HearHere HistorEsch

“When I first saw the blast furnace C – I did not climb it much – I became nauseous. It was a like a monster, even bigger than A and B. It was 100-meters-tall! A blast furnace is always measured by the diameter of its creusé; A was 8 meters, B was 9,2 meters, C was 11,2 meters. You became dizzy when you saw this monster. I thought to myself: take a hold of yourself, you have to work on it. So, C got constructed and was fired up. It worked fantastically. Of course, it was very modern, fully electric controlled. There were no analogue instruments showing how many bars the pumps were applying. All the controls were on screens, everything was electronically controlled. It even had a gravel system. So, it worked fine.“

“For over 100 years, they used coke to melt the iron. And suddenly, in the 1960s, they started using fuel, adding it into the oven. This was done over fuel lances which were used to inject fuel oil called mazout. It was very cheap. Once the fuel got even cheaper, they started adding it into the blast furnace C. We all watched while they were doing so. They asked which lances to use. Well, we thought we simply take the lances which we were also using in the A and B. But there was something we did not think about. In the A and B, the air was 1000°C, but in the C, it was 1200°C. The lances all melted down. So, what should we do now? We got a tip from Paul Würth who used a Finnish steel which could withstand 1200°C, so we used this type to inject the fuel. We injected 500 tons of fuel a day. It became more popular than coke and it helped melting.”

“In 1994, there was a huge bang. We were asking ourselves “what the hell is going on?”. It was a sound as if someone fired a canon in front of your house. The melted iron inside the blast furnace C ran through the armor into the water. When melted iron gets in touch with water, the water is divided into hydrogen and oxygen. There was a big explosion. The blast furnace C was shut down for a week. Theoretically, we had to leave it shut down and refurbish it. But the general direction said no. It would get repaired and run until it was not needed anymore. It was repaired temporarily, but one year later, there was a new explosion. In the meantime, I had retired, but I heard it all the way to Soleuvre. I told my wife: something happened at Belval. That’s not normal. Indeed, the melted iron had once more got through to the water. This time, even more. It was not repairable, they had to shut it down. But a Schmelz without iron cannot function. So, they rapidly fired up the blast furnace B until the end in 1997. In the meantime, the electronic furnaces had arrived. The Chinese bought blast furnace C and rebuild it in China.”

“Here used to be the hangars of Lallange, they used to be in the ‘Lankelzer Wisen’, it is where we used to play as children. There were corrugated iron shacks where airplanes were occasionally stored. Then we used to climb onto those airplanes. I still vividly remember how there used to be a double-decker plane. How old was I during this time? I think about six or seven years old. So, I used to climb around on this plane, until one time I fell with my leg through the back wing. I immediately decided to get out of there because I was afraid of destroying everything there.“

“There, right beside it, used to stand the tower. Afterwards, it became a kindergarten. We also used to climb around on top of the tower. The area surrounding the tower was open; there weren’t any highways or anything nearby. The open space, starting from the disposal site to the forests, is where we used to play. I used to live in the ‘Beienhaiser’, so to the right and left of this area, we used to build our own small huts. So, we would constantly climb around on the top of the tower. Of course, this wasn‘t very safe. As small boys and girls, this was still a height where we could have seriously injured ourselves. We used to play there until one day, this guy – I still know his name because I know him – shot at us with an air rifle. After that incident, we didn’t climb up there anymore. He didn’t just shoot at us to scare us; he did it simply because he had an air rifle at home.“

“During my time, perhaps not so much. It was just something that existed, neither working nor functioning anymore. People did not feel any form of attachment – well at least not in my generation. I think before us there was not any other generation. My parent’s generation were the ones who bought all the houses there. So, even before my own generation, my parent ‘s generation also did not have much attachment to it. They rarely saw airplanes fly. Because it was already at this time – around the 1960s – when everything had already been shut down. So, there was not much sentimental connection; you just knew that there used to be something, and from one day to another, it was not there anymore. Nobody missed it; it was just the way things were. You must keep in mind that awareness regarding anything historical, especially after the war, was not as prevalent as it is nowadays. You were used to things simply not being there anymore. So, you also never had a strong attachment to things. The same applied to material possessions; you never really had this attachment to them as people have nowadays. That is just how it was, and then a new part of the town was being built there: the neighbourhood of Cinquantenaire. The rue du Luxembourg and the rue du Mondercange were the first streets to be built in Lallange, my father was born in the rue du Luxembourg.“

