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Living single in Pittsburgh
Sunday, December 14, 2003 By Johnna A. Pro, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
It's hard to imagine, when you look at Alexis Pierce's social schedule, that Pittsburgh is, as the critics say, the worst city in America to be single.
Her circle of unattached friends includes everyone from intellectuals to ironworkers, and her datebook, which she tracks on a laptop computer, is filled weeks in advance.
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Three times a week, she and a girlfriend work out at a Downtown boxing club; Thursdays include a self-improvement class at Duquesne University. She dines out at least twice a week, always at a different restaurant. On any given Friday or Saturday, she joins dates or friends to take in cultural events or to go clubbing. She has Steelers season tickets, volunteers for several organizations and heads to the movies anytime she can.
"It's a matter of getting involved. There's so much happening in and around town that people don't take advantage of," said Pierce, a sales representative who recently turned down a job offer in Atlanta. "I take a pro-active approach. I'm never home."
Pierce, 29, who was raised in West Mifflin and lives on Mount Washington, is not alone. She echoes what other active singles in the region say: Criticisms of Pittsburgh are overblown. And it's the singles who are failing themselves by not supporting the organizations, businesses and events that are here. And that's what's hurting the city's image.
Earlier this year, and for the second year in a row, a survey in Forbes magazine proclaimed Pittsburgh the worst U.S. city in which to be single. The city ranked dead last among the country's 40 largest metropolitan areas based on six measurements: projected job growth, number of bars and clubs, cost of living, number of singles, amount of "culture" and number of "bohemians," all as measured by Carnegie Mellon University professor Richard Florida.
Pittsburgh's worst performance in the six categories was job growth, where it placed 39th out of 40. Its best placement was cost of living, where it placed 26th.
Forbes also asked readers to provide a thumbs up or down for each city, and only 29 percent of the respondents gave Pittsburgh a thumbs up -- meaning the city's reputation as a not-so-singles-friendly town (earned or not) extends far beyond its borders.
But what may have hurt Pittsburgh's image even more than the hard statistics are the intangibles, that certain je ne sais quoi that makes Austin and Minneapolis hip and trendy.
How did this city arrive at the bottom of the list? Surely not because of nouveau Pittsburghers -- people who have moved here from other cities, or those who've come back. They tend to be the staunchest advocates of Pittsburgh because they take the time to explore what is here. Longtime residents are another story.
"Pittsburghers tend not to appreciate what they have," said Doug Penhallegon, 26, an adjunct history professor at Community College of Allegheny County who has lived in Charlotte, Baltimore and Jacksonville. "I don't have trouble finding things to do. The problem is finding people who have the enthusiasm to go and do it."
A reputation earned?
Pittsburgh does have its negatives.
Cab service is sporadic unless you manage to get the super-secret cell-phone number for an underground Yellow Cab group, cadres of drivers who respond to calls other than those dispatched by the company. And Pittsburgh's subway system, with its four Downtown stops, doesn't compare to others around the country. There's no need to mention the parkways.
The city's best restaurants, even the prestigious Le Mont, practically scream, "We serve old married people." Trying to find a restaurant that serves dinner during the week after 9 p.m. can be an exercise in futility, especially without a Zagat Survey. And as far as shopping goes, well, there's nary a Crate & Barrel in sight.
What's more, Pittsburgh's topography and insular neighborhoods make it difficult to meet people because getting around isn't easy. The notion that real Pittsburghers don't cross rivers has at least some of its roots in reality.
And because the city's job market doesn't lend itself to transience, like Washington, D.C., for example, newcomers often find breaking into a new social network a challenge.
Fran Egler, vice president of programming for the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust, grew up in Squirrel Hill but returned to live in Oakland four years ago after school and work took her to Rice University, Yale and New York City.
After a decade living away from home, the 38-year-old was struck, at least initially, by the fact people here talk about their high school friends.
