In Pittsburgh’s Hill District, history lives on every corner – in the echoes of jazz that once poured from basement clubs, in the memories of civil rights battles, and in the resilient spirit of its people. Nestled just above Downtown Pittsburgh’s “Golden Triangle,” the Hill District rose to prominence in the early 20th century as a vibrant, predominantly African-American community known as the “Little Harlem of Pittsburgh” . For decades, its bustling streets were alive with music, thriving Black-owned businesses, and a tight-knit community pride. But the Hill’s story is also one of upheaval and endurance: mid-century “urban renewal” projects wiped out entire blocks, displacing thousands of residents and casting a long shadow over the neighborhood’s fortunes . Today, the Hill District’s legacy of jazz, culture, and displacement offers a powerful narrative of community resilience – a story of rise, fall, and determined rebirth that continues into the 21st century.

In this article, we’ll journey through the Hill District’s rich history, from its origins as a multicultural enclave to its heyday as a jazz mecca and Black cultural hub, through the pain of the 1950s-60s displacement, and finally to the ongoing efforts to revive and honor this historic neighborhood. Along the way we’ll meet the legendary figures – musicians, playwrights, entrepreneurs, and everyday heroes – who shaped the Hill’s identity. This is the true story of a neighborhood that encapsulates the triumphs and trials of Black Pittsburgh.

(Before diving in, you might also explore our profile of August Wilson, the Hill District’s most famous storyteller, who captured much of this history in his plays.)

Early History: Immigrants, Migration, and a Community Forms

Long before it was famous for jazz, the Hill District was a patchwork of immigrant communities and Black migrants building a new life. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the hilltop area overlooking Downtown attracted waves of Eastern European immigrants – including Italian, Polish, and Jewish families – who established churches, synagogues, and businesses on its slopes . As Pittsburgh’s industrial base boomed, the need for labor during World War I opened opportunities for Black Americans fleeing the Jim Crow South. The Great Migration brought thousands of African Americans north to Pittsburgh; many settled in the Hill District, seeking steel mill jobs and a chance at better living conditions . By the 1920s, the Hill had evolved into a predominantly Black neighborhood, though vestiges of its multiethnic roots remained – old synagogues and cultural halls dotted the landscape, reminders of a diverse cultural mosaic .

Life in the Hill District during these early decades was defined by close-knit community life amid crowded conditions. Extended families crammed into brick rowhouses on winding streets like Wylie and Centre Avenues. Neighbors formed benevolent societies, churches, and social clubs. Despite poverty and segregation, a spirit of opportunity took root. Churches such as Bethel AME (the city’s oldest African-American church) and civic organizations provided support. The neighborhood quickly developed its own economy: Black doctors, lawyers, and shopkeepers served the community, as many white-owned establishments elsewhere in the city refused Black customers. This self-sufficiency laid the groundwork for the Hill’s cultural blossoming. By the eve of the Great Depression, Pittsburgh’s Hill District was primed to become a cradle of Black artistic and intellectual life, much like Harlem in New York – hence its affectionate nickname, the “Little Harlem” of the Steel City .

“Little Harlem of Pittsburgh”: A Jazz and Cultural Renaissance

During the 1930s and 1940s, the Hill District exploded onto the national stage as a hub of jazz, blues, and nightlife. On any given evening, live music poured out of clubs and bars along Wylie Avenue – the neighborhood’s main artery – attracting patrons from across the city. Legendary venues made the Hill an essential stop on the burgeoning jazz circuit . The Savoy Ballroom and Granada Theater hosted big band dances and vaudeville shows; the Hurricane Lounge jammed until dawn with bebop and blues. Most famous of all was the Crawford Grill, a Hill District institution that became synonymous with Pittsburgh jazz.

