Author Archives: Bobby Cherry

What is Pittsburgh without the Post-Gazette?

Like sands through the hourglass… the drama around the impending death of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette just keeps getting more convoluted.

On Jan. 7, Block Communications dropped a bomb on the region: The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette — a newspaper that’s been part of this community’s civic fabric for nearly 240 years — will publish its final edition May 3, and the entire operation will cease to exist.

This isn’t just another checkmark in the long casualty list of American journalism. This is the newspaper that defined reporting in Pittsburgh, that held power accountable and that offered depth few outlets even attempt anymore.

And soon, it will be gone.

How did the PG get here?

In July 2020, the Post-Gazette declared an impasse in contract negotiations with the Newspaper Guild of Pittsburgh and unilaterally altered employees’ terms of employment, including health care. (Federal labor authorities later ruled those actions violated labor law.)

That decision sparked a newsroom strike on Oct. 18, 2022, that stretched on for more than three years, officially ending Nov. 13, 2025. PG journalists had been without a contract since 2017.

More recently, a federal appeals court upheld a ruling requiring the company to honor its labor obligations. Block Communications sought a stay from the U.S. Supreme Court. When the justices refused to grant it, the company chose closure over compliance.

The scramble to save something — anything

Since the Blocks refused to comply with the ruling, local groups and individuals have announced a flurry of plans — to expand coverage, remind readers they exist, build something new or attempt to acquire PG assets to keep something alive.

Nearly 50 newsroom staffers who did not strike have called for new union elections and proposed either saving the paper or starting a new one.

Those 49 staffers appear ready to bend the knee. “In today’s media landscape, we must be realistic, not idealistic,” they wrote collectively, adding that they want to “change the tone of our union’s relationship with the Post-Gazette.” Because that has ever worked well for unions.

In a separate effort, former Penguins executive Kevin Acklin is attempting to line up investors to convert the Post-Gazette into a nonprofit newsroom. In an interview with Axios Pittsburgh, Acklin said he had a “good opening conversation” with Allan Block, CEO of Block Communications.

“We feel strongly that converting to a nonprofit is a very attractive alternative to shutting down the Post-Gazette,” Acklin said. “I am hopeful the present ownership group recognizes the importance of the paper to the ongoing vitality of our city.”

His full letter to Block was published in a WESA story.

Meanwhile, the Newspaper Guild of Pittsburgh has launched its own initiative — Pittsburgh Alliance for People-Empowered Reporting, or PAPER — aimed at carrying forward the spirit of PG journalism outside Block ownership. The union recently held a virtual meeting that it says drew 145 attendees, despite technical hiccups.

“You made it very clear that you’re eager for an alternative to the Block-owned PG — for something that authentically connects our communities and better reflects the concerns of working-class people,” the guild wrote in a follow-up message. The group plans a public launch in the coming days.

And if all of that weren’t enough, the Tribune-Review announced it will launch a weekend “Pittsburgh” print edition starting May 9. A weekly printed summary of news is not a daily newsroom embedded in the region it serves. Trib staffers are already stretched thin covering Westmoreland County, the Alle-Kiski Valley and whatever drives clicks online.

(Also: why this wasn’t launched before the PG’s closure is anyone’s guess — and speaks volumes.)

A fractured news ecosystem

Pittsburgh won’t technically become a “news desert” when the Post-Gazette closes. There are other news outlets — and operations masquerading as news outlets — that all provide some level of journalism or information sharing.

Public Source. Next Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh Magazine. CityCast Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle. Pittsburgh Business Times. Axios Pittsburgh. Plus television and radio: KDKA-TV, WTAE, WPXI, WESA and KDKA Radio.

None of them offers the depth, breadth or daily accountability journalism the Post-Gazette once provided. Some, in fact, often rely on the PG for their own reporting.

That fragmentation has been happening for years as the paper downsized following circulation cuts, ad revenue losses and Block dysfunction: Suburban weeklies reduced to ad circulars, websites with little original reporting, influencer feeds posing as news, PR firms pushing spin, communications teams rebranded as “content creators.”

