Lockheed has been one of American's largest corporations and most important defense contractors from World War II to the present day (since 1995 as part of Lockheed Martin Aeronautics Company). During the postwar era, its executives enacted complicated business responses to black demands for equality. Based on the papers of a personnel executive, the memoir of an African American employee, interviews, and company publications, this narrative history offers a unique inside perspective on the evolution of equal employment and affirmative action policies at Lockheed Aircraft's massive Georgia plant from the early 1950s through the early 1980s. Randall L. Patton provides a rare, perhaps unique, account of African American struggle and management response, set within the context of the regional and national struggles for civil rights. The book describes the complex interplay of black protest, federal policy, and management action in a crucial space in the national economy and within the South, contributing to business history, policy history, labor history, and civil rights history.

Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula juts into Lake Superior, pointing from the western Upper Peninsula toward Canada. Native peoples mined copper there for at least five thousand years, but the industrial heyday of the "Copper Country" began in the late nineteenth century, as immigrants from Cornwall, Italy, Finland, and elsewhere came to work in mines largely run from faraway cities such as New York and Boston. In those cities, suburbs had developed to allow wealthier classes to escape the dirt and grime of the industrial center. In the Copper Country, however, the suburbs sprang up nearly adjacent to mines, mills, and coal docks. Sarah Fayen Scarlett contrasts two types of neighborhoods that transformed Michigan's mining frontier between 1875 and 1920: paternalistic company towns built for the workers and elite suburbs created by the region's network of business leaders. Richly illustrated with drawings, maps, and photographs, Company Suburbs details the development of these understudied cultural landscapes that arose when elites began to build housing that was architecturally distinct from that of the multiethnic workers within the old company towns. They followed national trends and created social hierarchies in the process, but also, uniquely, incorporated pre-existing mining features and adapted company housing practices. This idiosyncratic form of suburbanization belies the assumption that suburbs and industry were independent developments. Built environments evince interrelationships among landscapes, people, and power. Scarlett's work offers new perspectives on emerging national attitudes linking domestic architecture with class and gender identity. Company Suburbs complements scholarship on both industrial communities and early suburban growth, increasing our understanding of the ways hierarchies associated with industrial capitalism have been built into the shared environments of urban areas as well as seemingly peripheral American towns.

Monotown: Urban Dreams Brutal Imperatives examines the post-industrial transformation and transnational legacy of single industry towns, which emerged as a distinctive socio-political project of urbanisation in the Soviet Union during the 1920s. Monotowns took form through the establishment of industrial enterprises strewn across remote parts of the Siberian hinterland, around which cities had to be built to provide labour. This model entailed the relocation of vast populations which would require services, housing, and social and physical infrastructure, all linked to a given industrial enterprise. By examining the ways in which monotowns have adapted over time in this expanded field, this book establishes a broader yet more specific dialogue about the challenges faced by towns within this particular single-industry etymology.

The Hawaiian pineapple industry emerged in the late nineteenth century as part of an attempt to diversify the Hawaiian economy from dependence on sugar cane as its only staple industry. Here, economic historian Richard A. Hawkins presents a definitive history of an industry from its modest beginnings to its emergence as a major contributor to the American industrial narrative. He traces the rise and fall of the corporate giants who dominated the global canning world for much of the twentieth century. Drawing from a host of familiar economic models and an unparalleled body of research, Hawkins analyses the entrepreneurial development and twentieth-century migration of the pineapple canning industry in Hawaii. The result is not only a comprehensive history, but also a unique story of American innovation and ingenuity amid the rising tides of globalization.

Women's emancipation through productive labour was a key tenet of socialist politics in post-World War II Yugoslavia. Mass industrialisation under Tito led many young women to join traditionally 'feminised' sectors, and as a consequence the textile sector grew rapidly, fast becoming a gendered symbol of industrialisation, consumption and socialist modernity. By the 1980s Yugoslavia was one of the world's leading producers of textiles and garments. The break-up of Yugoslavia in 1991, however, resulted in factory closures, bankruptcy and layoffs, forcing thousands of garment industry workers into precarious and often exploitative private-sector jobs. Drawing on more than 60 oral history interviews with former and current garment workers, as well as workplace periodicals and contemporary press material collected across Croatia, Macedonia, Serbia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Slovenia, Women and Industry in the Balkans charts the rise and fall of the Yugoslav textile sector, as well as the implications of this post-socialist transition, for the first time. In the process, the book explores broader questions about memories of socialism, lingering feelings of attachment to the socialist welfare system and the complexity of the post-socialist era. This is important reading for all scholars working on the history and politics of Yugoslavia and the Balkans, oral history, memory studies and gender studies.

It seems bizarre that in a place as crowded, noisy and expensive as London there are still wasted unused spaces. The relentless drive for regeneration across Britain's capital deceives us into thinking that every spare building and patch of ground is under development. But this vast metropolis of more than 10 million people hides many secrets and unexpected treasures from the city's unique 2000-year history. In Abandoned London, read about the Abbey Mills Pumping Station, a facility created in 1858 to deal with 'the Great Stink', and now London's Italian-Gothic cathedral of sewage; or the subterranean Finsbury Park underground reservoir, a space capable of holding five million gallons of water and today used as an occasional movie location; or the remnants of Highgate's overground steam railway station, now a protected bat habitat; or the Clapham deep-level shelters, constructed in World War II and designed to provide protection for locals against aerial bombing raids; or the Haggerston public baths, part of an early 20th century building programme devised to improve London's hygiene. These photographs of abandoned places capture a moment in time. Some of the buildings have since been demolished or refurbished, but many are still there, neglected and uncared for. These places have great value and a rich significance, offering us a glimpse of past worlds.

It is 1615. Shakespeare is still alive and the country is at peace. James 1 of England (James VI of Scotland) has been on the throne since the childless Elisabeth I died in 1603. He claimed the throne by virtue of the fact that he was direct in line of descent from Henry VII, his great-grandfather. The English Navy, which had been founded as a standing force by Henry VIII and had defended the country from several Spanish Armadas during the Elisabethan era, had been neglected. It needed rebuilding and this meant new ships and plenty of stout English (and Welsh) oak. Luckily for James, one of his closest advisors was an admiral, Sir Robert Mansell, who having given up his naval career and become an industrialist and entrepreneur (as well as a Member of Parliament), saw an opportunity to secure his new-found business of coal mining and glass-making. Mansell applied to the King to grant him a patent forbidding the use of timber for smelting (mainly iron and glass) and on 23 May 1615 the papers were signed. Thus, with the stroke of his quill, the king started the industrial revolution that turned the British Isles from an agrarian economy, based upon wool, water power and wind power, to one where coal and steam brought about unimaginable developments in trade and industry. It was following the signing of the 1615 patent that glassmaking in Britain went from a peripatetic, nomadic business which chased the fuel from clearing to clearing in the dwindling forests, to one where the fuel travelled to the kilns. By virtue of the fact that kilns didn't have to move as the wood ran out, they could be bigger and better, brick-built with chimneys and flues, which made the glass stronger and more durable. It was into this exciting, changing world of glassmaking that Sir Kenelm Digby developed his strong verre Anglais bottles which enabled the production of (lightly) sparkling bottle-fermented ciders and wines. The Knight who invented Champagne is the story of King James I, Admiral Sir Robert Mansell and Sir Kenelm Digby and the part they played between 1615 and 1630 in revolutionising the production of glass. The changes they helped bring about led to the development and production of stronger glass that could be used for making bottles that would withstand the pressure caused by a secondary-fermentation in the bottle. By 1662 we know that it was common practice by cidermakers, vintners and coopers to add raisins and sugar to wine and cider at bottling to start a secondary fermentation in the bottle. All of this happened several years before Dom Perignon, often credited with 'inventing Champagne', took up his position as cellarer at the Abbaye Saint-Pierre d'Hautvillers.

International Arms Trade has always been a powerful and multi-functional constituent of world politics and international diplomacy. Sending military advisors abroad and promoting arms sales, each legitimizing and supporting the other, became indispensable tools of alliance-making starting from the eve of the First World War until today. To the German Empire, as a relative latecomer to imperialistic rivalry in the struggle for colonies around the word in the late 19th century, arms exports performed a decisive service in stimulating and strengthening the German military-based expansionist economic foreign policy and provided effective tools to create new alliances around the globe. Therefore, from the outset, the German armament firms' marketing and sales operations to the global arms market but especially to the Ottoman Empire, under the rule of Sultan Abdulhamid II, were openly and strongly supported by Kaiser Wilhelm II, Bismarck and the other decision-makers in German Foreign Policy. Based on extensive multinational archival research in Germany, Turkey, Britain and the United States, Arming the Sultan explores the decisive impact of arms exports on the formation and stimulation of Germany's expansionist foreign economic policy towards the Ottoman Empire. Making an important contribution to current scholarship on the political economy of the international arms trade, Yorulmaz's innovative book Arming the Sultan reveals that arms exports, specifically under the shadow of personal diplomacy, proved to be an indispensable and integral part of Germany's foreign economic policy during the period leading up to WW1.

The pottery industry was key for Burton-in-Lonsdale on the borders of Yorkshire, Lancashire and Cumbria for nearly three centuries until its demise in 1944. This book tells the story of Richard Bateson, the last potter of Black Burton, a renowned thrower and teacher. It encapsulates the history and traditions of this lost trade; the personalities, the struggles, the humour alongside the hard work. The book is a grand contribution to the history of Burton, the history of pottery and the story of rural arts in transformation from an industrial to a more artistic endeavour. "The most comprehensive collection of history, stories, first-hand accounts and photographs we are ever likely to see... social history of a high order; rooted in its context, explored by those who really understand how it was." From the Foreword by Mark McKergow "(Richard) didn't like Bernard Leach's pots, because all Leach's pots had a wobble and Richard's never did." David Frith, Brookhouse Pottery

The most significant debate in global economic history over the past twenty years has dealt with the Great Divergence, the economic gap between different parts of the world. Thus far, this debate has focused on China, India and north-western Europe, particularly Great Britain. This book shifts the focus to ask how Japan became the only non-western county that managed, at least partially, to modernize its economy and start to industrialize in the 19th century. Using a range of empirical data, Peer Vries analyses the role of the state in Japan's economic growth from the Meiji Restoration to World War II, and asks whether Japan's economic success can be attributed to the rise of state power. Asserting that the state's involvement was fundamental in Japan's economic 'catching up', he demonstrates how this was built on legacies from the previous Tokugawa period. In this book, Vries deepens our understanding of the Great Divergence in global history by re-examining how Japan developed and modernized against the odds.

In this book, Sean Safford compares the recent history of Allentown, Pennsylvania, with that of Youngstown, Ohio. Allentown has seen a noticeable rebound over the course of the past twenty years. Facing a collapse of its steel-making firms, its economy has reinvented itself by transforming existing companies, building an entrepreneurial sector, and attracting inward investment. Youngstown was similar to Allentown in its industrial history, the composition of its labor force, and other important variables, and yet instead of adapting in the face of acute economic crisis, it fell into a mean race to the bottom.

Challenging various theoretical perspectives on regional socioeconomic change, "Why the Garden Club Couldn't Save Youngstown" argues that the structure of social networks among the cities' economic, political, and civic leaders account for the divergent trajectories of post-industrial regions. It offers a probing historical explanation for the decline, fall, and unlikely rejuvenation of the Rust Belt. Emphasizing the power of social networks to shape action, determine access to and control over information and resources, define the contexts in which problems are viewed, and enable collective action in the face of externally generated crises, this book points toward present-day policy prescriptions for the ongoing plight of mature industrial regions in the U.S. and abroad.

This book presents new research on spaces for science and processes of interurban and transnational knowledge transfer and exchange in the imperial metropolis of Vienna in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Chapters discuss Habsburg science policy, metropolitan natural history museums, large technical projects including the Ringstrasse and water pipelines from the Alps, urban geology, geography, public reports on polar exploration, exchanges of ethnographic objects, popular scientific societies and scientifically oriented adult education. The infrastructures and knowledge spaces described here were preconditions for the explosion of creativity known as 'Vienna 1900.'

The Press and the People is the first full-length study of cheap print in early modern Scotland. It traces the production and distribution of ephemeral publications from the nation's first presses in the early sixteenth century through to the age of Burns in the late eighteenth. It explores the development of the Scottish book trade in general and the production of slight and popular texts in particular. Focusing on the means by which these works reached a wide audience, it illuminates the nature of their circulation in both urban and rural contexts. Specific chapters examine single-sheet imprints such as ballads and gallows speeches, newssheets and advertisements, as well as the little pamphlets that contained almanacs and devotional works, stories and songs. The book demonstrates just how much more of this literature was once printed than now survives and argues that Scotland had a much larger market for such material than has been appreciated. By illustrating the ways in which Scottish printers combined well-known titles from England with a distinctive repertoire of their own, The Press and the People transforms our understanding of popular literature in early modern Scotland and its contribution to British culture more widely.