“I have created this painting as a journey into the past, drawing a contrast with the present. I incorporated architectural elements from the Cité du Cinquantenaire. So, in the street, you can observe the old version of Lallenge. There used to be some ponds in Lallange on which people used to ice skate during the winter. After the voting from the residents, I have also decided to add a photo album as a way of thanking the people who have shared their photos and personal stories with me. On the ice-skating rink, you can see a young boy with a paper plane in his hand, which not only represents the former aerodrome in Lallenge, but also all the people who have lived their childhood in Lallenge. The image of children playing in the streets is one that appears multiple times. So those are the ideas I have gathered and the final image that I have created with them.“

“I started helping with the Nuit de la Culture five years ago. This year, a special edition was organized with five different territories, and Lallange being one of them. The concept of the Lallange territory began a year and a half ago; the same goes for planning what we should do and where we should do it. A conference was being held to talk specifically about Lallange, because Lallange is not Esch. Lallange is Lallange. We put a lot of focus on the evolution of Lallange and on everything that has changed. Upon the artist’s arrival, she listened to us. She looked at photos, participated in a walk through the neigbhourhood, and we had our meeting in the café Pirate. Like that, she became a ‘Lallangeoise‘. Without being a Lallanger, one could not imagine its history. I am proud to see how an artist has created this fresco on a wall here in Lallange. It tells a story. If you are not concerned, an image can convey a lot. Yet for those who are concerned, like me and all the other people who contributed to the project, one perceives things differently.“

“The KUFA participated in the project because we already had a lot of experience regarding the organization of mural paintings and frescoes in Esch. That is why we also helped when it came to the mural project with Mariana Duarte Santos. So, all of this started at our site. In 2014, we initiated the ‘Kufa‘s Urban Art Projet’, with the aim of transforming our courtyard into a more inviting space. Initially, everything was full of cars, with no greenery in sight, and the Ratelach was also out of order for some time. That is how the idea emerged to turn the KUFA into ‘a space of life’ that people would want to visit and spend time in, as well as to add some decoration to our walls. So, our original perspective was to invite national and international artists. This quickly changed, however, because in the following years we wanted to expand our reach, shifting our goal to make art more noticeable, even to fascinate young teenagers and kids through this project. We also started making more interactive stuff. That is how it developed over the years, and now in the year 2022, we collaborated with the Nuit de la Culture and the C2DH from the university to bring life to the fresco in Lallange which tells the history of Lallange.“

(Mr. Vanoli): “You entered the building, and then you found yourself in a café, a classic café. I think that in the upper right corner there was always a television. There were also always the same people, so regular customers. From there, you could also see the dance room. The dance room always had an extra counter in the back. On the left were also stairs leading to a bowling alley. The bowling alley was also a classic one; I believe that it was not electric, so not automatic. Later, it was also not used anymore. I think that was because no one was willing to manually set up the cones. (laughter) “

(Ms. Vanoli): “Actually, thinking about it, it was two different worlds. You entered at the front, where you had the pub. I still remember that it was kind of comfortable. As a kid, I always felt at ease in the pub. They also always used to have napkins on their tables. It was true that there were always the same people, and that was the first part. I still remember that there was this big sliding door that separated the pub from the dance floor. It was such a big sliding door that kind of resembled an accordion. Throughout the week, this big door was closed, and in that way, the dance floor disappeared into an afterthought. Saturday evening is when the magic happened, and ‘whoosh’ a new world opened. The pub faded into the background, and now the dance floor took the focus. The sliding door covered the whole length and height of the room. That’s why I always found it so impressive; it was like being in a theater. Now it’s closed, and ‘whoosh’ now the door is open, and it’s dancing time and then Monday morning ‘whoosh’ the door closed, and it’s back to being a normal pub again. (laughter) “