You already have to work to find real reporting on Pittsburgh and Allegheny County. Removing the Post-Gazette doesn’t simplify the ecosystem — it makes it harder.

The PG’s decline also mirrors a national trend. Locally, the region has lost countless newspapers that once covered suburban communities, school boards and borough councils. With those losses went community calendars, nonprofit announcements and everyday civic information.

People used to look in one place to understand what was happening around them. Now they must subscribe to a patchwork of newsletters, Facebook groups and alerts — and still get less news.

Newspapers helped build community

“The local newspaper not only informs citizens but also helps build community among its readers,” Andrew Conte wrote in his 2022 book, “Death of the Daily News: How Citizen Gatekeepers Can Save Local Journalism,” which examined the closure of the McKeesport Daily News.

Conte references political scientist Robert Putnam’s “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community,” which argues that social capital — networks of trust and civic participation — has been eroding for decades. Putnam also found a link between newspaper readership and civic engagement.

Without newspapers, it becomes harder for people to share information, build trust and participate meaningfully in public life.

The trance we didn’t notice

Conte also cites media theorist Marshall McLuhan, who warned about society’s failure to recognize how new media reshape behavior.

“If we continue in our self-induced subliminal trance, we will be their slaves,” McLuhan said, referring to electronic media of the time — notably, television.

He died in 1980, three years before the internet.

Apply that logic to cable TV, video games, computers, smartphones, streaming, social media — and now AI. There may never have been a moment more hostile to shared facts and verified information than now.

A less informed public and fractured communities create fertile ground for misinformation, distrust and apathy. Chaos.

This isn’t nostalgia

I love news. I love newsrooms.

But this isn’t nostalgia. It’s a sober assessment from someone who’s worked in journalism and understands what quality reporting actually looks like — as both a journalist and a reader.

Pittsburgh’s civic discourse — what we know, what we debate, who we hold accountable — is poorer without its paper of record. In May, we’re going to find out just how much poorer.

60 years of sands through the hourglass on ‘Days of our Lives’

It was 60 years ago today, Nov. 8, 1965, “Days of our Lives” premiered, and the sands began slipping through the hourglass.

For some, that hourglass wasn’t just a symbol of a daytime drama—it was part of the rhythm of our lives. I grew up with this show. I grew up in Salem, in a way. The Bradys, the Hortons, the DiMeras—they’re not just fictional families. They feel like part of mine.

For decades, “Days” has been a constant. Through school days, college years, life changes, heartbreaks, illnesses, summer breaks and holidays. It’s been there.

And not just as background noise, but as a thread—a familiar presence that grew and changed with me. Every dramatic twist, every outlandish plot (every baby stolen, DNA switched, elevator shaft “death”) is a moment of real emotion that made its mark. And still does.

I remember Marlena’s first possession storyline like it happened yesterday. The absolute audacity of it. I’d never seen anything like that on daytime TV. The levitation. The eyes. The chapel scenes. It was over-the-top and absolutely unforgettable.

During a medical recovery years ago, I found the storyline pieced together on YouTube and relived every moment.

Then, years later, they “Days” did it again. And somehow, it worked—again. Marlena, the heart of Salem, taken over by the devil—not once but twice. Deidre Hall carried those storylines with elegance and fire, grounding even the wildest scenes in something deeply human.

And then came Will Horton’s coming-out story. The way it unfolded felt real, complicated, emotional. It didn’t just check a box—it honored a journey. Watching Will wrestle with his truth, watching Marlena support him, seeing that story handled with such depth—it meant something. For a lot of people, it was the first time they saw a version of themselves on daytime TV. For others, it was a master class in empathy. I remember watching those scenes and thinking: this show, for all its outlandishness, has never been afraid of telling human stories.

Then this year, we lost John Black, as Drake Hogestyn died in 2024. And for longtime viewers, that was a gut punch. John Black wasn’t just another leading man. He was the rogue, the anchor, the protector, the lover. His chemistry with Marlena was lightning in a bottle. When the show said goodbye to him, it was heartbreak on top of heartbreak. But it was also beautiful. Thoughtful. You could feel the love behind every scene, both from the cast and the fans. That’s what this show does best—it honors its own history and the people who helped build it.

