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Out of This Furnace
Out of This Furnace is Thomas Bell’s most compelling achievement. Its story of three generations of an immigrant Slovak family -- the Dobrejcaks -- still stands as a fresh and extraordinary accomplishment. The novel begins in the mid-1880s with the naive blundering career of Djuro Kracha. It tracks his arrival from the old country as he walked from New York to White Haven, his later migration to the steel mills of Braddock, Pennsylvania, and his eventual downfall through foolish financial speculations and an extramarital affair. The second generation is represented by Kracha’s daughter, Mary, who married Mike Dobrejcak, a steel worker. Their decent lives, made desperate by the inhuman working conditions of the mills, were held together by the warm bonds of their family life, and Mike’s political idealism set an example for the children. Dobie Dobrejcak, the third generation, came of age in the 1920s determined not to be sacrificed to the mills. His involvement in the successful unionization of the steel industry climaxed a half-century struggle to establish economic justice for the workers. Out of This Furnace is a document of ethnic heritage and of a violent and cruel period in our history, but it is also a superb story. The writing is strong and forthright, and the novel builds constantly to its triumphantly human conclusion.
424 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
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September 1, 2025
Out of the travails of the industrial experience of steel-making, the members of a tough, hard-working Pennsylvania family of Slovak-American heritage gradually learn to negotiate the difficulties and challenges of the steelworking world, and even to assert and vindicate their rights within that world. The three-generation process by which the members of the Dobrejcak family make their way forward as steelworkers, and as Americans, is at the heart of Thomas Bell’s 1941 novel Out of This Furnace.
Bell knew the subject matter of which he wrote. He was himself of Slovak-American ancestry (his family’s original surname was Belejcak); many members of his family had worked in the steel industry, and a number of them had died premature deaths because of it. Moreover, the Belejcaks had faced a great deal of ethnic and cultural discrimination because of their Eastern European heritage. Accordingly, the reader senses the passion with which Bell writes about his Slovak-American protagonists, emphasizing their dignity in the face of oppression and bad luck, and focusing on their status as the sort of unheralded, everyday working people whose work helped the United States of America to become the world’s leading industrial power during the 20th century.
Out of This Furnace works as a multi-generational saga, with three generations of this immigrant family facing – and either surmounting, or being overcome by – the challenges of American life. The first generation is represented by Djuro (George) Kracha, who comes to the U.S.A. from what was then the Slovak portion of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Arriving in the steel-making town of Braddock, Pennsylvania, and beginning his career as a steelworker, Kracha learns early the dangers inherent in the job; when an explosion occurs in one of the furnaces, Kracha sees that “The iron canopy above the furnace top had been torn loose from its fastenings and hung over one edge like a cap sliding off a man’s head….In the cavelike stockroom the skip hoist had just been lowered. A few of the men on it could still stand. Some of the others were so horribly burned that Kracha could only hope they were already dead” (p. 51).
Kracha starts his new life in the U.S.A. on a promising note; but the bad choices that he makes – engaging in an extramarital affair, and buying up lots of property even though he has no real talent for speculation – lead to his ruin. After his fall, Kracha is left to reflect that “I wasn’t in my own country, as they say. I was caught in things I knew nothing about” (p. 114).
The second generation in this story of steel-working immigrant Americans is represented by Mary Kracha, Djuro’s daughter, who marries a young steelworker named Mike Dobrejcak. The two both work hard, raising children and building their American lives under difficult circumstances; Mike experiences unsteady working hours, dangerous work conditions, and unfair treatment, but soldiers on nonetheless. In a passage that shows Bell’s appreciation of the virtues of the ordinary steelworker, the narrator describes Mike’s appreciation of the ordinary, workaday virtues of working people everywhere:
He had hated poverty and ugliness; he had resented injustice and cried out against that sin of sins, the degradation of man by man, believing the world held few things more precious than human dignity….He had felt that no human being need go without his portion of comfort and beauty and quietness; the world held enough for all and if some had less than others it was because men had ordered it so and it lay in men’s hands to order differently. (pp. 198-99)
As Mike seeks proof of the inherent goodness of humankind, the narrator approvingly notes, “It never entered [Mike’s] mind that he himself was all the proof and hope he needed” (p. 199).
In one of the novel's saddest moments, a sudden tragedy disrupts the attempts of Mike and Mary Dobrejcak to build their own American dream together. It is left to “Dobie,” a member of the third generation of the Kracha-Dobrejcak family line, to achieve more of that dream.
Even though any hint of ties to labor activism can cause a steelworker to be blacklisted by all the steel mills of Western Pennsylvania, Dobie moves into union work nonetheless. Suggesting that his fellow steelworkers have been setting their sights too low, Dobie says that the steelworkers should “keep hammering away for things that count. The hell with this crap about bowling leagues and more toilets. Keep hammering away for raises and vacations and no favoritism on turns. Act as though the E.R.P. was an honest-to-God union. Make a stink every time a foreman looks at a man cross-eyed. And never let up” (p. 345).
And Dobie is true to his word, standing up boldly to all sorts of attempts by the management of his steel plant to intimidate him into silence. This aspect of Out of This Furnace often brings me back to Bell's novel around Labor Day; it is a healthy reminder of the many times when labor activism has been the only thing that has induced some employers to treat their workers decently and pay them fairly.
Bell’s sympathy for the working people of the steel mills is re-emphasized in some of Dobie’s reflections toward the book’s end, as he looks at his wife Julie, who will soon be giving birth to their first child. Invoking the spirit of Patrick Henry, Dobie says to himself, “I want certain things bad enough to fight for them, bad enough to die for them….Give me liberty or give me death”. Dobie then reflects, in the words that give the book its title, “Out of this furnace, this metal” (p. 412). The steelworkers, like the steel they turn out, have been tempered and made strong by the fire that they have gone through.
This University of Pittsburgh edition of Out of This Furnace includes a helpful afterword by Pennsylvania literature scholar David Demarest of Carnegie-Mellon University. Demarest, whose scholarly research and advocacy for the overlooked literature of Western Pennsylvania helped bring about Pitt's re-publication of Bell's book, thoughtfully situates this 1941 novel in its time and place.
A great deal has changed in Braddock, and throughout Western Pennsylvania, since Bell wrote this novel. Much of the steel industry that once dominated the economic and cultural life of the region has long since decamped for other countries where steel can be produced much more cheaply. The 2013 film Out of the Furnace, with its impressive list of stars (Christian Bale, Casey Affleck, Woody Harrelson, Zoe Saldana, Forest Whitaker, Willem Dafoe, Sam Shepard), indirectly emphasizes the extent of those changes. While the title of the film evokes Bell’s novel, the two works have virtually nothing in common, except that they share the Braddock setting – a post-industrial rather than an industrial setting, in the case of the film.
But if one wants to understand the industrial Braddock of old, and the everyday heroism of the strong men and women who sought to make a life working the steel, the original book Out of This Furnace provides a thoughtful and well-crafted reading experience.
Bell knew the subject matter of which he wrote. He was himself of Slovak-American ancestry (his family’s original surname was Belejcak); many members of his family had worked in the steel industry, and a number of them had died premature deaths because of it. Moreover, the Belejcaks had faced a great deal of ethnic and cultural discrimination because of their Eastern European heritage. Accordingly, the reader senses the passion with which Bell writes about his Slovak-American protagonists, emphasizing their dignity in the face of oppression and bad luck, and focusing on their status as the sort of unheralded, everyday working people whose work helped the United States of America to become the world’s leading industrial power during the 20th century.