“My parents took later over the café, so I lived mostly through this dancing era. I still remember how, on Saturday evening, everything got prepared. My parents were always so busy that they never really had time. The waiters also set up all the tables. During this time, you must imagine when the girls came dancing, the parents came with them, and sometimes their brothers, so it was always a whole family. Each family had their own designated spot, so they had their own regular table. (laughter) One table was reserved for one family, and the other was another family’s table. So, the waiters put up the tables and made everything ready, and the musicians arrived. While the band was rehearsing, I still remember that the pub was empty, no one else was present. So, nobody was inside, and then – that is how I perceived it as a kid – from one second to the next, the whole pub was full. Then the music started, and the people started dancing. Well, that was also the cue for my grandma to arrive, and pick me up, and put me in my bed. (laughter) The music was very loud, though. It was so loud that on Saturday and Sunday evenings, I could still hear the music in my room.”

“I also know this because of my parents, because they already had the pub, and that was one of the first performances by Fausti. During that time, he was still called Faustino Cima. So that was one of his first performances, back in the 1960s, where he played dance music for an evening. Mainly, though, as far as I can remember, there used to always be the same men and the same band who played there. The instruments also stood there – they never put them away – so they were always present. And I loved playing the drums, so I remember always trying to use the drums, and afterwards they always needed readjustments because I used them. Afterwards, they always grounded me. Nevertheless, I loved playing them. There was this one member whose name I don’t remember, but I still remember his face vividly. A small anecdote I can tell is that every Saturday and Sunday, he told me: “You do not touch the drums, so we won’t have to make adjustments again afterwards.“ (laughter)“

“It was a lovely time we had. Uh… We always used to say that whenever we went from Kazebierg, we were going to Esch. As if Kazebierg hadn’t been Esch. Because we had to, we had to go under that, uh (pause) ore bridge, uh. We had to (looks through photographs) to, uh, get to the thing. To, to get to Esch, we had to, uh, go under the ore bridge. (looks through photographs and hands them to the researchers) There you see it, there you see the ore bridge. And here was the Kazebierg. We had to go under the ore bridge, to get to Esch. And then we always thought of it as if it were a town, as if it were a town to go to. That bridge is no longer there. There’s nothing left.”

“We, we didn’t ask, we just walked across the tracks. And then there was another fence from ARBED. There, we couldn’t get across. It was forbidden. I would hand the food over the ARBED fence… when my father came. He came up from the ore mill right to the door of the plant, and then he’d see me standing at the fence and I’d give him his food.

Tobias: Because he, because he also had long workdays then.

Yes, because he had the, what do you call it… the long shift. Once every three weeks you had to work two shifts in a row, otherwise the early shift, midday shift, night shift wouldn’t work. Once he had to work 16 hours. A midday shift and a night shift.

Tobias So he didn’t really have a proper lunch break, and that’s why you brought him his food.

Yes, yes, yes. I brought him the food, at 9 in the evening. I waited until he had time, then he came up from the ore mill, where he worked as an ore machinist. That was a few meters further down underground. And then I handed him his food.”

“At Terre Rouge nothing was done. We thought someone else would take care of it. We relied on the Red, on the retired workers from Terre Rouge, because they had the time to stand up for it. We were counting on them. We were also counting on the University of Luxembourg, hoping they would help as well. The University of Luxembourg was also shocked when suddenly everything was torn down. And then there were demonstrations in front of Terre Rouge, but it was too late. You could, it was too late, no one could… We forgot it, abandoned it, (unintelligible). Everyone relied on someone else. Yes, they will do something, he was, he worked there, he will surely go and protest. Yeah, uh, and when we went to protest, the silos were already lying on the ground. They didn’t want them, especially the one who is building everything at Terre Rouge, you know, what’s his name… Our municipality didn’t help us either. They just watched while Terre Rouge, the old steel plant, was torn down. (pause) When we woke up, it was too late.”

“Yeah, but, well, for us it was always a bit strange that someone would be interested in the house. Why is anyone suddenly so incredibly interested in the house, why is Denis [Scuto] going there and putting it into his book on architecture because it’s not a pretty house or anything, it’s just big… all of that. For us it felt a bit strange. In retrospect, of course, it makes a bit more sense but a first instinct is asking: why? It’s all, it’s a history that’s over. It’s completely different now. Yeah, you have, yeah. You don’t notice that you’re in the process of making history. Yeah, yeah that’s true.”

