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N: Mr. Anderson, you said that you grew up in Quinnimont. I was
wondering if you could mention a little bit about your experiences, and
I wanted to ask you a little bit about the town there.
LA: Quinnimont was a very famous town, as far as that part's concerned.
I mean, I was born just a few miles, as we say, up the creek, on Laurel
Creek. But I grew up in Quinnimont, went to the grade school there, and
then from there, I rode the train from Quinnimont to Thurmond, from Thur—
mond up to Mt. Hope, and went to Mt. Hope High School. Then later, I
began work on the railroad, because I went to Wake Forest College for
two years, but I didn't have the money to complete, to finish my college
work. I would like to have. Course I still have my book that I would
like for you to see, with my name in it. But that was a long trip. We l d
jump up of a morning; the train left Quinnimont about six o 'clock, down to
Thurmond; then from Thurmond, we changed trains, went up the Little Creek
Branch Road to Mt. Hope. And in the afternoon, we grabbed our uniforms
from football and ran to, well they say catch the train, but I say ride
the train back down to Thurmond, from Thurmond back up to Quinnimont .
PN: That was every day .
LA : That was every day for five days a week. Only on Saturday and Sunday did I see daylight in Quinnimont. Well, that was from 1933 till 1937. I graduated in 1937.
PN: When were you born?
LA: I was born on April 17, 1918 at Export, which is a little town three miles up the creek, where the trains, well, Laurel Creek Branch, as we called it then.
PN: Tonen you were growing up in the 1920s and 1930s, how many houses were there at Quinnimont then?
LA: There was a number of houses at Quinnimont, because it was not a coal camp. Most of the people that lived there, some of the people were coal miners, some of them worked in the logging camps, but most of them are railroaders at Quinnimont. Then eventually, I don't know the year exactly, I think it was about in, in the mid—twenties, they moved the headquarters to Raleigh [a town just outside of Beckley] , and a lot of the people moved. But they still had a big headquarters at Quinnimont. I mean, there was a lot of people working there.
PN: How many houses were there, would you say?
LA : I would say at one time at Quinnimont, there was at least 30.
PN: 30 houses?
LA: The big house on the hill was built by the Galdetts, who were the originators. And then Mr. Galdett, John Galdett, Jr. , was a quite a movie executive in Hollywood . But then the Lawtons took the house over, Mr. George Lawton, and the Lawtons ran most everything up at, well, from Quinnimont on east up the creek. They owned the mines?
LA : They owned the mines; they owned the property and they owned the mines . Well, there was Export, and there was Laurel Creek, and then there was
Big Q, and there was Hemlock, and then on up. Now they did not own Lay land ; Lay land was owned by the same people that owned the Kaymoor mines at Minden. That was not New River Company now, that was Quinnimont Coal Company. New River Company is a complete different outfit from Mt. Hope.
PN: How many people would you think would be living in Quinnimont during the time when you were growing up .
LA : I would say two hundred and f ifty.
PN: Two hundred and fifty?
LA : There was at least that many.
PN: Were the homes usually like homes in other coal camps?
LA : Jenny Linds, Jenny Linds. Just like the homes in the coal towns . Some—times they were taken care of real well, and sometimes they weren't. When
Mr. Wilson vas the superintendent , the man I worked for, he was a good person. When I first started working with them, it may seem sort of odd in 1937, that a boy coming out of high school in Mt. Hope, I worked for a dollar a day. And mean a dollar a day. I worked; I mowed the lawn and kept the flowers neat. But I was lucky, because nobody else had a job. And then after that, I got a job with the construction outfit from Elkins that was moving the houses. Oh, man, I made fifty cents an hour. I was living in high clover .
PN: Let me ask you a little bit about those houses. Are they called Jenny Lind houses?
LA: Well, what we called a Jenny Lind. Next time, whevever I can get with you, when this man comes in, I don't have it right now; but I can show you a picture of the house that we lived in that you wouldn't believe. But I mean, you had coal stoves that you had to use. And there was no such thing as a warm morning; you took everything, well anything you could get to heat your house with. And a lot of blankets, and a lot of quilts; but we were happy. Of a morning, when it wasn't school time, if we wasn't going to school, a bunch of boys, we played baseball on the old river bank, we hauled coal, we looked in the woods and cut logs, you know, for the, that would be used in the fireplaces. And we roasted, many a time we roasted our potatoes —I bet you've never had one in the ashes of coal. And a lot of the people that may hear this will know that they did. You put 'em back under the ashes.
PN: Would you heat the houses both with coal and with wood?
LA : Coal and wood was the only thing. There was no gas, there was no oil, there vas no electric heat in those days.
PN: But you would use wood also sometimes?
LA : Oh yes, because you had to buy your coal and you could get your wood from the river banks or from the hills. It was there and it didn't cost you anything. A little bit different from what it was. Of course, I mean today, I t d like to have the same situation. But Go ahead and point some questions at me so I can, go ahead and recapitulate.
PN: How many rooms were in each of the homes?
LA : Usually about four or five, maybe six. And it's what you did yourself that built the homes, because they didn't do very much to the homes. It was all outbuildings as far as your toilet was concerned. At Quinnimont, they did have running water. They got it from up in the creek, Old Kittle Run, and piped the waters into the houses .
PN: You were talking about the homes. How would you say the different rooms were used? Was one used as a living room, or how
LA: Oh, you always had the living room, or as they called it, the parlor; and the bedrooms, they were good , they were nice as far as that part's con— cerned; and you had a front porch, and such as that. No, there was ample space in the rooms; they were not little, small rooms. Well, I 'd have to give the credit to Mr. Wilson at the coal company there up at Quinnimont.
They provided pretty well for you. If the porch went bad, or something like that, they had a carpenter that stayed there all the time. And he'd repair the porch, and repair the rooms and the roof and such as that. It was not run—down until later on.
PN: When would you say it started getting run—down?
LA: I'd rather you cut it [the tape recorder] off. [This discussion is deleted here, but takes place again, on tape, toward the end of the interview. ]
PN: When you lived in Quinnimont, what types of food did you eat, and where did you generally get them?
LA: Well, most of the food was what they had in the so—called company store. But, in other words, we were railroad people, so we had free transportation. And they would ride the train to Meadow Creek, to Beckley, and to Montgomery and buy their foods. We had good food. People that lived in Quinnimont .
LA : You had free transportation, so while the head of the household was working, the women would go buy their food, which was good. Like my mother and the rest of them, and the kids would go with them. To Meadow Creek, with Mr. Garten, was a good place to deal; and to Hinton; and, of course, Beckley was the most near town. That's the reason Beckley is close to me.
Even while living in Fayette County, Beckley was close to me. So people came to Beckley, and one of the best places in Beckley Is a man who is still living, Ed Armstrong. He had Raleigh Cash Grocery, while it was next door to the railroad station, at Beckley, the old railroad station. So many people dealt With him .
PN: From Quinnimont?
LA : That lived in Quinnimont. And today, I think he's one of the finest men I ever met in my life. But he run the Raleigh Cash Grocery; it was just across from near the depot. So people dealt with them. Was there many people who raised their own food in gardens?
LA : Oh, everybody had a garden; I mean when you could have one. My dad was one of those old people that had, I mean not old, but an old—timer that had the habit that he was going to plant his corn, and get everything in the ground early. St. Patrick's Day was it. He was not Irish; in fact, he was German and Dutch. I 've, me and my twin brother have covered up corn whenever it was snowing. But he was going to plant 'em on St. Patrick's Day; it didn't make any .
PN: Did people raise animals as well?
LA : Oh yea, everybody. We always had at least three hogs, as we called them, pigs or hogs.
PN: Did most people have hogs?
LA: Yea, because it was back in the area where, they'd take them back in the area, you know, where that there was no odor. We fed them the good food that, I don t t whether you 've ever been around the river banks where it vas. There was a weed that was especially good for em. But, of course, they bought food for the hogs too. They bought middlins and much of their other feed, like we did. But whenever the first, when the fall, when the first time it got real cold, that was hog killing time. You hung them up to the tree there after cleaning them real good; usually had some people to help with them. We had some awfully good people that knew how to really butcher a hog, I mean, in their way, which was good.
PN: When you butcher a hog, then several people would probably come?
LA: We had to usually have, well there was two or three different men, one of them was a, I say colored because it's a little tough for me to say Black, 'cause I wasn't used to that. Oh, he was one of the best. He could kill a hog quicker than anybody you ever saw in your life. Well, what he done was that, with a '22 right here [pointing to the middle of his forehead] and would stab him [pointing to his throat] and get that blood. He'd get that jugular vein and drain it. Then we t d throw it into the big barrel of hot water, and then the other guy jumped in and started scraping the hair off of him, until it was clean as a whistle. No two ways about it. I mean, you hung him up, of course, to drain the blood. Most of the people I knew down in there did not save them. But now, I hope you don't tape this entirely in its consensus [sic] . But the, well 1 say colored people, they would kill a hog for you to get the chitluns.
PN: They would?
LA : Oh yes. But they took them to the creek bank, and washed them good . And you could smell chitluns for miles. And then, of course, the head was only used for what thev called ' 'hog cheese." But my mother, we never did can sausage like a lot of people. I mean, we fixed it up, but there was no deep freezers then; there were very few refrigerators. In fact , I worked on an ice truck. They'd bring the ices in by the 300...My dad worked in an ice house at Quinnimont when I was a little kid. But then after that fron in from an ice house / Hinton where they had a big place. Three hundred pounds.
PN: By the railroad?
LA : By the railroad, oh yea, everything was by the railroad. There was very few highways; there wasn't any roads. No two ways about it; makes me sound like an old man, doesn't it? But I think that my experience and every— thing else like that, by going to Mt. Hope school, if you don't mind me saying it, by going to Mt. Hope High School, which I got a good education. And after that, I did everything I could to educate myself, because, I had a scholarship to Wake Forest, then college, now university. And I wasn't good enough to compete with the big guys that was coming in from Pennsylvania, and so I only had a couple of years. But after that, then I came back and I was going to get married, and Franklin Roosevelt sent me that letter of greetings. My brother met me at the door after I came back; her father was judge of Hanover County, Virginia, and while I was working on the railroad, a lovely person. That after I came I had met her was the girl I was to marry to begin with. And I'm still in contact with her. But then, I remember her father died and I came on back home, and my brother met me at the door with that letter of greetings from President Roosevelt. And that was it. See, I have a twin brother that is at Oak Hill. Our numbers wasn't even close, and my brother — he's up at church now he'll be back in a few minutes...
PN: Let me ask you a few more things about the time when you were growing up . What did, did you have a radio in your home during that period?
LA : The first radio I ever heard was now, I think, in 1927; and we went to a friend's home and listened to the Dempsey—Tunney fight. And then after that time, of course, the radio was the only thing because there was no television. I never saw television, not till 1947, no one else did; I was in Chicago, I was working on the railroad.
PN: What did people do for recreation and fun?
LA: Well, I think the biggest thing was the Sunday ball games. The Sunday ball games, we had people come in from Hinton, and people from Rainelle, and other areas, from Kaymoor, Fayetteville, and even a town Romont, which is near Ansted. And they had good ball players. Baseball was our game then. We did play basketball at an outdoor court at Quinnimont, and maybe a little touch football and such as that. But until we got to go into high school, sports like that other than baseball never got into mind. But whenever we's kids was coming up, it was baseball.
PN: Were people on the teams mostly miners, or railroaders?
LA : They were railroaders; they had railroad teams. We would play a team from Hanley, it's below Montgomery, it was a big railroad exchange. Well, Hanley was always one of our teams to be played, from Quinnimont; and Hinton was always big, and Meadow Creek. From there, then we branched on out into places like Ansted, and Rainelle, well, so many places it's almost hard to say, but, Rupert was one of them, and Anjean. In other words, you played a game every Sunday. Well then what we did on the Fourth of July, that was something that always stuck in my mind, we had a double— header in Quinnimont. You played one game in the morning; then we took the men from Hinton home with us for their dinners. And Howard Huffin was one of my best buddies; and he and my brother had gone to school together at Hinton. And after that, you had another game in the afternoon. And that was the Fourth of July. That was it. A baseball doubleheader on the Fourth of July was it. And the boys fished an awful lot. And, of course, every boy hunted. And I guess the girls did their housework. But whenever nightfall came like that, it's nothing like it is now. I mean, you were home; you read a book or you went to bed. In fact, I can, the thing that reminds me more than anything else whenever I was growing up, there was, we had what they called a power company at Quinnimont. My brother—in—law worked at the power plant, and my dad had worked at it. What it was is they, you didn't have no lights in the daytime. They turned the power on at night, so you could have some lights; very little power, you was only allowed so much. And I 'm not exaggerating a bit in the world, because I can talk to people that knows it, and relies it completely [sic] .
PN: What was that power generated by, by water or by coal?
LA : By coal, by coal. And like I said, my brother—in—law was one of them. IOnen they cut the power on, then I mean you could have the lights. And that's when people started to buying electric washers; up until that time, they had gasoline washers.
PN: What year was that, do you remember?
LA : I'd say the late twenties. I can't remember exactly on it, cause I can remember the late twenties, because I 'd be growing up in that time. And, oh yes, I remember the election of 1928, because my dad was a, well, we were reared as Democrats. Not my grandfather, they were reared as Republicans, and so we got two sides of the family. But my dad got word on his job, if he did not vote for Hoover, if he voted for Al Smith, that everything would be run from Rome. The Catholics would run everything from Rome. That was it. The only thing you was reading was the Cincinnati Post; you didn't get no Beckley papers. So my dad voted for Hoover, because they told him he had to.
PN: Was he in the coal mines then?
LA : No, right on the railroad. Then he was only getting about two or three days on the railroad, even a man his age. But my dad started working on the railroad when he was 11 years old, trapping in the mines at Stone Cliff [sic]. Well that's how come, from Prince, then to the old McHenry Hospital area —— and which that's all gone and then to Thayer —— well there's a lot of people that live at Thayer; Dr. Wurst, I think still lives there —— but then the next place was Dunfee. And from Dunfee, the next place over there you went to was, as my dad always, he had a name for it, I forget, I can't remember 'em all. But Claremont, then from Claremont you went to Stone Cliff, from Stone Cliff to Thurmond, and from Thurmond we went on, well, there was two places; one across the river, Rush Run. And from there, then you went on down to Sewell; I don't know whether I can keep them in my mind or not. Then to Fayette, as they call it; South Fayette was on one side of the river. But there was Caper ton, which this man over here where they've got, the man who owns Glade Springs [a wealthy community south of Beckley] , I think they just sold it; from what I can understand, I think Philpot t bought it. The Caper ton mines, and then there was Nut tall burg, and then Fayette; I '11 try to give you the proper respective if T can, perspective rather. And then off down there, a little town, Ames, which was new to all of us; but from there you went on into, to Sewell, and to Hawk's Nest, and where Billy Richardson have you ever heard the song "Billy Richardson's Last Ride" Q. well, at Kanawha Falls is where he got his head cut off. Kanawha Falls, and you went on into Mont— gomery, and I can't keep 'em in the right, even though I know them like a book. Then from there on into Montgomery; Montgomery was sort of the terminal for the people going to shop. They would go from Prince and Quinnimont on the train to shop in Montgomery.
PN: When you lived in Quinnimont, would say that most of the people were white, or were there also some Black families?
LA: Oh yes, they were, no, they was mainly, well there was a few immigrants, because of the coal business, those people coming in. But most Americans, most of the people I'd say were white Americans, but there was also a number of people that, I say colored, whenever they use the word terminology Black. Well, we worked together on the railroad, and we went and shopped at the same stores, we lived in different houses, we went to different schools . But I'd say that right then, that the people there were as good a people as you ever met. And I still have a number of those people that are friends of mine, and descendents there. Like I say, we went to different schools and we went to different churches. But we would go to the, well right where I lived at Quinnimont, for a number of years, 1927 to 1937, right below me was the colored church, as we called it, the colored church. Now the people didn't live there; they came from different areas of Prince and Quinnimont .
PN: To come to the church?
LA : To come to the church, and they were great people. And when they would have a revival, they always would invite us, and we always went. We went too; we'd take our places in the back, because after all, it was their church. And right now, the man that's living at Prince down there is a minister in this area all through here, he's not the old man who was in the paper the other day —— William Carter. There's not a finer man I know than Bill Carter. I think that everybody in the world respects him. And Allen Brown that runs that restaurant right near the service station there.
Well, we was all raised together whenever you was working on the railroad. So we have, we had no animosity whatsoever. You can [have trouble] now, someplace, but not with us. We worked and we done our separate jobs, and went our separate ways. And nobody hated anyone else, everybody 1 i ked, we had a couple of midwives there at, Allen Brown's mother was a midwife. She delivered many a baby in that area. And another girl, woman, was Aunt Vicey Childs, as we called her. And both of them were midwives, and they were good. And they delivered many babies around that area, I '11 tell you.
PN: Both white babies and all kinds?
LA : All kinds, it didn't make any difference. It didn't make any difference.
PN: You said that when most of the immigrants came, that the coal companies brought them to work in the mines?
LA: Well most of those people, I mean, they would come from different areas, and maybe they would work on what we call Piney Creek, and up on Laurel Creek like that. But there wasn't too many, well, when I say immigrants, there was some Polish people that came in, and some Russians, and a number of Italians. And they mingled right in with the people, what we called "the ordinary Americans" mainly reared and born in Virginia, which was the big deal for us. But otherwise, there was, we got along well. At the little church, when I grew up as a little kid, I mean I 'm talking about before my teens, there was a community church at Quinnimont. They would have one service, they had the Christian Church, and they had the Methodist Church, and they had the Baptist Church, and no one felt anything through it. And then the big church that was built up on the hill, that we called the Big Church, was a Baptist Church, and most people went there.
And the other people that moved in here, like Mr. Wilson and his daughter, Mrs. Ferlin, and that man out here, do you know him? They're great people. They went to the Christian Church here in Beckley.
PN: Was there a Catholic Church in Quinnimont ever?
LA : No, the people from there had to go, went to Hinton. There was a few Catholics there, they'd ride the train to Hinton.
PN: On Sunday mornings?
LA: Mr. Giles, he was my brother—in—law's daddy, he was a devout Catholic, and he would take the weekend off; he was the old carpenter, and he went to Father Jenkins in Hinton. I never will forget that name on account of that I heard it so many times. And then the other people, no, most of the people were Protestants. They went their separate ways, but most of them went to the Baptist Church. I was reared as a Baptist, and then after I came out of the service, and where l'd gone to school at Mt. Hope, and knew so many of the people, there was so many new people, as I say, at Quinnimont —— it was mainly the people that come in from the lumber company when Criss had taken over the lumber business and bought the place there. so I went with my friends to the Presbyterian Church in Mt. Hope, Which I still go. This is the first time I've missed in a while.
PN: Did the town change mainly from railroad people to people who worked in the forest cutting down the trees about that time?
LA: It was the people in that end, and then the people that was getting their benefits from, well, getting their commodities, that didn't have an awful lot to live on, like that. Because the railroad people, they moved so many trains out, that the railroad people moved out. They moved here to Beckley, and there was very few railroad people left in that area. And there's few there now.
PN: In the twenties and thirties, were there any bars or taverns in Quinnimont?
LA: No, you know it was not until 1933 whenever they legalized beer. That was in 1933 when Roosevelt came in, when they legalized beer. Oh, there was bootleggers; naturally you 're going to have bootleggers. But it was mainly moonshine. Other than what people that, well, usually from back in the mountain areas. And, of course, a lot of people did go down into Virginia and Kentucky and other areas, and, you know, bring your whiskey in. But it was not what I 'd say, I don't know how the terminology, but rambunctious. But people made their homw brew. And it was moonshine , people bringing it in. Of course, they had to watch like everything. So many people was caught that, I can't elaborate. One lady, she was caught so many times. Judge McClinic was in Charleston. You are going to edit this aren't you? And Judge McClinic told her, he said: "If you come before me one more time. She'd been there about three times; she made her moonshine . She said: "Judge, I've got ten kids to take care of . And she said: "I 'm going to have to have some kind of a living for them." And he give her two years in Alderson. I remember the day she come from Alderson; I remember exactly. Her son is still out here; he lives in Stanaford .
PN: She actually spent two years?
LA : She spent two years, for moonshining, because they had got her, I don't know how many times. And Judge McClinic sent her up there; he was tough. I know the day she came back, because T brought herself in my car up from the depot at Quinnimont onto the hill where the church is right now. They lived on top of the mountain, Highland Mountain. And her son was there, and you know what she rode up the mountain in? A sled, a big old sled about that wide. She said: "I made them pay me for everything I done up there. Well, they paid em two or three dollars, maybe a week; they made quilts and such as that. I'm not going to use her name, because I shouldn't do that.
PN: When you got your funiture, did you usually buy that at the company store?
LA: No, we usually, most of the people in our area there bought their furniture in Hinton. You see, you could go up on the train to Hinton, and we had so many trains running them. At one time it was, I 'd say at least ten trains running every day. And so most of the people went either there or came to Beckley. You came to Beckley and got your furniture; we bought many, a lot of things from over here and we bought from Hinton. And some people would go to Charleston, to Huntington, not all the way to Huntington. But then Mr . Garten of Meadow Creek, he had a general he would buy cabinets and such as that, if you wanted it. But most of ours, we bought in Hinton. Well, one thing that bothers my oldest sister who still lives there, she's 80 old this past time, and they knew everyone in Hinton, so we bought most thing from Hintonon account of the transportation. See, when people would say, what they say move, you go from one town to the other, somebody moved out —— they would move a boxcar, as we called it, at the depot at Quinnimont . And you put your furniture in there, and you moved down to Sewell .
PN: In a boxcar?
LA : In what we called a boxcar on the railroad.
PN: Was there a union for railroad workers this whole time?
LA : There was, but see, it was hard, it was tough until Franklin D. Roosevelt came in in 1932. You had to struggle, they had for railroad workers, and even coal miners, and everyone else then. But it wasn 't strong. It couldn't be, until like, people like John L . Lewis and them came in to make it strong. And now, that part of it was tough. But one thing about it, the food was inexpensive; and like I say, you raised your own garden, and you canned. My mother canned always 150 quarts of blackberries, and we picked them ourselves, me and my brothers and even my sister. mienever we got up, we put leggings on, and a little bottle of turpentine, and we hit the berry fields. My mother canned them, and she made blackberry preserves and such as that. And then she canned other things from the garden, It was canned; there was nothing frozen.
PN: What type of vegetables did you grow usually?
LA: Well, we always had green beans and corn and, of course, we always had our potatoes. We buried our potatoes; you put your, you know how you bury potatoes, I'm not going to go into that, but we buried our potatoes. And with blackberries, and, like I say, a few strawberriesyou didn't get too many strawberries then; most of the strawberries we had then was wild. But green beans, and well, sun squash, tomatoes aw, you canned oodles and oodles of tomatoes. But you didn't have any, no you never froze lettuce. When you got lettuce, that was a specialty on Sunday, or some time when you could go up to the store and buy some lettuce.
PN: You never grew it though?
LA : We grew lettuce all the time, but you can't preserve it. I mean, maybe now, we freeze some now in our freezer, but you didn 't have any back then. It wasn't a rough life. Now, that I 'm looking back on it, it was sort of rough, but we didn't worry about it. You didn't worry about things then. And then when Uncle Sam called, and I went in the service, that was it. I spent, me and my two brothers, just went in here; and my twin brother, our numbers wasn't even close in the draft, but we all got called the same way, and we all left home the same day. We left from Lookout, and rode a bus into Huntington, and from Huntington, they went and give us the examination, and they put us on a train and took us to Fort Thomas, Kentucky. And the third day, I believe it was, my brother over here left--the one that's in here left; we was on K. P. together, that's him here [in Beckley] , we was on K.P. together. AndI never saw again until I got off the train three years later at Prince. And when you came back to Prince after the service, did you
LA :I stayed for a little while, but we lived at Quinnimont. We lived at Quinnimont. After about 15 days, I told my mother, I said, "I'm going back to work. I already had a job on the railroad. And she said, "hope you do; you're about to worry me to death walking around the house, nothing to do." That was in 1946. In 1947, a house was available at Prince, and I bought the house in Prince for Mom and Dad. And they was tickled to death, and we moved to Prince. And from that time, until they moved up into here, we lived at Prince. Till we bought this place here.
PN: When did you move up here?
LA : Four years ago.
PN: Four years ago? You lived in Prince all the rest of that time?
LA : All that time, because we were railroad men, and our jobs were there. My brother here, and my job, I was Signal Maintainer. He worked at Raleigh, and he worked at other places as a Clerk. And he was more fortunate than I was. The clerks' union was different from the signalmen's union; we had the best union, there's no two ways about it.
PN: The Signalmen's Union?
LA : The signalmen's union. The only thing about it is, they don't have the clause like the clerks had that, when the clerks and the telegraph operators combined, then there were so few jobs. I mean, closing all the telegraph stations such as that, they bought his job for $15,000. And whenever I took off, they didn't give me a penny.
PN: They paid him $15,000?
LA: They bought his job, and then he went on disability pension. They pulled me out of service on account of occupational disability. And I didn't get a thing. I just, for one year, I got my regular disability benefits and pension benefits, and then when that was over, that was it. So what I'm on right now is occupational disability.
PN: When did you finally...
LA: In 1973 is when they pulled me out of service, on the railroad, they pulled me out of service. I'm not retired now, Mister, when I get through talking with you, I 'm going to see Mister; he called me yesterday, he said, "Lace , I need you at the unfinished furniture. " And he said, "Lace, I need you. And Mr. French is a good man; I wouldn't want a finer person to work with. And he said, "I know you need a job." I want something to do. I was thinking of mowing the lawn; you can see it needs it right now. Well, my sister works hard at her flowers, as you can probably see here. And I love my flowers, my mother did. We 're crazy about our flowers.
PN: When you used to live In Quinnimont, did people usually grow flowers like this?
LA: Oh yea. Everybody, everyone, you had flowers and you had a garden. But everyone had a few flowers. You had dahlias and such ag that, and roses. Everyone. That was a clean community for a long time. But like I say, when I came back from the service in 1946, I came back in January, well, the Criss Lumber Company had taken over. And the only thing he wanted to do is get them trees out of that hill, and that was it . That was it. The hell with the town and everything else. And the town went down. Naturally it went down, because, well, the people lost interest, and the railroad people started to move here to Beckley. And the people who was coming in there was, I hope you will edit this [out] , they were people who wasn't used to the money that we were making. Even though we were making maybe two or three dollars an hour, they were making fifty cents an hour.
PN: What did they do? Worked in the lumber
LA : They worked in the lumber for him. He brought them up from the South?
LA : In the woods, he brought them from Virginia and in there, from North Carolina.
PN: He didn't hire local people?
LA : No, he wouldn't hire them, because they wouldn't work for his pay . They wouldn't work for his pay. My goodness, those guys, if they was getting forty cents an hour, they were lucky.
PN: Forty cents an hour?
LA : Forty cents an hour, were lucky.
PN: At that time, if you worked on the railroad, you'd make two or three dollars an hour.
LA: No, you didn't make that an hour; you made more than that [ forty cents] , but your benefits was so much better, on the railroad.
PN: What did you get an hour at that time?
LA : At the time I started work?
PN: No, the time when you were saying that this lumber company would pay forty cents an hour? This was around 46?
LA: I was getting $1.85, But you see I had to move, I mean, I couldn't get it at Prince. I wasn't an old enough person to hold that much rights. And so I went down to Virginia to work, I went to Indiana, I went to Kentucky, I went to Ohio, I went to Illinois; that was what we called the C&O system.
PN: But your home was still in Prince?
LA: My home was still in Prince. I came home about every two or three weeks, on account of that Mom and Dad was living, till both of them passed away in 1955. And then when I came back, then I stood for a good job. 1 mean, I want to say a good job, making more than the average person would, making as much, if not more, than the coal miner would then. So I took the job as maintainer at Prince.
PN: As a maintainer, that's what they called you?
LA: What they call signal maintainer. You maintain the signals. Jus t like the signal lights you go through here in town? Ours is different. They had to be perfect. And I 'm proud of the fact that I was one of the best; I could do some work that no one else could. I 'd like to take you sometime, if we get the chance, Paul, it'll be perfectly legal, to go into one of those relay houses and relay cases. Oh man, people don't realize what's in there and what happens. The biggest thing that I was especially in —— I don't want you to use too much of this on here because I 'm not working with the railroad anymore —— was the hotbox detector. You know what the hotbox is on a boxcar that goes like that. The Timkin, they're using more Timkins than anything else .
PN: Timkins?
LA : Timkin is the one they're using more than anything else. And it's the best; you never have to exchange it . But the other ones, you have to put what we called ' 'dope" or put some oil in it and put some, actually, rags . I mean, that would show up; as it goes by, if there was anything defective about that, that indicated, an indication went to Hinton from Thayer —Hinton, which is the main place the detector wag [in Thayer] , the worst place in the world because it was hard to get in to. It wasn't for me, because I used a yellow motor car. But I knew, I studied that blueprints, and I worked on it hard until I felt I knew that; a lot of them didn't. If they
get any trouble, the first person, they had to call me. I've had a lot of experience with it; I mean, it is a technical thing, my. It's one of those things like, with these computers, that gets a hairspring. That's it. Usually a little adjustment on a nut in there; I mean, you could just move it a hair.
PN: When we were talking about Quinnimont before, you said that the Beurys were the people that once owned it.
LA: The Beurys was the people that owned it the major time. Now, before that time, from what I can understand, it was Smith. And that 's where they got, from the mountain back there, the Smith Mountain part of it. Then the Beurys took over, and then the Lawtons operated it. And while the Lawtons were operating it, that's when they had the store at Prince, I mean at Quinnimont; they had a nice store there. And when it burned, I saw it when itburned.
PN: When was that?
LA: Oh, l'd say, maybe '49, or '50. I was working at Prince at the time, and we saw the big blaze over there at the old coal company store. And Mr. Watkins, the man who was superintendent, it was his brother both of them are dead now —— that was operating the store. And they had a good store, they had a good meat counter. They Ind fresh meat every week; well, it was only once a week; that's the reason, well, usually, Armour would bring it to the company stores. But most of those company stores like that had good butchers, like over at Mt. Hope right now. Well, a classmate of mine, Charles Craiger, why, that's the best butcher in this country. He graduated with me from Mt. Hope High School. He's still at the company store at Mt. Hope; he's the chief butcher there right now; and he's tough.
And he's a Lion's Club member with me too; I belong to the Lion's in Mt. Hope, have for years. I 've not been very active lately. I'll tell you, whenever you 're on retirement like I am, this EIS, the way the gas costs right now, you got to watch how you travel. Cause a lot of people that I know out here that are getting perhaps Black Lung are getting a lot more than I am. Like I say, this is the first Sunday I haven't been over to the Presbyterian Church, cause I sing in the choir at the Presbyterian Church. 1 am very proud of that. Three years ago, I was President of the men of the church. It's just people that I know, that you like be with people like that. I grew up here. I heard Hulett Smith not too long ago, the former governor, you know. He's a wonderful teacher, he knows the Bible; he's one of the best teachers you ever heard. I don't know what church you belong to. Are you a Catholic?
PN: A Methodist.
LA : A Methodist. My sister in Hinton is a Methodist Republican, and that's all there is to it.
PN: One more question. If you had to sum up in a few words the differences between living today and, say, living in Quinnimont back in the twenties and thirties, how would you describe the differences in a few words?
LA: I don't know. I think it's equal in a way. I mean, so many changes have happened . I always like to think that the changes are for the best; maybe I t m not the best politician in the country. But I think that the changes that have come in in our schools, and such as that, they're for the better. When I look back, it was enj oyable; it may have been a little rough, but it was what was going on. And you took it the way it went. And so , I don't know, I wouldn't change anything then, and I don't think I 'd change too much now. I think it's sort of, maybe the word's not appropriate, but equilibrium, don't you? I think it's just as good today as it was then. We're all the time fussing about how times change, and how things are getting worse all the time. I don't think they are, do you?
I'm very optimistic about, I'll tell you one thing that I do know. Like I say, I'm a Democrat; I have great respect for anybody that's a Republican; it doesn't make any difference, I have great respect for them. I like Underwood; I don't like Moore. But I'll tell you, the three speeches that I heard this past time at the Democratic Convention is the best, I 'd like to get a tape on that. When the man from Florida spoke, the governor; and then Mondale gave a wonderful address, in my estimation; it wasn't a speech, it was an address. And then whenever Carter it, a good address. I mean, I was a little wondering about what was going to happen. But I 'd like to have a copy of those three addresses. I think that's three of the best I've ever heard, and I've listened to some awfully good ones in my years. I heard some awfully good, I've been to a lot of places.
[END OF TAPE]
Oral History Project - Bennet, Wallace Roscoe 1980
Interviewer : Paul J. Nyden Beckley, W. Va. 25801 October 1, 1980
PN: Maybe we could start off, if you could just mention where you were born and where you grew up.
WB: I was born at Quinnimont, West Virginia, which is down on the gorge, August 30, 1910. And I spent the biggest part of my life, or the early half of my life in the gorge. We left there, and went to Greenbrier County, and came back to Thurmond in 1918. And I lived at Thurmond from 1918 until 1933, when I moved to Oak Hill.
PN: What did your father do?
WB: He was section foreman on the C & O Railroad, stationed at Thurmond.
PN: During the entire time that you were living in Thurmond, was your father working for the railroad?
WB: That's right, yes.
PN: When you were living in Thurmond between 1918 and 1933, were you employed by the railroad?
WB: I was after I got, while I was still in high school, I worked on the railroad part—time, as a relief clerk and stenographer, on the Hinton division; worked at Thurmond, Raleigh, and Rainelle, and Hinton.
PN: During this period then, between 1918 and 1933, I 'd like to ask you a number of questions about the appearance of Thurmond, and you could add any other thing you wanted to. How many houses would you say were in the town?
WB: There was around 600 people lived in Thurmond at the peak, which I suppose, say, divide that by four, which would be 150 houses; or three, would be 200 houses. However, there were apartment houses; people lived in apartments there above the Banker's Club. And on this side, the south side, that I was telling you about, the old Collins store had four apartments upstairs over that. And then, of course, some people worked at Thurmond, boarded at the hotel and lived else— where, you see. There was two hotels, and they had railroad men would —say lived at Hinton, or Huntington, or Charleston, anywhere board at the hotels and go home on weekends.
PN: What were the names of the two hotels?
WB: The Dunglen’s the one on the south side of the river, and the Lafayette was the one on the north side. Both of them's burned.
PN: Did most of the people that lived in the hotels working there at Thurmond, or were there tourists or people…
WB: No, worked at Thurmond. However, there was salesman or any itinerants that would come in would spend the night, or whatever, any business they had to transact, and coal operators. Say, if you owned the mines down there, and you lived in maybe Philadelphia, for that matter. They’d come there, and transact their business, and stay at the Dunglen Hotel. And salesmen would come there, I may be rambling off…
PN: No.
WB : Beneath the Dunglen Hotel, on the ground floor, they had a large room that the salesmen would come, they'd call them "dummers" back in those days, and they would bring their trunks, come in on the train, and bring their trunks with samples of whatever they sold. And merchants from up Loup Creek, and up and down the river, would come there and pick out what they wanted. And the salesmen would order it for them, and it 'd be shipped in then by express or freight. That used to be a big deal. Incidentally, one time, I forgot what year it was, but I was a pretty good—sized boy, Billy Sunday came there to preach one time in this basement of this Dunglen Hotel. Come in on his private railroad car and preached. Of course, everybody down there went to hear him, see him and hear him. The only thing I remember about the sermon was that he, the ushers passed the collection plate around they were dishpans, big metal dishpans —— and he made an announcement not to let the pan rattle. He meant he wanted greenbacks instead of change, see. That's the only thing I can remember about his sermon [laughs].
PN: Was he pretty popular back then?
WB: Oh yes, Billy Sunday was something like Billy Graham today; he was way before your time. Billy Sunday was one of these ranting, raging, fist—pounding; he was quite a character, Billy Sunday was. And he was nationally known; he wasn't just a local preacher. Of course, back in those days you didn't have radio and television to broadcast over; you had to go in person to get your audience.
PN: Was Thurmond a relatively unusual town, would you say, because it had these apartment buildings and big hotels?
WB: For that time, and in that area, it was unusual. Everything centered at Thurmond; it was a hub. It was the junction of Loup Creek and New River. And all the coal that was shipped up and down the river came to Thurmond to be, train made up to go east or west, to go to Tidewater or go west, whichever was shipping the coal. That is, from, between Quinnimont and Thurmond, they'd bring it down; say up to Thayer, they'd bring the coal down to Thurmond to ship it. And on as far away as Ansted, on down; and up Keeneys Creek, and down on south side, there was a lot of mines, see, all down the south, south side of the river, which is this side, from MacDougal. There's a lot of mines up this side, and then there was several mines on the north side of the river. And they all brought the coal into Thurmond, and you make up a train, there you see, at Thurmond for the main line to pick up. So Thurmond was really a hub. There was, I suppose you read the history of it. In 1911, Thurmond did more business than Cincinnati and Richmond. The C & O Railroad grossed $45 million that year, and $24 million of it was at Thurmond. So you can imagine.
PN: Shipping of coal, primarily?
