The steelworker’s son was in graduate school when he got the news. His father, who was a retired pipe fitter and millwright, had pain in his back. The doctors found black spots on his kidneys and lungs, and thought it might be cancer.
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His father turned out to be fine, but Bruno went on to interview his neighbors, friends, and coworkers–75 in all–who were retired and living in close-knit communities in and around Youngstown. According to his political science studies, socioeconomic class didn’t matter any more in the United States; thanks to the boom years of the 1950s, virtually everyone was middle-class. His interviews showed him otherwise–that the steelworkers’ activities and attitudes were rooted in working-class culture. The retirees had prayed, partied, bowled, picnicked, golfed, and played cards together, helped one another build additions to their homes, coached and cheered their children’s sports teams. They had financial uncertainty in common, as well as a strong sense of community, family, and solidarity. They had stuck together and struck together–Bruno remembers the 1959 United Steelworkers of America strike, when his only Christmas present, a red toy truck, came from the union.
There are about 30 union steelworkers left in Youngstown, says Bruno. That’s down from about 23,000 in the late 50s and early 60s. At Youngstown State University, the Center for Working-Class Studies, which was begun in 1996, sponsors biennial conferences and has helped put working-class studies on the academic map. The Youngstown center inspired Bruno and another steelworker’s son-turned-academic, Jack Metzgar of Roosevelt University, to put out a call for a similar center in Chicago, and the Chicago Center for Working-Class Studies came into being last year.