Out of This Furnace works as a multi-generational saga, with three generations of this immigrant family facing – and either surmounting, or being overcome by – the challenges of American life. The first generation is represented by Djuro (George) Kracha, who comes to the U.S.A. from what was then the Slovak portion of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Arriving in the steel-making town of Braddock, Pennsylvania, and beginning his career as a steelworker, Kracha learns early the dangers inherent in the job; when an explosion occurs in one of the furnaces, Kracha sees that “The iron canopy above the furnace top had been torn loose from its fastenings and hung over one edge like a cap sliding off a man’s head….In the cavelike stockroom the skip hoist had just been lowered. A few of the men on it could still stand. Some of the others were so horribly burned that Kracha could only hope they were already dead” (p. 51).
Kracha starts his new life in the U.S.A. on a promising note; but the bad choices that he makes – engaging in an extramarital affair, and buying up lots of property even though he has no real talent for speculation – lead to his ruin. After his fall, Kracha is left to reflect that “I wasn’t in my own country, as they say. I was caught in things I knew nothing about” (p. 114).
The second generation in this story of steel-working immigrant Americans is represented by Mary Kracha, Djuro’s daughter, who marries a young steelworker named Mike Dobrejcak. The two both work hard, raising children and building their American lives under difficult circumstances; Mike experiences unsteady working hours, dangerous work conditions, and unfair treatment, but soldiers on nonetheless. In a passage that shows Bell’s appreciation of the virtues of the ordinary steelworker, the narrator describes Mike’s appreciation of the ordinary, workaday virtues of working people everywhere:
He had hated poverty and ugliness; he had resented injustice and cried out against that sin of sins, the degradation of man by man, believing the world held few things more precious than human dignity….He had felt that no human being need go without his portion of comfort and beauty and quietness; the world held enough for all and if some had less than others it was because men had ordered it so and it lay in men’s hands to order differently. (pp. 198-99)
As Mike seeks proof of the inherent goodness of humankind, the narrator approvingly notes, “It never entered [Mike’s] mind that he himself was all the proof and hope he needed” (p. 199).
In one of the novel's saddest moments, a sudden tragedy disrupts the attempts of Mike and Mary Dobrejcak to build their own American dream together. It is left to “Dobie,” a member of the third generation of the Kracha-Dobrejcak family line, to achieve more of that dream.
Even though any hint of ties to labor activism can cause a steelworker to be blacklisted by all the steel mills of Western Pennsylvania, Dobie moves into union work nonetheless. Suggesting that his fellow steelworkers have been setting their sights too low, Dobie says that the steelworkers should “keep hammering away for things that count. The hell with this crap about bowling leagues and more toilets. Keep hammering away for raises and vacations and no favoritism on turns. Act as though the E.R.P. was an honest-to-God union. Make a stink every time a foreman looks at a man cross-eyed. And never let up” (p. 345).
And Dobie is true to his word, standing up boldly to all sorts of attempts by the management of his steel plant to intimidate him into silence. This aspect of Out of This Furnace often brings me back to Bell's novel around Labor Day; it is a healthy reminder of the many times when labor activism has been the only thing that has induced some employers to treat their workers decently and pay them fairly.
Bell’s sympathy for the working people of the steel mills is re-emphasized in some of Dobie’s reflections toward the book’s end, as he looks at his wife Julie, who will soon be giving birth to their first child. Invoking the spirit of Patrick Henry, Dobie says to himself, “I want certain things bad enough to fight for them, bad enough to die for them….Give me liberty or give me death”. Dobie then reflects, in the words that give the book its title, “Out of this furnace, this metal” (p. 412). The steelworkers, like the steel they turn out, have been tempered and made strong by the fire that they have gone through.
This University of Pittsburgh edition of Out of This Furnace includes a helpful afterword by Pennsylvania literature scholar David Demarest of Carnegie-Mellon University. Demarest, whose scholarly research and advocacy for the overlooked literature of Western Pennsylvania helped bring about Pitt's re-publication of Bell's book, thoughtfully situates this 1941 novel in its time and place.
A great deal has changed in Braddock, and throughout Western Pennsylvania, since Bell wrote this novel. Much of the steel industry that once dominated the economic and cultural life of the region has long since decamped for other countries where steel can be produced much more cheaply. The 2013 film Out of the Furnace, with its impressive list of stars (Christian Bale, Casey Affleck, Woody Harrelson, Zoe Saldana, Forest Whitaker, Willem Dafoe, Sam Shepard), indirectly emphasizes the extent of those changes. While the title of the film evokes Bell’s novel, the two works have virtually nothing in common, except that they share the Braddock setting – a post-industrial rather than an industrial setting, in the case of the film.
But if one wants to understand the industrial Braddock of old, and the everyday heroism of the strong men and women who sought to make a life working the steel, the original book Out of This Furnace provides a thoughtful and well-crafted reading experience.
August 10, 2007
My Slovak relatives recommended this book because they thought it did an excellent job of capturing the Slovak experience in America (and, more specifically, in Pittsburgh). Even my dad and his cousins could relate to it--their fathers still worked in the mills in the 1950s and sixties (and in some cases, if they lived that long, in the seventies), everyone was in the union, grandparents and unmarried uncles and boarders filled the spare rooms in their homes, etc. It's not the most elegantly written book, but the story's certainly interesting, and it made me appreciate how rapidly things change, even in just a generation or two.
September 16, 2011
This book is the story of 3 generations of immigrants from Slovakia, who ended up working in the steel mills of Pennsylvania. It's written in novel form, but it's basically the biography of the author's family.
The conditions in the mills in the late 1800's and early 1900's were hell on earth. These men worked 12 hour shifts 7 days a week, and once every two weeks, worked a 24 hour shift. The unions fimally came in decades later. There were no benefits, and in spite of 84 hour weeks, they made only enough money for poor housing and food. A lot of the wives took in boarders to help out. After Andrew Carnegie managed to defeat the early unions, he then built a library in town. Go figure.
The other interesting aspect was that they were nmembers of the "Greek Catholic" church, which is an Eastern Rite Catholic .Church that is affiliated with Rome now, but for centuries, was geographically separated. This is the church that is shown in the wedding in The Deer Hunter. I had assumed that church was Orthodox and hadn't heard of "Greek Catholic" before.
The conditions in the mills in the late 1800's and early 1900's were hell on earth. These men worked 12 hour shifts 7 days a week, and once every two weeks, worked a 24 hour shift. The unions fimally came in decades later. There were no benefits, and in spite of 84 hour weeks, they made only enough money for poor housing and food. A lot of the wives took in boarders to help out. After Andrew Carnegie managed to defeat the early unions, he then built a library in town. Go figure.
The other interesting aspect was that they were nmembers of the "Greek Catholic" church, which is an Eastern Rite Catholic .Church that is affiliated with Rome now, but for centuries, was geographically separated. This is the church that is shown in the wedding in The Deer Hunter. I had assumed that church was Orthodox and hadn't heard of "Greek Catholic" before.
June 17, 2009
A historical novel that educates while telling its story. I learned more about immigrant and labor history from this book than I did from any immigrant or labor history textbook. If you're looking for the sort of novel that is high entertainment specifically, you'll probably be disappointed, as it's not that sort of book, but as a narrative that relates the struggles of three generations of a Slovak family in Western PA, it does exactly what it should be doing.
June 1, 2013
WORST BOOK EVER!!!!! The only reason I gave it two stars was because it had its facts straight, other than that; NEVER READ IT!!! I died each time I read this book, and I really don't want to put anyone else through my suffering!
