With stories of inventors, movie moguls, local cuisine and sports heroes, Editor Mark C. Peyko and the writers of the Metro Monthly not only chronicle the history of Youngstown, but also capture the essence of their home. The blows of hammers and the humming of mills once echoed throughout the Mahoning Valley. Steel reigned supreme, and immigrants from every corner of Europe came to forge new lives and an enduring community. When the sounds of industry were silenced, Youngstown remained a strong and vibrant community. Peyko and company create a portrait of their city through a beautifully rendered collection of vignettes.

The blows of hammers and the humming of mills once echoed throughout the Mahoning Valley. Steel reigned supreme, and immigrants from every corner of Europe came to forge new lives and an enduring community. When the sounds of industry were silenced, Youngstown remained a strong and vibrant community. Editor Mark C. Peyko and the writers of the Metro Monthly create a portrait of their city through a beautifully rendered collection of vignettes. With stories of inventors, movie moguls, local cuisine and sports heroes, Peyko and company not only chronicle the history of Youngstown, but also capture the essence of their home.

The massive steel mills of Youngstown once fueled the economic boom of the Mahoning Valley. Movie patrons took in the latest flick at the ornate Paramount Theater, and mob bosses dressed to the nines for supper at the Colonial House. In 1977, the Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company announced the closure of its steelworks in a nearby city. The fallout of the ensuing mill shutdowns erased many of the city's beloved landmarks and neighborhoods. Students hurrying across a crowded campus tread on the foundations of the Elms Ballroom, where Duke Ellington once brought down the house. On the lower eastside, only broken buildings and the long-silent stacks of Republic Rubber remain. Urban explorer and historian Sean T. Posey navigates a disappearing cityscape to reveal a lost era of Youngstown.

A collection of social and cultural articles published in regional newspapers over the past decade.

Once the symbol of a robust steel industry and blue-collar economy, Youngstown, Ohio, and its famous Jeannette Blast Furnace have become key icons in the tragic tale of American deindustrialization. Sherry Lee Linkon and John Russo examine the inevitable tension between those discordant visions, which continue to exert great power over Steeltown's citizens as they struggle to redefine their lives. When "the Jenny" was shut down in 1978, 50,000 Youngstown workers lost their jobs, cutting the heart out of the local economy. Even as the community organized a nationally recognized effort to save the mills, the city was rocked by economic devastation, runaway crime, and mob scandal, problems that persist twenty-five years later. In the midst of these struggles the Jenny remained standing as a proud symbol of the community's glory days, still a dominant force in the construction of both individual and collective identities in Youngstown. Focusing on stories and images that both reflect and perpetuate how Youngstown understands itself as a community, Sherry Lee Linkon and John Russo have forged a historical and cultural study of the relationship between community, memory, work, and conflict. Drawing on written texts, visual images, sculptures, films, songs, and interviews with people who have lived and worked in Youngstown, the authors show the importance of memory in forming the collective identity of a place. Steeltown, U.S.A. is a richly developed portrait of a place, showing how images of the Jenny and of Youngstown have been used in national media and connecting these representations to the broader public conversation about work and place: Bruce Springsteen's song "Youngstown," the book Journey to Nowhere, and other pop culture artifacts have helped make Youngstown the symbolic epicenter of American deindustrialization. And while many people see the need to get over the past and on with the future, in rushing to erase the difficult parts of Youngstown's history they might also forget the powerful events that made the city so important, such as the struggles for economic and social justice that improved the lives of steelworkers. This multifaceted study of the meaning of work and place in one community pointedly depicts the relationships among economic development, media representations, and community life. As we see how people's faith in the value of their work dwindled away in Youngstown, their stories can help us understand not only how the meaning of work has changed but also why the changing meaning of work matters.

Join the author of Historic Theaters of Youngstown and the Mahoning Valley and Lost Youngstown in an excavation of forgotten stories from bygone days. Beyond steel and rust, Youngstown and the Mahoning Valley share a rich, but often overlooked past. During the late 1910s, the ever-present smoke blanketing the area could not hide the fires from the burning business district of East Youngstown or the city streets deserted from Spanish influenza. Over twenty years later, the Mahoning Valley lived under another dark cloud, the Great Depression, but instead of violence and destruction, the men and women of the WPA busied themselves with building up the region and dreaming of better days. Journalist and historian Sean Posey excavates the history behind familiar landmarks, forgotten institutions, and historic sites that connect Mahoning Valley history to the story of the evolution of industrial America.

Youngstown, Ohio was a rapidly growing industrial city in the early 20th century. In 1900, the city had a population of about 45,000; ten years later, it nearly doubled to 80,000, and by 1920 had reached 120,000. This phenomenal growth was reflected in a number of structures that dotted the city's skyline, including the Mahoning Bank Building, the Masonic Temple, and the plants of three major steel companies along the banks of the Mahoning River. Youngstown also had new places for its citizens to play during this period-Idora Park, Mill Creek Park, and Wick Park. And this was all preserved for the future through another early-20th century phenomenon-the postcard. Over 190 vintage postcards illustrate this book, which will bring the reader back to the era when Youngstown was rapidly becoming the third largest steel producer in the nation.

More than two decades have passed since Youngstown lost its beloved Strouss' Department Store. But Youngstowners can still taste those incomparable chocolate malts, see the dramatic view from the store's mezzanine and feel the excitement of the annual Thanksgiving Day parade. The story of Strouss' kept pace with the powerful trends that defined Youngstown as a whole. This was especially true during the boom years of the early twentieth century, when the store was the shopping hub in a community known as "America's Ruhr Valley." But the city changed, and Strouss' changed with it. In this unprecedented historical narrative, Welsh and Geltz dig deep into Strouss' past to uncover a dramatic story that will surprise--and delight--Youngstowners of all ages.

When author Gail Okawa was in high school in Honolulu, a neighbor mentioned that her maternal grandfather had been imprisoned in a World War II concentration camp on the US mainland. Questioning her parents, she learned only that “he came back a changed man.” Years later, as an adult salvaging that grandfather’s memorabilia, she found a mysterious photo of a group of Japanese men standing in front of an adobe building, compelling her eventually to embark on a project to learn what happened to him. Remembering Our Grandfathers’ Exile is a composite chronicling of the Hawai‘i Japanese immigrant experience in mainland exile and internment during World War II, from pre-war climate to arrest to exile to return. Told through the eyes of a granddaughter and researcher born during the war, it is also a research narrative that reveals parallels between pre-WWII conditions and current twenty-first century anti-immigrant attitudes and heightened racism. The book introduces Okawa’s grandfather, Reverend Tamasaku Watanabe, a Protestant minister, and other Issei prisoners—all legal immigrants excluded by law from citizenship—in a collective biographical narrative that depicts their suffering, challenges, and survival as highly literate men faced with captivity in the little-known prison camps run by the U.S. Justice and War Departments. Okawa interweaves documents, personal and official, and internees’ firsthand accounts, letters, and poetry to create a narrative that not only conveys their experience but, equally important, exemplifies their literacy as ironic and deliberate acts of resistance to oppressive conditions. Her research revealed that the Hawai‘i Issei/immigrants who had sons in military service were eventually distinguished from the main group; the narrative relates visits of some of those sons to their imprisoned fathers in New Mexico and elsewhere, as well as the deaths of sons killed in action in Europe and the Pacific. Documents demonstrate the high degree of literacy and advocacy among the internees, as well as the inherent injustice of the government’s policies. Okawa’s project later expanded to include New Mexico residents having memories of the Santa Fe Internment Camp—witnesses who provide rare views of the wartime reality.