horrocks, et. al.,
before the City Council of Pittsburgh, June 5, 1950, in Pittsburgh City
Council Hearing Book, 1950 522.
- Correspondence
of J. Frank McKenna, Pittsburgh Solicitor, to City Council, February
14, 1955, from the collection of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Horrocks. Unpublished
transcript of Pittsburgh City Council Hearings on Nine Mile Run, March
29, 1954, Horrocks collection.
- Correspondence
of Frank J. Gaffney, Esq., to the Swisshelm Park Civic Association,
December 19, 1955 and March 23, 1956, collection of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas
J. Horrocks. Undated notes of Mrs. Thomas J. Horrocks, Horrocks collection.
- Interview with
Nancy Horrocks Thomas, former Swisshelm Park resident, April 17 and
22, 1997, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. See also Testimony of Duquesne Slag
Products Company before the City Council of Pittsburgh, February 15,
1957, from the collection of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Horrocks.
- Tom Barnes, "City
Buying Slag Pile," The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette October 13, 1995, Sec.
B, p. 1. Correspondence of Anthony G. Giorgione, A. C. Ackenheil &
Associates, Inc., to Duquesne Slag Products Company, June 23, 1970,
from the collection of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Horrocks.
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