The Tribune

With Charlie Harper

THE day was gloomy and overcast with heavy grey clouds that conjured a wish for a rain shower to wash away all the dispiritedness and reintroduce bright sunshine on a warm summer day. The road was in good shape and the car held the road well, considering the asphalt was laid out right over the heavily wooded hills and valleys of this part of Middle America. Then a meadow beckoned in the distance. For the four friends in their vehicle, relief was tangible from the tension of navigating this winding road with its narrow shoulders and no guardrails.

A brightly coloured red, white and blue structure caught the eye in the distance. It sat right beside the road. Up closer, the friends saw a well-kept barn with a new metal roof to guard against the build-up of wintertime wet, then freezing, roof-crushing snow. The barn was completely covered on at least the two sides visible from the road with the painted stars and stripes of the American flag.

The barn’s owner had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to proclaim his patriotism. And as the barn passed on the left side of the road, a backward glance revealed a shocking image for the passengers. There, facing in the other direction, stood a ten-foot-high cutout of former US President Donald Trump. A huge banner proclaimed “Trump 2024 – America Will Be Great Again!”

In a fleeting moment, from a car speeding past an isolated hamlet in these remote hills, a stark reminder of America’s continuing troubles stood out, jarring the travellers out of their bucolic complacency.

What did this stunning scene mean? Was it merely the zealous extravagance of a single devoted individual? Or a portent of ominous things still to come? A vigorous discussion broke out among the passengers, two couples driving from one distant point on a construction-imposed detour through unfamiliar territory to a similarly distant destination.

“Wow, what an image,” said Louise, the elder of the two women in the vehicle, shuddering at memory of the giant Trump figure. “Did we not see an actual yard sign in the last town that read ‘Biden/Harris?’ And what about back in Latrobe, near that steel mill? Remember that awning that the homeowner had painted with ‘Trump 2020 – for Prison!’ I thought we were moving out of this personality cult that the country seemed mired in for so long.”

Louise’s husband Fred stirred. “Maybe. Maybe not. I wonder if people like the owner of that barn actually ever respond to the telephone calls, emails or flyers of the pollsters. I’m guessing they don’t. So we won’t really know until the election how public opinion is running on Trump and Biden and all the rest.”

His friend Herb, now taking a turn at the wheel, disagreed. “I think that barn tells us exactly where we still are. People who live out here don’t feel any connection beyond perhaps their local congressman to what is happening in Washington. The federal government, even many state and local governments, are just a vaguely misguided force for isolated people like these. And liberals like you guys don’t get out of the big city often enough to understand the frustration and helplessness people feel when they pay taxes whose benefits they cannot see or feel. Donald Trump spoke to that, brilliantly.”

Juliet, his younger wife, reminded the others that she had grown up in Tennessee when that state was run by the Democratic Party. “The Democrats then were no different than the Republicans are now. They’re all just politicians, and they’re trying to lead from behind like politicians always do, following what their polls and focus groups and advisers and groupies tell them people want to hear.

“There’s no real leadership in either party, and politics is such a grimy, dirty, corrupt business that it’s a wonder we ever get a senator, congressman, or president for that matter, who gives us any sense of pride or inspiration.”

Fred spoke again. “We’ve had a nice trip so far. Let’s not talk about politics any more. What did you all think of Latrobe?”

The friends had been marooned in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, for several hours due to car trouble earlier in the day. The repair shop had loaned them a car to use while they waited for spare parts to arrive from the Pittsburgh suburbs 40 miles to the west.

With a population today of less than 8,000, Latrobe was home to both golfing legend Arnold Palmer and beloved TV star Fred Rogers, host for 32 years of the popular children’s show “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” These two American giants graduated from Latrobe High School one year apart just after World War II. Louise had wondered if they had been friends or even acquaintances in school, but the Chamber of Commerce office was closed on this day and the couples had encountered only half a dozen locals as they killed time looking around town while car repairs continued.

They parked the loaner car downtown, drawn to the painted, stone sculpture across the street. Juliet spotted it first. “Is that actually a statue of a banana split?” she asked incredulously. It was, and the three scoops of ice cream in the boat-shaped stone dish were painted white, brown and pink to replicate the flavors of this quintessential American dessert. A sign proclaimed that a local druggist had concocted the first-ever banana split in Latrobe in 1904.

Down the main street, near the old Pennsylvania Railroad passenger depot, freight trains rumbled by regularly. Twin engines pulled around 40 flat cars behind them, each one laden with either a shipping container box or the loaded truck trailer. But passengers can still board an Amtrak train in Latrobe daily at 8:20 a.m. and travel directly, with many stops, to New York City.

Further along, past the rail station, they found the City Brewery. Herb, a self-proclaimed beer connoisseur, expected to see Rolling Rock signs adorning the massive facility, which occupies almost two square blocks along the banks of the local river. He was disappointed.

First opened at the end of the 19th Century in much more prosperous times, the brewery grew until 1939, when Rolling Rock beer became its signature product. Famous for Rolling Rock’s small green bottles and its dedicated following among beer lovers, City Brewery became one of the largest facilities of its kind in the United States. But the brewery was purchased by Canada’s Labatt Brewing Company in 1987, and various conglomerates have come and gone since then. In 2006 the Rolling Rock brands were sold to the largest brewer in the United States, Anheuser- Busch. Production of Rolling Rock was moved to a facility in Newark, New Jersey. The brewery has stayed open since then, producing brands at times such as Sam Adams, Red Stripe, Guinness Blonde and Pittsburgh’s own Iron City. But its foothold has been tenuous since Rolling Rock moved east.

A specialty steel producer and steel melting fabricator both operate large plants in town, carefully watched from a small trailer occupied by Local 1537 of the United Steel Workers. The union office is open three days a week. Row after row of pinched, vinyl or wood-sided houses line the streets near the mills, their small, well-maintained yards and proud American flag displays a testimonial to the stubborn conservative pride of the residents.

And on this muggy summer day, the return of the Steelers was only a week away. Starting in 1966, Pittsburgh’s legendary NFL team has returned to Latrobe in every non- COVID year since then for its month-long summer training camp at St. Vincent’s College on a hill outside Latrobe. The college is a venerable Catholic school whose campus offers a pastoral contrast to Pittsburgh’s big city distractions. Behind the back of the austere Romanesque brick basilica that was home to the founder of the Benedictine Order in the US lie several modern Astroturf football fields and many snazzy tents for VIP guests at the Steelers’ practices. Training camp and its many visitors are big business for Latrobe and the school.

Football, beer, banana splits, the Catholic Church, the railroad and steel mills. That’s been Latrobe for decades. If one of America’s political parties can figure out how to reach these voters, success at the ballot box will surely follow.