Out of This Furnace (Regional)

by Thomas Bell

two bargeloads of Pinkertons had tried to land and take possession of the mill.

effectively kept from landing by the union men

Munhall station,

Duquesne,

Union men

Only a little disappointed—he felt neither like shooting nor like being shot at—he went in search of Andrej.

the union men had appropriated a small cannon

attempts to set fire to the barges and to dynamite them had both failed so far.

Andrej returned with news that the battle was over.

Ten men were dead, seven of them steelworkers,

This is accurate

John Sappo.

General Snowden

A notice was put up giving the men ten days to return to work,

The company sent eviction notices to all “striking” tenants of company houses,

bunkhouses for the accommodation of “blac...

Berkman

General Snowden's

W. L. lames,

Soldiers assigned, for no obvious reason, to duty in Braddock

Schwab

The union's leaders were in jail or out on bail,

Sarcasm!

Wold's saloon.

Dorta herself had recently moved across the tracks to a new brick row on River Street.

bad times had settled like a pall over the steel towns, and many things happened—

Coxey's

Question?

Elena rented the two rooms next door and took in boarders—

Very little self-awareness.

the company lost no opportunity to impress upon him that his services could be dispensed with at any time, that it was really doing him an enormous favor by letting him work at all.

So long as the workers are only individuals, that is entirely true. Hence the importance of organizing collectively.

Dubik

at once left the town, the ordinary, human world, behind.

Or giant’s breath. Simile

the eroded hillsides of North Braddock.

a dinkey

“Steve Bodnar,”

young Dobrejcak

Kracha and Dubik were front men,

American industry, for all its boasting, was still crude and wasteful in its methods; and part of the cost of its education,—of that technique it was, in time, to consider, somewhat smugly, as a uniquely American heritage, a gift of God to the corporations of America,—was the lives and bodies of thousands of its workers.

Kracha worked from six to six, seven days a week, one week on day turn, one week on night.

The long turn was bad but this first night turn coming on its heels was worse. Tempers flared easily; men fought over a shovel or a look and it was fatally easy to be careless, to blunder.

Usually he got drunk. Only whisky could pierce the shell of his weariness, warm him, make him think well of himself and his world again.

Hope sustained him, as it sustained them all; hope and the human tendency to feel that, dreadful though one's circumstances might be at the moment, there were depths of misfortune still unplumbed beneath one, there were people much worse off;

And there was always hope,

For a few

To others

The greater part went on from day to day feeling that all this was only temporary since such things couldn't last, that just before human flesh and blood could stand no more something would happen to change everything for the better.

When human flesh and blood could stand no more it got up at five in the morning as usual and put on its work clothes and went into the mill; and when the whistle blew it came home.

AUGUST'S rich heat baked the First Ward relentlessly, one hot, clear-skied day after another.

“Some game they play.”

“Tag”