Collier’s Weekly: Time for Me to Bid Farewell to Pittsburgh Magazine — and Consider All the Secrets Yet to Find

PHOTO: ADOBE STOCK

There’s an evocative song by the excellent Pittsburgh band Meeting of Important People. It’s called “I Know Every Street,” and it sounds like the proud yet tired boast of an aging Pittsburgher. “I know every street in this town,” singer Josh Verbanets says, taking on a character — a relatable one. “It’s been a long way since I made a bad turn,” he sings. “I’m a soothsayer, and I can’t be too proud.”

That song has always sounded like Pittsburgh to me — especially in the way we don’t merely regard this city as the place that we live, but as a place we own.

I first contributed to Pittsburgh Magazine with a print column on Film and Nightlife; the latter subject was assigned to me by then-editor Julie Talerico, and the former was what I wanted to cover. The two concepts were merged, somewhat awkwardly, and I began submitting stories.

The first “Film and Nightlife” piece appeared in the December 2009 edition, an issue that featured a grinning Marc-Andre Fleury on the cover. I discussed new management at Dormont’s Hollywood Theater — the more things change, eh? — and went on to list the bands who would be playing First Night that year.

I became a full-time employee in the summer of 2011. Now, 16 years after my byline first appeared in this publication, I’m on the way out. And it feels like I know every street in this town.

When I look at those stories and blog posts from a decade or more ago, I never remember writing them. But I remember the way all of those places — bars and theaters, historic landmarks and quiet neighborhoods — felt. I can read old editions of my After Dark blog, which preceded this column, and have no familiarity with the names of pubs or venues, but the sensations I experienced return with perfect clarity.

That’s been my favorite thing about being a part of Pittsburgh Magazine from the time I was 24 until well into my 40th (yikes) year. This job has given me a license to wander — an opportunity to explore the city in minute detail. I’ve spent 16 years telling friends and family about remarkable details and tucked-away curiosities, often shedding light on something they’ve driven past hundreds of times but never noticed.

One of my favorite projects ever, at least among non-spooky endeavors, came when I made the admittedly foolhardy decision to feature at least one thing in each of Pittsburgh’s 90 neighborhoods in our bygone City Guide. I found myself driving to parts of the map I knew only by name, turning around corners and ducking into unfamiliar diners and shops in search of something fascinating. The feature package was a mixed bag, I confess — try to please the residents of all 90 neighborhoods, and you will inevitably come up short — but the experience of writing it was wonderful.

But here’s the thing: I don’t know every street in this town. No one does, really. The city has too many secrets to uncover in 16 years, or 100. I hope to continue exploring in my next position, and I’m sure I’ll find some unexpected treasures. But if I kept at it throughout my entire life, the work would never be complete.

Pittsburgh’s history is too long to ever be fully written; its roots run too deep to ever be entirely unearthed. That’s this city’s great gift to those of us who live and grow old here: We wake up feeling like we know every street in this town, and by the end of the day, we’ve found a new one. The stories of Pittsburgh are all around us — and, to quote a different song, they’re changing every day, in every possible way. The Pittsburgh Magazine team will continue telling them (and doing a very fine job of it). I will, too. But we’ll never be done. And I’m thankful for that.