Willy, the wizard of Lawrenceville

William (Willy) Saver, a boyhood friend back in the 1940s, was a jack-of-all-trades who had technical and creative skills that defied our imaginations.

He tinkered with everything electrical and electronic and was way ahead of his classmates at Washington Vocational High School and the University of Pittsburgh where he studied architecture and engineering.

Willy led my brother Skip and me on all-day hikes. My closest friend, Herky Stayduhar, often joined us. We hiked the hills above the Allegheny River beyond Highland Park and way out on Route 8 to Allison Park, eight miles away.

Nearing Allison Park, Willy could hardly wait to test his selfbuilt transistor radio — built with discarded tubes and insulated wiring — as we neared the KDKA radio transmitter there.

Willy told us that Allison Park was once called Talley Culley (Celtic for “hill over the borough”), but was renamed after Irish settler Rev. Francis Allison who settled there in the 1830s.

Taking a shortcut through the woods near Route 8, we saw a long, black snake. We were frightened, but Willy calmly picked it up and told us that it was a rarely seen King Snake. Where did he learn that? I wondered.

On warmer days, we stopped at the Locust Grove picnic grounds for a swim. While we cannonballed into Pine Creek, Willy waded nearby looking for tiny pebbles for his collection.

Some weekend evenings, we went to local dances ... without Willy. In all his 76 years, he never danced with a girl or had a girl friend.

After high school, Willy repaired and even made hearing aids for a company Downtown. As a Western Union messenger, he also repaired the company’s bicycles. He assembled a telescope from cast-off parts and amazed us with his knowledge of the stars and planets.

Willy’s favorite comic book character was Willy Lump in the Lil’ Abner cartoons. The other Willy seemed to inspire him.

Mild-mannered Willy could be officious when necessary. My older brother, Joe, who once joined us on a hike, remembers when three young thugs accosted us near the Highland Park reservoir. Willy pulled out a pad and pen from his pouch and sternly demanded: “I want your names and addresses ... now.” The three sped away.

Willy’s most stunning creation was a Christmas star that he mounted atop his house on 57th Street in Lawrenceville. Five feet across, it had many rows of bulbs in five different colors, all synchronized to holiday music from loudspeakers he’d built.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew when Willy’s star was in operation because their houselights dimmed when his transformer kicked on. People came from miles around to see it.

Photography was another of his passions. He preferred black-andwhite photos, making beautiful prints in his own darkroom. Willy was ecstatic when he got his first twin-lens reflex camera, a RolleiFlex.

In the 1960s, Willy joined a Benedictine monastery in California but soon found the monastic life was not for him. So he finished architectural studies at San Diego’s Mesa College and then worked there as a city planner. He started drawing his pension just before the onset of Parkinson’s in 2002.

Willy returned to Pittsburgh that fall and entered Passavant Hospital. His younger sister Kitty and husband Tom Rogers, who live in Allison Park, handled his worldly affairs.

One of my last trips with Willy was to Cook’s Forest State Park, northeast of Clarion, although we almost didn’t get there because Willy couldn’t stop taking pictures at Brady’s Bend on the Allegheny River, one of the most scenic spots in Western Pennsylvania. Willy told us that Brady’s Bend was named in memory of Capt. Samuel Brady, a legendary frontier scout in the late 18th century.

Another boyhood friend, Chuck Byerly, who joined us on that trip, enjoyed Cook’s Forest so much that he and his wife Nancy bought a house just outside the park when they retired. Chuck, Herky and I remain in touch after all these years.

Cook’s Forest, by the way, was Pennsylvania’s first state park. It was named after John Cook, the area’s first settler in 1826.

Willy didn’t tell us that one. I had to look it up.