From a young age, I’ve found solace in the Pavlovian pleasure of the brassy “All Things Considered” chime. While other kids were begging their parents to turn the dial to Top 40 pop radio, I preferred to hear two old brothers banter about auto maintenance on “Car Talk.” NPR has been an omnipresent voice in my ear, whispering tidbits of worldly happenings, accompanying me on my walks, drives, rows and rides. The centerpiece of NPR’s catalog is the witty weekly news quiz show “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me!”
Last week, I was listening to the sweet sounds of “Wait Wait” when host Peter Sagal, seemingly jumping out of my phone and speaking directly to me, said the cast would venture from their home base in Chicago to record a show at the Benedum Center in downtown Pittsburgh. I studied up on all the headlines until I felt like a news know-it-all walking down Penn Avenue towards the theater.
As I settled into my seat on Thursday night, I realized I had no idea what the cast looked like. They were always just little voices that live in my headphones and gab about Boeing and fiber supplements during my bus rides to Aldi. I don’t know how I expected Sagal to look — I could’ve imagined him as some mousey bespectacled variant on the dad from “Caillou,” but instead he more closely resembled Michael Stipe from R.E.M. with a liberal arts degree.
Hearing Bill Curtis speak sounded like God himself had taken an earthly vacation to Pittsburgh and stopped by the Benedum Center to host a quiz show. I can only compare the sensation of hearing Peter Sagal’s voice come out of Peter Sagal’s body to the uncanny feeling of seeing Tom Kenny do his SpongeBob voice in real life. Likewise, hearing Sagal drop an f-bomb in his opening monologue felt like hearing that SpongeBob voice narrate a reproductive anatomy chart.
Advertisement
The audience was what you might call an “NPR crowd.” These folks love a good charcuterie board and live for Shakespeare in the Park. They sip their coffee over the New York Times crossword on a Sunday morning after posting their Wordle on Facebook. Earlier that day, each one of them had told someone about an article they “read,” although in reality, they just saw the headline on their phone. These were my people.
Before the recording began, Sagal addressed the audience to mark the show’s return to Pittsburgh and lament the change from Heinz Field to Ac — Acri — sorry, I’m so bitter that it pains me to even type the new name. I resent that our sports writers have to call it that A-word, like how news publications are gradually warming us up to calling Twitter “X.”
Contestant Maeve Higgins said Pittsburgh reminded her of home in Ireland because everyone was pale and it was raining. And boy, did it rain — at one point in the show, a jarring flash flood warning alarm erupted from every iPhone in the audience. I figured that if the 71B washed away into the Monongahela on the ride back to Oakland, at least I heard the voice of Bill Curtis in person before I drowned.
Only once the game began, with Sagal and Curtis standing at name-tagged podiums sitting a disco ball away from the three headphone-clad contestants, did I breathe in the absurdity of this show’s premise. A troupe of nerds and news junkies yap about Ozempic and cicadas while some consultant from Connecticut sits on the phone and tries to get a word in edgewise. I love it. I could’ve been born a 12th-century feudal peasant shoveling pigswill until I died of the bubonic plague, but instead I’m lucky enough to live in the same time and place as “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me!”
The special guest for the evening was legendary Steelers coach Bill Cowher. A Crafton native, Cowher riled up the niche of NPR Yinzers in the theater with stories about being trapped on the Gateway Clipper cruise and winning the Super Bowl. When Sagal confronted him on Heinz Field’s transition to Ac — nope, still can’t do it — he said in his mind, it was still Three Rivers Stadium.
Advertisement
As contestants pored over the topics and trends of the week, I came to appreciate how much the producers polish each episode before it hits the air. There are so many line rereads, gaffes, awkward pauses and off-color quips that escape the final product. Contestant Mo Rocca even got up to use the bathroom mid-show, sneaking offstage with a Grinch-like gait before reestablishing his presence with a silent ballet routine. These weren’t just disembodied voices emanating from a podcast app — they’re real people who went to the Pittsburgh Banjo Club from their hotel last night and can hear your phone ringing in the mezzanine.
Perhaps the most potent auditory set piece of the show was the audience. When Sagal mispronounced “Primanti,” the crowd chastised him with an instantaneous nasal “a.” Two men presented Sagal and Curtis with hand-drawn parchment portraits. The woman sitting in front of me stood up for an impromptu audition to take Sagal’s job, handing him her heartiest “This is NPR.” I feel like I’ve left a little legacy in my laughter and applause, lost in the sea of sound splashing at the stage, immortalized over the airwaves.
