90th Anniversary Stories: Paul Lilly

Hi, I’m Keith Lilly, LorMet Emeritus Board Member and USS Steel Retiree after 41 years.

My dad’s name was Paul J. Lilly, and his life is a quiet testament to grit, resilience, and the kind of perseverance that doesn’t ask for applause.

He was born in 1925 in a small town near Louisville, Kentucky. By the time he was barely a teenager, around 12 or 13 years old, he had lost both of his parents. Childhood ended early for him. For several years, he lived with different relatives, learning how to adapt, endure, and keep moving forward.

At just 16 years old, with little more than determination and hope, he made his way north to Lorain, Ohio. He had heard the steel plant was hiring, and that was enough. He stayed at the YMCA on 28th Street, took whatever work he could find, and spent a couple of years working on ore ships on the Great Lakes owned by U.S. Steel. It was hard work, but honest work, and it eventually earned him a place inside the plant.

There’s a photograph from the Lorain Historical Society, taken sometime in the early 1940s, likely around 1943. In that photo, my dad would have been about 18 years old. When I look at it, I don’t just see a young man in a steel town. I see someone who had already faced more loss than most people do in a lifetime, and still stood tall.

In 1949, life took another sharp turn. That year, he married my mother, Jennie Lilly, and was soon after drafted into the Korean War. While serving, he was seriously injured by machine-gun fire to both legs and lost his right leg below the knee.

Many people would have been broken by that moment.
My dad wasn’t.

He came home, went through rehabilitation, and returned, once again, to U.S. Steel. He didn’t just go back to work; he built a life. He started a family. I was born in 1952, and my sister Paulette followed in 1954.

Despite having very little formal education himself, my dad was big on education. He believed deeply that learning was the one thing no one could ever take away from you. He didn’t talk about it much, but he lived it, encouraged it, and expected it. Inspired by his passion, Paulette earned a JD Degree while I attained an MBA. Those accomplishments are part of his legacy, too, proof that his sacrifices created opportunities he never had himself.

Back at the plant, my dad became a Roll Turner, a skilled craftsman working in a shop near Pearl Avenue. Over the course of 42 years, he built a reputation for reliability, pride in his work, and quiet leadership. When he retired in 1985, he owned his home and four rental properties, a powerful statement of what steady work, discipline, and long-term thinking can achieve. He passed away in 1995, leaving behind more than memories. He left a standard.

As for me, I followed a familiar path.

I started at U.S. Steel in 1971, at a time when good jobs were available, Ford Motor, Thew Shovel, and others. But I chose USS. I was hired into the central labor gang, earning $2.35 an hour. I dug ditches, laid concrete, ran jackhammers, whatever needed to be done. It was tough work, but I was proud of it.

Later that year, I transferred to the Roll Shop, working in the very same building as my father. For a time after I got married, he even picked me up for work—a small thing, maybe, but one I’ll always remember.

In July of 1971, I was laid off due to a contract renewal strike. During those few uncertain months, I took a job at Zayre’s Department Store in Elyria. It turned out to be one of those moments where life quietly changes direction, because that’s where I met my future wife.

In August of 1973, I married Kathleen Syrowski.

Over the years, I became involved with the Credit Union, eventually serving on the Audit Committee, continuing a lifelong connection to the values I learned early on: responsibility, stewardship, education, and looking out for others.

When I look back now, I see more than a series of jobs or dates. I see a story of two generations shaped by work, sacrifice, belief in education, and community. My dad taught me, without speeches or slogans, that setbacks don’t define you. What defines you is how you respond, how you keep going, and how you build something lasting for those who come after you.

That’s the legacy of Paul J. Lilly, and one I’m proud to carry forward