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Editor’s note: PublicSource is dedicated to sharing a wide variety of voices. This first-person essay is part of a collection focused on the experiences of living in the Pittsburgh region. These essays highlight both the unique charm and the common struggles of our community. Discover more perspectives at PublicSource First Person.
Moving to Pittsburgh, even temporarily, was never my plan.
On April 2, 2022, I set out via Amtrak from Washington State to Vermont hoping to take my animal communicator business to the Green Mountain State. But the non-existent rental housing in that state caused me to cough up my savings and ditch my plans. As my funds dwindled, I had two weeks to decide where to go next — Ohio, New York, Indiana or Pennsylvania. I chose Erie, with its Presque Isle State Park and gemlike sunsets.
But 10 months later, after breaking my ankle and braving Erie’s limp economy, I found myself in between homes again. This time, though, I had neither reliable housing, nor the social service cushion offered in Vermont.
Patricia Herlevi, of Mt. Lebanon, outside of the Mt. Lebanon Municipal Building on May 7. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
The agreeable landlords from 10 months earlier had changed their tune. They were no longer willing to rent to me. I hopped between Airbnb rentals and a church, where eventually the reverend from Edinboro talked me into giving Pittsburgh a try.
Pittsburgh seemed attractive, at least in the photos that peppered social media posts. Yellow bridges spanned three rivers with skyscrapers gracing the background. I was intrigued by the Mexican War Streets, Squirrel Hill, Shadyside and Oakland, home to the iconic Carnegie-Mellon University, where my favorite musical — “Godspell” — was conceived.
But the Pittsburgh that appears on social media and the social ills of the real Pittsburgh share little in common. I wish that I had researched Pittsburgh’s air quality, which ranks among the worst of American cities. And perhaps a visit to test out the hilly terrain would have saved me future misery. Even Vermont was easier to navigate.
I’m from the West Coast, where there are reliable social services, efficient recycling programs and organic farms. I’ve realized that my health nut West Coast lifestyle just isn’t suitable for the Iron City.
That was until I rode Pittsburgh Regional Transit’s 61C from Oakland to Homestead and then had to walk more than a mile, mostly uphill, to West Homestead. A PRT round trip from Downtown to West Homestead took three hours. And prior to anyone telling me about the ConnectCard, I spent $2.75 each time I boarded a bus, even when my routes involved multiple transfers. A round trip to the East End Food Co-op in Point Breeze North didn’t just gobble most of my daytime hours, it drained my wallet.
A Pittsburgh Regional Transit bus stop’s re-routed schedule posted at Wood Street and Fifth Avenue on May 7. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
As the months wore on, I found that downtown Pittsburgh is riddled with construction and bus rerouting. The T stations are closed for days and platforms might be closed for weeks for construction projects. A Wood Street escalator rehabilitation project that was scheduled for completion in April is still ongoing, forcing me to find the stations with working escalators or elevators that don’t smell like urine because I have mobility issues. While at first I thought the trains were fun, eventually my ears grew numb from the repetitive messages about station closures, rerouting or the dystopian message about reporting abandoned packages: “If you see something, say something.”
And if I’m not already yanking out my hair, PRT expresses its concern: “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
I signed a 17-page lease online that reawakened OCD behavior. Several pages laid out what a tenant was permitted and required to do in their apartment. For example, not washing dishes immediately or leaving dirty clothing on the floor were causes for eviction, according to the lease. Not reporting cracks on the plastered walls or failing to report cracks in the caulking could lead to hefty fees when vacating the apartment at the end of the lease. The lease also mentioned that I was expected to hire a professional cleaner upon vacating, despite the dismal condition of the apartment when I moved in.
The storage unit that came with the apartment was already being used by another tenant.
I had to change the name on my mailbox and I had to clean dead bugs out of the apartment. Allergic to dust, I pulled out the latex gloves to wash the filthy blinds. The property manager ignored my pre-move-in maintenance requests, and she didn’t provide a checklist on which I could record the many shortcomings. “Just type up your list and email it to me,” she said.
