Through the eyes of an 18-year-old, Pittsburgh in 1984 was the definition of a “has been” – a dirty city with old houses, words and phrases that made no sense beyond its borders and not a whole lot of opportunity. All this was clear even as I headed just 50 miles north to Grove City College.
I grew up in Shaler and attended Vincentian High School, where I played field hockey, complained when movie tickets reached $4 and spent many a day at the McDonald’s on McKnight Road. On my first day of college, I met Jeff, a Baldwin High School grad who I would go on to date throughout college and marry like all good Grovers do in the Grove City chapel.
Then we hightailed it out of The Burgh. Jeff would have stayed, but I was over it. The wanderlust that has culminated in my career as a travel writer was already rearing its beautiful head, and I wanted something different.
Over the next four decades, we bought our first home in Roanoke, raised our kids in Atlanta, were reminded of what it’s like to shovel snow in Chicago, and made our final move to Houston, where after 20-plus years of teaching in all those states, I settled into full-time writing. During all that time, I never looked back. Family members moved to Florida, so I had no reason to return, and frankly, no desire. I had found newer, warmer, cleaner, better cities, so why go back?
Then I got that alarming invitation that reminded me it had been 40 years since I had graduated high school. It was reunion time, and would I return? For some reason, the number jumpstarted me. I was suddenly curious: What would Pittsburgh feel like after all these years? My curiosity hatched an experiment: I would set out to experience the old and the new of Pittsburgh. What had changed and what remained unchanged from when I lived in the City of Champions all those years ago?
I began by booking rooms in one of the oldest and one of the newest hotels, I researched old and new restaurants, and I made plans to revisit my old haunts.
Potholed roads to forested enclaves
“Good Lord,” I said to Jeff, as we began navigating the roads from the airport. “The same crappy roads, winding all over the place, coming from all directions. Nothing’s changed here.”
My husband, who is as fair as a judge and considerably more objective than I, answered, “I love that we learned to drive here. If you can drive here, you can drive anywhere.” And he’s right! Even living in some of the busiest cities in the nation, I’ve never experienced the combination of steep, winding, pot-holed, 10-seconds-to-merge roads that dominate Pittsburgh.
I rolled my eyes, but my frustration dissipated when we drove across the West End Bridge. There was The Point, looking oh-so-beautiful, its burst of water eliciting a rush of emotional memories – Fourth of July fireworks, picnics on the lawn, the last view I had from the window of a hospital where my father-in-law lay dying. From there, I gazed up at the Trimont, which I had helped promote as a public relations intern at DDF&M Advertising in Gateway Center.
Driving to my old house in Shaler on Wible Run Road was disconcerting — everything looked smaller as an adult. When I saw a new EMS facility built over the spot where firemen used to turn on their hoses to create an ice rink, it felt like a piece of my childhood had died. But Kiwanis Park was exactly as I remembered it, and I could still see myself swimming laps as a Shaler Seadog and licking a candy spoon dipped in Fun Dip, grass tickling my wet legs.
Mostly, I was struck by how lush everything had become, yards overflowing with flowers and bushes and mature trees creating forested enclaves for homes with the Pittsburgh-traditional yellow brick. I’m in awe that the same homes are still there, not bulldozed and modernized as so many were in Houston and Atlanta.
Terrible Towels to spacecraft
Along that vein, The William Penn, arguably the Grand Dame of Pittsburgh since opening in 1916, has remained stoically regal. As I checked in at the gilded reception desk, I noted a gift shop with Terrible Towels — invented in 1975 — displayed just feet away from crystal chandeliers and velvet banquettes. It was a powerful reminder that Pittsburgh roots are deep, wide and unapologetically exposed.
Writer Rebecca Deurlein explores the Strip District during the Burgh Bits & Bites Food Tour on May 24. In photos from left: Deurlein at Parma Sausage, walking along Penn Avenue, sampling Mancini’s bread outside of St. Patrick Church, and tasting some hummus at Labad’s Mediterranean Cafe And Grocery. (Photo by Stephanie Strasburg/PublicSource)
I saw it again and again with the Burgh Bits & Bites Food Tour in the Strip District. Did you know that out of the 90 neighborhoods in Pittsburgh, the Strip is the most visited? This 1 1/2-mile flat stretch of land has served as a produce distribution center and a local business hub for over 100 years. It’s survived everything from the Great Depression to COVID-19, and walking it is like taking a step back in time. I sampled cinnamon bread from Mancini’s Bakery, drooled over hot soppressata at Parma Sausage, ate the best baklava on the planet at Labad’s Mediterranean Grocery & Café and devoured Greek delicacies at Stamoolis. At My Sweet Lily, I was reminded of the Pittsburgh Cookie Table, a staple at every firehall wedding, baptism and graduation I ever attended.
