A sooty fog lay heavy over Pittsburgh. Smoke seeped into the steel and concrete canyons of the Golden Triangle, bringing the lights on early in the long rows of office windows. Occasionally a puff of snow swirled up from the grimy sidewalk:.
In the Gold Room of the Roosevelt Hotel, the atmosphere matched the dismal day. The air grew thick with tobacco smoke, thick with angry words. The 175 top officers of the United Steelworkers were cooking up a strike already approved by their membership. After meeting all day they came to a decision:...
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