The Hill’s nightlife earned an almost mythical status. According to one documentary, “from the 1930s to the 1950s, the Hill District emerged as one of the most prosperous and influential Black communities in America.” On weekend nights, revelers of all races – though primarily Black – packed the clubs “soaking in the music” and energy . Segregation was the rule in most of Pittsburgh, but in the Hill’s music halls, an inclusive atmosphere often prevailed. “All the politicians, black and white, came through the Crawford Grill at one time or another,” locals recalled . The Hill District’s cultural scene fostered not only entertainment but also artistic innovation. Young talents like Mary Lou Williams (who would become a famed jazz pianist and composer) and Erroll Garner cut their teeth in Hill District clubs. Even Billy Strayhorn, a teenager from nearby Homewood, found inspiration in the Hill’s musical milieu – he would later join Duke Ellington’s orchestra and compose classics like “Take the ‘A’ Train,” carrying a piece of Pittsburgh’s jazz sensibility to the world. The Hill District’s “sound” – a blend of swing, bebop, blues, and gospel – left an indelible mark on American music.

Yet it wasn’t only music that defined the Hill’s cultural renaissance. The arts flourished in many forms. In 1941, a trailblazing music teacher named Mary Cardwell Dawson founded the National Negro Opera Company (NNOC) in Pittsburgh, determined to bring classical opera to Black audiences and performers. Operating initially out of a home in the Hill District, Dawson’s company trained Black singers and staged full operas at venues like downtown’s Syria Mosque . This was the first Black opera company in the nation, and it provided rare opportunities for African-American artists to perform classical repertoire. Dawson’s efforts would eventually gain national recognition – she even earned an appointment to President Kennedy’s National Arts Council in the 1960s . Her work, alongside the Hill’s thriving jazz scene, showcased the breadth of Black culture being cultivated in this community – from swinging jazz joints to arias and classical music training.

Prosperity and Pride: Business, Sports, and Media in the Hill’s Heyday

By the 1940s, the Hill District was not just a nightlife capital but a self-sustaining Black metropolis brimming with entrepreneurship, athletics, and media influence. In an era when opportunities for African Americans were limited by segregation, the Hill nurtured its own institutions and celebrated its own heroes:

• Journalism and Intellectual Life: The neighborhood was home to the headquarters of The Pittsburgh Courier, proudly known as “America’s Greatest Weekly.” In its mid-20th century prime, the Courier was one of the nation’s most widely read Black newspapers, boasting a circulation over 250,000 . From its Hill District offices, editor Robert L. Vann and his staff published fearless reporting and commentary that resonated with Black readers nationwide. The Courier campaigned for civil rights, advocated for the integration of baseball, and even influenced national politics (famously helping shift Black voters’ allegiance to FDR in the 1930s). Roaming the Hill with his Speed Graphic camera was the Courier’s star photographer, Charles “Teenie” Harris, who captured thousands of images of daily life, celebrities, and ordinary residents. Harris’s photos – showing everything from nightclubs and church picnics to Civil Rights rallies – today form one of the richest archives of life in an American city , preserving the Hill District’s legacy in vivid detail. The Courier’s presence gave the Hill a voice far beyond Pittsburgh, solidifying its status as a center of Black thought and culture.
• Sports and Negro League Glory: The Hill District was also a hotbed of athletic talent and Black sports enterprise. In the 1930s, it became the proud home of the Pittsburgh Crawfords, one of the greatest teams in Negro League baseball. Under owner William “Gus” Greenlee – a savvy Black businessman who also ran nightclubs and a lucrative numbers lottery – the Crawfords fielded an all-star roster at their own stadium, Greenlee Field, built right in the Hill. Greenlee Field was the nation’s only Black-owned and Black-built baseball park at the time . Fans flocked to its grandstand to watch legends like pitcher Satchel Paige and slugger Josh Gibson (the “Black Babe Ruth”) dominate the diamond . The Crawfords won the Negro World Series in 1935, bringing pride to Pittsburgh’s Black community. Along with their crosstown rivals the Homestead Grays, they proved that Black athletes could rival (and often beat) any in the country – even as the Major Leagues remained segregated. The Hill’s football sandlots and boxing gyms also produced stars, but nothing quite matched the glory of those Crawfords games on a summer afternoon, followed by celebrations spilling into Wylie Avenue’s bars and streets.
• Black Businesses and Institutions: Walking through the Hill in its heyday, one would find a thriving commercial district dubbed “the Crossroads of the World.” (Harlem Renaissance poet Claude McKay bestowed that nickname on the Hill District for its bustle and cultural convergence .) Mom-and-pop shops, restaurants, and service providers lined Centre and Wylie Avenues. You could dine at Ma Pitts’ famous soul food café or grab a sweet treat at Nesbitt’s Pie Shop, both beloved local institutions . Madame C.J. Walker, the Black cosmetics magnate, even opened a beauty culture school in the Hill in 1909, training beauticians and exemplifying Black entrepreneurship . By the 1940s, virtually every need could be met within the neighborhood – groceries, tailors, movie theaters, and nightclubs – creating an insular economy where Black residents could thrive despite discrimination elsewhere. This economic vitality was coupled with community organizations like the Urban League, churches, and social clubs that provided services and a social safety net. The Hill District of this era has been likened to a “city within a city,” where African Americans wielded a measure of autonomy and collective power rarely seen at the time .

