A Coal
Mining Family
Like most people from the Tri-State
area of the Upper Ohio River Valley, I grew up in a coal mining family. My father
and both of my grandfathers were miners, as were uncles and cousins. Mining coal was
a big industry in my hometown and most men earned their living with some connection to
coal. The coal trains ran on both sides of the Ohio River pulling hoppers of coal in
endless lines and coal barges constantly moved down the river pushed by tow boats.
When I was a child the boats and trains were powered by coal but later converted to diesel
fuel. The change removed a lot of pollution but I missed the sound of the engines,
their black plumes of smoke and the excitement of watching the old paddlewheels and steam
powered trains as they shuttled their cargoes of black gold.
I was accustomed to seeing my dad go
off to work carrying his miner's lunch pail and seeing him return with his eyelashes
darkened with "miner's mascara." This was an identifying mark that singled
out a miner at a glance. The finest particles of coal dust became embedded between
the miners' eyelashes and looked very much like the effects of using a heavy eyeliner
pencil. Mining was dirty work so most of the men showered in the bath houses
provided by the "company" before coming home. Watching the men come out of
the mines was an experience in itself. Faces completely blackened with coal dust and
their clothing buried beneath a layer of grime, made identification nearly
impossible. It took something special to pick your father from the group: his walk,
his laugh or the decals he used to decorate his lunch bucket. The transformation was
amazing when they walked out of the bathhouse all freshly showered and clean, but that
miner's mascara was always there to remind you these men were coal miners.
Every miner carried a special lunch
pail with him to the mines. This pail was made in three sections;
a tight-fitting lid, the middle section for his lunch and the bottom carried his daily
ration of water. This contraption resembled a double boiler pan and a tight-fitting lid
was essential because the mines were filled with underground rats who had learned their
lessons on survival well. They could and did work the looser lids from the pails and the
returning miner found his lunch gone. See a special
page about the things miners used everyday. (This page has some wonderful photos sent in by Rita McCabe.)
He also wore a miner's hat that was
fitted with a head lamp to light his way and keep his hands free to work. Older lamps were
designed to burn a gas produced by mixing carbide and water. A miner always made sure he
had his supply of good carbide and flints before starting his shift underground. Should
his lamp fail and no one else was close by, he found himself in the most total darkness
known. A mile underground with only black coal surrounding him, there was little chance of
feeling his way out of his section to an area where other miners were working. He
could only hope that someone would come searching for him. Modern miners have a
battery operated lamp that is recharged each day between his shifts.
During my grandfathers' years
underground, hand-loading was the primary method of mining. A man had to dig the coal from
the vein, break it up, hand load it into carts, prop up the stone roof above him with
wooden posts, load the rock he'd removed along with the coal into another cart and get it to
a pickup point. (Use
this link to view pictures of the old days of mining.) He was paid by the ton for the coal he'd mined. At 50
cents a ton for the coal and nothing for the stone, he was seldom able to more than meet
the basic needs of his family. Many miners began this life as young boys who went
into the mines with their fathers to help load stone and cut timbers to support the roof
of stone they worked beneath and thus coal mining families were born. Coal mining
got in their blood and it wasn't unusual for grandfathers, fathers and sons to work for
the same mining company.
Most miners did not live to be old
men. If they survived the daily risks of being trapped in a fall-in or killed in a
mine explosion cause by pockets of methane gas, they faced a shortened life span from the
results of a lung disease called "Black Lung" from the years of breathing coal
dust. When continuous mining machines were introduced into the coal mines the hazards of black
lung increased dramatically. These machines pulverized the coal and filled the air with
coal dust so thick that headlights on the machines were invisible only a few feet
away. After years of inhaling these particles, a miner's lungs literally turned to
stone as they filled with coal. In the late 1960s a law was passed requiring mining
companies to compensate their workers who had developed miner's lung. Many retired
miners, including my father, receive a monthly check in payment for the loss of their
breathing capacity due to black lung.
The Coming of the Union
The life of a miner was vastly
improved with the advent of the United Mine Workers Union. For the first time they had
some power against the coal companies that had grown fat on the blood and  sweat of the men who labored for them. The coal mining
companies fought ruthlessly against the miners to prevent the formation of the union but
after many bloody battles the union became a reality. There are many unsung heroes
that gave their lives to see this union come to pass and to them we owe a huge debt of
gratitude.
Go here to read more about the UMWA Links have been updated to
direct you to the new UMWA homepage.
The conditions inside the mines were
made safer, miners were paid an hourly rate for their work and given benefits that were
paid for from royalties on every ton of coal they produced. My father and husband are both
members of this union today, although neither of them currently work in the mines. My
father is retired and my husband went into another line of work after the mine closed
where he'd spend 20 years.
After being a coal miner's daughter I
never dreamed I'd end up being a coal miner's wife as well. Somehow you don't want to
consider the fact your husband might face those same risks you'd seen your own father face
daily. But love has a mind of its own and when my future husband announced, "Guess
what, honey. I got a job in the mines today", I reconciled myself to the fact
I'd soon be a miner's wife. After all, his whole family were coal miner's too. Just
as mine, his father and grandfathers earned their living digging black gold. In 1970
his father died in the mine at age 57 from a heart attack. He was carried by his
union brothers up the slope he'd traveled daily for the last time. My husband walked
this same slope every day he went to work until that mine closed.
The life in a miner's family was always one filled
with pride but there was always that fear lurking in the back of your mind when the ones
you loved were half a mile underground. Rumors of an accident in one of the mines spread
quickly though the small mining communities and with a father in one mine and a husband in
another, there was little peace until you knew they were safe. I often looked at my own
sons and wondered if I'd someday sit and wait to hear if they had made it safely out of
the mine. Thankfully before my two oldest sons were old enough to work the mining industry
in our area had all but died and they were never tempted to take that first step
underground.
So, to you, Dad, and all the men like you, I give
my thanks for the courage and stamina you possessed that made you a coal miner. My life is
what it is because of your sacrifices. (And you too, hubby!)
P.S. See the special Memorial Page dedicated to the 66
men who were lost in the Powhatan Mine Fire of 1944.
Don't miss the Coal
Miners' Collection - photos and explanations of the things a miner used every day
underground.
Written by a coal miner's
daughter
B. Lasko
Copyright©1997
Some links to other sites
about mining
Links have been updated to the new
UMWA site.
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