Bethlehem's Legacy: The Steel Dragon

Join me at a storytelling event with Patchwork, "Earth Woven," at the Ice House April 24

The other day, I was in Bethlehem on Sand Island, for a meeting in the Ice House about an up-and-coming storytelling event.

Earth Woven:

Stories of connection, creation, and wonder

Thursday, April 24, 7 p.m.

at the Charles A Brown Ice House

56 River St., Bethlehem, PA

For more information or to order tickets, visit the Patchwork web site.

With my official work done, I walked outside. I looked across the Lehigh River and saw the abandoned smokestacks now, renamed “Steel Stacks.” This vision reminded me of a poem I wrote some years ago, and I would like to share it with you.

Especially since April is National Poetry Month.

photo courtesy Gayle Hendricks

The Steel Dragon

(I)

Summer, it is hot. No cool morning air.

I stand at the back door, the sun pressing into the horizon

Pushing the night sky to the west as the stars fade away. 

Open the screen door and 

Pull a kitchen chair onto the fire escape.

Coffee cup balances on the railing. 

Strike a match to light up a smoke. 

Blow the smoke out with a sigh and 

Stare into the southern skies across the river.

Red and yellow rays shine on the blackness of the smokestacks.

Contrast of the sunrise and the long dark silhouette of the steel plant.

The smoke that ascends into the hazy 

Morning sky gives a peaceful appearance. 

An old reluctant Dragon watches over the valley…

The Steel Dragon.

There is a dull, soft boom-boom in the distance 

That drifts across the river.

It is a working song that sounds like a heartbeat. 

A vision of the blast furnaces pumping molten steel 

Through the veins of the Dragon appears in my head. 

Intense heat changing iron ore, limestone, and coke into a 

Liquid alloy of iron and carbon. 

This is the heart that is beating. 

The heart that sustain life, 

Not just under the steel skin 

Of the Dragon, but the well-being of the city itself. 

Workers in honest movement, 

Feeding the Dragon with their sweat and might.

Wheels turning, 

Steel chips flying, 

Red-hot beams sailing and 

People working. 

I can feel the nobility in 

The outward peacefulness 

Of the old Steel Dragon.

As the Dragon stretches down the bank of the river, 

It gives purpose to the Valley. 

For more than a hundred years 

This gallant Dragon 

Laid on the bank of the river, 

Giving life. 

I journeyed to the south and to the north.

Every time I returned home, 

A sadness touched me.

The old Steel Dragon was in ill fate. 

Neglect weakened his might.

The managers, thinking they were the 

Brains of the Dragon, turned to greed.

They robbed his rations 

To cook their fine fair, 

Until the Dragon’s belly roared with hunger. 

The bosses lost their integrity, 

Blinding the Union’s vision.

The workers shook their heads… 

No honest work to be had. 

(II)

The wheels stopped turning, 

Metal chips stopped flying, 

The blast furnace stopped pumping, and 

Smokestacks stopped smoking.

Steel stopped flowing.

The beam yard came to a standstill.

The workers went home. 

The old Steel Dragon became empty and cold.

The Steel Dragon was not slain 

By noble knight with a sword of steel.

He slowly died by lack of steel.

The crafty old Dragon crawled 

From under its skin, 

Onto the riverbank and 

Swam downstream.

Leaving just his large dark steel shell to rust. 

Looking across the river with a grieving eye, 

It was hard to believe that the Steel Dragon was gone.

An empty hollowness sang a ghost song 

From the vacant shell 

Silent and still. 

People cried out: 

“We can’t stare at the Dragon’s bones, 

Tear it down.” 

Others said: 

“Build a monument, a memorial. 

Don’t forget the jobs and the 

Service the Dragon supplied.” 

Then the politicians, lawyers and 

Public prospectors picked the Dragon’s bones.

They dissected the deceased 

For perished precious ore. 

Modern-day alchemists said:

“We can turn the old Steel Dragon’s armor into gold. 

There is magic in arts and entertainment. 

Yes, the arts are the answer.” 

Sandy gamblers came knocking 

With contracts up their sleeves and 

Money in their pocket.

“If you roll the bones of the Dragon 

Into a gambling paradise,

the odds are in our favor,” 

Said the politicians and gamblers. 

(III)

Transformation changed the rolling 

Of steel to the turning of wheels.

No glitter or polyester, 

This is a steel town. 

Steel can be the money-making theme. 

The architecture will keep the 

Steel Dragon’s story in refrain.

With I-beams and phony neon flames, 

It is trendy enough to 

Consume the consumer’s taste. 

The non-smoking smokestacks will light

The night sky in red, yellow, and purple light.

The quest became performing arts 

And the ghost song switched to happy Blues. 

The gambling house is the heart that 

Booms, booms, booms… 

With forged life. 

Once where the steelworkers 

Made their money working in shifts,

Guests can spend their money 

Anytime, day or night. 

Where the Steel Dragon made the steel pour, 

the Casino Dragon lets the dice roll.

Deal the cards, 

Spin the wheels, 

Keep the slots always at hand. 

Now, it is money 

That pours 

Through the reborn Dragon’s veins. 

That sunny morning 

So long ago, 

When I sat on the fire escape

 With coffee in hand,

Looking across the river, 

The Steel Dragon puffing smoke 

Into the hazy sky. 

Not in a ton of steely dreams 

Would I have thought that the 

Noble Steel Dragon would be transformed 

Into an artful, frolicking Dragon of chance. 

Time does change things.

That’s a sure bet.

But when the Steel Dragon

Poured out steel 

And I looked across the river… 

I felt secure. 

Now, I have to take a chance.

Thank you for sharing my memories.

If you have special memories of The Steel, share them in the comments.

God Bless and Have Fun!

— Larry

If you enjoy Larry’s Stories, don’t forget to click the heart or leave a comment. This is a place where you can share in the storytelling!

To read more from Larry…

Coffee in the Morning presents a collection of nostalgic short stories celebrating 20th century Americana, capturing the hopes, dreams and fears of multiple generations and different life circumstances. Similar to his first book, The Death of Big Butch, this carefully curated collection blends his experiences as observer first and storyteller second.

These sixteen stories weave from the backyard into diners and into forests, capture the other-worldliness of fairytales and the grittiness of misfortune. So visit the general store to discover the hero, explore perspective from the pawnbroker shop, pay your parking tickets, sleep beside the Jersey Devil, and never underestimate the power of a good Pennsylvania Dutch pie.

The book is available for sale via Larry or Parisian Phoenix, at Easton’s Book & Puppet Company downtown or at the Blue Flame Events Retail Store at the Palmer Park Mall.

(And, of course, all your favorite online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, bookshop.org, etc.)

Larry Sceurman, the author of nostalgic fiction COFFEE IN THE MORNING and THE DEATH OF BIG BUTCH, also has a dyslexia-friendly children’s book BOOKWORM’S MAGICAL JOURNEY.

You can get those Barnes & Noble loyalty points ordering his books online! Click here to see all of Larry’s titles on the Barnes & Noble website.

BOOKWORM’S MAGICAL JOURNEY uses whimsical characters to break down the concepts of learning to read. The book is available for sale via Larry, at Easton’s Book & Puppet Company downtown or at the Blue Flame Events Retail Store at the Palmer Park Mall. (And, of course, all your favorite online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, bookshop.org, etc.)