Growing up in northeastern, Pennsylvania, in the industrial husk of Scranton, I found refuge in an artsy cafe on Mulberry Street, just blocks from the University of Scranton, called Cafe Del Sol. Just about every weekend, I attended $5 punk shows there, featuring local bands with names like Dead Radical and The Riverdale Zombies. I also ventured to Wilkes-Barre to attend slightly larger shows at Cafe Metropolis and Homebase. It’s there where I saw larger acts such as Strike Anywhere, Catch 22, Bigwig, and so many more. By larger, I mean bands that at least frequently toured the tri-state area and sometimes, the entire East Coast.

Cafe Del Sol was really special to me because it’s the place where I found community, and all these years later, I’m certain it shaped a lot of my worldview. I attended poetry open mic nights. I heard punk rock activists namedrop Emma Goldman as they handed out zines. This was at least a decade or so before everyone in a cafe stared at their cell phones or laptop screens. People a few tables over interacted.

When I moved to the Philadelphia area, I found solace in places like the First Unitarian Church, which held punk shows every weekend, and still does sometimes. In fact, I’ll never forget when I was 20 and saw Against Me! play before a packed crowd in that church’s basement. For some context, this was only about a year or so after their debut, Reinventing Axl Rose, came out. I recall when the band invited everyone on stage for the encore of “We Laugh at Danger and Break All the Rules.” It was a moment in time. The fists in the air, the sweaty bodies, the gang vocals- it was a spirit and ethos.

I bring all of this up in the context of Pittsburgh journalist David Rullo’s stellar book Gen X Pittsburgh: The Beehive and the ’90s Scene. Though I live on the opposite side of the state and rarely visit Pittsburgh, I can relate to the scene that Rullo describes. I’m an older millennial, turning 40 in just two weeks. Though the Beehive opened in the early 90s, the artistic community Rullo recounts, once Scott Kramer and Steve Zumoff opened the coffeeshop, reminds me of the venues I attended in high school and then in college, pre-smart phone days.

Rullo uses his talents as a journalist to detail the Beehive’s opening, successes, and its closure pre-COVID. He interviews Kramer, Zumoff, as well as several of the coffee slingers, artists, and musicians who were regulars. The book also includes old photos and really cool flyers. He depicts a time and a place that’s really, really hard to replicate now. By the mid-90s, the Beehive was the place to be, long before Pittsburgh became such a trendy city, known for hip shops and microbreweries, topping several “Best Cities to Live” lists. Rullo notes how everyone from John Cusack to the Red Hot Chili Peppers visited the Beehive at one point.

While the book may be about a specific coffeeshop, it’s also about the rise and fall of an artistic scene and a moment in time that can’t be replicated, even if dozens upon dozens of other coffeeshops and artist studios opened since the Beehive’s heyday. Part of this just has to do with the alternative culture of the early and mid 90s, but it also has to do with the fact that we’re all wired now, constantly looking at our phones. Meanwhile, Pittsburgh, like Philly, has been incredibly gentrified. In the case of Pittsburgh, neighborhoods that once belonged to generations of steel mill workers are now occupied by high-end renters. In the case of Philly, working-class neighborhoods like Fishtown have been occupied by luxury condos and young professionals.

Even if Rullo’s book concludes with the Beehive’s closure and a reflection on its legacy, the fact Kramer and Zumoff were able to run two locations for so long is a testament to the importance of places like the Beehive and how certain places can foster community and artistic spaces. For me, growing up, Cafe Del Sol, Cafe Metropolis, the First Unitarian Church, and a few other venues, were really, really important. It’s where I connected with other artistic souls. It’s where I learned about activism and punk’s DIY ethos. Though I may have attended my own versions of the Beehive in the early 2000s, I can still relate to Rullo’s book, even if it’s Gen X.

For anyone who ever had their own Beehive, I highly recommend Rullo’s book. It’s a thorough account of the rise and fall of a scene, as well as a broader exploration of Pittsburgh’s growth and gentrification.