WB: Yea. Many, a many time that I was a boy down there, I 've seen express trains, see back in those days, they run an express train in addition to the passenger trains, and local freights, and manifests. And 1 've seen an express train come in there, and there'd be a mountain of express out there in front of the depot. It'd take them 40 minutes to unload it. It'd delay the train, see; they'd have to stay there 40 minutes just to unload the express off. The express shipments of goods. But now, it didn't all go into Thurmond, see. As I said, Thurmond was the hub. If you lived in Mt. Hope, or Glen Jean, or Oak Hill, you ordered something by express it would come into Thurmond, and then was rerouted onto a branch line, you see, out of Thurmond. So it was handled again, see. That's why there was so much, and the freight depot there —— I don't suppose you 've ever seen it, because they tore it down a few years ago. It was right by the side of the river there, just adjacent to the present depot. And I can remember when, in addition to office staff Stud Ramsey was the freight—house foreman he had nine employees under him just handling freight. Can you imagine that? I don't know a depot nowhere now that has nine employees handling freight. Of course the trucks took all the business now. But you can just imagine that, how much freight nine men could handle in a day. See, as I say, they'd take it off the main line, and reroute it, and maybe some of it would come to, up Loup Creek; some of it would go down on a local, put it on a local freight, and take It, say, down to Nuttallburg. See, it'd come in on a manifest, or some other fast train, fast freights.
PN: What's a "manifest"?
WB: That's a fast freight, time freight, run on a schedule like a passenger train. I know you've seen a train go by, high speed, with a lot of box cars and oil tankers and such they are manifest trains. Coal trains are mostly coal, hauling coal. Then they have a-they don't have them today —— local freights. Say, they was running a local freight from Thurmond to, well to Ansted, say. All right, they had some freight for Beury, they had some freight for Fire Creek, for Sewell, North Caperton, Kenneys Creek, Nuttallburg, Fayette, and so on, and on down the river into Hawk's Nest. This local freight would drop freight off at each one of them, stop at each one of them stations and drop the freight off.
PN: In Thurmond at this time, could you list the types of buildings there were other than homes? Like you mentioned the two hotels. What else was there?
WB: I'll try to enumerate them. There was two banks: New River Bank and the National Bank of Thurmond. Then there was a theater; Collins had a theater there. Then Stanley Panas had a shoe shop under the Collins store on this side of the river. And then a fellow, a colored fellow named Moses had a shoe shop on the north side of the river above the depot. And then there was several stores down there: New River Grocery, and Snyder—Carter Company had a store down...
PN: What was that, a grocery store?
WB: If it was a Snyder—Carter, It was a dry—goods store; if it was New River, it was a grocery store. Well, they had two rooms one was groceries, one was dry goods. And then there was two jewelry stores in Thurmond at one time, and two drug stores Mankin Drug and then the South Side Drug Company. I can't think of the name of the jewelry. But, and then now, let's see, there was the Dog Wagon we called it, it was a little restaurant there by the railroad crossing. And then on down the street we called it a street, it wasn't really a street there was, called the Greek restaurant. It was there, right beside the Banker's Club today; the old building is nothing but a hull now. And then, of course, both hotels had dining rooms; you'd get your meals there.
PN: Would the Greek restaurant, did it serve Greek food or something?
WB: No, it's just that Greeks run it, they served American food. Greeks run it for a long time, and then it was later took over by Americans. It was right, quite prosperous. They all did a big business. Now Mrs. Duncan had a boarding house on this [south] side of the river; she kept boarders and roomers. I don't think that building's there any more. You know where the Rescue Squad building is? Well, there was another large, behind that was a large building up there that Mrs. Duncan used to. And oh, the Rescue Squad, that was a funeral home, later after this store that I was telling you about a while ago burned that had all the, old funeral and home, the theater, along with Collins' grocery store, the dry goods store, and Doc Likens' drug Store, and then Collins had a furniture store, then four apartments upstairs over. That building burned in 1922. And then Collins moved his mortuary to the building that used to be the old South Side saloon; it's the building the rescue squad's using down there now. It's been remodel led; it doesn't look much like the same building now. It had apartments upstairs over it.
PN: You said before that about 600 people lived in Thurmond?
WB: Yes, that's about the peak; wouldn't have been room for anymore.
PN: How many lived in individual houses?
WB: I never did count the actual houses, but as you can see by that picture there [pointing to a photograph on his home office wall], which was taken in 1920] there was lots of houses down there. And, of course, lots of them today, there's a lot of them been torn down. There's nothing like the houses down there today there were then.
PN: How many rooms would each of those homes have?
WB: Oh, four or five.
PN: And how would they use those rooms usually?
WB: Well, you'd have a living room, and a kitchen, and a couple of bed— rooms, something like that you know. Railroad men lived in them; some of them had big families; some didn't.
PN: There weren't miners living there?
WB: I don't know of any miner lived in Thurmond, because there was mines close by, and they lived in coal camps. See, right across the river there from Thurmond was Weewind and Erskine, and they built that houses, people that the miners lived. And of course, not very far down— stream was Rush Run, and Beury, and Fire Creek, and so on; they was the mining towns, and all the miners lived in those towns. If you worked back in the old days, you worked in the coal camp, you lived there, and spent your money there. That's why there wasn't so much money in general circulation. Today there's, I made an economic survey of this area in 1965 when I was Secretary of the Chamber of Commerce. And there was 87 coal mines that had worked out in a ten—mile radius of Oak Hill then, in ’65.
PN: Eighty—seven?
WB: Eighty—seven; though, of course, that's air—line. Today there's probably way over a hundred. But there's more money in circulation here today than there was then, cause people, if you lived down in Whipple back in those days, oh, before the unions got so strong, if you worked there, you spent your money there. If they caught you spending your money uptown, they'd either lay you off or put you in a water hole —— you couldn't make a living. It was rough on you back in those days. But, no, I lived in Thurmond all od, I don't know of any coal miner lived in Thurmond. And I used to know every human being, cat, and dog down there. And I don't the mine. and know of a single coal miner that worked in the mine.
PN: Just going back to the homes a minute, how would people, say a typical railroad family that lived in one of these homes, how would they furnish it inside? What type of furniture would they have?
WB: Well, they'd have nice furniture. Railroad men was the cream, or the elite I used to say, of the working jobs, or working—class people. Cause, well even back, four to six dollars a day was big money then. Of course, that's, you that more than that an hour now. But they had had nice furniture. When I was a kid, we were so poor, that I used to go visit my friends, and I 'd see linoleum on the floor. I thought they were rich, because they had linoleum on the floor, even though you weren't. We all, we had in our house was wood flooring, scrubbed with lye, and turned white. But, of course, those were happy days; [but] comparatively today, you wouldn't want to go back to it —— outside privies and all that stuff; you'd have to carry water, go out and round up firewood, get up early in the morning and build a fire.
PN: Were most of those homes heated by wood?
WB: Coal, wood and coal, yea, coal principally. You used wood to start your fire, and then you used coal. It takes too much wood to keep your fire going all the time.
PN: There wasn't running water in this whole period?
WB: On the other side, the north side of water over there. But on the south side, except in the Dunglen Hotel; and they, of the river, they had running there was no running water, course, had to pump their water. But the houses just a, carry it out of a creek or stream.
PN: Was there any gas or electricity?
WB: Oh no; electricity, but there wasn't any gas. Wasn't any telephones. Well, back when I was telling you a while ago about Thurmond being the exchange, the telephone exchange for this whole area, I betcha there wasn't, each mine had a telephone, but the individuals didn't have telephones. They didn't have any use for them. Of course, it didn't cost you much, probably a dollar a month. But then you didn't need it, so you didn't have it. Just holler at somebody; if you want to tell your neighbor something, just holler.
PN: What did you eat back then generally?
WB: Well, we ate about the same food as you do today. It didn't cost near as much. But comparatively it did, cause, you was making, well when I started working on the railroad, you got 40 cents an hour. And of course, that's $3.20 a day. Well, milk was six cents a can; I don't know what a can of milk is now, maybe 30 or 40 cents for a can of milk today. Bread was five, ten cents a loaf, and now it's, tear a dollar bill off just to buy a loaf of bread today. Flour was just about 39 cents for 24 pounds back then; lard, cheap, for three cents a pound; butter was ten, fifteen cents a pound.
PN: Did you buy your food at a company store?
WB: No, Collins, you see, Collins had a grocery; we bought all our groceries at Collins. And then there was another grocery store across the river. Then later on, sometime later, the C & O, it was called Fitzgerald and Company —— but they were tied in with the railroad — they had a comissary over there. But only people that worked for the railroad, and you couldn't spend money in it. You see, they'd take it out of your pay, see. You'd go over there and cut some paper scrip, like I showed you a while ago; then they'd take it out of your pay, see. If you bought fifty dollars worth of groceries this half, two weeks, it would be taken out of your check when you got it. Ripley had that in his column one time about that store down in Thurmond that you couldn't spend money in. It was a comissary, and you had to spend that scrip, railroad scrip, paper scrip, it was. They were a little bit higher than anywhere else, you see.
PN: The scrip was issued by the railroad company?
WB: By this store called Fitzgerald and Company, and they were tied in some way or another with the, I don't think it was actually owned by the railroad company, but somebody had a franchise with, they had several different places along the railroad, Fitzgerald and Company. It's the same building that the post office is in, in Thurmond. Remember that metal building as you go down the street there below the crossing? That's where the Fitzgerald store was.
PN: Did you have a radio at this time?
WB: Not till about down around 1930, I think, we got a radio.
PN: What types of programs did most people listen to?
WB: Bradley Kincaid of Cincinnati, who was one of these hillbilly singers. And KDA in Pittsburgh, and WLW in Cincinnati, that's about the only stations around. There wasn't any in Charleston or anywhere else. And incidentally, when you bought a radio back in those days, you didn't have built—in antennas like they have today. You don't put no antenna for a radio today. You get out there and stretch, it'd look like clothesline you 're stretching across the yard for your antenna. Yea, they used to sell them at Doc Ridge, when he run the South Side Drug Company, later years sold radios all up and down the river there, and man would have to out and stretch these clotheslines for antennas. We didn't have much variety though. As I say, WLW and KDKA was about all you had, and then Beckley, Oak Hill, Charleston.
PN: Did you get WSM from Nashville?
WB: Yea, used to get WSM too, cause I remember old Uncle Dave Macon, he sang there. He plays ten songs and never change the tune.
PN: What did people do for recreation or entertainment?
WB: Go to a movie. And then we had a ball field there, and we used to play ball, those younger or who was able to. Men, we called "big ball.” Did you ever see one? It's larger than a baseball, much larger. And you don't knock it as far. The ball field was right there; now it's all grown up and now you can't tell hardly where it was any more. Right beside the Dunglen Hotel, there's some bottom land there where Loup Creek comes into the New River. And if you'd foul a ball, go out in the river and get watersoaked, and then you couldn't knock it ten feet then after that. Not like today, we have these Little League teams, goodness, I don't know how many dozens of balls they use a year. We'd use one ball all year; tape it up with friction tape, you know.
PN: Why did you play this "big ball”, rather than regular baseball?
WB: You'd knock a baseball too far; your ball field wasn't far enough along, you see. You'd have knocked all the windows out of Dunglen Hotel with a baseball; it was right down the block. I 've seen those pretty strong boys hit those softballs up there on the porch.
PN: Did you have any league, like they did in Raleigh County and Fayette County?
WB: Not exactly a league. We had a ball team there, and Beury Mountain had a team, Weewind had one, and we always beat those teams. But when we'd come up Loup Creek to play Red Star or Glen Jean, they'd just beat the tar clean out of us. They had better players and better facilities to play on, better diamonds and so on.
PN: Did you play baseball then, when you were playing up at Glen Jean?
WB: No, we always played that softball. Couldn't afford a glove; had to gloves for baseball. Lord, I used to play first base, and they'd throw that ball over there, and I had blood running out of my hand lots of times. Those boys played shortstop or third base, and throwed that ball over there like a bullet, and they'd just bust my hand, like hitting two boards together. Couldn't afford a glove.
PN: What kind of churches were there in Thurmond?
WB: Well, a union church all denominations; it didn't make any difference what you were. And then, of course, there was a colored church or two on the south side of the river. But John Dragan bought that building that the church was in up on the hill, and uses it to store some of his rafting equipment in. Whichever kind of preacher you could get —— Presbyterian, whatever he'd come in; to make him feel good, everybody in town joined the church. And then they begin, the novelty'd wear off, and they'd begin to drift away. And then he'd get disgusted and leave. [laughs] And everybody'd join the church all over again. So I used to kid ‘em and tell ‘em. But it was a right nice little church. It was attended by, attended, all the time I was living there, it was always full on Sunday.
PN: Were there many immigrants from Europe living in Thurmond?
WB: No, mostly people lived in Thurmond, the immigrants lived, worked at the coal mines mostly.
PN: Not so much on the railroads?
WB: Not so much on the railroads. Now there were a lot of colored people down there. They came from over in Virginia, over around Buckingham. I used to hear 'em brag about Buckingham County; in other words, I thought that God's part of the world. I was going down to Richmond one time, and I said I want to see Buckingham, because I 've heard those colored people brag about it so much. And I got through the place before I seen it. [laughs] Such a little place, a wide place in the road.
PN: Did they work on the railroad?
WB: Uh huh; uh huh. And then they would, they would "shanty" down there. I don't whether you know what that term means or not — "batching" or "shintying”. If you notice going into Thurmond, you see those old boxcars sitting on the track over there, as you're going down the hill into Thurmond. Those are shanty cars. Say you were married, and you lived in Buckingham, or wherever, well you'd come down, and go home once a month, see. And you'd cook your own, batching is cooking your own meals and providing for yourself. And they didn't charge any rent. They had to have some place for the laborers to stay. That's what they stayed in, the colored especially.
PN: What percentage of the town was white? Do you have any estimate of that?
WB: Oh, I 'd say, like 95 at least. There wasn't too many colored people. Let's see, they worked on the section on the railroad track, and on the shop track, and in the shops over there some. There might have been 50 out of 600, which would have been a small percent.
PN: Most of them were men alone, or were there many families?
WB: Well, there was some families; some colored families lived there. The Moseses, the Masseys, lived over there on the south, mixed up with the white people up above the depot there. This Moses I was telling you about run a shoe shop there, and he had a big family. And, then this Massey lives on up there near the church I was telling you about. Then there's another family or two of coloreds up there, but I don't remember their names.
PN: Did Massey have a business too?
WB: No, Massey j us t worked for the railroad company. But Moses 's sons worked on the railroad after they up, but the old man hisself run this shoe shop. See back in those days, you'd take your shoes there. You wore a little hole in them, you'd have them half—soled; you didn't throw them away. It didn't cost but a dollar, a dollar and a half to have them half—soled. Just like another pair of shoes, see, wear them for another year or two. But today people, but if you got a really expensive pair of shoes, it pays you to have them repaired. But if you have a cheaper pair of shoes, it costs you as much now to have them repaired, wouldn't be worth fooling with.
PN: Did they have any saloons or taverns?
WB: No they went out, see when Prohibition come in. But I 've read some history here in Shirley Donnelly's column. There mentioned five saloons in Thurmond, but I don't know there were. They had the Black Hawk Saloon and the South Side Saloon, but there might have been some others, some cat—holes somewhere, but I don't know where they were. But they were closed when we came there. People still had whiskey, bootleg that they sold there, bootleg whiskey.
PN: Were the moonshiners making it around there?
WB: No, they'd bring it in there, see, they come in on the train with it sometimes, with a suitcase full of whiskey. Sometimes they go to Kentucky and get it and bring it over here. You go up and down the river, and bring in a suitcase full, and sell you a pint or a fifth. I think a pint was about three dollars, moonshine. But you didn't see drunks like you do today, especially around these beer joints. Because, to start with, you didn't have a beer joint in Thurmond. Beer, of course, didn't come in until 32.
PN: Did people make homwbrew, or anything like that?
WB: Never seen any down there, no. They might have made some and drank it, but you wouldn't have known it if they did. I heard of it, but I never did see anybody with it down there.
PN: Thurmond was unusual, though, in that the railroad was the main street, right?
WB: Oh yes, yea.
PN: Were there other streets or paths going off up the mountain?
WB: Well this road that leads from Thurmond to Beury Mountain was, you might say, a main artery through the town. It wound up the hill and circled around on down to the west end of town, and on back down to the railroad. Today, you can make that circle and come back up by the Banker's Club, come on back up to the depo. But back then, you couldn't; you couldn't drive it. Mr. Pugh cut a road from up the top of the embankment there down to the railroad, which he can drive now from, say the depot, down to his place of business, or his home there, but back then that road wasn't cut there.
PN: Did many people that lived in Thurmond have gardens?
WB: No, there wasn't any place for them. Might have had a little patch that didn't amount to much, but there wasn't any. See the yard, one side of the house was a storey or two off the ground, see. and rocky too. There wasn't much suitable for gardening. Now on this side of the river, there was some of them had gardens. But there it was so steep, you might have had a little patch that raised a few tomatoes, peas.
PN: Did people ever keep plants or flowers inside their homes?
WB: Oh yes. Lord, I got so sick of them things when I was a kid. I never liked them in the house; they always smelled like a funeral home to me, a bunch of old house flowers, you know. My mother used to have lots of those things. The sun come out and get warm, she'd have me carrying them out on the porch. Get a little cool, carry them back in the house. Strictly house plants, you know. I don't guess they bloomed year round, but they lived year round.
PN: Is there anything else that you'd say about Thurmond that you think is significant, that I may not have hit in these questions?
WB: I’ll tell you, one thing about in the heyday, and compare it to today, it'd really depress you, but I didn't say it, if you, it meant anything to you, which it does mean a lot to me because I lived there so long. And I could go down there now, and it'd really depress you, really. So many old friends that's gone. See I left there 47 years ago, and the children were grandchildren, grandparents today. I don't know very many people down there now, but it used to be, I knew everyone. But today, I don't. There's not very many of the old—timers living down there. Charlie Wa-Eer-'s still living down there; he used to be chief clerk for the trainmaster over there. He's been retired a long time now. I guess he's the oldest old—timer down there. And Erskine Pugh, of course Erskine [telephone rings].
PN: You were talking about your feelings about Thurmond?
WB: I say, when you go down there today, time was when you'd walk down the street, somebody to and lots of people knew me up and down the street. Always stop and talk to, and chit—chat, and so on. Today, if you go out on the street, you're the only one you see, yourself. You look in the mirror, you see yourself. Except around meal—time, I was down there the other day, about a month ago, evening meal—time. I went down to the Banker's Club, and of course it was full, because the raft—riders, or whatever you call them, were in there having dinner. But, you mentioned entertainment a while ago, back in the old days, when radios did come out, you know, Amos and Andy was a big deal, and Lowell Thomas. Now this was before your time, you 're a young fellow. But Doc Ridge run the South Side Drug Store; actually the South Side Drug Store used to be on this side of the river, but when it burned, they moved over there, and they called it still the South Side Drug Store. There used to be a Mankin Drug Store on the north side, and the South Side was on this side. But when the South Side burned out, they moved over there and still called it the South Side Drug Store. But anyway, every evening around six o clock when Amos and Amdy and Lowell Thomas would come on, everyone that lived down on the street, we called it, and apartments, and anyone else who wanted to go down there and loaf, would sit down on the street and listen to Lowell Thomas and Amos and Andy. We didn't have radios at home, you know. That was a big deal, listening to Amos and Andy and Lowell Thomas every evening.
PN: The two hotels the Dunglen and the Lafayette —— were they centers where people would gather and talk and?
WB: Play poker; the fellows that roomed there would go in there and play poker among theirselves, you know. That was way back before this big—time gambling, you see, when this fourteen—year gambling, poker game went on. That was, they tell me that big—time gamblers got to come in that really broke it up, see, professional gamblers. See, I know that, most of them, those fellows that lives, stayed in the Dung len and Lafayette Hotel would get among themselves out there in the lobby of the hotel and have a poker game, and nobody 'd bother them. It was all quiet; there wasn't any rowdiness or anything like that one way of entertaining theirself. The Lafayette and Dunglen you've heard the story on that, I guess, haven't you — how the Dunglen met its fate, didn't you. Have you ever heard that story?
PN: Maybe you could mention it?
WB: Well, business begin to drop off down there around, let's see, the Depression. Of course it dropped off everywhere. So, I don't know whether I should mention any names, course she's dead now, liable to have me sued. But anyway, the party decided there wasn't enough business for two hotels, so they hired two fellows two railroad men got em drunk and hired them to go set the Dunglen on fire. They went on the top storey and set it on fire, see. And cut out the competition. Well, they caught 'em, gave them three years apeice; they lost their job on the railroad both brakemen on the railroad. Lost their jobs and got three years in the penitentiary. Well, they couldn't prove this party actually hired them to burn. But to get, they knew that she did, but in court you couldn't prove it. So to get at her, they raided her hotel and found whiskey —moonshine whiskey, see. So they sent her to Alderson, the federal penitentiary; and sent her husband he didn't even drink —but his name was, he was running the hotel, he didn't have anything to do with drinking. He was a, the head engineer for Wilson Engineering Company down there, the company I worked for for 12 years.
PN: Wilson Engineering?
WB: Mm. It also burned them out too. [laughs] And sent him to Atlanta for three years, to get at em for burning his hotel. That's how it, the Dunglen met its fate. Then later, back in a, I believe about '57, I know I was City Manager and we sent the fire truck down there. The Dunglen was on fire, and we sent the fire truck down there.
PN: The Dunglen again?
WB: No, I mean, the Lafayette, excuse me, I meant the Lafayette caught on fire. But it didn't save it.
PN: That's when it burned up finally then?
WB: Oh yea, it burned clear down.
PN: In ’57 when…
WB: The Lafayette did. The Dunglen burned March 22, 1930.
PN: Was there still business in the Lafayette Hotel then?
WB: Oh yes. See the post office was in It, and a pool room in it, and then this New River Grocery Company 1 was telling you about had two rooms in the basement of it, it was the ground floor. Yea, there was still, things like. Of course, 1930 came and Thurmond begin to go down. Everywhere did. The Armour Company moved out then, moved their plant there; of course, that hurt bad.
PN: About 1930?
WB: Yea, about that time. They moved to Beckley. Thurmond started going down really in 1922. See, a lot of the business in Thurmond was on this side of the river too, cause as I was telling you about, all those stores over there. In 1922, that store burned, and of course Collins moved across the river. Well, Thurmond was never the same after that, see. It was almost like two different towns; there was almost as much business on one side of the river as there was on the other, see. It was all centered over on the other side then, when this store burned. But it really started down then. And of course by 1930, a lot of the mines had shut down, and there wasn't nothing like the population there. And the railroad, if the mines is not, producing coal, then they cut off the railroad people. I was cut off in 1931, and never did go back.
PN: From the railroad?
WB: From the railroad.
PN: And what were you doing on the railroad?
WB: I was, the last job I had I was secretary to the freight agent at Hinton.
PN: But Thurmond in the 50s was still more than it is today?
WB: Oh yes, yea, yea.
PN: When did it really decline to where it is today?
WB: Well, when these mines around here all, haven't been down enough in the last few years to really keep track of how closely. I t 11 tell you what cut a lot of people off too, when the dieselized the motive power, took the steamers out. See at one time, there was 175 men worked in that shops down there.
PN: In Thurmond?
WB: Yea, in the railroad shops. Beside what was up at the shop tracks up in the east yard. But when they cut those off, and I was down there some time —— last summer, or the summer before last maybe and there was only two or three people that works in those shops now. You can see what that would do to a town like that. Of course they 've cut off, my brother was yardmaster down there for years and, they used to have three yardmasters around the clock, you know, and they used to have three car distributors around the clock. And they had the trainmaster's office had a staff up there, and a ticket agent downstairs, and a baggage agent, express agent and there's nothing, there's a telegraph operator now, that's about all. Upstairs, all those offices up there are vacant now; they 've moved everything downstairs in one office. Railroad jobs theirselves, there's very few. I used to be call boy down there too some. They had 13 train crews, engine crews, well train crews; and today they got one. There just ain't any mines around here working any more.
PN: When you lived in Thurmond in this period, 1819, a 1919...
WB: 1819? [laughs]
PN: and 1933, did the railroad workers have a union of any kind?
WB: Oh yes, yea. B. of R. T. — Brotherhood of Railroad Trainmen; and telegraph operators had a union too. The clerks, they didn't have any union; they did later after I left the railroad, they got a pretty good union. But when I was with them, they didn't have any union. And the trackmen, nothing like that had a union that amounted to anything. But today, their unions are really strong, the railroad men. In fact, they just about broke the railroad companies' back with the high wages they get today, you know. Those trainmen, they go out there and throw that switch, and go home. They get their eight hours for it. If you was working on a section, went out there and worked an hour, you just got paid for that hour. You didn't get paid for the whole day. But their union's so strong, as quick as they get there, they get their pay.
PN: How about the miners back then? There was almost no union at that particular time, was there?
WB: They had a union, but it was never strong until Franklin D. Roosevelt came in in 1932. And he backed John L. Lewis and made the union strong. Then they got strong. Of course, the mining business didn't really pick up after the stock market crash in 1929, mines didn't really start picking up again until, of any significance until Hitler started raising cane over there. Started preparing for war, and then of course in '41 when the war struck why, of course, they, but they froze the price of everything during the war. You could have bought you a pair of shoes during the war, same price you, before the war, because they froze the price of everything. But brother, the day they lifted it! [laughs] The prices of everything soared. But you had to have a shoe stamp to buy a pair of shoes, a ration stamp. You had to have it to buy whiskey, and gasoline; I 've got some of those old gas stamps right now. You know to, A and C stamps, C was good for five gallons; seems like A was three gallons. Just rationed so much.
PN: When you lived in Thurmond and wanted to travel to another place, could you do much of that, and how did you go? WB: Well, back in the old days, we used the train. See, my father worked on the railroad, and I worked on the railroad — didn't cost us anything. Travel was free; you got what was called a pass.
PN: To Hinton or Charleston?
WB: Oh yes, we could go to California if we wanted to, because one railroad would honor another railroad's pass, you see. Now you could get to, order what you call "foreign passes" and go to California if you wanted to. It would cost you nothing, train fare, unless you got a Pullman. You go day coaches, you could ride to California and back, it wouldn't cost you a penny.
PN: Did you often go places?
WB: Oh yea, we travel led. No real long trips like California nothing like that. We'd go to Richmond, somewhere. Of course, it was a big treat to us just to go to Charleston. We thought that was something great, just to go to Charleston. Go down, my mother would take us down there lots of times to buy school clothes. We'd ride the morning train down and the evening train back Number Three down and Number Six back. That was a big deal, you know. Of course, Charleston didn't have the traffic [it does] today; you could walk all over, you know, wouldn't have the danger of being run down like you are today. I don't look forward to going to Charleston today. But back then, you know, that was a big deal. In 1919, they built the road into Thurmond. See, up until then, there wasn't any highway into Thurmond at all.
PN: Was that the road from Glen Jean?
WB: Glen Jean, set in, and next Thurmond. But, I forgot who it yea. They built it down to Newlyn. then bad weather year, then they finished it from Newlyn on down to I remember the first automobile that come in there. I forgot who it was now who drove, but it was an Oldsmobile car.
PN: What year was that?
WB: '19. 1919. And later on, I can remember when there was nine taxi cabs come into Thurmond. They'd line up out there, they used to go over, and fight over the passengers and grab suitcases out of the passengers hands. And the railroad stopped them, and made them line up. If I wanted you, I could pick you out, and let you come over and grab my satchel, see. It got so rowdy.
PN: Did you ever own a car? Did your family ever own a car when you were in Thurmond?
WB: Yea, at later years, they did, yea. But early days, no.
PN: In the late 20s, or something?
WB: And you won't believe this. But Thurmond had, and very few people I suppose remember this, Thurmond had an automobile agency at one time. A fellow named Thompson sold Gardiner cars down there. You never heard of a Gardiner car. They 've been gone for years; looked something like a Dodge. Up on the hill there above, it used to be Collins's big store. You go up across the railroad, you go up that first sharp curve, straight on, on up the hill, up on the upper road, a fellow had an agency —— it was just a garage, that's all it was, a family car garage. He didn't stay there long though. Cause he sold my uncle Carl Reed a car, and he might have sold another one too, and he moved to Ans ted. But they did have a car agency there. And they had newspapers printed there one time.
PN: A Thurmond paper?
WB: Yea, the something Herald. Seems to me like I 've forgotten. Shirley Donnelly got it in his column what it was. I 've forgotten the name of it. I don't remember it; it goes back, way back. Before 18; there wasn't any paper when I went there in 18. We got the Cincinnati Post; that was the big newspaper then two cents, yea, two cents a paper.
PN: People used to come to Thurmond from other towns for entertainment, didn't they?
WB: Oh yes. Get your hair cut; you'd come up to see the barber shop down there and pool room's all in the. same place. You could get hair cut on Sunday — from Gray Hetcher and George Flowser. Fourteen [the train] came up around 11:00 or 11:30, and Thirteen went back about 3: 00, up and down the river; one went east and one went west. But if you lived down at Elver ton or somewhere down the river, you'd ride Fourteen up and get your hair cut, and catch the Thirteen back, you see. He did a lot of business on Sunday. Yea, it was, of course, later years, when automobiles, roads got good, people started moving away and driving back and forth into Thurmond. Of course, that hurts too, you know.
[Note: This was one of the more difficult tapes to transcribe. There are some passages where one or two words may not be exact because of difficulties in understanding the original words.]
Oral History Project - Brandt, Grace and Emmett 1980
Interviewer : Paul J. Nyden Beckley, W. Va. 25801 October 7, 1980
PN: Just to start off, I was wondering if I could ask both of you when and where you were born.
EB: I was born in Greenbrier County, Lewisburg, West Virginia.
GB: And I was born in Sutton, Braxton County, West Virginia. What were the dates that were your birthdays?
EB: Nineteen and two, January the 25th.
GB: And nineteen one, October the 26th. That's soon.
PN: When did you first move to Glade? 1924.
PN: And you both moved from Lewisburg over to Glade in 1924?
EB: That's right. November the 1st, nineteen and twenty—four.
PN: What year was that?
EB: That was in 24, nineteen and twenty—four.
PN: When you moved to Glade, what was the type of work that you did when you went there?
EB: I went there railroading, on the railroad.
PN: That was the main C & O line?
EB: That was the main line of the C & O, yes.
PN: What were you doing in Glade?
GB: At that time, I wasn't doing anything, except that I did some sub— stitute teaching there.
PN: What was the year that Glade was originally started as a town, do you know?
EB: It was round about 1900, when it started.
PN: What were the main industries there, in that period?
EB: The lumber business, lumbering.
PN: And railroading.
EB: Yea, and railroading too.
PN: Was there one main lumber company that was operating?
EB: Well, there was one that was operated a good while, and then It went out of business, and then another one come and set up on the other side of the river. The first one was on the, on the, it was in Fayette County. It was on the Fayette County side. And the next one was operated on the Raleigh County side. And they had to put a railroad bridge in across New River, to get over to, you know, the main line of the C & O.
GB: In was built about nineteen and a…?
EB: Nineteen and twenty.
PN: Maybe you could describe again [they had done so previously before the taping began] what the name of the other town was, and the relation between the two towns.
GB: Hamlet.
EB: Hamlet was across the river. Now it was started about 1920 over there. That's when the first saw mill went in on the Raleigh County side, on that side of the river.
GB: And then on the Glade side, they just called that Glade.
EB: That was on this side [the same side as Meadow Creek].
GB: And the river divided them, you see.
PN: Yea, and both were saw—mill towns then?
EB: Yea, that's right. Glade was a railroad town, and on the Raleigh side it was a lumber town.
EB: No it wasn't, hon. There was a lumber town on this side too. It was, in Fayette County, on this side of the river. That was the first lumber mill that was there at Glade. That was before we went there, but these old—timers told me about it. And then there were signs of it there too, you know pieces of the old mill and all that stuff there. And you remember the old piers on each end where the boats landed on each side of the river there. They was in there when we first went there.
GB: Yea, that's right.
PN: They had a ferry?
EB: They had a big ferry, yea.
PN: When you moved there in 1924, how many houses were there in each of these towns?
EB: Well, there were close to, I expect there was 75 houses over on the Raleigh County side, and there was about 20 on our side. About 20 altogether, Gracie.
PN: How many people lived, you know, on each side?
GB: Well on our side, I figure, do you mean family—wise altogether or?
PN: Yea, the total number of individual people.
GB: Personal, personal individuals. Well, I expect…
EB: There were 75 people on our side. That is on…
GB: I expect there was.
EB: And on the other side, there was, well there at one time, I think they employed around 200 men on their saw mill. And in the woods too, you see. They had a woods gang that worked in the mountains in the woods cutting the timber. They had what they called the logging camp back in the mountains. And then they had a railroad, about 15—mile long, that went up Glade Creek; come out on top of the mountain up at the dam. You know where the dam is over there. It went all the way up to that dam, crossed the road up there. Got some of the logs beyond that road. PN: That brought the lumber down to…
EB: Yea, they brought the timber down; they would saw it up at Glade, there at Glade.
GB: And they put them on the mill ponds.
PN: What did the houses look like?
EB: Well, they were just lumber—camp houses, what we called Jenny Lind houses built up and down, tar—paper roofs on them; there was nothing fancy.
PN: They were pretty much like the houses that would be in a coal town?
EB: That's right, like the same kind, yea.
PN: Inside, did they paint the walls, or was there wallpaper on the walls?
EB: Well, there was mostly wallpaper, or sealing, lumber, you know, sealing inside.
PN: What do you mean, something that sealed it from the wind?
EB: Yea, that's right. And, you know, some of them, I think, was sheet rock, wasn't they inside? Some of the houses?
GB: I don't remember.
EB: Yea, I think there were some of them with sheet rock. But they didn't call it sheet rock then; they called it
GB: Beaverboard.
EB: Beaverboard, I believe that's what they called it when it first come out.
GB: But on our side, the, most of the houses were papered. And of course, there was this tongue—and—groove sealing, siding, under them on the inside. What do you call where they're sealed on the inside?
EB: Sealing. It's lumber, sealing.
PN: How many rooms were there in the homes usually?
EB: Well, there was about from four to six, four to six rooms.
PN: And what did people use the different rooms for, generally.
EB: Well they used one for kitchen/ dining room; it was a combination mostly. And then they had a living room and a couple bedrooms.
PN: Could you describe the kinds of furniture that people would use, as a rule?
EB: Well, they had a, you know, we had a wicker outfit, you know.
GB: I 've got the table to the wicker suite downstairs. I can tell you what we, how ours was, what we had. But of course, some of them weren't quite as fortunate as we. But now we had Aladdin lamps, and I had a kerosene refrigerator, and a gasoline washer. I had all conveniences with the exception of things that operated with electricity.
EB: But we didn't have that for a good while.
GB: Well, but we had it.
EB: Before we left Glade we had that.
GB: We hadn't been there very long.
PN: What did people eat back then?
GB: They raised their gardens.
EB: Gardens and…
GB: And their own meat.
EB: A good part of them did. We kept a couple of cows most of the time; I raised two to three hogs, and had our chickens, and stuff like that.
PN: Did most people that lived there keep animals?
EB: Well, the most of them kept a cow, and maybe a hog or two, a few chickens, and stuff like that.
GB: I think that nearly all of them had animals.
EB: Yea, that's what I'm saying.
PN: How about raising gardens; would you say that mostly everybody did that too?
EB: Yea, most everybody had a garden plot.
PN: Was there any store, or company store, where people would buy their food?
EB: Yes, there was a company store, and also a private—owned store. The Redden store was there when we first went there.
PN: That was the privately—owned store?
EB: That was the privately—owned store.
GB: And across the river was the company store.
EB: It was a company store.
PN: That was on the Raleigh County side?
EB: That was over at the saw mill, where the saw mill was too. They had a, what they call a “club house" over there. You know, it was kind of like a hotel. The travelling salesmens would stay there. And then they had another boarding house where the men that worked on the saw mill the single men boarded. It wasn't quite as nice as the one where the salesmen stayed in.
GB: And they had a doctor's office.
EB: They had a doctor's office. They had a church.
GB: A post office.
EB: And barber shop. Of course, the barber, he just worked part of the time, you know. He'd do something else when he wasn't barbering, of course; worked on the saw mill.
PN: But most everybody that lived on that side of the river, though, did work in the saw mill?
EB: Oh yea, they worked at the saw mill. They either worked at the…
GB: The ones on the Raleigh side; railroad, on our side, on the Glade side, they was railroaders.
EB: Well, there's some of them, Gracie, that worked across the river too, you remember. There was Manuel Richmond and that bunch of fellows that worked there; they worked on the, over at the saw mill.
PN: Back in the 1920s, when you lived there, what did people generally do for entertainment?
GB: Well, I'll tell you what we did. All of the children on our side of the river gathered up at my house, and we'd sit there and sing.
EB: Well, they pitched horse shoes, and had croquet, played croquet.
GB: They had their bicycles.
EB: They'd get out, and most of them might have had a, well if they didn't have a boat, they could get a boat, and boat—ride the river. And done a lot of fishing and hunting and trapping and all that stuff. I used to do a right smart trapping.
PN: What kind of animals did you…?
EB: We caught mink and muskrat and foxes — caught lots of foxes - bobcats.
