Andrew Carnegie is probably both the definitive example of the American Dream rags-to-riches story, starting out as a poor Scottish immigrant and working his way to the King of Steel, as well as the definitive example of the walking contradiction that is a robber baron, and exploiter of labor and resources, who gave away the vast majority of his incredible fortune to charity.
Peter Krass’s biography, Carnegie, does an amazing job of explaining and illustrating this contradiction, and all of Carnegie’s odd quirks - a pacifist who manufactured armor plates, a ruthless capitalist who wrote treatises on how labor and capital can cooperate, then did exactly what he opposed in those essays, and then later lavished expensive libraries and cultural centers on the towns he’d used. Carnegie is excellent not as a propagandistic portrait of either Carnegie the philanthropist of Carnegie the robber baron, but rather of Carnegie the man.
Andrew Carnegie’s life, due to his wealth and projects, ties closely with the major events occurring in history in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Examples of this abound - Carnegie was a major player in the development of labor unions (or, rather, in the antagonizing of them), with the Homestead strike occurring at one of his factories, Carnegie was part of the Anti-Imperialist league opposing the annexation of the Philippines, Carnegie contributed to the gold vs. silver currency debate, Carnegie worked closely with Presidents Roosevelt and Taft on his world peace crusade. Because of his influence at the time, reading a biography of Andrew Carnegie necessarily must discuss many of the major events and issues, coinciding beautifully with textbook readings or class assignments concerning the Gilded Age.
Before reading this biography, I knew next to nothing about Andrew Carnegie. I knew he made steel, and I knew he gave money away. Beyond that, I essentially had no knowledge of him. I did not know that he was a Scottish immigrant, and that his family had worked on radical labor reform movements in their home country, thereby contributing to the guilt that helped inspire him to preach the Gospel of Wealth and donate $325 million to charitable causes. I did not know, and I would not assume, that he used his considerable influence to try to prevent the annexation of the Philippines, or that in his last years he would embark on an idealistic crusade to save the world from war (which, in 1914, all fell apart.) I would not have guessed that he lived in two separate castles in Scotland, or that he got his start, not in steel, but rather in the railroad industry, working his way into it from starting as a telegram boy. Of course, I could not have told you about his wife, Louise, or his daughter, Margaret, or his love of golf. But, in addition to these biographical details, I also learned a great deal of historical information, learning about the history of steel and how it contributed to the growth of industry in America, as well as events like the Homestead strike or the Taft administration. It was also interesting to read about history told largely from the viewpoint and about the events surrounding one of the richest men in the world at the time. More often than not, the industrial captains are shown not so much as people but as sort of evil sorcerers, conjuring up wealth by some sort of black magic, but this book made it possible for me to see how that life was lived, and how the rich men of the Gilded Age really were the most powerful men in the country.
As with reading any bibliography, however, perhaps its most important message is the easy-to-forget one that the people in history were really people. Usually, due to the expansiveness of history, people can only get as much space as is needed to discuss their most major contributions. When reading an entire bibliography of a person, however, it delves into not only their historical significance but also their personal lives. Therefore, a biography serves as a potent reminder that history is full of people who were real at one point, with all the flaws and quirks that make people human. Seeing Carnegie as a titan of steel with a benevolent heart is one matter, contradictory as it can sometimes be, but seeing him as a Golf-playing, doomed-to-fail-peace-crusade leading, castle-owning, family-loving, Shakespeare and Burns-quoting, rags-to-richesing, president-courting, union-fighting, library-building, charity-promoting, harshly competing, steel-monopolizing, pool-forming, Imperialism-opposing, Scottish man, from the time he was a little immigrant bobbin boy to the white-bearded old man who died with most of his money gone to the construction of public libraries and the like, breaks wide open that impersonal curtain of history.
I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in learning more about the Gilded Age through the lense of one of it’s most powerful men. It is also important to note, however, than one be willing to work their way through 758 pages of biography of Carnegie, as the book is by no means short, although this does mean it conveys many, many details. It is immaculately researched, with numerous quotes from letters written by Carnegie and his family and associates, and no Carnegie-related stone left unturned. The writing is not all that exciting, but the content certainly is. Furthermore, as I said, Peter Krass’s Carnegie does excellent work at portraying Carnegie in all of his contradictory glory and not shying away from either his dirty deals or his laudable accomplishments. Carnegie comes highly recommended, with an honest look at one of history’s most wealthiest, and most interesting, people.