June 20, 2024
Should be required reading for all high schools in the Pittsburgh, PA, area, if not in the country. Immigration, hard work, and class struggle are not new concepts. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.
First read (1990s?): 5 stars
Second read (2024): 4 stars
First read (1990s?): 5 stars
Second read (2024): 4 stars
May 10, 2011
This was a great book. It was suggested to me by some professors who knew that I grew up in Clairton, PA....a neighbor of the main locales in the book (Braddock & Homestead), and could appreciate the book's topic. I learned so much about the history of my birthplace in that ancestors didn't arrive to the area until the 1920s. This was how the mills broke the strike then...by going down South and recruiting poor Blacks to come work in the mills (this isn't directly told in the book at all...but you get an alluding to it when the Slovaks in the book start talking about "the niggers".
Growing up I heard many of the laments about the back breaking toil of steel workers. But this book shows you that it actually used to be much, much worse. The modern mind has a hard time comprehending the concept of a "paid slave labor force"; but this book helps you to understand. However it is interesting to note that Bell's personal ties to this novel (which was modeled after his own family) forces you to see things through the Slovak lens. The reality was that it wasn't always so cut and dry with the ethnic groups. Some Irish and Italians and Jews stayed down in the dregs with the Slovaks. From my Grandfather's perspective growing up in the 1920s as a little Black boy, the bottom barrel steelworkers were still pretty diverse. Although the upper eschelons of management remained pretty exclusive.
I enjoyed the 1st and 2nd parts of this book....which focused on Kracha and Mary/Michael. The section on Dobie wasn't nearly as engaging. So I don't know what happened there. Overall the book offered invaluable insight into the life of immigrants and steelworkers at the turn of the century inSouthwestern, PA. A must read for anyone who has an interest in the history of America's industrial age.
Growing up I heard many of the laments about the back breaking toil of steel workers. But this book shows you that it actually used to be much, much worse. The modern mind has a hard time comprehending the concept of a "paid slave labor force"; but this book helps you to understand. However it is interesting to note that Bell's personal ties to this novel (which was modeled after his own family) forces you to see things through the Slovak lens. The reality was that it wasn't always so cut and dry with the ethnic groups. Some Irish and Italians and Jews stayed down in the dregs with the Slovaks. From my Grandfather's perspective growing up in the 1920s as a little Black boy, the bottom barrel steelworkers were still pretty diverse. Although the upper eschelons of management remained pretty exclusive.
I enjoyed the 1st and 2nd parts of this book....which focused on Kracha and Mary/Michael. The section on Dobie wasn't nearly as engaging. So I don't know what happened there. Overall the book offered invaluable insight into the life of immigrants and steelworkers at the turn of the century inSouthwestern, PA. A must read for anyone who has an interest in the history of America's industrial age.
December 21, 2008
Again I want to give this a 3.5! This follows three generations of Slovak steel workers in the Pittsburgh area from 1880 to the late 1930's. This is the type of book that reminds me of where I've come from (my grandfather was born to coal miners in Ohio in 1899 who later moved to the coal mines of southern Colorado) and HOW BLESSED I AM. I am. Let me say it again: I am blessed. Grandpa I love you and am thankful for the sacrifices you made to raise your son to be a wonderful man and father. Would you ever have guessed your granddaughter would read about the steel factories from her apartment in China?!
May 16, 2009
This is the story of Slovak immigrants settling in Braddock, PA and working in the Edgar Thomson (and others) steel mill. It covers three generations. My husband was a third-generation ET worker. Knowing a bit about Braddock and the mill intensified the story for me. I could also relate to the Slovak, as my grandparents came from that general area. The doctor in the story had a name similar to my family name.
April 19, 2017
An excellent historical novel about the Western PA steel industry. Divided into three parts: the arrival of Eastern European immigrants, their lives and the lives of their families as these immigrants toiled to earn a living and sustain themselves, and the rise of the unions..this novel documents an important part of the region's history from the late 19th century until the beginning of World War II.
February 4, 2009
This is a really cool book. I have to read it for my US History class, but its amazing how good of a read it is. I'm very interested in the similarities between the characters and my own ancestors. My family came from croatia and hungary, and my great grandfather worked in the steal mills. It gives me a closer look into what their lives might have been like.
September 23, 2020
This has been on the reading list for far too long. I really shouldn't have waited so long to read this, sheesh. Anyway, while it offers a portrait of three generations of a Slovak family moving to and settling in Braddock, it's surprisingly relevant to modern America.
May 13, 2025
I’ve wanted to read this book since I first heard about it about 30 years ago. My mother had an uncle who died young from the PA coal mines. Thankfully, my grandfather chose the shoe factories of NYS. He met my Slovak grandmother. The Johnson’s of EJ shoe factories took much better care of the immigrants that worked for them. My grandparents retired from the shoe factory.
It’s hard to believe the prejudice and unsafe working conditions in the steel factories, never mind the ridiculously long working hours with never a vacation. Times were hard, people worked themselves to death at an early age. Well written, I’m pleased I finally read it, but I never heard the word “Hunky” slang for Slovak.
It’s hard to believe the prejudice and unsafe working conditions in the steel factories, never mind the ridiculously long working hours with never a vacation. Times were hard, people worked themselves to death at an early age. Well written, I’m pleased I finally read it, but I never heard the word “Hunky” slang for Slovak.
August 7, 2024
Continually getting to know Pittsburgh, this region, and our national history better. When I first moved to western PA I was overwhelmed by the small, dirty towns. I've learned to understand them, though. I've grown to respect a culture and a legacy that I may never fully love, but will always fully defend
December 28, 2021
read it for history class and it was incredibly boring and i didn’t understand a single word.
September 15, 2020
I really liked this story of immigrants who come to the U.S. and eventually get involved in trying to get labor unions organized in the mills in Pennsylvania. The owners and bosses in the factories give them the run around and the working environment is unsafe and they are poor and always struggling to make ends meet. These are hard-working people who never seem to get ahead but they keep trying.
100 years later, nothing much has changed....
The immigrants are from Hungary and Czechoslovakia, people who used to be called Bohunks or Hunkys or Honkeys. That's where a slang term for white people came from....
100 years later, nothing much has changed....
The immigrants are from Hungary and Czechoslovakia, people who used to be called Bohunks or Hunkys or Honkeys. That's where a slang term for white people came from....
April 18, 2024
This book was assigned to me in college for a "Labor in the U.S." class taught by Dana Frank. I forget what the exact title of the class was, but it was under American Studies. I didn't appreciate the writing or the depth of this book back then in my early 20s. But reading it again now in order to give it its due before donating it, I see the beauty and generous storytelling by the author. I'm pretty sure this book is out of print by now (probably) and so I think I'll keep it instead of donate it. I appreciate the author's characters, which, after reading the Epilogue, are based on some of his family members.
This is one of those instances where when I finish something, I want to find out more about these people - like finishing a streaming series and then wanting to watch interviews, behind the scenes, and bloopers just to get more out of it even though it's over. I felt so invested in the characters and the tragedies that befell some of them. I just really wanted things to work out for once. And in the end, things worked out better for Dobie than his predecessors. But isn't that usually the case for immigrants to America?
“He stared at her and hated her, less for what she was than because desire drove him to her and she, unbeautiful, unresponsive, whining, made it a bitter taste in his mouth.” pg. 23 [Kracha with Elena]
“‘There’s the kind of husband I should have,’ Dorta said, looking at Dubik accusingly.
He spread his hands. ‘I give her my whole pay, I drink only on paydays, I beat her no oftener than twice a week and still she complains.’