PN: What did you do, did you sell the hides for furs?
EB: Oh yea, that's right.
PN: What did you hunt for, or what did people hunt for?
EB: Well they coon—hunted and squirrel—hunted and
GB: Rabbit.
EB: Rabbit—hunted. Turkeys there was some wild turkey down there, plenty of them. Grouse, quails there was some quail In there at that time. A lot more to hunt for then than there is now.
PN: Did you hunt for deer?
EB: I didn't then not when I was there. I do now though.
GB: I don't think that anybody down in there did hunt for deer then.
EB: No, it don't seem to me like there was any deer in there. I can't remember being any in there at that time. But of course, they were in there later. They stocked the place back in there, and they got scattered down in there.
PN: Did you have radios?
EB: No, we didn't have any radios when we first went to Glade. And it was several years before we got a radio.
GB: Well now, when we first went to Glade in 24, people had never heard tell of a radio. And then, I guess we got one of the first radios they ever had, and then Buren Martin.
EB: Buren Martin got the first one; he had the first one over there.
GB: Well, however. We got an Airlines from Montgomery Wards, and it was battery—operated. It was, it wasn't a table model, it was…
EB: Had three or four big batteries you put in.
GB: And at that time, along the way, they begin to talk about they was going to come out with a radio that you could see the people talking. And of course, that was television, but they didn't say it was television. But they said they was coming out with a machine that you could see the people that sat in New York talking. And we'd sit and wonder how could you see 'em on a little, just a little dial like that.
PN: What types of radio shows did you listen to?
GB: I guess we listened to just about everything that come on.
EB: You don't remember none of them, do you?
GB: Well, we listened to all…
PN: They had the Grand Ol Opry on there?
GB: Yea, country—and—western music, things like that.
PN: When you mentioned singing before, do you remember some of the songs, or types of songs, that you and some of the kids used to sing?
GB: Well, "They Cut Down the Old Pine Tree”, and "Lamplighter Time in the Valley, and…
EB: What was that one Benny
GB: Yea, “Springtime in the Rockies” and right off hand, just about every song that come out, we knew it. “They Cut Down the Old Pine Tree”, did I say that?
EB: Well they had Victrolas with records during that time too.
GB: We had a Victrola with the records. And of course, we didn't have this one then [pointing to their modern radio and phonograph], but I gave my grandson in Cleveland not very long ago an old phonograph that had the horn. EB: And three or four big boxes of records.
GB: One of our records that we memorized and sang so much was "The Preacher and the Bear”.
PN: Did they have any bars or taverns?
GB: No, no.
EB: They had a lot of moonshine though [laughs].
GB: But we didn't.
EB: But every other family down there made it or sold it.
PN: So there wasn't any problem getting it?
EB: No, oh no. It was pretty wide open.
PN: Did people make it right there in Glade?
EB: Well, right around, you know.
GB: Well, no, there wasn't anybody that made it right in Glade. They made it up on that Redden Mountain [which is on the east side of Glade Creek, on the Raleigh County side of New River], on the Raleigh side.
EB: Well, they made it, listen, listen. There was some made it right there close around. Oh yea.
PN: Did they have any baseball teams then like they did in some of the other…
EB: No, they didn't have none there. They just, you know, the kids would get out and play ball a little bit.
GB: It was just plain old ball. It wasn't anything like the World Series, or anything like that.
EB: The kids would get out and play ball — girls and boys and all of them would get out.
PN: It wouldn't be like some of the coal towns had baseball teams?
EB: No, no, no. They didn't have any regular baseball teams.
GB: What you would call the regular baseball team, I've got my very serious doubts that, at that time, that they ever heard tell of a regular baseball team.
EB: Well, you know Rosemary, let's see, she got her nose broke playing baseball, didn't she? Ray Durrett, you know…
GB: Throwed the bat…
EB: She was in back catching, and he was, she was supposed to be the catcher, and he was batting, and he swung the back bat and hit her on the nose, and broke her nose. That was our oldest girl. Had to take her and have her nose fixed up to the doctor.
GB: And another thing on the Glade side, the track would, there was a swamp. And the track come by this swamp, and the whole bottom fell out of the thing, and the railroad kept going toward the river. And they had to bring the man in there, and she said the railroad was just swinging, I don't know how far. And then that big flood in…
EB: '40, '42, '3, or somewhere along there; it was in the early 40s. It done an awful lot of damage. The river got up over the railroad down there in some places, up in the houses, washed some houses away.
GB: Dowm the river under the bridge; it…
EB: Well, it washed houses over to Meadow Creek here, and Sandstone on down.
PN: What was that year, '43?
EB: That was either '41 or '43.
GB: I think it must have been about '41.
EB: It was right in the early part of the 40s. Oh, it done lots and lots of damage.
GB: And they brought Haley, Chisholm, and Morris from…
EB: Over in Virginia. They come over there and, you know, made a lot of fills and cut their road bed back into the mountain, and lined the track to the mountain, so they'd have, you know, a road bed. It just took the road bed right out from under the railroad in lots of places.
PN: What was that, a construction firm or something?
EB: That was a construction firm, yea. Well, it was the same, they put in the second Big Bend Tunnel up here Haley, Chisholm, and Morris did, when they got this job done down here, you know, up at Hinton. They're the ones that drilled that second hole through the mountain up there.
PN: Back in the twenties, what was the religion of most people there?
EB: Baptist.
PN: And they had only one church in town.
EB: Let's see, no. They had church across the river where they had their schoolhouse up there. Didn't they preach at the schoolhouse, or did they have a church over there?
GB: Well, no, they had a church building up there, and a schoolhouse on the Raleigh side. On our side, we had the schoolhouse and…
EB: Up there at the church that's Lewis Durrett, you know, the church building.
PN: So there was one church on each side?
EB: Yea.
PN: Both were mainly Baptist?
EB: Yea, I think they were both Baptist.
PN: Did many immigrants live, were there many immigrants from Europe that lived in either Glade or Hamlet? poles or Hungarians?
EB: Them Italians, you know, over there.
GB: There were some DeLorenzos.
EB:They were Italians. The blacksmith that worked at Glade a long time.
GB: They were Italians.
EB: An Italian blacksmith. And then Louis, he was a Hungarian, Louis, oh, done the timber cutting, contracted timber cutting, Louis…
GB: The DeLorenzos…
EB: They were Italian.
GB: They were Italian, and
EB: Louis Mohair, Louis Mohair, he was the Hungarian. And he had a camp in the mountain up there, cut timber.
PN: He worked in the lumber industry then?
EB: He worked in the logging camp, you know, cut the logs, cut the timber, and pulling the logs out, get them up to the railroad where they could to them with the train, you see. He had horses, and the men done the cutting then; they didn't have chain saws, they cut it with cross—cuts. Those Italians, they carried 1 reckon you call it sort of a tribal name, you know. The man's name was Louis DeLorenzo. The oldest son 's name was Louis Halley DeLorenzo. They had one names Louis; his name was Louis Halley Louis DeLorenzo. And they just carried the first name of all three of them.
PN: Were there any Black families that lived there at the time?
EB: No, they was all white. No, let's see, wait a minute, listen. I made a mistake when I said there wasn't any there. Bill Fisher and his wife was there, you know, when we first went there. But he left right after we went there.
PN: What did he do, did he work…?
EB: He worked on the railroad; he worked on the railroad. And this colored fellow that she's a' talking about [in the background of the tape], he come there as a, well he was a machinist, and he worked on the saw mill. He was the engineer on the saw mill. He's the man that looked after the motors, you know, the steam motors, the steam engines that they had there in that mill. He was a real man on that stuff. And he'd come from a, oh, job over here at Babcock.
GB: And there was no way for either side of the river on the Raleigh or Glade, or on our side, the Fayette side that you could get out of there, only by passenger train.
EB: That was the only mode of travel we had in and out was passenger train.
GB: Five miles to Quinnimont and five miles to Meadow Creek — it was a ten—mile stretch there that there was no road.
PN: So nobody would have a car who lived in the town?
GB: No. No. We voted, we went from Glade to Quinnimont.
GB: We voted at Quinnimont; that was five miles below. And we either walked, or they had a local freight that run, carried freight. And they’d pick us up there on the depot platform at Glade, and take us to Quinnimont, where we had to go to vote, and let us off. And then the Raleigh run, if it come back after we voted, why they let us in the caboose, pick us up and let us off at the depot.
EB: You know we could wait on Number Eight, that passenger train that come up late in the evening, and ride it back to Glade.
GB: Yea, we could do that, but we usually come back up on the Raleigh run on the caboose.
EB: Yea, I know, to keep from staying too late, you know, or staying down there so long after we voted, we'd ride that freight train back down. And we had motor cars, you know, the section crews used motor cars to transport men to their work and back. And mostly on pay days, we 'd come up here to Meadow Creek; and if we wanted to buy anything up here at these stores they had more stores here in Meadow Creek than they did down there, they had about three stores up here we'd come up here and get our groceries and haul them back down on the motor cars. We did that a lot. And then the women, if they wanted to go to Hinton, well they could get on the passenger train down there and go up to Hinton and spend half a day, and come back down on the next passenger train that runs, you see. Or down the other way, they could go to Beckley. You see, they had passenger trains run up Piney Branch at that time. They could go down to Quinnimont, and get off there, and catch a Piney train and go up to Beckley, and stay about all day and come back home, yea. They had a lot of rail travel then, you see. We had 12 passenger trains, six each way.
PN: Were there any streets in the town, or was it mainly pths between…?
EB: No, there was just walkways like, you know. Just a railroad bed, about all. Now across the river, the bridge across the river, they put a board walk in between the rails to walk across the river. We walked the railroad bridge over and back, you see. Of course, we had to know when the train would be coming. If the train hadn't never come over and went back, you'd have to be a little bit careful about that, you know. Of course, the train crew would look out for everybody; if they seen them coming, why they'd stop and let them get on the engine and ride them on over.
GB: The people on the Raleigh side, the only road they had was the railroad track.
EB: Well there was, you know, there was several fellows that lived around Glade worked down the river on the railroad too. There was Harry Ward, and Jimmy Martin they worked at Quinnimont and lived in Glade, you see.
PN: Did the women that lived there ever do things like dye clothes or make soap, or things like that?
EB: They made soap, some of them.
GB: They made soap, yes, and they did dye clothes, some of them too
PN: Would they work at preserving meats or fish?
EB: Oh yes, we had our meats.
GB: We had our own…
EB: Beef. You see, during that time, around in the nineteen and twenties, we didn't have refrigerators either. We had to either can our meats, or salt 'em down to keep them.
GB: But then they come out with a kerosene refrigerator. We'd been in Glade about five years, I reckon, and they come out. When we first went there, they didn't have anything like that; you couldn't get it. Till Sears and Roebuck come out with a kerosene refrigerator. And as soon as they come out with that, it defrosted itself, and we got a refrigerator then. And then we got the gasoline washing machine. And they come out then with Aladdin lamps, and we had Aladdin lamps.
PN: What were they? Kerosene lamps?
EB: Yea, they used kerosene, used kerosene.
GB: But they made a whiter light actually than, well…
EB: They made just as good a light as electric lamps.
GB: As a hundred watt bulb in a dressing lamp.
PN: What, did you actually can meats in some way yourself?
EB: Oh yea.
PN: How did you do that?
GB: Well, I'll tell you now how we did our beef. We killed our own beef. And in the meat house we'd kill it late so it wouldn't spoil you know [late in the year] we'd hang the beef in the meat house.
EB: Let it cool out good.
GB: We'd let that beef hang there, and it would hang, part of it, of course we'd use off of it all the time. But the quarters hanging — they would freeze and thaw and drip; freeze, thaw, and drip. Until when spring would come, there'd be blue mold on them, and they'd be like dried beef. And then, by that time, why it begin to get warm, then he'd take what beef that we hadn't used, and he trimmed the mold off of it, and bring it in. I'd, he'd cook, and I'd help him cut it up in blocks, little…
EB: Chunks.
GB: Chunks, and I 'd wash that, then I'd dry it, so there’d be no…
EB: You know, dry it with a cloth, take the…
GB: Because you wasn't supposed to wash it and can it, but it's supposed to dry. And then I 'd just pack it in half gallon jars, and put a tablespoon full of salt in it, and put it on, and cold pack it. Didn't put any water in it — let it make it's own juice. And you can't get things like that today.
EB: No, you'd can that you know, cold pack. Well, she cooked it so long, when she calls cold packing it, she packs it cold, and then puts it in the, you know, in the hot water and boils it. You didn't cook It before you put it in the jar, you cold packed it. And then you put your, you put them jars on cooking for so long.
GB: You cooked them for three hours.
PN: That would preserve the meat?
EB: Yea, oh yea.
GB: They'd fix them just like peaches or anything you'd seal in jars.
EB: And it would be already—cooked meat. All you had to do just open the jar up and heat it and it was ready to eat. It was really good; it had the flavor in it too, you see, all the flavor cooked right in. It was better than fresh meat. And hams and stuff like that, if we had them left over, I have had hams that kept for two years, cured hams . And I would sugar cure those hams, hang them up, you know, and let 'em dry after I put the salt and the sugar on them. Then in the spring of the year, when the weather start to getting warm, why I 'd put them down in a feed barrel like a, you know, or an iron barrel, and put, well you could use middlings. You know, that's a ground—up grain you feed cows. And put that right down in on top of that, and that would keep the, everything out of it, you see. Or you could take dry wood ashes and do the same thing. But you'd have to wrap your meat up good before you put them down in, if you put that ashes over it, you see. And it would keep from now on that way. You could keep it 20 years, I guess, wouldn’t nothing go through them ashes. We done it that way.
GB : Well, you don't get meat that's like that now.
EB: You take one of those hams, and take it over there and cut it, and man, you can smell that frying for a mile.
PN: What kinds of fish did people catch?
EB: Well, they caught catfish, and bass, and walleyed pike, and suckers, and red—eyes. Mostly catfish is what they got out of New River then.
GB: And bass and pike. Oh yea, there was bass and pike. They done trot—line. And then most of those old—timers that really went in for fishing used them fish traps. Course it was agin' the law to use them, but they used em anyway.
PN: What were they, like big nets or what?
EB: No, they make them. They made ‘em like a, make ‘em so big around, and then they'd build a funnel, build a funnel. And to build that funnel, make it a, the strips that they used on 'em were hickory splits. Then they'd catch them things; I've seen 'em have a boatload of catfish.
GB: Then they'd take corn and put in the trap and, of course, the fish couldn't get out.
EB: Soured corn's what they used.
PN: What was that, you mean preserved corn?
EB: No, you take corn and let it sour good, you know, and put it in that trap, that would make your bait. And they'd go in there after that corn, and they'd get trapped in there. Then they, what they'd do, they'd pull them traps up out of the river there, take out what fish they want, and just drop it back with the fish in it. They had fish in the trap out there all the time there. A lot of them keep them like that.
PN: So they'd just keep the fish, whenever they wanted to eat…
EB: Yea, if they wanted to eat, they'd go out there and get what fish they wanted out of the trap, and clean 'em up. I’ve helped a fellow or two raise traps there, and he'd raise them, and take out what we wanted, and he'd just leave a whole bunch in there if he had a lot of feed in there for them. They'd just stay in there, and eat, and get fat, you know. Great big long trap, they'd be some of them eight or ten feet long — took two men to raise them up.
PN: These traps?
EB: Yea, oh yea.
PN: Could you do this the whole year round, or just in the summer?
EB: Well, he didn't do it in the freezing, when the river froze over, you know. Course I have seen the river froze solid down there. I’ve seen them haul coal across the river with a sled and horse down there. Don't never see that no more. But I guess on account of the dam up here.
GB: Well, across the river they had mules that they did a lot of their lumber work with.
PN: Did the people do anything to preserve fish like they did meat, or not?
EB: Not as I know of. They just had all the fish, most all the time, that they wanted to eat anyhow. Fresh fish. And another thing they had too was a ice house, across the river. The lumber company put, built them an ice house, and packed it. Well they'd order ice by the car load boxcar load and put in that ice house. And during the winter, [correcting himself] during the summertime, hot weather, if you wanted ice for your, now they had what they called regular ice boxes. You get that ice and put it in the box, and then you could set your milk, your butter, and your vegetables and stuff in that and keep it cool like. Of course, it wasn't like a refrigerator. It wouldn't freeze, it would just keep it cool. And then you'd have the ice to put in your drinking water. Some of them even made ice cream.
GB: On the railroad side, though, they sent ice from Hinton down in blocks [referring to the Fayette County side].
EB: Yea, the railroad men got theirs from Hinton. It come down on the passenger train every day. Dropped a big piece of ice off; the baggage men would come, you know, every morning, drop that big piece of ice off.
PN: Did people ever keep plants of any kind in their homes, just for decoration?
EB: Plants?
EB: Oh yea, they'd keep flowers.
GB: We had house plants, and then of course we had all kinds of flowers in our yard.
EB: And we burnt wood and coal all the time; we didn't have oil or gas.
PN: One thing I meant to ask you before about your jobs and your parents - where did your parents come from and what did they do?
EB: Well, my parents was farmers. My dad was a farmer.
GB: Up in around Lewisburg.
EB: Yea, they were all from up in Lewisburg, up in Greenbrier County. And her people, they were farmers. And your grandfather, he was a saw mill man.
PN: In Greenbrier County?
EB: Yea.
GB: My grandfather Stokes, he, in Braxton County, he had a mill. And then he, he had a saw mill, over in the Rocky Mountains somewhere.
EB: In Colorado, he was up there a while.
GB: My father now, my father's father, my father is, where is he?
EB : Your father was
GB : Up there at the top [discussing and pointing to old photographs hanging on their living room wall]. This was his father here, and he comes from Hamburg, Germany. No grandmother, I’m wrong there, Grandmother Marlowe come from Hamburg, Germany; and Grandfather Marlowe, from Lincolnshire, England originally. That was my immediate grandparents. And then my Grandmother Stokes’s father was from Sutton. Now that was my Great—Grandfather Stokes and my Great—Grandfather Sutton. See, the town of Sutton was named for the Suttons.
PN: Were those pictures from the Civil War?
EB: Yea, that's the Civil War.
PN: They fought in the Union Army?
GB : Yes, uh huh. Yea, they fought on the North side; they were Union soldiers.
EB: You used to help them the babies to Glade too, lots of times, didn't you, help the doctor?
GB: I done a little bit of that myself, even before the doctor got there.
EB: She was everything almost, postmistress.
GB: They’d send for me, and then holler for the doctor.
EB: Only a part of the time, they had a doctor. Most of the time, they had doctors in Glade. The first doctor we had there was Doctor Stokes. Then Doctor...
GB: Wilson.
EB: Ring.
GB: Doctor King, Doctor McClung.
EB: I guess McClung was the last one, wasn’t he, that we had. Who was the last? Johnson yes.
PN: When you worked on the railroad, what were the hours that you worked, say, back in the twenties?
EB: Well, I worked ten hours.
PN: A day?
EB: Yea, ten hours a day. But now, this job of bluff—watching that I had, now that was seven days a week. If there was 31 days in a month, I worked 31. If there was 30, I worked 30. It was seven days a week straight on through the whole year. PN: Ten hours a day?
EB: No, it was eight hours, eight hours then. But now when I first started to work on the railroad, see I started back in 1917 on the railroad, it was ten hours then.
PN: Did you get any days off then?
EB: Only Sunday. You would work six days.
PN: At ten hours a day?
EB: Six days, ten hours a day, at a dollar and seventy—two cents a day. That was 1917. That was before we moved to Glade; that's before we moved to Glade.
GB: That was before we was married.
EB: It was in 1918 that they started the eight—hour day on the rail— road, in 1918.
PN: Did the railroad workers have a union?
EB: Not at that time, not at that time they didn't, no.
PN: When did the union come in?
EB: Well, around a, it got pretty strong about 1935, somewhere along there. Most everybody, course it was a… GB: About the same time as Social Security.
EB: It was a voluntary thing, you know. You wasn't forced to belong to a union then. There was lots of the men didn't belong to a union. I did. I 've got a 35—year certificate, belonging to the union.
PN: What was the specific one you belonged to?
EB: Maintenance of way; maintenance of way. I 've got it in there on top of the cupboard.
GB: He worked 50 years to the day when he took his pension.
EB: From the day I started. Of course, I was cut off some. I was cut off one time back in Woodrow Wilson's time, long about in the twenties, the early twenties. I was cut off about three or four years during that time. That was before I was married; I wasn't married till 24. And when I got called back to the railroad then, why that was in '24. And that same year, we was married, 1924. And I give the mines up then.
PN: You worked in the mines?
EB: Yea, I worked in the mines for about three or four years.
PN: Where, around Glade?
EB: No, it was up in Greenbrier County, up above Rainelle on the G & E Railroad. Worked up at Leslie, and Quinwood, and I worked at Bellwood too. Did more work at Bellwood than I did at any of the other places.
GB: Then he went to work on the railroad, and took that job of watching. He made, his paycheck was $92.54 a month.
PN: For watching the bluffs?
EB: Yea, uh huh. That was a regular month's pay. They paid by the month — 31 day or 28 day a month. You take February 28, you got the same as you did for 31 day. It was a salary pay, you know.
GB: And we reared three children on that.
EB: And sent them to high school.
GB: And saved some money too.
EB: We saved a little bit of money. Of course, you see she operated the post office a while, and I carried the mail on the side, you see. I stayed on this three—to—eleven job most of the time on the railroad, from three in the afternoon till eleven at night. Well then you see, I could come in at night, I could be at home in ten minutes after I left my job. I lived right close to the job.
PN: This was the bluff—watching job?
EB: That was that bluff—watching job. I'd be at home, and be in bed, and asleep by 11:30. And I 'd get up the next morning about eight or nine o 'clock. I had all day to work in. That's when I done my farming. I also carried this mail across the river about noon. I'd be done with that about 2:30 in the afternoon, go to work again at three.
PN: How many days a week did you work then? That was when you worked every day?
EB: That was when I worked every day. But I worked on the mail carrying just six days a week.
PN: Your main job was to make sure that boulders…
EB: Oh yea, that's right, flag the trains…
PN: So they wouldn't…
EB: That's right, hit the boulders. Now I have had several different occasions, I've had both tracks blocked all the way across. And I had a train coming each way. And buddy, I had to move around. I didn't know which train I was going to get first. But I generally put out a fuse then one way, and flagged with my lanterns the other way. I done this 24 years that I worked there. I don't know how many different times we’ve had one track blocked, and had two tracks, both tracks blocked several different times. I never let a train hit a rock. I had a good record there, but it was just…
PN: What did you use, flags and flares?
EB: Yea, that's right. But I was lucky, I was just simply lucky. That's all there was to it. I was lucky. I remember one time, it was in February and the ground had been froze as hard as could be for a long time, and it come a quick thaw and a big rain. And I was on the west, [correcting himself] on the east end of the track, and I heard something far away down the road. I couldn't tell whether it was a big tree fall across the river or whether it was something fall on the track. And it was almost time for passenger train Number One — the George Washington and I walked back, and back down that track to the lower end of my beat. When I got to the lower end of my beat, I had one of these headlight lanterns that throwed a light ahead of me a good piece. And I seen something on the track down there that didn't look right. I went down there, and there was a big boulder had come down on the westbound track and knocked one rail over plumb against the other one, cut four ties in two, and had jumped over and was laying up in the eastbound track had them both blocked. And it wasn't, I started back with my flag. I knew Number One was due at the time. And when I got back up the road a little ways, I heered him blowing for Meadow Creek. I knew he wouldn't be long till he'd be there, and I got him flagged. And he had to back all the way from Glade to Meadow Creek, and come down the west track. But he had to hold him down there until the section crew got up there and put jacks, and jacked this big rock off of the other track before he could get by them. Oh, he'd have went in the river that if I hadn't have been there.
PN: He would have just derailed and gone off?
EB: Oh yea. It would have derailed him sure. One rail, it hit the one rail and just bent an elbow in it like that, and cut four ties in two. It knocked that track right over against the other track. It come off of the mountain with a lot of force. Oh it was big; it was, I expect, ten foot square and more.
PN: The boulder?
EB: The boulder was. They had to dynamite it to get it out of the track.
GB: Our children rode a school pass.
PN: After they graduated from eighth grade?
GB: well no. We sent Rosemary and Louis to Ronceverte to school until they got old enough that they could ride the train. And they started, 1 guess they was about the sixth grade when they started to riding the trains. And then of course my baby doll, she never did go to Ronceverte; she rode the trains all the time.
PN: Mr. Brown, maybe to start off, you could just mention where you were born and what date you were born.
AB: Well, I was born at Quinnimont, January the 13th, 1910.
PN: What did your father do for a living?
AB: Well, my father, he was a cook. He was born at Union, and he came here — I don't remember the exact date - he was married, he was a cook on, for the railroad. In later years, he worked at the hotel. And after the hotel burned down — I believe it was 1914 or '15, I don't remember the exact date he went to work for the railroad C. and O. Railroad — maintenance of way.
PN: Where was the hotel you mentioned?
AB: Down in Quinnimont.
PN: In Quinnimont?
AB: See, that used to be your main, as I before said, your transportation getting into Beckley was train. And back in those times, you had what you called "drummers" travelling salesmen. They'd come up on the night train, stay at the hotel overnight, catch the Piney train the next morning, go to Beckley, take the orders, come back, stay at the hotel another night, and go back west the next day.
PN: And where did you grow up? You grew up right here in Quinnimont?
AB: In Quinnimont.
PN: Have you lived here for your whole life?
AB: My whole life.
PN: When did you begin working yourself?
AB: When I was, I quit high school when I was 16 years old, and went to work for the C. and O. Railroad, 1926.
PN: I know you mentioned this before when we were talking. Could you just mention the different areas and towns that you 've worked in along the railroad?
AB: Oh yea, I worked for the Hinton division, from Hinton to Handley [in east central Kanawha County). That was our territory. See we was a division; I was division man, and like I before said, you take, you go up from Thurmond on down to Eagle, and Nuttall, Sewell, and Fayette all those places there by side Of the railroad. They all isolated; they, towns blowed out, people moved out. Just ghost towns. Same thing up Piney Branch, from McCreery to Raleigh. Some places, you see the old foundation of houses, and that's all People moved out.
PN: What were the different towns along Piney Branch, that used to be but aren t t there anymore?
AB: OK. There's Wright, Wright Two, Norval, Stonewall, Lanark, and Stanaford, and Piney Pokey. Coal mine at Piney Pokey.
PN: What then, the railroad went down around towards a…
AB: Raleigh.
PN: Where Raleigh is today, along Piney Creek there?
AB: Right.
PN: When you started working in 1926 along the tracks In those towns like Nuttall and Sewell, how were those towns then? Were they big and pretty active?
AB: Oh yea. Plenty people living there, and the people had nice yards, company store, and had theaters, everything. They also had a theater over here at Royal, and a store. That was a beautiful little town too. You know the bridge a' going towards Beckley? Beautiful place.
PN: Before you get to McCreery?
AB: Yea, that's right, down at the other end of the bridge.
PN: That's amazing, and there's almost nothing there now.
AB: Nothing.
PN: How many years did you work for the C. and O.?
AB: 42 continuous years. See, I started in 1926, worked till 1928, quit, went to Cincinnati. And the Hoover Depression started 1929, and I came back here in 31, and was re—hired back in 42. And I retired in 74, which gave me 42 continuous years. [He meant '32, not '42 when he was re—hired.]
PN: What did you do between 1931 and 42 when you were living here and you weren't working for the railroad?
AB: Well, just loafing around a little, living off of Mom and Dad. No work back in those times. Then, if you didn't have a job, there was no money, cause there wasn't no checks, no welfare. Well, I did work a little bit on this road out here [referring to Highway 41, which goes through Quinnimont]. It was N R.A. - It wasn't a W. P. A. — out on that rock five days a week for thirteen dollars and some cents a day. Not a day, a week.
PN: Thirteen dollars and some cents a week?
AB: Yea.
PN: For doing what?
AB: Putting this road through here. You got rock out of the woods, and they'd nap them up, make a base for the highway through here.
PN: What does "napping" mean, just crushing them?
AB: Yea, big hammers, breaking them up small. When we got a rock, probably as big as that [points to a fan about three—foot square], just keep on beating up small pieces, maybe like, that make a good base. Thirteen dollars a week.
PN: How were the mines right along New River doing in this period of time, when the Depression began?
AB: Wasn't doing nothing. Part of them was working, and part of them wasn't. And most of the mines then was just like they were in my department on the railroad - didn't have no union. The union was busted. But after 31, Roosevelt came in, they had a chance for all of them to organize and set up a union. And then things begin to pick up.
PN: Was that true, you said, for the railroads too?
AB: Yea.
PN: That the unions were pretty much hurt or destroyed during the twenties?
AB: That's right. Now your trainmen, conductors, but I was in the maintenance of way.
PN: And there was no union for those workers until after Roosevelt came?
AB: That's right. And on top of that I will speak the facts until I think it was 37, I ain't couldn't even belong to the union. They made it possible then, that is '37.
PN: I was going to ask you about that. They discriminated against you, in the membership?
AB: Yea, yea, that's right. They discriminated because it was, they had that in the, a long time, and I believe that it was when I was in the service during World War 11, I believe I seen it in the paper — I was in Florida that Roosevelt had got after them about 10t accepting Blacks in the union. And he was told that was the agreement between the union and the company. The union didn't want them in there. But afterwards, what the reason they accepted the thing is because we all was getting the same pay, and they figured we was just freeloading on them. And so they had to accept you to get your dues. That's the onliest way.
PN: It was 1937 you said that the Black workers along the C. and O. here
could finally be members of the union?
AB: Yea, that's right. They wanted to force in there then, make you pay.
[laughs]
PN: You said that you were working in the Hinton division of the C. and O.?
AB: Yea, between Hinton, well see, they have divisions. They have what they call certain territories cut up in divisions. From Hinton to Handley, that was our territory.
PN: Say, in that area, the people that were working on the maintenance of way, what percentage of them would you say were white, and what percentage were Black workers in this section?
AB: Well, when I first started in 1926, it was pretty rough. They, the percentage of the white was much lower than it was for the Black, because it was pretty rough. Most of the time, I worked, myself, in a gang, like extra force, and maybe you wouldn't see but three, four whites in the gang of maybe 35 or 40 men. We had a boss, assistant foreman, timekeeper, and a water boy. They the only four.
PN: What, and they'd be all white?
AB: All white, and the rest was all Black.
PN: All the people doing the actual work were Black?
AB: Yea. But in later years, they begun to kind of migrate in. Because it was pretty rough work. If you didn't work, you'd get crippled up. I was an overgrown boy. As soon as I got up there — “If you don't look, I'm going to throw a rail on you. I 'm going to do this.” I said, "Come on.” I was just overgrown for my size, you know. And I could just about match up to the rest of them. But in the later years, then they brought in the "Safety First.” So you didn't “I'll cripple you up”, they'd call you up for investigation. Proved I crippled you on purpose, they'd fire you. And then so many accidents, it proved you was unsafe, take you out of service.
PN: You mean if they, they would claim that you caused your own injury, and they'd get rid of you?
AB: Yea, if I caused it deliberately, you understand what I mean? They could say you was unsafe to work so many accidents.
PN: In some of the other unions — like for the conductors on the railroad, you know, and the clerks, and the signalman did they allow, or have Black people working in those positions?
AB: I was just a very small boy, and I remember on Loup Creek and Laurel Creek up here, they didn't have no air brakes. And it was all the stem brake. They'd probably leave up in Lay land and made it ten, fifteen cars, and the only braking power they had was on the engine. Well they had a head man, middle man, and a rear man — three brakemen — and the conductor, engineer, and the fireman. Well, when they come on a steep grade, that rear man, he'd work toward the front; head man, he'd work toward the rear and help the middle man tie up brakes to hold the train. Well, you was continuously tying up brakes and knocking them off, typing them up and knocking off and they were all Blacks that did that. And there was several was crippled and was killed, you know, by the track and they would get rocked off the top of the cars. Loup Creek was the same way. But in later years, they got air, and then they didn't have to do that. But most of those older guys then, why they was about, just about the same as were on the track — they wasn't too numerous — it was pretty treacherous work.
PN: So it was mostly Black workers?
AB: Yea. And in later years, they had air. So all they had to do set those retainers so they'd leave?
PN: What did you call them?
AB: Retainers.
PN: Retainers?
AB: Yea. Set those retainers about a forty, forty—five degrees. That helped checks the brake, you got an automatic brake, all the way down the hill. When you get on level, you can't pull it; you got to just stop and knock the retainers down. It releases that air.
PN: When you talked about the danger, people would fall off the top of cars. What, did they get caught between the cars sometimes, and couplings or anything?
AB: Oh yea, a lot of time, they'd do that too. But what I was speaking of, fall off, see, the cars were loaded, see, and here you're walking across here, and that car reeling and rocking and maybe it's doing ten, fifteen, twenty mile an hour you got to have pretty good balance, you know, and they'd fall off.
PN: Where were the brakes operated from, the top of the cars?
AB: Top of the car. Stem brakes, this way. In the later years, they did away with all those stem brakes. They had what you called "A—Jack”. You could stand on a stool and tighten them this way.
PN: A-Jack?
AB: A—Jacks, A—Jack brakes they 're more substantial than the old stem brakes.
PN: You know, when you see those wheels on the back of freight cars, were those where brakes were?
AB: The old one?
PN: Yea.
AB: You seen the one that stick up what they call the old stem brake. But now, the A—Jacks, you seldom see them unless you look In between the on the car [Indicating about two or three feet], about waist high. Very easy to handle.
PN: So you got to see most of the mining towns along the New River Gorge in the course of your work. Did you talk to coal miners much? Did you meet them often?
AB: Oh yea, oh yea. Yea, quite a few of them. I had a job, I mean, I did get a job down at Glen Rogers. Once I decided 1 'd quit the railroad — I wasn't getting but 40 cents an hour, $3.20 a day — go to work in the mine on a machine. And boy, I got on the job down there. And I got to thinking about it, I said: “It’s too dangerous; I’ll go back to the railroad." [laughs]
PN: How long did you work at Glen Rogers in the mine?
AB: I didn't work; I didn't go. No, I chickened out [laughs]. See, working on the machine, you know, is pretty dangerous. Sometimes the machine jumping back on you, you know, shovelling bug dust, you know. There it is, I don’t regret it. Always in for the money, but I just figured I, I did never work in the mines and none of my people. We was all railroaders, so I just pursued the old tradition.
PN: You said your father had worked some on the railroad?
AB: Yea, he was a cook. And as I before said, and after so many years, you see, they had moved him around on different parts of the division. He didn't want to go, so he just quit that and went to work at the hotel here. And my mother, she cooked up there.
PN: What was the name of the hotel?
AB: Quinnimont Hotel.
PN: And that's not standing at all now, is it?
AB: No, just an old foundation there. They also, see they had a saloon there, in the bottom of that hotel.
PN: They did?
AB: Yea. And see, on up until Prohibition time, the states went dry, see Raleigh County was dry and Fayette County was wet. And all the people in Raleigh County, they had to come to Fayette County here, from up around Raleigh and Beckley, to get their whiskey.
PN: When was this, in the thirties?
AB: No, it was on up until, I guess, before I was born on up until, I believe it was, I don't know when the state went dry, I don't know if it was '14 or '15, or! 13, somewhere along in there. It was in the teens, early teens.
PN: Did the saloon close down after Prohibition, or did they keep it open?
AB: Yea, yea. And it wasn't too long, I don't know, probably about a year after they closed it down, till the hotel burnt down.
PN: And the C. and O. never rebuilt the hotel?
AB: No, that belonged to the Quinnimont Coal Company
PN: But that was never built again?
AB: No , no.
PN: Were Quinnimont and Prince always mainly railroad towns, would you say?
AB: Yea. Of course in later years, they had a little saw mill in through here. I believe it was nineteen thirty, thirty—eight. M. E. Criss Lumber Company, they came in - started to cutting timbers up at the saw mill.
PN: Was it the M. E. Criss?
AB: M.E. Criss Lumber Company. In later years, they cut most of the timber, they sold it out.
PN: Let me ask you another general question. If you had to estimate, say from here on up through Sewell and Nuttall and Caperton that whole area — in all mining towns back, you know, In the twenties and the thirties, what percentage of the miners would you estimate would be Black, and what per cent would have been white back then?
AB: Well, to the best of my estimation, I think they was pretty well equalized. And too, back in those times, there was a lot of Italians. And they was your main miners too. Of course, you don't see too many of them around anymore, you know, but they, there was quite a few of them around.
PN: Were there people from Poland and Hungary and countries like that too?
AB: Yea, all classes.
PN: Do you think there was less discrimination in the coal mines than there was on the railroad?
AB: Yea, there was less in the mines, because see everybody, what they wanted, they wanted the coal. And they didn't care who got it. [laughs] They didn't care who got it. And it was hard work too; most of that was hand work.
PN: I was just going to ask you, what you thought was the reason that there may have been less discrimination in the coal mines than there was along the railroad.
AB: Well, you see, in the mines, see, a man had to go in there, and you had to drill, shoot, and hand—load that coal so much a car. There was no day wages. If you didn't load so much, you didn't make anything. And I heard a lot of guys say they was cheated out of half of that. If you made a shot that was all rock, you had to load that rock. You didn't get no pay for that. See they paid for the tonnage on your coal.