Indeed, by the post-World War II years, Pittsburgh’s Hill District stood as a beacon of Black success and cultural richness. Residents felt an immense pride of place. It was the kind of neighborhood where kids shined shoes on the corner for extra pennies, athletes and musicians became local celebrities, and everyone read the Courier to see who made the front page. However, just as the Hill District reached these heights of prosperity and influence, powerful outside forces were gathering that would soon put the community’s very existence at risk.

The Shadow of Urban Renewal

In the late 1940s and 1950s, the Hill District faced a threat not from lack of success, but from a city redevelopment plan that saw the community’s very vibrancy as an opportunity – and its dense “slum” housing as a problem to be solved. As part of Pittsburgh’s post-war “Renaissance” – a series of urban improvement projects spearheaded by Mayor David L. Lawrence and business mogul Richard King Mellon – officials set their sights on the Lower Hill District, the neighborhood’s section closest to downtown. They envisioned a grand civic development project there: a modern arena and cultural center to enhance the city’s skyline . In official rhetoric, the Lower Hill was described as blighted and over-crowded. One city councilman went so far as to claim “approximately 90% of the buildings in the area are sub-standard…and so there would be no social loss if they were all destroyed.” That chilling statement reflected the attitude of Pittsburgh’s leaders toward the homes of thousands of Hill District residents.

Originally, planners had eyed a wealthier white area (Highland Park) for the new auditorium, but community pushback there was fierce . Instead, they turned their attention to the Lower Hill, where political resistance would presumably be weaker. Backed by the 1949 Federal Housing Act, which provided funds to clear “slums” under urban renewal, the city declared a 95-acre section of the Hill District as “redevelopment” land . The majority of structures in this area would be razed. In theory, the plan promised new affordable housing and cultural amenities alongside the arena – but as Hill residents would soon learn, those promises rang hollow. No concrete relocation plan for the thousands of people who lived there was established . Homeowners were offered buyouts for their properties, yet the renters – the bulk of the population – received nothing for being forced out .

In 1955, the wrecking crews arrived, and the demolition of the Lower Hill District began. Whole blocks vanished in a matter of months. By the summer of 1956, some 1,300 buildings had been bulldozed . Around 1,500 Black families – more than 8,000 people – were evicted and displaced during this process . This was a staggering upheaval: it represented nearly 20% of the Hill’s entire population. The area cleared amounted to about 100 acres of what had been a bustling neighborhood . Residents watched in despair as bulldozers turned their shops, clubs, and homes to rubble. For many, it felt like “the destruction of a world.” Lifelong Hill resident and journalist Harold C. Lewis later described the community’s trauma as akin to losing a limb – a “phantom limb” that the Hill would continue to feel long after it was severed .

