Points in Pittsburgh
Andrew Carnegie and his hidden Carnegie Museum statue
Stories can come from indulging curiosity. For example, my most recent article for a Pittsburgh publication was born during a visit to the library. The visit’s purpose was a writing assignment and the goal was to conduct research. The place was a Carnegie library on Forbes Avenue near the University of Pittsburgh by the Cathedral of Learning. I’d been there before. This time, I also scheduled time to visit the adjacent Carnegie Museum of Art. I’ll write more about that later.
After finishing work at the library, I visited the art museum. I was in awe as I entered. As always—at least as usual—I gravitated toward forbidden areas. I pulled knobs on locked doors, wandered into restricted areas and came upon what looked like an opulent entrance hall. I had read that a certain statue was located in the art museum. I found myself searching for a statue of the institution’s namesake.
I approached the main welcome or reception desk, inquiring about an Andrew Carnegie statue. Two people at the front desk shrugged. A security guard said she’d heard there was a statue somewhere in the building. The other two became demonstrably curious. They started searching online. At this point, other Carnegie Museum employees meandered over to see what the fuss was about. They were all kind of shocked—I admit to fueling the shock—that, first of all, no one knew whether there was a statue of the man who created the institution they work for and that, secondly, no one knew whether anyone knew whether there was a statue in the building. Thirdly, they expressed concern that this might not be the art museum’s finest moment. I did not disclose that I’m a journalist.
Finally, someone suggested that the security guard communicate on a two-way radio for assistance. An official was dispatched and, soon, a woman in slightly more tapered clothing approached with a blank facial expression, confirming a Carnegie statue on the premises. When I inquired about access, she promptly and curtly explained that access is restricted, forbidden to the public, stating that access to the sculpture’s exclusively reserved for those paying to host an event where the statue is stored. I replied that this policy breaches the founder’s expressly stated condition of donating a museum and library to Pittsburgh; that, among other terms, the arts spaces be open to all of the people in the city Andrew Carnegie loved.
Months later, only after gaining an assignment and coming out to the art museum as a journalist, I was granted access to see the sculpture during a tour. After the access denial, I had been thinking about Andrew Carnegie’s legacy in Pittsburgh, contemplating Carnegie’s reputation in the Western Pennsylvania three-rivers city of bridges, iron and steel. I wondered whether there were other statues in Pittsburgh, Western Pennsylvania and around the world. Accordingly, I pitched an article idea to my Pittsburgh editors. Finally, I was assigned to write an article to investigate Carnegie, any likenesses and his Pittsburgh history. You can read the article here.
I’ve included my pictures with this article. Frankly, I think it’s sad, unfortunate and unjust that the only Carnegie statue in Pittsburgh is hidden. One of the unjust charges against Andrew Carnegie is that he subverted people to profit, an assertion which is false. In fact, institutions inheriting Carnegie’s wealth strike me as guiltier of dishonestly exploiting people for profit. Regardless of its artistic merit, the sculpture, which at best is plain (and, at worst, fails to depict this great American industrialist), Carnegie, his life and legacy deserve to be honored on the grandest scale. The sculpture by John Massey Rhind is a defining point in Pittsburgh. It’s a dark, not a proud, point. It proves that Andrew Carnegie, who held Pittsburgh and her people in the highest esteem, was deprived (or defrauded) of his part of a noble, charitable trade.
Read “Where is Pittsburgh’s Only Statue of Andrew Carnegie?” by Scott Holleran
Points in Pittsburgh
Prohibition, Ayn Rand and Roberto Clemente
What a great story. This story shows by example how history is lost by default and by neglect.