There was, Kracha admitted, no satisfying some women.” pg. 33 [patriarchal and misogynistic views from the late 1880s Slovak immigrants to Pennsylvania]
“In Homestead Kracha had helped produce steel plates from red-hot slabs; in Braddock he helped produce the metal from the raw ore. He was a very minor factor in the extensive, highly involved process of supplying a nation with steel, though it cannot be said that he ever thought of himself in just that way. Mills existed to provide men with jobs and men worked in mills because they had to work somewhere. Kracha did what he was told and was paid for it every two weeks; his interest ended there. There was little about his work to make him feel it was important or necessary; on the contrary, 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.” pg. 44
“Kracha relit his stogie; he seldom smoked a pipe nowadays. ‘You listen to me,’ he said. ‘There are men in that mill who were born here, whose fathers and grandfathers were born here. They know more English than you’ll ever learn. And what good is their vote doing them? They have to work in the mill and eat dirt like any greenhorn. Let me tell you, I’ve been in America long enough to learn that it’s run just like any other country. In Europe your emperors and grand dukes own everything and over here it’s your millionaires and your trusts. They run the country to suit themselves, and don’t think they’re going to let you interfere every few years with your miserable vote. Get that into your head. Your vote means nothing. The company man [referring to a candidate running for President] always wins. If he isn’t a company man to start with he becomes one afterward; the millionaires see to that.’” pg. 66-67
“The implied denial of social and racial equality seldom troubled them; as Kracha once said, he had come to America to find work and save money, not to make friends with the Irish.” pg. 124
“He lifted his head. ‘I don’t mind work. I’ve never been afraid of work. But what have I to show for all my years of work? There’s so much that is beautiful and pleasant in the world; why must only poverty and meanness be our portion?’” pg. 195 [Mike Dobrejcak to Bodnar]
“Mike huddled on the doorstep with his face buried in his arms like a man overcome by despair.
‘All a man can be sure of is what he gets here on earth. He gets it here or he never gets it at all. Don’t comfort yourself that what you have to bear with in life will be made up by felicity in heaven, or that the enemy who harms you will be fittingly punished in hell, for what you get here on earth, whether it’s riches or poverty, happiness or sorrow, is all you ever get, and what you want or have merited has nothing to do with it. The pleasant days, the quiet places; the money jingling in the pocket, the cities and countries you would like to see, the things you would like to do—all this you enjoy here on earth or forever go without. There’s no making up what you missed, no going back; no triumphs for the long-suffering, no fiery torments for the evildoers. Nobody keeps accounts, and once the worms have finished with them the murderer rests as peacefully as his victim. For there is no God and it doesn’t matter how we live or when we die. Our work and our dreams, the good we did, the evil we suffered, the hope we kept alive in our hearts—none of it matters, and our laughter and tears and prayers alike come to no more than the howl of a dog in the night, heard for a moment and then heard no more.’” pg. 197-198 [effing poetic!]
“Her legs, brown from Sundays beside the Kennywood pool, were bare, and her dress was blue scattered with small white flowers. She wasn’t wearing much under it; her hipbones were prominent and her breasts shook gently when she moved, The sense of intimacy produced by her casual apparel was strong, making him realize all over again that she was here to stay, that she was his.” pg. 301 [I love the details here and the love story between them, that Dobie creates with his thoughts about Julie and their life together.]
“It was not as exciting as Dobie had thought it would be. The law in action appeared to be largely a dull, plodding business of questions and answers, objections, conferences, recesses. Watching and listening he realized why the Board’s investigators had gone to so much trouble to buttress the obvious. The company’s lawyers were politely incredulous of everything and surprised or shocked at nothing. After a while it seemed almost like a game in which what was said was less important than how it was said. A sentence would be carefully set up, everyone stepped back to a safe distance, and the opposing lawyers then attempted to shoot holes through it while both sides watched with a sort of detached, professional interest. . . .
Familiar names, Braddock, Duquesne, the names of people, the names of jobs and things in the mill, took on an odd sound. The place and the listeners made them hardly more than words, stripped them of most of their meaning. Sometimes he felt heartsick and discouraged because so little of what should have been communicated was coming through. What could all this talk of company unions and intimidation mean to people who had never worked in a mill or lived in a steel town? The company’s lawyers knew what they were defending but how could anyone here understand what the witnesses were fighting for? It wasn’t a game to them. They were awkward, their clothes didn’t fit, they perspired and used bad grammar; but sit one of those beautiful lawyers on a casting in the mill yard and surround him with steelworkers and how long would his starched linen stay unwilted? That was where a hearing of this kind should have been held, in the mill yard or in one of the First Ward’s noisome alleys, where words and names were actual things and living people, beyond any lawyer’s dismissal—smoke and machinery and blast furnaces, crumbling hovels and underfed children, and lives without beauty or peace. And not this or some other Government board, but a jury should have sat in judgment here, a jury of ghosts: Mike Dobrejcak and Mary and Pauline, Joe Dubik and Kracha—the maimed and the destroyed, the sickly who died young, the women worn out before their time with work and child-bearing, all the thousands of lives the mills had consumed as surely as they had consumed their tons of coke and ore. They would have known what the words meant. They would have known what was being fought for here.” pg. 393-394 [So passionate and beautifully worded]
“To the day of his death, no doubt, some nerve would twitch, some uncontrollable muscle flinch, at the word ‘Hunky’ used as an epithet; to the day of his death certain graces, certain niceties of taste and manner and speech would stay unknown to him or become him awkwardly, like borrowed garments. And by so much, in his own eyes at least, he would always be a poorer human being than he might have been.” pg. 409 [Dobie’s thoughts; beautiful in their tragedy of poverty and knowing that there is more out there that seems unobtainable/impossible.]
This is one of those instances where when I finish something, I want to find out more about these people - like finishing a streaming series and then wanting to watch interviews, behind the scenes, and bloopers just to get more out of it even though it's over. I felt so invested in the characters and the tragedies that befell some of them. I just really wanted things to work out for once. And in the end, things worked out better for Dobie than his predecessors. But isn't that usually the case for immigrants to America?
“He stared at her and hated her, less for what she was than because desire drove him to her and she, unbeautiful, unresponsive, whining, made it a bitter taste in his mouth.” pg. 23 [Kracha with Elena]
“‘There’s the kind of husband I should have,’ Dorta said, looking at Dubik accusingly.
He spread his hands. ‘I give her my whole pay, I drink only on paydays, I beat her no oftener than twice a week and still she complains.’
There was, Kracha admitted, no satisfying some women.” pg. 33 [patriarchal and misogynistic views from the late 1880s Slovak immigrants to Pennsylvania]
“In Homestead Kracha had helped produce steel plates from red-hot slabs; in Braddock he helped produce the metal from the raw ore. He was a very minor factor in the extensive, highly involved process of supplying a nation with steel, though it cannot be said that he ever thought of himself in just that way. Mills existed to provide men with jobs and men worked in mills because they had to work somewhere. Kracha did what he was told and was paid for it every two weeks; his interest ended there. There was little about his work to make him feel it was important or necessary; on the contrary, 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.” pg. 44
“Kracha relit his stogie; he seldom smoked a pipe nowadays. ‘You listen to me,’ he said. ‘There are men in that mill who were born here, whose fathers and grandfathers were born here. They know more English than you’ll ever learn. And what good is their vote doing them? They have to work in the mill and eat dirt like any greenhorn. Let me tell you, I’ve been in America long enough to learn that it’s run just like any other country. In Europe your emperors and grand dukes own everything and over here it’s your millionaires and your trusts. They run the country to suit themselves, and don’t think they’re going to let you interfere every few years with your miserable vote. Get that into your head. Your vote means nothing. The company man [referring to a candidate running for President] always wins. If he isn’t a company man to start with he becomes one afterward; the millionaires see to that.’” pg. 66-67
“The implied denial of social and racial equality seldom troubled them; as Kracha once said, he had come to America to find work and save money, not to make friends with the Irish.” pg. 124
“He lifted his head. ‘I don’t mind work. I’ve never been afraid of work. But what have I to show for all my years of work? There’s so much that is beautiful and pleasant in the world; why must only poverty and meanness be our portion?’” pg. 195 [Mike Dobrejcak to Bodnar]
“Mike huddled on the doorstep with his face buried in his arms like a man overcome by despair.
