Mr Schwartz

Mr Schwartz lived in the first row of houses on Denniston Ave in the 1950’s. He and his wife had emigrated from Lithuania in the 30’s and had proudly called themselves  American citizens for at least two decades. Mr and Mrs Schwartz never had their porch lights on during Halloween (in the 50’s there was a simple rule no porch light no asking for trick or treats). They only shoveled the snow in front of the five feet they claimed was their property and not one inch more. They  called the police (usually my dad) if neighborhood kids were playing outside (another proud 50’s tradition) after 9 pm. especially when they ran past the Schwartz house to which was located next to the alley way leading to all of the backyards. When it came time for my Dad a Pittsburgh police man to hand out flags for the Fourth of July Mr Schwartz would interrogate my father as to who he thought was not really American enough and who should not be rewarded with a flag. Our neighborhood on Denniston in the 50’s had more kids per square block, more block parties then humanly possible and more families who usually got along and liked one another. But then there were the Schwartz’s

One side of Denniston, where the row houses were situated,(they were row houses then not town homes, not condo’s) had a constant group of families who lived on the street for long durations. Across the street were huge three story homes that at one time would have competed with the mansions of the rich and famous. Built originally for one family unit, these  homes eventually grew as old as their original inhabitants, but unlike the their landlords did not die when they aged. During the 50’s these great homes became rental properties. Sons and daughters of the deceased took over their ownership but for the most part were handled by absentee landlords. Three floors of housing created three different apartment spaces in one building and at times even those spaces were subdivided to include more renters. Having had no idea as a kid the cost of rent all we knew was that those homes were in constant flux so we assumed they were haunted. (Good ghost stories were the crux of Saturday night lure right before Chiller Theater double feature appeared on television).

I remember hearing the word refugee sometime in the early 1950’s. It was a word that always was stated with hard breath a sigh and the phrase, I hope they are not like other refugees many would say as the next batch of renters moved in across the street. It was, however Mr Schwartz who not only intimated that refugees were the bane of American society, he would approach any new family to the neighborhood and ask them if they spoke English, had a job and knew that you never ever hung your laundry out the window to dry. Some neighbors had had enough of this crazy man’s rumination and I remember vividly approached Mr Schwartz to stop his one man lynching party. When asked why Mr Schwartz was so anti refugees or so self appointed Uncle Sam his reply was the following: They are not like me. I am clean they are not. I worked a job the minute I arrived in this land. I gave up any old traditions or superstitions of my other land. They don’t want to become good citizens. Asked how he knew this, Mr Schwartz referred to a newspaper he subscribed to and a very remote AM radio station filled with tales from people claiming to be descendants of the Mayflower.  Mr Schwartz was right and no one would tell him differently. At the end of this conversation and mot others until he died of a heart attack Mr Schwartz would clamor I have the facts correct and you don’t.

I think of Mr Schwartz often these days whoever I hear people like Marco Rubio deny climate change is man made. Rush Limbaugh insisting that rape is the fault of women. Mike Huckabee pontificating that Jesus wrote the Constitution. Ted Cruz demanding that health care for all is a Communist plot. I worry when facts no longer have substance but instead innuendo, inference and unintelligence are the indicator of truth.  I am frustrated because debate, conversation can only work when both the giver and the receiver understand that finding a common ground is the answer to any and all problems. Mr Schwartz was an angry insecure man afraid that his own accomplishments would be minimized by others.  Mr Schwartz was only a small cog in a very large community. Sadly the Rubio’s/Limbaugh’s/Huckabee’s/Cruz’s loom larger and scarier; as do the minion of morons who fear life itself.