PN: But the easier jobs, say on the railroad, were generally the ones they'd reserve for whites only?
AB: Yea. Well, as it begin to get easier, they'd begin to come in, you know, more and more and more. Now if you watch your gangs along side of the railroad now, you may see one [Black worker]. And nine out of ten gangs, you see, you don't see any, anybody.
PN: So as the work became easier and they used less people, they began excluding Black people from the industry?
AB: No, they didn't exclude now, they didn't exclude. Now see, they hired you, but somehow, I don't know, this younger generation of Blacks, they didn't go.
PN: For railroads?
AB: No. Now you see we have in the last seven or eight years, they begin to hire more young Black brakemen. And they have one engineer, I know, at Hinton. See that came in this Fair Employment Practice. We had a boy her he was a white boy — and he used to come here all the time. He asked me, he tried to get a job on the track. He finished high school. I said, "Go up to the office; go up to the office." He said, “Go up there, can't get no job." So I knew the division engineer, he used to work up there one day, and I asked him, I said: "Sterling, say I got a nice boy finishing high school. “I'd like to get him a job." I said, “He's a white boy; he's a good boy." “That don't make no difference now," he said. “We can't hire him”, he said. “But I’ll tell you what you do. You tell him to go up to the Employment Office, put in an application. And when we need a man, we'll call the Employment Office. They'll send him to us, and that's when we hire him.” You see, since this Fair Employment Practice went into effect, you see that stopped it. It used to be, a lot of thses gangs, well up until 1937, like working track, if a foreman didn't like me, if he got mad at his wife or something, and I didn't look to suit him, he could just fire me, on the spot. And he come right along, he'd hire his cousin, or hire his son, hire his daddy, hire anybody. Well see, they stopped that. Everything went through the office. He couldn't hire, or neither fire. Stopped that. I know a lot of gangs, there wasn't nothing but just in—laws. [laughs] But the Lord blessed me, and I weathered the storm.
PN: Yea, what did you say that you did during the 44 years…
AB: Forty— two.
PN: The 42 years that you worked?
AB: Track maintenance, keep up the track. Laid rails.
PN: That was the whole time?
AB: Yea, absolutely. And the year, I figured in the spring of '74, the supervisor came to me one day, and said, "We're going to have to hire some colored foremens, mostly colored foremen." So he wanted to know if I'd be interested. "No sir, I wouldn't." I said: "Now if that was offered to me 10, 15, or 20 years ago, I would accept it. But I don't want the responsibility now. Cause I’m retiring this year." See, I was 64 years old then. It would have been something nice, you know, if I could have got it ten or 15 years [ago]. But see, that came under Fair Employment Practice, see; he had to hire on a percentage base, promote on a percentage base, see.
PN: Supervisors.
AB: Yea, foremens, things like that. There's been quite a many changes went on down through the course of time, than it was when I first started. But no resentment. If I didn't like it, I could have quit. But I enjoyed what I did. Yes sir.
PN: No matter where you were working, you always were based here in Quinnimont?
AB: No. Well sometime I, well see '62 to '63, I was cut off Hinton division; we had a seniority roster. And I didn't stand for nothing here. So they put on a tie—gang just put in ties Hinton division Clifton Forge division, And we worked over through Virginia, around Lynchburg, Charlottesville, and down the James River and there, putting in ties. We had camp cars. I'd leave there Sunday evening, we stayed in those camp cars until Friday afternoon when we come home, get a change of clothes, go back Sunday. Two years I experienced that.
PN: So you spent the weeks down in Virginia near the job, and come back here on the weekend?
AB: Yea, that's right.
PN: How did that affect you?
AB: Pretty rough, pretty rough. I was tempted two or three times to quit. My wife begged me to quit. "We'll make it. Come on home. I said: “No, got too much invested in there now to quit. But I weathered the storm. I had about two years of it, and finally got back to Mabscott where I retired. Spent the last ten years there.
PN: Working on track?
AB: Track.
PN: What types of equipment did you use when you were working on the track?
AB: Most of it, it was all — there wasn't no equipment [laughs] it was manual labor. Pick and a shovel, pick and a shovel, and a fork, different things. Of course, several other times, different times, you know, in laying rail, you know, you had regular edging machine.
PN: What?
AB: Edging machine. Like when the plate cut down in the tie, well they had, this edging machine come along and smooth that down, you know, to lay the plate on. Then you had your spiker, drill, other different equipment. But now, everything is did by machinery. You see all the men, he don't pick up a hammer, he don't pick up a pick, he don't have to do nothing. Everything is did by machinery now.
PN: Really, you mean laying ties now is not the manual labor that it was when you were working?
AB: No, no, no. Everybody getting machinery. And they're monthly men; they don't have this on day wages.
PN: So now you get a monthly salary, rather than by the day.
AB: Yea. Altogether different.
PN: Did you have to work at putting more stone, or making sure there was enough ballast?
AB: Yea, that's right, that's right. You see, you had what they called a tamping machine, they come along, he'd tamp, had a prong, get down on that tie like that. Well, after he hit it Wo or three times, well that rock, you used a fork probably, throw a little more ballast and tamp each side. Follow him along every day like that. That was in your servicing gang — "smooth— 'em —up" is what we called it, fixing up low joints.
PN: Fixing up low joints?
AB: Yea.
PN:That's what they called that?
AB: Yea. And swagging the track, joints, would swag mostly in the joints, you see. And then you jack it up, tamp those ties around — you called that "smoothing up”.
PN: That's so the joints were, the train wouldn't always bounce when it hit them?
AB: That's right, low places.
PN: It sounds like they probably maintained the tracks a lot better then than the railroads are able to do today.
AB: Oh yea, that's right. Because the men taking more pride in their work. And they did every job like they thought the railroad belongs to them. And they didn't want to be criticized about their work. So you didn't do this, you didn't do that. Everybody taken pride in their work. But now, you see, those machines go along and do that; they 're not perfect. The machines do no more than what you make it do. Like a computer; just like that. So your best track, maintaining them, was did by hand. I know once in surfacing track that was pulling It up, putting it under new ballast you go ahead and crimp up between each tie, all that old dirt, dirt and mud. Clean it out. Dump new ballast on, and then you pull it up and put it on clean ballast — good drainage. And if you got about 18 rails a day, that was supposed to be a good day's work. And now they '11 get a mile a day or better.
PN: Eight or ten rails a day…
AB: Eighteen rails.
PN: How long was each rail?
AB: Well, on the average, some would be 30 at the least. But the average rail now is 39 foot. And then, since then, you have what you call the "ribbon rail”. That was joint rail, 39 foot, standard.
PN: And you would do 18 of them, you said?
AB: Yea, yea. But now you have the ribbon rail; I guess they 're about pretty close to a quarter of a mile long, each strand of that rail.
PN: How do they lay that?
AB: Well, they have a machine, a string of flat cars, a strand of that rail on there just lying. They '11 have that machine, and they '11 pull that rail off on the middle of the road, else on the head of the ties, you understand?
PN: Yea.
AB: That's unloading it. And when they get ready to lay it, they'll go back, have a machine that set it right in place.
PN: Let me just ask you a few questions about Quinnimont when you lived here. You know, in the twenties when you began working, and the thirties, how many people would you say lived in Quinnimont?
AB: Oh, I guess we had 35 or 40 families here. See, we had two schools here, two junior high schools a school down at the corner here was the junior high school, and we had one about three—quarters of a mile up the road, right beside the highway, a junior high school.
PN: How many houses were there back then?
AB: Well, I 'd estimate probably roughly guessing, about 35 or 40. Had a company store. And there was one time that Armour's had a storage place here at Quinnimont too, a pop factory.
PN: What was that, Armour?
AB: Mm. Armour' s meat.
PN: I was going to ask you, did they can meats?
AB: No, they, it was shipped in here by carload, and they had a storage place
PN: And there was a pop factory too?
PN: And there was that hotel you said which was burred down in the teens?
AB: Right.
PN: Were there any churches?
AB: Oh yea. Two churches. A white church here, Baptist church; and a colored Baptist church.
PN: Both were Baptist?
AB: Yea.
PN: Were there any other buildings, like churches, schools, stores?
AB: Here?
PN: Yea.
AB: No. You see, after the store burnt down, well I believe it must have been '51 or '52, '53 whenever it was; but anyway, they never had another store here since. I don't remember the exact date.
PN: Before the road was built, the only way to get into town was along the C. and O.?
AB: C. and O., that's right.
PN: You said that you worked on building the road in the early 1930s?
AB: The highway, highway, that's right.
PN: How about before that, you mentioned earlier…
AB: See I was hired, I quit high school in 1926 and went to work. See, they had a flood on Laurel Creek — washed all the track out. I always wanted to be a man. And I shouldered a man's load when I was 16, and I had to carry it ever since. And that's when I got my first job on the railroad. I think it was November the 15th, 1926.
PN: That you started?
AB: Yea. And the last time I started was June the 29th, 1932. But 1 worked continuously on through after that.
PN: After June 29th, 1932?
AB: Yea. Had no other choice then.
PN: That was the railroad?
AB: Railroad.
PN: You got the job on the railroad in '32?
AB: That's right.
PN: You were here about a year, or something, between the time you came back from Cincinnati and the time you began to work again?
AB: That's right.
PN: You were mentioning something before about, before they had, you know, the highway, that they used ox, oxen to…
AB: No. This Mr. Prince, that's what he had. Well now, this monument down here, that was brought in here by a team of horses, down here, brought up in sections. [He is referring to the obelisk—type stone monument between the highway and New River which commemorates the shipping of the first ton of coal out of the gorge in 1873.]
PN: And you also mentioned there used to be an iron mine?
AB: That's right.
PN: Maybe you could say a few words about that.
AB: Well, I was asking several people about this iron—ore mines down here. And the mines, and that furnace was here before the railroad mainline system was through here. See at one time, see this road was built to Stone Cliff, and I think some of the contractors, they went broke. And then in later years, they extended it on through. And I asked them, I said, “Well, if the mines was here, ore mines, how did they get the ore out?" They said, "The ox carts.” I said, "No wonder they shut down." And I think they taken the old tram, had to go up Batoff, old tram over in there; and it taken them down to about Deepwater, down in there somewhere. And they loaded it on boats till they got it out.
PN: So they brought it over to the other side of the river and put it on the tram?
AB: Yea, that's right.
PN: Where was this iron—ore mine located?
AB: Up on the mountain at Quinnimont, about, oh about two miles up on the mountain here.
PN: Up toward Layland?
AB: No, it's called the, on the Backus side here.
PN: How come that shut down? There wasn't much ore there?
AB: Well, there's too much waste, See that whole bottom down in there, that's full of that old slag rock, where they refined it out, that iron out of there, you know. The bottom's full of that old rock down there. There's too much of a waste; it gets too expensive; then too much to get it out.
PN: So it was a low—quality ore? Not too much iron in it?
AB: Yea, right.
PN: That's interesting. Do you know of any other ore mines they used to have along the gorge?
AB: No, I don't know of anymore. But they used to have coke ovens here too, Quinnimont.
PN: Down this far too?
AB: Mm.
PN: Did they have any at Quinnimont?
AB: Yea, Quinnimont .
PN: They had coke ovens here?
AB: Mm. Some of the old ovens is still standing up the road here about smile, up the road here now, where they used to get coke. Old ovens.
PN: Back in the twenties and thirties, did many people raise gardens and have animals around here?
AB: Yea. Had cows, hogs, chickens. See, r raised hogs and chickens on up till vent in the service, Everybody came back, feed was so high, I wouldn't fool with any hogs, so I raised chickens till r moved up here.
PN: Why, it cost too much to buy the hogs?
AB: Yea, well the feed.
PN: The feed, yea.
AB: I went into the service in '43, you could get 100 pounds of feed for $1.25. Came out it was $5.00 something. Me and my wife, you could buy your meat cheaper.
PN: What was the main form of recreation or entertainment or social life back say when you were growing up in the twenties?
AB: Well, we didn't have any, anything in particular. I told a lot of boys, people asked me, they said, "You fish any?" I said, "Nope." And I got more beatings as a boy coming up by going in the river swimming. That's where stayed in the summer. And I never, I think I caught two fish out of the river In a lifetime, And then this time of year, we'd, boys would go back in the woods and hunt chestnuts, grapes, and get late apples, fall apples, things like that. Otherwise, no major recreation. Of course, we had a ball team. One time, they had enough white and colored boys, you know, around, about the same age, both had a team. We 'd all get together and play ball.
PN: Would you have to use the ferry to get across the river at that time, or was there a bridge?
AB: Well, everybody crossing then, you had to cross the railroad bridge.
PN: Oh, the one that's still up there?
AB: Yea, the old railroad bridge. See, there's two there now the high— way and the railroad. But the only means of transportation walking across that bridge.
PN: When was that bridge built, do you know?
AB: I, I don't, I didn't know, I don't know just, '95 or '95 that bridge was built. And see, before that bridge was built, see they had coke ovens on this side at Prince. In Royal, they had mines across the river; that was in Raleigh County. But they'd bucket that coal from Royal to Prince before that railroad bridge was built.
PN: Then they put in ovens over here?
AB: That's right.
PN: What's the main benefit that you think that the union would bring to railroad workers?
AB: Well, a lot of different benefits. Because when I first started — no vacation, no sick benefits, no nothing. Foreman didn't like you, he'd just fire you. Now, if the union, if you are fired; if the foreman want to fire you, he have to call for an investigation. Just the same as you going to court, and they'll decide who was wrong. And you have to do something pretty bad on the railroad to be fired. See, the reason I tell a lot of these young boys seeking jobs with the railroad. I say, “Now boys, let me tell you something, experience. Now they won't bother you too much about your work; after 90 days you qualify. But don't you steal from them; don't get fighting on the job; and don't be drunk on the job. Cause they'll fight you, they’ll fire you right now about those three things.” Nothing else will matter. But if you qualify, they 're nice people to work for — good company. No regrets. I had it tough to start with; but the last was nice.
PN: And the road hauled mainly coal, right?
AB: Coal and other freight. They have four, I guess two, three, I don't know now, just down to about four manifest trains nothing but merchandise, oil, and that's all boxcars.
PN: Manifests were fast freights?
AB: Yea. They just run on schedule. They was more accurate at one time than passenger trains were. These run on schedule.
PN: When you were working for the railroad, did you travel much around, just for yourself? Or were you working so hard you…
AB: Oh yea. Well, in the earlier years, I used to take vacation. I had a couple' of brothers in Cincinnati at the time; I'd go down and spend some time with them. And my first wife, she's deceased died in '67 she had a sister in Albany, and we'd go up and spend a week or ten days.
PN: In New York?
AB: In New York and back. Then come back, probably two or three days to rest up, and that was it. And always probably save me a week for around Christmas. Never was much of a travel ling man. Always at home.
PN: Did you enjoy living along the gorge for your whole life?
AB: Yes sir. I laugh and tell some of them, I say, “That's the Indian in me.” I say, “You take an Indian, and he always wants to be close to water.” [laughs] Sure, I do enjoy being here. My wife, let's see, I married the last time in '68 to my wife there, a girl I knew when she was just 14 years old. And after I lost my wife, and she'd lost her husband, through my brothers living in Cincinnati, we got in contact. And we were married in 68. But she's from Ohio; she don't like here, but I do.
PN: It's a lot different from Cincinnati.
AB: That's right. That's the way the ball bounce. But I think I could be happy anywhere, as long as I have a decent place to eat and sleep.
People easy to get along with, that's the main thing, you know that?
PN: Is there anything you think's important to add that you haven't mentioned already?
AB: Well, I wouldn't know of any, I don't believe. Course I'll think of a thousand different things after you're gone. Yea, my two brothers, they worked for the railroad in the earlier years. They worked at the roundhouse down here.
PN: Oh yea?
AB: Quinnimont used to have a roundhouse here. See up until 1920, '21, all these crews would call out of Quinnimont to service the mines up Raleigh County — go up take empties and bring loads back. But there was a little confusion, I think around about 20, '21 about some property down here. Well, the C. and O. moved all the roundhouse, shops to Raleigh. Well, that's what killed this place. There was plenty of people here — all railroaders. And my brothers, they worked at the shop, maintaining the engines, you know, when they weren't on the road. But they both left here early. One went, well they both went to Pittsburgh to start with, and they both later settled in Cincinnati.
PN: When did they leave for Pittsburgh?
AB: About 20, '20 or ' 21.
PN: Did they work in the mines up there or the steel mills?
AB: No.
PN: The railroad?
AB: I don't know what kind of work, I know too — they worked construction work in Pittsburgh. And then in later years, they settled in Cincinnati; that's before I went there in '28.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Burgess, Virgil 1983 Part 1
PN: Mr. Burgess, maybe we can start off if you'll just give us your full name and your address, your age, when you were born, and where you were born.
VB: My name is Virgil Burgess. I was born on Pea Ridge, near Oak Hill here, in 1914. I'm sixty—seven years old.
PN: And you know a great deal about Kaymoor apparently. Could you mention when you first moved to Kaymoor or first became associated with Kaymoor?
VB: My first association with Kaymoor was around February 1, 1937. I started working with the Engineering Department in Minden. And the New River Pocahontas Consolidated Coal Company operated Minden, Kaymoor, Layland and Leslie. And, as such, we did all the engineering work at Kaymoor. That's about the time I started going there and became acquainted with the mines and the men in the mines.
PN: OK. Between 1914 and 1937, you were going to school.
VB: Went here in Oak Hill.
PN: And when did you graduate from high school?
VB: 1933.
PN: And, what did you do between 1933 and...?
VB: Well, I was in the CCC Camp and I started in the mines in 1936, right here at Minden helpin' on the main line track. And in 1937, I changed positions with the same company and went to work with the Engineering Department.
PN: Where did you work in the CCC Camp? In the New River at all?
VB: I was in London, KY and also at Elkins, WV.
PN: You were talking to us a little bit before about kind of the history of the Berwin and the Berwin—White Company. Perhaps you could mention that again on the tape.
VB: Berwin—White was the parent company. They had various holdings, primarily coal. But they 've been in shipping and insurances and airlines and one thing and another. But Berwin—White, which has now been changed it's the Berwin Corporation, their main office is now in Philadelphia, PA. And they have holdings in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia and Kentucky, primarily in coal lands. In 1910, the Berwin—White Coal Mine Company was the third largest coal producing company in the world. Since that time, why, they did go out of the coal operating business and went primarily into the leasing end of it. We lease our coal lands to other companies to operate.
PN: How would you describe their relation to Kaymoor? Were they the operating company?
VB: New River and Pocahontas was one of the companies, one of the many companies, of the Berwin Corporation. And, New River and Pocahontas operated Kaymoor.
PN: Did they operate Kaymoor until it closed down?
VB: Right near the end, when the production was small, New River and Pocahontas ceased to operate and we leased it to the Barbara Gale Coal Company. They were a local concern here; about five different people made up the Barbara Gale Coal Company and they completed the work at Kaymoor.
PN: Maybe you could spell that last coal company, Barbara Gale?
VB: Barbara Gale, B—a—r—b—a—r—a G-a-l-e. And the, ah, Robie Smith, he is deceased now. He was the main man in the Barbara Gale Coal Company. Tom Miles, an attorney from Fayetteville, was interested a part owner of that Barbara Gale Coal Company, also. There were others I don't remember.
PN: I was wondering if maybe you could also give us a description of the job that you did for them beginning in 1937 and, you know, right until the present.
VB: 1937 I was a rodman with the Engineering Department. And, as such, we did all the underground surveying and some surveying on the surface. And we had to measure up all the mines and we would go into Kaymoor regularly when they needed engineering work. And make a complete survey of the whole mine; bring it up to date at the end of each quarter; and bring our maps up to date and just do general survey work that had to be done.
PN: Would it be accurate to say that in some way you supervised the whole process of the mining...
VB: No, I wouldn't be. I didn't supervise. I was a rodman. We had a rodman, who was about the lowest man on the totem pole. And I advanced from rodman to transitman and then from transitman you go on up the chief and usually was in the office. The Chief at that time was Mr. F. A. Guffey, deceased; and later it was Mr. J. W. "Jack" Jarrell, and he is deceased. And we did.. . had a crew and they did all the work for these four mines in our. . . this area.
PN: Maybe you could mention each of those four.
VB: Minden, Kaymoor, Layland and Leslie. Leslie is up in Greenbrier County.
PN: Was there a Kaymoor No. 1 and a Kaymoor No. 2 mine.
VB: Yes, there was. Kaymoor No. I and Kaymoor No. 2. No. 2 Mine was located directly behind the thrust block of the big bridge right now. That was where the opening was. And, one of the unique things that we found out about the No. 2 Mine, Kaymoor No. 2 was ventilated by a furnace. Just inside the driftmouth and off to the right, they had developed a little area there and the chimney like comes up into the hard surface now. It's been bridged over, but if you were to go down through that blacktop surface of the present road, there would be the chimney of that furnace that ventilated Kaymoor No. 2 when they first opened up.
PN: How did that function? By generating hot air?
VB: Poorly. It wasn't a very satisfactory. You can go back into the annals of coal mining, you'll find that ventilating by furnace was just a hit and miss proposition. The outside temperature and all controlled a lot of it, and the barometric pressure had a lot to do with it. And ventilating by that method was a. . . was a poor system.
PN: Was that the system they were using when you started working there?
VB: No. At the time I Started working, they had modern ventilating system and fans and everything. That was a . . we found out, one day we was just back in there and found this old furnace. And that was how the original No. 2 Mine was ventilated.
PN: Do you have any idea of what year that. . . what years that that system…?
VB: I wouldn't have any idea. Wouldn't have any idea. But, ah. Berwin— White Coal Company bought the Kaymoor; would be March 1, 1925. That ' s when the deal was consumated. And, it was over a luncheon, I understand . And the amount of money was transpired was considered kind of to be top secret. And, so I don't know what. I don't have that information. But at the time, the person representing the Lowmoor was Mr. Percy Holton. And, then the Berwin people, I don't know who they were. They went to luncheon. Mr. Holton was also a large stockholder in another operation along the river, the Ephram Creek Coal Company at Firecreek. And Berwin later bought that property for a million dollars.
PN: Ephram Creek?
VB: Ephram Creek, yeah. They paid one million dollars for that property. But, what the Kaymoor property was, I don't know. But, at that time they were operatin' No. 1 and No. 2. And it was known as Kaymoor at that time. Also, at the bottom of the hill they also produced coke at Kaymoor No. I. And I would assume that the coke was shipped from there to Lowmoor, Virginia where they had their iron foundry out there.
PN: After the Berwins purchased Kaymoor, did they still send the coke down to Lowmoor?
VB: I couldn't tell you. I don't know.
PN: You saw the coke ovens operating, right?
VB: Ah... no. The last coke that was made was in 1933. They'd already ceased that whenever I started working there.
PN: What did the coke ovens look like, physically, when you began working there?
VB: You could see evidence of them. They were what they called the beehive coke ovens. And, they were later covered over by refuse that came out of the tipple. Gradually covered over down there. But they were what we called the beehive coke ovens .
PN: In 1937, when you began, you could still see the ovens, though, to some extent?
VB : Yeah . But they're covered over now. But they were. . . you know, the refuse kept building up. Why, it kept covering up those coke ovens.
PN: What was the reason they stopped manufacturing coke? Was it economic, or
VB: I couldn't tell you. I don't know what the problem was. You might say also, when the company. . . when Berwin bought the One and Two, Kaymoor No. 1 and No. 2, we had a supervisor that had great thoughts and great ideas for the No. 2 mine. And he built a large coal bin just outside the mine there, the No. 2 on the Fayette Mountain, with thought in mind of selling coal locally in Fayetteville and surrounding areas. Well, after the. . . after about a year, that venture panned out poorly, so they shut down the No. 2 Mine at that time. And it didn't operate any more from that opening. It operated after the No. 1 and 2 cut together, No. 1 Mine cut into No. 2 and all the coal was taken out through the No. 2 Mine from there. That happened, oh, in the late Forties, when they cut into that mines. And No. 2 Mines was all hauled back through the No. 1 Mines.
PN: Maybe. . . the question we were talking about before, could you give us a description if you were facing Kaymoor, say from the opposite side of the river, what would you see when you looked across the river at the town, or the mine?
VB: If I were standing on the mountain or out in space on the opposite side of the river and looking at the Kaymoor side, the first thing that would come to mind would be the long incline, roughly 2200 feet long, extending from the top of the hill all the way to the bottom. And at the top of the hill, left of that, I would see a large, fairly large, brick building that housed the hoist equipment; and coming on down the hill, there at the middle of the hill was the coal seam. Around to the left, I would see a small powder magazine. And out from that to the left, I would see the building that housed the shop. At the coal elevation, to the right, I would see a structure there called the blacksmith Shop; then out from that was what we called a car shop; and above the car shop was the lamp house and the mine superintendent and the mine foreman office. To the right of that then would be the head house, where the coal came out of the driftmouth, and directly across the scales; from the scales it was dumped into a bin. Right directly below that headhouse, I would see monitor tracks, where the coal was transported roughly eight hundred feet. From there, down to another bin where it went from belt, from the bottom of that bin into the tipple. And, coming on down that long incline, I would call the man— way and supply line, 2200 feet long, coming down the hill to the bottom. To the left of that, I would see a large rock structure, still standing, that housed the generating plant, where we used to generate our own electricity. Lowmoor did that; they made their own electricity when they begin that operation. And then just to the right of this hoist/ man—way, you would see the cleaning plant. That still stands.
PN: Most of the structures that you were mentioning that were directly related to the mine were located in the middle level of the mountain, right?
VB: Right. Now, originally when the hoist house on the 2200 foot man—way and supply line, the old foundation was directly above the outcropping of that cliff that goes around the mountain. And, at the time Berwin—White bought the operation, the hoist was there with the cable extending across the top of the hill over to the - and back down to the drum. They had already constructed the building at the top of the hill, this brick building had already been constructed but they hadn't figured out a way to get the cable over the back into the building into the building around the drum. So, Mr. Deroshe, E. M. Deroshe, he was the engineer for Lowmoor, and came on board with Berwin—White. He and John Gilbert made a scale model of how to angle the large- on the back side of this mountain, to angle it and bring the bottom strand into the hoist house and around the drum. They made a scale model saw that it would work and that was how it was constructed. The old wheel is on the drum over there yet, on the - over there yet. Show you how... as the cable comes up the hill, it went past over a series of rollers and through to keep down the friction and passed under the highway on across this big wheel at an angle back into the head house. And they made that scale model and worked it out that way.
PN: Then they actually did it?
VB: Put it into operation. But Lowmoor had never figured that out. And they figured that out and brought it into the head house and it takes. . . we would buy 2500 feet of cable, that would give you 2200 foot, plus you 're going over the hill around the wheel back into the head house and eight laps around the drum. They had to buy 1 5/8 inch cable.
PN: What was the year that they did that?
VB: 1926. ' 26.
PN: You mentioned before that they put a lot of the mine refuse on top of the coke ovens and also that they hauled some to the top of the hill?
VB: Yes, they did. As the coal came out of the main drift, as the coal cars came out, what we call refuse cars or slate cars was separated from the coal cars. As I look. . . if I was standing out in space across the river from Kaymoor, those coal cars would separate out of the trip and would go around the mountain to the right. And there they would be coupled onto by another cable and go up the mountain and through a tunnel in this rock seam up there, into another bin where they were... the present refuse pile is now standing. They are reclaiming some of the refuse now. But there was a hole drilled up through the cliff there and into a bin where that refuse went there.
PN: Did they also deposit some at the bottom of the mountain, or was that earlier?
VB: Just what came out of the coal. Just what was cleaned out of the coal that went down over the hill was deposited down there over top of those coke ovens. That was all. None of that was brought back to the top of the hill. There was no way that could be done.
PN: They used a dumping refuse both at the top and the bottom at the same time?
VB: At the bottom and the top of it, that's right. Coal cars coming out, you could see that were strictly slate cars or refuse cars, were dumped at the top of the hill. And the refuse that was cleaned out of the coal as it went through the cleaning plant was deposited down at the bottom of the hill.
PN: And that cleaning plant was located where the present tipple still stands?
VB: It's the present tipple now. That was built... the present tipple was built in 1927 by the Linkbuilt Company. I believe Linkbuilt is stationed in and probably still operatin' in Pittsburgh. And the installation at that time was called the Simon—carves cleaning where they used water for the washing and cleaning of the coal. And that was done in 1927.
PN: Did they add some materials to the water to give it a higher specific gravity or something to float the slate off?
VB: At that time they didn’t. They just used strictly water. But later on, I think they probably added magnetite or something like that to the water. But at that time, that was just strictly a water cleaning plant.
PN: How did they get the slate or the coal to float off? Did they spin it?
VB: Why, they had a series of agitators and that kept the coal in suspension; and the coal would come out the top and the slate come out a little conveyor at the bottom. That was specific gravity what separated your coal from the slate.
PN: Could you describe maybe for someone who doesn't know how this functions, about how that would work?
VB: Yes, a little bit. Specific gravity a rock is about 140 pounds per cubic foot; specific gravity of coal is roughly 80 pounds, it varies a little bit with the coal bed, coal seam. But the Sewell seam was roughly 80 pounds per cubic foot. And, by putting coal and rock in this one big bin together and keeping that water in motion all the time, your rock would tend to settle to the bottom and the coal would float out the top. And that's the simplest means of cleaning there is.
PN: How was the coal taken off of the top?
VB: There was another conveyor line there. This, ah. . . would go out a conveyor line. When the coal would float up to a point, it would get on this conveyor line and bring it right on out of there. A chain conveyor would just bring it right on out and it would go through a series of screens from then and separated according to size.
PN: Now, would that conveyor actually be under water itself?
VB: The first part of it, yes. First part of it would be. It would come out of the water and then your coal would go over the series of screens and your fines would come out in one area, and then your lumps would be... go on, and the far end would be your big lumps.
PN: At the bottom, when the slate was being taken out, how would that work?
VB: It went into another bin; a bin by itself, and came out at the bottom. Why, we had a man with a mule and a cart, Mr. Wallace, and he was the man that would take that refuse out from the bottom of the tipple and from there he would deposit it down on the refuse pile that eventually covered up all the coke ovens.
PN: How did they get the refuse out of the water at the bottom?
VB: By this chain conveyor. You see, in that large bin where you put your coal in, you have this series of two conveyors; one to bring out the coal and one to bring out the refuse. The coal. . . one that brought the refuse was in the lower elevation because it would take the rock out of the bottom.
PN: Did they seal it off from the water in some fashion?
VB: No, it just run in the channel, right down to that... went through a channel down in the. . . built in the bottom of that bin. And it had to stay in that thing and the rock would settle down and that thing would just come right on through and up and bring it right on out.
PN: When you said there were different sizes of coal, how did you market the different sizes? Where did you sell the different sizes of coal to?
VB: Well, various places. The coal came out and was screened. We had tracks down there where slack coal, lump coal and large lumps. . . and, our primary outlet for coal going East was the Cabell Coal Company in Covington, VA. And they handled all the coal going in that direction from Kaymoor. And they had customers. . . our biggest customer at that time was the Western Virginia Pulp and Paper Company at Covington. And they were the biggest customer that we had in that direction. And, they had special orders for large lump coal. At that time, house coal was a great thing and they had large lumps for your house coal orders. And then you had your smaller size for house coal, run three and a half to four inches. But your larger lumps run from five to six inches on up. But after you went through that washing plant down there, you had maybe a car. a car a week, of large sized lumps. Kaymoor coal was a very hard coal. That is, it was compressed and it came out very nicely where. . . for that kind of a market.
PN: Where did you sell the slack to?
VB: Most of it went to the Western Virginia Pulp and Paper. I think that's the proper name for the paper company over in Covington.
PN: When. . . whenlet's clarify one little thing here. When you were talking about selling the coal, what year were you talking about?
VB: You mean Cabell Coal Company, selling the coal?
PN: Yeah. When we were talking about 1937 and the Forties.
VB: Cabell Coal Company handled the coal from the time the Berwin took it over up to the mid—Fifties.
PN: I see. Were they a kind of a coal sales corporation?
VB: They were a sales company.
PN: So, Berwin operated the mine and the coal sales corporation handled the marketing.
VB: That's right. They handled the marketing end of it.
PN: And then they would determine what would go to the Western Virginia Pulp and Paper, and sell to homes or whatever?
VB: That's right; that's right.
PN: When did the mine finally close down?
VB: I believe. . . I'd have to go back in my records to find out, but I believe it was about 1962.
PN: I was wondering if you could trace from 1937, when you began becoming familiar with the mine, until 1962, what types of machinery they used in the Kaymoor Mine.
VB: When I started in 37, motors and cars and hand—loading was the main method of mining coal. Along in the late Forties, we went to a duck bill. That was a conveyor line with a thing on the end of it duckin' down to the coal where it went from the face directly onto this conveyor line into the mine car. And the only shoveling that the man at the face had to do was clean—up along the sides. That was not too satisfactory even though we used it quite a bit. It was low coal mining and that was about the only operation of that type that we did. Rest of it was all hand loaded in the Kaymoor mines. I don't know how many men we used at one time, but I'd say in the Thirties probably twelve hundred men worked at Kaymoor at one time.
PN: That was No. 1 and No. 2?
VB: No. 1, because at that time it was all No. 1. You see, No. 2 shut down in '27. I might add, also, that since we did operate, New River and Pocahontas operated Minden and Kaymoor both, water was a problem in our Minden Mine and we. . . one of the chief engineers conceived the idea of cuttin' the two mines together. They were joining properties and cut the two mines together and use Kaymoor as a drainage way. That way, after the water built up to a certain point, it would drain out through Kaymoor and no pumping was necessary. I forget what year it was now, but I believe it was in ' 42 that the two cut together. And I was the first person that went through the hole from Minden into Kaymoor. That was on Saturday morning and we went in and the mines had cut together underneath the coal, machine men had cut the mines together, and we went in and drilled holes on Saturday morning and shot the coal down and hand loaded it back out of the way until we could get through and tie our survey lines together. And I was the first man through the hole from Minden into Kaymoor. And the elevations, coal seam here at Minden runs 1580 and the elevation on the point of the hill around from the big bridge is 1215. So you can see that the drainage was in that direction. And it was a real effective way of draining the water from the Minden Mine out that way.
PN: Did it drain out a driftmouth or just sink into the earth?
VB: We had a regular drainway. We drove what we called a drainway to the outside and it went out into the Wolfe Creek area.
PN: You were talking about these duckbills. Were they an undercutting machine mainly, to undercut the face?
VB: No, the machine.. . the coal was cut by regular machine. And they would go across and undercut the coal and this duckbill would just fasten on to the end of the conveyor line and went with a thrust, back and forth with a thrust. As you would. . . the coal would pile up on this blade at the face, it would just. . . the thrust of that machine would bring it right back on the conveyor and from there back onto the mine car.
PN: Did you ever have continuous miners there?
VB: Not in Kaymoor, no.
PN: So, they were still using duckbills in 1962 when they shut down?
VB: No. Barbara Gale Coal Company just used hand loading.
PN: Until '62?
VB: That's right. We only had the one unit, as I recall. . . we only had the one unit of duckbills. And after they seized using that, it was all hand loaded until they finished up.
PN: What was the reason they only had one section, or one unit of duckbills?
VB: I couldn't tell you. I don't know what was their reasoning, but we only had the one unit there.
PN: Do you have any explanation for why, while many mines started using con— tinuous miners in the very late Forties or the early Fifties, that these mines never introduced them?
VB: I hate to say this, at the time when everybody else was getting mechanized
[END OF SIDE ONE]
Oral History Project - Burgess, Virgil 1983 Part 2
VB: As we were saying, why we didn't go into more mechanical mining, I'm not going to call names, but at the time the general manager of our company, his thoughts were that mechanical mining was a passing fancy and there would always be handloading. And so, he never did go for mechanical mining and, at the time, we got so far behind, our company did... we got so far behind that we would have had to spend millions of dollars to catch up buying equipment. They decided at the time it was best to shut down all their operations and lease them out to somebody else to operate. That was the reason that the company went from an operating to a leasing company. This was all around 1955. 1955 and 1956 when they did that. But, that was primarily the reason, because they didn't want to spend the money it would have taken to check up.
PN: So this is true for all the Berwin Mines?
VB: Berwin Mines in West Virginia.
PN: Would the same be true in Virginia and Kentucky as well?
VB: We had. . . don't operate. . . didn't at that time anything in Kentucky. We operated in McDowell County and this area here in West Virginia.
PN: I want to pursue this a little bit more but maybe we can go to this other. . . get back to this drainage question.
VB: There’s. . . talking about the water drainage in Wolfe Creek, we also had another large ditch. At one place in the mines, that ditch was eleven feet deep, that was made for drainage. It came out in what was called Butcher's Branch. We also had a large fan installation there that ventilated the mine, and also a substation for generating power. That was called Butcher's Branch and that was over the mountain just directly below the large refuse pile that's on top of the hill now. There's millions and millions of gallons of water that I hope can be used sometime to alleviate the situation on top of the mountain now for even Fayetteville or Oak Hill or somebody. For it's just the finest of water, with a very minimum of treatment, it can be used and made the finest of city water.
PN: And that's just sitting there?
