The event was held at the William Penn Hotel, built in 1910 and scrupulously preserved for this entire time. The owners eschewed every fashion to embrace its classical elegance, especially its mighty chandeliers.
In two weeks, staff and volunteers will begin the annual cleaning ritual in which the chandeliers will be lowered to the ground from a crank in the crawl space above the ceiling. The crystal is cleaned, and the lights are replaced. This is to prepare for the holidays.
The hotel itself is a history lesson in the world that existed before the Great War: its elevation of beauty and gentle elegance, its optimism, and its confidence in the future. The place has a world-famous speakeasy—always with a long line to get in (hint: The password is “swordfish”)—but also so many wonderful meeting rooms, all with gorgeous ceilings.
Speaking of which, I’m ready to declare myself a serious partisan champion of ornately decorated ceilings. The minimalist movement that deprecated them made a huge error. One visit to this place will convince you. Bring them back! As they used to say, it is the fifth wall and needs love.
These styles have all returned in our times of hyper-nostalgia for what we have lost. The space is especially notable for not being hidden out in some elite resort but rather right there in the city center, available for everyone.
Of the many times I’ve been to Pittsburgh, this was the first time I tried the famed inclines up to the top of Mount Washington. At one time, this city had 26 funicular railroads, but only two remain, both built in the 1870s and operating ever since. People use them daily for commutes, but they are also a thrilling tourist attraction.
Charming and elegant, this machinery is a living symbol of the past that never quite went away.
The views from the top are breathtaking, and you get a glimpse of what it means to have more bridges in the city limits than any city in the world. There are 446 of them, mostly made of hard and beautiful steel, the material that changed the world and built the modern city as we know it.
Pittsburgh is a town that makes me want to rhapsodize like a follower of Ayn Rand. Its skyline, the materials and shapes that make up the structure of the city, celebrate man’s creative genius in every way. It is more beautiful than the most cultivated garden because it is a picture of order out of chaos and all directed toward the betterment of society.
In the late 19th-century structure of production, the city stood between the first producers of raw materials somewhere in the mountains of West Virginia, the financial centers of New York City, and the mansions of the final owners in Rhode Island and Connecticut. It is the city that transformed what nature gave us into things we can use. It was called the Iron City and, later, the Steel City. Steel now only refers to the backbone of the city’s spirit. It has remade itself yet again.
Pittsburgh appears at the top of the list of affordable cities in which to buy a home, and it is one of the best places to do business. But keep in mind that this was not a straight line onward and upward. Four decades ago, it was the symbol of the panic of the time: the deindustrialization of America.
The place was nearly gutted, but one would never know it today. Even after the plundering of its industrial base and the shocking closures of the COVID-19 years, it is still a beautiful, bustling city with surprisingly clean air, gorgeous architecture, fabulous food (real food!), and happy people everywhere.
It would have been impossible for me to understand these things were it not for Garrett’s great book. Here we discover how Pittsburgh played a central role in the very creation of modernity and how it became a benefactor to us all, making it possible for us to enjoy the highest standards of living in the history of the world.
There is also an economic lesson in its rise from ashes. The source of Pittsburgh’s suffering in the past 25 years of the 20th century was not the macroeconomic business cycle. The doldrums were not caused by the Fed or any tyrant. Its decline came about in a dramatic shift of an entire industry out of the United States.
Because of a messed monetary system and tangled regulatory machinery, America, broadly speaking, was not a very viable competitor in the production and distribution of steel. Other nations, other firms located in other places, could do it more efficiently and effectively.
All these years later, this might seem like a foregone conclusion. Pittsburgh moved on and transformed itself. But at the time, it was not obvious at all. People said that without steel, there could be no Pittsburgh, and without Pittsburgh, there could be no vibrant economy in the United States.
The city itself went through a long period of wrenching transition in which housing prices and real estate prices fell through the floor. Businesses shut down. Tax revenue plummeted. Its residents were scattered to the winds. Even the symbol of its skyline, which once seemed glorious, then looked like the very image of the last days. Not even the vaunted steel union could do anything about it.
It all seems like ancient history today. Steel is mostly gone. The evidence of its past is everywhere in the city—an indelible stained mark (or more like a patina you see on sterling silver) on the physical surroundings and the culture of the city—but there is no living reality.
But what has taken its place has made up the difference. So while the rest of the country went through a real estate boom and bust, Pittsburgh stayed on its long course forward to recovery, having been spared the ups and downs.
One of the city’s tallest buildings is the old U.S. Steel building, a wonderful structure that expressed in architecture the very love of steel. Its beams are exposed on the outside in raw black. Magnificent. Only one thing: Today the building is labeled UPMC for University of Pennsylvania Medical Center. And even now, it holds 2.3 million square feet of leasable space.
There is every reason to be bullish on the city even in our times. The charm of the past is everywhere on display and in full use as a firm foundation for all that has happened over a long series of boom-bust cycles. Trying to figure out the core secret to the city, I suspect it is this. This city is not about destroying but rather producing and building. That’s why it is a city of layers of time, all in full display. That’s the magic.
In that way, Pittsburgh is the model of everywhere. There has been far too much turning our backs on the wisdom of the past and far too little building upon it for a brighter future. This is probably why the city seems like such a happy place.
