They told me (with marvelous old photos) that Slover Mountain had been several times higher, back in the late 1800s, when the Hanna family bought it and began turning its underlying limestone into cement. And that before it would no longer be worth mining, it would be a pit at least as deep as it ever was high. This picture was taken in 2003, when it had been shrinking for 113 years, if I calculate aright.
Our job in the lab was to collect and analyze samples of a wondrous array of finished and intermediate products from quicklime through gun-plastic1 to straight Portland cement. With the help of a specialized slide-rule and a noisy Marchant calculator, translated the raw results into values of theoretical parameters, and fed those to the folks who would adjust the mix and the grind at the raw stage, through sintering in the kilns, and into the final finish mills. Marvelous process, about which I learned a lot, but not nearly enough.
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To work there, of course, I had to sign up with the United Cement, Lime, and Gypsum Workers International Union and let them deduct dues from my paychecks. That was the extent of our association, and I’d have avoided it, if I coulda.
After reading the first pamphlet they sent in the mail describing Russ Loveland, our “Old Man”, and other management types as vile oppressors, I chucked all subsequent communications unread. As I’ve remarked, management was always very nice to me. I didn’t feel a bit oppressed at the “Old Man”’s barbecues. Never joined another union until 1966, when the California Teacher’s Association became briefly inescapable. And never since.
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