VB: Going to waste, going over the mountain and flowing into New River. We have that source of water there plus the one on around at Wolfe Creek and I'm always contending that, if those areas of water could be channeled together and possiblly treated down there, then the water pumped back to the top of the mountain, it would be used for this whole plateau area. Millions of gallons of water. At one time we had an area where water went through underneath the main line track, Kaymoor No. 2, and we did a survey there one time and we estimated eighteen million gallons of water in a twenty—four hour period was going out that way. And that's a lot of water.
PN: You don’t pursue this any more? By the time you started working, people obviously were already living in Kaymoor. Do you have any thoughts as to where most of the miners were recruited from that worked there? And after '37, were they drawing white miners, black miners or ethnic background miners from anywhere?
VB: Kaymoor was a mixture. They had white, black, some foreign and all, but there was no particular area where they were drawing from. People that lived down there liked it. They had the store and had the office and the Post Office, and a school. And the ones that got down there liked to socialize among themselves. They liked living down there. But, as far as... there was never any roads between houses. Houses were just set on hit and miss areas and a path from house to house. That was one of the things that always intrigued me was, when you moved into Kaymoor from the top of the hill, you would bring your furniture over and they had a little platform there at the top of the hill and you would deposit your furniture. And at the. . . sometime when the incline wasn't being used for men or supplies, you loaded your furniture on, take it down to the bottom of the hill and we had a little room down there; it did have a roof over it. And you would deposit your furniture there. And then at some time when they had a little truck that worked on the railroad down there, a little hand operated. . . pushed it by manpower. . . you loaded your furniture onto that little old handcar and take it to the nearest point to the house you were moving in to. And from there you carried it. And that was the only means they had of gettin' in and out of that place. I might mention to, that I forgot about the incliner the two operators. . . they were there when Berwin— White bought the operation, Mike Passion, his widow still lives at Gar ten; and a Mr. Plott. I've forgotten what Mr. Plott's first name was, but I remember him. They were there for many, many years. And Mike Passion, I guess he operated it up until about '56, when he ceased working there. He retired.
PN: There was a community also at the top of the mountain, wasn't there?
VB: Yes, there was. There was a real nice community there and it's all torn down now except for one house. All the rest of them are torn down. The company.. . we sold the houses along in the early Fifties, or '54, we sold the houses to individuals and they were torn down and moved away. We never did sell the surface, just sold the houses as they were and you tore them down and moved them whatever you wanted to do.
PN: When you came there in 1937, about how many homes were there on the top and the bottom of the mountain?
VB: At the bottom of the hill, I 'd say roughly 85 or 90 homes. At the top of the hill, in that camp there near the headhouse, probably thirty were there.
PN: Were all the other types of buildings, the Post Office and Company Store, they were all located at the bottom?
VB: At the bottom of the hill, that's right.
PN: Were there any other types of buildings at the top other than the houses?
VB: At one time we had the office up there. We moved the office from the bottom to the top of the hill. But that wasn't for very long.
PN: Then it was back down at the bottom?
VB: It was back down at the bottom.
PN: If it's not too difficult, could you give us an exact list of all the types of buildings at the bottom of the hill, other than the 85 to 90 houses?
VB: You had a store and Post Office, and a schoolhouse, and all . That was about the sum total besides the homes that were down there.
PN: Were there any churches?
VB: I don't recall a church being down there.
PN: In. . . were there any differences between the people like the types of job they had, black/white differences as to who would live at the top?
VB: No. It didn't make any difference. They could be a machine operator or a coal loader or a track man. It didn't make any difference. They didn't separate them in any way. When a house became available, if you were in line for it, why you got the house.
PN: We were talking before about the machinery in mines, you said they used motors to haul the coal?
VB: Yes, sir. That's right. They had the Goodman, Jeffrey and Westinghouse motors. The smaller motors, usually a six—ton motor, was used for what we call a gather in' motors. They worked into the faces and placed the empty car to be loaded and pulled the loaded cars off. And your main line motors were same type except larger. They were usually twelve or thirteen ton motors. They would haul, oh, twenty—eight or thirty cars on a trip with a main—line motor, where your smaller motor couldn't handle but just three or four cars.
PN: How many tons were in each of those cars?
VB: Thre — three and a half ton.
PN: Did they use mules or ponies at all inside the mine.
VB: I don't recall. If they did, it was long before my time. Now they did have. . . Lowmoor Iron Company had a prospect mine. It would be between the big bridge now and Wolfe Creek, called Pine Top. And they had a prospect mine went in there about six hundred feet and used mules. Because I have seen the tracks in there. I take that back… also in No. 2 Mine, they used mules in there, because I have seen the pieces of harness and things in there. So I know they used mules or ponies one in there.
PN: When you said prospect mine, that was just kind of...?
VB: I don't know what the idea was, but they went back about six hundred feet and all, but they used animals in there for haulage. Same as in No. 2, because I 've seen many times pieces of harness and footprints of the mules or the animals or ponies, whatever they used, in the mud there.
PN: Was that a mine they were thinking of developing but decided not to?
VB: Evidently that's right. That's what I would think. It was called Pine Top.
PN: Could you give any estimate as to the percentage of foreign born and black and native born white workers at the mine when you were there?
VB: It would just be purely a guess on my part, but I would say black people were thirty percent, and as far as the other races, it would be mostly white Americans. Not too many of the foreign element.
PN: There weren't that many Hungarians or Czechoslovakians or Poles or…?
VB: No. Not as many as Minden did. Now Minden had quite a few Hungarians and all. But for some reason, Kaymoor didn't have too many over there.
PN: Did they have any kind of fraternal orders or clubs that you knew, like the Masons or anything like that?
VB: No. I know they didn't have that over there.
PN: Did people from Kaymoor often travel, say, down to Thurmond? Where would they go if they...?
VB: If they lived at the bottom of the hill, there was what we called a ' local ' used to run all the time up and down the river. And all of those coal camps, if you lived along the river at the bottom of the hill, you did most of your traveling by local train. It run every day and they could go to Thurmond or you could go to Charleston. And that's the way most of them down there, if they wanted to go anyplace, did that. Otherwise, you would have to depend on the truck coming to the top of the hill and go from there into Fayetteville.
PN: So people would be more likely to go to Thurmond or Charleston than they would to Fayetteville area?
VB: If you lived at the bottom of the hill, to do shopping, major shopping, yes. Because, it was almost as hard at that time to get from the top of the hill into Fayetteville as it was to take a local and go to Charleston.
PN: What did people do in their spare time for recreation then, would you say?
VB: Kaymoor was noted for its baseball, quite a bit. And at the top of the hill, we had two baseball fields up there and on weekends, in the summer time especially, baseball was a great thing.
PN: Did they play in the Fayette County League?
VB: I believe they did. They played Kingston and different places around, Scarbro, Glen Jean. They played... must have been a league of some sort because that was one of the major things back in the late Twenties and early Thirties was baseball.
PN: Some people said that in some of the towns that were concentrated in the bottom of the Gorge that there just wasn't enough flat land to have a baseball field. Do you know anything about the other
VB: That was true as far as Kaymoor is concerned. And Elver ton was concerned.. That's about right there, too.
PN: Because part of the town was at the top, that's why they could do this then?
VB: That's right.
PN: Did miners, or people who worked in Kaymoor, did they go down to Thurmond to go to some of the saloons, or gamble or anything like that?
VB: Well, back in my day, in 37, there wasn't any saloons. But, it would suppose that they would have in earlier days. They would catch the local and that's where they would go. I 've heard a lot of stories right along that line, but I can't verify it; except what I've heard. But, naturally, they would go up or down, one of the other; which ever way they wanted to go.
PN: Did people make moonshine or sell that or other types of wine or homebrew?
VB: I couldn't verify that. I don't know. I couldn't say.
PN: There were no churches in Kaymoor . Did people travel to nearby towns to go to churches.
VB: There was a church on top of the hill at Garten, and, I suppose, if you wanted to come up on Sundays, you could come up on church there. But, still, when you got to the top had a mile and a half to walk. If you didn't have hill, you had a mile and a half to walk. That was Sundays and go to of the hill, you still a car at the top of the the nearest church.
PN: You say the mine finally shut down in 1962. Was there some point at which you would say the town started growing smaller, as people began being laid.. . you know, they began being laid off?
VB: About '56 is when they started; '54 and 56. That's when we began to sell the houses to be torn down and moved off. And that's when the camps begin to disappear. Along about, oh, 58, by that time, everybody had moved out of the bottom at Kaymoor. And, I remember, it was one fall. real dry. Meantime, every year, that vegetation would grow up amoung the houses and all and one fall there was a large fire got out down there and it went from house to house. We had fifty—four houses to burn down there at one time.
PN: That was in the late Fifties?
VB: Late Fifties, yes. Fifty—four houses at one time burned up down there.
PN: Were people living in all those homes then?
VB: No. They were all empty, you see. And all the vegetation had been allowed to grown up and it was dry and it just moved from one place to another and it burned down fifty—four houses. There's a few of them evidently still standing down there. Not very many.
PN: But there are some people still living down there?
VB: No, not now.
PN: No, then in 58, when this fire took place?
VB: No, they'd all been moved out. by the time this big fire we had, the people down there had been moved out.
PN: Was anybody living at the top of the hill then?
VB: Oh, yes. At the top of the hill.
PN: Where did most of the people go after they left Kaymoor?
VB: I have no idea. A lot of them retired, was ready to retire and where they went, I have no idea.
PN: Could that mine at Kaymoor have been worked after 62? Was there still much coal left in there.
VB: No. Barbara Gale Coal Company pulled it out pretty close to the drift— mouth. They didn't pull. . . they didn't pull completely all the coal because they had to leave so much there to keep the... turn those rocks along the mountainside loose. And they left enough to support that. But, for all practical purposes, all the coal was. . . that was minable was taken out of there.
PN: Maybe it's impossible to answer. I was just interested in pursuing a little bit about the things you were mentioning about technology. What. . . do you know what the thinking was based on that hand loading would be a more permanent form and mechanization was only passing?
VB: Passing fancy? No, I don't know what his thoughts were (laughter) . I don't think anybody knew what his thoughts were. They were just his ideas. That mechanical mining was a passing fancy and there would always be handloading. Well, today, when you go into a coal mine, a shovel is a hard item to find (laughter) .
PN: Did you live in Kaymoor yourself?
VB: I never did. I was born on Pea Ridge and I'm still livin' there.
PN: So you were there the whole time you worked for. . . ?
VB: That's right.
PN: When. . . back in the late Thirties and early Forties when you worked at Kaymoor, did many people have gardens or use the river to fish?
VB: A lot of fishin' was done in the river even those living on top of the hill done a lot of fishin' in the river. Yes, most nearly all of them had some type of garden. Especially, the ones on the top of the hill. They had nice garden plots. And a garden plot down on the bottom was a hard item to come by. Most of the gardening was done by the homes up on top of the hill, people that lived up there.
PN: Did many people raise animals of any kind?
VB: Ah, cows. Milk cows. Back in the late Twenties and early Thirties , nearly every body had a milk cow and a few chickens. That was about the extent of it. Maybe you might find a pony for a child once in a while, but most of them was chickens and a milk cow.
PN: That was mainly on the top rather than the bottom then?
VB: Well, yes. Mainly on the top. Now, down at the bottom of the hill, I had one colored friend. He specialized in hogs. And, ah, his name was S. E. Chambers and he liked to raise his hogs and once in a while he liked to bring an old long nosed hog up the incline in a cage and kind of a box to fit it and take it for breeding and then take it back home, but he did have hogs down there. Several more of them had hogs down there. But hogs, a cow and chickens were the extent of it.
PN: Could you describe that road that goes around and follows the coal seam?
VB: There's a road that takes off from Rt. 82, right down near the first sharp turn and goes out there about two hundred feet to a nice little green spot. And the bridge crosses Wolfe Creek and angles up the mountain to the coal seam. That road, bridge and road, was originally put in by Lacy Garten, who did... was doing timbering on the mountain at that time. After he finished timbering in there, we f inished the road on around to Butcher's Branch Where the fanway. Then we bridged across Butcher's Branch and made a road on around to the right hand side of the headhouse, where we could hope to take supplies and things in at that time. But that never did materialize. Along that road as you come up to the coal seam, back to the right along Wolfe Creek, there was a little bit of mining done there, a punch opening. A bin was put outside, constructed outside, and after a few cuts underground they encountered old works. So that was just another lost cause that somebody had great ideas of mining a lot of coal. But it wasn't there. It was already mined. Going on around toward the outcrop then to Butcher's Branch, we had another leasee that thought he could auger mine there. He auger mined, put in forty—nine holes, but after he got about three or maybe four sections of augering you would encounter old works and that was all the seams of coal that was there. So that didn't materialize. Then between Butcher's Branch and the headhouse, there was two large slate refuse piles that was put there by Lowmoor prior to this making of the tunnel up to the cliff where we could put refuse on top of ty mountain. Most of that refuse pile was done by Lowmoor around between Butcher's Branch and the headhouse. Out... I might mention that Safety Board that was installed near the office and driftmouth; James Ralph Taylor, we always called him Ralph Taylor, was the Safety Director at that time. And he was always preachin' safety. He had these large, looked like, billboards, constructed and placed at each mine. I forget now, "Your family depends on your safety. " I forget what the slogan was on the top of those things, but also gave the. .. how many days since the lost time accident and how many days since the last fatal accident, or somethin' like that. Gave out information. But Ralph was the Safety Director in the late Forties up until about '54 and safety was his main concern.
PN: When. . . do you remember any particularly notable accidents or did they have any explosions at the mine when you
VB: No explosion at the mines but we did occasionally there was a fatal, but not too many.
PN: Were they mostly from roof falls or…?
VB: Mostly roof falls, that's right. Only ones that I can recall were from roof falls.
PN: The United Mine Workers, did they organize the union during the whole period of time that you were affiliated with this. . . ?
VB: Yes, the whole time I was affiliated the union had already been organized. They were organized in the late Twenties and early Thirties. And by the time I came along, the union was already well organized.
PN: Do you know if they were a factor right through until 1962 when.. . ?
VB: That's right. Right up until it was mined out.
PN: Did you.. . you didn't have any particular with the union in your jobs did you?
VB: No. My first dealings with the union when I started in 36, September 16, 1936, I was a helper on the main line track at Minden, and, as such, I was required to belong to the union. But on February 1 1 went with the engineers. I was on salary and that was not covered by the union. So I was not required to belong to the union.
PN: Was it frequent for someone to move up from working in a union job to the Engineering Department or another position?
VB: Yes, it was. Especially for young people. If there was an opening on the Engineering Department, they usually would call on some young person at the mine that had ambition of gettin' further in the coal business. And, I didn't intend to stay as a track man all my life, so when the first opportunity came along, I took advantage of it and went with the Engineering Department.
PN: Did the company provide you with the training you needed for that job?
VB: No. No, I just... the men on the job that I worked with were primarily responsible for helping me to advance from place to place. It was on the job training as far as we were concerned, because we had a good crew of men and they were always willing to help the lowest man on the totem pole.
PN: Why did they pick you? Because you. . . ?
VB: I had a little inside track. I had a brother already on the force; my next door neighbor was the transitman and I knew all of them. At that time, there were fifty—four applicants and I was chosen because I had an inside advantage.
PN: And essentially you’re still with the Engineering Department now?
VB: I 'm semi—retired. I went from the Engineering Department to Inspector for the land company, which is still with the same parent organization. And, two years ago, I took semi—retirement. And, as such, I 'm still on call. They pay me. . . I get a company pension, which was started in 1949, and I get a company pension and they pay me the maximum that Social Security will allow and pay the country club dues for me and give me an automobile with expense account. So, I don't have any qualm with Berwin Corporation.
PN: Maybe if you '11 mention for a second the mansion in Connecticut. That was interesting, what you said before.
VB: Berwin people, years and years ago, had a large mansion in Connecticut. It's built on the order of the castle in England, something like that. There was a large article in one of the magazines about three years ago about this large mansion and it's the... kind of a liability now. I think they still own it. They haven't been able to get rid of it. It's a liability. And, at that time, when this magazine article came out, they were trying to give it to the state or something as a museum or something like that. But it was a large castle like of building, built on the order of the English castle.
PN: You said that you were only at the headquarters of the corporation once in Philadelphia?
VB: I've only been invited up there one time. They have large offices in Philadelphia. After forty—three and a half years, I was invited to go with a party up there for a conference and that's my only time that I've been in the Philadelphia office.
PN: Who did you always report to directly? An office in Charleston or...?
VB: Yes, sir. We had an office in Charleston. At that time, Mr. Zeb Herndon was my immediate superior. After he retired, Mr. David Stimple was my immediate superior and I always reported to them.
PN: And they have... the company has properties in Pennsylvania as well?
VB: Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Kentucky and Virginia. Those that I know of.
PN: About finished?
[END OF SIDE TWO - END OF TAPE]
Oral History Project - Callaham, Harold 1983 Part 1
(Taped at Hinton Visitor's Center, New River Gorge National River)
JW: Mr. Callaham, will you first of all give us your full name and your date of birth?
HC: My name is Harold Rupert Callaham; born January 20, 1903.
JW: So you 're eighty years old now?
HC: Eighty.
JW: OK. Where were you born?
HC: I was born in Avis, WV.
JW: Avis?
HC: . . . which is now incorporated and has been for a number of years into the city of Hinton.
JW: What were your parents' names?
HC: T. H. initials... my father's initials, T. H. And my mother Dottie.
JW: Where were they from?
HC: From Virginia.
JW: You don't know where exactly?
HC: In the area of Bedford City.
JW: What kind of occupation was your father in?
HC: He was a railroad conductor.
JW: When did he start work for the railroad?
HC: When he first started, of course, he was employed as a brakeman. And later he was promoted to a conductor.
JW: And you don’t know what years he worked there? When did he retire?
HC: Well, he died in 1922.
JW: Oh, I see. How about brothers and sisters? Do you have brothers and sisters?
HC: I have living one sister and one brother.
JW: What are their names?
HC: My sister's name is Mary Pearl. She married a fellow by the name of McCoy in Kentucky. My brother's name is. Paul. . . Paul R.
JW: He lives here in town?
HC: He lives in Illinois.
JW: And you say you have a brother who is deceased?
HC: I have two sisters deceased and two brothers. The sisters were Macel and Rosa lee, and the brothers were Carlos and Arnold.
JW: I was listening to a tape you had made about some of your early childhood memories. First of all, we talked a little bit about Haley's Comet. What do you remember about that?
HC: I really can't remember a whole lot it. I was listening and hearing people talk about it. But, I viewed it several times at night but it was just more or less of a big white streak
JW: How long of a streak would you say?
HC: Well, just from qround looking up there, I would probably say it was a half a mile long.
JW: It looked that long? How many nights could you see it?
HC: I don't remember.
JW: Was it something like two or three nights or was it a week, or what?
HC: I would say probably a week.
JW: Something else. I understand you remember the bateauxs they used to use in the river? What do you remember about them? What did they look like?
HC: Well, a bateaux was a boat made to ply on New River from Hinton to various points up New River where sawmills were located. They were a craft that was approximately sixty feet long, about ten feet wide.
JW: Do you know how deep they might be?
HC: I would think that they would be about four feet deep.
JW: What all would they carry in these bateauxs?
HC: Well, principally, lumber.
JW: Was this sawn lumber or barrel staves, or what?
HC: Both. Both lumber and barrel staves.
JW: Do you remember anything else they used to carry on the bateauxs?
HC: Well, occasionally, some farmer along the way would come to Hinton with a load of vegetables or meat or something, like that.
JW: OK. Where were bateauxs made? Do you remember that?
HC: No.
JW: Would there be a lot of them down there, or just one or two, or…?
HC: I used to play on these boats when they were tied up after they were empty, quite often. And sometimes there would be as many as three.
JW: Where were they tied up?
(Interference)
JW: OK. We were talking about where the bateauxs were docked. You said they were over where, now?
HC: In the general area of where the Hinton Builders and Supply is now located.
JW: According to the map, a little closer to the railroad tracks?
HC: Right adjacent to the railroad tracks.
JW: How were these bateauxs propelled?
HC: They were propelled, at first, by man power, shall we say.
JW: Were they poled, or…?
HC: With poles. And later on, some of them used a motor, especially through the long eddies.
JW: Oh, they did? What kind of motor did they have?
HC: Well, they were a. . . wait a minute, they weren't a outboard motor. They were a motor that was put in a boat similar to a skiff, shall we say. And the skiff was tied along side at the rear of the bateaux .
JW: Oh, so it pushed the bateaux?
HC: It pushed the bateaux.
JW: I saw a picture of a bateaux with an airplane motor on it. Do you know anything about that?
HC: Only thing I can recall is a fellow here in town one time (laughter) had an idea And he built him a boat and put a. . . something that looked like to me like an airplane propeller on it. Is that the one you were referring to?
JW: Yeah. It's in that photograph over there. Whatever happened to it?
HC: I've forgotten. I know he liked to have got drowned one time (laughter).
JW: Oh, really? What happened?
HC: Turned him over in high.. . when the river was up, he had it out foolin’ with it. His name was Wooley. Lawrence Wooley.
JW: OK. We were talking back about the bateauxs... about these piers that used to be along the river. Could you talk about that? Where they were and what they were used for?
HC: Piers and log booms between each pier were erected from about the mouth of Bluestone River to Leatherwood.. .
JW: Leatherwood Road?
HC: Well, let's say the Leatherwood Road. And they would gradually work the logs that were being floated down the river to the far side. And they led into some openings between the islands up here and passed over into Greenbrier River. And the same procedure was followed in the Greenbrier River down to James’ Sawmill.
JW: How far out were these piers in the water?
HC: Well, they...
(Third party: All the way across, wasn't they?)
HC: Well, yes. But they was some distance between each pier and it was a gradual trend to move to the far side.
JW: What's the purpose of the pier?
HC: Well, to put up these Log booms to shoot the logs across New River into Greenbrier River, through an am in the island up here...
JW: So these booms were more or less to prevent the logs from jamming
HC: ... and going on down the river.
JW: OK. It was to stop them from floating down river so they could be moved across river?
HC: That's right.
JW: And so, you don't remember how long they were? You say some of them were perhaps all the way across?
HC: Well, the piers were maybe a hundred feet or so from each other, or longer. Sims, wouldn't you think?
SW: But the pier itself, I’d say, was probably about the size of this room.
HC: It was constructed out of logs and filled with rocks inside.
JW: OK. Constructed of logs with rocks as balast. We were talking about your childhood in the' Hinton and Avis area. What was the first job that you had?
HC: First job was a paper boy.
JW: Which paper did you carry?
HC: The Hinton Daily News and the Independent Herald.
JW: Were they both daily newspapers?
HC: Both... daily newspapers. And in addition to that, there was a weekly.
JW: Now, were these morning papers... these daily papers?
HC: In the afternoon... both afternoon publications.
JW: Did you ever have any interesting experiences delivering newspapers?
HC: Well, I do recall that on occasion, I would get ‘first out’. That is, I would get papers first at the news office. And in that day and time, there were thirteen saloons in Hinton.
JW: What year was this?
HC: (to Mr. Wicker) When did the Bolstead Act go in (laughter)? I would get ten or twenty papers. I paid a half a cent each and I sold them for a penny each. And I would go down Third Avenue where most of the saloons were located and there would always be fellows standing out in front. And I could sell that bunch of newspapers before I got my regular papers for delivery to my customers.
JW: How old were you then, do you remember?
HC: I would say about twelve years old.
JW: And, did you ever have any interesting experiences while you were selling at these saloons?
HC: None that I can recall. I didn't go into the saloons myself.
SW: How about the black gal and the gun smokin’? Were you deliverin’ papers then?
HC: No. I was a call boy.
JW: OK. Tell me about that. What's a call boy, first of all?
HC: A call boy is a person that when a train is ordered to leave Hinton terminal, there was a crew to be called. And the call boy, where there isn't a telephone, had to go to the residence and call the employee.
JW: Oh. And what happened about this gun he was talking about?
HC: (to Sims Wicker) Didn't he ever hear that?
SW: No.
HC: One time when I was returning to the Yard Office, just as I passed Cline's Alley
JW: Where is Cline's Alley?
HC: That's between Sommers and Front Street, just about a half a block from the Yard Office where I worked . I heard a gun fire.
JW: Was it in the night or day?
HC: It was in the daytime, along in the afternoon. . . early afternoon. And being curious as a Young boy would, I went out into the alley and stopped in front of a residence there and the door was standing open. And inside the door, I could see a woman standing there with a revolver in her hand and smoke comin’ out the barrel. At her feet on the floor was a Negro I assumed she had shot. I was later told she had shot him through the forehead. But I didn't pause there too long for I realized the news. . . that I would probably be involved in something. So I got out of there right quick and went about my work.
JW: Why did she shoot him? Or do we know?
HC: Well, back in that day and time in that part of town, there was a lot of houses of prostitution and so forth. And I think that was what was involved
JW: Did you know her?
HC: I knew her as a person who was called "Hair-lipped Sue”. A double hair—lipped woman.
JW: How old were you at that time?
HC: Well, I’d say fifteen years old.
JW: So you worked... you had some experiences there already (laughter). So you were selling newspapers and were a call boy for the railroad. What else did you do?
HC: Well, continued working for the railroad up until the time of my retirement. Following a caller, I was given a promotion to what was known as a check clerk, And from the check clerk… let's see, what did I do. . .
JW: What was the last job you had on the railroad?
HC: I was terminal train master at Hinton .
JW: So, you probably worked there at the yard?
HC: Oh I worked at the yard at various jobs and later on, in 1923, I was sent to Thurmond to work as a car distributor.
JW: Tell me what that was like.
HC: Well, that was a job where that you contacted each coal mine after four o'clock in the afternoon to find out what they had loaded during the day and to get their order for cars for the next day to be supplied that night.
JW: What was it like living in Thurmond then?
HC: Well, I had roomed at the famous DunG1en Hotel.
JW: Oh, you did? How long did you stay there?
HC: Approximately two years.
JW: What do you remember about the Dun Glen?
HC Well, I wasn't involved in it but I heard that there was a continuous poker game, went on twenty-four hours a day.
JW: Oh, really. You never actually saw it, but you.
HC: I just heard of it. And they had big dances and social affairs around Thurmond.
JW: Did you ever go to any of the social affairs?
HC: I went to the dances a few times.
JW: What were they like?
HC: Well, just like a dance most any other place in a town.
JW: How was it decorated inside the Dun Glen for the dances?
HC: The dances were held in the...on the ground floor, that is. We spoke of it as the basement but it was the ground level. A big open place.
JW: And what kind of draperies did they have? Do you remember that?
HC: No.
JW: The bands. . . they had special bands?
HC: Professional traveling bands to come in on occasion.
JW: What about this reputation Thurmond has for being a wild, wild-west type town? Did you ever see anything that warranted that?
HC: No, truthfully not. But, of course, hearsay that there was somebody that was maybe thrown off the New River Bridge there at Thurmond most anytime.
JW: Did you ever meet their Police Chief there, Harrison Ash?
HC: Ash? No.
JW: I heard some tales about him. I didn't know how true they were.
SW: Did you ever play for dances at Thurmond when you were part of a local band or orchestra. . . dance band?
HC: Just one time . I wasn't a member of a band but they visited down there and played for a dance and I set in with them. That's all.
JW: Did you play with them then?
HC: Oh, yes.
JW: What instrument did you play?
HC: Reeds.
JW: You play reeds.
HC: Yeah.
JW: I’m not familiar with that instrument.
HC: Well, that's saxophones and clarinets and such.
JW: OK. You’re talking about all different types? I didn't realize that.
SW: What were some of the places you did play with a band when you had your orchestra?
HC: Well, we played from Huntington, east, all through the coal fields, all into parts of Virginia.
JW: Did you play for any of the coal fields there in the Gorge?
HC: That one time at Thurmond, but most of them were up around like Layland. And over into Oak Hill and Beckley and places like that.
JW: Back to Thurmond when you were working for the railroad, how much business did they have going through there then? I t m told it was quite an amount.
HC: Well, I ‘m trying to remember. I know there was two banks. There was two undertaking establishments, a drug store, a barber shop, two hotels the DunG1en and what we called the "Lay Flat”.
JW: I’ve heard about the "Lay Flat”. That t s the Lafayette?
HC: Yeah, that's right (laughter).
JW: OK. They called it the Lay Flat. And…
SW: How about the meat packing houses?
HC: There was a meat packer had a branch there. I believe it was Armour.
JW: What type meat did they have there? Was it beef, pork or what?
HC: Well, just a distributing point in the coal fields.
JW: Yes, I could definitely see how that would be needed in the coal fields. How about the number. the amount of coal that went through Thurmond? Have any idea how large the freight trains were carrying the coal?
HC: Well, you understand Thurmond was an assembling point. The coal that was mined on White Oak Branch, on Loop Creek and on the South Side as far down as. . . let's see. . . Brooklyn. . . Coal. . . Coal Run. It was an assembling point and it was picked up there by the main line crews that operated out of Handley or Hinton. There would be turns. The crew would be called out of Hinton and would take a train of coal cars and set off part at maybe Meadow Creek, Quinnimont or Thurmond and turn their engine there and get a train of East loads and bring back to Hinton.
JW: They had a turntable then there at Thurmond?
HC: Oh, yes.
JW: That's putting a lot of things into perspective. This is good. OK, when you were working for the railroad, do you remember anything about your hours you worked, or the wages you got there?
HC: A call boy worked twelve hours a day.
JW: When did he start?
HC: At seven a.m. for the daylight shift and at seven p.m. for the night shift. And he worked seven days a week, twelve hours a day.
JW: Seven days a week!
HC: And, for. that service you got $32.50 a month whether there was thirty one days or February now and then.
JW: Didn't seem to balance out too well. How about your other work with the railroad, do you remember what your wages were there?
HC: Well, when I was a clerk back in that day and time, why the average wage was around $80 per month.
JW: OK. I’m interested in when did you get married and whom did you marry?
HC: Oh, my goodness! When did I get married, Sims?
JW: Your wife don't get to listen to this tape (laughter).
HC: I’ll be married fifty five years in May on May 29, 1984.
JW: So that means you were married in 1929. . . May 29, 1929. OK. Could you tell us your wife's name?
HC: What's her name, Sims? (laughter) Edith Lucille Clark.
JW: Clark was her maiden name?
HC: Yes.
JW: Was she from this area?
HC: Yes, from Hinton.
JW: Is that where you met her?
HC: Yes.
JW: And you got married here in Hinton then?
HC: Right.
JW: Where did you first live?
HC: Where did I first live?
JW: Where did you first live. . . you and your wife? Where did you start out?
HC: Oh. We lived the first two years with her mother. And later on we had an apartment.
JW: Where was that?
HC: In the Bowling Haynes building.
JW: Here in Hinton?
HC: Yes.
JW: OK. I’d Like to go back just a little bit and talk about the New River and your experiences as far as swimming, in it and fishing and crossings over there.
HC: Well, in my early childhood, my place of was more often on the river bank and in the river than anywhere else. My parents were. . . never gave as much thought to the danger involved in playing in water. It was always to stay away from the railroad.
JW: Oh, really. The railroad was the danger and not the river?
HC: That’s right. And that's where I spent my life (laughter).
JW: Where the danger was?
HC: That's right. Oh, we went swimmin', catch minnows, fish...
JW: What did you use for bait mostly?
HC: Minnows back in that day and time.
JW: Where was the best fishing area around here? Where did you fish?
HC: Well, I fished usually when I was a child along in this eddy here in Avis.
JW: Did you catch much?
HC: No. (laughter)
JW: What was the biggest fish you ever caught when you were growing up?
HC: When I was growin’ up? I would say it would be a cat fish in the neighborhood of fifteen pounds.
JW: That's a good sized catfish.
HC: Course, I’m not talkin’ about carp. I don't know what they would weigh, would you Sims?
JW: You caught a few carp then?
HC:(laughter) Twenty five or thirty. We caught a few of those after we retired from the railroad.
JW: You fish together?
HC: Oh, a whole lot.
JW: Before I forget it, for the person who is transcribing this tape, the other voice on here is Sims Wicker. We’ve got him on another tape, in case there is a question about who the other voice is.
SW: A fourteen foot jon boat wouldn't hold all the channel cats Harold Callaham and I have caught there below that dam since 1970.
JW: Oh, really. Where do you fish?
SW: Where?
JW: No, when?
SW: When. . . yeah, we fished early. We'd go early of the morning and fish maybe up until eleven or twelve o t clock.
JW: What'd you use for bait?
SW: Oh, we'd use night crawlers, soft shelled crawfish when we could get ‘em, hellgrammites. But we brought our share of the fish out below the dam.
JW: Have you seen the river change that much in your lifetime, other than the dam, of course? Have you seen any other type changes in the river as far as the type fish you caught out of it?
HC: I don't think so. You used to catch a whole lot of pike out of the river but you don't do that anymore. That's the only change I can think about.
JW: How big of a pike did you catch?
HC : Oh, probably two or three pounds .
JW: Oh, really? OK. I want to change the subject here and ask a couple of other questions. When you were raised here, were there many blacks in Hinton that you remember? I know some came to work on the railroad . I'm just trying. . . I'm interested in finding out how they lived here, were there that many of them, and how they got along.
HC: Well, we never had. . there weren't too many blacks in Hinton and they were all in about the same section of town.
JW: Where was that?
HC: That was in the area of.
JW: Going up Cemetery Hill.
HC: Well, I was going to say. . .
SW: They just wasn't too many black people around .
HC: That's right.
SW: Few that were, lived up in there above the Greenbrier School and that area.
HC: It's kind of hard to give you a spot there .
JW: OK. While we f re on that subject, I understand there was one lynching in the Hinton area. Where was that?
HC: Well, what I have heard about that was this: There was, I don't know whether it was a rape or attempted rape, and the person involved in it was jailed in Hinton and a mob formed. And they got him out of jail and they were gonna hang him to a tree that was located behind Dr. Bigany’s hospital. What's that street that goes right through there?
SW: Cross Street?
HC: Yeah. Where Bigany’s hospital used to be... But, anyhow, he had a right sick patient in his hospital and Dr. Bigany come out and talked to the mob and told them what was going on in the hospital and asked them to move somewhere else.
JW: Go hang him somewhere else, huh?
HC: Yes (laughter), go hang him somewhere else . Which they did.
HC: And they hung him to a tree just off the road up what we know as Possum Hollow, which is a road that leads up to the Hilltop Cemetery .
JW: And that was the only lynching that you know of?
HC: That was the only one I ever heard of.
JW: Oh, something that we were talking about earlier about your days with the railroad and stories that you heard about Billy Richardson. We were talking about the problem that he had with a coal tipple at one time. Would you mind telling us about that?
HC: Cecil Lively, an engineer now deceased, told me that he was the fireman for Billy Richardson on the run between Hinton and Huntington on a passenger train. And some place down in the Gorge, a coal company had erected a tipple and they wasn't enough clearance. And as they were passing this tipple, it tore the cab off the engine.
JW: Were either one of them injured?
HC: Neither one were injured or anything like that. It just caught a corner of something and tore the cab off.
JW: Didn't hurt any other parts of the train?
HC: No. No derailment or anything. No accident occurred, just tore the cab off of the locomotive. And they went into Huntington settin’ on the seat without any cab (laughter) on the engine.
JW: Sounds like that must have been a story to tell. You don't remember which coal company it was, do you?
HC: No.
JW: We were talking about your early life in Hinton, about the type recreation. Do you remember what type of games you used to play, what you did for amusement? I understand they had Coney Island down there.
HC: Well, in my early days, we made our entertainment and fun. Course, I’ve stated that we played on the river bank and what we did around, in and around the river. But the streets in Hinton or Avis neither were paved. And we kids played baseball in the street. Usually we made our own baseball with out of string. And for a bat, we jerked a paling off of somebody’s fence. And we played in the street. We played marbles. And in the fall of the year, it was to go back into the woods where they was. . . back in those days, they was a lot of chestnuts, chinkeepins, pawpaws, wild grapes and such as that. And we just made our own fun. We had a better time than kids do today.
JW: I imagine you did. How about the winter time?
HC: In the winter time, it was sleigh riding, ice skating.
JW: Where did you ride your sleigh?
HC: Well, we kids in Avis, we did most of our riding down on what was spoke of as Avis Hill. There weren't but just a very few automobiles in Hinton in that day and time. And there hardly wasn't any traffic in the streets. . . wasn't really any problem. Sometimes we come out of that place that was referred to as Possum Hollow for a short distance. That's about all. . .
JW: I remember somebody saying something about the river freezing over in 1917.
HC: I have seen the river frozen from bank to bank. And on one winter, can't tell you which one it was, the river was frozen over and the ferry couldn't operate. And a team. . . wagon and a team of horses, crossed on the ice. And my brother in-law, whose father was a doctor, said he used to go with his father in the winter time and they went in the sleds and they usually went up the river on the ice.
JW: On the ice?
HC: On the ice.
JW: You don't remember what year that was , do you?
HC: No.
JW: How far up river would they go?
HC: They would go up. . . well, he was talkin’ about Wiggens Eddy. Do you know where Wiggens Eddy is.
JW: No, I’m not certain where that is.
HC: Well, that would be some four or five miles from his hospital. He’d go up the river on the ice.
SW: The Greenbrier River.
