Pam Panchak, Post-Gazette Daniel P. Cirocco, left, of the South Side, and Bob Foster, of Mount Washington, chat at Starbucks on the South Side. Mr. Foster "saved my life," Mr. Cirocco said, by performing the Heimlich maneuver. "We were friendly before, but we didn't get close until then," said Mr. Cirocco.

By Corilyn Shropshire
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Nearly all of the dozen or so heads scattered about the South Side Starbucks on this frigid and snowy Thursday morning were covered or sprinkled with gray, the bodies beneath them clad in a similar cold weather uniform: loosely fit casual pants or jeans, chunky boots, bulky sweater --not exactly a motley mix.

So, it's anyone's guess as to who was sealing a technology deal or was simply lingering at 10 a.m., just after the weekday morning caffeine-rush.

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Denizens of this watering hole say that's why they travel from parts as far as Cranberry and Coraopolis to revel in this particular "Starbucks experience."

Beyond comfy couches and strong coffee poured to folksy, jazzy sound tracks, it's where Pittsburgh's up-and-coming tech economy collides with its old world roots. It's close to many university and startup research offices now straddling both sides of the Monongahela River where steel factories once sprawled, and to side streets whose clustered residences once housed the workers in those mills and still are home to many retirees and younger tech workers.

On this bitterly cold morning last week, a silver-haired, pony-tailed man who goes only by the name of "Finn" gabbed with 63-year-old retiree Daniel P. Cirocco as he balanced a laptop and browsed for airline flights.

Huddled over a long table in the back of the room, Joe Stafura and John Riley were speaking in hushed voices. Former veteran tech executives who now spend their days investing and advising startups, the duo met for an impromptu brainstorming session for their next top-secret startup.

"It's like speed dating," Mr. Riley said of why he likes to do business in this coffee shop. "Nobody owns the space and you get a chance to quickly assess the idea, the person and their logic."

Banishing business turf wars, this Starbucks on East Carson Street mirrors Boston's Trident Bookseller's & Cafe or Sonsie Restaurant -- well-trafficked hangouts in the technology startup scene that even non-techies filter through.

These work nests away-from-the-office are increasingly popular in the post-bubble world, survivors of the bust say.

In the "old bubble days," large "plushed-out" offices stocked with finely roasted free coffee were matched by power lunches catered by Prestogeorge, said Mr. Stafura.

"Nowadays, you have six to eight guys working in a room together to get a company going."

Actually, there are 10 guys working in an open space -- no cubicles -- a few blocks away at young robotic device firm MobileFusion, whose Chief Executive Officer Ric Castro remembers easy money in the '90s, a lot of which he believes was spent haphazardly.

Fast forward a decade, and the new plush is a $10 gift card that can be used to woo potential investors with dressed-up coffee and cookie that is nibbled alongside the masses.

The South Side Starbucks is perfect, its business-minded enthusiasts say, because it is a quiet, centrally located office outpost that is ideal for interviewing prospective hires, courting investors, conducting performance reviews and doing everything else that's necessary to move ideas from the labs to the marketplace. "You get the coffee, and it's generally on the quiet side," said Mr. Castro.

Despite averaging five to eight meetings a week at Starbucks, Mr. Castro looks out of place on this Thursday. Wearing a suit and tie topped off with well-coiffed hair, he looks more posh Wall Street corner office than cozy-casual coffeehouse.

When the crowd begins to scatter at noon, the man known as Finn, unhappy with his free wireless Web connection at Starbucks, heads across the street to the Beehive, where the Wi-Fi Internet connection also is free and, according to Mr. Stafura, the clientele is equally as techy, with a more artistic, musical and quirky flair.

Mr. Stafura said he's always frequented both coffee shops, and even helped develop the video gaming startup ImpactGames, where he's vice president of sales and marketing, inside the Beehive's brightly colored walls until finding more permanent digs down the street. He believes Starbucks is more appealing to the business community because it's nonsmoking; the Beehive has a designated smoking area.

Some say Starbucks and business go hand-in-hand since the straitlaced advisers to companies -- accountants, lawyers and the like -- seem to prefer the ubiquitous Seattle-based chain. The Beehive can draw a focused entrepreneur into "deeper distractions" said another startup chief and Starbucks fan, Alan Shaffer.

And the business types don't mind shelling out close to $4 for the South Side Starbucks' special "Bob Foster" drink: a double-short, no foam, extra-hot, nonfat latte -- a mix of skim milk and two doses of espresso served at sizzling temperatures. It's named for the semi-retired Mount Washington resident who comes in every day to drink it -- and to avoid the isolation of writing by spending hours at the shop, vacillating between reading, writing and chatting with his friends.

Mr. Foster, who said he retired in 2004 after a 40-year career in social work, is among the collection of retirees who baristas say add to the Starbucks' ebb and flow of noise and traffic as they spend hours bantering with new and old friends who pop in and out of the shop.

At around 2 p.m., the tech crowd has dispersed but the Starbucks begins to pick up from the lunch lull, with the in-need-of-a-post-lunch-jolt crowd.

That's when Mr. Cirocco appears again and plops down in the chocolate-colored velvet chairs to visit his friend, the immortalized-in-a-coffee-drink Mr. Foster.

He begins to explain how this bustling coffee shop is the launchpad of not just a smattering of tech firms, but a friendship.

The two men, both 63, were merely casual acquaintances before last year when Mr. Foster "saved my life," Mr. Cirocco said, by performing the Heimlich maneuver on him as he choked on a Burger King biscuit lodged in his throat.

"We were friendly before, but we didn't get close until then," said Mr. Cirocco. "He'll always be my hero."

"I regret it," Mr. Foster said, blushing with a smile. "Once you get him going, you can't stop him."