It took me three days to get internet service because the property management only allowed one vendor — Comcast — to supply the building, so I was unable to turn in my move-in checklist within 24 hours as required by the lease.
When I phoned the maintenance department to ask about the status of repairs, a cheerful answering service took my message and then weeks passed by.
I finally filed a complaint with the Allegheny County Health Department and maintenance fixed the bathroom window but the cracked caulking around the window and removal of moth pupa inside the windows was only addressed three months later.
The property manager allows the garbage to overflow, which I view from my kitchen window. The manager hasn’t addressed smokers in the building despite the lease forbidding it. The common areas remain unclean, the lawn unmowed. And then there’s the pesky problem of the pillars holding up the front of the building that are rotting at the base.
The property manager responded: “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
After I moved to Mt. Lebanon, I called MATP to ask about getting a ride to a neurologist in Monroeville. Otherwise, I would have to take a train Downtown and wait around for an infrequent bus service that would take an hour to get me to Monroeville once I finally boarded. I thought the 40-mile round trip — with all its laborious connections — would meet the requirements for a medical ride, but no. Because the clinic was only a 10-minute walk from the nearest bus stop in Monroeville, a MATP representative told me that I only qualified for bus tickets, which I could get from the nonprofit Travelers Aid.
I canceled the appointment and searched for another neurology clinic closer to Mt. Lebanon. Those clinics, however, either didn’t return my calls or weren’t taking new patients. I found a neurologist in Oakland — not as far as Monroeville — but I still had to hope that the transit was running on time, and that I didn’t make the trip during a downpour or an electrical storm.
When I aired my concerns, the county repeated some version of “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Judging from YouTube videos produced by Pittsburgh’s real estate agents and local documentarians, my original impression was that the city, with its 90 distinct neighborhoods and the former stomping grounds of Gene Kelly and Rachel Carson, was delightful. After all, the video hosts treated Pittsburgh like a comeback kid that became the most livable city in the United States. I thought of the underdog Rocky slogging up those stairs in Philadelphia, only this was Pittsburgh.
Patricia Herlevi plans to go back to the Pacific Northwest in search of services and amenities she did not find in Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh will surely be very sad to lose such an upstanding transplant. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
The city I encountered is subject to unpredictable weather, smells like an outhouse on warmer days and exudes despair and inequality. I made the decision in January to sign a short-term lease and when it expires on June 30, I’m returning to Washington State where I have the support I require.
My impression of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County is that the public services don’t care. Many of the charities don’t care. The landlords don’t care. Many residents seem like they have given up, and I understand why.
Pittsburgh apologizes for the inconvenience.
Editor’s notes: PublicSource reached out to Pittsburgh Regional Transit and the Allegheny County Department of Human Services. Both agencies declined to comment on the accounts in this essay. Post-publication, this essay was amended to reflect the author’s recent receipt of help from the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, Dress for Success and the South Hills Interfaith Movement.
Patricia Herlevi is an energy-healer, astrologer and writer who ended up in Pittsburgh. She has contributed articles to the Brattleboro Reformer, Monadnock Table Magazine, Vermont Country Magazine and other publications throughout the United States and Canada. She advocates for social and environmental justice. On good days, she has a sense of humor and occasionally she enjoys a soapbox rant. If you want to send a message to Patricia, email firstperson@publicsource.org.
Editor’s note: PublicSource is dedicated to sharing a wide variety of voices. This first-person essay is part of a collection focused on the experiences of living in the Pittsburgh region. These essays highlight both the unique charm and the common struggles of our community. Discover more perspectives at PublicSource First Person.
Moving to Pittsburgh, even temporarily, was never my plan.
