by Linda Caye Murphy

Created on: June 25, 2009

Life in the City, 50s Style

My childhood years were spent in a small, mostly blue-collar neighborhood in Pittsburgh, Pa. Only six streets made up this compact area which everyone called "the hill." There was one road to enter and exit the hill which made it seem like our own private world.

The neighborhood was child heaven! Unlike today, parents did not have to organize "play dates" to make sure their children had the opportunity to interact with other kids their age. On any summer morning, you simply opened the door and went outside. Within minutes you could be playing in a pick-up game of softball or baseball, shooting basketballs at the hoop on a telephone pole in the front street or running around the neighborhood with a dozen kids playing "release" or hide-and-seek.

Holidays on the hill were wonderful. On Memorial Day and the 4th of July, we would decorate our bicycles with red, white and blue crepe paper streamers for an all-day neighborhood party. Every house proudly displayed an American flag as the smell of charcoal and hot dogs filled the air.

Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving were joyful family celebrations. And Halloween was a particularly special treat. We would plan our homemade costumes for weeks until the big night when herds of ghosts and goblins would roam the streets visiting every house. We usually made several stops at home to empty our stuffed bags before heading back out into the night. And no one dreamed of taking the candy to be X-rayed before taking a bite.

The neighborhood families were mostly second generation Americans with roots in Ireland, Scotland, Poland, Germany, Italy or Russia. Most of the mothers stayed home and raised the children while the fathers went to work in steel mills and factories. Some were fireman and policemen. A few were teachers and nurses. There was one insurance man and a veterinarian who, I recall, gladly made house calls on sick neighborhood dogs and cats, free of charge.

I never had a key to my house as no one ever locked a door during the day. We children played freely in each other's yards and homes with no concern about ruining the grass or tracking dirt inside. You were always welcome to have lunch or dinner at a friend's home as setting another plate at the table was never an issue. And yes, families actually sat down at the kitchen table and ate dinner together. Every night! After dinner, the kids would go back outside to play again until the streetlights came on - the universal neighborhood signal that it was time to go home.

Houses were small on the hill and very close together; some were connected in rows of three. Most houses were built of wood and many had an exterior covered with something called "insulbrick siding." There were few garages so families fortunate enough to have a car parked it on the street and saved their parking space by placing a folding chair in front of their house. And amazingly, everyone respected the neighborhood "parking chair."

Most hill families lived from paycheck to paycheck. The only savings account we had was my father's Christmas Club account at the shop credit union where he saved $2.00 a week. With nothing but that $100 windfall at year's end, he and my mother could fill the living room with an incredible array of toys and gifts for everyone.

By most measures, this neighborhood would be considered poor. But to this day, my brother and I recall these years with warm, happy memories. In terms of the things that matter most - family, friends, community and love - we were millionaires.

Learn more about this author, Linda Caye Murphy.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.