Mighty Joe: Faketale or Folktale?

Ever since I spent a summer working at J&L Steel Co. in Pittsburgh, I've wanted to find out more about steelworker Joe Magarac. He's to Pittsburgh what Paul Bunyan was to the American West. Faketale or folktale, the story of Mighty Joe tells you a lot about my native city's pride, work ethic, and ethos. Here's my take on the tall tale:

Now Joe was a real saint, the saint of all steelworkers in Pittsburgh, born in the old country, deep in the mountains of Croatia. Well, he wasn't an official saint, because he never went to mass on Sunday. He worked all the time, triple shifts--morning, afternoon, and night turn--didn't even stop to sleep.

He did stop to eat, though. Mrs. Horkey's daughter, who still has the boarding house in the South Side, says he ate 6 meals a day there, but never laid his head down to rest! He had to eat that much, especially because he was about 7 feet tall, and biceps as big as my waist. Yes you believe me, he was the strongest, fastest, kindest of them all.

From Croatia.org

He was so strong because he was made of steel! But he wasn't cold to the touch, no sir. You know why? Because his heart was made of the finest molten steel, it never cooled, and kept him warm day and night. During the worst Pittsburgh winters with the deepest snow. He didn't even have to wear a coat that Joe! He was so strong he could bend steel into pretzels, and squeeze molten steel through his fingers to make train tracks. 

Now I never met Mighty Joe, but I met a foreman whose dad knew him when he started at the mill. Joe saved his life! Let me tell you what happened. It is about 4 o'clock in the open hearth, that's where they cook the steel. One of the furnaces is ready to tap. Everyone is in their places, ready to add this or that to keep the molten metal flowing into the ladle. 

The ladle is starting to fill up. But something groans and creaks. The iron stops flowing. Then all of a sudden the furnace splits open and the white-hot steel comes pouring out like a waterfall onto the ladle. It's just too much, the ladle jams and starts to overflow.

The men scream and turn to run, and but in that second, there comes a huge black shadow over everyone--Mighty Joe. He takes the split seam of the furnace like it was a piece of cloth he was sewing, and seals up the crack with his bare hands.

And then he's gone just as fast as he came. If he hadn't come, in another second the whole heat would have been lost, and all the men too. They check themselves to see if they are all there, and watch the ladle move on, as if nothing happened. There wasn't even a spill on the ground, just a faint mist rising up from the floor where Joe had stood. Yes, you could always count on Joe.

Poor Joe Magarac. He came to a bad end. You see he worked so hard, so fast, that one day the boss says they're shutting down the mill early Saturday for a nice long weekend. They're way ahead on production because of Joe! Everyone was happy, but not Joe—he liked to work all the time.

Now when they came back on Monday, they can't find Joe. The melter boss looks all around. He finally finds him in the ladle, with boiling hot steel up to his neck! The boss is so scared. He says Joe, better git outta there! But Joe says, the only way I can work all the time is to make myself into the best steel there is. To make the best mill there ever was. And with that he says goodbye and dunks his head under. And that's the last time anybody saw Mighty Joe. And that's why in Pittsburgh we had the best steel mills anywhere, and the best steel in the world. And that's the story of Mighty Joe Magarac!

(Adapted from Carver, George, “Legend in Steel,” The Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine, Vol. 27, Nos.3-4, pp. 129-136, 1944.)