On April 2, 2022, I set out via Amtrak from Washington State to Vermont hoping to take my animal communicator business to the Green Mountain State. But the non-existent rental housing in that state caused me to cough up my savings and ditch my plans. As my funds dwindled, I had two weeks to decide where to go next — Ohio, New York, Indiana or Pennsylvania. I chose Erie, with its Presque Isle State Park and gemlike sunsets.
But 10 months later, after breaking my ankle and braving Erie’s limp economy, I found myself in between homes again. This time, though, I had neither reliable housing, nor the social service cushion offered in Vermont.
Patricia Herlevi, of Mt. Lebanon, outside of the Mt. Lebanon Municipal Building on May 7. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
The agreeable landlords from 10 months earlier had changed their tune. They were no longer willing to rent to me. I hopped between Airbnb rentals and a church, where eventually the reverend from Edinboro talked me into giving Pittsburgh a try.
Pittsburgh seemed attractive, at least in the photos that peppered social media posts. Yellow bridges spanned three rivers with skyscrapers gracing the background. I was intrigued by the Mexican War Streets, Squirrel Hill, Shadyside and Oakland, home to the iconic Carnegie-Mellon University, where my favorite musical — “Godspell” — was conceived.
But the Pittsburgh that appears on social media and the social ills of the real Pittsburgh share little in common. I wish that I had researched Pittsburgh’s air quality, which ranks among the worst of American cities. And perhaps a visit to test out the hilly terrain would have saved me future misery. Even Vermont was easier to navigate.
I’m from the West Coast, where there are reliable social services, efficient recycling programs and organic farms. I’ve realized that my health nut West Coast lifestyle just isn’t suitable for the Iron City.
Dystopian transit
For decades, I have advocated for alternative transportation centered on a reliable bus and train system. At first, I thought I would find that in Pittsburgh.That was until I rode Pittsburgh Regional Transit’s 61C from Oakland to Homestead and then had to walk more than a mile, mostly uphill, to West Homestead. A PRT round trip from Downtown to West Homestead took three hours. And prior to anyone telling me about the ConnectCard, I spent $2.75 each time I boarded a bus, even when my routes involved multiple transfers. A round trip to the East End Food Co-op in Point Breeze North didn’t just gobble most of my daytime hours, it drained my wallet.
A Pittsburgh Regional Transit bus stop’s re-routed schedule posted at Wood Street and Fifth Avenue on May 7. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
As the months wore on, I found that downtown Pittsburgh is riddled with construction and bus rerouting. The T stations are closed for days and platforms might be closed for weeks for construction projects. A Wood Street escalator rehabilitation project that was scheduled for completion in April is still ongoing, forcing me to find the stations with working escalators or elevators that don’t smell like urine because I have mobility issues. While at first I thought the trains were fun, eventually my ears grew numb from the repetitive messages about station closures, rerouting or the dystopian message about reporting abandoned packages: “If you see something, say something.”
And if I’m not already yanking out my hair, PRT expresses its concern: “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Greedy property managers
After several months of staying at Airbnb rentals owned by real estate investors and meeting overly caffeinated leasing agents with master’s degrees in gaslighting, I finally rented an apartment in Mt. Lebanon. While renting from a management company had been on my “absolutely no” list, I succumbed to desperation and the freezing weather of Pittsburgh in January.I signed a 17-page lease online that reawakened OCD behavior. Several pages laid out what a tenant was permitted and required to do in their apartment. For example, not washing dishes immediately or leaving dirty clothing on the floor were causes for eviction, according to the lease. Not reporting cracks on the plastered walls or failing to report cracks in the caulking could lead to hefty fees when vacating the apartment at the end of the lease. The lease also mentioned that I was expected to hire a professional cleaner upon vacating, despite the dismal condition of the apartment when I moved in.
The storage unit that came with the apartment was already being used by another tenant.
I had to change the name on my mailbox and I had to clean dead bugs out of the apartment. Allergic to dust, I pulled out the latex gloves to wash the filthy blinds. The property manager ignored my pre-move-in maintenance requests, and she didn’t provide a checklist on which I could record the many shortcomings. “Just type up your list and email it to me,” she said.
