If only Pittsburgh had a functioning historic preservation law and a more sophisticated historic preservation advocacy community. A few weeks ago I was in the city’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood to plan for my upcoming Squirrel Hill by the Numbers walking tour dates and I noticed that the facade of 1926 Murray Avenue was missing. It had been there last winter.
I had first encountered the block where the building is located in 2019. I had begun doing interviews for my research into the social history of numbers gambling in Pittsburgh. The Beacon Club, one of Pittsburgh’s most iconic and infamous twentieth century gambling clubs, had been located next door at 1928 1/2 Murray Avenue. Many of the people I interviewed early on and later described the club’s significant roles in Pittsburgh’s underworld history, Jewish history, and Black history.
The Beacon Club’s omission from Pittsburgh historic preservation and State Historic Preservation Office inventories wasn’t a surprise. It’s not a particularly pretty building and its social history isn’t sexy enough for Pittsburgh’s preservation connoisseurs.
As my research into Pittsburgh gambling clubs progressed, I learned that the space next door, at 1926 Murray Avenue, also had a gambling club on its second floor: the Squirrel Hill Veteran’s Club. Like the Beacon Club, this joint had achieved legendary status in the annals of Pittsburgh organized crime. Law enforcement officers raided it many times since it opened after World War II. One raid even included breaking up an elaborate cheating ring operating inside the club.
Later research uncovered yet another layer to the building’s colorful history. In 1956, gambling entrepreneur David Lawrence (not the mayor and later Pennsylvania governor) opened a men’s store in the street level storefront: Lloyd’s Limited. According to FBI organized crime files, the store was a front for the New Kensington-based Mannarino brothers numbers organization.
After Lawrence closed Lloyds, a series of businesses, including a Radio Shack (1970s) occupied the first floor space. Despite the turnover, the Lloyds storefront and club entrance were intact and fully legible the when I visited in 2019 and 2021.
I recently had a meeting in Squirrel Hill one block away from 1926 Murray Avenue and I stopped by to take a closer look. According to construction workers excavating the interior, the space is being converted into a bakery. One told me that the new tenants considered saving the terrazzo floor but that they abandoned the idea.
As for the legibility of the colorful underworld activities that took place there over several decades in the late 20th century, all of that is now gone. Along with the building fabric, gone too are any opportunities to teach about the property, city, and neighborhood’s social history using the bricks and mortar. I can’t imagine that a pretty new bakery facade is going to be more interesting than the terrazzo floor and recessed door that once distinguished this storied space.
Ⓒ 2022 D.S. Rotentstein
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