Lawrenceville's Patriotic Pride

This article is written by Lance Leonard. It first appeared on this website in November 2005.

It could be said that Lawrenceville is more patriotic than other communities, because it follows through in protecting its sculptural heritage. Patriotic sculpture reminds the community of the sacrifices made by its residents to protect their freedoms. To permit that sculpture to be destroyed by the elements or other controllable circumstances is to insult the soldiers who have built our nation.

Lawrenceville, like the rest of Pittsburgh, served our nation in times of need. During the Revolutionary War, Allegheny County had a population of probably less than 10,000. Pittsburgh itself had only a population of probably less than 370, but at least approximately six hundred and fifty Allegheny County citizens enlisted in the Revolutionary War. The “Pittsburgh Blues” fought in both the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. The Duquesne Grays also fought in the Mexican War. Both Pittsburgh militia groups stormed Vera Cruz. At least 25,930 citizens of Allegheny County participated in the Civil War. Allegheny County’s 14^th Regiment enlisted 1,011 soldiers – mostly from Allegheny County as citizens entered Allegheny County from surrounding areas to enlist in the Spanish-American War. World War One saw even greater participation. ¹

In 1918, General Pershing, with an odd, humorous expression, appeared in various newspapers wearing a “tin derby.” It was a lighthearted ad with a serious message. “The latest style in men’s hats has just arrived from Paris,” the article read, “….‘Very comfortable,’ says Pershing, while he advises every man to get into one as soon as possible.” Pittsburghers did indeed heed the call. Approximately 60,000 Allegheny County men served during World War One, 1,527 died. ²

Following the war, memorial sculpture was erected throughout Pittsburgh. Lawrenceville possesses the greatest First World War sculpture in Pittsburgh, arguably in the entire nation. That sculpture is, of course, “the Doughboy.” But Lawrenceville is also lucky enough to have two World War sculptures, while other communities of similar size may posses only one. The second sculpture is the Goddess Victory.

A look at Memorial Day of 1921 shows a busy city dedicated to honoring all of its veterans, especially the great many who fought in World War I, the “War to End All Wars.” Downtown Pittsburghers took their hats from their heads to show their respect. This parade finished with ceremonies at Allegheny Cemetery.

Elsewhere that day, eight thousand gathered in Stowe Township to parade before the dedication of a bronze tablet. A memorial ceremony of 15,000 gathered in Homewood cemetery. McKeesport showed its patriotism with a parade of 5,000 and ceremonies in three cemeteries. Two thousand marched in a parade before the unveiling of a World War I monument in Mt. Oliver. The ceremonies at the Hampton Battery Monument on the North Side only attracted one thousand while just eight hundred participated in Braddock’s activities. Also, Glassport had its first Memorial Day celebration that year. Sewickley residents watched a caisson piled with countless poppies pass by in their parade – “In Flanders’ fields the poppies grow/Between the crosses, row on row…We shall not sleep though poppies grow/In Flanders’ fields.” The size of the turnout at other activities that day, including the Sewickley parade, were not even mentioned in The Pittsburgh Press so they were probably very small. But the greatest draw that day was a whopping twenty thousand citizens who gathered to see the unveiling of “the Doughboy” statue in Lawrenceville. ³

Perhaps the most recognizable, and arguably the most striking patriotic Pittsburgh sculpture is Lawrenceville’s “Doughboy.” Torn but triumphant, Doughboy looks down from his seven-foot pedestal upon the fork in the road at Penn Avenue and Butler Streets. He is the armed, eight and a half foot sentinel, silent, but having been witness to all the changes in Lawrenceville since 1921. ⁴

Lawrenceville’s Arsenal Board of Trade had raised funds through a community carnival, but the war ended without the money having been distributed. More money was later raised and New York sculptor Allen Newman was chosen. Many were against the destruction of the comfortable bus stop and rest area, but 20,000 felt otherwise. During its dedication, a 21-gun salute was fired from the Allegheny Arsenal grounds. ⁵

Doughboy’s grandeur stems not only from his tough pose or tragic, torn clothes, but the realism of the sculpture itself. His equipment and clothes are true to life. Barbed wire, intended to herd soldiers like cattle, could have easily shredded his shirt, not to mention his sagging left puttee. Sagging puttees were common to every soldier who had to wear them. Puttees were strips of wool that wrapped around the soldier’s calves. Any American soldier of that era could have faced the experience of looking down at his foot to see a spaghetti-like ball of khaki-green wool.

Doughboy’s rifle, bayonet, gas mask and ammunition belt are cared for in great detail by the sculptor Allen Newman. Lawrenceville’s Doughboy is not a message, it is not a story, it is not an inspirational, patriotic fairy tale – Doughboy is the man who fought in France, Belleau Wood, the Argonne, and Chateau –Thierry. He is the man who stopped the Kaiser. Now, he stands before the viewer with torn clothes and a rifle.

This soldier faced chemical warfare. Chemical weapons - like the machinegun, the tank, long-range multiple shot rifles, high-explosive long-range artillery and the airplane - were relatively new technological weapons unleashed upon World War One soldiers. The science of death had exploded beyond the comprehension of the commanders. Senseless massacres were repeatedly ordered by generals unable to grasp the killing power of the latest weaponry. Doughboy was thrust into this ordeal.