"That's just a typical Pittsburgh conversation," Egler said. "Sometimes you get the feeling people have made their friends and they're done with that. A lot of people have lived here their whole lives. That can be off-putting."
Amy Vogel, 29, of Munhall, a singer and performer, spent two years living in the Big Apple and came home, only to find most of her friends to be much more settled that her companions in New York.
"It's OK to be single and dating in New York," Vogel said. "It's a cool thing."
That Pittsburghers are set in their ways is a gripe Mike English has heard often, particularly from newcomers.
"The biggest complaint I hear is from people who move in from out of town," said English, 27, the executive director of PUMP, the Pittsburgh Urban Magnet Project. "A lot of Pittsburgh young people grow up here and move away. A lot grow up and settle down, and since there's so much pride in the city, it's difficult for outsiders to break into that. They feel left out."
It's not a criticism, but rather, said the Trust's Egler, a lack of experience on the part of Pittsburghers in terms of meeting newcomers, whether it be on the subway or at an after-work art gallery opening.
"People aren't trained to do that here, but there is an opportunity to do that," said Egler, who could be out at events and other activities seven nights a week. "There's a lot going on here, especially for a city of this size."
Becoming active
It's not as if there aren't singles out there.
In Pittsburgh, the total population 15 and older is 278,988, according to the most recent U.S. census. Of that number, 112,443 people -- or 40 percent -- have never been married. Divorced people and those who are widowed make up an additional 52,152 people.
In Allegheny County, the total population over 15 is 1,048,285, with 304,958 people -- 29 percent -- identifying themselves as never married. Another 186,222 people are divorced or widowed.
And in the region, including Allegheny and the five surrounding counties, 1,924,328 are 15 or older. Twenty-six percent -- 504,123 -- have never been married. Another 159,328 are divorced. Widows and widowers account for 176,368 people.
Part of the problem may be that many singles simply aren't getting out -- whether they are 22 or 72.
"The cohort of really active singles is very small," said JoAnn Matthews, 55, of Bethel Park, a divorcee who is secretary of the Pittsburgh Ski Club and self-described former wallflower. "Once you're out doing things, you do tend to run into the same people."
The ski club, 1,000 members strong, has about 700 singles and 300 married people generally in their late 30s and older. More than a few of the couples met while being single members of the club.
Matthews, who divorced five years ago, was terrified of facing single life. She was a wife for 22 years and had four children in school.
"It was absolutely daunting," Matthews said. "I was scared to death. It was terrifying."
Matthews' entry into single life began when she joined a national professional organization. She enjoyed the social aspects of the work-related conferences, but longed for something more locally.
The Pittsburgh Ski Club sounded intriguing, but Matthews didn't ski. Even so, she and a friend went to a club social one night, paid $20 to join, and stayed 90 minutes. She was hooked.
Matthews volunteered for a committee as a way to meet others in the group, began attending club events and even took ski lessons.
"The first year I was divorced, I went to two Halloween parties. Can you imagine that?" she said. "I hadn't been to a Halloween party in 20 years. I went from zero social life to a whole range of activities. The ski club meets the needs of all active adults."
While the club's primary mission is to promote skiing, the club members enjoy bowling, biking, hiking, camping, volleyball, ice skating, professional sporting events, happy hours, parties, picnics and an annual Monte Carlo night. And you don't need a big budget.
"You can spend $1,500 and go skiing in Italy, or you can spend zip and just come to the club socials," Matthews said. "If you look at our calendar, there's something every week. Something for everybody."
It was through a friend from the ski club that Matthews learned about the weekly swing dance classes held at the Edgewood Club on Sunday nights. Singles are encouraged to come. For $6 a week, she took lessons. She now often attends events sponsored by the Pittsburgh Boogie Club, a group of dancers, including singles, that meets weekly.
Because of the ski club, Matthews has met plenty of single men, widened her circle of female friends and finds that on any given night, she's got more than one activity to choose from whether, its with a date or another group of women.
