“Everybody should have something to point to.”

Words of a working man. In this case, the man was Mike LeFevre, a steelworker from Cicero. Married, two kids. He said he is a “dying breed.”

He’s also the first chapter in Studs Terkel’s book “Working, People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do” (1974). Terkel shares insights from an interesting variety of occupations.

Terkel guides the conversations but pretty much sits back and lets people spill their stories, emotions and insights into the working world that surrounds us. I have always considered this book a journalism textbook. (People have so many stories to tell and their favorite thing to talk about is ... themselves.)

Lefevre’s story is full of anger and frustration with splashes of profanity and tales of bar fights as a form of release. And then he quotes Hemingway. His dream was to run a combo bookstore and tavern.

“I would like to have a place where college kids came and a steelworker could sit down and talk. Where a workingman could not be ashamed of Walt Whitman and where a college professor could not be ashamed that he painted his house over the weekend.

“If a carpenter built a cabin for poets, I think the least the poets owe the carpenter is just three or four one-liners on the wall. A little plaque: Though we labor with our minds, this place we can relax in was built by someone who can work with his hands. And his work is as noble as ours. I think the poet owes something to the guy who builds the cabin for him.

“It’s hard to take pride in a bridge you’re never gonna cross, in a door you’re never gonna open. You’re mass-producing things and you never see the end result of it,” he said.

“It’s not just the work,” he explained. “Somebody built the pyramids. Somebody’s going to build something. Pyramids, Empire State Building – these things just don’t happen. There’s hard work behind it. I would like to see a building, say, the Empire State, I would like to see on one side of it a foot-wide strip from top to bottom with the name of every bricklayer, the name of every electrician, with all the names.

“So when a guy walked by, he could take his son and say, ‘See, that’s me over there on the 45th floor. I put the steel beam in.’ ... What can I point to? A writer can point to a book. Everybody should have something to point to.”

He found his own way to leave his mark: “Sometimes, out of pure meanness, when I make something, I put a little dent in it. I like to do something to make it really unique. ... Let’s say the whole building is nothing but red bricks. I’d like to have just the black one or the white one or the purple one.”

Like many others with a bondage to the steady job, Lefevre saw hope in his kids ... to have a better life.

“This is gonna sound square, but my kid is my imprint. He’s my freedom,” he said. “... This is why I work. Every time I see a young guy walk by with a shirt and tie and dressed up real sharp, I’m lookin’ at my kid, you know? That’s it.”

Lefevre is talking about something that ripples through many of the interviews in the “Working” book. He’s talking about pride in oneself and what is accomplished. Leaving your mark. And hoping your kids have a better life.

His words. His world reminds me of my dad, although his job let him create things he could point to and say, “I did that.” He passed on that pride to me … and my sister and the whole family. And gave lots of credit to my mom, who kept it all together.

Lefevre did leave his mark. He’s a significant chapter in an important book. And from his words, I will create a little mini-billboard for my bookshelves to join many others.

It will stand as a reminder stating … “Everybody should have something to point to.”

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail the NewsTribune, 426 Second St., La Salle IL 61301.