Even the move to Peacock—controversial at first—ended up feeling like an evolution. There was frustration, sure. Watching a show that had been free and broadcast for decades shift to a streaming service felt like a loss, like something being taken away. But there was something gained, too. Freedom. Flexibility. The show could push boundaries again, try new things, be a little bolder. And somehow, “Days” found a second wind there. A new generation found it. Longtime fans stayed. We adapted—because that’s what fans of this show have always done.

And still, through all of it, nothing gets me like the Horton Christmases. The tree. The ornaments. The way each family member carefully hangs a name, a memory, a legacy. It’s a small moment, but it hits deep every single year. It always has. Because “Days” has never just been about love triangles and evil twins and wild plot twists. It’s been about connection. Family. Resilience. The way we carry on.

It’s also something I love sharing. One of the best parts of being a “Days” fan is connecting with friends who watch, too. Whether it’s texting after a Friday cliffhanger, swapping theories about who’s behind the latest drama or just laughing about a classic Sami move, those conversations add another layer of joy. We speak the same Salem shorthand. We notice things the other missed. We catch up, fill in gaps, revisit old storylines and carry the show together. It’s more than just watching—it’s a shared habit. A language. A bond.

Sixty years. And somehow, it feels both like forever and like no time at all. I think about all the people who’ve come and gone—on screen and off. The ones who’ve grown up, grown older, left the show, returned again. The ones we’ve lost. And the fans, too—the ones who’ve been watching since day one, and the ones who just started. We’re all part of this story now.

So today, I celebrate not just a show, but a legacy. A lifeline. A constant companion. “Days of our Lives” isn’t just television. It’s memory. It’s comfort. It’s home.

And I’m grateful—for every melodramatic moment, every ornament on that tree, every hour that passed through the hourglass.

Pride was born from resistance. That fight is far from over.

I was reminded Saturday that Pride isn’t just a party.

Pride is a reminder — of progress made and of the work that’s still very much unfinished.

While at the Pride event in Erie, Pennsylvania, I noticed that at least two boats at a marina next door had flags emblazoned with, “Trump won.”

Those flags and the meaning behind them are not patriotism.

Those flags are not about humanity.

Those flags aren’t about peace or love.

Those flags do stand for harm and hurt.

Those flags do represent evil.

While at the Pride event, I saw kindness abound.

I saw people sharing positive exchanges with strangers.

I saw people supporting their LGBTQ kids, family members, friends, colleagues.

I saw people who just want to exist without threats from Republicans.

I saw people who just want to exist without being told they don’t belong.

I saw people who just want to exist without their life being considered political.

I saw people who just want to stay alive.

Republicans have made it very clear: their agenda includes harming LGBTQ people as much as possible.

Republicans are rolling back LGBTQ protections at every level.

Especially for trans youths.

That’s not hyperbole.

And it’s not just happening with Republicans in Washington.

It’s happening on school boards, municipal governments, county councils.

These aren’t isolated incidents.

They’re coordinated.

Republicans are moving in sync, with direct marching orders — from small towns to Washington.

And LGBTQ people are paying the price.

Look around.

Book bans.

Drag bans.

Theater performances canceled.

Health care access targeted.

Businesses harassed.

Education cut.

Historical records erased.

Pride flags debated like they’re threats.

This isn’t about “just politics.”

This is about people’s lives.

And too many people are shrugging it off like it’s just more noise.

Supporting a party that’s actively working to harm LGBTQ people — at any level — isn’t neutral.

It’s not “just about the economy” or “just local.”

Republicans are connected to a broader playbook.

One that’s strategic, aggressive and deeply harmful.

The people doing harm are loud.

The rest of us need to stop being so quiet.

Not saying anything? That helps them.

Voting for the “nice” Republican on your school board? That helps them.

Supporting their businesses (Yes, even Chick-fil-A)? That helps them.

Acting like these issues are too complicated to speak on? That helps them, too.

What’s happening now is serious.

And if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it should.

From Drake Hogestyn to John Black: End of an icon on ‘Days of our Lives’

John Black’s death on “Days of our Lives” hit hard—not just because we lost a fictional hero but because of what it meant for the people who knew and loved Drake Hogestyn.