“So there is, there is a kind of *laughs* family anecdote. I don’t even know if it’s true, but it probably is — it’s the one that is always told — and the one I think of when I walk past there. So, if you look at the house from the front, you see the entrance in the middle, and on the right and left two cellar staircases that go down — in the past you went into the cellar from the outside. And, um, on the 4th of May 1960, which is the day I was born — I was my grandfather’s first grandchild — he and a friend went down there to that pub, the Kaureler, down at the barrier, and they celebrated that, probably a bit too much, uhm. Well, then they came back up *laughs* to the house, and supposedly my grandfather’s friend fell down those steps. So, he fell down those stairs, broke his ribs, and my grandfather just left him lying there. He screamed, and my grandfather went upstairs. He must have been so *laughs* drunk that he couldn’t do anything about it. So, that, uh, that friend of my grandfather was, in a certain sense, my first ‘victim.’ That’s… yeah, that’s where he, well, uhm. That’s something I, yeah, think of when I walk past there, even though I don’t even know if it’s all true. I suppose it’s not wrong, but anyway… It’s a kind of memory of a world that probably never really existed for me — and that is gone for everyone else as well.”

“Oh! I need, I need to think about that a bit longer, uhm, that’s hard for me to say. I can try to see what it means for my children; they’re now at the end of their twenties, beginning of their thirties. It’s not completely uninteresting for them. I can’t really say. I think they do have some interest in it, at least. Uh, what can they learn from it, I don’t know, but at least if they’re somewhat interested in how things like this happen, like what immigration, for example, meant—and you have examples in your own family—that I do find interesting. So, I mean now they live abroad, and that’s of course something very different. Still, one of them lives in Switzerland, and naturally if you live in Switzerland but you’re not Swiss, that’s something quite special. And that’s obviously much less difficult than it was here, but it’s still a little… you don’t really belong there, and for the first generation that was certainly a bit the case. For my father it was easier because he grew up here, so he had the feeling that he belonged. But it takes time; it takes generations until people really feel they belong, yeah. That’s maybe something one should… Yes, because immigration remains a topic everywhere, and then you can simply see what it means in practice. If you have an example right on your doorstep, then you can look at it.”

“But the pitch — the one that was renovated in the 70s — really had a certain charm, especially because it was in that neighborhood surrounded by the ARBED workers’ housing and it was set in kind of a basin. And that really created an atmosphere because we had the pitch and the stadium, the old stadium there was a running track in between — incredibly big. And there, you didn’t really get much of an ambiance. At our ground, there was always great ambiance, because those who stood right up against the fence, they would bang on the advertising boards, and that made a lot of noise, and the people were very close to… to the players, right. And the pitch, that one was even popular with the opponents. Everyone said, “We love coming to play at the border because the atmosphere is always great.”

“But for us, as the youth teams, the goal was always, and the coaches also always made that appealing to us, to motivate us by saying, “Look, here you see the pitch where the first team plays. That’s almost a sacred ground, and you have to give everything to be able to play there one day.” And for us, that pitch was always a kind of symbol because Jeunesse, at that time, was the number one club in the country. And everyone wanted to play on that pitch. And that already had an importance for us, to be able to one day say, “There you go, I’m playing in the first team now. And I’m allowed to train and play on that pitch.” I think that was also a philosophy of the club, a well-thought-out one, that they always made that pitch appealing to the boys, to the young players, so that they would truly give it their all.”

“But you also have to know that the Jeunesse supporters were always very critical. But they always stood behind the team, and you could feel that. When you played badly, they made that clear from the stands or the terraces and… But never in a mean way, right… Always like, “Come on, get going! What are you playing today?” Never with insults, like you sadly hear nowadays on the pitch, with racist remarks or adding personal stuff, which I absolutely can’t stand because that doesn’t belong there. But if someone said to me, “Today you were really useless,” or “You didn’t run much,”. A sportsman has to be able to live with that kind of criticism. But for the next match, they would still fully support you again and encourage you to give it your all. There really was a bond with the audience, one that I think has been lost today. It’s no longer there today which also has to do with the fact that today’s players on the pitch don’t actually have much connection to Jeunesse anymore.”