City leaders pushed forward despite protests. They touted the modern design of the coming arena – initially called the Civic Auditorium (later the Civic Arena, and eventually nicknamed the “Igloo” for its domed shape). When the gleaming stainless-steel domed Civic Arena finally opened in 1961, it was indeed an architectural marvel for its time – complete with a retractable roof for open-air performances. But to the residents of the Hill, that shiny dome covered a painful truth: it sat atop what used to be the heart of their community . The promised “superblock” cultural center never fully materialized beyond the arena itself. Aside from one luxury apartment building, the rest of the cleared Lower Hill became mostly surface parking lots catering to arena patrons . Rather than sparking new development for the Hill’s benefit, the project physically cut off the remaining Hill District from Downtown – a gaping wound of asphalt and vacant land now lay where a vibrant neighborhood once thrived .

Displacement, Decline, and Resilience (1960s–1980s)

After the dust settled on the Lower Hill’s demolition, the remaining Hill District entered a period of steep decline – but also determined resilience. The social networks and economic engines that had sustained the community were severely disrupted. Over the next decades, the neighborhood’s population plummeted as families moved away or were relocated. From 1950 to 1990, the Hill District lost 71% of its residents – more than 38,000 people – and about 400 businesses closed or left . Those who stayed contended with increasing poverty and fewer resources. The once-bustling business corridors partly emptied out, and many homes fell into disrepair. By the late 1960s, the Hill District faced challenges familiar to many inner-city communities across America: rising unemployment (exacerbated by Pittsburgh’s industrial downturn), crime, and deteriorating housing.

Yet, the spirit of the Hill District was far from extinguished. The 1960s and 1970s saw waves of community activism and creative responses to the neighborhood’s needs. For example, when city services lagged or ignored the Hill, residents took action. One remarkable initiative was the Freedom House Ambulance Service, established in 1967. At that time, emergency medical care in Black neighborhoods was woefully inadequate – police would respond slowly, often just to haul the ill or injured away with basic first aid . In response, leaders in the Hill partnered with medical visionaries like Dr. Peter Safar to train local African Americans as skilled paramedics. Freedom House Ambulance became the nation’s first paramedic-staffed ambulance service, providing high-quality emergency care in the Hill District at a level never seen before . Staffed entirely by Black men and women from the community, Freedom House answered thousands of calls and saved countless lives between 1968 and 1975 . This pioneering program literally created the blueprint for modern EMS services nationwide – a shining example of innovation born from adversity. (For a deeper look at this story of heroism, see our upcoming feature on the Freedom House Ambulance.)

The Hill District also became a center of activism during the Civil Rights Era. After Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in April 1968, grief and anger sparked unrest in the Hill (as in many U.S. cities). For several days, parts of the Hill District experienced violent protests, arson, and clashes with police and National Guard troops who occupied the area . Over 500 fires were set during the disturbances, and dozens of businesses were damaged or destroyed. This turmoil further accelerated flight from the neighborhood, as some remaining white-owned shops never reopened and insurance redlining made rebuilding difficult. However, amidst the chaos came determination for self-determination. Hill District activists formed groups like the Hill District Community Council and the Black Action Society (the latter founded by students at Pitt) to demand political and economic empowerment. One iconic protest saw Hill residents, with NAACP support, erect a large billboard near the demolition border that defiantly read: “No redevelopment beyond this point – We want decent housing.” This grassroots pressure effectively halted the city’s plans to expand renewal into the Upper Hill. It was a small but significant victory: the community drew a line and said “We are here to stay.”

Amid hardship, the Hill District still produced culture and hope in these decades. Neighborhood leaders established the Hill House in the late 1960s by consolidating several community agencies – it served as a social services hub, offering everything from job training to arts programs. Music never completely died in the Hill, either. Jazz clubs like the new incarnation of the Crawford Grill No. 2 kept swinging into the 1960s, and local churches nourished gospel talents. The Hill even made contributions to popular culture; for instance, the television cop drama Hill Street Blues (1981–87) was said to be named after the Hill District’s reputation and character . And as dilapidated as some blocks became, the Hill’s sense of community identity persisted. Multi-generational families, even if scattered, still called the Hill “home.” Block parties, youth sports, and strong church congregations provided continuity.

