Cold October Fall, At The Outside Of A VFW Hall
Tales from the building on McKean Ave
The building doesn’t look like much on the outside. It doesn’t hide it’s age very well, once a place that hosted dance parties in the 50's, it was a club with many members and was a main attraction in the town of Charleroi. It sits on McKean Ave with two old wooden doors that once opened let you venture into a musty old room. There’s faded American flag posters on the wall telling you to support the troops, the lights of the exit signs are fading in and out. You step out onto an old brown carpet that hasn’t been cleaned in years, in front of you are several kids with their arms folded in the middle of an important conversation. They stare at each new person that enters the room as if you’re being sized up. People want to know how did you find out about this? Everyone treats this as their own secret, their own hideout from the real world. Near the back of the room is small riser that has a drum set on top of it. There’s a few mics setup as well as some amps, a group of kids your age are soon going to walk into that space and stand before you. They’re nervously hooking up guitars and yelling “Check, check” into the microphones. Their lead singer is going to ask team arms folded to move up to the front please. There’s something about hearing that opening fuzz of a guitar connecting with an amp. If you’re worried about crowds or being stared at that fear quickly goes away once those amps speak up. All the attention goes to the front of the room. Smartphones weren’t that big of a deal so you didn’t have much to look at, except the band that stood in front of you. At the time I didn’t want to be anywhere else, friends would mention to me there’s a VFW show tonight. Who’s playing? It doesn’t matter. It’s a show.
“I lived in the Mon Valley. We lost our movie theater and were left with banks, bars and pizza shops. The VFW was my go to place, because unlike big clubs in Pittsburgh it was OUR place. It wasn’t corporate or newly furbished, it was old and beat up like The Valley. That was part of its charm.”
Joshua Bakaitus started booking shows at the VFW when he was 12 years old. My biggest problem was hoping my Playstation didn’t skip during the loading screen of a game at 12, but Josh was booking and promoting shows. We lived in an area called the Mon Valley. Made up of old steel mill towns, the valley was your typical layout of a place that had seen much better days. If you wanted to see a show you had to go to the city of Pittsburgh which was 45 min away. The Valley didn’t have anything cool, we had a movie theater with one screen that closed up. Sure we had bars, banks and pizza shops, but nothing for anyone around the ages of 15 to 18. We were all looking for an escape route, it was an area you grew up in fighting against the environment, you were scared to death of getting stuck here and becoming rusted over like all the other towns appeared to be. When Josh started booking shows at the VFW I forgot about those plans to escape for a couple years. The VFW was my escape, I didn’t want to leave so badly anymore. How could I? The Beautiful Mistake was playing on Thursday and on Sunday Tora! Tora! Torrance will be in town. You saw local bands trying to make this insane idea of starting a band work while bands on smaller labels tried to scale the mountain of the music industry. When I started attending shows here I was just starting to become obsessed with what was referred to as “the scene.” Before the VFW I had only been to large concerts, ones held in large capacity arenas. Stepping inside this old building I had no idea what I was getting myself into or the impact it would have on my life. It felt illegal, like the cops would bust in any moment to shut everything down. There was no security, no guard rails, the band didn’t play on a stage they played on the floor at your height, singing back at you. Lead singers of hardcore acts bumped into you while performing, guitarist would swing around their instruments without a care, small circle pits would open up around you and kids would push their way to the front with anxious hopes of getting the mic to sing back a verse. High school doesn’t play out like it does in the movies, I wasn’t invited to crazy parties, I wasn’t having sex and I didn’t drink. The VFW was a place where awkward kids like me felt at home, it was our little secret and my escape from reality for a moment.
When I graduated from high school and entered Point Park University the VFW was still hosting shows. While I was in high school my interest for visuals and storytelling was just beginning. I didn’t take any photos during that time, I regret that now. As a struggling “fine art” photographer I didn’t know what I wanted to do with this new major I set myself up with. My black and white photos of trees, rock sand spoons were not cutting it. My professor Chris Rolinson asked me what I was interested in. I mentioned that I liked going to shows and he told me I should take my camera there and see what happens. The VFW was a place where I made new friendships and restarted old ones. It just so happens that my friend from middle school Jason Vogel attended and promoted VFW shows put on by Josh. He always asked for me to bring my camera and I finally took the chance and decided to photograph some shows there. I was hooked after my first show, there was no first three song rule, you could go and stand wherever you wanted and no one ever asked you to stop shooting. I was inspired by the work of Mark Beemer and Danny Clinch so I would place myself in between the amps and drum riser crouching low trying to find interesting angles. After photographing there once I never thought about attending without my camera.
When I first met Josh Bakaitus I was nervous. This guy was booking and promoting bands I loved and was playing in his own band The Abattoir Murders. I was struggling to figure out f-stops and trying to frame a photograph correctly. I showed him a few images and he ended up liking them and turned me loose on the place as a photographer for his then company Bridgeport Entertainment. This was the beginning of my photo career, a lot of first happened in that old building. I forged bonds with people that I still talk to today. I met Nick Degrazia at our terrible job of working an all you cant eat buffet. He attended VFW shows as well and was friends with Jason. Nick and I were roommates all through college and are still great friends. I took girls on dates there because I wanted them to see this place that I loved. When more popular kids from my high school began making appearances I remember being so bummed out over it. The VFW felt like another universe where they didn’t exist, this was my place to hide from the world of high school for a bit. Now looking back that seems very selfish, shows do better with more people in attendance, but you’re not thinking about that at 18. I was there when an unknown act called Fall Out Boy played to a small crowd, I had no idea who they were nor could I imagine the success those guys would achieve someday. I was there when the crowd pushed forward leaving Saosin no room except to stand on the tiny drum riser and perform as if they were on a small island surrounding their drummer.
“It was a 1000 degrees in the summer and freezing in the winter. The uniform of choice were black t-shirts, Chuck Taylor’s and studded belts. You might of been weird at your high school, but this was a club that accepted you as member.”
You had sweat on you from the kid standing next to you, your ears would ring for days because sound would bounce of the walls and have no where to go. I saw local bands like Punchline and A Week in July show me that you could create your own creative outlet. You could get out of the valley and tour the country. The VFW came into my life at the right time. It made me believe in a community that you could lean on when times got tough. Break ups? Bad days at school? Trouble at home? Go to a show, you’ll feel better afterwards. You buy compilation records from merch tables and discover bands you never knew existed. You share new bands with your friends and break down their lyrics like you’re trying to discover some hidden meanings.
It’s a good thing, but good things don’t last forever. The VFW is now officially closed and shows stop happening there around 2007. Every time I drive past the building my hands tense up on the steering wheel. I remember the sights of walking into the old place, I think about all the friends I made there, how I never felt unconformable or that I didn’t belong.
I can hear the ringing in my ears of that opening guitar riff of a band letting the crowd know it’s ready.
I still hear those opening words. “Ok we’re going to need everyone to move to the front!”
