Farmington Mine Disater Memorial

My column this week is to try and give you an idea of the human price of coal. Not so much the actual cost in dollars and cents per ton, but in the heart break of personal loss. We hear on the news about an industry or mining accident and unless you know the individual, it is soon forgotten. But for those who experienced it first hand, it is a moment not forgotten even with the passage of time.

On a bright sunny morning, Ed Parsons and I traveled to Farmington, West Virginia. We had made arrangements to talk with a few of the town residents about an event that took place many years ago. Along the way, there was one stop we made and paid our respect. A short ways up a country road, we could see off to the right a neatly kept memorial site. The memorial is a black polished stone standing in this quiet place. Inscribed on the face are three rows of names. They are the seventy-eight men that died that faithful day. Next to nineteen names is a star, it indicates that man is still where he fell 54 years ago, 300 feet below ground. As we stood there in the quiet, the sunás rays pierced through the leaves of the forest. It touched the top of the stone in the morning mist. I took it as a sign, the men below are still on shift.

Among the names were several with the same last name. I wondered, were they father and son, brothers or maybe cousins. I realize in a small community many were family and friends. Fate and the need to support their families brought these men together that morning.

At 5:30 on the morning of November 20th, 1968 the early morning quiet was broken by the sounds of an explosion. Smoke and fire shot out of the #9 mine shaft. The morningás air, 29 degrees was crisp and the sound traveled through the surrounding valleys and hollows. The ground rumbles as underground explosions continued. Those who heard the sound knew what had just happened. By mid-morning, a light rain had begun to fall on the area. Hopes spread when word came 18 miners had walked out the belt shaft and three more came out in the bucket lift. But who were they? No word as to the fate of miners who did not walk out. As the day wore on, it became evident, hope for the missing miners was fading. So began the ordeal of the families and communities around the #9 mine.

Fifty-four years later in the Farmington City council chambers, we sat down with five long time members of the community. Fate had also made them members in a group who lost family members and friends that day in 1968. Each of them remembered that day, time stopped. Their stories were different and yet similar in the tragedy of the day.

I began talking with Mrs. Alice Prister. I will point out Alice is 101 years old at the time of our interview. If she had not told me of her age, I would have never believed her to have a century of stories to tell. When I asked what she remembered. She began by telling me she moved from Philadelphia as a child. They moved when her father got work in a mine. She then went on to tell me about the day the mine exploded, she was walking on the slag pile near the mine. Her son, Fred Prister pointed out that she was telling me about the 1954 explosion in the mine that trapped 15 miners. Those menás bodies were never recovered. The mine was sealed to extinguish the fire and prevent any further explosions. If her son had not pointed out she was talking about 1954 and not the 1968 explosion, I may not have known the difference by her explanation. The story of the explosions were so similar, it was hard for me to know at first what disaster she was speaking of. Alice had been present for two major mining disasters in her 101 year of life.

She then went on to tell me about the 1968 explosion. She was working in the Rachel Mine Company Store when she heard and felt a large explosion and the ground moved. She immediately left and went over to the #9 mine store. Just like in 1954, the mine company store quickly became the center of the mining familyás world. Families gathered together for strength, while waiting for word of their loved ones. Alice kept vigil in the store for the families for three days and nights. She recounted the day United Mine Workers Union President, John L. Lewis came into the store. He along with some of the local miners rolled out maps of the mine. They hoped to find where miners may have gone seeking safety.

Within a year of the disaster, both the Rachel and #9 company stores were closed. Over time the four mines in the area were also closed, Rachel, Ida Mae, Barrackville and Grant Town. The area lost fathers, sons, and husbands, along with the lively hood for hundreds of families.

Another guest was Judy (Henderson) Kuhn. She was married to Paul Henderson in 1968. Today she is a retired nurse and has remarried. Paul is one of the 19 men still inside the #9 mine. I asked her if Paul enjoyed working underground. At first she was unsure how to answer my question. Then she explained why. I came to understand her husband had gone to work in the mine because the area did not offer much in the way of employment, if you didn’t want to work in the mine. He went to work much like many others, because it was work and he needed the pay to support himself and his new wife.

I asked Judy if she heard the explosions that day. She explained at the time she lived in Barrackville and that morning she was awoken at 5:00. She donát know why, she just was. A short time later her husband’s uncle called and told her, he and his wife were coming to get her and that there had been a problem in the mine. She had no idea what had happened until his uncle arrived.

Alice remained at the #9 mine store to support family members waiting for information about the missing. Fred explained that day he had not gone to school. His father awaken him and told him what had happened and directed him, “go to the company store and help your mother.” On the way to the store Fred saw a girl he knew from school. She and others stood alongside the road in the cold temperatures and rain with dozens of others. He knew she was waiting for news of her father’s fate. All who waited were solemn faced and their tears washed away by the rain.

Fred went on to explain what information that was given out, was done at the mine’s coal tipple outside in the cold. Finally after a time, the families were instructed, “Go to the church.” There, they were told the mine entrance was being sealed as of that moment. All hope ended that moment for survivors.

Finally, the missing miner’s names were published in the Fairmont Times. Family members of the missing were told they could only have a little credit at the company store for a short time. One year and a day later the mine was unsealed. Recovery crews brought out 59 miners. When the bodies were brought out all of them had their watches removed. Families to this day are unsure why, there was no question when the explosion took place.

Nineteen miners were never recovered from the mine. Their family members wanted the company to recover all the missing. The company told the families if they allowed them to resume mining in #9, each of the family members would most likely be found as they brought out the coal. Families did not want to have their loved ones recovered with a mechanical miner. The company decided to reseal the mine and leave the miners where they were. The company however did go to the other side of the mine and cut coal back towards the #9 mine, but they did not cut into the old shaft. Judy explained, that it wasnát about the law suits or money the families wanted. They just wanted their loved ones recovered. That is unlikely to happen.

Richard Kovach, another long time community member explained that his brother George was killed in the explosion. His body was recovered and buried. He left behind a wife and two children. The family received $10,000 in compensation for his loss.

After all the years of the legal system inquiring as to what was the cause, in 2014 it was revealed on the previous shift, the circulation fan was disconnected from a safety switch. If a detector in the mine sensed a buildup of gas, it trips the fan. Miners know if the air stops moving for fifteen minutes, it is a signal to walk out. With the safety switch disconnected, the fan could not shut off, warning the miners of dangerous levels of methane. The families finally had answers as to why, but still no loved ones recovered from the darkness.

When the mine first exploded, news organizations descended on the community causing a frenzy. When I came along 54 years later, the frenzy was over, but I still could see the pain on faces when they shared old memories. I am grateful to the gracious people who took time out of their day to share with me the pain of that day. They also showed me the difficulties miners and their families experience to survive in a rural part of the state where jobs are hard to come by.

Remember 101 year old Alice Prister? As we were concluding our interviews, Alice looked at me and said in a clear voice. “My Dad was killed in the #8 mine explosion. There were five kids in our family. Mom received $30 a month and $5 for each kid. We had to live on that. We planted potatoes, we ate potatoes every day.” She giggled a bit as she said, “for years I could not eat a potato.” The family purchased a cow for milk along with chickens and ducks. They managed to survive on their own after losing her dad. Between the 1954 explosion and the 1968 explosion, 103 families had to endure the losses and go on with life. How much is a miner’s life worth to keep your lights on, for these families, the cost is everything: Through the Lens.