Mike Darnay is a digital producer and photojournalist at CBS Pittsburgh. Mike has also written and produced content for Vox Media and the Mon Valley Independent.
He often covers overnight breaking news, the Pittsburgh Steelers and high school sports.
Advertisement
Read Full Bio
/ CBS Pittsburgh
Advertisement
Two people were arrested earlier this week following a drug bust in Downtown Pittsburgh, police said.
Pittsburgh Police said Wednesday that Kyree Hairston-Mitchell, 24, and Mya Bryant, 23, were each arrested Monday following a drug bust at a residence along Stanwix Street along with the search of two vehicles.
Police said that detectives from the bureau’s Violence Prevention Unit arrested both individuals after executing warrants and searching the home and the vehicles where they discovered a large amount of drugs, cash, and a gun.
Advertisement
Two people were arrested after Pittsburgh Police said they executed a search warrant at a home on Stanwix Street along with two vehicles.In total, police said detectives recovered $12,000 in cash along with heroin, cocaine, marijuana, prescription drugs, and a handgun.
Pittsburgh Police
According to police, detectives recovered $12,000 in cash, heroin, marijuana, cocaine, prescription drugs, and a handgun.
Hairston-Mitchell and Bryant are each facing numerous drug-related felony charges, according to court records.
Advertisement
Court documents show that Hairston-Mitchell is being held in the Allegheny County Jail after being unable to post $25,000 bail. Bryant was arraigned and released on nonmonetary bond, court records show.
Both individuals are set to face a preliminary hearing later this month.
Police said that a passenger in one of the vehicles involved in the arrests was taken into custody on a warrant out of Ohio.
The Parkway East’s Commercial Street Bridge is about to blow – but it’s not happening on Wednesday night.
PennDOT say they were going to bring down the bridge sometime between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. on Wednesday, but around 8 p.m officials and security said the explosion was postponed.
The demolition will be shown live on PennDOT’s project page or 511 PA, which also has cameras placed along the project’s detour routes.
Watch the live stream here:
Advertisement
A crowd of about 100 people gathered Wednesday evening at the Summerset at Frick Park residential development for a front-row view of the bridge demolition.
The atmosphere felt more like a neighborhood block party than a construction event. Families brought their children and pets, while groups of friends arrived carrying pizzas and coolers of beer. Lawn chairs lined the hillside as people in shorts and sunglasses settled in to wait for the explosion. Some spectators wore earplugs in anticipation of the blast.
A man with a ukulele strummed some folk tunes to liven the expectant atmosphere as police wrapped red caution tape around the edge of the hill, denoting the 800-foot security perimeter around the bridge.
Merav Amos, from Squirrel Hill, brought her family for a picnic, complete with books, lawn chairs and glasses of wine.
Advertisement
Amos said she planned the trip when PennDOT released its expected demolition window, but realized then and there that there was one thing she had forgotten.
“I actually hope it’s not going to be too loud, because we don’t have earplugs,” she said.
Amos lives near the Parkway East’s local detour route, and has had to deal with traffic increasing near her home since the bridge closed on Friday. She hoped watching the demolition live would provide a satisfying payoff.
“The last few days were very rough,” she said. “I want to see some action.”
Advertisement
Jim Christy, of Robinson, parked in the South Side and made the journey over on his bike to watch the explosion.
Christy frequently bikes through the Frick Park trails — some of which were restricted on Wednesday ahead of the demolition.
“You had to be sure-footed,” he recalls about pickup games on Shadyside’s Roslyn Place, one of the nation’s few surviving wooden streets.
Cohen often talks up Roslyn while chauffeuring movie actors around town. “Inevitably,” he says, “they want to come see the street.” It also draws many walkers, bicyclists, bachelor and bachelorette parties, photographers, artists and people who make rubbings of its oak blocks.
Advertisement
Many other Greater Pittsburgh streets are paved with bricks or stones of various shapes and shades. These old-time toppings seem to be popular but problematic.
They’re considered handsome reminders of Pittsburgh’s past. They’re expensive but durable. They sprout weeds but seldom potholes. Some may reduce runoff and heat.
