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On the road again:
Greetings from westbound US-20 where we are driving parallel to the Ohio Turnpike to the south and to Michigan’s pot-holey I-94 to the north
Click here to see some of the photos that Cyndy has taken on our journey.
Today's Story
I’m compelled to write about this because of the somber story presented by the people at this mine and its related museum about the early history of Appalachian coal mining.
The museum compound consists of a number of historical buildings that have been moved from various coal mining towns to this campus in Beckley: a coal company house, superintendent’s house, three-room house for a miner’s family, miner’s shanty for a single miner, coal camp school, and coal camp church.
In addition, there is a re-created frontier settlement of the mid-to late-1800s, called the Mountain Homestead, a part of the facility’s Youth Museum.
The disparity in size between the single miner’s home (80 square feet), miner’s family home, and the spacious superintendent’s home (three stories and more than 3,600 square feet) strikingly shows the disparity between the workers and those who were in charge.
On a table in the family home lay some papers about the financial reality that these miners faced.
One sheet showed the wages for various tasks inside the mine, all of them about $6.00 or so for a ten-hour day.
Another sheet showed that, in one particular month, a particular miner earned a little more than $74, but the miner’s expenses and items purchased at the company store came to more than $72; the miner’s net wages for the month was $1.68—equivalent to about three hours of work.
Leroy, the docent who took Cyndy and me into the vintage mine, is a retired coal miner, a man who looked to be in his late 60s or maybe early 70s. He said that when he worked in the mines, he was an electrician who also cooked meals for other miners.
The car in which we rode was pulled by an electric “mule” along rails like those used by railroad trains but much more uneven.
Our entrance into the mine was on a horizontal plane into the side of the mountain. The entire rail system there extends 1,500 feet up and around various mined-out areas.
Leroy warned us to stay seated and keep our hands in the car because the shaft was short and narrow.
The climate inside was cool—a constant 58 degrees—and damp, with water periodically dripping from above and pooled in low-lying areas.
Immediately, we noticed the smell of the mine, which was dank and quite different than outside air or even the air inside a cave.
Indeed, miners faced the ominous presence of deadly gases. These included methane, which is lighter than air and rises to the top of the mine shaft. Another is known as blackdamp, a mixture of heavier, unbreathable gases found in enclosed, poorly ventilated environments that would collect around the miner’s feet.
It was these gases that prompted miners to carry a caged canary into the mine with them. If the gases killed the canary, the miner knew that he had to leave lest he also asphyxiate.
At one point Leroy switched off the mine’s electrical lights tossing us into total darkness … until he ignited a primitive carbide lamp that, when mixed with water, created an acetylene flame.
He also showed us another, even more primitive lamp, that burned oil and which the miner attached the front of his hat.
The flame from this tiny teapot-shaped lamp would last an hour, while the acetylene lamp would last about four hours. When the light went out, the miner would be cast into darkness until he refueled and reignited his lamp.
Leroy explained that each miner worked alone in an alcove assigned to him. His task was to bring out as much coal as he could, using pickaxe, shovel, manually operated drills, and carefully placed explosives. His rate of pay was about 20 cents per ton.
But to get at the coal, the miner had to also remove rock for which he was not paid because it had no resale value. If he mixed rock with the coal, his pay was docked.
In some parts of the mine, a short man could stand upright. But most of the miner’s work, including swinging the pickaxe, was done on hands and knees, often in water that seeped in from the ground surface above.
If the water became too deep, he would have to remove it, using a hand pump. Leroy said that a miner might spend many hours or an entire day pumping water rather than mining coal; because he was paid only for bringing coal out of the mine, the miner received no pay for the time that he pumped water.
The coal was hauled out of the mine in cars that were about the dimensions of a twin bed
mattress and, when loaded, carried one ton. In the olden times, these were pulled by living mules; later, they were pulled by electric engines also called “mules,” like the one that Leroy drove on our tour.
The miner would place a piece of wood in the car that had a “coin” attached to it with a number assigned to that particular miner. This enabled the workers on the outside of the mine to properly credit the miner inside the mine.
To prevent another miner from removing this piece of wood and, thus, stealing the coal, the miner would place the piece of wood at the bottom of the car where it would be found only after the car had been unloaded and the coal properly credited to his account.
In addition to these physical hardships, each miner was responsible for buying all of his tools and supplies from the company store: pickaxe, shovel, drills and bits, lamps and lamp fuel, lunch pail, everything, even the canary in the cage.
If he didn’t have enough money at the beginning of the month, the company would assign scrip to him that he would have to pay back at the end of the month, based on his coal output. Scrip assigned by one mining company’s store could be used only in that store, not at any other mining camp.
The mining company did provide an education for the miners’ children. The museum in Beckley includes a two-room school house in which the children were divided into two groups: grades one through four and grades five through eight, with the eighth grade being the highest available.
Displays in the school listed the strict rules for the male and female teachers, such as: no teacher was allowed to be out after 8:00 pm unless on school business; men teachers were allowed one night a week for courting; single women teachers who married would lose their jobs.
Comprehensive photo albums showed men and women of these mining camps to be lean, strong people with resolute faces. A docent in the superintendent’s home stated, “Going into the mine was serious business. Everyone’s life depending on the safe actions of others.”
To that point, Leroy mentioned that not every miner brought out coal. Others who worked on the inside included the fire boss. It was this man’s responsibility to go through the mine and ignite the lighter-than-air methane gas that would build up in the upper parts of the mine shaft.
If controlled, this ignition would produce a short burst of flame then be gone. But if left unchecked, the ignition of the methane could cause an explosion that would race for miles through a mine, killing all.
Leroy also mentioned inventions that, over the years, improved both the working conditions for the minors and their productivity. One of these was an electric drill that replaced the earlier manual drill.
But many years would pass before anyone realized that this tool also created more coal dust and the onset of black lung disease. Fortunately, Leroy said, water is now added to the drilling process to dampen the dust and reduce that condition.
When I asked Leroy, “If you were of a younger age to work in the mines today, would you?” he immediately said, “Yes.” He explained that mining operations are much safer and more regulated today, that the pay is better, and that it’s a viable occupation. He added that his son works in a related geological field.
So that’s the good news … for those who want to work underground where there are no windows to the world and you don’t know if it’s day or night, rainy or sunny outside.
But, overall, this entire orientation to “how it used to be” reminded me of the song “Sixteen Tons,” written and sung by Merle Travis in 1946 who was inspired by a letter from his brother, a miner in Virginia, who penned, “I can’t afford to die. I owe my soul to the general store.”
The song was also recorded by and became a gold record for Tennessee Ernie Ford in 1955; the many others who recorded it later include Johnny Cash, Eric Burden (of The Animals), Joe Cocker, and The Platters.
Interestingly, I sang the song at a talent show when I was in high school in 1966, and I still remember the lyrics today.
I was born one morning when the sun didn’t shine.
I picked up my shovel and walked to the mine.
I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal.
And the straw boss said, “Well, blessa my soul.”
You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter don’tcha call me ‘cause I can’t go.
I owe my soul to the company store.
To see videos inside the Exhibition Coal Mine in Beckley, search on YouTube for "Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine"
Next blog: Whatever the muse inspires me to write about
Thanks for reading my stories.
God blesses everyone ... no exceptions.
Robert (Bob) Weir
