old light heavyweight champion, to Horse Czarnecki, the groundskeeper at Pitt, and Jack Warner, of Warner Brothers. But all a student of Pittsburgh human interest needed was Art's brother Uncle Jim Rooney, who had known many wonderful Pittsburghers.

"She was as fine a lady as I ever knew," Jim recalled one day in the lobby, referring to a local barkeep. "And she ran a tough joint, and nobody ever got out of line. Big, fine woman. Johnny Brown of New Orleens played piano in her place. He was a wonderful man. Sold his body for $120. To the University of Pennsylvania Medical School. All in ones. Came into the place countin' em out. Johnny Brown of New Orleens. Weighed 120 pounds. Dollar a pound. They brought in one ofthose pianos that play themselves. It put Johnny out of work. He didn't have nothing to do. He got a rock and came in and put it through the piano. Johnny Brown of New Orleens."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

Uncle Jim spread his arms and looked upward. "The University of Pennsylvania Medical School."

Maybe that's where I should be. Eddie Haskell? Where do I get off saying that? Did Eddie Haskell ever catch a pass over the middle? Did he ever have a big bushy beard?

Maybe I come off as Ward Cleaver. Or Ward's dad. In the 1943 English movie The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Clive Wynne-Candy is a fat old blowhard, a veteran of World War I who has been relegated during World War II to