Pop Star: John Fetterman

You notice the tattoos first, pentimento boldface on his forearms, numerals, 15104, blighted, benighted Braddock borough’s zip code; 1/16/06, 10/8/06, 12/4/06, 2/3/07, local killings which took place on his watch. “It’s important to document what’s happened,” John Fetterman says. “I’d rather keep them on my arm than in my head. In the end, I hope I have more arm than ink.”

At six-foot-eight and 300 pounds, the Braddock mayor has plenty of arm left – and then some. Born in York, PA, equipped with a Harvard public policy MA, his introduction to Pittsburgh came in the ‘90s. Working as an Americorps volunteer on a Braddock youth program, when asked if he wanted to run it, Fetterman eagerly accepted.

By July of ’01 he had started, and still directs, a program helping area dropouts earn GEDs, then find jobs. Two years later, he plopped down two grand for a derelict furniture warehouse, across the street from the world’s first Carnegie Library (1887), converting it into his home.

Knowing that education programs alone would not change Braddock, in’05 he ran for mayor – expecting to lose. Instead, he won -- by a single vote. Crediting a younger constituency for putting him in office, “it was a way to advance their agenda,” Fetterman says. “I wanted to bridge the gap between generations, between those viewed as thugs and those considered out-of-touch. I’m comfortable with either crowd.”

These days he’s everywhere, opening a playground and a basketball court, adding to the 200-odd kids he’s helped get GEDs, working such real estate ventures as a Braddock Avenue urban farm and transforming the eight-story Ohringer building into an artists colony.

Hm. All this hustle and flow, all this sweat equity, for two-thirds of a square mile, 13-by-five blocks, 2,900-odd souls – down from a 1950 high of 20,000, and declining every day. A borough with 300 vacant homes, a quarter of which are slated for demolition, Braddock’s “loss,” Fetterman says, “has been catastrophic.

“Anyone who thinks upgrading Braddock is going to be easy is deluding himself,” he adds. “I, for one, am well aware of the difficulties. Rose-colored glasses don’t work out here. This isn’t Mayberry. Braddock will never be what it once was.”

But, he adds, it can be something. “We’re not distressed,” Fetterman says. “We’re experimental. We’re getting the word out that we’re open for business. We’re getting Braddock in the urban matrix. We’re telling people that we’re flexible and nimble – that they can create their own opportunity here. Now, Braddock is being increasingly embraced by folks unwilling to believe past reputations.”

Run again in ’10? You betcha. “I’ve got the best job in Allegheny County,” he says. “This is where I belong. This is where I want to stay.”

On his deck, Iron City in his outsized mitt, John Fetterman watches flames shoot 40 feet high above the hulking blue sheds of the Edgar Thomson works, Mr. Carnegie’s first steel mill (1873). “Braddock’s malignant beauty consistently appeals to me,” he says. “I can’t get over it.”

Award-winning writer Abby Mendelson is the author of numerous books, including The Pittsburgh Steelers Official History and Pittsburgh: A Place in Time. Ghost Dancer, a collection of short stories, is available at amazon and bn.com.