JW: Up the Greenbrier River.
HC: Yes, Greenbrier River.
SW: Wiggens Eddy is just a mile this side of Willowood Country Club.
JW: That gives me some idea of where it is.
SW: Calley, did you ever have an interest in attendin’ circuses?
HC: When I was the (laughter)
JW: Sounds like a loaded question.
HC: (laughter) When I was selling papers and was delivery boy for the publisher, that was one thing that was included in my pay was a free ticket to every circus that came to Hinton. And if I didn't get one, I always went to the circus anyhow, but I never paid for it.
JW: How did you get in?
HC: Always slipped in.
JW: Under the tent (laughter).
HC: Under the tent (laughter), never got caught. I had a fellar caught one time settin’ next to me. He'd slipped in too, they'd caught him and put him out.
JW: But you just looked innocent, huh?
HC: Oh, yes. And carnivals used to set on the streets in Avis. And sometimes they'd stay there nearly for a month.
JW: I understand there was a flood one time that got one of them.
HC: Flood did get one of them one time. And that was the last showing they had.
JW: How did the big circuses come to town?
HC: Well, they come by railroad and they unloaded on Avis crossing.
JW: What circuses do you remember? Did Ringling Brothers ever come here?
HC: No, no. There was Spark's Circus, Robinson Circus, Sal’s Floata (?)
JW: Another one? What about Silas Green?
HC: Silas Green Negro Minstral was the first sign of spring each year.
JW: What was that like?
HC: It was a negro minstral show.
JW: Were they all black?
HC: They were all black.
SW: Come in by train, did they?
HC: Yes, they had one car and everybody connected with it rode in that one car or in coaches on the train. And the second sign of spring was onion sets in the stores.
JW: Onion sets?
HC: Yes. Silas Green Show, then onion sets. (laughter)
JW: So, you could buy onions when...
HC: When you could tell spring was just next week or around the corner.
JW: So you could buy onions in the store. Is that what you are saying?
SW: Yeah. Onion sets to put in your garden.
HC: The little ones that you plant.
JW: Oh, I see. Where did the Minstral Show perform?
HC: In the bottom at Avis. That's in the area where Foodland Store is
JW: OK. And they'd perform outdoors?
HC: No. They were under canvas.
JW: OK. It was under a tent?
HC: Yes.
JW: I didn't realize that. How about some of these floods in the river? Do you remember much about them?
HC: I don't remember. Course, we usually had high water every year, especially in the spring. And we lived down in Avis, but we were never put out of our home down there to my knowledge, on account of high water. But now there was a flood here back in the 1’40 or ‘41 that entirely covered everything in the bottom of what we know as Avis. And then Bellepoint over across the river here, just one little spot over there on the level land that wasn't under water.
JW: How about the islands out there? I imagine they were under water.
HC: Oh, yes.
JW: When you think back to the Depression, which were the hardest years for you? Twenties or Thirties, or what? Truthfully, I never had any hard years.
HC: Truthfully, I never had any hard years.
JW: How many people can say that?
HC: Well, I’d have to tell the truth about it, for I had a job and worked all the time.
HC: That’s good.
SW: One thing about it, if you had a job during the Depression, why you had it made.
HC: That's right.
SW: You were making pretty good money and prices were just rock bottom. And, if you had a steady income, why you didn't have anything to worry about.
HC: I was Yard Master here at Hinton during that time.
JW: Do you have any specific memories from your work as Yard Master there?
HC: Oh, well, that's just operating and running the yard.
JW: Anything that sticks in your mind in particular? Any instances or situations that happened?
HC: Oh, well, 'm sure there were many of them. I remember one time after manifest trains that is, boxcars and refrigerators and so forth like that, that started operating special trains and they called them manifest trains one was handled up the east main line in the lower yard, west bound yard and prior to that train's arrival, there had been a mashup of a boxcar over in the yard that had been loaded with evergreens. And, what was left had been thrown over the bank, over onto the river bank. And somebody came along and had a notion that they'd get rid of that old broken up boxcar and they applied a match to it. They set it on fire. And about the time it really got to burning, why, this manifest train showed up and came up there and stopped on a signal. And the boxcar caught on fire on the train.
JW: It was next to it then?
HC: Right next to where this’n had been thrown over and set on fire.
JW: What’d you do then?
HC: Well, the train was cut into on both ends and pulled away and let the boxcar burn up.
JW: What kind of cargo was in it, do you remember?
HC: If I can remember correctly, it was a boxcar loaded with hay.
JW: And that would burn.
HC: That burned the ties out from under the track (laughter).
JW: What did you do then? You had two parts... half a trains.
HC: (laughter) Oh, we put it together over in the yard .
JW: Did they ever carry... ever handle explosives on the trains?
HC: Oh, yes. Nearly everyone of these manifest trains that I speak of had inflammable or explosive lading.
SW: What about the traffic during the World War... second World War?
HC: Well, it was the greatest time for rail... handling of both the...
JW: Troop trains, war materials...
HC: Yeah, war materials, coal and such that in the history of the railroad. I was trying to remember the other day about the number of oars handled through Hinton on the biggest day on record. And it was right around three thousand cars.
JW: Three thousand cars! That was during World War Il?
HC: Yes.
JW: That was a lot of cars. Was that passenger and freight?
HC: Just freight.
JW: Just freight? That's not counting passengers.
HC: Oh, no. You had a passenger train just goin’ and comin’ all the time.
JW: That must have been something else. Is there anything else you would like to mention on this tape before we close it down? That's basically some of the questions I wanted to ask you.
HC: Oh, I don't know. Maybe when I go home or something, I’ll think of something else.
JW: One more thing I wanted to add on the tape. Sims was talking about Cecil Lively. I understand he used to be one of your neighbors?
SW: Yes, Cecil Lively, for years lived just across the street from me on the west end of town. I remember Cecil Lively as a kind hearted, easy going, reserved man that didn't try to make a lot of noise or attract attention. But, I was just going to ask Harold Callaham, after the accident in which Billy Richardson was killed and Lively was his fireman on that train, Cecil Lively was injured and I can't recall whether he fell off of a tank while he was taking coal and water, or whether a lump of coal fell off a tender and hit him in the head.
But he was injured. Caney, do you remember how that happened? I know it led to his early retirement from the railroad.
HC: Sims, I can’t recall that.
JW: Did he ever talk to you about Billy Richardson, as far as his being his fireman?
HC: This was just on a, you might say a rare or one time occasion that I was talkin’ with him. I knew him quite well. Of course, he was a locomotive engineer and he was on the yard a whole lot. And that's where you got acquainted with a person and really knew him. But, sometimes, he's just Like anybody else, you get together somewhere and you commence to talkin’ and something will pop up.
SW: Cecil Lively was one of the Lively family from over around in Monroe County. And I t m sure that this other Lively that lives here now, a retired school teacher, is probably Cecil Lively's cousin or either a nephew. And Cecil Lively's wife was a Sims from over at. . .
[END OF SIDE ONE]
Oral History Project - Callaham, Harold 1983 Part 2
(Taped at Hinton Visitor's Center, New River Gorge National River)
HC: …they were movin’ so much stock, that is, horses and cattle. . .
SW: Hogs. . .
HC: Yes, to Europe. And they, course, Hinton was a stopping place for feed and water for all livestock. And the dead animals would be removed from the cars. And they was quite a number of them... and burned.
JW: How were they burned?
HC: Well, Sims has described it there. They built a great place and put railroad rails... sort of like a barbecue... a big grill... and built a fire under them, you know, and burnt ‘em up to these railroad rails.
JW: I bet that was some odor, too.
HC: Well, it was somethin’ else. But, I can't recall that other one. The thing I remember about the dust out there, is when it would rain over here in Hinton, after the rain dried on your automobile, it was covered with mud.
So much dust?
HC: Yeah, so much dust and your car would be spotted.
JW: When was this? Before World War II, in the Thirties?
HC: Uh-huh.
JW: We were talking about... where were these animals unloaded?
HC: At the stockpens.. .
JW: …that's near where the Hinton House and Kroger is...
HC: No... the stock pens were in the area where Kroger is now.
WC: Mrs. Cashion, could you tell us your name, please, and your date of birth?
LC: Ah, Thelma Louise Forren Cashion, and I was born June 6, 1913, at Dunglen Mountain, that is in Fayette County, West Virginia.
WC: Now how close is this to Thurmond?
LC: I'd say it's about 5 miles from Thurmond.
WC: That's on the South Side of the River? the Oak Hill side?
LC: Uh Huh.
WC: Now, what was your parents' name?
LC: My father's name was James R. Forren and my mother was Mamie U. Forren.
WC: Where did they move to Dunglen Mountain from?
LC: Ah, my mother and father were originally from Monroe County, around Union.
WC: What about your grandparents? Were they from there?
LC: My grandparents were from Union, Monroe County.
WC: So…
LC: And when my mother and father first got married, they come to Fayette County and they lived down at Red Star. Red Star’s about ten miles from Thurmond.
WC: Ok, now is that on the upstream side or the downstream side?
LC: It's coming towards Oak Hill from Thurmond.
WC: Ok, that's up away from the Gorge then?
LC: Yes.
WC: Right, right. What occupation did your parents follow?
LC: My daddy was a coal miner.
WC: Do you remember some of the mines he worked at?
LC: Well, he worked at Dunglen Mountain; there was a mine there. And, uh, he worked at Lookout Mines when we moved from Red Star to Lookout.
LC: And we left Lookout when I was seventeen years old. Then they moved to Caperton, and they lived at Caperton about two years and there they moved over to Elverton.
WC: What year was it you moved to Caperton?
LC: Caperton? 1929.
WC: What was some of your first memories there; how old were you then when you moved to Caper ton?
LC: I was seventeen.
WC: Well, what do you remember about…
LC: I’d like to make a correction, I was fifteen when we moved to. fifteen or sixteen.
WC : What are some of your memories about the town and so forth, can you tell me about that?
LC: At Caperton…
WC : How many people lived there, do you know?
LC: I 'd say roughly a hundred.
WC: And how many houses would have been there then?
LC: Probably, a uh, twenty.
WC: Did any black people live there then?
LC: No, uh the most of the black people lived over at Elverton; and the school was over there - there was no school in Cape ton.
WC: Ok, and what about the mines, your father worked in the mines when he went to Caper ton?
LC : No, he worked over at Elverton in the mines.
WC: But lived at Caperton?
LC: Un huh.
WC: We talked a little bit about a swinging bridge, do you remember that?
LC: He'd cross a swinging bridge to get to Elverton to work and the stores was over at Elverton, the grocery stores, and the uh movie was over at Elver ton.
WC: Can you tell me a little about Caperton, about the houses? Were they in a row along the railroad tracks, ah what they looked like?
LC: No. I would say more of a group of houses than they were just scattered along the railroad tracks.
WC: There was a road that ran between them?
LC: No, there was no road.
WC: What was the transportation then? How'd you get in and out.
LC: The train.
WC: Do you remember any of the trains that ran through there — the schedules?
LC: Oh, there was all kinds of passenger trains.
WC: Uh huh.
LC: I can remember them better after I went to McKendree because we got patients from the trains.
WC: Uh huh
LC: Three, ah, seven and eight, thirteen and fourteen were the four that always stopped. And then if any'd have mine injuries, they'd stop and let the patients off.
WC: The trains would bring them down — the passenger trains?
LC: Uh huh, up and down the river.
WC: Let's talk a little bit about McKendree. Can you tell me when you first went there?
LC: Ah, June, 1930.
WC: You started in nurses training then?
LC: Uh huh, June, 1930.
WC: Can you tell me about the hospital then, what you remember about going to McKendree?
LC: Well, when we was in training, we called it training school. We went and stayed three years. You were on the, they put you on the floor when you first started work, and you. We went on duty at six—thirty and we'd get breakfast and we were ready to go to work at seven. And of course we always worked with other nurses, they trained us, the older nurses trained us and we had our classes at night.
WC: So you worked during the day and went to school at night. How many hours did you go at night?
LC: It was according to how long the instructor wanted to talk with us. Ah, we went off duty, we went on duty at seven and if we got our work done ' we had two hours off during the day. If we didn't we stayed, but we worked twelve hours a day.
WC: So it would be twelve hours on and then the night shift would come on. 101at time would they come on?
LC: They'd come on at six—thirty and relieved us at seven. And we worked seven days a week. We had a half—day off during the week. And we had a two weeks vacation during the summer. And if we disobeyed the rules they 'd put us what they called ' 'on campus, we couldn't go to the store about a half—mile from campus.
WC: What were some of the rules?
LC: What do you mean, what were some of the rules?
WC: Ah, you had to have certain rules you had to go by, ah, in other word, if you broke a rule, you'd be “on campus." What would be one of the things that would, ah...
LC: Well, if you, ah, didn't go on du. . . you were late going on duty, you were punished for that. If you didn't do your work, you were punished for that. If you slept on duty, you were punished for that. And, ah, the superintendent of nurses inspected you , your uniforms, and if you were tired when you went on duty every morning. And if you didn't meet the standards, they would send you off—duty. And whatever time it took you to put yourself back together to come back is what they deducted off your two hours.
WC: This is the break you would get, the two hours?
LC: Uh huh.
WC: And this was just once a week you got two hours?
LC: No, every day.
WC: Every day.
LC: And we got a half—day, one o'clock, we went off—duty at one o' clock for a half—day during the week.
WC: I don't think I asked you what period of time you were at McKendree. were the dates?
LC: From 1930 until January of '37.
WC: And you finished your three years of training?
LC: Uh huh. And you had your training and you were - to a nurse, and you took your state board's before you become an RN.
WC: This would be like a final examination?
LC: Uh huh.
WC: What type of questions did they ask?
LC: Oh, we had eighteen subjects. Anatomy, gynecology, medical nursing, psychiatry , medica, anatomy, dietetics, nursing history, nursing ethics...
WC: Was this test given at McKendree?
LC: It was given at McKendree and also the West Virginia State Nurses Assocation gave it.
WC: You mentioned a little while ago about being 'on the floor’. I guess this means practical work. Could you tell me a little bit about the practical work that you would do with other nurses?
LC: Every nurse had a certain places to perform her duties. You had a male ward that you had a certain number of months to serve on; a female ward, private duty, treatment room, ah, and surgery, and then your night duty. See, we got training in all those fields, and black wards, male wards and black female wards. See we had a certain number of months to spend on each ward.
WC: So you had these separate wards that you worked at?
LC: Uh huh.
WC: You mentioned that, something about private fields. Were there private rooms there?
LC: Private rooms.
WC: How many did you have?
LC: I'd say there was at least twelve.
WC: And how many patients would you usually have? Total?
LC: Probably around from seventy—five to eighty .
WC: And how many student nurses would you have there?
LC: I'd say eighteen.
WC: And then you'd have so many registered nurses who were instructors and employees there? How many would this amount to?
LC: Maybe four.
WC: Could you tell me a little bit about the in the hospital. How the structure, how it was operated and so—forth. There was a superintendent, I imagine, and.
LC: Before we go into that, I'll tell you a little bit about the wards. Ah, the wards, the male wards, I'd say you could have a least from twenty to twenty— four males in there; and I would, probably the female ward would have the same. Now our black female ward was small. We could accommodate about six black ladies, and we could accommodate about fourteen black males. And we delivered babies there, and they were always put in a private room with the mother. They were never put in the wards.
WC: I see. OK, now can you tell me a little bit about who the superintendent was, and.. .
LC: Dr. Godbey was superintendent of the Hospital, and McKendree Hospital was a state hospital, it was run by the State. And, uh, the Post Office was in the Hospital. We had a operating room supervisor, superintendent of nurses, we had a night supervisor, we had an X—ray technician, and a laboratory technician. They were all located in the hospital. And the drug room, they call the pharmacy this day; we called it the drug room in our time.
WC: What type of medicines did you have available to you at this period?
LC: Ah, the antibiotics weren't — we didn't have antibiotics then, penicillin, streptomycin, all the mycins .
WC: Mckendree started out as a miner's hospital. I noticed you mentioned an Emergency Hospital a moment ago. Do you remember when the name changed?
LC: No, I don' t. But 1 think it was after, maybe along about '35.
WC: Who were most of your patients about this time, when you were there?
LC: Ah, they came from all the mining camps, and it was during the depression. We got patients from all the other areas. People just couldn't afford to go to the other hospitals.
WC: What other hospitals were around?
LC: Oak Hill Hospital, Beckley Hospital, Pinecrest, that was for Tuberculosis .
WC: You provided free medical care, then?
LC: Well. I suppose the people who couldn't afford to pay for it. But see, the miners, what, they were called list patients, paid so much a month for hospitalization.
WC: They paid this to the mine company or to the hospital.
LC: To the hospital. I don't know if they paid it to the mine companies. The doctors were paid so much a month in the mining camps, too.
WC: This would be the private medical doctors?
LC: Uh huh, or they just called them list doctors. There wasn't any difference between private doctors or list doctors. They were just any doctor who wanted to take care of them.
WC: Would you explain the term "list doctors ?" L—i—s—t?
LC: Uh huh. They were paid from the payroll of the miners. The company would collect their fee from the miners.
WC: Uh huh. Can you tell me what the community, the area around McKendree Hospital looked like? What was available on the New River?
LC : There was only one boarding house at McKendree, and there was a farm house across the river from the hospital and there was a little store down at the railroad. My brother ran the little store.
WC: And what was his name?
LC : Robert L. Forren. He lives in Beckley, WV now.
WC: How long did he run the store?
LC : Maybe five years.
WC : Do you recall when he sold?
LC: No. I don't remember.
WC : Do you remember anything about the New River, any incidents, anything like that ?
LC: No. Uh, our entertainment was to go to the river and swim, and we would have weiner roasts down on the river, and they would fish a lot on the river.
WC: Was fishing real good then?
LC: Yes.
WC : miat about boats and so forth? Did you see any of them?
LC : No. No large boats. They had boats to get across the river on, but not too many .
WC : When you were at McKendree, what type of transportation was available to you?
LC: Well, you usually travel the train. And occasionally we would go to Beckley if someone would take us by car. That was before Batoff Mountain was paved and it would take about three hours to get from McKendree to Beckley.
WC : How would you go?
LC : By car.
WC: What would be the route?
LC: Prince. Across the bridge, across the river at Prince.
WC: Was there a ferry there then?
LC: No.
WC: There was a bridge there then?
LC: A toll bridge.
WC: A toll bridge. What was the fee, do you recall?
LC: I don't recall.
WC: The old McKendree road, do you remember what type condition it was in?
LC: Well, it was just a fair country road. It was always passable. We didn't get too many patients by car; they would usually travel by train. And of course the doctors and nurses, when we went there, we stayed.
WC: Well, can you tell me about the buildings. What the hospital grounds and facilities looked like?
LC: The nurses stayed on the second floor of the nurses home, and it was a duplex. And the doctors stayed on one side and the nurses on the other, but of course we had the top floor of the duplex.
WC: How many nurses lived on the top floor?
LC: I would say at least twenty.
WC: The entire student body stayed on the top floor?
LC: There was two rooms down stairs that some of the nurses stayed in.
WC: Did you have private rooms or was it a dormitory type?
LC: Dormitory type, two or three.
WC: What about the water system there? Do you know anything about the water system. Did you have a well or did it come out of the river?
LC: It came out of the mountain.
WC: You had a spring there?
LC: It was piped in.
WC: Uh huh. Do you recall any particular dangerous diseases that might have occurred during your tenure?
LC: We had an epidemic of typhoid fever. That was in '34, '33 or '34. All along the river, mostly from Thayer. And some of our patients recovered, quite a few of them did, and that was before… The one’s that did recover, they said it was from the good nursing care we provide.
WC: Well, you were there for several years, so you completed your training at McKendree and stayed on?
LC: I was operating room supervisor.
WC: Did you train other student nurses?
LC: Yes.
WC: Can you mention some of the experiences in training the nurses.
LC: Well, back then you made all of your own supplies. We made our own plaster of paris. Now when you get it, it's already ready for use. We had to make our own. Ah, we had to make our own sponges, we had to make our own cotton balls. We, ah, had to req our own supplies. And there wasn't such a thing as a nurse's assistant then, we had one orderly and we did all the other work ourselves, the student nurses.
WC: Can you tell me a little about what tuition you had or the procedures you had for attending school?
LC: When we went to school, from the beginning, we furnished our own uniforms , our shoes and the hospital gave us $17 a month and, ah, furnished our board and room.
WC: What did the uniforms look like?
LC: Our uniforms were a striped dress and we had a bib and apron we wore over the striped uniform and white hose and white shoes.
WC: What color was the striped dress?
LC: Blue and white.
WC: Did you wear a hat?
LC: We got our hat after we had been there six months, if our work was satisfactory.
WC: And then on graduation, did you get another type hat?
LC: When we graduated, when we were there two years, we got a black, one black stripe for our hat; and when we were there three years, we got another stripe added and we got a white uniform.
WC: Ah, how were the doctors selected then?
LC: The doctors were selected from… well, it was a state run hospital and if the Democrats were in we got a Democratic doctor; and if the Republicans were in we got a Republican doctor.
WC: You mentioned Dr. Grafton before we started taping. Can you tell about him?
LC: Dr. Grafton was a graduate of Richmond Medical School, and he was from Lookout, WV. And he had come to McKendree for his, to practice medicine. He was a Democrat. And while he was there, he was performing surgery one day he just sort of fainted and they thought he was acting this way because he had performed the surgery in such a short length of time. But later we learned that he had a headache, and they took him to his room. And later on he was sent to Charleston for an examination, and from Charleston he was sent to Richmond, VA to a hospital and there they-found that he had a brain tumor. He was operated on in Richmond, VA and come back to McKendree to recuperate and, of course, he vas never able to perform surgery again. He went into private practice later on down in Thurmond.
WC: Do you know how long he stayed at Thurmond?
LC: I imagine he was there for five years.
WC: And where was his office at?
LC: I don't recall.
WC: What about the office routine. Do you remember anything about the office personnel?
LC: What do you mean 'office personnel?
WC: Well, did you have a manager there, or somebody who looked after the fiscal affairs?
LC: Mr. Oxley, he was Postmaster there, and each morning he would have prayer for us when we went over for breakfast.
WC: Was this in…
LC: The Post Office was in the hospital. And, of course, the patients got their mail, and all the nurses, and all the other employees.
WC: Was being the Postmaster his only job?
LC: Yes.
WC: Well, what about treatment at this time. For instance, if you had pneumonia?
LC: Well, you didn't have your antibiotics then as you do today. They said the good nursing care is what healed your pneumonia patients. You would have to turn them every hour from side—to—side. And they used a lot of mustard plasters then and they didn't use oxygen as much, it wasn't available as much then as it is now, for people that had difficult breathing.
WC: I understand the wards were open. Did you use screens to divide the patients?
LC: We made our own screens and they were always open. The only time they used the screens was to bathe the patients or if they needed more personal care and treatment. And the nurses, they did not have nurses aides as they do today , and they had one orderly for all the hospital and he would do all the work we were not capable of doing — we were capable of doing it, but we did not have time to do it (scrubbing the floors) and he would wait on the male patients for us.
WC: I imagine the hospitals had to be real clean. Did you have laundry facilities there?
LC: No, the laundry was sent out. Of course, we had to do our own disinfecting of our tables and, the best I can remember, Lysol was the best disinfectant that we had then and black boric acid.
WC: The nurses used this in scrubbing down their rooms?
LC: Uh huh, and bed pans, urinals, and our dishes and all that we had to disinfect.
WC: Were there any deaths at the hospital?
LC: Deaths? Yes, certainly.
WC: For those who couldn't pay, what did you do with them as far as burials?
LC: We were told that they were buried down on the river. Now, how true that is I don't know. I never did observe any of the burials.
WC: To change the subject just a wee bit from the hospital, what about your food supply? Where did that come from?
LC: Most of the food supply was raised at the hospital. They raised their own meat and their own vegetables. They had fruit trees and they had farm hands that took care of this.
WC: Did they live there?
LC: Yes. A man and his son ran the farm.
WC: What was their names?
LC: Engles.
WC: Do you recall what types of food they grew there?
LC: Well, they just grew anything that you grew in a garden — corn, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers, peas, muskmelons.
WC: Did the State pay for this food?
LC: No, I suppose the State gave the hospital so much to run on for the month. And, of course, this helped to pay the bills.
WC: I see. Did you have to pay for your meals?
LC: No. Meals were furnished for the nurses and anyone who worked for the hospital.
WC: Did you prepare your own meals?
LC: No. We had cooks, but we served the patients trays. We fixed the trays and we served them; and the patients that needed to be fed, we fed them. Then after they ate, we would pick the trays up and take them back to the diet kitchen. Then the ladies from the kitchen would take care of the trays from there. And we had a dietetican; she would supervise us when we would fix their trays.
WC: What are some of your earliest childhood memories of the New River area when you first moved there to Caperton?
LC: I wasn't on the River too long.
WC: Can you tell me when you first met your husband and when you were married?
LC: I met my… he used to teach school at Thayer. He used to walk up to the hospital with his girlfriend. She taught school with him, one of the Warren girls. So later on, one of his friends got him a blind date up at the hospital. He didn't know who she was. So when he came up there, it was me and I didn't know if I wanted to go out with him or not. But later on, we started seeing each other, maybe once a month. He would come up to the hospital
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Cavendish, R.E. 1980
School teaching - life in Sewell 1929-33, life in Thurmond
PN: When we start off, maybe you could just mention when you were
born, where you were born, and where you grew up.
REC: I was born at what is called Maywood; then it's an old post office there, it was on the top of Sewell Mountain. And I spent my life, my early life there, went to school there; and attended high school at Rainelle. We didn't have a high school in Fayette County at that time close enough for me to go to school, so we children living on the mountain there went to Rainelle High School. Our board of education paid our tuition into the different county; Rainelle's in Greenbrier County. And then after I finished high school, I went to New River State College, it was then—it’s West Virginia Tech now and got a teaching certificate. It took a year and a summertime at that time to get a teaching certificate. And I started teaching school just before I was 19 years old.
PN: Where was the first place you taught; was that at Sewell?
REC: No, the first place I taught was Cliff top. I took a teacher's place there that had to resign after a month or two of school. And I finished that year, and I was sent to Sewell next year. Now I did teach before I went to Cliff top, just two months, at a little one—room school back out at Corliss, back of Corliss. But we didn't have high enough enrollment there to keep a teacher, so they closed that school, and took those children to the Corliss school, and sent me to Cliff top. And I finished the year at Cliff top; that was the school year of 1928 and 1929. Then in the fall of t 29, I went to Sewell and taught there then until the spring of '33.
PN: Did you go to Thurmond after that?
REC: Yes, I was in Thurmond in ' 33.
PN: And how long did you teach in Thurmond?
REC: Four years.
PN: Maybe you mentioned this already. Did you mention the year that you were born and how old you are?
REC: 1 was born in 1909, in October 1909.
PN: So you were 20 then, when you began teaching at Sewell?
REC: At Sewell, right.
PN: Maybe what I could do is just, cause we're interested in a number of things about Sewell, so maybe I could run through a series of questions that maybe you could help us with. When you were teaching at Sewell, did you live right there at Sewell?
REC: Yes, yes. I boarded at Sewell for all four years. There's no possibility of driving to Sewell; there's no road to Sewell. And the way I usually got into Sewell on Sunday is walk from Cliff top down the little narrow—gauge railroad which was nine miles. Of course, there's another way I could get there is to drive to Keeneys Creek or Nut tall, and then walk up the C & O Railroad from Nut tall to Sewell. But the way I usually did it was just from Cliff top and down through the park, usually just about a little over two—hours walk.
PN: You had to walk to get in there then?
REC: That's right, yes, yes. On Sunday, of course and I always had to get back on Sunday, and on Sunday was no, no trains running at all, down the track. And coming out on Friday evening, I usually was able to catch the little coal train that was going back up the mountain. But
Sunday, there was no way to get in but walk.
PN: Was it the coal train that went from Sewell to Cliff top?
REC: That's right, yes. It was just a little, this narrow gauge road. You see, the tipple was at Sewell, but the coal was mined at Cliff top, so they had to haul this coal from Cliff top to Sewell. They had little shay engines, and small railroad cars of course home—made —— which I guess probably hold 20 tons, or something like that. That way is about nine miles from the mine, where the coal was mined, to the tipple where it was…
PN: When you lived in Sewell, how many people would you say lived there at that time?
REC: I would say there was around 200 people. 1 usually had, there was a two—room school there, and around 40 children in the school . so 1 would say there's 200 people. And of course, that was, at that time schools were segregated, you know. There was a two—room school of white children; and then there was a colored school there too.
PN: Both in Sewell?
REC: Both in Sewell. It was just a one—room school —— the colored school, or Black school.
PN: How many houses were there in Sewell, about?
REC: Oh, I would roughly say 25 to 30 homes, yes. Now, when I went there, there was a lot of old buildings that had been old store buildings that had been there years before. They were just abandoned then, and the company store was in one of those old buildings. But there were several old store buildings that, of course, had been there in the better days of Sewell when it was, that had been abandoned.
PN: They were abandoned In 1929?
REC: Yes, yes. Of course, I suppose maybe in the early 1900s probably was when they were there, when they were open for business.
PN: What other, that was something else I was going to ask you, what other, and I guess you answered it already in part, what types of structures were there in Sewell? You mentioned there were two school— houses and these abandoned stores.
REC: Yes, well, they were all frame buildings. Now the school building that I was in, I believe, had the only concrete foundation of any of the buildings there; all the rest of them were stone foundations. I was down there, went down there two or three years ago; it was the first time I'd been there for 30 years or so. Of course, the only way that I was able to find this old school building was by this concrete foundation. And then after I found it, why I was able to locate the other places 1 knew where I used to board, and the church, the company office, and where people, friends, lived that I knew, right around close to the schoolhouse.
PN: You said there was a boarding house? Or did you stay in the…
REC: There was a boarding house when I first went to Sewell, but I later, it later was closed up. And I boarded with the store manager and his wife the rest of the time I was there. He was, he had been principal of the school before he took the job with the store. He and his wife didn't have any children, and they took me to board with them. I stayed with them about three years, I think.
PN: And when you were there, you said there was a church, or churches?
REC: Yes, there's one church, a community church, all people used. 1 think mostly a Baptist church, but, now I presume that it was built by the coal company. Usually in those times, in the small towns like that, the coal company did build the community church.
PN: Most of the people were Baptists? Or were there other denominations and religions?
REC: There really wasn't, I remember, there, I guess there was a congregation of Methodists and of Baptists, because once a month, the old
Baptist preacher would come in, usually on Sunday night, and preach.
And then there was a Methodist minister who came in once a month, for part of the time that I was there. So apparently, there were two; there was a congregation of Methodists and a congregation of Baptists.
PN: Were the churches segregated at that time as well?
REC: Yes, yes, they were.
PN: Was there a Black church of some kind?
REC: Yes, yes, the Blacks had there church there too.
PN: What were they mostly, Baptists?
REC: I believe so; now I wouldn't I believe that was the usual denomi— nation of the Blacks.
PN: Were there many immigrants, or any immigrants, from Europe that were living in Sewell and working in the mines?
REC: No, no, while I was, the time that I was there, the, all the people, or most of the people there were people that lived there practically all their lives. Some people had been there all their lives. I do remember there was one family, I believe of Italian heritage, lived there. Their name 's Malay; they, they, some of them live here in Oak Hill now, and scattered around over the county. But that's the only immigrant, or family that I suppose that were not English or Scottish or anything like tha t.
PN: Do you have any estimate of, say, what percentage of Sewell was Black and what percentage was white at the time that you were there?
REC: Well, judging from the schools, I would say it was about two to one because we had a two—room white school and a one—room Black school. So, I would, that would be about the best way that I would know of estimating it, from that.
PN: Did most of the Black families had come in quite some time ago too?
REC: Yes, yes, they had lived there many years too.
PN: I guess they'd obviously come in to work in the mines?
REC: That's right. Well, of course, they worked in the coke ovens there, you see, there wasn't any mine there. All of the people there worked on the coke ovens and in the tipple.
PN: So Sewell wasn't really strictly a coal—mining town then, but it was more a coke…
REC: It was a coke town. That was all that was done. Then, of course, the coal company, they shipped coal from there. There was a good many men working on the tipple. But most of the people who lived there in Sewell, their jobs was on the coke ovens making coke.
PN: And the tipple was from the mine up at Cliff top?
REC: At Cliff top, yes.
PN: And the coal was brought down?
REC: The coal was brought down from Cliff top, and used there in the ovens; and then, of course, part of it was shipped. Now at the time that I was there, and I think for years before, most of the output of the coke made there went to the Buick Motor Company. They furnished the coke for .
PN: Up to Detroit, is that where they sent it?
REC: Yes.
PN: I think that the Park Service is particularly interested in the town, so let me ask you some more questions. What colors were most of the houses?
REC: Red, that was the standard color of the typical company town back in that time, red.
PN: Red? Like a dark red?
REC: Yea, kind of a brick red, I would say.
PN: And in these homes , how many rooms were in each of the homes?
REC: Oh, there were, I would say, five or six in each of the homes. A lot of the homes there were double homes; that is, they were two—family homes. But, of course, there was a lot of homes too that were single homes. But I would say about six rooms would be the average.
PN: How did people use these rooms? What were each of the six rooms used
for?
REC: Well, of course, largely, they'd have their living room and bedrooms and kitchen; maybe some of them had a dining room. Some of them used the kitchen for their dining room. It was similar to, just typical of any home.
PN: Would people often have wallpaper on the walls inside?
REC: Oh yes, yes, yes, their homes, most of them had their homes were well, well fixed up, and very attractive on the inside, just as attractive as, in fact, perhaps more so than a lot of, because people down there didn't own automobiles. So they didn't have money to spend on automobiles, so they perhaps took, were more, took more pride in their homes than the average.
PN: Would the wallpaper on the walls be different patterns and colors, usually?
REC: Yes, yes.
PN: Did most people have rugs on the floors?
REC: Yes, yes. Yes, their homes were just, most of them were just typical homes. Of course, back in that time, they were different from what they would be now. They didn't have wall—to—wall carpet ting, but they had their rugs on the floor.
PN: In a typical living room, what type of furniture would most people
have , in their living room?
REC: Well, the ones that I was familiar with would just very much like, usually; they didn't furniture, very much be they had the sofa and the chairs, radio, console radio have TVs, of course, then. But they were just typical like you'd find anywhere.
PN: What would they have in the bedrooms? Similar to what would be today?
REC: Yes, yes, they just had their beds, and maybe a couple of chairs.
PN: And in the kitchens, there would be?
REC: Well, of course, the kitchens where they, they'd have coal stoves, most of them. In fact, I guess all of them would have either coal or wood stoves, cause there's no gas there, or artificial heat of any kind. And outside of that, their kitchens would be, naturally they wouldn't the cabinets like we have today; but they used to have back in those days, it was a kind of a cabinet, movable, you know, I 've forgotten, just kind of a chest—thing. The upper part of it would have a flour chest and a place for dishes; and the bottom part of it, a place to store staples.
PN: Where would people purchase their furniture usually?
REC: They would, I guess they would, get, either at, probably have to go to Charleston or Montgomery to get, maybe Thurmond; I don't recall of ever being a furniture store in Thurmond. But now, I would say that 90% of the furniture was, they got from mail—order catalogs, unless the people were real well—off, why, that would be the cheapest, most convenient way to get their furniture.
PN: How was that delivered, on the train?
REC: On the train. yea.
PN: And what types of, you know, leisure, recreation activity would people engage in in Sewell?
REC: Well, they had a good many parties; invite people in, you know, for parties. Then, of course, they played cards, and went to school meetings and church meetings. And Wednesday nights and Sunday nights, they had church. And that was the main things; they were just very simple activities. The children, of course, played ball. They didn't have really room enough to play ball, but they did. Right in front of the school, we had a little area not any bigger, much bigger than this room [which measured about 30 feet by 12 feet], maybe this room, twice as big as this room that was the playground. And they played ball and about every other game.
PN: Were there any bars or saloons there at the time?
REC: No, no, that was back in Prohibition days, you see. They had not, however, there, there were some of the old buildings that I was telling you about, had been bars back in the early days. They had plenty of bars then, but during the time that I was there, they didn't have any bars. They had a moonshiner or two, but, beverages [laughs]
PN: There was one company store at the time?
REC: Yes, yes.
PN: And that was the only store in town?
REC: That was the only store in town.
PN: People would generally buy most of their food there?
REC: Bought all of their food, and most of their clothes, and everything right there.
PN: Would many people raise gardens?
REC: Yes, just about everybody; everybody raised a garden. See, that was back right in the, right in the middle of the Depression. They had no work, practically no work at all in the summertime; there's no coke made. And in the wintertime, they felt pretty good if they got two or three days work a week there, yes.
PN: What did people raise in their gardens usually?
REC: Well, just all kinds of vegetables corn, beans, tomatoes, things like that. And they raised some fine, although it was very steep on the hillside, people had their gardens there, and they raised fine produce.
PN: On the hillside was where most people had their gardens?
REC: There wasn't any other place for them to have them.
PN: Were the gardens the people raised, they wouldn't necessarily be right next to their homes, but…
REC: No, sometimes they were half a mile or so away; I knew some of them that had their gardens half a mile or so from their home.
