If the name of the football team did not give it away, Pittsburgh made steel and steel made Pittsburgh. With peak employment for the Homestead mill reaching 15,000 during World War II, the Mill sumported the livelihoods of thousands of families. For people who grew up in Western Pennsylvania, there is almost always a direct connection to steel; whether it be Homestead or the hundreds of other mills, or the coke works, or even the barge and train operators, it seems that everyone knew someone with steel ties. The labor improvements, thanks to the unions, occurred around the 1930’s. Having learned—granted, too late-- from the mistakes made that lead up to the Homestead Strike in 1892, the steel companies provided their workers with a comfortable wage and decent benefits, including pensions. This allowed for generations of families, men and women, to seek work at the mill.
It is hard to mistake the towering smoke stacks as you approach The Waterfront from Browns Hill Road across the Homestead Grays Bridge. Bear right off the bridge and onto 5th avenue and those 12 columns act as the “Welcome to The Waterfront” billboard. Aside from those towering structures, a visitor could drive through The Waterfront and have little idea about what once stood on that very spot. The retail giants, like Macy’s and Target, now occupy the place that took over the land of The Homestead Works. The mill once dominated three miles of the Monongahela River waterfront until the mill closed in the 1980’s. When the mill closed, that land became prime realty, and the plans for the present-day Waterfront began to take shape. Despite the new façade, The Waterfront is still able to bring the past to the present, for those who choose to look. From small details like the Homestead Grays bridge, named for the historic Negro League baseball team, to the large structures still remaining from the mills, you just need to be receptive to the past.
Having grown up in Pittsburgh, I was always aware of the impact that steel had on the city. I knew that I had several ancestors that began their pursuit of an American dream in the mills. I even had a great- aunt, Josie, that was a riveter during WWII. Having made countless trips to The Waterfront for shopping and movies, it wasn’t until a recent visit that I realized the weight of the space. While the mill itself is no longer standing, the relics that still stand, really brought me to Soja’s "thirdspace."
Edward Soja, a space theorist, proposes “The Trialectics of Spatiality.” This argument suggests that there are three categories of space—percieved (firstspace), conceived (secondspace), and lived (thirdspace). The percieved space is what we call reality; it’s the structures of the shopping mall, the traffic lights, and the trains that seemed to appear on command. The conceived space is the imagined space; it’s the thought about what this place would look like on Black Friday, it’s the energy in the air when there is a big sale at Macy’s, and the imagined sights and sounds of this exact location 100 years ago. The lived space is how the space affects our life; it is the personal connections that one has to Homestead and the emotions it evokes, it’s the favorite place to see a comedy show, it’s the individual footprint you are leaving on the space as you leave.
It is hard to not feel humbled by the experience of visiting the few remaining structures, especially for someone who has such strong ties to the steel industry. Staring up at the smoke stacks, imaginings flooded my mind. I was overwhelmed by the visions of all of the people who stood here before me, visitors and laborers alike. How each of us had different perspectives and thoughts about the place in which they stood: the dreams that were achieved because of the financial support the mill provided, the dreams that were squandered thanks to lost lives and disability, the magnitude of just one piece of the former industry.
There is a much different feeling to the area surrounding The Pump House. Maybe it’s the fact that it is the exact site of The 1892 Battle of Homestead, but there is a heavier weight to the air. Separated slightly from the hustle and bustle of The Waterfront shops, the historic site is significantly quieter. Inside of The Pump House, the high ceilings and hard surfaces carry the voices of the present. Small details bring the past to the present. I noticed a bullet hole in one of the windows. Whether this dates back to the 1892 Homestead Strike, or if it’s a new addition is unknown to me, but I am fixated. The window pane that shattered but did not break, is an appropriate symbol for the labor movement in the steel industry. The strike set relations back, but in time their goals were realized. Another detail struck me as rather ironic and coincidental. Right in front of the building are handicapped parking spots, evoking some of Barthes’ third meaning thoughts. Here is a place that killed and injured many people, fired disabled laborers who were no longer able to work, and now they are ADA compliant. I cannot help but to think these actions were taken in part because of the guilty conscious of the steel industry.
Just outside of the Pump House is a labyrinth that seems to tie together all of the historic structures across Homestead and Pittsburgh. The cathartic activity of wandering the maze allows for time to reflect. Surrounded by stones engraved with names of local steel works and manufacturers, it’s as though you are joined by their stories.
It is easy to go to The Waterfront with blinders on, focused on getting what you need and getting out. Look beyond the storefronts, and you can actually experience Homestead. There is enough of the past to remind us of where we have been, you just need to actually be present.
Works Cited
“Heritage Sites.” Rivers of Steel, www.riversofsteel.com/preservation/heritage-sites/.
Roth, Mark. “Homestead Works: Steel lives in its stories.” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 30 July 2006, www.post-gazette.com/business/businessnews/2006/07/30/Homestead-Works-Steel-lives-in-its-stories/stories/200607300258.
Soja, Edward. Thirdspace: Journeys to Lost Angeles and Ither Real-and-Imagined Places. Cambridge MA: Blackwell Publishing Inc., 1996. 53-70.