The History of Company Towns is the History of American Capitalism
History is depressing.
The thing about history is that, with the right vantage, patterns become readily, painfully evident. Socially and culturally self-defeating patterns. It’s not too surprising — history is a chronicle of human behaviors condensed, distilled and funneled into a never-ending, disheartening paean of our own glorious shortcomings.
Reading The Company Town definitely put me in a mood. It’s a fascinating, well-researched and well-written story about a seemingly innocuous topic — the history of American company towns, those urban centers built to provide housing and basic supports for workers at various industries. It was a new model that looked to England for inspiration; as the country moved from agriculture to industry, there simply wasn’t housing for laborers needed to turn the wheels of industry.
Chronologically, it begins in textile towns and ends in Silicon Valley (though, not necessarily a town, employers like Google provide all the accouterments an automotively-mobile society needs to drive in and stay at work all day and beyond). In between, there are coal and copper mines, logging camps, glass manufacturers, automobile manufacturing, shipbuilders and even the Manhattan project (near and dear to me after a recent tour of the Hanford site). With the exception of the latter (a government war effort) all of the towns fall along a spectrum — at least according to the author — between utopias and exploitation-villes. The utopian, paternalistic bent — characterized by, say, Corning — are the towns in which employees had hospitals and parks and schools as well as decent housing; the employers made an honest effort to lure folks in and convince them to stay and work, thus treating them fairly well. The exploitation bent — characterized by coal country — was more about trapping people far from other opportunities and using them up in horrible, dangerous jobs, featured clapboard shacks, no amenities, the threat of violence and salaries in scrip so they, as the song goes, would owe their souls to the company store.
The pattern that gets me down is how, in almost every case, even following the best of intentions, every one them eventually gave way to softening markets, increased demands on the work force for lower wages, which sparked attempts to unionize — usually met with violence, horrific strikebreaking activities, all leading to corporate plundering followed by massive layoffs and ultimately, towns abandoned and left to the rot.
The book opens in Butte, Montana, a city with which I have some experience, growing up thirty miles away. And mentions a town in Oregon, where I now live — Valsetz — that I need to visit. I was also pleased to learn what Permanente, in Kaiser Permanente means (it’s a California creek near where Kaiser opened a field hospital for those laboring in the shipbuilding yards).
All in all, a great, depressing read and good reminder of what unions accomplished, even as we see a system wide return to corporations limiting the rights of workers — and demanding more for less — and state governments, especially, ending the power of collective bargaining as jobs, opportunities and futures dry up.
As I mentioned, history is depressing. The history of capitalism is twice as depressing.