A Family Affair

by: Rick Catania

Inland once had a reputation of being similar to one big family. There are various speculations on why this reputation existed. It could have been because of the business originally being owned by the Block family whose family values permeated the business. Then again it could have been that employees had multiple family members working at the Inland Steel Company. I think it may have been a little of both.

It was September of 1974; I had just turned eighteen and needed to find full-time employment. Oh… I’d had odd jobs like in the fields of mopping floors, sanitation pickup, and car wash engineering. I made enough to scrape up a few bucks to buy a beater car. If recollection serves me correctly, the first business I attempted to find fulltime employment at was the Inland Steel Company, in Indiana Harbor. Heck, Inland seemed to be as good a place as any to work. My father, two older brothers, and an older nephew all worked there. 

So I headed off for the Inland employment office, wondering if I would recognize the office if I saw it. Would there be a sign posted? Maybe I could just ask someone around that vicinity if they would direct me to the proper building. Yeah… the old saying, “being young and dumb” felt like it fit me at the moment. I had forgotten to ask my family which building housed the employment office. So there I was, driving my beater from Whiting heading south down Indianapolis Boulevard. 

My mind drifted back to another time as I drove past The Standard Oil Refinery. I recalled being a young boy of the age of four, sitting in the back seat of an automobile with my mother. We were traveling this same route. The refinery had quite a few flare stacks, spewing flames from their top sides. There I was as a small child sitting and blowing air in the direction of these stacks and mother asking me if I remembered to make a birthday wish as I was blowing out the candles.

Turning left onto 129th street I was headed east, leaving oil country and heading directly for steel mill city, Indiana Harbor. I could see Youngstown Sheet and Tube. The closer I got to that steel mill the bigger it all appeared. Eventually it was all around me. Made a right onto Dickey Road, heading south. To my right was Markstown, a small community with stucco-walled buildings. The European architecture made it appear as though it belonged in another country. It’s still there today with the appearance it had way back then. Traveling south, I couldn’t help but notice an open bridge over the shipping canal and more Youngtown mills on both sides of the road. A monster oil freighter crept through the canal. I felt anxieties building up inside, wondering what my future held and what I was getting myself into. One thing for sure, I couldn’t do much but think and wait while this monster ship leisurely moved through the bridge opening. It finally got through. The bridge closed. 

There on the other side of the bridge was Inland Steel. To the left were two smoke spewing iron structures with little cars traveling up and down their ramps. Huge expansion structures moved east and west dropping buckets down into fields of iron ore pellets, and grabbing tons of this stuff with one quick swoop. A little further down the road and on the same side was this long brick structure. It, too, was spewing smoke. There were occasional flames within the smoke it bellowed. The smell… it smelled like nothing I ever smelled before. It resembled a combination of burning charcoal and rotting eggs. I spotted a couple of steelworkers with shovels, cleaning coke off the walkway of this structure. They, along with their hardhats and clothing, were just as black as the coke they were shoveling. Once again I wondered if I was making the right choice. 

The right side of the road didn’t look as bad. There was this large electrical yard with its transformers, electrical towers, cables, etc… Beyond that were mills. This area looked rather inviting compared to the other side of the road. I glanced ahead and spotted a train engine. I came to a stop. The engine had the words “Indiana Harbor Belt” across its side. I waited. Gondola cars full of this black coke snaked as far as the eye could see. It was a good half hour before the caboose rolled by. Here again I had time to think. Was I making the right choice? My brothers and one nephew worked at Inland. My father worked and retired from there too. Is this the place for me?

There was a faint but consistent pounding in the background. I couldn’t place the sound. It sounded like hammers pounding on metal. As traffic began rolling, I crossed the tracks and came to a red traffic light. There on the corner of Dickey Road and Watling stood the source of that pounding noise, Standard Forge. The black building had its louvers wide open. I caught glimpses of red hot steel being pounded, and workers passing between the hot steel and louvers with faces covered with dirt and sweat. The pounding was deafening, even inside my car. I wondered how anyone could withstand that constant noise, day in and day out. 

