If you Ask Me / By Martha Knight

Looking at the Zito9 crawl and Solomon’s Words announcements of upcoming events, and noticing that there are several ham and leek dinners scheduled for May 10, and reflecting that this will coincide with the second performance of “Hats Off to Broadway,” I had this thought—

What if some of the Potter-McKean Players and band members decide it will save time if they eat out before the performance, and grab a quick ham and leek dinner before heading for the Consistory; and what if a lot of fans decide to do the same?

Just imagine the air quality in the Consistory, during that performance! The air will be more sulfurous than the vapors at the gates of hell.

What can be done? Well, it might be safer to attend the Friday night performance. But some people can’t manage that one, and this show is really too good to miss.

How about if the Players have a little booth near the door, where they offer some leek dip on a cracker for, say, $1? We know the best defense is offense, when it comes to leek effluvium

There should be some leeks available in the dressing rooms too, so that cast members who had not partaken could fortify themselves. Can’t have quartet members keeling over, victims of really close harmony. Think how leek breath might be amplified by the brass instruments, and fellow musicians might be overcome?

Short of dispensing leeks or leek dip at the Consistory, another possible precaution might be to wear a garlic clove on a lanyard, around one’s neck, or carrying garlic in a pocket, where it can be nibbled discreetly in case one finds oneself surrounded by leak eaters. If garlic keeps vampires at bay, why not friends, fellow cast or audience members who have availed themselves of the spring tonic, allium tricoccum?

•    •    •

Who would have thought it? Who could have foretold how much “Pitt-Corning” would come to mean to Port Allegany? What would L.O. Griffith Sr. have thought of the current situation described in the news release sent forth by the mavens at the PR firm, or on the company’s websites?

Certainly not Chick Miller, whose cow pasture (or was it a corn field, or an oat field?) became the site of the newborn company’s first manufacturing plant, in the mid-late-1930s.

Chick chatted them up as he tended to their cars at his “filling station.” He had become acquainted with them a little, these men who passed through the area regularly and gassed up here as they journeyed between Corning and Pittsburgh, frequently, holding meetings in one city or the other because high level execs of both companies were incubating this grand plan.

Two glass industry giants were going to create a new corporation, one they would own jointly. Its first name would be Pittsburgh, for Pittsburgh Plate Glass, and its last name would be Corning, for Corning Glass Works.

The new company would set up shop somewhere between Pittsburgh and Corning, and would produce glass products. Corning Glass did need more capacity for making Pyrex dishware. And a new product would be glass blocks, a new building material destined to become popular with architects.

What better location than Port Allegany? We had gas, sandstone, limestone, rails, highways and a workforce. Farmers just coming out of the Great Depression could work part time at the plant, just as they had worked part time on the railroad or timbering or in other plants. Labor was available.

Chick spread the word to the “town fathers,” the movers and shakers, and they put together a proposal and acquired the site from Chick (who probably wasn’t doing much dairy farming at the time). And that’s why Pittsburgh Corporation was born here, and offered it to the new company practically as a gift.

My dad was one of the initial workers employed after Plant I opened. I remember the shifts, and how the rhythm of our household was governed by them, as were the times when the “chores” (milking, farm work) got done.

Employees brought home useful items from the discards, and I have some of those. They included dessert dishes and custard cups made of Pyrex, and casseroles and little skillets with detachable Lucite handles, and platters and lids. There were no fancy colors or shapes; these items were practical and utilitarian. Their great feature was that they were heat resistant. They could be used in the oven, and even on burners so long as there was a protective asbestos mat under them.

The items the employees brought home had what stained glass folks call “glorious imperfections,” but quality control folks at PC called defects: little bubbles. Or the rim wasn’t just right.

There was unintentional color, a hint of grey, blue, green or yellow, from the oxides in the sand. My old Pyrex has hints of color.

Then came glass blocks, and the employees collected culls of those by the thousands, for many uses in homes, garage and barns. Top quality blocks were also used in stores, restaurants and offices. The company donated hundreds of them for use in building our area schools and Port Allegany Community Hospital.

World War II forced a shift to war effort, which centered around an insulation and flotation material known as foam glass. After the war, another insulation material was added to the line because of the building boom: Unibestos. PC donated foam glass and Unibestos to local schools and churches too.

The company ramped up the glass block production, built more facilities here and in Sedalia, Mo. and in California, bought a plant in Tyler, Tx., then overseas. No top execs or engineers were based in Port anymore. The “asbestos fallout” eventually brought the company much grief, and into Chapter 11 from 2000 on—it is just now emerging.

But the recent press releases described an almost completely different company from the Pitt-Corning we remember. Most of the activity is elsewhere; insulation is more important than blocks; Port’s little PC workforce make some but not all of the blocks in this country. Chick Miller’s home and filling station sites are greenspace.

Peace.