Pittsburgh Would Gain By Losing Mayor Ed Gainey
A city gets the mayor it deserves, or so the saying goes. But what did Pittsburgh do to deserve Ed Gainey? His signature achievement – distributing recycling bins across the city – perfectly captures an administration more interested in progressive photo ops than policing broken windows. It’s like hiring an unlicensed contractor to repaint your Lawrenceville row house you’re hoping to flip to some unwary New York City carpetbaggers while the foundation crumbles beneath your feet.
Most of the hard numbers tell a damning story. Consider the shameful state of education in the city. Pittsburgh Public Schools employ 2,000 or so teachers for 20,000 students, a number that shrunk rapidly during the forced closures of the pandemic. Many of these educators pull in six-figure salaries while delivering Keystone Exam results that would eventually get them fired in any surrounding suburban district. The proposed $752.3 million school budget for 2025, which projects an operating deficit of $28 million despite plans to close a number of schools that hold together entire neighborhoods, might as well be printed on those recycling bins Gainey loves so much – it's that much of a waste.
Remember when Bill Peduto, who held office from 2014 to 2022, was considered one of Pittsburgh’s biggest mayoral disappointments? His greatest hits included a humiliating appearance on Undercover Boss (where he wore a fake mustache and struggled to lift a trash can), introducing D-list hipster bands like Guster, and rolling out the red carpet for Uber’s failed self-driving car experiment. Yet somehow Gainey has managed to make Peduto’s tenure look like a golden age of competence by comparison.
The truth about Gainey’s supposed mandate is especially revealing: he captured just 46% of the vote in 2021, hardly the progressive revolution his supporters promised and a victory almost certainly attributable to the fact that his subsequent general-election opponent, the hat-wearing Trump supporter Tony Moreno, peeled off 13%. That plurality is looking more like a historical accident with each passing day, especially as his administration lurches from one self-inflicted crisis to another.
The Matrix police staffing study fiasco and p-card scandal offer a master class in municipal mismanagement. First, Gainey’s administration somehow paid Matrix Consulting Group $180,000 for a police staffing study that conveniently claimed Pittsburgh had enough officers despite being 100 officers short of its budgeted positions. The procurement process was so suspicious it triggered investigations by both City Council and District Attorney Stephen Zappala’s office. Then came the p-card debacle: after the Parks Department director authorized over $20,000 in credit card payments to a previously fired contractor, the Gainey administration chalked it up to “honest mistakes” and refused to cooperate with the DA’s investigation until Zappala's office executed a search warrant. When the city’s defense amounts to “we’re incompetent, not criminal,” you know you’re in trouble.
Enter Corey O’Connor, whose campaign announcement sparked a risible mini-controversy on social media over his use of Mister Rogers-style typography. While a few social media warriors clutched their cardigans in performative outrage, O’Connor was busy consolidating support in the more affluent East End communities that Gainey needs to win in order to survive politically. The son of a beloved former mayor with extraordinary bouffant hair who died shortly after finally claiming the office he had long sought, O’Connor brings a decade of city council experience and something increasingly rare in Pittsburgh politics: basic competence.
Gainey’s handling of misbehavior by his subordinates deserves special criticism. His now-former police chief, Larry Scirotto, thought it was perfectly fine to work a lucrative side hustle as a college basketball referee, jetting off to Oregon for Big Ten games while Pittsburgh's river trails faced San Francisco-sized problems with the ever-expanding unhoused population that Gainey kept assuring everyone were no longer technically in the city’s downtown area (indeed – most are on the other side of the river). When questioned about Scirotto’s second revenue stream, Gainey defended it with all the conviction of a man trying to explain why the dog ate his homework.
The preservation of Pittsburgh Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA) as an elite magnet school while neighborhood schools face closure exposes the fraud at the heart of Gainey’s progressive pretensions. CAPA remains 60% white and just 29% low-income in a district that's 31% white with 64% low-income students overall. It’s well known as a publicly funded finishing school for families who can afford private music lessons given by teachers capable of making the appropriate introductions, complete with an audition system that might as well have a “privileged kids only” sign on the door.
The broader political winds suggest Gainey’s time might be up. When Republican Joe Rockey nearly won the county executive race and Stephen Zappala reclaimed the district attorney's office as a Republican in a county with a 2-to-1 Democratic registration advantage in 2023, it sent a clear message: Pittsburgh voters are tired of municipal incompetence, regardless of party label.
Perhaps nothing better illustrates Gainey'’s priorities than his approach to the 2026 NFL Draft, which calls to mind Peduto’s early spinelessness regarding the encroachment of Uber. When asked about resources for the event, he told KDKA Radio he offered Steelers president Art Rooney II “whatever he asked” from its depleted treasury. This came just before Rooney hosted a fundraiser for Gainey at taxpayer-owned Acrisure Stadium – a cozy arrangement with the local grandees that would make even the late Plunkitt of Tammany Hall, famed advocate of “honest graft,” lush.
Of course, O'Connor isn’t his legendary father. He’s merely an establishment figure who’ll likely restore the status quo ante Gainey, with greater emphasis on public safety and public services over more abstract greenhouse-gas goals and other windmills not worth tilting at. But after four years of watching Gainey hand out recycling bins while bridges crumble and schools close, even a return to baseline competence would feel revolutionary.
Pittsburgh stands at an oh-so-familiar crossroads, choosing between continuing managed decline under Gainey or the possibility of modest improvement under O'Connor. The recycling bins Gainey distributed might end up being his most fitting legacy – containers for all the discarded promises and squandered opportunities of his administration, waiting to be hauled away to the landfill of history. Whether O’Connor can deliver the hope and change that Pittsburgh and its ever-dwindling number of long-time residents desperately need is uncertain, but at least he’s unlikely to let his police chief moonlight as a well-paid basketball referee while crime rises, the homeless struggle to fend for themselves, and even more schools close.
