Clairton, a steel town south of Pittsburgh that has spent decades living with air pollution and economic upheaval, is trying to interpret a new industrial chapter after a fatal Aug. 11 explosion at the U.S. Steel Clairton Coke Works. Six months later, residents are confronting the same core question: whether new ownership and a new mayor will deliver a durable shift after years of what some describe as broken promises.
The sale of U.S. Steel to Nippon Steel has been framed by the buyer as a global investment and by the company as an effort that would include upgrades totaling billions of dollars. But for people whose lives are shaped by the plant—whether through work, health, or the city’s tax base—the stakes were sharpened by the Aug. 11 blast that killed two people and prompted renewed calls for oversight of the coke works.
At the center of that tension is a local contest that culminated in November: Clairtonians rejected 16-year incumbent Rich Lattanzi, choosing former U.S. Steel foreman Jim Cerqua. In the campaign, Lattanzi’s slogan was “If it ain’t broke, don’t try and fix it,” while Cerqua’s message to voters was “It is broke! We are going to fix it!” After taking office, Cerqua told residents he had heard that “People voted for change,” and he laid out an agenda that starts with balancing the budget and using scarce resources to tear down crumbling buildings and push redevelopment “starting anywhere, just pick a spot.”
Even as Cerqua spoke to residents about jobs and new community facilities, many in Clairton said the mill’s influence reaches beyond employment into daily conditions and health. Community health worker Dorcas Rumble, a lifelong resident who organizes a free health clinic and food and clothing drives, said she remembers when the town had more storefronts and services, and she traced much of that decline to layoffs tied to the coke works and the broader changes that followed. She said she believes change may come with Nippon, saying, “I have faith. I know Nippon Steel is going to pull us through here, get us back up and moving,” but she also described how hard it is to trust outcomes that last longer than a campaign season.
Rumble’s sister, Miriam Maletta, said she is also waiting for tangible help from the company beyond promises. Maletta opened her salon in 1984 when business was tied to a thriving mill and said she now sees her business dwindling as she struggles. She told residents she “I need help bad,” and she described health battles that she links to living in Clairton, saying after being diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma and later going into remission, she believes the mill was part of what happened. She also urged the company to build the local economy back up, saying U.S. Steel is a “multibillion dollar industry” and asking, “Why not help the people of this community?”
At a separate point in the reporting, steelworker Brian Pavlack described a period of cautious optimism around the ownership change, including conversations with U.S. Steel representatives ahead of Nippon’s acquisition. Pavlack said the company told residents that if Nippon did not take over, “we’re gonna leave the Mon Valley and go down south.” He described what he saw as the promise of the Mon Valley investments announced after the acquisition, while also conceding that future policy could shift again with a new administration. “For now, though, he says, ‘The future is looking pretty bright in the Mon Valley.’”
Not everyone in Clairton shares that certainty. Carla Beard-Owens, who described chronic illness and what she says has been a generational toll of pollution exposure, said she has been unable to count on improved air quality. She told Allegheny County Council that she didn’t want the mill to close because it still provides jobs, but she argued for accountability. “I had surgery to cut my throat open to remove a mass that was huge that was connected to my vocal chords. I couldn’t speak,” Beard-Owens said, describing the impact on her ability to breathe and speak.
Beard-Owens and other residents connected their experiences to emissions from coke production and to health conditions including asthma and cancers, while also describing how families try to reduce exposure. The reporting also included testimony from researcher Dr. Deborah Gentile, who discussed asthma in Clairton and linked serious health outcomes to air pollution, while the story reported that the Clairton Coke Works contributes about 98.7% of the estimated excess cancer risk, according to ProPublica’s analysis. Later that night in November, County Council voted to approve an increase in fees related to permitting for the coke works and other industrial polluters, a change Beard-Owens described as a victory even if she framed it as only a small step.
Other residents described how a moment of disruption can break patterns, even if the underlying problems remain. Jackie Wade, who said she moved to Clairton as a teenager, compared the town’s long decline to “death row” and described the Aug. 11 explosion as an inflection point that “got people thinking, we could’ve been gone right there.” Wade said football has been a source of hope for families, but she also said the community still wants answers about what would change and who will pay for needs beyond the mill.
As the town looks toward Nippon’s upgrades and Cerqua’s agenda, some residents said they see the future through competing lenses: job stability and civic revival on one side, and the expectation of stronger regulation and health protections on the other. Cerqua said he expects the company to play a major role because running Clairton without the plant—and the roughly one-third of city taxes it pays—is difficult. For residents like Rumble, Maletta, Beard-Owens and others, the mill is both the shared resource and the shared burden, making the question of sustained change one that will be tested not by announcements, but by what happens to the air, the health, and the local economy over time.