For nearly 40 years, John Black saved lives, beat the odds and always came home to Marlena. But his final act of heroism—saving Bo—was one he wouldn’t survive.

John Black was the heartbeat of Salem—the other half of one of daytime’s most iconic couples, and a dependable constant through the wildest soap storylines imaginable. Watching him take his final breath wasn’t just painful—it felt personal.

The way he died was classic John Black: Heroic, self-sacrificing and driven by love for family.

He fought to get the medicine Bo needed, making it back from another secret mission just in time to help Steve and Shawn bypass the lab’s security system. That final act was pure John Black—saving a friend no matter the cost.

Bo lives because of John Black, and in a way, that legacy is fitting. John always put others first. But knowing that his final moments were—in some manner—also a goodbye from Drake Hogestyn makes it even harder to watch.

Drake Hogestyn last appeared on the show in September and died a few weeks later following a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, which he kept away from the public spotlight. “Days of our Lives” films about eight months ahead, so, at the time, Hogestyn was leaving the show for medical reasons, likely planning to return.

He approved the storyline of John Black’s death, and that’s what makes this even more gut-wrenching.

Eric Martsolf, who plays John Black’s son Brady Black, said filming the funeral scenes didn’t feel real.

“It felt very unnatural to film a funeral of a character and a man who you knew was still with us,” Martsolf said in an interview.

By all accounts, Drake Hogestyn was a mentor, a father figure, a steady force behind the show.

I don’t think we’ll ever see a character like John Black again. He and Marlena were the gold standard for soap supercouples. Their love survived death, amnesia, possession and plot twists that defied logic—and it still felt grounded.

We didn’t just say goodbye to a character. We said goodbye to a legacy.

‘Small Town Setup’ misses mark by forcing real women into Hallmark movie tropes

Hallmark Channel’s “Small Town Setup” wants to be the real-life version of its most beloved movie plot: Big-city woman returns to her quaint hometown, realizes she’s missing love and finds it — handpicked by her parents and neighbors. But what plays like a romantic fantasy in a movie script feels far more intrusive and problematic in reality.

The show, which airs only on Hallmark’s streaming service, is a cringeworthy framework that’s rooted in dated gender roles and small-town idealism masquerading as universal truth.

Here’s the premise, straight from Hallmark: “An unsuspecting city dwelling single returns home to visit their small town parents, and is met with three potential dates. These suitors have been carefully selected by their parents and community, hopeful they will find love.”

Translation: You’re single, so your life must be missing something — and your family, neighbors and a Hallmark+ crew are here to fix that for you.

In the first episode, Victoria — a successful businesswoman living in New York City — visits her small hometown. She’s met with the suggestion that her single status is a problem, not a choice. Her parents, in coordination with dozens of people from the town, have curated three men she might date. That’s not matchmaking — that’s social engineering.

The process? The town nominates men. The parents narrow the field to three. Victoria then goes on dates while 80 or so townspeople observe and vote. It’s part community fair, part bachelor auction.

Her first date brings lemonade to a lakefront chair setup. She tells him she’s open to moving back “for the right person.” Cue the stereotype: That love is best found by leaving your independent city life behind and retreating into simpler, slower surroundings.

The other two dates — one at a mini-golf course, one at a crepe restaurant — are awkward. The conversations feel off, as if Victoria is performing openness while being trapped in a format that doesn’t leave much room for agency. She asks both men about their five-year plans, but we never hear hers.

At the end, Victoria has to choose. But before she does, Ashley Williams (the host) announces who the townspeople voted for. Then we hear who the parents picked. Only then does Victoria get to make her decision — in front of everyone.

She picks Michael, the first guy. They smile for the camera. And then the show just… ends.

The second episode starts the same way — a New York City woman heads home while her family searches for “Mr. Right.” I turned it off within minutes.

There’s nothing wrong with valuing relationships or even believing in the magic of small towns. But “Small Town Setup” doesn’t offer a heartwarming story — it offers a narrow view of what happiness looks like, and it reinforces tired tropes that women need saving and success isn’t enough without romance.