Jeff Manes: Ex-steel worker has heart of gold

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Updated: February 2, 2012 8:14AM

“And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me

Shine until tomorrow, let it be.

I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary come to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be ... .”

— Lennon/McCartney

John Bianchi is a huge Beatles fan, but one of his favorite childhood memories is watching “The Three Stooges” and “Flash Gordon” with his father while his mother cooked spaghetti.

Bianchi’s dad worked at Youngstown Sheet & Tube for 35 years; his mother was a cook and a seamstress at Hoosier Boys’ Town.

John retired from ArcelorMittal’s No. 2 BOF in April with 38 years’ seniority but spent the majority of his career in the mill’s coke plants.

Bianchi, 61, lives in the Black Oak neighborhood of Gary with his wife, Shirley. He was raised in East Chicago and graduated from Bishop Noll Institute.

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“Jeff, I don’t know why you want to interview me; I’m not an interesting person,” Bianchi began.

Talk to me.

“I grew up three blocks from East Chicago Roosevelt High School; all my friends went to Roosevelt. Because of my Italian mother, I had to go to a Catholic school. I love her.”

Your parents were born in Italy.

“Yes, about 40 miles southeast of Rome. Everybody needs to go to Italy one time. It’s a different lifestyle. The Italians take time at life. But there’s nothin’ like this country.”

Your immediate family?

“Shirley and I had a regular Brady Bunch. She had four kids from her first marriage; I had one child from my first marriage and then we had Danielle and Jonnica. And now we’ve adopted three children, Reagan, Kennedy and Tyler. Reagan and Kennedy are 9-year-old twin girls; Tyler is 6.”

When did you adopt them?

“Last year, but they’ve been in our custody as permanent guardianship for about four or five years. They are all Shirley’s granddaughter’s kids.”

That’s really something.

“We do a lot of camping, mostly at the Dunes. Jeff, the way you feel about the Grand Kankakee Marsh is the way I feel about the Dunes. When I die, I want my ashes spread out there; it’s just a beautiful place.

“We’ve camped at places like Potato Creek and Prophetstown in Lafayette. Nothing really out of the area, Indiana mostly.

“The greatest vacation I’ve ever taken was traveling all around Lake Michigan. It’s just as good as going to the Grand Canyon. I went all the way up the Michigan side by Mackinac Island; it was absolutely beautiful. You can drink the water off the island, that’s how clear it was. Then, we came down the Wisconsin side. If you do that, you’ll never forget it.”

Tell me about East Chicago in the early ’60s.

“East Chicago was the best place in the world to live. It was a melting pot. Everybody cared about you. I lived on the north side. If I got in trouble on the south side, by the time I walked those eight blocks, my mother already knew about it. That’s the way it was back then.

“If you had a beef with somebody, you met at the park, duked it out, and it was over with. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. I remember one time, by accident, we broke somebody’s window while playing sandlot baseball. We thought about running away, but we didn’t. We went up to the homeowner and said, ‘Hey, we broke your window; we’re sorry.’ ”

What happened next?

“The homeowner said, ‘Don’t worry about it. Go play ball.’ ”

Your family attended Immaculate Conception Catholic Church.

“Yes, on the corner of Olcott and 149th. In that neighborhood was a lot of Italians. My godparents, Pete and Mary Calacci, lived right across the street from the church.

“Mary was Father Campagna’s administrator for 30 years at Boys’ Town. Mary had a philosophy that there was good in every boy that came to live there, no matter how hard a life they had or how much trouble they’d been in. I learned a lot from Mary; she was a beautiful person.

“Pete taught me about solidarity; he was the president of United Steelworkers Local 1010 from 1956 to 1962.”

That means he was president during the 116-day strike in ’59. Tell me about when you worked at Zel’s Roast Beef in East Chicago.

“Stan Routeman was the creator of Zel’s. Great guy. Stan was in his 70s when he sold out to a corporation.”

John, the beefs and chili cheese dogs at that Zel’s on Columbus Drive and Euclid were hard to beat back in the 1970s.

“Stan would take like six to eight hours to cook the meat for his sandwiches. He took a lot of pride in his food and his employees.”

Explain what a “mix” is.

“While working at Zel’s, the kids from the neighborhood would order a mix, which was a squirt of root beer, grape, Hawaiian Punch, Coke, Sprite ... . We don’t eat out a lot now that I’m on a fixed income, but once in a while I’ll take the kids to Subway. They’ll get sandwiches and I’ll order a mix. I tried it and liked it.”

My buddy Lil’ Joe Gutierrez has written a novel entitled “The Neighborhood.” Joe grew up near you.

“I went to school with Lil’ Joe’s sister, Esther. She was a really great person.”

Our mutual friend, Jerry Edmonds, played at your wedding.

“People still talk about that. Jerry played ‘Heart of Gold’ by Neil Young in memory of my dad, who had passed away, and for Shirley’s oldest daughter who was killed by a drunk driver. She was just shy of her 16th birthday. I love Jerry.”

The mill?

“I’m glad they’re pushing safety so hard. Guys at the hall like Don Jones and John Gelon do a heckuva job. I don’t miss the mill or the work, but I do miss the people.

“Jeff, about 15 of us were waiting for an outage. There must’ve been over 400 years of experience in that room. Everybody had at least 30 years’ seniority. A 28-year-old college grad came in to line us up.”

And?

“I said, ‘Look, tell us what you want us to do and leave. Come see us at the end of the day.’ He asked, ‘Why?’ I said, ‘Because I don’t want anybody getting hurt.’ By the end of the day, all the work was done and we all went home safe.”

* * *

Bianchi is a diabetic with high blood pressure and a colon cancer survivor. He also walks with a cane these days. He attributes that to years of working underneath the pusher and the door machine changing shear bolts and the countless times he carried a pair of 60-pound idlers to the top of the coal handling section of the coke plant.

John Bianchi’s back might not be as strong as it was when he wore a younger man’s set of flame retardant greens, but he still wears a heart of gold on his sleeve. A more likeable or interesting man, I’ve yet to meet.