From Scoops to Nuts

By David Bennett

Chocoholics will grow weak at the site of the all-chocolate "Martha" sundae at Klavon's.

N

ostalgia sweeps over me whenever I step into Klavon’s Ice Cream Parlor at the edge of the bustling Strip District in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It’s more than the proprietor’s handlebar mustache and the authentic, old time dessert treats, such as egg crèmes (using real U-Betcha syrup), phosphates, and sundaes. It goes beyond the old woodwork, the stained glass, and the old stools. Klavon’s (pronounced kla-VON’s) is no imitation; it’s a genuine 1920s family-owned soda fountain and a must-see destination when visiting Western Pennsylvania.

James and Mary Klavon opened the store as a pharmacy back in 1923. Throughout the room, you can still see displays of old medicine bottles, scales, and remedies, although Klavon’s no longer operates as a drug store. The pharmacy was boarded up in 1979 while grandson Ray Klavon pursued his teaching career in the Pittsburgh Public Schools. As Ray Klavon approached retirement, he reopened the store as an ice cream parlor in 1999 – and fans of old-time soda fountains can count themselves lucky that he did!

Ray himself looks like someone dusted him off after years of storage. Sporting a mild-mannered demeanor with his genuine smile under a bristly handlebar mustache, he plays the role of the old-time soda jerk to perfection, complete with paper hat and apron.

One unique feature of the store is the bottle-cap-shaped stool seats that line the beautiful petrified moss and marble counter. Italian stonecutters revere the petrified moss as a superior counter surface, according to Ray, because besides its beauty, it withstands moisture much better than marble. Its deep green cast also handsomely counters the pink of the marble apron.

When Ray reopened the parlor, his primary concern focused on the freezers behind the counter. “Removing these freezers would have meant dismantling this counter.” When he went in the basement to switch on the compressors, he kept his fingers crossed. “My refrigeration man switched on the compressors, and told me to go upstairs and put my hand against the freezer walls. In less than a half hour, the walls turned ice cold.” A change of refrigerant, and the heart of the ice cream parlor was good as new. “In those days, they built these things to last,” Ray marvels.

Other seating includes three wooden booths and the twisted-wire furniture common to soda fountains of that era. Two antique phone booths are back in the far corner next to the old weight machine. Don’t count on sitting in the far booth: it’s usually filled with Ray’s family and is referred to as the “y’oughta booth.” The phrase is derived from the wealth of advice coming from the booth (y’oughta sell this or y’oughta do that).

Ever affable Ray embracing his cousin Patti Graham and his sister Audrey Vernon.

Even better than the visual feast, the main attraction of Klavon’s is certainly the ice cream and soda fountain treats, and there are plenty of varieties to choose from. Some of the specialty sundaes include the “Tin Ceiling,” the “Flood of ’36” and the “Martha Sundae,” which is unabashedly chocolate everything (chocolate and toasted almond fudge ice creams with chocolate syrup, hot fudge and chocolate whipped cream with chocolate sprinkles). Martha’s Sundae was named after Ray Klavon’s mother and confessed chocoholic, Martha Klavon. My favorite soda fountain offering is the Ballerina, an elegant combination of orange sherbet, vanilla ice cream, and vanilla syrup with soda water.

Every time I visit, I hear a new story about the place. If you ask about the line almost to the ceiling that marks the peak of the floodwaters of 1936, you will hear how Ray’s father had to slip out the top row of windows into a rowboat to escape the rising flood. There’s another story about a couple that visited Klavon’s after the reopening and told how their courtship in the 1940s took place at the pharmacy. She was a girl from Polish Hill and he was from the North Side, their two neighborhoods split by the Allegheny River. The parents did not want them together, so they secretly met each other halfway at Klavon’s. The couple, still married after 50 years, is thrilled that Klavon’s is back in business.

Subscribe!

Subscriptions to Roadside are only $14.95 for four issues.

Your subscription saves America.

Collectors may want to look at some of the unusual memorabilia in at Klavon’s. For example, there’s an old Isaly’s Skyscraper Cone scoop (Ray calls it a “disher”) on display. The Skyscraper was a novelty ice cream treat featuring a pointed top that was extremely popular at the Isaly’s chain. The distinctive skyscraper scoops were recalled to Isaly’s main office, and there is speculation that most of the scoops ended up in a landfill, making the few remaining scoops all the more collectable.

Kids grow wide-eyed looking at the penny candy counter. There’s a great selection to choose from, and yes, at least one of the items can be bought for a penny. When Ray catches up on all his customers, you can see him offering each child a pencil, a tradition that must spring from his school-teaching days.

The most wonderful thing about Klavon’s is the way it communicates the experience of the old soda fountain, for those who remember it fondly, and offers a glimpse into the past for anyone visiting for the first time. And thankfully, Ray seems fairly confident that his family won’t ever deprive the city of this heavenly experience again.

“With all the people in my family,” Ray assures me with a smile, “there will always be someone to take my place.”


Klavon’s Ice Cream Parlor is located at 2801 Penn Avenue in Pittsburgh’s “Strip District” and is open Monday – Friday 10:00 A.M. to 9:00 P.M., Saturday and Sunday Noon to 9:00 P.M. The parlor is smoke-free and wheelchair accessible. For more information call 412- 434-0451 or visit the website at www.klavonsicecream.com.