It took me three days to get internet service because the property management only allowed one vendor — Comcast — to supply the building, so I was unable to turn in my move-in checklist within 24 hours as required by the lease.
When I phoned the maintenance department to ask about the status of repairs, a cheerful answering service took my message and then weeks passed by.
I finally filed a complaint with the Allegheny County Health Department and maintenance fixed the bathroom window but the cracked caulking around the window and removal of moth pupa inside the windows was only addressed three months later.
The property manager allows the garbage to overflow, which I view from my kitchen window. The manager hasn’t addressed smokers in the building despite the lease forbidding it. The common areas remain unclean, the lawn unmowed. And then there’s the pesky problem of the pillars holding up the front of the building that are rotting at the base.
The property manager responded: “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Restrictions for medical rides
I was denied Allegheny County Medical Assistance Transportation Program rides to doctor’s appointments across the city, although this was never a problem in my home state. I suffer from Lyme disease, which on a bad day causes numb legs and vertigo. I also have tried to navigate the bus system while struggling with brain fog and chronic fatigue. You’d think any competent doctor would see balance issues and muscle weakness as a disability, but those I’ve seen refuse to sign the application that would give me some state-sponsored mobility assistance.After I moved to Mt. Lebanon, I called MATP to ask about getting a ride to a neurologist in Monroeville. Otherwise, I would have to take a train Downtown and wait around for an infrequent bus service that would take an hour to get me to Monroeville once I finally boarded. I thought the 40-mile round trip — with all its laborious connections — would meet the requirements for a medical ride, but no. Because the clinic was only a 10-minute walk from the nearest bus stop in Monroeville, a MATP representative told me that I only qualified for bus tickets, which I could get from the nonprofit Travelers Aid.
I canceled the appointment and searched for another neurology clinic closer to Mt. Lebanon. Those clinics, however, either didn’t return my calls or weren’t taking new patients. I found a neurologist in Oakland — not as far as Monroeville — but I still had to hope that the transit was running on time, and that I didn’t make the trip during a downpour or an electrical storm.
When I aired my concerns, the county repeated some version of “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Judging from YouTube videos produced by Pittsburgh’s real estate agents and local documentarians, my original impression was that the city, with its 90 distinct neighborhoods and the former stomping grounds of Gene Kelly and Rachel Carson, was delightful. After all, the video hosts treated Pittsburgh like a comeback kid that became the most livable city in the United States. I thought of the underdog Rocky slogging up those stairs in Philadelphia, only this was Pittsburgh.
Patricia Herlevi plans to go back to the Pacific Northwest in search of services and amenities she did not find in Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh will surely be very sad to lose such an upstanding transplant. (Photo by Benjamin Brady/Public Source)
The city I encountered is subject to unpredictable weather, smells like an outhouse on warmer days and exudes despair and inequality. I made the decision in January to sign a short-term lease and when it expires on June 30, I’m returning to Washington State where I have the support I require.
My impression of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County is that the public services don’t care. Many of the charities don’t care. The landlords don’t care. Many residents seem like they have given up, and I understand why.
Pittsburgh apologizes for the inconvenience.
Editor’s notes: PublicSource reached out to Pittsburgh Regional Transit and the Allegheny County Department of Human Services. Both agencies declined to comment on the accounts in this essay. Post-publication, this essay was amended to reflect the author’s recent receipt of help from the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, Dress for Success and the South Hills Interfaith Movement.
Patricia Herlevi is an energy-healer, astrologer and writer who ended up in Pittsburgh. She has contributed articles to the Brattleboro Reformer, Monadnock Table Magazine, Vermont Country Magazine and other publications throughout the United States and Canada. She advocates for social and environmental justice. On good days, she has a sense of humor and occasionally she enjoys a soapbox rant. If you want to send a message to Patricia, email firstperson@publicsource.org.
