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A Fan's Farewell: Steelers fan celebrates 'final road game'
Black-and-gold 'viewing' honors Garfield man who loved his Steelers
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
By Ervin Dyer, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
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In silk black-and-gold pajamas, velvety black robe and slippers, James Henry Smith is at rest.
His feet are crossed, his pack of cigarettes and a beer by his side. Steelers highlights are playing on a high-definition TV screen nearby. With the TV remote in his hand, leaning back in his recliner, a Steelers blanket across his legs, it's like a game-day Sunday.
Except that it's not.
It was last night at Samuel E. Coston Funeral Home in Lincoln-Lemington, and family and friends were filing in to pay their final respects to Smith, whom they called one of the biggest Steelers fans in the universe.
Smith, 55, of Garfield, had been ill for two years with prostate cancer. He died last Thursday at the VA Medical Center in Oakland.
A week before, his wife, Denise Finn Smith, had called Coston's to ask if something special could be done to celebrate her husband's life. He wanted to be at home, in the living room, surrounded by photos of family and watching football.
For some viewers, the "living room" brightened a somber occasion.
"I saw it and I couldn't even cry," said Mary Jones, of Wilkinsburg, a longtime friend. "People will see him just the way he was. This is such a celebration."
For others, the moment proved too sweet not to shed a tear.
"I couldn't stop crying after looking at the Steeler blanket in his lap," said MaryAnn Nalls, 58, of Friendship, Smith's sister. "He loved football and nobody did [anything] until the game went off. It was just like he was at home."
This viewing was unusual, acknowledged Roland Criswell, Coston's young funeral director. In the past, with the rash of deaths of young men, families sometimes asked that they be laid out in Fubu and Pelle-Pelle, popular hip-hop clothing brands.
And the trend in many communities is to honor thematic requests. For instance, in one town, a well-known cook was laid out in a replica of her kitchen. Viewers were treated to apple pie as they came in.
"But," said Criswell, "I didn't know if I'd be ready to meet this request."
To create the effect, Criswell rented a stage to elevate and isolate the "living room" and then surrounded Smith with his Steelers' cap and fan favorites. A DVD of great Steelers moments looped continuously on the screen. The sacred moans of Mahalia Jackson played softly over the speaker.
Because Smith was slim, it wasn't too difficult to have him reclining in the chair and not falling over.
Since the request was made a week before he died, the staff was able to prepare.
Smith was born in 1950 in the Hill District, and he had two older sisters. He was a skinny kid who graduated from Westinghouse High School in 1968 and went to Vietnam. He served three years in the Army, 17 in the Army Reserve and five in the National Guard.
He came home and went to Robert Morris College for two years. He worked for U.S. Steel.
With no children of his own, he treated his wife's children like his own and "adopted" many of those in the neighborhood. Slowed by cancer in recent years, he stayed home and kept house.
"He had my dinner ready when I came through the door," said his wife, who met him 12 years ago in an East Liberty bar and married him two years ago.
Smith was a party regular. His wall of photos has him in a gray fedora and matching suit at a dozen cabarets. He looked dashing, his wife by his side.
He loved to dance and when he was not undergoing chemotherapy, he loved traveling to visit his stepchildren. He had three, and nine step-grandchildren.
But what he held most dear was football and the Steelers. He traveled to Cleveland when they played the Browns. But for home games, he'd watch on TV, inviting over his male friends and cheering into the twilight.
Game day at his house was a process. A former Army cook, he'd get up early in the morning and cook his favorites: chili and hot sausage.
Today, Smith's funeral at 1:30 p.m. will be more traditional -- in a casket. He'll be buried in Allegheny Cemetery.
But yesterday, he rested: His Steelers cap by his side, and a cherished wedding photo above his head -- his smile beaming into all eternity.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
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Black-and-gold 'viewing' honors Garfield man who loved his Steelers
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
By Ervin Dyer, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
<!-- BODY START -->
In silk black-and-gold pajamas, velvety black robe and slippers, James Henry Smith is at rest.
His feet are crossed, his pack of cigarettes and a beer by his side. Steelers highlights are playing on a high-definition TV screen nearby. With the TV remote in his hand, leaning back in his recliner, a Steelers blanket across his legs, it's like a game-day Sunday.
Except that it's not.
It was last night at Samuel E. Coston Funeral Home in Lincoln-Lemington, and family and friends were filing in to pay their final respects to Smith, whom they called one of the biggest Steelers fans in the universe.
Smith, 55, of Garfield, had been ill for two years with prostate cancer. He died last Thursday at the VA Medical Center in Oakland.
A week before, his wife, Denise Finn Smith, had called Coston's to ask if something special could be done to celebrate her husband's life. He wanted to be at home, in the living room, surrounded by photos of family and watching football.
For some viewers, the "living room" brightened a somber occasion.
"I saw it and I couldn't even cry," said Mary Jones, of Wilkinsburg, a longtime friend. "People will see him just the way he was. This is such a celebration."
For others, the moment proved too sweet not to shed a tear.
"I couldn't stop crying after looking at the Steeler blanket in his lap," said MaryAnn Nalls, 58, of Friendship, Smith's sister. "He loved football and nobody did [anything] until the game went off. It was just like he was at home."
This viewing was unusual, acknowledged Roland Criswell, Coston's young funeral director. In the past, with the rash of deaths of young men, families sometimes asked that they be laid out in Fubu and Pelle-Pelle, popular hip-hop clothing brands.
And the trend in many communities is to honor thematic requests. For instance, in one town, a well-known cook was laid out in a replica of her kitchen. Viewers were treated to apple pie as they came in.
"But," said Criswell, "I didn't know if I'd be ready to meet this request."
To create the effect, Criswell rented a stage to elevate and isolate the "living room" and then surrounded Smith with his Steelers' cap and fan favorites. A DVD of great Steelers moments looped continuously on the screen. The sacred moans of Mahalia Jackson played softly over the speaker.
Because Smith was slim, it wasn't too difficult to have him reclining in the chair and not falling over.
Since the request was made a week before he died, the staff was able to prepare.
Smith was born in 1950 in the Hill District, and he had two older sisters. He was a skinny kid who graduated from Westinghouse High School in 1968 and went to Vietnam. He served three years in the Army, 17 in the Army Reserve and five in the National Guard.
He came home and went to Robert Morris College for two years. He worked for U.S. Steel.
With no children of his own, he treated his wife's children like his own and "adopted" many of those in the neighborhood. Slowed by cancer in recent years, he stayed home and kept house.
"He had my dinner ready when I came through the door," said his wife, who met him 12 years ago in an East Liberty bar and married him two years ago.
Smith was a party regular. His wall of photos has him in a gray fedora and matching suit at a dozen cabarets. He looked dashing, his wife by his side.
He loved to dance and when he was not undergoing chemotherapy, he loved traveling to visit his stepchildren. He had three, and nine step-grandchildren.
But what he held most dear was football and the Steelers. He traveled to Cleveland when they played the Browns. But for home games, he'd watch on TV, inviting over his male friends and cheering into the twilight.
Game day at his house was a process. A former Army cook, he'd get up early in the morning and cook his favorites: chili and hot sausage.
Today, Smith's funeral at 1:30 p.m. will be more traditional -- in a casket. He'll be buried in Allegheny Cemetery.
But yesterday, he rested: His Steelers cap by his side, and a cherished wedding photo above his head -- his smile beaming into all eternity.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
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