‘Merican-Made: Beth Macy’s Factory Man

Several years back after teaching lessons on US labor history I became interested in modern labor practices and how to be a thoughtful consumer. Our family income was improving and while we are far from buying jewelry or vacation homes, there were opportunities here and there to get a piece of furniture or a nice item of clothing. Skipping Craig’s list and looking at new couches in a store was a treat. I started to wonder: Where do the things I buy come from? And how was it made? Are the workers making a decent wages or slaving in a sweat shop? I decided to try to avoid cheap, to purchase less, and when possible, to buy items made in the United States and/or goods that have a greener history.Factory Man

This has made for some interesting challenges on the shopping front. For instance, if you do not favor the expensive New Balance sneakers made in the USA, choices are slim. I also know that my strategy does not make all that much of a difference, is not sustainable, and probably rests on questionable assumptions. What I do know, though, is that is has made me a more conscious consumer. That, I hope, has been to the good.

I mention all of this to help you understand my thoughts about journalist Beth Macy’s Factory Man: How One Furniture Maker Battled Offshoring, Stayed Local – and Helped Save and American Town. It is a fascinating book, or rather three books, welded together. Well-written, engaging, and popular, Factory Man also highlights that “made in America” is about more than economics. It touches us emotionally, nationally, and ethically.

One focus of Factory Man is the business history Bassett Furniture Industries, a Virginia company founded in the early 1900s by two Bassett brothers. The company took advantage of inexpensive labor from Appalachia, building a factory town and exercising all manner of control as the firm flourished. Bassett furniture appealed to the burgeoning middle class. Since copyrighting furniture styles is well-nigh impossible, a smart designer – and Bassett invested in talent here – can copy and adapt with tremendous success. There was no culture of craftsmanship or innovation at Bassett, save making more money. Bassett’s growth and expansion, up until the threat of globalization, mirrored that of many other domestic industries geared toward the broad consumer market. Control expenses, find new ways to market, and seek profit.

Macy prefers people to business, though, so much of her attention returns to the people involved in Bassett. She spends years tracking down family lore, from sibling rivalries to sexual relationships between management and labor. Families involved in the furniture business inter-marry, form partnerships and break up acrimoniously. It is a bit like medieval history, without the flags. Macy is equally attuned to the history of labor in the factory towns, interviewing workers and their families. Their voices are valuable, but their perspective is limited, just as their straits were curtailed. Working at Bassett provided a wage but not much of a way of life. Those with ambition left the company towns. Much of Factory Man is colored through the lens of an inquisitive outsider trying to make sense of complicated family dynasties and their impact on the local communities.

The final key component of the book is the story of John D. Bassett III, family outsider who returns and leads the political charge against the tide of Chinese furniture imports. Led by Larry Moh, a brilliant business man, Chinese companies began to use very same techniques as Bassett to increase market share. Chinese manufacturers kept labor costs very low, controlled costs of ingredients, and copied designs. American companies responded by directing more manufacturing to Asia and shifting attention to retailing directly. US manufacturing jobs steadily disappeared. The strategy was at best a delaying tactic. Asian manufacturers started selling to other retailers and US furniture companies lost more share of the market. JD Bassett III put a halt to the trend by building a coalition of American furniture manufacturers and pressing an anti-dumping case against Chinese furniture makers. It took years and millions of dollars, but he eventually prevailed. The US case was “won” resulting in penalties and fines that eventually made it back to US companies.

It is, on one level, a great story: a “factory man” successfully fights globalization and keeps a local industry and community alive. Tom Hanks has optioned the book and it is easy to see him in the lead role.

On the other hand, Macy’s book raises more questions than it answers. Who, exactly, has won or lost here? Do workers benefit? It is difficult to argue that Bassett, despite the jobs it provided, values labor any more than its foreign competitors. Regulation and other macro-economic factors account for the differences. The US furniture industry, too, did not seem to do anything creative to either keep jobs in the US or to distinguish itself. The book regularly highlights the lack of investment, research, or innovation in Bassett industries. It is possible, in fact, to argue that the domestic furniture industry got what it deserved.

Factory Man left me a little wiser and more thoughtful. Reaching for the “made in America” label is no guarantee, but it remains a good place to start. And when it comes to furniture, I may be looking for antiques.

