The Iron Puddler: My Life in the Rolling Mills and what Came of itGrosset & Dunlap, 1922 - 259 páginas Autobiography of the Davis, Secretary of Labor under presidents Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover. Covers his youth and early work in the iron industry, his membership in the Loyal Order of Moose, and founding of the Mooseheart School. |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Iron Puddler: My Life in the Rolling Mills and what Came of it James John Davis Vista completa - 1922 |
The Iron Puddler: My Life in the Rolling Mills and what Came of it James John Davis Vista completa - 1922 |
The Iron Puddler: My Life in the Rolling Mills and What Came of It James J. Davis Vista previa limitada - 2005 |
Términos y frases comunes
America asked beer blast furnaces blood boarding-house boil boss boys brakeman brothers Bucket of Blood build called capital capitalist cents CHAPTER city clerk clothes coal communist Comrade Bannerman corned beef cows crop Davis dollars earn Elwood employer envy famine farmer father feather beds fellows fight friends furnace gave give Greasy Spoon hands hard head heart heat hoecake iron puddler iron worker Jazz knew labor learned live man's milk minstrel show Moose Mooseheart mother nature never phosphorus pig-iron Pittsburgh puddle puddling furnace railroad railroad switch rich rolling mill Sharon sick Simon Legree singing sleep spitball starved steel strike taught tell things thought tin mill tion to-day told took town trade train turned wages Wales wanted watch Welsh whipped words young
Pasajes populares
Página 98 - Six hundred pounds was the weight of pig iron we used to put into a single hearth. Much wider than the hearth was the fire grate, for we needed a heat that was intense. The flame was made by burning bituminous coal. Vigorously I stoked that fire for thirty minutes with dampers open and the draft roaring while the pig iron melted down like ice cream under an electric fan.
Página 30 - ... me that good men would bring forth good fruits. This was all the education he could give me, and it was enough. My father was an iron worker, and his father before him. My people had been workers in metal from the time when the age of farming in Wales gave way to the birth of modern industries. They were proud of their skill, and the secrets of the trade were passed from father to son as a legacy of great value, and were never told to persons outside the family.
Página 91 - We learned the trick by doing it, standing with our faces in the scorching heat while our hands puddled the metal in its glaring...
Página 112 - ... the squeezer is like the circular motion you use in rolling a bread pill between the palms and squeezing the water out of it. I must get the three balls. or blooms, out of the furnace and into the squeezer while the slag is still liquid so that it can be squeezed out of the iron. From cold pig-iron to finished blooms is a process that takes from an hour and ten minutes, to an hour and forty minutes, depending on the speed and skill of the puddler, and the kind of iron. I was a fast one, myself....
Página 98 - There were five bakings every day, and this meant the shoveling in of nearly two tons of coal. In summer I was stripped to the waist and panting while the sweat poured down across my heaving muscles. My palms and fingers, scorched by the heat, became hardened like goat hoofs, \vhile my skin took on a coat of tan that it will wear forever.
Página 97 - Build a bridge of it and a gale will break it and it will fall into the river. Some races are pigiron; Hottentots and Bushmen are pig-iron. They break at a blow. They have been smelted out of wild animalism, but they went no further; they are of no use in this modern world because they are brittle. Only the wrought-iron races can do the work. All this I felt but could...
Página 108 - The iron workers are civilization's shock troops grappling with tyrannous nature on. her own ground and conquering new territory in which man can live in safety and peace. Steel houses with glass windows are born of his efforts. There is a glory in this fight; man feels a sense of grandeur. We are robbing no one. From the harsh bosom of the hills we wring the iron milk that makes us strong. Nature is no kind mother; she resists with flood and earthquake, drought and cyclone. Nature is fierce and...
Página 50 - ... The order of deportation had been made and the family had been put aboard a ship about to sail. I learned that the children were healthy and rightminded; the mother was of honest working stock with a faith in God and not in anarchy. I had been one of such a family entering this port forty years ago. Little did I dream then that I would ever be a member of a President's Cabinet with power to wipe away this woman's tears and turn her heart's sorrowing into a song of joy. I wrote the order of admission,...
Página 85 - ... opening for a youngster in the rolling mill. Every puddler has a helper. Old men have both a helper and a boy. I got a place with an old man, and so at the age of twelve I was part of the Big Show whose performance is continuous, whose fire-eaters have real flame to contend with, and whose snake-charmers risk their lives in handling great hissing, twisting red-hot serpents of angry iron. In this mill there is a constant din by day and night.