Dancing with the wrecking ball
Saw in the newspaper that another mothballed foundry is to be demolished. Except, this time around, I recognized the place in the photo. It was across the road, and in friendly competition with another plant that had my name on the payroll.
Back when my university schedule included months of work availability (otherwise known as the summer), I had the unforgettable experience of working in that special corner of Hell known as the pouring floor. Not for long; just enough time to realize that my plans for higher education were worth pursuing. Back then, the industrial plants of this country were working at full strength, but “the writing was on the wall”, albeit hidden under a thick layer of soot.
I’d worked in the factor side of the same complex, the summer before. Doing all kinds of fun things; bolting stuff together, pressing stuff together, grinding stuff away from other stuff. We were like worker ants, each section of the floor devoted to a craft, and a foreman assuring that nobody wasted the precious hours needed to make even more stuff. From time to time, I’d spot the gang that worked over in the foundry.
Sure, I was curious, but there were too many things to learn in my section to lose time wondering about the rest of the world. And then, summer two began, and the only opening was in the foundry. Now, I’d know more than anyone ever wants about the special world under the hot cast shakeout.
Those opportunities are gone, now. The Pacific Rim can provide more axle hubs and axle spindles and spring plates than anyone will ever want to buy, at less cost including shipping it back to this side of the globe. The plants of yesteryear are now eyesores; waiting their turn to dance with the wrecking ball.
The newspaper mentioned that demolition was actually a money-maker for the company. Someone else, over on the Pacific Rim, needs the steel beams that supported a roof for more than a century. Steel is easily recycled, into hubs and spindles and plates.
