BLOOMSDAY IN PITTSBURGH,

JUNE 16, 1998

Schedule

8:15 a.m.
1. BLOOMFIELD
El Dolce Cafe,
4525 Liberty Avenue
Bloomsday 1998 begins with the "Calypso" section of Ulysses as Leopold Bloom brings Molly her breakfast in bed, fries himself a pork kidney and to the sound of St. George's bells, sets off on his personal odyssey...

 
9:30 a.m.
2. CENTRAL CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL
4720 Fifth Avenue,
Oakland
In "Nestor," Stephen Dedalus drills his pupils in Roman history and English literature, suffers Mr. Deasy's lecture on Irish nationalism while waiting for his wages in soverigns that "fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth."

 

11:00 a.m.
3. HOMEWOOD CEMETERY
South Dallas & Aylesboro Avenue,
Point Breeze
Reading from "Hades," we'll accompany "poor Paddy Digham" on his final journeyto Glasnevin Cemetery with gossip and memories and dreams of immortality...

 

12:15 p.m.
4. MURPHY'S TAP ROOM
1106 South Braddock Avenue,
Edgewood
Pause with Bloom in "Laestrygonians" as he eats "strips of sandwich, fresh,clean bread" and "Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed..."

 

2:30 p.m.
5. CARNEGIE LIBRARY OF PITTSBURGH,
GILLESPIE ROOM
4400 Forbes Avenue,
Oakland
Steer a safe path through "Scylla and Charybdis" with John Eglinton the "Quaker librarian" and talk of Hamlet, Shakespeare and Hamlet's ghost at the National Library where Stephen and Bloom pass each other, unnoticed...

 

4:00 p.m.
6. POINT STATE PARK FOUNTAIN
Wander with Stephen, Bloom, "The superior, the very Reverend John Conmes,B.J.," Buck Mulligan, "William Humble, earl of Dudley" and a host of Dublinersas "Wandering Rocks" reveals Dublin, the "womancity," in her afternoon intimacy...

 

5:30 p.m.
7. MULLANEY'S HARP AND FIDDLE
2329 Penn Avenue,
Strip District
In "Cyclops," the Citizen and his mangy mongrel Garryowen wait "for what thesky would drop in the way of drink" and politics, patriotism, religion, andBloom are the targets of his vitriolic verbosity...

 

8:00 p.m.
8. CITY BOOKS
1111 East Carson Street,
South Side
"Circe" draws Bloom and Stephen into the ghoulish, gaslit nightmare of Dublin'sunderworld as we conclude Bloomsday with a dramatic adaptation of Nighttown by Dublin playwright and director Michael Ramsay...

Tome-toting troupe takes Joyce about town.


Annual ritual of reading 'Ulysses' meant to
'let people hear music of the language'
by Dennis Loy Johnson
for the Tribune Review

 Beneath overcast skies, standing in a depression between hillsides terraced with tombstones, the crowd of 30 people gathered at Homewood Cemetery was decidedly cheerful.
It wouldn't be an Irish event unless it was pouring down rain," Mary Warde explained in a light, lilting brogue.
Warde, who works as a fund-raiser at Allegheny General Hospital, North Side, and is from Tipperary, Ireland, waited patiently as the crowd settled into lawn chairs or plopped down on nearby headstones. Then she pulled a fat book from beneath one arm and commenced reading aloud to the gathering.
Dutifully, they all pulled out their own varied editions of the same book and read along.
They'd been doing this around town all morning. Warde's cemetery reading was the third event in the day-long reenactment Tuesday of scenes from James Joyce's classic novel "Ulysses."

Known as "Bloomsday," in honor of the novel's main character, Leopold Bloom, the series of eight readings started at 8:15 at El Dolce Cafe in Bloomfield and was scheduled to end late in the evening with a closing reception at City Books on the South Side.
Anne Burnham of Pittsburgh's Joyce Society, co-sponsor of the event along with the Carnegie Library, said the idea is to relive Leopold Bloom's mythic journey around Dublin, which takes place in the book on June 16.
This is the 10th year we've done this," said Burnham, who is from Malahide, Ireland. "The idea is to let people hear the music of the language. So many people have been intimidated from reading 'Ulysses' because of all the scholarship around it.
But if they could just hear it, they'd know it's really accessible language."

