The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-08-11
In the Steel Mills.
Homestead as Seen by One of Its workmen in
McClure's Magazine.

dSheu IOi Woih, ne Sdiu, w Iit cau you
do2"
Anything. am large, strong, active
and willing. have been about machinery
all my life and want work badly
He touched a button, and boy appear
ed. "Show this man down to the convert
ing mill and ask Fred if he can do anything
for him. Good morning!" he said, and my
interview was over.
put on my new overalls and jumper
and followed my guide down through the
mills. We made our way through piles
of stock, raw material, rolls, etc., and came
at last to the huge converting mill. The
superintendent was found and the word
delivered. He glanced at me moment;
then said, not unkindly. "You look good
and strong. Jump in and help those fol-
lows there on those vessels"
hardly knew what he meant, but
through the smoke and steam saw some
men beneath one of the vessels, or convert
ers, working with sledges and bars to get
the bottom off. The mill, with its pond
erous and massive cranes, the immense
vessels all covered with black scale and
SCOT, the flying sparks, the roaring flames,
the lights coming and going, the air filled
with steam and smoke, and, finally, the
shrlll and deafening noise, awed, confused
and even disconnected me more than |
should have liked to acknowledge.
seized sledge lying near and jumped
in. We at last got out the "keys," as they
call the wedges which hold the converter
together, and by the help of a hydraulic
ram took the bottom off. This left white
hot opening 8 feet in diameter and about
6 feet from the ground, under which we
must work. 1t seemed to me as though
the skin on my neck and hands would burst
with the heat. My clothes even steamed
and smoked. How | wished had been
anywhere under the sun-good old Sol
rather than under this fendishly hot sun
hanging so very near us
When we had the new bottom on, we
went up to the platform above the con-
verters and drove the keys home more
securely and stopped any small hole there
might be with "ball stuff.
A shrieking engine passed by me and
swiftly poured into the converter "heat"
of iron. Then the blast was turned on.
and cloud of yellow and saffron fame,
mixed with sparks and small particles of
metal, rushed out of the mouth of the
converter into the air. One of the men
caught me by the arm and pulled me away
just in time to save me from being serious
ly burned, for | was not expecting the
flame.
By noon | was so tired | could hardly
stand, but | stuck to it for all was worth.
During the afternoon l frequently fell
down because my knees were too weak to
hold me up. My hands were burned and
bEstered, and my new overalls were filed
with holes burned by flying sparks About
4 o'clock in the afternoon, while working
under the platform, was startled to see a
stream of red fire run over the edge Of the
platform and strike in the midst of some
workmen. As it touched the wet ground
1t exploded with report like that of a
cannon. The molten metal few in every
direction. Many workmen were burned
more or less severely, and in the case of
one poor fellow-it makes me sick still to
think Of it the steel came down directly
on the head and back. We got him out
of the steam and smoke and carefully and
tenderly cut his burned clothing from him.
AS we placed him on the stretcher the
burned flesh dropped from his bones.
When 1 was relieved at o'clock, it
seemed as if it would have been utterly
impossible for me to live in that mill an
other hour. | dragged myself to my room
and went to bed at once. All that night |
tossed and turned my aching bones, trying
to get into some position less painful than
the last. l was tortured by thousand
grotesque iancies and by the picture of the
poor fellow who was burned so badly. At
last got into an uneasy browse, but felt
as if | had not been asleep minute when
my alarm clock announced to me that it
was 4:45, and that | must get up to my
5:lO breakfast. Oh, the misery Of that
rising and going to the mill Every bone
and sinew seemed as if made of redhot iron,
and the joints as if rusted together
1t was dark, foggy morning, found,
when, having desperately got up enough
will power to dress, | tumbled out to my
boarding house. The Pittsburg smoke
and fog are proverbial, but really think
that on that particular morning one might
have cut tangible chunks out of the black,
wet air. The board walks in Homestead
are never in repair, and on the way to the
mills stumbled along through mud and
stones, over boards and into holes carrying
in my hand my tin dinner bucket, which
contained my midday meal.
On my first Sunday We refined the con-
verter, and it became my duty to stand up
in the inverted vessel and hand up the ball
stuff and limestone with which to refine it.
The vessel had been left to cool simply over
night, and l suppose the temperature Of
the dry air inside of it stood at about 140
degrees. worked as hard as 1 could, but
near noon tainted, for the first time in nav