‘All a man can be sure of is what he gets here on earth. He gets it here or he never gets it at all. Don’t comfort yourself that what you have to bear with in life will be made up by felicity in heaven, or that the enemy who harms you will be fittingly punished in hell, for what you get here on earth, whether it’s riches or poverty, happiness or sorrow, is all you ever get, and what you want or have merited has nothing to do with it. The pleasant days, the quiet places; the money jingling in the pocket, the cities and countries you would like to see, the things you would like to do—all this you enjoy here on earth or forever go without. There’s no making up what you missed, no going back; no triumphs for the long-suffering, no fiery torments for the evildoers. Nobody keeps accounts, and once the worms have finished with them the murderer rests as peacefully as his victim. For there is no God and it doesn’t matter how we live or when we die. Our work and our dreams, the good we did, the evil we suffered, the hope we kept alive in our hearts—none of it matters, and our laughter and tears and prayers alike come to no more than the howl of a dog in the night, heard for a moment and then heard no more.’” pg. 197-198 [effing poetic!]
“Her legs, brown from Sundays beside the Kennywood pool, were bare, and her dress was blue scattered with small white flowers. She wasn’t wearing much under it; her hipbones were prominent and her breasts shook gently when she moved, The sense of intimacy produced by her casual apparel was strong, making him realize all over again that she was here to stay, that she was his.” pg. 301 [I love the details here and the love story between them, that Dobie creates with his thoughts about Julie and their life together.]
“It was not as exciting as Dobie had thought it would be. The law in action appeared to be largely a dull, plodding business of questions and answers, objections, conferences, recesses. Watching and listening he realized why the Board’s investigators had gone to so much trouble to buttress the obvious. The company’s lawyers were politely incredulous of everything and surprised or shocked at nothing. After a while it seemed almost like a game in which what was said was less important than how it was said. A sentence would be carefully set up, everyone stepped back to a safe distance, and the opposing lawyers then attempted to shoot holes through it while both sides watched with a sort of detached, professional interest. . . .
Familiar names, Braddock, Duquesne, the names of people, the names of jobs and things in the mill, took on an odd sound. The place and the listeners made them hardly more than words, stripped them of most of their meaning. Sometimes he felt heartsick and discouraged because so little of what should have been communicated was coming through. What could all this talk of company unions and intimidation mean to people who had never worked in a mill or lived in a steel town? The company’s lawyers knew what they were defending but how could anyone here understand what the witnesses were fighting for? It wasn’t a game to them. They were awkward, their clothes didn’t fit, they perspired and used bad grammar; but sit one of those beautiful lawyers on a casting in the mill yard and surround him with steelworkers and how long would his starched linen stay unwilted? That was where a hearing of this kind should have been held, in the mill yard or in one of the First Ward’s noisome alleys, where words and names were actual things and living people, beyond any lawyer’s dismissal—smoke and machinery and blast furnaces, crumbling hovels and underfed children, and lives without beauty or peace. And not this or some other Government board, but a jury should have sat in judgment here, a jury of ghosts: Mike Dobrejcak and Mary and Pauline, Joe Dubik and Kracha—the maimed and the destroyed, the sickly who died young, the women worn out before their time with work and child-bearing, all the thousands of lives the mills had consumed as surely as they had consumed their tons of coke and ore. They would have known what the words meant. They would have known what was being fought for here.” pg. 393-394 [So passionate and beautifully worded]
“To the day of his death, no doubt, some nerve would twitch, some uncontrollable muscle flinch, at the word ‘Hunky’ used as an epithet; to the day of his death certain graces, certain niceties of taste and manner and speech would stay unknown to him or become him awkwardly, like borrowed garments. And by so much, in his own eyes at least, he would always be a poorer human being than he might have been.” pg. 409 [Dobie’s thoughts; beautiful in their tragedy of poverty and knowing that there is more out there that seems unobtainable/impossible.]
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 1, 2019
Môj prastarý otec si začiatkom 20. storočia obľúbil pálenku tak veľmi, že mu v roku 1907 pre dlhy za pijatiku vzali dom. A tak v Brémach nasadol na parník Kronprinz Wilhelm a vybral sa do Ameriky zarobiť na nový. Kúpil ho priamo tam, od krajanov z rovnakej dediny, ktorí sa už do starej vlasti a starého domu nechceli vrátiť. Vyrástol v ňom môj starý otec aj môj otec a dodnes patrí našej rodine.
Keď som sa chcel dozvedieť o ročnom dobrodružstve prastarého otca v Amerike viac, nebolo sa už moc koho pýtať. Traduje sa, že robil v bani. Alebo v železiarňach. Určite v okolí Pittsburghu. A to je tak všetko.
A potom sa mi vďaka odporúčaniu srbského spisovateľa Vladimira Pištala dostal do rúk román Out of this Furnace. Napísal ho Thomas Bell v roku 1941 a je to krásny príbeh troch generácií rodiny Slováka Ďura Krachu, ktorý do Ameriky prišiel v roku 1881.
Usadil sa práve v Pittsburghu, v jeho štvrti Braddock, v časti First Ward, ktorá bola v tom čase takmer čisto slovenská. A tiež totálne špinavá a chudobná. Krachov zať Michal, jedna z najdôležitejších postáv románu, sa narodil v takmer rovnakom čase ako môj prastarý otec. Boli teda rovesníci (mali aj rovnaké krstné meno) a vďaka jeho príbehu som si konečne vedel predstaviť, čo asi môj prastarý otec v Amerike zažíval. A nielen to.
Thomas Bell knihu napísal do veľkej miery podľa skutočných príbehov vlastnej rodiny, bol potomkom slovenských prisťahovalcov, šarišskej rodiny Belejčákovcov. Často teda v príbehu zmenil iba mená. V doslove píše, že niektoré príbehy v knihe trochu zjemnil, pretože realita by v románe, paradoxne, pôsobila ako príliš bujná fantázia autora.
Out of this Furnace nie je totiž žiadny román o americkom sne. Slovákov (boli sme vtedy súčasťou širšej skupiny východoeurópanov a volali nás posmešne Hunkies) mali za špinavých a nevzdelaných divochov a zďaleka to necítila len prvá generácia prisťahovalcov. Podmienky v železiarňach boli ohavné, neprešiel mesiac bez smrteľného úrazu (V knihe si chlapi rozprávajú žartovný slogan - Nevyšlo ti to s jedom? Zamestnaj sa v našej dielni). Pracovalo sa aj 24 hodín denne v toxickom prostredí. A stále to nestačilo ani len na bývanie a jedlo pre rodinu.
