I heard that, in his younger years, he liked his beer—by the sloshing bucket hauled from the local tavern. However, it was peach schnapps my grandfather requested to toast his last evening at hospice, poured from the uncapped bottle smuggled in by a grandson.
Nick, as he was known, lived a hard life. Emigrating as a teenager from the poorest crown land in the Austrian Empire—the Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria—he spent most of his working life deep in the coal fields of Eastern Pennsylvania. Later, as he aged and his body bent under the years of hard work, he graduated from those dark, damp tunnels and was able to spend his last years of work above ground, under the sun.
I remember his barreled chest—the hallmark of a miner’s lung, broken English, and grizzled, unshaven face. Yet his eyes were clear and his smile bright. Working with pick and shovel and sticks of dynamite, he was able to afford a small house and see ten of his eleven children become adults, with families of their own. Sometimes a little off in the distance, Nick would stand proud at family reunions that were both loud and joyful.
I believe those sips of schnapps warmed his belly as much as his memories warmed his heart.
I bring this up to contrast my perspective of my grandfather’s life with the account of a contemporary who worked in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. In this version, alcohol was the drug that allowed broken men to survive from day to day—a bleak life that always ended in a bypassed cemetery and unmarked grave.
This account—found in the preface of the book, Carnegie—is based on the theme of dehumanizing oppression and exploitation. A viewpoint that sees a class struggle where the exploited suffer as the exploiters relax in excess.
While the marginalized lived in squalor, Carnegie traveled between lavish homes, estates, and castles. This is true, and I do not argue it. However, though stories of the masses are valuable and insightful, the lives of magnates of industry, and the lesser magnates—such as the owner of the mine where my grandfather labored—also need to be told.
And those lives and achievements need to be celebrated, just as we should celebrate the achievements of all profitable entrepreneurs.
My grandfather enjoyed his beer, to excess at times. You see, his time preference was for the here and now. He could neither read nor write, and had no desire to learn. He lived for the moment. I can make a moral judgement, or I can accept the life he led—as his children did. And they greatly respected the man as a father and friend.
But it is the entrepreneur, the capitalist, the financier, etc., who have a different time preference and whose efforts and sacrifices make the lives of Nick and his descendants possible. There was no life for my grandfather in what is today southern Poland. None. And it wasn’t just the dearth of work, there was the pending clash of swords that slaughtered many who remained.
It’s easy to see the world around us and assume the capital structure supporting us should have been available to our ancestors as well. However, capital improvements can only come about because many save and some guide those savings to profitable investments—a process that takes time. And interpreting the past based on the current situation can lead one to miss the truth.
One hundred and fifteen years ago, there were many, many Nicks looking for a means to survive. There were few—like the man who owned the mine—with the desire and abilities to make employment possible. Did the owner live better than the miners he employed? Absolutely. But he also made their livings possible. Isn’t that something to be admired?
Consider this: if the wealth of the mine owner had been split among his employees, they would have had the cash to lug two buckets of beer from the tavern to a home and family that didn’t exist. Thank goodness for the Carnegies—mighty and small—for without them, those few of us lucky to be alive would be scratching potatoes from small plots in the mountains of Galicia. Not much of a life.
Absent the distortions of government, the struggle between exploiter and exploited deserves to be reconsidered—not as a tale of oppression, but of mutual benefit between entrepreneur and worker.
