The Rea Coffeehouse History Project

A call to action

Since I started this blog, a few current Chatham students have sent me wistful messages, saying they wish Rea Coffeehouse was still used, or that they had no idea such a cool thing was on their campus. Though they’ve had nothing but positive things to say about the project, they always spoke of Rea Coffeehouse in the past tense — and in a passive voice: Wishing something would be done, but not taking the steps to do it themselves. This post is for them.

Here’s the secret: YOU have the power. Not me — an alum who hasn’t enrolled in a class in three years and hasn’t lived on campus in close to a decade. You’re the ones actively paying tuition and attending classes, and heading off-campus to find anything good to do because the one thing you want to do on campus isn’t an option. But the thing you don’t realize is, it is an option. You’re paying Chatham, not only tuition, but a student activities fee. Rea Coffeehouse is a student activity. You have every right to use that space. Just because it isn’t easy, just because administration isn’t welcoming you with open arms, just because there isn’t currently an active Rea Coffeehouse committee doesn’t mean that’s the end of the conversation.

In my day — not all that long ago, mind you — Rea Coffeehouse was the black sheep of student activities. From what I’ve found while documenting its history, it’s always had ties to the counter-culture, so that’s probably nothing new. We got the tiniest budget, we were met with resistance from the Chatham Activities Board and administration, and we had to fight for everything. (And I mean everything! We had to make a case for a new coffee urn — when ours was 30 years old and non-functioning — as a line item in our miniscule budget when COFFEEHOUSE was in the name, for chrissakes!) But a dedicated group of Chatham students made a case, pushed back, and kept it going.

In the decade-plus since, technology has evolved; access and communication are easier than ever before. You guys have Facebook; the tech-savviest of us had LiveJournal. We had to cut and paste our flyers by hand and assemble a rudimentary website with HTML code; you have desktop publishing in yr dorm room and blogs at yr fingertips. These comparisons aren’t meant to position one time as better than another, but they are meant to give you a kick in the ass. You don’t have it easy by any means, but what you do have is a level of access and communication channels that were never available to those who came before you. You’re not lacking resources.

So you want to see Rea Coffeehouse re-opened? Demand it. Start a petition. Survey the residents of Rea House to get their perspective. Put up flyers all over campus and organize a new committee. Hold meetings. Strategize. Write an article for the paper. Write a letter to President Barazzone. Contact Student Activities. There are ways to make things happen, if you just try.

I hope you will.  

Guest post: Rea Coffeehouse was the site of Pittsburgh’s first punk show

The following was submitted by John Shanley — aka “Johnny Angola” — of the Pittsburgh punk band The Shut-Ins. He now lives in Philadelphia where he works as Creative Director at an ad agency.

The placid confines of Woodland Road provided part of a fitting juxtaposition for the evening to come. I was well aware of the Chatham Police force’s thin tripwire—having been stopped many times late at night, taking the shortcut from Fifth Ave to Squirrel Hill, and I knew this would be an evening to remember.

My band, The Shut-Ins, were playing our first real gig outside of a stray party now and then. And somehow, through a friend of a friend who booked acts into Rea Coffeehouse, we got a gig at the august private girls’ college. We played punk, and in 1977 in Pittsburgh, that got you noticed. That, spiked short hair, and paint-splattered, torn thrift store clothes.

We’d thoroughly postered the East End, hoping for a decent turnout, but knew not what to expect. I pulled out a can of spray paint during pre-show beer drinking and penned “Diamond Reo=Zero” on the ductwork above the stage area. As a typical Pittsburgh bar band, they were, in our eyes, the old guard and it was our job to bring them down; to take rock music and give it a hard kick in the ass. The Pittsburgh (and US) economy was in the crapper, the mills were shutting down and laying off. Times were changing; not necessarily for the better, but they were changing. We were determined to be a part of what was next.