PN: Really? Would any people keep hogs, or cows, or any animals?
REC: No, there was one family that I knew that kept a cow for, well, I think they finally got rid of the cow. Now that was one thing, there was no fresh milk there; everybody used condensed milk that they got out of the store. There was, of course, no fresh milk of any kind after this one family got rid of the cow.
PN: Did people fish in the river?
REC: Oh yes, yes. And that's still is one of the best fishing parts of New River, they say, right in the area of Sewell.
PN: What did people generally catch?
REC: Different kinds of catfish and, of course, they caught some pike and, not trout, but, I 've forgotten the other fish that was caught. But the catfish was the main; they'd put what they call trotlines across the river, and have hooks on these lines.
PN: Trotlines?
REC: Uh huh. And they would go every morning and raise their lines,
they called them, and take the fish off. Sometimes they would, I 've seen, oh, 30 or 40 pound mudcats. And, of course, they had other catfish too bluecats and channel cats but the mudcat was the biggest and ugliest one.
PN: It could weigh 40 pounds?
REC: Oh yes, yes. The fall of the year, they hunted ducks and geese.
Geese landed in there and, every once in a while, we'd find a, bag a good, big wild goose, different kind of ducks.
PN: When people would catch all of these fish, would they smoke them or salt them to preserve them in any way, or generally eat them?
REC: No, they'd just eat them. They weren't that, more plentiful I would say, one person caught more than it, they'd probably share them with their neighbors.
PN: Did people have refrigerators or ice boxes to preserve things?
REC: No; at that time the refrigerators were just beginning to come in,
the electric refrigerators. But most of the time, I would say, they didn't have an ice box because there's no ice plants or anything, no way of
getting ice around there. So in the summertime, I t d say, just have to get along without, maybe have a spring house or a place, you know, a cool place, a cooler place than usual to keep their milk and stuff. We really didn't have milk, of course. Outside, the main thing would be the meat and fishes, you see, so we'd just have to use that up.
PN: What did the town look like? There were no roads, I guess.
REC: No, no roads, just wide paths, I would say, or walking. Now back years before, probably around 1900, there was a road went across the mountain from over about Layland, the top of the mountain at Lay land, across there to Sewell. And they had a ferry at the river, and it went on up to Fayetteville. I 've forgotten what the name of this road was, maybe the old state road, it seems to me. And you could still see that it went right through the middle of the town, where it hadn't been used.
It had originally been a wagon road.
The wagons would come into Sewell then?
REC: That's right, yes. You could see, I was down there this last summer, and there's a jeep, probably a fisherman, that comes down off the mountain to the river, or almost to the river, a jeep or a four—wheel drive truck, I saw one of them down there. Of course, now I 've drived down through the park, down through the park to, oh, within half a mile of Sewell, and walk on in.
PN: In the town, where were the coke ovens located, in relation to the homes?
REC: Well, they were located east of the homes. The homes were, really started just about the, just almost at the end of the coke ovens.
[Brief interruption as package is delivered to the door.]
PN: You were discussing the coke ovens and where they were located.
REC: Yes. They extended all, I would say, half a mile on up the river
from the town. And 1 think they had about, as well as I remember, about 125 ovens.
PN: What kind of atmosphere did that create in the in terms of, how did it look?
REC: Well, when those coke ovens were going, why it was very smoky, it was
a kind of Pittsburgh; the place was very, a lot of smoke. People that
suffered quite a bit from sinus in the wintertime; I know I had a seige with it every year.
PN: You did? Why in the winter more than the summer?
REC: Well, it was just damper and colder; and perhaps too, there was more
coal smoke in the air because there were, made more coke in the wintertime
than in the summer. And it’s just cold, damp air off the river, you see.
Now I could go back up to my home up at the top of the mountain; and in
two or three days time, my sinus was gone. Just the difference in the atmosphere .
PN: Did it snow a good deal in the winters?
REC: No. It was very seldom to where you got a big snow down there. Just many times you would look up along toward the top of the canyon, and see where the snow came down part way; but down at Sewell, you wouldn't have any snow, even in the winter. And of course, never, as well as I remember, we never had drifted snows like we have up here in the higher elevation. Because It's sheltered there; both sides of the mountain, you see, is right in.
PN: What, were there any, was there any type of gas or electric lighting at that time?
REC: Well yes, the electric, electric lighting. But as far as the town was concerned, there was none at the town; I don't recall of any light posts or anything in the town; maybe at the store and at the railroad station. But outside of that, if you went anywhere at night, you usually carried your flashlight with you to see your way.
PN: But there were lights in the homes?
REC: Lights in the homes, yes, electric lights in the homes.
PN: You said that people, or that many people, had radios. What types of programs did people listen to, or did they enjoy?
REC: Well, it's varied. A lot of people, of course, just liked the Western, but a lot of people, of course you didn't have the choice then as we have today. Just the AM radio; you very seldom ever got a good radio program outside of the Western and Uncle Dave Makin type of music and so on. The Grand Old Opry, I remember on Saturday night, that was one of the favorites of everybody. And news, of course, that was the important thing. And of course, a few programs like Amos and Andy, and that type of shows is what they listened to.
PN: Where would they pick up the radio Stations from?
REC: Well, at that time, there wasn't any stations in this area. Cincinnati; and KDKA, 1 guess that's Pittsburgh; I suppose there was a station probably in Charleston and Huntington. But at Oak Hill, I don't remember, I don't believe Beckley stations had come on at that time, the time that I was down there.
PN: Where did they pick up the Grand Old Opry from, WSM from Nashville?
REC: Yes, WSM, Nashville.
PN: There are sometimes 1 can pick that up now.
REC: Yea. Of course, everybody had their aerial, something like the television aerials, except they had to have an outside wire, usually about 50 or 100 feet long from, running into their house, and a lead wire from that to their radio.
PN: Did the long lead wire help them pick up…
REC: Yes, that gave them a better, better reception. Oh, it wasn’t until a good many years after that, that radios first started coming out that you didn't have to have an outside aerial.
PN: Inside the homes we were talking about the gardens before —— did people cultivate or keep any plants in their homes often?
REC: I just, 1 don't recall. I 'm sure that they would, because the people were interested in flowers. Most of the homes, or a lot of the homes had flowers in the summertime, you know.
PN: Outside?
REC: Outside, yes. So I’m sure that they would have some would have had flowers. But I don't recall any particular ones.
PN: If you could think of a typical family unit, how many people would be living in the homes of a typical family in Sewell? If there was such a thing?
REC: Well, I don't know as there were any families that you could say were typical. Now I know, going back to school, I had sometimes three children in a family. I had one family that had five children that I recall. There were, at that time I would say that, you could say there were fairly large families, but they ranged from two to five, about the most that I recall.
PN: You said you had about 40 children in the school?
REC: That's right.
PN: What grades did you teach, all the grades from first through
REC: From the first through eighth, yes. I usually had, there was two rooms, 1 had another teacher; I called her the primary teacher. She taught the, oh maybe the first, second, and third. And I would teach the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth. Or it just depended; I would try to divide them fairly even.
PN: There were two teachers?
3
REC: Two teachers, yes. But I remember I would sometimes have the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth; and sometimes the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth, depending on the numbers. And of course, you had grown chi 1, people, or from, people from the six—year olds up to, had them 16— or 17—year olds.
PN: Did most of the adults who lived there know how to read?
REC: Oh yes, yes, yes. They, I don't recall, don’t remember right now of any people that could not read. Of course, that was a big pastime, reading.
PN: I was going to ask you about that too.
REC: I found that children there read many more books, and were more
interested in reading than they were anywhere else. And they read, Of course 1 think I had them to read a book a month to report on at school.
And they were avid readers.
PN: What types of books would you assign?
REC: Well, just, of course we had a state—adopted lists of recommended books, you know, for our libraries. And of course, that type of book that we had in the library, selected for different grades, you know. It was largely the same as, as you, we used to have up until a few years ago Tom Sawyer, and Huckleberry Finn, and the fairy tales, Anderson's fairy tales. And for the primary, there was Nixie Bunny, and all the bunny stories, for the primary children.
PN: What types of materials did most of the adults read at that time?
REC: Just mostly newspapers and magazines. Everybody took magazines, had different magazines. As far as reading any books, I don't think, because they wouldn't have access to them. Maybe some of the families, the better—off families, had some books of their own; but most of them did not.
PN: Where would they get the newspapers from?
REC: They would get them from the news butch on the local train that Stopped there. That was the only way that we had of getting daily news— papers. But on Sunday morning, everybody would go to the station to get the Charleston Gazette, and the news butch, and anything else that he had, he had all kinds of things to sell them apples and oranges and bananas.
PN: This was a guy who came in on the train?
REC: Yea, yea. See, each train had what they called the news bitch, butch.
PN: Butch?
REC: Butch, yea. And he had a little corner on one of the trains that he sold his wares —— candy, and chewing gum, and cigarettes, and all kinds of things like that. He would make his rounds through the trains, you see, and then when he come to a stop like Sewell, why, he'd bring his stuff, or maybe just have his window open, and people would get their papers and things out of the window while it was waiting there.
PN: He'd come through every day?
REC: Oh yes.
PN: So you'd get the daily papers then that same day.
REC: Back at that time, when I was there, C & O Railroad had four trains stop there each day from, two eastbound and two westbound. And they were called local trains; they stopped at practically every station -- Sewell, Fire Creek, Beury, and just every place that there was a sign, why, they would stop. At Sewell, that was one of the big things of the day; and in the evening, people would go to meet the train, the Number Eight, it was the westbound train that came in about, oh, around seven o'clock, just after people had eaten their evening meal. And many people go to the station to see the people come in. And I might add too that the children in school, whenever they finished school at Sewell, finished the eighth grade and got their diploma, why they had to ride the train to high school. Part of them from Sewell went to Montgomery, and to Ansted. And they would leave home in the morning, this morning train ran about seven o' clock; and they would get back in about seven that night. They had about a twelve—hour day for them. The board of education, I think, since they didn't have a high school, why they provided the railroad fare for the children going to these schools.
PN: Was the Charleston Gazette the main paper that people read, or did they get papers from other
REC: The Charleston Gazette was the one that I remember. Now there might have been a Huntington paper, cause this Number Fourteen, they call it, westbound, it originated, I believe, in Huntington. Huntington, or maybe
Cincinnati; I believe it was Huntington though.
PN: The train was coming east?
REC: Coming east, yes, no, this Fourteen started in Cincinnati. So it might have, I believe you probably have had the Cincinnati Post and some Huntington papers too, along with the Gazette.
PN: Was that primarily a coal train?
REC: No, that was a passenger train, strictly a passenger train. And of course, mail; they carried the mail and a certain amount of baggage like a piece of furniture, or something like that, see, would come on one of those trains.
PN: types of magazines would people subscribe to or get? Would they buy them on the trains, or get them in the mail?
REC: They'd subscribe for a lot of papers, but I wouldn't know just what the magazines were. Back in those days, there was one news magazine that just about everybody took that was called the Pathfinder. And just about everyone interested in national news took the Pathfinder; it was something like U.S. News or Time, like that. And of course, there were some magazines, the romance magazines, them too.
PN: Did people keep pets often, like cats or dogs?
REC: There were some dogs, but not too many. I imagine probably feeding them was a big; back in the Depression days, food would go to the children instead of dogs.
PN: Just a couple of more detailed questions here. When you think of the furnishings that people had in their homes, say for lamps, what did the lamps look like that they had? What types of lamps did they have?
REC: Well, they were very similar to lamps, present lamps; they had table lamps, electric lamps, and then they had the floor—stand lamps.
They were just the same order as what we have today.
PN: How about the chairs and sofas; would they be similar too?
REC: Similar, yes. They had more, I don't believe, they didn't have the heavy, stuffed furniture then that we have now. They had, of course, every house had a rocking chair or two. And more wood than the chairs and furniture that we have today.
PN: Did the women ever do things like make soap?
REC: No, no, I never knew of any of them doing that. Of course, for one reason, they wouldn't probably have the fat to make it then. They 'd just kind of go on the, especially in the towns, it would be the regular store—bought soap. Now back out in the rural areas, or farming areas, I can remember of people saving their fat and so on, and making soap. 1 can remember home—made soap. I don't think my mother ever made any, but I have an aunt that made home—made soap. And of course, apple butter, that was a big time of the year.
PN: I guess it's just about to run out.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Davis, Clifford 1980
Coal mining, Kaymoor 1933-1961, layout of Kaymoor, mining operations
PN: To start off Mr. Davis, maybe I could ask you when you were born and where you were born?
CD: I was born October the 19th, 1903 in Boyd County, Kentucky. And a little post office then, they called it Malaty. That's long since been eliminated. But now it's Catlettsburg, Route 2.
PN: And how long did you live there?
CD: Well, I grew up there, and married in that country.
PN: When did you first start working in the coal mines?
CD: When I was 17, a little past 17 years old.
PN: Was that up there in that area of Kentucky?
CD: Yea, that was in Kentucky. Yes sir.
PN: When did you finally stop working there in Kentucky, and come over here to West Virginia?
CD: Well, they shut that mine down, and I didn't come over to West Virginia at that time. I went up Tug River, and worked at Norfolk and Western — Chattaroy.
PN: Over in Mingo County [West Virginia].
CD: Mingo County. I done all right there.
PN: In the coal mines?
CD: Yea, loaded coal. Then I left there and went to Hardy, Kentucky to Fordson Coal Company. Fordson paid a little better money. And worked there three years. Then the Depression come along. And I went back to Kentucky. Then I just went over here from, up in Logan County. And I'd work a little while at this mine, a little while it's shut down. And right there during for about three years in there, it was really hard to get a job. Then 1 had a friend that had worked here at Kaymoor. And he come back here and got a job, Jim Bates, and he told his brother that they were hiring men here at Kaymoor. So we, all worked the same place, so we - whole bunch of us, about seven or eight of us - come here and got a job.
PN: Was that from Logan County?
CD: No, out of Kentucky.
PN: Out of Kentucky?
CD: Yea. I’d bought a little farm back in Kentucky, and was living on it. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have made it during the Depression.
PN: What was the year you finally came over to Kaymoor?
CD: 1933, November the 8th. And I wasn't going, I didn't intend to stay here too long. But my wife wasn't going to go back to Kentucky.
PN: Why? Did she like Kaymoor?
CD: Well, yes, she seemed to like it. She just didn't like Kentucky. And so I started bettering my position, little bit. Started doing various jobs. So after I made my papers at Charleston, the mine boss one day run on to me and wanted to know if I 'd like to have a job being called a "rascal." You know that's what they called the bosses. You know, they call—, the bosses didn't have too good a name. I told him, the mine boss was Jerry Kerr, and I told him that I'd always try, was always my intention to better myself. "Well,” he said, “we've been a giving you some thought.” So in about, oh I'd say, eight or ten weeks, he told me he had a job for me. And I worked, took this section that they had a boss on. And I guess I must have improved it satisfactorily because they was showing my motor reports to other people. And, now I didn't get this straight from them, but some of the other section bosses was telling me about it. Then,
PN: What was the year you became a section boss?
CD: '35.
PN: That's just two years after you came to Kaymoor?
CD: Yea. And I, about 36, they give me another section. But seemingly, I always got those run—down ones. And there was a lot of hard work to get them straightened up. Then I, I had, I went in, the state was a'quarreling a little bit about having a non—certified man down in the bottom end of 16 Right in the mines, non—certified. And it was a little bit, you could find a little gas every once in a while. And they wanted somebody there that, that could be held responsible for that. So they sent me down there. Then they moved me up from there to assistant night boss. And night shift was as big as the day shift.
PN: Were there two shifts at that time?
CD: Yes, but the night shift was as big as the day shift, see. Then after, some how or other, there'd come a little Depression along there, just before the war.
PN: This was about 39?
CD: Yea, '38, '39. And they cut off all the night shift. And told me to tell everyone, to get all the coal I could. Then tell every man to load his tools on his car; that [was] back in the days they bought their own tools. And so — "That means you too.” That's, the next day, they, they told me that I'd go back on the section that I was on when I went on the other, on the other job. Then when they started picking up again, I went back on [as] assistant mine foreman on day shift. And by that time, they had changed mine foremens. Jerry Kerr had left, and O. D. Keaton was mine foreman. Then they kept moving along, and as Keaton went to Lay land — they moved him to Layland and brought a fellow in there by the name of Bill Burgess. That's one of the land company's brothers, fellow that looked at, Virgil still works for the company, I think, or did. And I was his assistant. And then eventually he, he went somewhere else, and I went on as mine foreman.
PN: What year was that?
CD: I think I went on as mine foreman about '46, in there.
PN: And you said you were mine foreman until the mine shut down?
CD: No, I was, then out from '46, then when Mr. Burgess left — I might have misquoted a little there — when he left in about four years there, in '49 1 went on as superintendent. I guess I was the only fellow that had ever worked as temporarily superintendent 12 years. [laughs] The division superintendent told me when Mr. Burgess left, he knew I could look after. And said Mr. Kerr over in McDowell County, the head man, might have somebody else to put in here.
PN: What was that company that owned it?
CD: New River and Pocahontas Consolidated Coal Company.
PN: And when did, when did the mine finally close permanently?
CD: In '61. That's when it worked out.
PN: Were you still working, you were still there then as superintendent?
CD: I was still there.
PN: In ’61?
CD: Yes sir. That's a, I was there in 61 and, till it, till it worked out. That would, that would have been twenty—, 28 years I worked, worked at that company.
PN: Were there still a lot of homes in Kaymoor at the time the mine worked out?
CD: Yes, there were. Now this here Kaymoor bottom camp, they had done away with it. But the top, they were all up there. Then they started selling the houses, and tearing them down. Now there's still you don't have it, but I've got it [referring to photographs I had with me, all of which he had plus others] — one group of houses there that's all of them still intact.
PN: On the top?
CD: On the top. They've sold them to all the people, and there's still some houses in what they call down in the holler that's still there.
PN: But at the bottom, by the river, all the houses there are gone?
CD: All, all gone.
PN: What was the year that those were gone by?
CD: Well, let's see. I can't say exactly, but I 'd say about six years before the mine closed in 61 about '55.
PN: The bottom was…
CD: Yea. What they begin to look at was, that if they kept this bottom open, they'd have to keep that haulage. So they, they were going to get them all out of there before the mine worked out. Se we started, every time we'd have a empty house on top, we'd bring somebody out.
PN: From the bottom?
CD: And Minden, we'd send em to Minden. Till eventually they all come out of there. And that was all before, two or three years before the mine shut down. They didn't want to come out of there; they'd been there all their lives. [laughs]
PN: In this time, were there both Black and white miners living there?
CD: Yes, 44% of Kaymoor labor was Black.
PN: Really?
CD: Yes sir.
PN: Was that when you were the superintendent?
CD: Yea, and everybody else, I guess. And they were good labor. Ain't no, wasn't any difference between the Black man's labor and a white man. Maybe the white man a little sneakinger. [laughs] And a Black man wouldn't lie on the other. He wouldn't want to tell the truth. He, he want, he wouldn't, you know, he didn't want to get in, his fellow man involved. So, what I mean by that — we had lots of cases of John Brown claims he's short, or John Brown done this, or entitled to this or that. But now if you brought it right down to it, talking to the Committee and all, why they, if you 're going to bring in a witness, sometimes you, you'd be going to be doubtful whether you 're going to win that case or not. [laughs] Whether, you didn't want to win it, you just wanted it to be like it was. I never wanted to win a case. I just wanted to do like it was. And I got along pretty well all my years of section foreman and mine foreman and superintendent. I can brag a little; I had one of strike.
PN: Really, is that all?
CD: That's all. Wasn't over nothing at the mines. They got struck one day over a coal haulage. Some of these fly—by—night haulers would haul a little cheaper, see, in the summertime. But in the wintertime, if there come a right big snow, and they couldn't get there, then they wanted this fellow that'd been hauling it all the time, he'd have, put a coal hauler in at the office, want him to deliver it. And he would. But he had to have more for that. He'd send a man out, maybe get hung up, and be there half a day, you know. But where this other fellow got all the cream he was hauling. That, that was the only time that we ever had a one—day shut—down in my years there.
PN: You were talking before about the top camp and the bottom camp. Did Black and white miners live in both places?
CD: Both places. Now they were, this part of the mine I'm a'talking about, or camp [correcting himself] that's still out there, they were all white. But down at the bottom, and all the other houses there; now I don't know, I can't answer for No. 2, because all them out there when I came here were, were white. But they had done shut that mine down, it'd been down for quite some time; and by the time I, I'd say it'd take me five or six years to learn all about No. 2 and the things there, whether I was, I don't know how many Blacks were over there now, I couldn't…
PN: That was Kaymoor No. 2?
CD: Yea, that was, there was a camp over there. Now that's right at the edge of the bridge, on this end, you see. Now they also had houses down at the bottom, right where Wild Water Unlimited gets out. There was a bunch of houses in there. They had houses and, but who were there, the only thing I do know is that a fellow the name of Dan Stull was mine foreman.
PN: Stole?
CD: Stull, S-t-u-l-l, He was mine foreman at No. 2.
PN: You were saying before that they used to have coke ovens at Kaymoor bottom.
CD: They had 163 beehive coke ovens.
PN: And what year did they close down? And why?
CD: '35; market, competition. You see, the, the oil people started making coke. And the chemical people started taking everything out of coal they could get out of it; then they had coke, as a drug. And if, let's just use my company for instance. Let's say our salesmen go up, we’ll say they want $7.00 a ton. Here comes along this oil company or chemical company with their coke: "Well Lord, we can sell you that for three dollars and a half." What they was doing was throwing it away.
PN: Oh, so they…
CD: See, and that put the coke oven, the coal—mine coke out of business. The last one that I know of on the river that ran was up here at Sewell. They made coke up there for a goodly number of years, even after the war.
PN: Oh really? When did the Sewell coke ovens finally shut down forever?
CD: Well I'm not right sure on that.
PN: In the fifties probably?
CD: Yea, probably. It was after the war.
PN: Were the people that worked on the coke ovens, were they mostly Black, or…
CD: No, they was everything. They was both kinds.
PN: They both [were] on the coke ovens?
CD: Yes sir, both of em.
PN: Were people who worked on the coke ovens, were they members of the United Mine Workers?
CD: Well, let's see.
PN: Or not?
CD: Yea, they would have been, because the union came in about '33. And by '35, they would have all been on the pay—, on the union payroll. But before that, they weren't. Now I understand they were organized in the twenties and back. But I, that's history to me. I wouldn't, I wouldn't know about that.
PN: Would the coke oven workers belong to the same local union as the coal miners?
CD: Yes, all belonged to the same union. Yes sir.
PN: You were mentioning before about the haulage. Was that that track that came down from the top of the mountain to the bottom?
CD: Yes, that delivered everybody. That brought supplies to the mine; that brought sand to the mine; brought rock dust to the mine; it brought coal to the top of the hill for the miners; and everything.
PN: Where was the mine located? In between the top and the bottom?
CD: Yea, yea, about, let's see, get that haulage, get that one that's got that incline [referring to photograph label led: “Mountain Haulage, Kaymoor Mine No. 1, Jan. 1920"].
PN: This one?
CD: This one. You see this building right here?
PN: The building in the middle?
CD: Yea, right here. That track runs right around through here.
PN: Is that where the mine…?
CD: That was the mine level.
PN: That's where the driftmouth was located?
CD: Yea, yes sir. I wrote a jingle about, I'm a little bit bad about writing jingles. And I wrote one about that when I first come here.
PN: You did?
CD: We'd set up here on top and watch, look down the hill. And that was the busiest thing I ever saw. I’d never seen nothing like it, you know. Here would go a mainline motor going out the shop track. Here would go one with empties off to the slate run. Here went a car dropping out a load down at the bottom tipple. Here went a empt—, an empty coming in. And here was the coke extractor going around. And here was the beehive out there loading em. And here'd come in the shifter. And I never seen so much. [laughs] And you, and that was the prettiest little camp to stand on the top of the hill and look at, you know. So I wrote one that stayed there in that haulage I don't know, till somebody got it, I don't know. What a busy little, what a busy mining town Kaymoor was. Look at that, that was, of course that was just some of my foolishness. Then I went in there last fall, a year ago, and came back. And I wrote one after it tore down. [laughs]
PN: Let me just ask you a couple of more things about this [the same photograph]. So the mine itself was located midway?
CD: Yea, that's right.
PN: And what's this down here, the bottom tipple [referring to the photograph label led: "West Side Monitor Trestle, Kaymoor Mine No. 1, Jan. 1920"].
CD: That's the bottom tipple. Now let's see, that's
PN: Is that the headhouse?
CD: That's the headhouse.
PN: Where was that located?
CD: That's right at the coal seam.
PN: Right at the driftmouth, right?
CD: Yea, the coal, the mo tor come right out through here, went across the dump and backswitched [now discussing photograph label led: "Headhouse ,Mine No. 1, Kaymoor, W. Va., Jan. 1920].
PN: So it came out of the driftmouth…?
CD: Yea.
PN: Into the headhouse?
CD: Out a piece, and they had a switch there, and switched him back.
PN: Did it drop the coal at that time, when it was inside the headhouse?
CD: Yea, coal was, when he cut loose of his trip, and got switched out of the way, the coal started, they had a kicker bring 'em right on out and dump em.
PN: Did the car tip over?
CD: No, end dump, end dump.
PN: End dump?
CD: End dump.
PN: So they tipped it up like that [indicating an angle with my hands]?
CD: That's right.
PN: And what happened here? Did the coal then go down to the bottom tipple?
CD: Well, you see how it sloped there [referring to the down—hill side of the headhouse]?
PN: Yea.
CD: Well, does it show that, yea, that monitor? That's the monitor.
PN: Right at the bottom of the picture?
CD: Yea. Now he, he takes one right on down, he takes it right on down. Now this was in the twenties. Now this, this was rebuilt, this part. They tell me that part burnt down, and then they put up a modern — at that day [now referring to photograph of the "West Side Monitor Trestle"].
PN: This was the monitor trestle burnt down?
CD: This whole trestle and this structure [on left of photograph].
PN: The bottom tipple?
CD: Yea, the whole, this one. That whole thing burnt down.
PN: That would be the bottom tipple?
CD: Yea, that's the bottom tipple.
PN: Along the mainline C. and O. down there?
CD: Yea, down to the mainline. And I think, they tell me, now I don't, I 'm not, I've asked fellows, that they built a chute from the top down and run coal till, till they got this tipple fixed. They run coal right on to keep the coke ovens going. That, then they built this other.
PN: The coke ovens were right down near the river on the bottom too, right?
CD: Yea, they're not, just above the railroad a little bit. You see, see this locomotive right there [referring to photograph label led: "Coke Ovens, Looking West, Kaymoor, W. Va., Jan. 1920"]?
PN: In the picture of the coke ovens? Yea. What, is that New River?
CD: Yea, that's New River. If you turn that off [Mr. Davis left the room for a moment to get his own collection of photographs, which included some I did not have prints of. He also had clearer copies of all the prints I did have with me.]
PN: One of the pictures showed boxcars under the tipple of Kaymoor No. 2. Why did they use boxcars?
CD: Well, to keep the coal dry. Maybe they were going to ship it to Canada, or maybe they were going to ship it up in Maine, maybe they were going to ship it up Michigan somewhere where they wanted dry coal. And they put it in a boxcar.
PN: Did you have to load them differently from regular coal cars?
CD: Well, you had to get em in balance. You had to put as much in one end as you did in the other, cause it was, different.
PN: And you used a conveyor to load them?
CD: We had a little conveyor for that purpose, designed for that purpose.
PN: To load boxcars?
CD: You put your best, we had the, we used the old coke—oven's bin that come down to load this coke, that fit, that went down here and dropped the coke in the beehive oven. We used that bin, and we'd keep bug dust — or slack, we called it bug dust, we'd keep it in there for this particular purpose.
PN: To load into the boxcars?
CD: To load in boxcars. And we had this little conveyor attached, so we could load it. And whenever they wanted one, why, you don't want, you don't want to lose any business, so if he wants a boxcar and you can load it, why you load it.
PN: You were talking about the truck that moved people up and down the haulage. How did that operate? Was that on electric power?
CD: Yea. It had a big drum on top of the hill, and it was 2,300 feet of track. And it was about 2, 500 feet of dr—, of rope; you know, enough rope on there to give it, so it wouldn't be any danger of it pulling out. And the truck held 18 men, men coming to work.
PN: And there was only one truck that operated on the haulage?
CD: The one truck, that's all. It'd take 18 down and would take 18 up.
PN: And that would bring people both from the top camp and the bottom camp to the driftmouth?
CD: Yes, yes sir. Generally there wasn't as many men at the bottom. It 'd make, of a morning, and of evening, it'd make two trips to the top of the hill and one to the bottom. That was the ratio of equality to get the men up and down the hill.
PN: What did that truck look like?
CD: Well, it looked like a, a small made boxcar, you know, with trucks under it [trucks here meaning small and strong wheels] with all sides off. And then put small, just put a small sides on it. And them sides, you could them off.
PN: You could?
CD: Yea, you'd take the sides off. And they dropped down in loops, you know. And you 'd take em off, because if you load it up with heavy timber, well, you'd want to roll it off. And then that had a permanent end. And this back end up here was open all the, all the time.
PN: The short end was open?
CD: One where the rope hooked on.
PN: And people would get to the truck from that end?
CD: Yes, they got on from that end.
PN: When the truck was about halfway down the mountain, where the tracks coming out of the mine were, how did that go over that? Did it…
CD: Well it…
PN: Was it elevated there?
CD: No, this mine track, this was just went over the top. Your motors and everything could go under it.
PN: Oh, so it was, it was the…
CD: It was designed so that this track was high enough that your motors could go on to the shop, come from the shop, and things like that.
PN: So the truck actually would go over the track then that the…
CD: Well, it went over the mine track; actually it was high enough to do that. It wasn't, just, just designed, you know, the track was over agin the hill, you see. And when it come off here, why the motor over there when it landed, here where the men were going to get off, why your motors still could operate all right. You just, if there was a motor a'coming, men had to watch or be careful.
PN: But one could go under the other, or not?
CD: One…
PN: Was the track that the motor from the mine was running on, was that a different track?
CD: They were different tracks. They weren't, this track [that] come out of the mine, it didn't have nothing to do with this haulage.
PN: OK, yea, OK.
CD: It didn't have anything to do with that part of it.
PN: Were any other tracks going, going down the hill of any kind?
CD: They had monitor track.
PN: A monitor track?
CD: That's all.
PN: And the monitor was totally separate from the haulage?
CD: Oh yes. Now the monitor hauled over from this big head—, this headhouse we call it. Now that monitor, let me get it, let me get [looking among his photographs]. A monitor hauled [short break in recording]. A monitor when loaded, it'd hold about the present—day monitor when the mine shut down - would hold about six ton. Now this load pulled the empty back up, it was a double track. And when it pulled that empty back up, it went under a chute over on the other side where, where its track was. There was two, two chutes there to load on. And you would, this one would load on this side; and when it dumped, when it got down to the bottom, they went over some “knuckles." And they had some "ears" on the side of them door, that door. And when it went over that knuckle, it raised that door up, and the coal went out.
PN: So the mine cars brought the coal out of the driftmouth in, into the headhouse, and the headhouse…?
CD: They went, we had a, right here, there was a “creeper" we call it.
PN:A "creeper"?
CD: Yea, we call it a creeper; it had "dogs" on it. And it operated all the time. One of them cars went over the dump and come back, then went up on this track. And these dogs just kept 'em a’going.
PN: What were "dogs"?
CD: Well, we called em; they were catches. We called 'em dogs, but they set, if the car had a spring in it, it would spring down till the car got over it. And then when it, it'd catch it catch the wheel, either front or back of the car, you see, and keep it a'going right on up. And the next one come along, it would do the same thing.
PN: And it would dump the coal out at the top?
CD: The coal was already dumped out of that, see. It was dumped over here with the, down where they come out of the driftmouth here. And he dumped in the chute. But these empties, then the mainline has done switched around all this. See they brought this up here, high enough when it come out here, they brought it up high enough…
PN: Coming out of the driftmouth?
CD: Yea, so that this motor could go, come on out here and go around, and then, they didn't have…
PN: Did the motors actually go inside the headhouse?
CD: They went down a piece.
PN: And then they'd switch back?
CD: And then they'd switch back; they didn't go clear over.
PN: Was there a big cement structure or something inside the headhouse where they…
CD: No, it was out of heavy wood.
PN: Heavy wood?
CD: And they kept heavy sheet metal on it. Every once in a while, you 'd have to put a new sheet on it.
PN: But the coal then, from the headhouse, would go into these monitors, right? And the monitors would bring them [ the coal] down to the…
CD: Take it to the tipple.
PN: And then that was the mainline…?
CD: Now this, this, what I was going to say about this, now this old thing here burnt down.
PN: That old monitor track.
CD: Now the monitor at that time, they tell me, run clear out here.
PN: That was the, 19—, back in 1920.
CD: '20. But now when I came here, the monitor landed right there, and they had belt conveyor and steel trestle to come out here to the tipple.
PN: So, so back then, the monitor came all the way out to the actual bottom tipple?
CD: The monitor come clear out here.
PN: But later when, when you were there, it stopped and…?
CD: When, after this burnt down, when they rebuilt it, they put in a belt conveyor from the, right, right there out. And you had another, there’s another bin down here then. And it held, it held something like 60 ton, and this one here, up here, held about 150 ton.
PN: The bin at the headhouse?
CD: Yea.
PN: Right around the headhouse, in one of these pictures, there's a, is there another small structure or tipple of some kind near the headhouse? Or was that the only building there?
CD: Well, they had this building and the shop.
PN: That was where they repaired the equipment?
CD: Now in late years, they built right over behind this a mine foreman’s superintendent 's office and a lamphouse.
PN: Oh, that was up Coward the hill?
CD: Yea, right agin' the hill. Now around the hill, where we was talking about these motors would run, they had a shop, repair shop and they would repair. What they done when, what they done, they didn't build a building. They had such a huge structure around there the mule barn. They just made a pit in that there, and poured it out of concrete, and used that mule barn redesigned it, so they could work on motors and things.
PN: Oh really?
CD: That's what, what they actually done.
PN: Oh, so it used to be a mule barn?
CD: Yea, it used to be the mule barn.
PN: And when did they redesign it?
CD: Well, you done asked, redesigned, it was redesigned when I was there. I would say after the begin to get motors.
PN: And there was a big concrete…
CD: Pit.
PN: Pit in there?
CD: Yea, that, that's where you go down and get under and take the bolts out and your ax—, loosen your axles, and going to put new trucks under your motors and things like that, see.
PN: So when that was put in, the concrete pit was put in after it had been converted from the mule barn?
CD: Yea, from the mule, mule barn, yea.
PN: The mule barn was just a wood structure?
CD: Wood structure. Now that, that's what they actually did to that, see. Of course they, coal mine there, that same mine had many different days. At one time it was, it started out mechanically using a puncher.
PN: The mine?
CD: Yea, and they had a compressor house down at the bottom of the hill. But that didn't prove satisfactory very long. And then they come along with the breast machine, and that didn't last very long. And all them things just adding up till they got to where; by the, 1917, about half the coal that was mined on New River was still pick mining. And the only mine that I can find in that book over there [a state report on all coal mines] that was totally mechanical was Batchman down here. All the rest of them in 1917 primarily were pick mining. But what they was getting away from, the market had got so bad, so many, so much fines on the market, there wasn't a market for all of it. So all these little mines put in coke ovens. That's why there's so many coke ovens up and down New River. That, that's like everything else. If you, you can over do that too. If you overdo putting in coal mines, you can overdo putting in coke ovens. About the game thing, you see. And that's what, that's what happened in all that.
PN: Let me just ask you a couple of other quick questions about the, around the driftmouth. Were there two driftmouth, or just one there?
CD: Well, you got one, there we had three.
PN: Three?
CD: Yea.
PN: And did they have any different purposes?
CD: Yea. One, your loads came out. One, your empties went back In. And one, your shop, went around to the shop.
PN: To bring in equipment?
CD: To take your motors, take in your sand, supplies you had to have it that way.
PN: So there were three different…?
CD: That's right,
PN: Did all the driftmouths connect to the main haulage, on the main haulage?
CD: Yea, they all op—, all different openings. There were three different openings.
PN: Did they eventually come together?
CD: Yes, they did. They eventually come up at the, what they called the dispatcher's shanty.
PN: Inside?
CD: Yea, eventually they come…
PN: How far inside was that?
CD: Oh I 'd say 400 feet, five. Right there then, that's where they all come together. And that's where your…
PN: Was there a big slate dump there at, on the top? Was there any slate dump there? Did they clean coal?
CD: Yes sir. Now, there's a fellow by the name of Joe Honeycutt from
Charleston, is over here salvaging that slate dump.
PN: Taking the coal that…
CD: And all he wants is the fines, he says. If you want to see something interesting, it's worth looking at.
PN: Watching him salvage the slate dump?
CD: Watching him salvage it. Now he don't, he got a big shaker. And back behind, it's a big end—loader. He just gets a big load of that slate, tree roots and all, and dumps it on there. And it shakes the big stuff off, and the fines go on this conveyor. Then it goes on out here, and it goes up, and it goes through another shaker. All fines go over here in a pile. And all that size goes out there in a pile.
