Pittsburgh, 37 years later

How has Pittsburgh changed? Let retired investment manager BRUCE ZEWE count the ways

When Carol Channing made curtain calls after her performances in “Hello, Dolly!” at the old Penn Theatre in 1967, she routinely marveled about how “nice” and “easy to please” people in Pittsburgh seemed. “Oh, Pittsburgh, may you never change,” she gushed to captivated audiences.

Well, sorry, Dolly, but nothing in life — even Pittsburgh — remains static. Metropolitan Pittsburgh may still possess the affability that charmed Ms. Channing six decades ago, but it has changed in many other ways. After dwelling elsewhere for 37 years, I returned to live in Western Pennsylvania last summer and was struck by how the relentless onslaught of time has reshaped the cherished region of hills and valleys, rivers and rivulets, and parks and potholes where I was raised. Among the changes:

• The city of Pittsburgh’s population is smaller than ever: 304,391, down from 423,938 in 1980. Among metro areas, Pittsburgh now ranks 26th, with a population of 2.36 million, a decrease of 11 percent since 1980.

Notwithstanding the economic implications of a smaller population, Pittsburghers seem to cherish the size of their community. Pittsburgh has long been called the nation’s biggest small town, and its cozy, human scale accounts partly for the place’s appeal. It’s heartening how Pittsburghers smile and make eye contact with strangers.

• The number and guidance of road signs have improved enormously. In the past, getting around Pittsburgh could be as nightmarish as a George A. Romero movie for out-of-town motorists (and more than a few local motorists). The implicit, provincial assumption was that practically all drivers were natives who knew how to get from, say, East Liberty to Moon Township, so road signs were an unnecessary affectation.

• Primanti Bros. has become almost synonymous with Pittsburgh in the national consciousness. It often is what first comes to mind to outsiders when they think of Pittsburgh. They say, “Oh, Pittsburgh — that’s where they put fries on the sandwiches.” In contrast, outsiders often say about Philadelphia, “That’s where Eagles fans booed Santa Claus.” I’d rather live in a place known for piling fries on sandwiches. In any event, Primanti Bros. has come a long way.

• Two media titans who dominated broadcast ratings, Bill Burns and Myron Cope, are gone.

In the post-World War II era, Mr. Burns’ reporting and opining on the news on KDKA-TV in his gruffGus manner seemed a perpetual fixture locally, like the Fort Pitt Blockhouse. As my mother noted with a mix of fondness and condemnation, “Bill Burns can inject