Smartphone !? Those guys would be lucky to have a hard-wired landline phone in their houses. I learned the machinist trade in large part from German immigrants. You did not sit when working. You did not stand still. You learned the work ethic if you did not have it already, or you were out the door and gone. You also learned thrift, and you learned to do a job right even if it seemed inconsequential or something that "did not matter". Details were everything, and whether you were deburring parts with a three-corner scraper ( 1960's, pre fancy de-burring tools), or driving screws to hold a cover plate, you made sure the job was done right or the old foreman would be on you, hollering and maybe giving you his elbow in your ribs. This was in the USA, not in Germany, but those guys had brought their skills, discipline and work ethic with them when they arrived in NYC. I was a kid, and they saw something in my to bring along, and they did. Tell a young person of today that the foreman or journeyman will be hollering at them if they do not "get it" on the third try, or that they have to be at their work station when working hours start (not going thru the clock 1 minute ahead of starting time), and that they can't text, take cell phone calls, or bring their fancy coffee onto the shop floor... and tell a young person they might just get a half-serious cuff in the shoulder or an elbow in the ribs and a yelling-at, and see where that gets you.
I was a kid of about 15 when I started working for German immigrant machinists, and I came from a household where the work ethic was summed up by my father: "You get in line, do what you're told, keep your nose clean, pay your dues and don't cut the line (try for special treatment or whine)". The first morning on the job in the shop, I had walked nearly 1 mile to the subway station in Brooklyn, ridden subways from Brooklyn to 42nd Street in Manhattan (Times Square) and changed for a train out to Long Island City, in the borough of Queens, where the machine shop was. Maybe 45 minute-1 hour on the subways, plus the walks to and from the stations at each end. I had left the house way early since we started work at 7 AM, so no breakfast. I remember when the catering truck arrived at 9 AM, and I was so happy to get a container of coffee and a buttered hard roll. The foreman rang bells and blew air whistles to signal starts and stops of work, lunch and breaks. I had brought a lunch, so was Ok in the department. At about 1:30, the foreman rang a gong, and all the machinists filed out of the shop for afternoon break. The foreman stopped me and handed me a "brown glass quart" of beer. He explained that in Germany, this was their custom (he and his cohorts had come to the USA in 1923 fleeing a runaway inflation and hard times in Germany). I was 15, handed a quart of beer, and bracing up against the brick wall of the machine shop with the foreman and the other machinists, felt like the biggest man around. I learned the basics of the machinist trade from those men, learned to work, and learned to speak a workingman's German in the bargain.
The men in the stone cutting youtube may as well have been relatives or neighbors to the men who emigrated to the USA and taught me the machinist trade. Quiet, strong sense of values and "place", methodical, hard working with infinite patience and eyes for detail would be a good way to sum them up. Whenever I pick up a file or three-corner scraper, I think of old Max and the machinists who took a 15 year old kid on for a summer job and taught him the machinist trade and so much more over the next few years when I could work part time and summers with them. The old foreman, when he was hollering at me about taking too long on a job, or similar, would call me
"herr Meister". Now, my buddy's father- a German immigrant woodworker- calls me "Herr Meister" as a term of respect when we raise a beer together. Now, also, I am starting a nephew in the machine shops, and will be working part time (so much for "retirement") alongside him at some points. Seeing the men in the quarry brought back a lot of memories of the oldtime immigrant machinists I worked with. Basic, solid people working at their trades having served some substantial apprenticeships, and having very solid values and principals.