The light turned green and I made a left hand turn onto Watling. Still wasn’t sure where I would find this employment office. The street name of Watling sounded familiar. I must have heard it somewhere before. Someone in my family must have mentioned it at one time or another. I continued east on Watling looking for anything that resembled an employment office. I’ve heard of lines of people standing around waiting, hoping to get hired into the mills. As it turned out, I spotted the office right away. It was the brick building on the corner of Watling and Block. The biggest clue was the row of people lined up in front of this building. Lined up is putting it lightly. Not only were they lined up, but they were also out the door and down the block.

So I walked to the back of the line and just in case I might have been wrong, I asked the individual in front of me, “Hey man, is this the line for the free cheese?”

He looked at me sort of funny and said, “I thought it was the employment line”. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Two and a half hours later I was talking to a man behind a bank teller type window. He wanted to know what type of work I was looking for. I always had a knack for electrical work, so I asked for something within that field. He shuffled through some papers and then told me nothing was available. The sound I heard next was the word “NEXT” being shouted by the man behind the teller window. I guess my time was over. All sorts of thoughts raced through my head but the most predominate one was the question; “Why didn’t I just tell him I’d take anything that was available!” I reviewed my options as I walked out of the building. There were other mills and refineries within close proximity to where I could attempt to get hired. 

I did go back to Inland, stood in line, was told that nothing was available, and to come back next week Monday. In the meantime I tried my luck at U.S. Steel, Gary Works. The line was short; I was 3rd in line. As at Inland, I requested an electrical position. I was surprised when the individual asked me if I’d be interested in an apprentice motor inspector position. It was so quick! I accepted it, filled out the appropriate forms and was told to report for work orientation next Monday morning.

I caught myself whistling to a tune on the car radio as I was driving home. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper when I walked into house. One glance at me and he knew I was in a good mood. He says, “You get that job you’ve been trying for at Inland, son?” My whistling stopped. All I could see is that smile on his face. A smile anticipating the word, “YES”. 

I felt my good mood melting away as I told him, “U.S. Steel in Gary, not Inland Steel, dad.” The look on his face quickly changed and reflected sadness, disappointment, confusion, maybe a little of all three and more. We were both quiet, seemed like an eternity, but in all actuality it must have only been a few seconds. 

He finally spoke, “Why not Inland? Your brothers work there, your nephew works there, and I retired from there.” I tried to explain that I attempted to get hired into Inland several times so I began looking elsewhere for employment. He just shook his head and went back to reading his newspaper. I couldn’t help wondering what the big deal was. A job’s a job, isn’t it? It’s not like our family owned Inland Steel.

That next Monday came. Instead of reporting for work at U.S. Steel, I went to Inland and stood in the employment line. Once again a long line, and needless to say, but I’m going to say it anyway, I got turned away. The same scenario kept occurring for about a month, and maybe a dozen attempts or so, before finally the man behind the bank teller type window says, “I’ve seen you around here a lot, haven’t I? You must really want to work here. Don’t you?” I stuttered a moment before a “Yes, sir” popped out of my mouth. He pointed to a door located to the side of the room and asked me to go through it and have a seat at the table in the other room. I did as he asked. Eventually another man walked in holding some papers, some kind of list of available jobs I presumed. He asked if I had a preference on what I wanted to do and what department I wanted to work in. “Working in an electrical field is my first choice, but I’ll accept anything that’s available, and in any department” was my response. He thumbed through his paperwork and told me there were electrical openings at the 44” Hot Strip. I enthusiastically blurted out, “GREAT! My brother works there.” Surprisingly, his response while thumbing through the list again was, “Well, we can’t have you working there.” After a few moments he said, “Okay, here…. The 76” Hot Strip has an electrical opening.” I looked away from him and quietly, just almost under my breath I said, “great”. He glanced at me and asked, “What, another brother?” I just nodded my head yes, and he instantly began flipping through his paperwork again. He stopped and asked, “You have a brother working in Field Forces?” I said, “No, Sir.” He then proceeded to tell me that there was work available in that department’s labor gang, along with some electrical openings coming up in about 6 months or so. I accepted the job, filled out the appropriate paperwork and was told to report for orientation the next day. 

Home again, I looked for my dad. There he was in his basement workshop. I called out to him, “Hey Dad, got that job today.” He responded with a one word question, “Inland?” I responded back with a one word statement, “YES”! He looked at me and smiled. 

I had followed a family tradition. Now, not only was I a son and a brother of Inland steelworkers, but an Inland steelworker as well.