With a full belly, I visited a museum that didn’t exist when I was a kid – the Andy Warhol, which opened in 1994. Warhol famously called Pittsburgh a “culturally bankrupt town,” and I couldn’t disagree more. It may have taken a few decades, but Pittsburgh has proven Warhol’s statement wrong. After all, it celebrates Warhol’s utter weirdness, and it cultivates more culture in its compact footprint than most sprawling big cities. Old standbys like the National Aviary and the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens remain largely unchanged, as they should. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
As I explored these landmarks, I found one that many current Pittsburghers don’t even know about: the Moonshot Museum, opened in 2022. How cool is it that yesterday’s steel workers and engineers have evolved into the fields of robotics and space exploration? Jeff, an engineer who interned at Westinghouse, was fascinated by the fact that this museum is the only place in the nation where you can see spacecraft under construction.
Still the same Gateway Clipper
Other new (to me) developments include the massive David L. Lawrence Convention Center, Rivers Casino, Heinz Lofts in the old Heinz factory building, and apartments sharing space with Target in the historic Kauffman’s Department Store where everyone shopped back in the day.
I got my first glimpse of Acrisure Stadium and had no idea what it was until I recognized it as the former Heinz Field, built long after I left. And there was the new-to-me PNC Park, looking nothing like its predecessor, Three Rivers Stadium, where I cheered on Willie Stargell and waved my mitt high in the air with dreams of catching a ball. (Side note: My sister was smacked in the nose by a foul fly and went home with a ball signed by all the 1979 World Series champs).
My journey then took me to The Oaklander, a hip 5-year-old hotel with a 10th-floor lobby and guest suites boasting floor-to-ceiling windows and views of the Cathedral of Learning, Schenley Park and Soldiers & Sailors Memorial Hall. I appreciated The Oaklander’s attention to Pittsburgh history (artifacts and design elements highlight the city’s firsts and notables), along with its cool, contemporary vibe. Spirits & Tales, its signature restaurant, served up food and cocktails to rival anything you’d find in a foodie city.
Speaking of food, I found surprising comfort in returning to Pittsburgh’s eclectic cultural cuisine. The meal we are still raving about came from DiAnoia’s Eatery. The meatball recipe, passed down by the co-owner’s grandma, stemmed from a story so quintessentially Pittsburgh — orders to ship out for World War II, an impromptu spaghetti dinner and a resulting reassignment as base chef — that I had to try them for myself. That led to a veal parmesan sandwich and the porchetta, two dishes that reminded me so deliciously of the hearty, inexpensive comfort food I grew up on. I can honestly say that I’ve never eaten Italian food as good as what you’ll find in Pittsburgh, and that’s a big statement from a world traveler.
I couldn’t leave The Burgh without a sail on the Gateway Clipper. Jeff noted that his Senior Rec Day took place on this boat, and that was the last time he had boarded it. It looked exactly the same, 40 years later. Yes, tired and well-worn. But I learned more about Pittsburgh in that one-hour narration than during all the years it was my hometown. Pittsburgh is available via waterway from anywhere on Earth? Indeedy. Pittsburgh has more bridges than anywhere else in the world? Take that, Venice! It’s fascinating what you learn when you play tourist in your hometown.
But that last sail revealed so much more than just factoids for some future Trivia Night. It showed me the unwavering heart of Pittsburgh. Stadiums that sacrifice seating that would have brought big ticket money in favor of views of the three rivers. Inclines that still traverse Mount Washington, where a red and white Iron City sign boldly proclaims beer dominance. PNC Park prominently displaying a blue “42” in a lawn of retired jersey numbers. Monuments to veterans dotting the same shore as a sneaker-tying, sweater-wearing Mister Rogers statue.
I walked away with not just a new appreciation of my old town, but with a desire to experience more of it, to maybe even return to it. I don’t know what’s next for me, but I know that I’m not yet done with Pittsburgh.
Rebecca Deurlein is a freelance travel writer whose work appears in a variety of publications, including Forbes, Travel & Leisure, and Fodor’s. Find her on Instagram or at her website.
Read more essays on the Pittsburgh experience:
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Six weeks in the Amazon’s headwaters helped me to love post-industrial Pittsburgh
I renovated my Pittsburgh home with grief in my toolbelt and three generations of family ties
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