But they’re bouncy and clattery. They can be slippery when wet or icy. Though many have concrete bases, they tend to develop ruts over time.
Officials often wonder whether to maintain historic pavers or consign them to history. Jacob Russell, Verona’s borough manager, says, “It’s always an ongoing debate.”
The bricks of Allegheny River Boulevard in Oakmont host occasional market nights. Photo by Grant Segall.
Here and there
According to a list of Pittsburgh’s nearly 20,000 official street segments, 623 have bricks, 295 quarried stones (often incorrectly called cobblestones, which are long out of use), and 840 concrete, while the rest are asphalt or “unknown.” But be warned: Some entries on the list are outdated, and one’s been wrong all along. It calls Roslyn asphalt.
Advertisement
Then again, Knoxville’s Brick Way is listed correctly. It’s plain asphalt, at least today. Brian Kell, a chronicler of Pittsburgh’s streets, can find no record of previous surfaces on this tiny street, first known from an 1887 plan.
Pittsburgh’s many brick streets don’t include Knoxville’s Brick Way. Photo by Grant Segall.
Some streets with brick or stone sections are big and bustling, like downtown’s Grant Street. More seem to be small and quiet, like the Hill District’s Hollace Street. Some are fairly level, like Homewood’s Laxton Street. Others are dizzying, like Oakland’s Joncaire Street and Beechview’s Canton Avenue.
Older pavers seem most common in older neighborhoods, such as Hazelwood, but are rather randomly scattered in them. Squirrel Hill’s Murdoch Road has stone, brick and asphalt segments on different blocks. Middle Street on the North Side has a stone one and a brick one on the same block.
Canton Avenue, America’s steepest residential street, is mostly topped with quarried stone. Photo by Grant Segall.
These pavers are also common in older suburbs, such as McKees Rocks, Oakmont and Sewickley. McKeesport once had a Brick Alley, named for its surface, though better known as a red-light district.
Allegheny County also has 26 miles of dirt or gravel roads, historic, but hardly beloved.
Advertisement
Streets through the years
According to several sources, including Robin B. Williams of historicpavement.com, the world’s first roads were unpaved, prone to dust, mud and washouts. American settlers topped “plank roads” with boards and “corduroy roads” with logs. Cobblestones proved tough on wheels. A mix of crushed stones was dubbed macadam for Scottish inventor John McAdam. Tar was added and one of the mixes dubbed tarmac.
Wooden blocks became popular, including an 1850s kind called Nicolson or Nicholson blocks, chunks preserved with creosote. So did granite, limestone or sandstone blocks, variously called sets, setts, blockstones or Belgian blocks. The 1870s brought bricks and asphalt. The 1890s brought concrete.
Pittsburgh resident Ned Schano led a winning drive for historical designation from the city for Roslyn Place and its wooden blocks. Photo by Grant Segall.
According to Joel Tarr in “City at the Point,” 19th-century Pittsburgh was quickest to pave the busiest or wealthiest streets, sometimes charging the property owners. Many other streets remained unpaved into the 20th century.
By the mid-1910s, wooden streets were already quaint, the look Roslyn’s developer apparently wanted for this cozy dead end, lined mostly with brick homes. It helped that his son owned a lumberyard, which supplied about 26,000 blocks.
Over the years, the city has replaced many of those blocks with newer ones. To spare them all, it blows and sweeps snow there instead of plowing it.
Williams says that the nation has just a few other wooden streets left, including Cleveland’s Hessler Court, part of Philadelphia’s South Camac Street, and Chicago’s aptly named Wooden Alley.
Advertisement
Beautiful and bumpy
Most locals praise vintage pavers.
“They’re the coolest things,” Kathy Lutz says of Bridgeville’s several brick streets. “They make me feel nestled in here.” They also remind her of a famous Beatles album cover. “We have Abbey Road in the middle of Bridgeville.”
Crossing Bridgeville’s Gregg Avenue, Kathy Lutz feels like a Beatle crossing Abbey Road. Photo by Grant Segall.
A stone stretch of Bloomfield’s Lima Way is smooth enough for Kelly DiTullio to carry a heaping carton of strawberries home from the neighborhood’s farmers market without spilling any. “It’s charming,” she says, “especially when the greenery starts to grow in between.”
A woman identifying herself just as Kelissa says that her dog, Princess, likes Lima’s stones for relieving herself.