"I'm out two, maybe three nights a week," she said. "It's fun. I'm a great socializer."
Making an effort
Twice in the past several months, English of PUMP has taken phone calls, one from officials in Boston, the other from Philadelphia.
English found himself talking about the steps Pittsburgh and the region are taking to retain young people, especially creative types between 25 and 40.
Boston, for the record, scored third on Forbes' list of desirable places for young singles. Philadelphia was seventh.
"It's bad everywhere, especially in the Northeast," English said. "It's not necessarily specific to Pittsburgh."
While cities like Boston and Philadelphia may have great rankings for now,, PUMP, with its history of trying to create interest for younger residents, is working to move Pittsburgh up the list. PUMP gives people an opportunity to be politically active and provides social and professional networking events. The group even sponsors a sports league that last year drew 2,000 participants to play 25 different sports, many co-ed.
"Now Boston and Philly are calling us and asking us what they should do," English said. "I'd say of any city in the country, we are more concerned and actively trying to address the problem."
Groups like PUMP were instrumental in starting the Ultraviolet Loop two years ago, an urban bus that provides transportation through the city's trendiest neighborhoods from 7 p.m. to at least 3 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays. The cost: $3 max; free for some students and seniors.
In the city's 14-block Cultural District, wealthy doyennes dripping in diamonds are still very much a part of the audience, but so are poor artisans wearing Army-Navy surplus.
Student ticket discounts, lunch-time concerts, question and answer sessions before or after shows, edgier productions, audience diversity, e-mail promotions and online ticket sales are a growing part of city's cultural scene, said the Egler, whose job with the Cultural Trust is, in part, to think about such matters.
And among the city's 88 neighborhoods, the South Side, Strip District, Squirrel Hill, Oakland, Shadyside, Lawrenceville, Garfield, East Liberty and now the West End are among those providing an eclectic range of restaurants, music, art, performance and coffee shops.
PUMP, which started in 1995, is one of the oldest of the groups working to create a vibrant social, political and professional scene for the city. Nearly two dozen others exist and all have joined forces under the umbrella of the New Pittsburgh Collaborative.
It's comprised of 21 diverse organizations, including the Gay and Lesbian Neighborhood Development Association; Pittsburgh Asian-American Young Professional Alliance; Network of Indian Professional; Shalom Pittsburgh/Jewish Social Network; Pittsburgh Geeks and even the Junior League.
One of the collaborative's members is the Pittsburgh Singles Volunteer Network, a group of singles 1,000 members strong, ranging from students to retirees who donate their time to 45 small charitable organizations.
Founder Julie Ransom started the nonprofit organization as a direct result of Forbes criticisms about single life in Pittsburgh.
"The best thing and the worst thing about Pittsburgh is that it's so neighborhood oriented -- the fact that we have this patchwork quilt of neighborhoods," Ransom said.
Ransom's experience and that of others who have lived elsewhere is that people in other cities are more mobile and open to new experiences than they are here.
"We get people literally out of their houses, which is good," Ransom said. And while she insists the Singles Volunteer Network is about volunteering, it's also a way of meeting people and making new friends.
"We make it very clear we're not a meat market. This is not a dating game. We get together because we want to volunteer," Ransom said. "But it is a great nonthreatening way to meet new people. You don't meet a lot of ax murderers who volunteer."
An outsider's view
Nimo Tirimanne, 40, is a native of Sri Lanka and a doctoral student at Pitt working to earn a degree in library science. He also is gay, and as he points out, is as much of an anomaly here as he was in Los Angeles because of his ethnicity and sexual orientation.
"I wasn't blond and blue-eyed and a surfer dude, so I didn't fit in there," he said on a recent Saturday night while listening to jazz at the historic Crawford Grill in the Hill District. "I have a wonderful life here. As long as one's not on the mission to find a partner, you do quite well here. It's all attitudinal."
For example, Tirimanne has come to appreciate the city's architecture.
"Aesthetically, it's so beautiful," he said.
