Everyone said that great treasures would inevitably appear. When we were in the process of buying an old house, friends told stories of finding wavy glass apothecary bottles lost behind walls, secret messages under wallpaper, amateur paintings behind basement pegboard, pornography stowed and forgotten in loosened ceiling tiles.
A house built in the 1880s should have had ample time to accrue all this and more, but fifteen years later, the sum total this home-renovating blogger unearthed was one skeleton key and a set of Pittsburgh Press pages from the 1950s, laid below the linoleum on the third floor as, it seems, everybody used to do. I kept those papers for half-dozen years and then sent them out with the recycling one day. Sigh.The news that the former Poli restaurant and its neighbor building had burned was big local news–and not without its share of suspicion and intrigue. The whole block at the corner of Murray and Forward (including the former Squirrel Hill Theater) had basically been shuttered and was slated for a massive redevelopment project that seems to have been postponed.
Whatever the reason, this sad event has a curious and surprising double twist for the ghost hunters of Pittsburgh Orbit. Now exposed, behind Poli’s former rear wall, we can see both a very clear building outline against the dense retaining wall behind (this seems to be the ghost of an addition to the original Poli) and a ghost sign that must have predated that section of the structure.
The building outline is nothing special–a straight rectangular box with one angled extension that looks like a slanted entrance to cellar stairs. The sign, on the other hand, begged for some looking into.
The paint is almost completely worn away at this point. But with a little imagination and a little investigation, it turns out the sign was a large-form rendition of Amoco’s corporate identity and its Permalube Service used in the 1930s and ’40s. The tag line Approved Lubrication is the most recognizable part of what remains. Knowing the original building dates to 1921, it’s probably safe to assume this painted advertisement was added before Poli’s misguided facelift and expansion onto the right/south side of the old building.Poli would probably have made a great Orbit obit, but we just weren’t the right people to do it. [anyone? anyone?] The restaurant had existed at the same Murray Ave. location since 1921 and this blogger had at least fifteen years of ample opportunity to give it a try. What can I say? I was busy that night! No: it just didn’t happen.
I’m glad I made it to The Suburban Lounge and Moré and Chiodo’s Tavern before each of those storied haunts ended their respective run, but I’m afraid Poli is one that got away. Let it serve as a lesson that these places that seem like they’ll exist forever will not. [Note to self: get to Minutello’s ASAP!]
All that remains now is a re-seeded empty lot, an incongruous out-of-work smokestack, the nested pair of ghosts, and, across Murray Ave. from the site, the (literal) sign of Poli’s mid-life crisis. This c. 1970s triangular sign sits high up on its tall pedestal and shares a pie-shaped section of the five-points corner with a sidewalk no one will ever use, a parking lot with no apparent sponsor, and a set of out-of-place fruiting apple trees. In generally healthy, pedestrian-friendly Squirrel Hill, this is one dead space.
What will become of the sign? Who owns it now? It would be great if it could gradually morph into a legitimate “Thomasson” or be repurposed into a Welcome to Squirrel Hill beacon–its placement right at one entrance to the neighborhood would be perfect for that. Or, maybe, it will just become another ghost.
8 thoughts on “Poli-Science: A Double Ghost Exposed in Squirrel Hill!”
I lived down there (in the brown apartment building visible in the smokestack photo) for ten years or so. The story about Poli’s that was endlessly retold was that the County Health Department held an end of the year banquet there, and a rat fell out of an air duct as the Department Head was delivering a speech. I can only imagine how that story developed over the decades out of nothing.
Yeah, that sounds pretty apocryphal. It may well have been disgusting (most 90-year-old food institutions are!), but that’s a stretch. I lived in an old house that had been divided into apartments. We were on the second (top) floor and there were squirrels living in the attic, scurrying around and scratching and gnawing at things. One day we had people over, were sitting around in the living room, and out of a small hole in the ceiling, an acorn fell on one of our guests. Now, that happened. But a rat falling on a Health Dept. banquet? I don’t know…
What was the smokestack a part of ?? Will it remain ?
Good question! I went back to a platte map from 1939 (http://images.library.pitt.edu/cgi-bin/i/image/image-idx?view=entry;cc=maps;entryid=x-39v02p23), but it doesn’t give any indication of what the building that smokestack is attached to was at the time.
I have no idea about its fate, but the evidence suggests that the smokestack is part of the property behind the vacant lot so I’m guessing it will be around for a while.
Let us know if you find something out!