To accommodate this, Burnham said, almost all the readers scheduled are Irish natives, most of them from Dublin.
We feel that the Irish accent adds a dimension," explained Michael Cahill, himself a native of Cork. Cahill, a professor in the theology department of Duquesne University Uptown, quickly added that he also studied English literature at University College in Dublin, "Joyce's same university."
Cahill unexpectedly become one of the readers when the crowd moved on from the cemetery to Murphy's Tap Room in Edgewood. While Murphy's employees passed out complimentary sandwiches of ham and Gorgonzola cheese -- the same sandwiches served in the book -- Cahill announced, "As an Irish politician once said, the next speaker needs no introduction because (he) didn't show up." Cahill himself then read the appointed scene while sipping a Guinness stout during the frequent breaks for laughter.

Joyce himself once complained that the scholars were missing the fun and the humor," he said afterward. "This is a very funny book, and that's one thing I hope that reading it aloud will convey to people."
Sharing the bill at Murphy's was Dr. Arthur Fedel, a former dean at the University of Pittsburgh who was the day's only non-Irish reader. Fedel was granted dispensation because he also studied at University College in Dublin and was a participant in the very first Bloomsday celebration, held in Dublin in 1954.

Regarding the packed house -- the crowd had grown considerably since the cemetery - he noted, "This is one of the most intriguing books ever written, and this is one way of getting the book in the hands of people who may not be exposed to it."

Our friend Joe used to go to Bloomsday every year, and said it was an 'exhilarating experience.' Joe was an intellectual, he'd actually read the book. I was in awe of Joe, and intimidated by Joyce. "Bloomsday", I thought back then, "is not for me."
Joe died last spring, and several of us at his memorial service mentioned Bloomsday, and how we ought to do it, "in rememberance of Joe." As a retired person, with time on my hands, I thought I'd give it a try.
I joined the group at Homewood Cemetery, figuring that if it was too far over my head, I could just wander off and look at mausoleums.
They had picked a beautiful part of the cemetery, sloping to a hollow, with huge trees overhanging. The day was overcast, threatening to rain, perfect for a reading in a cemetery!
The group arranged themselves in a semi circle and a woman stood before them and began to read in an Irish brogue. The story, the incident, just moved along on her voice. Listening was an enjoyable experience.
The group moved on to a pub. I moved on home; my plan for this Bloomsday was just to participate in the exterior readings. And the next one was to be held at the Point, downtown. I took a bus downtown - parking is so impossible - and enjoyed the arts festival until it was time to convene at the point. It was mid afternoon, the sun was shining, it was getting hot! The woman who seemed to be leading the group suggested we move to a spot under some trees which was much more comfortable. Another woman was reading; in this episode Leopold and others were in a main square of Dublin and met and conversed. Appropriate that we were in a public spot in Pittsburgh. I guess Market Square, which might have been closer to the original setting, would have been too noisy and too crowded.
Suddenly, she closed her book and said it was a good stopping place, and why didn't we all move on to the next spot, a pub in the strip. Everyone picked up their things and began walking towards town. I was not going to the pub, I was done for the day and heading for my bus stop on Smithfield St.
As I passed a vendor at the entrance to the park, I overheard her say, "Oh, we are going to get a good one, look how black the sky is!" I turned around and saw what our reader, who was facing in that direction, saw, though we did not. I quickened my pace.
I quickened my pace, but not quick enough. The storm caught up with me two blocks short of my destination, in PPG place. Sheets of rain blew first this way, and then that. Umbrellas were useless. The drops of rain were hard against my cheek and uncovered arms, my shoes were soaked. Finally, I made it to the overhang at my bus stop, flattened against the wall, watching other commuters join us in this small dryish spot.
The Baldwin bus finally came. This was the first stop in town, and it slowly made its way through the downtown loop in bumper to tail traffic sweeping up Baldwinites as it went, regardless of stop. I hoped the others made it to their cars before the rain hit and were warm and snug in the pub, and made plans to participate more fully next year. And in the meantime, I might even try to read "Ulysses" ----



Link to: a pictoral view of Bloomsday 2000