David Potash

Guns At Last Light: The Good War Done Well

In 2013 Rick Atkinson finished the third and final volume of his popular history of the United States military in the WWII Atlantic theater, The Guns at Last Light: The War in Europe, 1944-1945. It is the best kind of history for the broader public: well-written, informative, and driven by a clear focus. World War II is reputed to be humanity’s largest collective enterprise. It is damned difficult task for an historian to capture the scope of the conflict and still make it understandable. Atkinson handles the challenge with skill and verve.Guns at Last Light

The first two volumes, An Army at Dawn: The War in North Africa, 1942-1943, and The Day of Battle: The War in Sicily and Italy, 1943-1944, are equally well written. The first garnered a Pulitzer Prize. With the third in place, it is possible to see Atkinson’s strengths and weaknesses more clearly. The volumes, too, drive home the importance of revisiting the war and what it meant to America and the world. There are no easy answers when it comes to World War II.

Atkinson is an expert and mixing personal details with broader, well-established history. He knows how to maintain drama and interest with just the right quote culled from a journal or letter. To his credit, Atkinson never lets the reader forget that this was not just an international conflict pitting organization against organization. It was a battle among people. Maintaining that agenda, without losing sight of the larger shifts, makes for gripping history.

He is also writer with an expansive vocabulary and a love of rich prose. With a less sure hand, or a topic less important, the florid language might seem overdone. Considering he is writing about a war that killed 60 million, extremes are necessary.

On the other hand, Atkinson is not primarily an historian of battles or strategy. These books are not the best resource to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of the Normandy campaign or to consider supply line challenges. Atkinson mentions them, to be sure, but they are referenced in terms of people and ideas, not as examples of grand design. Further, the Atlantic Theater is best understood within the context of a global conflict. Atkinson’s theme – what the US military did and experienced – is valid. However, thoughtful readers should realize that there cannot be one definitive account of the war.

There are many volumes looking at WWII from a range of perspectives. What Atkinson has done in the Liberation Trilogy is make the heroic efforts of the United States military in the Atlantic Theater, warts and all, with its incomprehensible scale, and human sized. It is accessible intellectually and emotionally. It is an impressive achievement.

David Potash

You Can’t Keep Them Down On The Farm – Glaeser’s Triumph of the City

Triumph of the CityEdward Glaeser, Harvard economist and prolific blogger, is enraptured with cities. His 2011 book, Triumph of the City, is a paean to all things urban, with a special place for the twenty-first century mega-city. The work is a breezy airport read. Informative and lightly pedantic, it is a departure for Glaeser, who is a well-respected economic researcher. It is a work well suited for what we used to call the middlebrow market.

Triumph jets around the globe, zooming in on this city or that from 35,000 feet . There is little to no original scholarship here. Instead, Glaeser has skillfully assembled a host of anecdotes and a panoply of data points to argue that cities are good for people and the planet. His narrative rests on his observations and insights. He is smart, well-informed, and confident in his prose. The argument driving the book is summarized neatly in the subtitle: “How our greatest invention makes us richer, smarter, greener, healthier, and happier.”

Cities, Glaeser claims, are magnets for smart human talent. As they create opportunities, they and their inhabitants flourish. Density promotes competition and competition forces innovation. Glaeser promotes ever greater density here. He criticizes mindless historic preservation as an impediment to urban success with a nod to Jane Jacobs. The narrative presents pros and cons of various urban policies, but is distant from the human politics that create the cities and decide those policies.

For all of Glaeser’s urban enthusiasm, the book has an oddly antiseptic feel to it. Some is due to the author’s relative lack of interest in people as individuals. He is, after all, a social scientist. The deeper reason is that Glaeser’s argument is fundamentally about the relative benefit of cities to society; it is not about the joy of living in a city or in a particular city. This is not an issue of class, integrity, or design. I share Glaeser’s affirmation of high-density mixed use, though I am less keen on the high-rise. Nor is it about crime or grit. Missing is a sense of the flavors that go with city life.

A certain kind of urban aesthetics about how one leads one’s life necessarily must inform writing about cities. For all of Glaeser’s intellectual enthusiasm, his book does not carry much personal passion for city life. The tensions, interactions, and felicity that accompany the forced socialization that accompanies being squeezed together in a city do not complicate this work. Glaeser does not strike this reader as in love with cities, though he certainly does wax warmly for New York. But I see him in a high-rise condo, perhaps on the upper East Side. It is difficult to picture him in a walk-up in Brooklyn or Queens. It came as no surprise to learn that he now lives in the suburbs with his family and children.

I guess my aesthetic is just different – another good reason cities are a great place to live.

David Potash