Graphic Witness: Hugo Gellert
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Hugo Gellert: Comrade Gulliver

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IN the Pennsylvania steel country, a glass case stands at the entrance to one of the mills. In it dainty boxes are displayed -- ladies' powder boxes, boxes for sweets, each painted with pictures of pretty flowers and birds. A sign reads: "Every article in this case is made of our tin plates."

We continued on into the mill.

A man knocked the mouth of a blast furnace open. A thunderous roar, a blinding flash, and the molten ore burst forth! It flowed through grooves into waiting ladles. Heavy sulphurous fumes filled the air. Men hustled about poking into the grooves to prevent the metal from clogging. A misstep and a foot is lost. It melts away like snow flakes on a window pane.

When the ladle was full, they covered it with a shovel full of fine coal. A thousand stars shot into the air as the coal touched the golden liquid!

In the rolling mills a man delved into the furnace. With a long rod he yanked the red hot pig iron onto a flat topped car. Another man wheeled the pig iron to the roller. A deft jerk and the gleaming iron slipped into the jaws of the roller. A loud roar and shooting sparks bombarded the quickly turned back of the worker.

As we came out at the river side of the plant, we saw flat-bottomed scows swaying at their moorings. Great electric shovels suspended on overhead cranes swooped down and bit into their cargo. Huge magnets lifted a ton of pig iron and disposed of it, at will. Freight cars were hoisted into mid-air, turned over, emptied and replaced on the rails again. Steam hammers boomed the heroic song of labor, shaping iron like butter. Machines made wire and sheets of steel -- and machines made machines!

Machines, living architecture, the miracle of man! Created by him to make himself Master of the earth, the sea and the sky.

On our way back to Mr. Keen's car, I remarked: "I would think that I was back at home, at Magnitorsk, only there there are so many chimneys without smoke, and modern apartment houses for workers, with clubhouses, children's nurseries and playgrounds."

"But, where have you these things in the Soviet Union?'' Mr. Keen said with a grin and he pointed to the powder boxes in the glass case.