It's a fascinating topic with many facets. Here's a different aspect of the story.
I grew up in small Georgia town, pop. roughly 2,500, which had a J. P. Stevens plant (think of the film *Norma Rae*) and a plant manufacturing curtains and drapes. The latter was owned by a family in New York. This was their second facility in the area. The one in my hometown began operations in 1975, and by late 1987, workers at the two facilities were alleging racial discrimination in promotion, compensation, and overtime — by that point, nearly ninety percent of the employees were black women — prohibitively expensive medical insurance, poor health and safety conditions, and lack of an internal grievance procedure. In April 1988, they voted 413-185 for union representation. Then it took more than three years, demonstrations, and a lawsuit to force the company to negotiate and sign a contract. That contract, ratified unanimously by the more than 500 workers, included reinstatement and back pay for nearly 200 employees who had been fired or laid off, a six percent pay increase, individual cash awards for approving the contract, sick pay, and other concessions. In 2003, the company shuttered the factory in my hometown. About half of the workers were offered jobs in the other plant, the rest let go.
I wonder what Donald Davidson would have made of all that: the North-South aspect, the racial politics, the labor organizing, the ultimate flight of manufacturing from my hometown, and so on.
That old Enka plant is right in my backyard. That hooked me. There's something similar in Elizabethton, the old Bemberg plant that was expropriated during WWII from its Nazi owners and has sat there, crumbling, in limbo, ever since.
You know, speaking of ENKA, I found a very odd book the other day just sitting out in a McKay's bin. It was titled "Atomic Energy for Military Purposes" and was by a man named Smyth, written 1945 and published by Princeton. But it had this ownership sticker in the front that read "American ENKA," with a man's name under it.
I once spent a summer renovating part of the defunct ENKA plant in, of all places, Enka, N.C. BASF had acquired it and eventually shuttered it a couple years later. I remember riding the freight elevator up to the old laboratories, which felt very spooky, almost like being on a battlefield at night. Ancient scientific instruments, worn workbenches, dark, dour brick -- all very ghostly. I rarely, if ever, get spooked by eerie places, but this felt different. Like camping out at Chickamauga, you felt that something very elemental had been going on here. Whereas the battlefield saw killing, this lab saw men unlocking the secrets of Creation, which itself is just as morally fraught an undertaking. Or perhaps it was in both cases, as you described, an arena of struggle for men torn from what they had always known and regimented for purposes beyond their ken.
A salvage company bought the TN plant and the State had to intervene when the hazmat debris caught fire like beacons meant to summon Andrew Lytle’s ghost, just for him to say, I tried to tell you.
It's a fascinating topic with many facets. Here's a different aspect of the story.
I grew up in small Georgia town, pop. roughly 2,500, which had a J. P. Stevens plant (think of the film *Norma Rae*) and a plant manufacturing curtains and drapes. The latter was owned by a family in New York. This was their second facility in the area. The one in my hometown began operations in 1975, and by late 1987, workers at the two facilities were alleging racial discrimination in promotion, compensation, and overtime — by that point, nearly ninety percent of the employees were black women — prohibitively expensive medical insurance, poor health and safety conditions, and lack of an internal grievance procedure. In April 1988, they voted 413-185 for union representation. Then it took more than three years, demonstrations, and a lawsuit to force the company to negotiate and sign a contract. That contract, ratified unanimously by the more than 500 workers, included reinstatement and back pay for nearly 200 employees who had been fired or laid off, a six percent pay increase, individual cash awards for approving the contract, sick pay, and other concessions. In 2003, the company shuttered the factory in my hometown. About half of the workers were offered jobs in the other plant, the rest let go.
I wonder what Donald Davidson would have made of all that: the North-South aspect, the racial politics, the labor organizing, the ultimate flight of manufacturing from my hometown, and so on.
I appreciate the comment. It’s definitely complex, after all, people are involved.
That old Enka plant is right in my backyard. That hooked me. There's something similar in Elizabethton, the old Bemberg plant that was expropriated during WWII from its Nazi owners and has sat there, crumbling, in limbo, ever since.
Damn, Chase, this is excellent.
Thank you, Mr. Miller. I’ve got no business taking on something this big, but it keeps tugging at me.
As it does many of us.
Thank you. I am from the South and a TVA household, also see the similarities in rural PA.
Thanks for reading. It's a complex subject and probably too big for me to tackle, but I try.
You know, speaking of ENKA, I found a very odd book the other day just sitting out in a McKay's bin. It was titled "Atomic Energy for Military Purposes" and was by a man named Smyth, written 1945 and published by Princeton. But it had this ownership sticker in the front that read "American ENKA," with a man's name under it.
Interesting, I'm familiar with the book but curious to know the name.
I'm happy to get it to you. I'll have to wait until I get back into town though. I'm out for Thanksgiving.
I once spent a summer renovating part of the defunct ENKA plant in, of all places, Enka, N.C. BASF had acquired it and eventually shuttered it a couple years later. I remember riding the freight elevator up to the old laboratories, which felt very spooky, almost like being on a battlefield at night. Ancient scientific instruments, worn workbenches, dark, dour brick -- all very ghostly. I rarely, if ever, get spooked by eerie places, but this felt different. Like camping out at Chickamauga, you felt that something very elemental had been going on here. Whereas the battlefield saw killing, this lab saw men unlocking the secrets of Creation, which itself is just as morally fraught an undertaking. Or perhaps it was in both cases, as you described, an arena of struggle for men torn from what they had always known and regimented for purposes beyond their ken.
A salvage company bought the TN plant and the State had to intervene when the hazmat debris caught fire like beacons meant to summon Andrew Lytle’s ghost, just for him to say, I tried to tell you.
Very strong essay. You should expand it. Evocative.