The Burg

November 30, 2002

It's Thanksgiving morning and I'm sitting in a Pittsburgh diner trying to complete this column before the noon deadline.

The place is called Tom's Diner, a Pittsburgh institution, and possibly the greatest diner on earth. The booths are upholstered in red and white vinyl. The floor is checkered black and white tile. And it takes about ten seconds before one of the cheerful waitresses rushes to you with a menu and asks if you'd like some coffee.

You just don't find places like this in the Washington, D.C. area, where I moved four years ago. In Northern Virginia, construction is booming. Townhouses, office buildings and strip malls are popping up like wild flowers, as people continue to move in from every country to take advantage of the economic opportunity. I've met a lot of interesting people in Washington, but there is one thing missing that is common in Pittsburgh: a basic connection among people.

During one of my visits to the Burg, I was walking to meet some friends at a downtown coffee shop. A short, elderly fellow pulled his cigar stub out of his mouth and shouted at me.

"Hey, pal. Your wallet's about to fall outta your pocket."

I explained that my wallet is long and designed for the vest of a sport coat. It only appeared to be falling out. I thanked him and walked off.

"But, pal," he shouted. "A dollar bill is showing at the top of your wallet. Flip the wallet around." I continued walking, smiling at him. "I said flip it around!" he demanded.

In Pittsburgh, you see, people are outward and concerned about their fellow man. The kindly old fellow didn't want someone to swipe my wallet. Pittsburghers hold doors open for strangers, politely wave you ahead in traffic and don't hesitate to help you in your time of need.

I was visiting my parents last May when a hurricane-like burst, a macro-burst, touched down just blocks from their house. It toppled large trees in a 10-block area, blocking several roads. Within minutes, people in their Sunday best were getting soaked by the rain as they directed traffic, helped clear the roadways and keep others from getting near the downed power lines.

Such a response would NEVER happen in Washington. Whereas people are connected with each other in the Pittsburghs of the world, there is a lack of connection among people in Washington. You walk down the street and people go out of their way to avoid eye contact. People usually don't hold the door for you. And good luck if you break down on the highway.

Last winter I was driving along the beltway during rush hour. Two cars were blocking the right lane after a minor accident. I saw an elderly couple standing on the side of the road not sure what to do. I pulled to the side of the road and got out to help. Another fellow stopped to help, too. As we pushed the cars off the road, the rest of rush hour crowd glared at us as though we were responsible for their delay.

If the economic trends of the past decade continue, more and more Americans will move to the large metro regions to take advantage of the economic opportunity there. They will move away from places like Pittsburgh where opportunity is limited and the city is struggling to pay its own bills. But I wonder how this trend will affect the heart of our great country.

As we get further away from our roots and our hometowns, will we become less friendly and less concerned for our neighbors, as is the case in Washington? Will people become more generic and less like the colorful characters common in Pittsburgh? As we move into large areas of sprawl, will we lose our sense of place and home? Will be begin to care less?

There is a story of a large Pittsburgh fellow visiting Washington, D.C. He's in a bar watching the Steelers play the Redskins. Suddenly, one of the Washingtonians shouts out, "There are only two types of people in Pittsburgh: trampy women and football players."

The large Pittsburgh fellow stands up and grabs the Washingtonian by the shoulder. "My mother is from Pittsburgh," he says. The quick-thinking Washingtonian says, "So what position did she play?"

You've just got to love a town that produces people who care so much.

Tom Purcell