Chemical warfare was the most horrific technology. A man without a mask could drown even though on dry land. Lungs, skins, and eyes could be burnt by an invisible, almost scentless specter drifting through the air. The mask was the only protection a soldier had. Doughboy’s gas mask bag is not slung low along his hip, but is “at-the-ready,” right below his face. The tube, which goes between the mask and the box-shaped filter is usually tucked inside the bag. But Doughboy’s tube is protruding from the bag. This mask had seen recent use. This type of gas mask, termed the small box respirator, came from the British. While attached to the face, the mask made it hard to breathe and sometimes hard to see out of if the glass discs fogged up. The mask left the wearer resembling a pig with its breathing snout-like mechanism and wide, glassy eyes. On the battlefield during a gas attack, men like Doughboy, with rubber pig-like faces stormed through the smoke across no-man’s-land to face lethal technology misunderstood by it creators in an inescapable science fiction nightmare.

Doughboy faced poor meals. Evidence of this can be seen in the fact that his belt is too big. His belt held one hundred rounds of thirty-caliber rifle ammunition, which, along with the added weight of the water in his canteen, would have grown very heavy over long and exhausting marches.

He always had to be on the alert. His 17-inch bayonet is fixed to his rifle, ready for hand-to-hand combat. The Germans might surprise him with a trench raiding party, a sniper might catch him if he put his head too high above a trench, or a “whizz bang” (artillery shell) might land and explode before he could take cover.

But none of these dangers of European warfare could kill his spirit. That is visible in his nonchalant stance. Doughboy slouches to the side and so does his helmet.

Now, back home, he is in the viewer’s face to remind him or her that he made his contribution to America’s freedom. He may be home again, but as long as his fellow soldiers lie in French graves, he will stand firm before Pittsburgh lest we forget. ⁶

And over the years, regarding Pittsburgh’s patriotic sculpture, many have forgotten. Pittsburgh has always been patriotic, but while the patriotism remains, the sculpture tends to be forgotten about. In fact, for Pittsburgh in general, the sculpture has not necessarily been the focal point of the patriotism in the first place. The Post-Gazette reported that “the feature which attracted the crowd” on the day that George Washington’s North Side sculpture was revealed in 1891, was the parade. When the finishing plaques were placed on North Side’s Maine memorial (Spanish-American War) a year after the dedication in 1914, there was no ceremony or parade. Other communities tend to forget about their sculpture after the parades have marched by. City Councilman Robert Garland learned the lack of value placed on sculpture when he had hoped to have more sculptures placed on the Boulevard of the Allies; but the parade had since passed, the celebrations were over, and so his hopes could never be realized. Had the city not forgotten about it soldiers from the First World War, the boulevard might today have sculptures portraying soldiers of various branches of service and an army or Red Cross nurse. In 1929, the North Side’s 1871 Soldier’s Monument honoring the Civil War was removed for an athletic field. Complaints, not from the general public, but from specific groups were successful in saving the memorial. The monument was publicly displayed again two years later. Unfortunately for sculpture, the monument was changed to better suite the less ornate artistic preferences of the Depression era. When Doughboy needed refurbished however, every effort was made to see to it that its original grandeur was restored. ⁷

Lawrenceville never forgot its patriotic sculpture. In 1977, the Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation received a grant of $39,000 to repair and adapt “Doughboy Square” for modern appreciation and comfortable citizen use. They were tired of the litter and dull appearance of the spot. In the 1980s, the Lawrenceville Citizens Council had to take action again. Money was raised through bake sales, fairs, and flea markets, along with a frank meeting with Mayor Caligiuri and his men. The Mayor got them the remaining money needed to refurbish Doughboy. The company that did the work was Donatelli Monuments, the manager estimated that the sculpture was worth $50,000. Certainly if the question is posed it is right to give an answer, but if 50,000 was divided by the number of men from the Sixth Ward who served in World War I, could it in any way compensate for their efforts? Or purchase the freedom they paid for? If Doughboy was animated, would he simply accept this as his self-worth, take the money, and walk off into the sunset to forget about his brothers in French graves? It is quite a shame that aesthetic patriotism comes down to dollars and cents, but fortunately there are those who make the effort to pay the cost. Except for a minor group of the intellectually deficient (who shouted World War I-related racial epithets), Lawrenceville appreciated the effort, and, unlike later changes to other monuments, a celebration and parade marked the occasion of a cleaned-up Doughboy.

The Lawrenceville Historical Society came to the rescue of a World War I memorial to the Ninth Ward, a memorial portraying the Goddess Victory with a shield and a palm branch. She was not alone in her original location. There was also a cannon, said to be a gift of France. Over the years, the elements took their toll. The rusty cannon was taken away for scrap during World War II. Forty some years later, the city finally took a concern in the statue and removed it for cleaning. However, they just left it in a warehouse somewhere, and forgot about it. Having heard the rumor that she was to be sold, the LHS took action, and the statue came back to its home. ⁸

Other communities have individuals who will work to save their local sculptures, but in Lawrenceville, it is a community effort. Should the elements attack Lawrenceville’s sculpture again over the years, rest assured, the community will come to the rescue.