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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Carnegie is a two‑hour production (with a twenty‑minute break in the middle), and it uses that time to walk us through the extraordinary life of Andrew Carnegie, the Dunfermline boy who rose from a one‑room weaver’s cottage to become one of the richest men in America, and ultimately one of its greatest philanthropists.
We begin in Dunfermline, where Carnegie’s father worked the looms and the family scraped by as best they could. When hard times hit, they left Scotland behind and sailed for Pennsylvania. Carnegie was only twelve. You feel the weight of that decision — the upheaval, the hope, the fear — and the production lets that moment breathe.
From there, the pace shifts. Carnegie grows into a young man with a sharp mind and a talent for organisation. By twenty‑three he’s managing the Western Division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, learning how to cut costs, how to lead, how to spot an opportunity. His investments in railroads and oil pay off handsomely; the Columbia Oil Company alone earns him a million dollars in cash dividends. It’s dizzying to hear it laid out so plainly — the speed of his rise, the sheer scale of his ambition.
The script by Ian Hammond Brown is impressively clear, weaving together the industrial story with the personal one. We see Carnegie establish the Edgar Thomson Steel Works in 1872, then expand with partners Henry Clay Frick, George Lauder and Henry Phipps Jr. The Homestead Steel Works is bought, the empire grows, and then comes the part of the story that still stings: the Homestead Strike of 1892. Eight hundred men walking out over wages. One hundred and forty‑three days of conflict. Injuries, deaths, reputations shattered. The production doesn’t shy away from any of it. It shows how the strike tarnished Carnegie’s standing among the workers he expected respect from, and how he blamed Frick for mismanaging the crisis.
And then, beyond the struggle, life moved on. In 1901 Carnegie sells his company to J.P. Morgan for a staggering sum — roughly $492 million, the equivalent of $19 billion today. Carnegie’s personal share was $226 million. It’s almost unimaginable. But what matters, and what the production emphasises, is what he chose to do next: give it away.
This is where the show becomes quietly moving. Carnegie returns to Dunfermline with his mother, now seventy, and she lays the foundation stone for the library he funded. He builds swimming baths. He funds education, science, music, world peace. At the time of his death in 1919, he had pledged nearly $350 million to causes he believed in — the equivalent of $6.9 billion today. More than 2,500 libraries across the USA, New Zealand and Canada owe their existence to him. Even after his death, money continued to flow to charities, pensioners and foundations. His legacy is still felt in Scotland through the Carnegie Trust for the Universities of Scotland and the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust.
All of this is held together by a performance that is, frankly, remarkable. Luis Garrow, playing Carnegie, is impressive. His stage presence is commanding without ever tipping into grandiosity. He sings beautifully, acts with precision and warmth, and carries the weight of Carnegie’s contradictions — ambition, generosity, pride, regret — with a maturity well beyond his years. He is, without question, destined for a very successful career.
This is a production not to be missed. It’s thoughtful, expansive, and deeply human — a standout at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe.
Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp
