Oil City, Pennsylvania, once thrived as a titan of industry, proudly bearing the title of the birthplace of the oil boom. Its downtown bustled, homes stood proud, and its hills echoed with the hum of prosperity. But over the past forty years, like many rust belt communities, Oil City endured economic shifts, population loss, and the slow erosion of its industrial base. And yet, despite this decline, a powerful current runs beneath its surface: the potential for renewal—driven not only by action, but by attitude and the words we choose to speak about the place we call home.
Words matter. They shape perception, both internally and externally. When we speak of a place as “broken,” “dying,” or “forgotten,” we build walls of discouragement. But when we use words like “resilient,” “transforming,” or “opportunity-rich,” we open doors to possibility. The narrative we tell ourselves and share with others is the blueprint from which renewal is built.
Oil City’s future doesn’t lie in becoming what it once was—it lies in becoming something new. And renewal begins with the collective belief that this transformation is possible. We’ve already seen the early sparks: artists and entrepreneurs moving in, downtown storefronts finding new life, and grassroots groups organizing around shared goals. But we must stoke these sparks with language that encourages, unites, and uplifts.
Attitude is contagious. When a community embraces a spirit of possibility—when people say “why not here?” instead of “that won’t work”—doors begin to open. Partnerships form. Investment follows passion. Young people, who might once have dreamed only of escape, begin to see a future worth staying for—or returning to.
The people of Oil City have always been hardworking, innovative, and deeply rooted in their sense of place. Tapping into that heritage doesn’t require massive outside investment; it starts with the internal decision to believe in the value of this community again. It starts with words spoken around kitchen tables, in city council meetings, on social media, and on the sidewalk downtown: “We can do this.” “Let’s build something here.” “This matters.”
A community is only as strong as its belief in itself. And belief is shaped by the way we talk about our future. This doesn’t mean ignoring challenges or sugarcoating reality. It means choosing hope over resignation, progress over pity. It means using language that invites others to join in, rather than pushing them away with cynicism.
Oil City is not a place past its prime. It is a place in transition, full of untapped potential, artistic energy, and human resilience. Our words are tools—use them to build.
Let’s tell the story of a community rediscovering itself. Let’s speak with pride, with optimism, and with intention. The next chapter of Oil City is being written now. And it begins not with a bulldozer or a grant—but with the simple, powerful decision to believe in what can be—and to say it out loud.
This message was inspired in part by two recent letters to the editor—both powerful reminders of the influence our words have on shaping community spirit. One letter challenges the negativity often aimed at new ventures, encouraging residents to uplift local businesses and recognize their potential impact. The other urges us to be mindful of how we speak about our hometown in front of young people, who are forming opinions about their futures and the value of staying. These letters, written by fellow community members, underscore the core belief of this piece: that what we say—about our town, our people, and our possibilities—matters deeply. Read the two letters below.
LETTER TO THE EDITOR, written by Kelsey May, published on June 19, 2025
Editor,
My dear neighbors, how many times do we hear (or maybe say) the following:
“We live in a dying area.”
“There’s nothing to do here.”
“Young people don’t want to stay here.”
“You have to travel for an elevated experience.”
Good news! Oil City is now weeks away from opening the historic bank in town that’s been made into a unique dining experience.
SideHustle has been popping up around the area for years, working to get their name out there and (pun intended) hustling, as a business trying to take flight.
However, what do I see as an overwhelming opinion out there? People complaining about “another bar” coming to town or saying they give it a few years until it’s out of business.
Nate Neely has purchased the riverfront property that used to house a hotel that has been nothing but an eyesore for years. He’s prepared to invest to build a new and exciting business that will elevate the downtown area.
Again, you would think people would be excited. What do I see online? A copious amount of naysayers complaining that it’s not what they wanted.
Here’s the thing. As a small business owner, I can tell you firsthand that there are people who will never be happy. Von Teese said, “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.”
Before anyone starts complaining or wishing these businesses to fail. I want them to ponder the following things:
1. Who do you think supports your local fundraisers? The local sports teams? That’s right. The small businesses of Venango County. When anyone wishes them failure, they’re hurting more than just them.
2. Do you have a plan or investment to help boost the local economy? If not, hush. Send the people who do some good vibes.
I cannot wait to watch these new businesses thrive. I know when they succeed, they’ll help the businesses that already exist within the city, too.
We thrive when we support others. Try positivity, it’s good for our health and the economy.
— Kelsey May, Oil City
LETTER TO THE EDITOR, written by Ashley Zaccari, published on June 9, 2025
Editor,
Graduation season is a time filled with excitement and hope. It’s also a time when young people are listening closely — to speeches, to advice and to the ways their community speaks about the place they come from.
Be Here Venango, which is a program of the Venango Area Chamber of Commerce, often reflects on a simple but powerful truth: our words matter.
The way we talk about our community, especially in front of our youths, has a lasting impact. When we say things like “You need to leave to succeed,” we don’t just plant seeds of doubt — we unintentionally paint a picture that there is no path to success, growth or fulfillment here at home.
The reality is more nuanced — and more hopeful. We do want to encourage young people to explore, to learn from the world and to chase experiences that stretch and inspire them. But we also encourage and welcome them to consider bringing those lessons and ideas back home — to lead here, invest here and shape the future of our region.
For some, staying in Venango County simply feels right, and that is worth celebrating. It’s where their support systems are, where they see possibilities and where they want to make a difference. Choosing to stay isn’t about a lack of ambition — it’s about directing that ambition toward a place they love and care about.
Every time we speak about our community, especially to graduates standing on the edge of what’s next, we have a chance to affirm their value and the value of this place.
Our words can open doors — or close them. They can inspire pride — or doubt. They can build up — or discourage.
Let’s be thoughtful with the message we send. Let’s talk about Venango County as the kind of place where young people are wanted, supported and essential — whether they return in four years or never leave at all.
Because what we say matters. And our young people are listening.
— Ashley Zaccari, Franklin
Editor’s note: The author is manager of the Venango Area Chamber of Commerce’s Be Here program.
This article was published in the Venango Chamber’s July 2025 VenangoWorks! Newsletter.