Román vzdáva hold i ženám, ktoré brali do dvojizbových príbytkov aj štyroch, piatich podnájomníkov zo starej krajiny, aby prežili. A zodrali sa pre rodinu prinajmenšom rovnako ako ich v oceliarni pracujúci muži. V závere knihy, keď jedna z postáv narieka nad tým, že do slovenského First Ward prišlo veľa špinavých černochov - najmladší z rodu Krachovcov ju napomína - hovoríš presne ako Íri voľakedy o nás.
Amerika na prelome 19. a 20. storočia, to je pre mňa Dvořákova symfónia Z nového sveta. Očarenie z rastu oceľovej Ameriky a k nebesiam stúpajúceho Manhattanu nemá výstižnejšie tóny. Táto kniha vás ale z výšin predstáv o rodiacej sa veľmoci 20. storočia nechá spadnúť do pekla vysokých pecí (furnaces). Spolu s postavami sa potom postupne staviate na vlastné nohy v nerovnom súboji s oceľovými korporáciami.
Out of this Furnace má k tomu všetkému prirodzené dialógy a najmä uveriteľné postavy. Tak napríklad Ďuro Kracha si obľúbi americkú pálenku zvanú whiskey tak veľmi, že na začiatku 20. storočia mu pre dlhy za pijatku vezmú dom a…
Odporúčam nielen tým, ktorí tiež pátrajú po rodinných príbehoch svojich Amerikánov.
Keď som sa chcel dozvedieť o ročnom dobrodružstve prastarého otca v Amerike viac, nebolo sa už moc koho pýtať. Traduje sa, že robil v bani. Alebo v železiarňach. Určite v okolí Pittsburghu. A to je tak všetko.
A potom sa mi vďaka odporúčaniu srbského spisovateľa Vladimira Pištala dostal do rúk román Out of this Furnace. Napísal ho Thomas Bell v roku 1941 a je to krásny príbeh troch generácií rodiny Slováka Ďura Krachu, ktorý do Ameriky prišiel v roku 1881.
Usadil sa práve v Pittsburghu, v jeho štvrti Braddock, v časti First Ward, ktorá bola v tom čase takmer čisto slovenská. A tiež totálne špinavá a chudobná. Krachov zať Michal, jedna z najdôležitejších postáv románu, sa narodil v takmer rovnakom čase ako môj prastarý otec. Boli teda rovesníci (mali aj rovnaké krstné meno) a vďaka jeho príbehu som si konečne vedel predstaviť, čo asi môj prastarý otec v Amerike zažíval. A nielen to.
Thomas Bell knihu napísal do veľkej miery podľa skutočných príbehov vlastnej rodiny, bol potomkom slovenských prisťahovalcov, šarišskej rodiny Belejčákovcov. Často teda v príbehu zmenil iba mená. V doslove píše, že niektoré príbehy v knihe trochu zjemnil, pretože realita by v románe, paradoxne, pôsobila ako príliš bujná fantázia autora.
Out of this Furnace nie je totiž žiadny román o americkom sne. Slovákov (boli sme vtedy súčasťou širšej skupiny východoeurópanov a volali nás posmešne Hunkies) mali za špinavých a nevzdelaných divochov a zďaleka to necítila len prvá generácia prisťahovalcov. Podmienky v železiarňach boli ohavné, neprešiel mesiac bez smrteľného úrazu (V knihe si chlapi rozprávajú žartovný slogan - Nevyšlo ti to s jedom? Zamestnaj sa v našej dielni). Pracovalo sa aj 24 hodín denne v toxickom prostredí. A stále to nestačilo ani len na bývanie a jedlo pre rodinu.
Román vzdáva hold i ženám, ktoré brali do dvojizbových príbytkov aj štyroch, piatich podnájomníkov zo starej krajiny, aby prežili. A zodrali sa pre rodinu prinajmenšom rovnako ako ich v oceliarni pracujúci muži. V závere knihy, keď jedna z postáv narieka nad tým, že do slovenského First Ward prišlo veľa špinavých černochov - najmladší z rodu Krachovcov ju napomína - hovoríš presne ako Íri voľakedy o nás.
Amerika na prelome 19. a 20. storočia, to je pre mňa Dvořákova symfónia Z nového sveta. Očarenie z rastu oceľovej Ameriky a k nebesiam stúpajúceho Manhattanu nemá výstižnejšie tóny. Táto kniha vás ale z výšin predstáv o rodiacej sa veľmoci 20. storočia nechá spadnúť do pekla vysokých pecí (furnaces). Spolu s postavami sa potom postupne staviate na vlastné nohy v nerovnom súboji s oceľovými korporáciami.
Out of this Furnace má k tomu všetkému prirodzené dialógy a najmä uveriteľné postavy. Tak napríklad Ďuro Kracha si obľúbi americkú pálenku zvanú whiskey tak veľmi, že na začiatku 20. storočia mu pre dlhy za pijatku vezmú dom a…
Odporúčam nielen tým, ktorí tiež pátrajú po rodinných príbehoch svojich Amerikánov.
November 14, 2020
This book has been on my mental "to-read" list for fifteen years or so. It isn't widely available in local libraries, but I borrowed it through inter-library loan from the University of Nevada, Reno. Originally published in 1941 and reissued, with changes from the original, in 1950. Then it went out of print. The University of Pittsburgh Press wisely republished it in 1976. Though fiction, this book documents quite accurately life in a steel mill town from the late 19th century to the 1930s. It's accuracy is possible because of the semi-autobiographical nature of the book; the author, of Slovak descent like the characters, grew up in the very town that is the setting of most of the story. All this is revealed in an Afterword in the novel. I was interested in reading this because of the immigrant experience, particularly Slovak, that it portrays since I have great grandparents from Slovakia and my recent ancestors were part of the great wave of immigration to the U.S. during the 1880s to 1910s. But in actuality, that's where the similarity stops because no one worked in the mines or the steel mills or ventured beyond the New York City area. The hardship of the lives of steel mill workers is carefully narrated by Bell; I was given a new appreciation of the role of women who often supplemented the family income by providing room and board and worked constantly cleaning and cooking in cramped living quarters. The book is divided into four parts, each centering on a particular character and era. The final part ended on a note of hope; however, I thought the most effective and strongest writing was in the first three. The last section of the book focuses on the battle for union representation. In the final pages, the character Dobie contemplates the exploitation of not only the workers, but of the land, musing "...America was no longer...a beautiful land. Where...its deforested hills were being washed into the sea, or the soil of its plains was being blown in clouds across the sky...surely something could be done to make the present mills less of a menace to the public health, less of an affront to the eye." These words show Bell to be an author of insight and progressive thought for the time this book was written.
May 9, 2016
This book provides a very informative look into the steel industry that shaped the city of Pittburgh. It follows the lives of three generations of Slovakian immigrants who worked in the mills. While I found it very informative, I also found the story to be very slow moving. I also found the politics to be a bit confusing, and I almost think the author may have gone with what he had heard growing up rather than with facts (the author was a descendent of steel workers). For instance, during the Great Depression, the characters in the book blame the government and the Republicans for their troubles. Meanwhile, FDR and his administration reigned through the Depression, and they were Democrats. Also, the characters in the book slam Republicans for being members of the KKK. Meanwhile, historically speaking, the KKK was largely comprised of Democrats in the first half of the 20th century. Keep in mind, it was a Republican movement (the Abolitionists) that had freed the slaves, and Abraham Lincoln was the first Republican President. So, other than these political inaccuracies, I found the book to be incredibly informative. I also think it should be required reading for anyone currently living in America who has the audacity to proclaim that he or she is living in poverty. The Slovakian immigrants portrayed in this book would have considered themselves rich beyond measure to have lived the lifestyle of today's "poorest" American. Fianlly, I would have to say that the author seemed to spend too much time on the early stories of these immigrants while breezing through the unionization process that took place in the mills. This section of the story was one of the most interesting; yet, it seems as though the author wanted to hurry up and finish the novel and, thus, rushed this section.