On this particular night, he is in the company of three friends, Doug Penhallegon, who is white; Michelle Jackson, 29, of Homewood, a black woman who just finished a two-year stint with Literacy AmeriCorps; and Arthur Ford, 36, a black attorney with Burns and White who formerly lived in Los Angeles.
The four friends don't define themselves by the fact they happen to be single. Instead, they celebrate the diversity each brings to the table and they enjoy the intellect and interests of each other.
For her part, Jackson's social schedule includes evenings of salsa and Latin dancing, while Ford takes to the tennis courts and enjoys dinner parties with small groups of friends. At one such gathering recently, he met a woman he's now dating.
All agree with Penhallegon when he says the city is underrated.
"It's under the radar," he said.
But they all agree, too, that the city can be insular and provincial.
"I never know whether it's a small big city or a big small city," said Ford, who points out that most of his friends are other people like himself: transplants from other cities.
An unorthodox approach
At a table in Mario's on the South Side, Karen Klein adjusts her posture, smiles broadly and levels a mockingly seductive glance at Anthony Coletti.
"So, what's your passion?" Klein asks, before a blush creeps across her cheeks and she breaks out into peels of laughter.
Coletti and two other woman at the table, Kathy and Jaime Kallet, laugh, too.
But the levity that 26-year-old Klein brings to the table is just what the foursome of singles needs to begin what for the next 45 minutes will be an intense and lively discussion about God.
Their dialogue follows an informal lecture on spiritual passion by Jack Alverson, the chair of the Humanities Department at Carlow College, whose talk touches on the Greek philosopher Aristotle and the theologian Thomas Equinas even as Bruce Springsteen plays in the background.
Coletti, 29, of Irwin and the Kalett sisters -- Kathy is 36 and Jaime, 27 -- of Scott all are members of Theology on Tap, a loosely knit group of young people, mostly singles between 25 and 35, who gather each month to discuss moral issues, professional issues and personal spirituality over beers, wine or margaritas and, of course, bar food. On this night, pierogies, wings and quesadillas are on the menu.
The events, which are open to anyone of any religion, are held the first Thursday of each month at the Rhythm House in Bridgeville, the second Thursday at Marios and the third Thursday at the North Park Lounge in the Oxford Athletic Club in Wexford. The North Hills group started three years ago.
Chris Rotella, of Peters, a theology master's student at Duquesne, expanded the concept to the South Hills earlier this year. And make no mistake about it: Rotella, with her snug jeans and glass of beer, is not the Catechism teacher of your youth.
While she is married with three children of her own, Rotella said what's most surprised her since starting the group is the fast pace and hectic lives of the singles and other young couples she's come to know. It's far different from when she and her husband were courting 17 years ago.
Many are scrambling with jobs and school or both, travel and insane work hours. All are beyond the "bar scene" and ready to explore the bigger questions of life.
"They're in touch technologically all the time, but the opportunities they have to get together are few and far between," she said. "They're so darn busy. This is an opportunity for them to stop and sit down. If I can offer hospitality and community and help them connect, it's a great thing.
"I think this is so meaningful because Pittsburgh is trying to reinvent itself, and these young people are trying to reinvent themselves," Rotella said. "Pittsburgh is a place that's really in flux -- halfway between a conservative generation and a new generation. And they clash."
Rotella hopes her work with Theology on Tap will help to bridge that gap. So do all of the people involved in the grassroots organizations formed to better the region's reputation. Its members include Ray Obenza, 40, who is president of the New Pittsburgh Collaborative.
Obenza has worked at the grassroots level for 14 years, and he's convinced that the focus on singles and other young people is ready to pay off in big ways for the city.
"There is an energy here today that I didn't see 14 years ago. Fourteen years ago, Pittsburgh was at its past," Obenza said. "Today we're at a cusp between its past and its future. These people [and groups] coming together is an indicator. For me its almost intangible. There's this energy I feel. We're on the edge of real change."
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