Perhaps most famously, the late 1960s and 1970s in the Hill District gave rise to an artistic voice who would put the neighborhood’s story on a global stage: August Wilson. Wilson, a Hill District native born in 1945, lived the experiences of the neighborhood – the son of a Black mother and absent white father, coming of age in a time of segregation and later displacement . In 1968, as a young poet and playwright, he co-founded the Black Horizons Theater in the Hill District, setting the stage (literally) for local Black productions . Over the next two decades, August Wilson began writing what would become his magnum opus: The Pittsburgh Cycle, a series of ten plays – nine of them set in the Hill District – each depicting African-American life in a different 20th-century decade . Works like “Jitney,” “Two Trains Running,” and the Pulitzer Prize-winning “Fences” dramatize the very history we’re recounting: the fading 1940s jitney stations, the 1960s razing of the Hill, the struggling 1970s diners and barbershops holding on as the world shifts. Wilson’s characters speak with the Hill District’s humor, blues, and pain. Through his writing, the Hill District itself became a character – a place of trials and transcendent resilience . By the 1980s, August Wilson’s plays had gained national acclaim, and he emerged as one of America’s greatest playwrights, effectively crowning the Hill District as a touchstone of African-American history and culture. (Wilson once said, “I don’t write for black people vs. white people. I write about the black experience specific to Pittsburgh’s Hill District, and that becomes universal.” His success proved exactly that.)

Revival and Renewal: The Hill District Enters the 21st Century

Despite the difficulties of the late 20th century, the Hill District community never stopped fighting for a brighter future. Entering the 2000s, there was a strong drive to revitalize the neighborhood without forgetting its past. Community leaders, city officials, and former residents began collaborating on plans to restore economic activity, improve housing, and celebrate the Hill’s rich cultural heritage.

One early victory addressed a basic need: for 30 years, the Hill District had no full-service grocery store, leaving residents in a food desert . That changed in 2013, when a new supermarket finally opened at the Centre Heldman Plaza after years of advocacy . Neighbors rejoiced at being able to buy fresh food in their own community again. Around the same time, a brand-new YMCA opened on Centre Avenue (complete with a rooftop garden), signaling investment in health and recreation in the Hill . New housing developments also sprang up: obsolete public housing projects like the deteriorated Addison Terrace were demolished to make way for modern mixed-income townhomes (the rebuilt community known as Oak Hill). These efforts were aimed at improving living conditions while trying to ensure longtime residents could remain in the Hill.

Crucially, the 21st-century revitalization has focused on honoring the Hill District’s incredible cultural legacy. A group of investors and local leaders organized to restore the New Granada Theater, a magnificent Art Deco building on Centre Avenue that once hosted Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington in the 1930s . After decades of abandonment, the New Granada’s renovation is underway to become a cultural and arts center once again – a cornerstone of a envisioned “African-American Cultural District” along Centre Avenue. Just a block away, the green-and-white tiled façade of the Crawford Grill #2 still stands; there are ongoing efforts to resurrect the Crawford Grill as a live music venue and restaurant, reviving the jazz spirit for new generations. In 2022, another dream was realized: August Wilson’s childhood home, a modest brick house on Bedford Avenue, was restored and opened as the August Wilson House – a museum and arts space dedicated to his legacy and to Black art. This project not only preserved a landmark (the very steps where Wilson sat listening to Pittsburgh pirates games and neighborhood stories), but also created a source of pride and educational opportunity for the community.

