82 Lincoln

Hey, if you’re ever in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, take a ride on the 82 Lincoln. You say, what’s the 82 Lincoln? It’s a bus line. Every city has one. Harlem has the A Train, Detroit has the X-Press. Yeah, well, we had the 82 Lincoln. A long ride from way out in the suburbs to downtown Pittsburgh. When I was real little, my mother wouldn’t allow me to ride it by myself. I can remember sitting in that seat with my sister or my mother, watching the sights go by. Yeah, the 82 went through some beautiful parts of Pittsburgh. Then it got to The Hill. Yeah, the Hill. That was the black section of Pittsburgh. I used to pray to God that the 82 Lincoln wouldn’t break down on The Hill. Little did I know at that time that my Grandfather used to live on The Hill and he worked three jobs to get out.

The part of Pittsburgh that I lived in always seemed so safe. The first time I ever saw a prostitute on The Hill was from the window of the 82 Lincoln. I asked my sister, “How comes those ladies are standing by the corner all dressed up with all that make-up on?” She said, “They’re going to church.” I didn’t know. Back then I thought the only time black folks put on nice clothes was to go to church. So I guess I believed her.

As I would get older, I wondered more and more about The Hill. Every now and then I would get off the 82 Lincoln and just stand on Center Avenue, scared to death. I felt that any minute someone would put a knife or gun to my head and demand money. But nobody bothered me. As a matter of fact, I liked the people. They weren’t any different from the people in my part of town. I started going over on The Hill more and more. Pretty soon I met people and people knew me.

You could hear some of the best jazz in the world on The Hill. There was a club called the Crawford Grill. And if you were there on the right night you could hear anybody from Art Blakey to Stanley Turrentine to George Benson to Billy Eckstine - all people who grew up right there on The Hill.

And then down the street there was another club called the Aurora. At the time I didn’t know it was a female impersonator’s club. I didn’t even know what a female impersonator was. All I can remember is how ugly those women were. (Pause.) I never went back to the Aurora after that.

After having a night of fun on The Hill, I would get back on the 82 Lincoln to go home, sit back in the in the back of the bus over the engine where it was warm, close my eyes and go to sleep. Sometimes I would miss my stop and make the whole trip twice. (Pause.) You know, I think they changed the name of the 82 Lincoln. But it still goes through The Hill.