December 12, 2021
If you've ever read a James Michener novel, such as Caribbean or Poland, you'll immediately understand what I mean when I say author Thomas Bell follows the same formula: the story of a place as told through the story of generations of a family. But unlike Michener, Bell is telling the fictionalized story of his own place, his own family, and in some respects the story of our nation.
The author's family name was Belejcak, but somewhere along the line it was Americanized to Bell. And this in a nutshell is the theme of the book: the struggle of immigrants from Slovakia, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Hungary to earn their right not only to a living but to be considered American, and to do it in the toughest conditions in railroad-building, steel mills, and the fight for dignity through unions in and around Pittsburgh.
Although it takes on the tone of a soap opera at times, Bell's book gives us real people, real struggle, real hurts, and real humanity.
And food for thought as to how this country deals with immigrants (and unions) today.
Worth a read.
The author's family name was Belejcak, but somewhere along the line it was Americanized to Bell. And this in a nutshell is the theme of the book: the struggle of immigrants from Slovakia, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Hungary to earn their right not only to a living but to be considered American, and to do it in the toughest conditions in railroad-building, steel mills, and the fight for dignity through unions in and around Pittsburgh.
Although it takes on the tone of a soap opera at times, Bell's book gives us real people, real struggle, real hurts, and real humanity.
And food for thought as to how this country deals with immigrants (and unions) today.
Worth a read.
March 17, 2022
I gave this book four stars instead of five because maybe it's not the best written work of literature ever. With that being said this book moved me like no other collection of words ever has.
Considering I am born and bread in Pittsburgh, and currently live in Munhall. Not to mention my Slovak heritage, and I'm the first generation of my family to not work in a steel mill. In fact being born in the early 80's my generation has watch the dismantling of the steel industry here in Pittsburgh and The United States in general.
This book felt like a chance hear the stories of relatives I was too young to meet. I also find it amazing how my political opinions match so closely that of the author. I almost shed a tear when Mike cast his vote for Eugene Debs.
I recommend this book for anyone with an interest in American immigration, the U.S. labor movement and especially anyone of Slovak heritage.
Considering I am born and bread in Pittsburgh, and currently live in Munhall. Not to mention my Slovak heritage, and I'm the first generation of my family to not work in a steel mill. In fact being born in the early 80's my generation has watch the dismantling of the steel industry here in Pittsburgh and The United States in general.
This book felt like a chance hear the stories of relatives I was too young to meet. I also find it amazing how my political opinions match so closely that of the author. I almost shed a tear when Mike cast his vote for Eugene Debs.
I recommend this book for anyone with an interest in American immigration, the U.S. labor movement and especially anyone of Slovak heritage.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 17, 2024
“All this was long happening, and was not accomplished without bitterness and conflict; but none of it ever got into the history books” (122).
Bell walks readers through a “fifty-year struggle to free the steel towns” from corporate abuse, which helped birth the U.S. labor movement of the early twentieth century (406). As he makes clear, contemporary workplace protections and union rights were no small achievement, and did not come because corporate overlords “suddenly got patriotic” (405). Instead, he presents the labor movement as a decades-long battle — one that claimed lives, and one that is deserving of deeper historical recognition. Underscored here is the role immigrant communities played in the broader history of organized labor, clearly a personal project for Bell as a Slovak American who grew up in western Pennsylvania’s steel towns.
This book made me envy a time when the labor movement packed more fury. Unions were still stonewalled by government officials and corporations, but something about the materiality of working in a steel mill laid bare wrongdoings and created an almost inherent solidarity among workers. It makes the decline of unions today a lot more troubling. Communities aren’t built around large-scale employers anymore, and the rise of the internet has created an immateriality in labor with worrisome long-term implications. I’m not saying the internet has made life worse for workers, but I do worry that the labor movement has failed to keep up with the contemporary moment, and that forming class-based coalitions has grown more complex.
Bell’s politics hold up shockingly well for a novel first published in 1941. He advocates for solidarity among workers of various ethnicities, “Scotch and Irish and Polish and Italian and Slovak and German and Jew” (384). (Notably, this solidarity is not explicitly shared with Black workers, although Bell acknowledges some similarity in anti-immigrant discrimination and anti-Black racism.) He also warns against the allure of class ambitions, recognizes gendered housework as labor, denounces big business and decries corporate harm against the environment. At times, these lofty political aims make his historical fiction feel more like a political essay, or a fable with clear-cut good guys and bad guys. It’s almost like Bell doesn’t trust himself as a fiction writer; he’s so worried you’ll miss the point that he’s content to hit you over the head with it again and again. But, for a decades-old story, this wasn’t a slog, either.
This was also fascinating to read one month after the 2024 election, a year and a half into my work as a journalist in West Virginia, a neighboring state with a strong union history itself. I think this book captures the legacy of industry jobs on the politics of Appalachia’s “white working class,” an ill-defined group that garnered focus from the fall of the “Blue Wall” this presidential election.
Class and industry are makers of identity. In Appalachia, blue-collar jobs haven’t just acted as a means of attaining economic stability, but also a form of accomplishment, of specialty, of overcoming obstacles and doing something in the world. People can be proud of their work, even if it might seem dangerous or diminishing:
“He grinned suddenly and murmured, ‘What are you trying to do, take the world over?’ Why not?” (409).
It becomes this legacy passed down through the generations of a region, built into its towns and cities, plus the families that call them home.
“But it wasn’t of the union… that he thought now. He lifted his eyes to the dark sky. ‘We’ve come a long way, hey Pop?” (404).
Still, I think there’s a way white labor gets treated both in this novel and in society more broadly that warrants closer examination. Again, Bell’s exploration of the labor movement doesn’t reach far across racial lines. In a lot of ways I see the glorification of European immigrant labor as part of an effort to incorporate new groups into white hegemony, and to curate whiteness around a shared “white working class” grief, whether or not a given white voter has done an hour of manual labor in their life.
It’s a big ask for Bell to think so many decades ago about the long-term implications of his class politics. But they are nevertheless inseparable from a broader white nationalistic project. Bell caps off his story with pages of sprawling, bootlicking, God-Bless-America flag waving, including the too-obvious pregnancy of a main character excited to bring new life into new America. The child is being birthed into a new labor moment, sure, but also a new era of racial politics where a new class of white people think they deserve their socioeconomic place more than the next person in line.
In a weird way, I think this circles back to the contemporary moment, too. Bell brings a lot of value to the conversation around labor organizing, around local politics and Appalachian history. He adds much less value to conversations about national politics, and fails to critique corporations and capitalism as intrinsic components of the American project; for him, blue-collar workers and labor organizers are the “real” America, and America is an unquestionable good.
Today, it feels like so much of American politics has dissolved into a partisan divide, with most people voting party lines down the ticket. Candidates in turn lose nuance that might make for more effective organizing on the local and state level. Bell repeatedly emphasizes the importance of activism. But, at the risk of sounding dismissive of blue-collar perspectives, I think Bell's particular brand of activism is more productive operating within the steel towns he knows best.
“If you’re making a living in this country you’re in politics whether you think so or not. People who never vote or say it’s a racket and things like that are simply getting the other guy’s politics, that’s all. The smart people go out and make their own” (365).