Parallel to neighborhood-led initiatives, the Hill District has also been a key part of larger development conversations in Pittsburgh. After the Civic Arena (renamed Mellon Arena in later years) closed in 2010 and was demolished in 2011, a sprawling 28-acre blank canvas opened up in the Lower Hill. Debates erupted over how to use that land – essentially, how to right the wrongs of the 1950s by reconnecting the Hill District to downtown and ensuring current Hill residents benefit. A landmark Community Benefits Agreement (CBA) was forged in 2008 between Hill District leaders, the city, and the Pittsburgh Penguins (the hockey team, whose new arena was built just a block away). The CBA committed to affordable housing, jobs, and amenities for the Hill in any redevelopment of the Lower Hill. Progress was slow for many years, but by the mid-2020s, we finally see movement: the first new office tower (FNB Financial Center) has broken ground, and plans include a mix of commercial space and hundreds of new housing units on the old arena site. To literally bridge the gap, a “Cap” park has been built over the I-579 highway, reconnecting a pedestrian pathway from downtown to the Hill District. Opened in 2021 and named Frankie Pace Park after a revered Hill District activist, this park features public art and historical markers honoring Hill District figures like abolitionist Martin Delany. Where highway ramps once isolated the Hill, there is now greenery, walkways, and a celebration of Hill history linking it back to the city.

For residents, these developments are hopeful signs, but they also come with caution. The Hill District is determined to avoid a second displacement. Community councils remain active in shaping projects to make sure they include affordable housing, community spaces, and jobs for locals. Longtime residents – many of them children or grandchildren of those displaced in the 1950s – insist that the Hill’s revitalization must benefit the Hill’s people first and foremost, not just outside investors. It’s an ongoing balancing act: encouraging new investment and an influx of newcomers, while protecting the Hill’s identity and affordability. The term “revitalization without gentrification” is a common refrain at neighborhood meetings.

As of 2025, the Hill District stands at a crossroads of its own. The population is far smaller than its mid-20th century peak, and persistent challenges remain – about 40% of residents still live below the poverty line , and access to quality education and employment is an uphill battle. Yet, there is new momentum in the air. Young entrepreneurs are opening cafes and art galleries on Centre Avenue, even as stalwarts like The Pittsburgh Courier (now the New Pittsburgh Courier) continue to publish, bridging past and present. Community gardens bloom on formerly vacant lots. Each summer, jazz echoes again at the annual Jazz on the Hill festival. And in August Wilson Park (a recently refurbished park on the hilltop), families gather to enjoy one of the best views of the Downtown skyline – a reminder that the Hill District, high above the city, still holds a commanding perspective on Pittsburgh’s story.

Conclusion: A Legacy of Jazz, Culture, and Resilience

The history of Pittsburgh’s Hill District is a winding narrative of triumph, tragedy, and tenacity. This one neighborhood gave the world music that will never be forgotten, athletes and leaders who broke barriers, and art that holds a mirror to the American experience. It suffered a heavy blow at the hands of “progress,” only to rise again through the resolve of its people. Walking through the Hill District today, one can feel the ghosts of jazz legends in the bricks of old clubs, and also see the spark of renewal in murals and new construction. It’s a place where August Wilson’s characters, though fictional, feel utterly real – because they were drawn from real life in these very streets.

The Hill District’s story is still unfolding, but its lessons are already clear. Culture can never be bulldozed. The notes of Duke Ellington’s piano at the Crawford Grill, the headlines of the Courier, the shouts from Greenlee Field – they still echo in Pittsburgh’s collective memory, refusing to be silenced. And a community that stands up for itself can shape its own destiny; from the residents who protested in the 1960s, to those guiding redevelopment plans now, the Hill has shown the power of community agency.

In the end, the Hill District remains what it always was: the beating heart of Black Pittsburgh. Its history – of jazz and joy, of displacement and defiance – has become an integral chapter of the American urban story. As revitalization moves forward, the Hill’s past is lighting the way, ensuring that new generations remember what once was and imagine what can be. A neighborhood that was nearly erased is writing a new verse, with the same indomitable rhythm that has carried it for over a century. The Hill District, in all its complexities, endures – a testament to the enduring soul of a community.