Locals see benefits even in these pavers’ bounces. Drivers slow down, and bystanders hear them coming.
Advertisement
In Mt. Lebanon Magazine last year, Abigail Schade Gary wrote about that suburb’s many brick pavers, “The charm! The distinction that signifies Mt. Lebanon!” Not quite as enthusiastically, she recalled sliding backward down them in her family’s station wagon. She liked them for sledding but not roller-skating. “Even if you could manage to stay on your feet over the bumpy surface, the unevenness made your teeth chatter.”
A few locals would update some retro roads. “Most of them are in such a state that they need to be paved over,” says Mt. Lebanon’s Greg Carvlin.
The Hill District’s Francis Street has stones of several shades. Photo by Grant Segall.
Cara Zlatos recently hit the bricks of Aspinwall’s Delafield Avenue after an appendectomy at UPMC St. Margaret. She says, “Every bump seemed to find its way straight to my sore abdomen.”
Melissa Lang O’Malley, Aspinwall’s borough manager, says that Delafield’s much-needed repairs will resume this summer.
Bicycles bounce too. According to Julie Walsh, spokeswoman for BikePGH, most riders prefer modern pavement for routine rides, but some choose brick or stone at times for fun, especially in challenging events like the Pittsburgh Roubaix and the Pittsburgh Dirty Dozen.
Advertisement
Bicyclist Henry Snyder of Squirrel Hill says that historic pavers “give you a little chance to experience what the Tour de France guys do in Paris. You don’t want to do it too long because it sends vibrations down your arm. For a block or two, it’s great.”
This 1925 photo by Allegheny County shows bricks being laid in Shaler on what was called the Butler Plank Road, now William Flinn Highway. Photo courtesy of Northland Historical Image Collection.
Saving surfaces
A 2018 Pittsburgh ordinance calls for preserving historic pavement where safe, unless 75 percent of the street’s property owners petition for asphalt. Eric Setzler, chief engineer of the Department of Mobility and Infrastructure, says that it costs $30 per square yard to resurface asphalt, versus $170 for brick or $200 for stone. But brick and stone can last for decades, especially on streets with light traffic.
“There are streets that are probably over 100 years old that have had minimal maintenance,” he says. “They will have some dips and bumps, but they are still in service. … The cost can even out a little.”
Aspinwall’s Lang O’Malley says that recent brick repairs cost about $12 per square foot versus barely $2 for asphalt, but might prove better investments over 30 to 50 years. Besides, “While modern infrastructure needs sometimes require difficult decisions, preserving that historic character where possible remains an important part of maintaining Aspinwall’s identity.”
In a 2016 study of Mt. Lebanon’s brick streets, the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation said, “Though costly to install, these streets maintain a good structural condition for decades and add beauty and history to the area.”
Advertisement
In 2020, a Carnegie Mellon University team estimated that Mt. Lebanon would save about $200,000 over 50 years by maintaining a stretch of brick 700 feet long instead of asphalting it. Ninety-six percent of residents surveyed said the bricks added character, and 82 percent would pay to restore them.
Safety matters, though. A steep brick stretch of that suburb’s Spruceton Avenue was asphalted after an official did a 360 on ice there.
Verona, on the other hand, simply closes a steep stone section of South Avenue during wintry weather.
Potholes in asphalt streets often reveal earlier materials, like these bricks on Joncaire Street. Photo by Grant Segall.
PennDOT maintains just 0.2 miles of bricks or stones on state roads in Allegheny County: stretches of Chestnut Street in Coraopolis, Broadway in Stowe Township and Linden Avenue in East Pittsburgh. “Generally,” says PennDOT Press Secretary Alexis Campbell, “we end up paving them with asphalt.”
Old pavers are often buried under asphalt but reappear in potholes. Others are removed and sometimes relocated. A few are part of the landscape of the Children’s Museum of Pittsburgh. Some that PennDOT removed from Castle Shannon Boulevard in Mt. Lebanon are parts of that suburb’s other streets.
Advertisement
Magic and texture
In the 2010s, resident Ned Schano led a campaign that won city landmark designations for Roslyn and specifically its wood. “Every day,” says Schano, “I make sure to step on the wood when I go outside. It has some magical powers.”
Cohen feels like Roslyn’s wood is ingrained in him. “It’s been a great texture for my whole life. To see it’s still here when so many other things have gone away, it’s amazing.”