It's not so impossible to sit at The Point and, in the imagination, have the West End Bridge, the Carnegie Science Center, the submarine USS Requin, Kaufmann's old warehouse, Three Rivers Stadium, the Duquesne Incline and all the other dross and boast of civilization melt away until gradually you become aware of the land at the forks of the Ohio that once flowered for Seneca, Delaware and Shawnee eyes.
A breeze comes up the Ohio out of the West and vanishes the pleasure boats, the coal barges, the muscular towboats, the whole Gateway Clipper fleet, the apartments and restaurants atop Mount Washington and the piers of the old Manchester Bridge.
The Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers meet at The Point, flow into the Ohio which flows into the great Mississippi which flows down and out into the Gulf of Mexico. George Washington, as a young major, saw the practical value of The Point as a site for a fort. But, for a transitory enchanted moment, he must have held his breath in the presence of all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast.