The Owens Machines
At the beginning of the twentieth century, in Toledo, Ohio, Michael J. Owens patented a machine that changed glass-bottle production forever. A first-generation Irish American, Owens had begun working in the glass industry as a child laborer at the age of ten, shoveling coal into the furnace. At fifteen, he worked his way out of the unskilled ranks to become a glassblower.
By the time he was in his thirties, in the 1890s, he had climbed a long ladder and landed a position as factory superintendent at the Libbey Glass Company. Shortly thereafter, with financial backing from his boss Edward Drummond Libbey, Owens tackled the problem troubling glass entrepreneurs.
After years of trial and error, in 1903 Owens unveiled what would become the first commercially successful automatic bottle-making machine. In the following decades, he introduced a series of newer models, each reducing labor and increasing productivity, and went on to make millions of dollars.
The largest of the Owens machines was more than sixteen feet wide and weighed more than seventeen elephants. A cylindrical agglomeration of pipes, pumps, and levers, it rotated above a pool of molten glass. Fifteen radial arms pumped down to dip into the pool and suck up just enough glass to make a single bottle. Each arm then rapidly blew a bottle to shape with a series of molds and compressed air.
The machines Owens patented ran twenty-four hours a day, requiring only a modicum of low-wage labor, and no artisans. They transformed the industry. A single one could produce as many bottles as fifty glass workers.
Deskilling and Decline
In 1905, before the machines infiltrated the industry, there were nine thousand glass bottle artisans in the United States. By 1917, the number had dwindled to two thousand, at which point Owens machines made half of all glass containers in the country. By 1920, they had displaced most bottle artisans, forcing them into jobs classified as unskilled. Among the unskilled ranks were operators of Owens machines, who worked longer hours and earned two-thirds less a day than glassblowers.
It’s tempting to accuse the machines of obliterating the craft of bottle making. Before we jump to that conclusion, we need to think about what we mean when we use the word “craft,” and why we lament the loss of handwork at the expense of mechanization. In the modern sense of the word, craft typically implies a degree of freedom, creativity, and autonomy. You might think of a craftsperson as someone who has a say in what they make, what it looks like, and how they make it.