Bell walks readers through a “fifty-year struggle to free the steel towns” from corporate abuse, which helped birth the U.S. labor movement of the early twentieth century (406). As he makes clear, contemporary workplace protections and union rights were no small achievement, and did not come because corporate overlords “suddenly got patriotic” (405). Instead, he presents the labor movement as a decades-long battle — one that claimed lives, and one that is deserving of deeper historical recognition. Underscored here is the role immigrant communities played in the broader history of organized labor, clearly a personal project for Bell as a Slovak American who grew up in western Pennsylvania’s steel towns.
This book made me envy a time when the labor movement packed more fury. Unions were still stonewalled by government officials and corporations, but something about the materiality of working in a steel mill laid bare wrongdoings and created an almost inherent solidarity among workers. It makes the decline of unions today a lot more troubling. Communities aren’t built around large-scale employers anymore, and the rise of the internet has created an immateriality in labor with worrisome long-term implications. I’m not saying the internet has made life worse for workers, but I do worry that the labor movement has failed to keep up with the contemporary moment, and that forming class-based coalitions has grown more complex.
Bell’s politics hold up shockingly well for a novel first published in 1941. He advocates for solidarity among workers of various ethnicities, “Scotch and Irish and Polish and Italian and Slovak and German and Jew” (384). (Notably, this solidarity is not explicitly shared with Black workers, although Bell acknowledges some similarity in anti-immigrant discrimination and anti-Black racism.) He also warns against the allure of class ambitions, recognizes gendered housework as labor, denounces big business and decries corporate harm against the environment. At times, these lofty political aims make his historical fiction feel more like a political essay, or a fable with clear-cut good guys and bad guys. It’s almost like Bell doesn’t trust himself as a fiction writer; he’s so worried you’ll miss the point that he’s content to hit you over the head with it again and again. But, for a decades-old story, this wasn’t a slog, either.
This was also fascinating to read one month after the 2024 election, a year and a half into my work as a journalist in West Virginia, a neighboring state with a strong union history itself. I think this book captures the legacy of industry jobs on the politics of Appalachia’s “white working class,” an ill-defined group that garnered focus from the fall of the “Blue Wall” this presidential election.
Class and industry are makers of identity. In Appalachia, blue-collar jobs haven’t just acted as a means of attaining economic stability, but also a form of accomplishment, of specialty, of overcoming obstacles and doing something in the world. People can be proud of their work, even if it might seem dangerous or diminishing:
“He grinned suddenly and murmured, ‘What are you trying to do, take the world over?’ Why not?” (409).
It becomes this legacy passed down through the generations of a region, built into its towns and cities, plus the families that call them home.
“But it wasn’t of the union… that he thought now. He lifted his eyes to the dark sky. ‘We’ve come a long way, hey Pop?” (404).
Still, I think there’s a way white labor gets treated both in this novel and in society more broadly that warrants closer examination. Again, Bell’s exploration of the labor movement doesn’t reach far across racial lines. In a lot of ways I see the glorification of European immigrant labor as part of an effort to incorporate new groups into white hegemony, and to curate whiteness around a shared “white working class” grief, whether or not a given white voter has done an hour of manual labor in their life.
It’s a big ask for Bell to think so many decades ago about the long-term implications of his class politics. But they are nevertheless inseparable from a broader white nationalistic project. Bell caps off his story with pages of sprawling, bootlicking, God-Bless-America flag waving, including the too-obvious pregnancy of a main character excited to bring new life into new America. The child is being birthed into a new labor moment, sure, but also a new era of racial politics where a new class of white people think they deserve their socioeconomic place more than the next person in line.
In a weird way, I think this circles back to the contemporary moment, too. Bell brings a lot of value to the conversation around labor organizing, around local politics and Appalachian history. He adds much less value to conversations about national politics, and fails to critique corporations and capitalism as intrinsic components of the American project; for him, blue-collar workers and labor organizers are the “real” America, and America is an unquestionable good.
Today, it feels like so much of American politics has dissolved into a partisan divide, with most people voting party lines down the ticket. Candidates in turn lose nuance that might make for more effective organizing on the local and state level. Bell repeatedly emphasizes the importance of activism. But, at the risk of sounding dismissive of blue-collar perspectives, I think Bell's particular brand of activism is more productive operating within the steel towns he knows best.
“If you’re making a living in this country you’re in politics whether you think so or not. People who never vote or say it’s a racket and things like that are simply getting the other guy’s politics, that’s all. The smart people go out and make their own” (365).
December 19, 2021
This is a “must read” for anyone who has lived/grown up near Pittsburgh, has Slovak lineage, or whose family was involved in Pittsburgh’s steel Mills before the 1960s. Bell, who adapted his Slavic name, uses research and his family history to write about 3 timeframes. The first 3rd of the book is a fascinating narrative of the challenges of immigrants getting to Pittsburgh and finding work in the 1800s. The second section helps one experience the daily challenges of life of Slovak steel working families in the early 20th century. The last 3rd is more of an accounting of the drive for unions to help workers earn a living wage. Thank you Brendan and your Aunt Kathy for sharing this book with me.
February 27, 2011
To be honest with you guys, I give this book a thumbs down. I had to read this book for class and I did not like the general set up of the book and I found it to be bland and some what boring. If anyone wants to read this book I strongly recommend you to reconsider. If you are looking to read an action packed, life changing novel about European immigration then "Out of this furnace" is not the book for you. One of the many things I did not like about the story was the dialouge that the book lacked having. Each character wasnt given enough dialoge and descriptive text to match the characters potental for this book to have a sort of push to spice it all up.
February 14, 2007
We had to read this book in 11th grade in our history class. I loved it. It is an historical fiction account of three generations of an Eastern European family working the steel mills of Pittsburgh. A great insight into the divide between the rich and the poor, the American and the immigrant, the capitalist and the worker. A complex portrayal Andrew Carnegie, one of the fathers of the American Industrial Revolution.
February 6, 2021
I read this previously, in 1997, and gave it three stars out of five then. After my second reading in 2021, I have to give it 4 out of 5. An excellent novel, made more enjoyable and interesting by my own travels and explorations in the steel towns along the Monongahela River. The novel is fascinating in tracing an immigrant family's experiences in Braddock and the nearby area, as they struggle, generation after generation, to survive and overcome exploitation by the steel industry.
April 7, 2021
A story of steel mills and unions
My family is of Slovak ancestry; my uncles worked in the steel mills. I lived for a time in Pittsburgh. I knew how hard and treacherous the work was. But I never realized how much hard work and fortitude it took for these men from Eastern Europe to come and love in such awful poor conditions. How cruel the wealthy were . One learns this in history class but until one sees his ancestors in the story it is difficult to comprehend.
My family is of Slovak ancestry; my uncles worked in the steel mills. I lived for a time in Pittsburgh. I knew how hard and treacherous the work was. But I never realized how much hard work and fortitude it took for these men from Eastern Europe to come and love in such awful poor conditions. How cruel the wealthy were . One learns this in history class but until one sees his ancestors in the story it is difficult to comprehend.
September 21, 2007
This is a classic Pittsburgh novel, but also a very good novel for those interested in the late 19th century immigrant experience. It tells the tale of a steelworking family and their neighbors trying to make it in a hardscrabble and dangerous environment in what was then the booming steel town of Braddock, Pa. (now a virtual ghost town)
February 21, 2008
This book was good when I read it, but the more I thought about it the more its really touched me. This is on my "books I can't get out of my mind" list. Its about an immigrant family that comes to America and the struggles they go through after many generations of working in the steel mills. Sounds boring, but I don't know, just really touched my heart.
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