A few students peeked in during sound check, and a handful took some seats in the back. We chatted and welcomed them, thinking that would be it: a few brave Chatham sisters. But as the clock ticked toward show time, the cars began to arrive in droves. Maybe one in 10 looked like a potential kindred spirit, but the rest: the old guard rock and roll bar crowd. And they were parking not in the lots, but up and down Woodland. Swissvale and McKees Rocks denizens were ignorant of the voracity of the Chatham cops to stop and ticket.

We wasted no time. Rea was packed. Everyone brought beer. The heckling was already starting, which to us, was inspiring. Being the lead singer, I was less than five feet from the front of the crowd. We launched into the set with a primal punk “1-2-3-4.” The music was deafening and we had no monitors, so I couldn’t hear myself. My 19-year-old eyes darted from face to face, some snarling, some glaring, middle finger raised, and a few of the kindred gleefully bouncing up and down: the early punk pogo, before “slam” or “mosh” was incorporated into the lingo.

Anti-punk epithets and full beer cans flew in between songs and we gave it right back, shaking beer cans and showering the crowd. I wasn’t sure how this would end up, and really didn’t care. It was mayhem.  It was majestic. And so far, we were in control.

The crowd was growing bolder—and drunker—as we clicked through the next few songs which were fast, loud, lean, and brusque: “I Hate My Girlfriend”, “Curfew Time”, “Revlon Girls”, and a paean to my home town simply titled “Pittsburgh,” with a chorus that ended in a chant of “I want out!” Many in the crowd assured me they’d be happy to show me the quickest route.

In the middle of the next song, as quick as the evening had started—it ended. Perhaps I was entranced and didn’t notice, but at some point, a large crowd of Pittsburgh Police entered from somewhere and pulled the plug. I felt a beefy cop’s hand on my shoulder. “The show’s over,” he said. And indeed it was.  The cops told people to get their (ticketed) cars out of Woodland Road or they’d be towed.

It took me a little while to come back to earth from this carminis interruptus, but as I crouched in front of the drum kit, still holding the dead mic, I stared up at the people shuffling out. These denizens of The Decade, Fat City, the 3D Lounge passed by, some nodding, a few giving a thumbs-up. We’d given them something outside of their usual, from the Elysian serenity of Chatham, to the cacophony of loud, obnoxious music in a small room without a bartender.

There were no arrests. We didn’t make it into Bill Burns’ 11 p.m. newscast. But we did clean up the mess, along with a few new friends and Chatham girls who hung out with us into the night. 

Following the Rea Coffeehouse gig, a few more Shut-Ins gigs were raided by the police, whereupon we decided to move to the more fertile punk stomping grounds of New York City. CBGB, Max’s, and other NYC clubs welcomed us with open arms.

Love, Rea Coffeehouse style

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m gonna do the obvious thing and talk about love. I met my husband at Rea Coffeehouse nearly 10 years ago. And this got me wondering: who else fell in love in there?

Maybe you’re in love with the Coffeehouse. (It’s cool. We won’t judge.) Just what is it that sets your heart aflutter? A certain line of prose spray-painted on the ceiling? A special scratched church pew or torn-up vinyl chair? We want to know!

Click the submit button at the top of our page to share your love story. We’ll post them all week!

♥
Emily
Founder, Rea Coffeehouse History Project

Love, Rea Coffeehouse style

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m gonna do the obvious thing and talk about love. I met my husband at Rea Coffeehouse nearly 10 years ago. And this got me wondering: who else fell in love in there?

Maybe you’re in love with the Coffeehouse. (It’s cool. We won’t judge.) Just what is it that sets your heart aflutter? A certain line of prose spraypainted on the ceiling? A special scratched church pew or torn-up vinyl chair? We want to know!

Click the submit button at the top of our page to share your love story. We’ll post them all week!

<3
Emily
Founder, Rea Coffeehouse History Project

Exciting stuff is happening

Photos and scans aplenty coming your way soon.