PN: What, about as big as a nut?
CD: Yea. And all the rest of the slate goes out that way, the slate.
PN: Back then when you were, you know, working there, how did they, where did they clean the coal? Right in the headhouse, did they separate anything?
CD: Well, no, it was hand—loading. And the miner primarily cleaned it himself.
PN: So they had separate cars coming out with the slate?
CD: Yea, each car come out, it, we checked him close. And if it's too dirty, we sent it to the slate dump.
PN: Bow did you actually, but sometime a miner, when they were loading, would load an entire car of slate, or…
CD: Oh well, we had a slate hoist. That's what I’m talking about. Now Elmore, the people were dumping alongside of the mountain.
PN: But you couldn't there?
CD: But it was going to the, the C. and O. was kicking. It was sliding down on them, in slide—, in piles. Maybe it was giving them a little trouble of their own there around the coke ovens, I 'm not sure. Then they went on top of the mountain.
PN: At Lowmoor?
CD: No, New River—Pocahontas. [I was confused at this point, thinking Lowmoor was the name of a town near Kaymoor.]
PN: At Kaymoor?
CD: Yea, about 19 and, oh let me say 29. And they started right down, so when they come out down through that hole, it would be on the ground level. And they just lay track right on down to the mines. And they laid a switch here slate would be here and they'd keep that slate scotched ["scotch" meaning to block with a chock] back, one car. And when they brought that, took that up there and dumped It, he'd drop this empty down. It went down under this tipple. And reach over here and get him another slate car, send it up the mountain.
PN: What, it was a hoist that got…
CD: There was another hoist over there.
PN: Where was that located? Was that located near that track for the truck?
CD: Right on, oh let me say it, eight or nine hundred feet, as the bird fly over.
PN: Yea, did it run on [the tape is interrupted briefly here, since this next section was re—recorded, the first discussion being so confusing]. So you were saying that, when the slate came out of the mine, it would go through the headhouse and then be brought on a track four or five hundred feet?
CD: It would, when it was, it was switched like this car, this man ['s] load [ed] motor come out. And he had 20 cars of coal, and he had five cars that of slate. We had a fellow/ switched them slates out on this track. And they went around on coal—seam level for about, If it [was] just one, it would go around there about 150 feet. And then he'd hook on to it, and take it up the top of the mountain.
PN: And that was the hoist?
CD: And it would go through the tunnel, yea, hook that rope, had about 800 foot of rope on it. And it'd go through this tunnel, dump in what we called a "larry" — that was [the] common name for it as far as I'm concerned. And then it'd go back, drop that empty back, go back down to the bottom, switch it on out on the empty track. Get him another slate. And that went on, routine, day after day.
PN: Was only one mine car full of slate hauled up at the same time?
CD: That's all they could handle.
PN: And you said the larry then could fit five or six mine cars?
CD: Yea, you just keep dumping in it, you see, till it loaded.
PN: And you said that one was a front—…?
CD: Yea, there's a
PN: An end—dump?
CD: End—dump was smaller.
PN: And a side—dump?
CD: Yea, it was smaller than the side—dump.
PN: Why were there two different ones?
CD: Well, you got to build track on out there. And this larry, dumping off the side, won't keep your track going. So you just keep dumping off the end with the end—dump. And if you get as far out as you're going to go with your end—dump, then [you] use your side—dump altogether. And that's the way that, that's the way that slate was handled.
PN: And you were saying that after the coke ovens shut down in 35, that they began dumping some slate on top of the ovens, where the ovens used to
CD: Yea, but that was, that, now that wasn't this mine slate. This was washer refuse.
PN: Oh, I see.
CD: But you see, we had a jig—washer down there. And everything above five— eight slack went through the washer. Whatever that jig—washer put out, they had a little old thing there that would load up, they'd load it with all this, come out of this slate box, take it down there and dump it.
PN: Over the coke ovens?
CD: Yea.
PN: So some of the coke ovens are covered up today?
CD: Now I'd say they are, yea.
PN: Let me ask you another thing. You mentioned before there used to be an iron mine at Lowmoor?
CD: At Lowmoor.
PN: Could you just say a few words about that?
CD: Well, I don't, I 've asked about it. Now I was told that they had 19 or 20 foot of iron ore. But it was such poor quality, see, that it wouldn't compete with a, this Mesabi Range iron ore; that, but this, they had just about had to go out of the iron ore business. They probably were small people, and hadn't enlarged as they went along. And that's what I say, that's what happens to many people, happened to many coal operators. He's little and he directly gets caught in the bind. Now that…
PN: Do you know what the name of the company was that owned the iron mine?
CD: The Lowmoor Iron Company, called the Lowmoor Iron Company.
PN: And where did that come from originally?
CD: Lowmoor.
PN: Lowmoor?
CD: Virginia.
PN: Was that, do you know when the iron mine opened and when it shut?
CD: No, I don't, but I'd say, I’d say it shut down maybe around fif—, going on when this company bought it New River and Pocahontas bought 'em out. It was around 1924 or 25. They just bought their coal reserves, see.
PN: But they were mining iron up until the mid—twenties maybe?
CD: Well probably, yea. And their coal, they had vast coal reserves here in this field; I believe they had 40,000 acres.
PN: Was this Lowmoor?
CD: Yea. That's the reason why New River and Pocahontas bought it. They might have, they might have been able to buy it at a broker's market, or saw it in a coal, in some of these journals that could be picked up, you see, and they just picked it out.
PN: Do you have any idea how many men worked at this iron mine when it was in operation?
CD: I, I wouldn't, I just wouldn't know.
PN: You said it was probably about a 20, 24 foot seam, or vein?
CD: Well, they said it was a pretty good height, from what the fellows told me. Now there was one or two men come from down there, two or three, that worked on the coke ovens. They come from down in there.
PN: And they had worked in the iron mines?
CD: I, I guess they had worked on something down there, and then they were transferred here. I know this hoisting engineer, I was told, started down there at Lowmoor. And he was on that hoist when, when I come here. you know when you're not too con—, you're busy with everything else, and you're not, it's not in your line of business [laughs], you forget to ask questions. [laughs] Isn't that right? You just forget to ask these things. Then you could ask a million.
PN: And how far was this Lowmoor, where this mine was, from Kaymoor?
CD: Well, I went by there. It's down, it's on the, what is that, Jackson River that goes by Covington; it's on down past there somewhere.
PN: How about this iron mine that, there was an iron mine though that was right near, near Kaymoor?
CD: No, no, no, it was down in Virginia.
PN: Oh, oh, oh, oh, it wasn't on the New River?
CD: Lowmoor, Virginia.
PN: It was over in Lowmoor there.
CD: Yea, it was, It was down in Virginia.
PN: But they owned the, but they owned the coal…
CD: They owned this coal reserve here. And the iron, they smelted it down there in Virginia.
PN: Virginia. And they were using the coal from New River in their iron…
CD: From here, yea.
PN: I see.
CD: The monitor come clear out here.
PN: But later when, when you were there, it stopped and…?
CD: When, after this burnt down, when they rebuilt it, they put in a belt conveyor from the, right, right there out. And you had another, there's another bin down here then. And it held, it held something like 60 ton, and this one here, up here, held about 150 ton.
PN: The bin at the headhouse?
CD: Yea.
PN: Right around the headhouse, in one of these pictures, there's a, is there another small structure or tipple of some kind near the headhouse? Or was that the only building there?
CD: Well, they had this building and the shop.
PN: That was where they repaired the equipment?
CD: Now in late years, they built right over behind this mine foreman's/superintendent's office and a lamphouse.
PN: Oh, that was up toward the hill?
CD: Yea, right agin' the hill. Now around the hill, where we was talking.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Derenge, William 1980 Part 1
Company Store Operator, Royal, Terry, Prince, Layland, Greenwood, early 1900's, mining explosions
PN: Mr. Derenge, maybe you could start off by saying what date that you were born and where you were born.
WD: I was born in Freeland, Pennsylvania in the year 1981. My father moved to West Virginia, oh about, 1900.
PN: What did your father do? Was he a coal miner?
WD: He was a coal miner, yea. And we were on Loup Creek, at Dunloup, just about a mile below Mt. Hope. It's a ghost town now. From there, he went down to Thurmond. He worked the mines in Thurmond. Of course, I was just a small lad then. He worked at Thurmond about over a year, and things didn't go right, so he went down to Red Ash.
PN: Your father? He went to Red Ash after Thurmond?
WD: Yea, he went to Red Ash. They had an explosion at Rush Run about a year before that. So he went to work about a year after that. And he worked at Red Ash about two years, I suppose.
PN: About two years?
WD: About two years, yea. Dad had a skift [meaning skiff] hand made, on the New River there. The water's quiet there along Fire Creek. And had them on that river about an hour's time, about half my time. 1 used to haul water. Water was scarce over on our side; I used to cross the river at Fire Creek and get a boiler full of water in the boat.
PN: You went across the river on this skiff?
WD: Across the river. And they had no system of delivering any coal. I recall one time, I went up to the tipple and carried it down, two buckets at a time — coal — and loaded up the skiff. And it was down, almost that much about water.
PN: What, about five inches?
WD: Mm. Go down there about a mile. And the same thing, I carried my buckets full up to the house.
PN: Of coal?
WD: Of coal, yea. After we was there about two years, my father was going up here to Prince, to Royal —— the mines was working. And after the first year, between the school times, I went to the mines and worked with him. That went on for about three years.
PN: So you started working in the mines yourself at Prince?
WD: Across the river from Prince.
PN: How old were you then?
WD: Let's see, I was about 11 years old.
PN: What was the year that you said you started working?
WD: Huh?
PN: What was the year when you started to work?
WD: 1902. Yes, I worked in 1902. Worked there on and off between the school terms about three years, till my father come out and got a piece of property, or farm, here at Springdale. And so we left Royal and went to Springdale, and he farmed one year. Then he went back to the coal mine, and of course, I went with him. The next place we went to work was Greenwood on Laurel Creek, and Brown was what it was called.
PN: Greenwood?
WD: Greenwood, or Brownwood.
PN: Or Brownwood?
WD: Yea.
PN: Where's that near, Layland?
WD: Yea, just about a mile below Layland, hardly a mile. Layland tipple was just inside of Greenwood tipple. Worked there about, I don't know, three or four years. That's where my father, he got seriously hurt in a slate fall, fell on him in the Greenwood Mines. So he went out of the mines for about a year. My father couldn't, he was almost paralyzed for about a year. So I asked if he was going back in the mines again, because in them days, there was no workmen's compensation or anything like that. You was all on your own. And so, we went back to Greenwood and went to work again. It was mostly what work I could do. He wasn't hardly able to do anything.
PN: He was hurt at the Greenwood Mine? Your father was hurt there?
WD: He was hurt there, yea. And so we worked there. And Lay land a t that time was called Gentry. It opened up and started working; my father tried to get a job there, but he knew the mine foreman they were old Pennsylvania buddies — he wouldn't hire him. Found out later they weren 't allowed to hire any of Mr. Brown's men, you know.
PN: Why?
WD: Well, they got a right—of—way ditions they wouldn't hire any of best men away from him. After he belonged to New River—Pocahontas, through their property under the con— his men. So they wouldn't take the found that out, we went to Minden, which that was Lay land then [?], and worked there two months, and then come back there, and he hired him right off. Told him he worked at Minden, so that was different.
PN: Do you remember what Royal looked like back in 1902 when you started working there?
WD: What?
PN: Do you remember what the town looked like then?
WD: Which, Layland?
PN: No, Royal.
WD: Well, Royal was just a, common old houses built with strips, boards up and down, strips. It was typical miners' houses of that day and time. Of course, now, Layland, they build pretty good houses there. Of course, there are not many of them left now; they tore down at least part of them after the mines worked down. I think there's only about a dozen or so left now.
PN: In Layland?
WD: Left down there. Well, I forget where I was now.
PN: How about Royal? When you lived in Royal in 1902, how many people lived there?
WD: Oh, I don't know, it wasn't very big. It worked, say, I expect 75, or between 75 and 100.
PN: How many homes were there there?
WD: Oh, I just can h: hardly recall. If I had a little more time I could say. You're going to have to shut it off for a while [referring to the tape recorder], and I can sit and tell you more accurate.
PN: We can come back to that later then if you want to. %at, when you lived in a place like Royal, what did people do there for entertainment or for fun?
WD: There weren't any. They didn't have any moving—picture show, till we was at Lay land, several years before the first moving picture, moving house, well, was at Lay land. That was around 1906 or 07.
PN: They did have a movie, they did have a moving picture house at Layland by 1907?
WD: Yea, about that time.
PN: Did they have bars or saloons around there then?
WD: Did they have what?
PN: Bars or taverns?
WD: Oh yes, they had a fellow, name was Alex Salveras, saloon just, just before you come into town. And he was kind of a pretty, pretty rough. Somebody done something he saw and didn't like it, he took a blackjack and beat 'em up and throwed ‘em out. That was the law of the land at that time. Coal, in these coal camps like, they only had what they called a detective. Nowadays, they call them Baldwin thugs, and so he was depending on them to keeping order, and keeping any organizers from coming in, and so on. If he got suspicious you was an organizer or something, he told you to get out of town. And if you didn't go, why he, he'd see you did go. he made you go.
PN: These detectives?
WD: Yea.
PN: Were they the Baldwin—Felts?
WD: The Baldwin—Felts, yea. This fellow, laat man there, they had a man there by the name of Payne there for a good while. And he got in bad with the company and they fired him. And a fellow by the name of Green…
PN: In between?
WD: Green, took his place.
PN: Green?
WD: Uh huh. He was, he was a more decent man than the other one. Payne tried to be hard—boiled.
PN: Where was this, this was at Layland?
WD: Layland, yes, along about 1907—08, along there. We worked from about
1907 till about 1912, I guess, on and off. I think my father [was on] the farm one year.
PN: When did, did you move from Lay land to Eccles?
WD: Eccles, I don't know where that come in. It was, I don't just remember what it was, which one. Now up at Eccles, I was on my own. I didn't work [with] my father along in there. So I worked till, Lay land, had for a buddy a German. And he got dissatisfied [with] Layland, so he talked me into going to Pennsylvania —— Hermanie, Pennsylvania. Talked like things, milk and honey up there. When he got up there, why he didn't [see] any milk and honey, and I didn't either. We worked about two weeks, and come back to West Virginia. First went to Logan; went to work, work us, a guy up there said he was only working one, two day a week.
PN: Where, in Logan?
WD: At Logan, yea. So we didn't even ask for a job. And someone told us Eccles was a good place to work. It was some 50 mile away from there on the Virginia Road [meaning the Norfolk and Western Railroad]. So we went to Eccles and got a job and went to work. And we done real well. We worked pillars and pick work. We worked there till, I don't know, spring one year, they got in a labor dispute, and the mines went on strike. And so, I didn't feel, I wasn't going to go back and go in there and what they call scab. So I left there and went out in the country in Springdale at home, and went to work in the woods.
PN: At Springdale?
WD: Springdale. I worked in the woods cutting timber until this thing was settled. And s o I went back to Eccles about, it must have been about 1913, and worked for some time. And on Mar—, April 28, 1914, No. 5 Eccles blowed up. And I was working No. 6. And No. 5 and 6 connect up with a "false—bottom shaft" they call it. And everyone that was around close to the shaft, blown all to hell. We was farther back, and when we was farther back, we could run into this after—damp and suffocated, but we got out.
[Afterdamp is a general term applied to the gasses present inside a mine after an explosion, usually meaning that there are dangerous quantities of carbon monoxide present, accompanied by a lack of oxygen. Carbon monoxide will produce collapse after an hour in concentrations of 0.12 — 0.16%, and will cause unconcsiousness within a few minutes in quantities of 0.5% or more.]
So we got out that same evening; we wait till about 6:00. They got, the explosion wrecked the cage; they got one of the cage, cages working. And so they lifted us all, all out. Well, I have a little story there. We come within, oh, 300 or 400 yards of the shaft bottom. They said the smoke's and fume’s so bad, didn't think we would make it. So they all stopped there. And there's three of us went back to our working—place to get some canvas something to build a barricade with, trying to stay away from the poison fumes. And while we was going back, well No. 5 blew up the second time.
PN: The same day?
WD: Yea. And so we just supposed that all them men close to the bottom of the shaft got killed. And we didn't want to [move] no more, so we barricaded ourselves off, close to where we was working. Cause the air was still clear up there, we got, there. And we stayed there till rescue party come after us. When they got down there, they found this bunch of men. And they wanted to know, was there anymore. They told them, "Yea, there's three men went back. Something must have happened to them. They never did come back. Course we didn't come back, cause we was afraid to. And so they got us out, and we got out about six o'clock I would say.
PN: About six o'clock?
WD: Six o 'clock in the evening.
PN: When did the explosion take place?
WD: When? About two o clock in the afternoon. And we got out about six o'clock that same, same afternoon.
PN: What was that, about four, four hours later?
WD: Something like that.
PN: That you were trapped in there?
WD: Four or five hours.
PN: How did they get you out? Did they fix the cage?
WD: I was going to say, they had got the cage working, anyhow, they hoist us out, normal, I might say, the guides was a little rough on the cage, but still, they made it through.
PN: How many feet under the ground was that? About 400?
WD: How's that?
PN: How deep?
WD: No. 6 is 550 feet, and they had to just half, no , 550 feet to No. 5 And we was halfway, about 200 and some feet down.
PN: That's where you were working on the seam?
WD: We was, our, No. 5, or 6 level was about half, just exact1y halfway. The cages passed each other, mm.
PN: What was your feeling when you came out of the mine then?
WD: Well [laughs], I, my feeling was I was just as glad, glad I got out. And of course I got enough fumes; I got a headache and was sick awhile. I didn't require no medication; it soon wore off.
PN: What was the feelings of the people in the town that night?
WD: Well, there was people there from all over. And they stayed, people there from all over West Virginia. It was like a circus day. You couldn't hardly get around to nowhere. And of course, people that just heard about it come there. And a lot of people who had relatives, you know, and different, and all those countries, there was. You see, there was 186 men killed in No. 5. And there was about 14 killed in No. 6. And people like to came there from all over the country, you know. There was one or two curiosity —seekers, and the others come there to see about their people. They had them all relatives from all over the country. That was a pretty that turn, big mine; 186 was killed. Of course, everyone in No. 5 was killed; wasn't one guy out alive.
PN: Everybody in No. 5?
WD: Yea. And I don't really know how much was No. 6, but No. 6 was a small mine. I'd say about 50 of them got out alive.
PN: What did you, what did you do right after that? Did you stay in Eccles, and did they reopen the mine right away?
WD: No I didn't, some of my friends from down in Terry at - the mouth of Piney Creek. Do you know where Terry is?
PN: Yea.
WD: I was there, and they asked me what I was going to do. And 1 say, "Well, I can go back in there and work. But I say not. Well they say, "Come on down to Terry. Terry was a good place to work. And I told them, "Well, I '11 get my board and things straightened up, and I 'd come down." Which I did. I drawed what little pay I had coming, and paid up my board.
PN: Where, at Eccles?
WD: And I went to Terry, went to work at Terry. And I worked there I don't know exactly how, I went to work about a week after Layland, or [correcting himself] Eccles explosion. About a week, I was down in Terry. And I worked there for 10 months. And I worked there, and the work begin getting slack in February. So I told someone I wasn't going to lay around there. Go back to Layland; they work six days a week around the clock. And I 'd go back to Layland, which I did. I went up there on the first day of March and got a job. And I went to work on Tuesday, March the 2nd. And it blowed up on Tuesday in about ten minutes after I got to my working place.
PN: It blew up?
WD : It blew up. I happened, it got, I asked the you going to send me to?" And he said, “On tenth left.” And I said, “Who’s working that side? I know a lot of people here.” He told me, "Errol Laurentz.”
PN: Earl Lawrence?
WD: A—u—r—e—n—t—z. It sound like, it all sound like Lawrence. Aurentz.
PN: Aurentz?
WD: And I told him, “Well I know him quite well. He's." I said, “I can find my own way. You don't have to show it to me. You can tell me where it is." He says, "Number three room on tenth left.” So I struck out. They all walked in on foot. They didn't have no man—trip. So I struck out. And he say, "You can put your tools on that motor there. He's going up there now to pick up a load.” So he, I put, I put tools on top of the motor. And he told them where I get, where to take them off. So when I got up there, Aurentz looked around to see who it was. He was tickled to death. He jumped up and hugged me. He said, “I sure am glad I got you for a buddy.” He said just the Saturday before his old buddy had quit and left. He'd come out in the country here at Greenbrier out to his place. He said, “I sure am glad they send you in here instead of someone of no count." The way it was, then you were buddies. You shared half and half whether you done anything or not, you might say.
PN: Do what?
WD: I say you shared half and half. Each one checked car about [referring to practice of each coal—loader putting his brass check on each car loaded in a room], regardless how much more one worked than the other. And some fellows was naturally lazy. Well, they didn't put their part. And when we talked there for a few minutes and, the mine blowed up and there's such a concussion. There's no way to describe it, only it seemed like it numbed you all over. You can't think of anything.
PN: Really?
WD: And the compression's so great. When that compression lets loose, well you come back to your senses.
PN: Does it press in on your ears and everything?
WD: Well just the compression's so great, you know. It's almost enough to bust your ear drums. Not no noise, but just the air compressed.
PN: You didn't hear it? You don't hear anything?
WD: You don't hear nothing, just compression. And so after it let loose, he said, "Bill, what is that?" I said, “Well, it's an explosion.” Isaid, "Was any of the gas here?" Well he says, “There’s not much gas here. There’s a little bit up on the main headings.” And I said, “ If it's up in the main heading, well we'll try to get out of here."
PN: A what, a little bit of what?
WD : He said, ' 'It 's up in, a little bit of gas, up in the main headings .
PN: In the main headings?
WD: Yea, we was on tenth left. And so I said , “If that's the case, we better try to get out of here before the poison fumes gets everywhere. Get our on the main entry. That motor that brought my tools in here; they just went out. And the first man we seen dead was right at the switch— points. He blowed off of this trip [which] was going out, just, just left there. And some, we went on down and come to where the trip was, and one was laying on top of the motor head up on his arms like that —— he was dead.
PN: What, the motorman?
WD: Yea. And we were right at the mouth of ninth left. And all the men out of ninth left was coming out. And it was getting, the fumes was getting so strong, you couldn't hardly breathe in. I said, ' 'Let's go back. And we was alongside a trip of cars. And it was lucky, it was lucky, though, they they obeyed. Everybody turned around and s tar ted back. And when we got up on tenth left, going up in there — ' 'Let's go up in here and we can talk" —— about that time we met all the men out of the main entries was coming out. 1 told them the air was good in tenth left. And I said, "There's only one chance we 've got [of] surviving. They wondered what that was. I says, "Build a barricade." And some of ‘em wanted to know what good would it, good would that do, and so on. Of course I explained it as quick as I could. I told them, "The main thing of it is to seal this fumes off, and we can live, live several days with sound air there. Well when they seen the point, well they all pitched in then to, for uu to do that.
PN: So all of them went this, to tenth left?
WD: Yea, we…
PN: And then you barricaded it?
WD: We went just, just inside of tenth left, above, above the main air course. And we build us one, just a temporary one. And then we further back, we build a little better use rocks and use this here fine coal dust for mortar [laughs].
PN: Really?
WD: That's the only thing I had.
PN: You didn't have any cement, so you had to use the coal dust?
PN: I said, you didn't have any cement there, so you had to use the coal dust instead?
WD: No, didn't have none. Use this damp, damp dust for mortar. Well after some, some time, smell was coming through it. Let's see, this was on Tuesday. So on Wednesday then, I told, "Well the only thing we can do is build, build another barricade.
PN: Another one?
WD: And so we build one right, what we called, right where the “gob entry.” If you know what we're talking about, a gob entry's where they take coal out and throw the slate back in that space there. They call that a gob. So got out gob, and took the big pieces and made a wall, and fill in between the wall with fine dirt we got out of the track and so on. Build a wall about five—foot thick.
PN: What was that, the third one you built?
WD: Two altogether; third one, yea.
PN: This was the third one you built?
WD: Yea and it held. We never could, could never smell no fumes after that. So one the Thursday, we had, I'd say, 42 of us got out. There was 30 of them — probably Italians, diff—, foreigners. So they got restless and on Thursday and said they're going to leave us in there to die. [Just as well] try to go. out. 1 said, "Well," I said, "You 're not talking about we going. I'm not a' going, I said. "Let one go out and if one makes it, well, the rest of us can make it. So this fellow Tony I got acquainted with him several years back when he and my father worked together and he said, "All right, he said, "1 '11 go. " I told him, "Well it don't make an difference to me who goes. But I don't think it's any sense more than one go, because if you go down, that '11 be one. But if all of us go, we'll all go down." He said, "That's a good Idea, he said, "I'll go."
PN; What was his name?
WD: His name was Tony. I never did, I never did learn his last name. And so, and I known him real well too. He was just Tony, Tony, that 's all. So we broke a pick handle out. And told him we'd slide the pick handle along on a trolley wire. And he, you know, knowed he was all right so long he followed that trolley wire take him to the outside. And I told him he couldn't take no light. Well he balked then. He said, oh, he wouldn't go without a light. But I told him he can't take no light, cause he '11 blow up and kill everybody outside and us too. And he seen the point, he didn't insist on it anymore. Well, he said, he '11 go anyway. And I give him, I tore up a piece of what we call "shooting paper", “dummy paper" we called it. And I wrote on there — "42 men alive" and dated it. I told him, "You take this with you now. If you don't make it, well they '11 find this paper and they'll know where we are. Well he kept just sliding the pick, you know, we told him to rap on the pick on the trolley wire — sound goes a long ways, you know. He kept saying, "OK, OK, OK, everything OK." And all of a sudden, no more "OK”. And we got listening to him thumping on the bottom. So I said, ' 'Well, he's down. I said, "Shall we try to get him or not?" And some, I don't know who the other man was, but he said, ' 'Yea, let's go and try to get him. I said: “Take good deep breath. And let the breath out a little at a time as you can. And breathe air very little, be— cause the same thing that happened to him’ll happen to us.” And first, he grabbed him by the legs and started dragging him, his head a 'bumping on the side, and bumping hard on the ribs. So [he] change holds and grabbed him by the hands and pulled him. Pull him up and shove him through the hole we had in the wall. Just took a hole out big enough for a man to crawl through. We shoved him through, and he crawled through hisself, and sealed it up again.
PN: You saved his life then, that way?
WD: Yea. He lay down just like a dead man, don't move even. After about five minutes, he begin breathing heavy. And then he start moaning. And I said, "Well, I believe he's going to be all right." In about 15 minutes, he set up and looked real wild. And I said, “Tony, what's the matter?" I said, “Why didn't you go outside like you said you was?" He said, "Oh Bill, all I know, my legs go to sleep.” So that was on Thursday. And after that we didn't have no trouble of anybody wanting to go [laughs].
PN: What was he breathing. Was that afterdamp or something?
WD: Oh yea, he run right into it.
PN: And the afterdamp was what made him collapse?
WD: Collapse, yes. And He said, "All I know," he said, "Bill, my legs go to sleep. And that's the last thing I remembered. But anyway after, the meantime while I was in there, we had no food or water much. There was 42 of us and we only had, I think, about five dinner pails some of us who were working left. And the rest of these fellows in the mines left and they had, they never thought nothing about their buckets. They just wanting to get out of there.
PN: You only had five pails?
WD: Only had about five pails. The first day, after [we] build these barricades, we had about one biscuit around, I think. And that was the end of our food supply. Of course, water would last so long; we didn't have very much of that either. And our biggest trouble was that we didn't have no water. And so the men went around and pick up the scraps where the men eat their lunch, you know, pieces of moldy bread and things. And some of them took the strips out of egg shells and eat the stripping. And some went so far as to eat leather on their shoes and chewed on that.
PN: And they were eating the leather from their shoes?
WD: Yea. Lot of them says you get some substance out of it. And I experiment eating, peeling the inside of bark of chestnut. About that time, there was plenty of chestnuts, you know.
PN: Chestnut?
WD: Chestnut wood. I don't know if that was in the old time or not. But this, along about then, about half of the timber in the woods was chestnuts. And the bark come off easy and had a thick, white layer in there. You scrape that, and it really taste good and sweet.
PN: It does?
WD: Well, I eat enough. I was elected, you know, to eat that thing, eat the bark. And the top of my mouth, there's acid in it, and it just eat up the top of my mouth. Like a horse that got "lampers" it all swolled up — and I couldn't eat no more.
PN: Really, your whole mouth swelled up?
WD: Yea, on account of soreness of the mouth
PN: Just like a horse, you said?
WD: A horse has lampers, you know? The roof of his mouth gets sore and swells up. Well that's the way my mouth was. So that ended my chestnut diet. And so we just had to set there and wait her out. Every now and then, somebody said they h eared something, you know. And after listening and listening for a long time, we found out it was just, just imagination. And there wasn't, didn't hear nothing. In the meantime, there was five men on ninth left. There was about 20 worked there. But they all left. But them five, they was back at the far end of ninth left. They done the same as we did, only they had more material. They had wood there, and they nailed up a wooden barricade. And on Saturday morning, they had a door or something, and then they'd get out and sample air. And it seemed like on Saturday, the air looked like it was pretty good. So they ventured and come outside.
PN: The men from ninth left?
WD: And when they come outside, they went on, they really bawled out them on the rescue (squad). Wanted to know why they didn't explore tenth or No. 3 mines. They said: “We were in there; there might be others in there." So they did. They vent, come in there, and they come across this paper where it said — "42 men alive on tenth left.” And they come right into where we were. I might have to add, they had the mine rescue car in them days, but they kept it up in Pittsburgh. And the ones that worked in there — most were some politicians' sons. And they didn't know anything about a coal mine. They knew how to use a breathing apparatus oxygen helmets and so on but as far as knowing anything about a mine, nothing about it.
PN: This was a rescue squad in Pittsburgh?
WD: How?
PN: The rescue car was in Pittsburgh?
WD: Yea, it was there and they had the rescue car is supposed to explore ahead of everybody else and report what they find. They come in No. 3, I guess. It exploded on Tuesday; they come up No. 3 about Wednesday. They said it was, tenth, No. 10 entry fell in from top to bottom. They didn't know a barricade from a slate fall! [laughs] That was the truth.
PN: They didn't?
WD: And so when they had a report, there wasn't anybody in No. 3 alive. so they didn't, they didn't explore it any more. Instead, they went to No. 4 and No. 5 —— it was off of No. 3 Main.
PN: Cause all these mines were really part of one mine?
WD: Yea, see, No. 4 was up, it was on another creek. No. 5 was still further. They went 2,000 feet into No. 4, and 2,000 feet into No. 5. Well the explosion happened up in No. 4. And of course, they just went all through all the mine. And so…
PN: So by Saturday, nobody was looking any more, right?
WD: No. They were just reporting everything where they'd been — everything, everybody was dead. The explosion really started from [the] substation, where it started from.
PN: A substation?
WD: That mine was so dry that you'd walk in dust above the ankles, just as fine as talcum powder. There the hills, they had good track 35, or [correcting himself] 45—pound steel. And they just turn them, going downhill, they just turned ‘em loose and let ‘em drift [motors and tram cars]. And they stirred up that dust. And ribs everywhere was laying full of dust. And what I was trying to get at there, they had a substation back there; it was cut in solid coal. And that substation get so hot at peaked load anytime. They had to shut it down sometimes, afraid it was going to burn up.
PN: What was the substation? Was that electric power?
WD: Yea, they boost the power.
PN: They boost the power?
WD: Anyway, this old man Atticus attend that substation. He had instructions, he had some fellow got the idea to put a fan in there to blow through the generators, help keep cool. It would, you know, blow that hot air out. And so, he was, the old man was instructed to start up that fan the next morning.
PN: Did it stir up the dust?
WD: They finished, they put the fan in Monday, and he had started up Tuesday. And when he started that fan, that just stirred a whole lot of dust up in there. And the breaker went out. And that circuit breaker 's what had set it off.
PN: The circuit breaker?
WD: Yea.
PN: What, was there a spark and then…?
WD: The circuit breaker is not just a spark. It was, it was a big arc usually always. Yea. I can't hardly describe it. Anyway, instead of a spark, it was a big arc, maybe that jumped that far.
PN: What, what almost a foot?
WD: Yea, when it breaks the circuit see, electric, you know. When you, you cut it, and have two wire and pull them apart, well they’ll arc you. Well that's what happened. That arc sets the dust off. Because this old man had a seat just back far enough, so that he wouldn't get too much cold air off the mainline or too much heat [from the] substation. If that happened up in No. 5 like they said it did well it's have blowed him back into the substation. But instead, he was laying right straight opposite the substation agin' another rib. * Do you want to shut that down a while?
[At this point, we took about an hour's break in the interview. Mr. Derenge was tired and short of breath, both because of his age and his Black Lung.]
PN: You were just saying that they started up this fan, which stirred the
dust up, which exploded?
WD: Yea.
PN: The people that did that, they must not have known too much about mining then, did they?
*One example of an official account which totally neglects the facts brought out in this account by William Derenge is: H. B . Humphrey, Historical Summary of Coal—Mine Explosions in the United States, 1810—1960, U. S. Bureau of Mines Bulletin 586 (Washington, D. C. Government Printing Office, 1960) pp. 72—74.
WD: How?
PN: I said the people that did that must not have known the mines.
WD: Well, at that time, just about anybody, but at that was a lot of things we didn't know. We had idea at that you had to have gas for the dust, before the dust would out after that it wasn't so. They can just, doub—, what double shots, an open shot?
PN: An open shot would?
WD: Yea, would set them off. And like in this case, you get the dust mixed just right, well this arc, electric arc, will set it off.
PN: People didn't know that then?
WD: Back in them days.
PN: That dust would explode?
WD: They didn't know that you see, and which later on they learned that. And anyway, they never did put that substation back in the mines anymore. They build It on top of the mountain and put the wire It shows there they're satisfied that's what done it. Of course they, they, during the investigation, they tried to put the blame on a blow—through shot.
PN: What's a blow—through shot?
WD: Oh, a blow—through shot is where the, say you have a, shots close to the edge that, when you’re going, going into another place. The shot, instead of blowing the coal here, [will] blow on through in the vacant place. And of course, if there's any dust and gas in there, it would set it off. But it isn't possible for anything to blow up, because that was all - nothing but water there.
PN: Why were they doing that? Were they driving an entry somewhere else?
WD: They, a man was working there, driving through what we call a break— through.
PN: So, you were in the Layland Mine from Tuesday until Saturday. And they found you on Saturday?
WD: Yea, we got out Saturday afternoon.
PN: What was the feelings of the people outside then?
WD: Oh, inside, it was, these, one, these five men come out — "There’s liable to be others, So naturally everybody hoped that their, their people was alive. And oh when we come out, they, oh, they swarmed and looking, looking all us over. Looking over all to see if someone, hoping that some of their people [was] in there. And there's, oh, out there, Lay land was just like it was in Eccles. The crowd just like circus day. You could hardly get through there, there was so many people there from all over the country.
PN: All the people in the town were right there too at the mine entry?
WD: Yea, for example, my Dad, he got the word that Lay land Mine blowed up. Well he knowed some way that I was; he said, well, I was working down at Terry. He [some other man] said: “No, he wasn't either he left Terry and went to Layland. So naturally he got in his horse and buggy and took off. And he was there too.
PN: Your father came up?
WD: Yea, and he was, him and the main mine foreman, Roly Nydell, were great friends. He went to Nyde11 and asked him, “Is that so that Billy was here to work?" “Yes, I give him a job on Monday. He's, he's in there somewhere. And so other people, you know, everybody that had people there, well naturally they was going there to see about them. And then, curiosity seekers too; more of them I guess than there were looking for relatives.
PN: Where was your father working at that time?
WD: Well he was out here in the country farming. He wasn't working in the mines at that time.
PN: Oh, he was on a farm then. So he came…?
WD: I was all on my own then. And I had been for several years. He lived out at Spring Dale on a farm. [Spring Dale is in the southeast corner of Fayette County.] Well, can you think of anything else?
PN: What? We could stop a minute if you want. [Short break] You were talking about the substation and how that set off the Layland explosion.
WD: After, I guess I’ll tell him [looking towards his wife], after I got out of Layland Mine, I decided I wanted to quit the coal mines for a while. I left there and went out in the country to my father's house, and went to work in the woods. I worked cutting timber, let's see, about a year. And I last worked, I first worked for Hutchinson's Company in Bellwood.
PN: Hutchinson? Hutchins?
WD: Hutchinson at Bellwood. And something went wrong there. I quit and went to Meadow River, and went down to Bear's Creek, and went to work at this swamp and roads. And I got together with a fellow by name of Louis Johnson from Oklahoma. And we become quite close friends and worked together. And the winters, very severe winter of 19 — between 1913 and 14. And so, we were just working along. We thought we had a road stake. I remember I wanted to cash up; I had $110. And at that time, Meadow River paid off all in gold 50, or 20 gold, $100 and $20 gold piece, and a $10 gold piece. That's the way they paid off.
PN: Meadow River is right on the New River, isn't it?
WD: No, Meadow River, [Meadow] Creek's on Meadow River.
PN: That's right, that's right, yea, it doesn't flow into there.
WD: Well, anyway, we walked all the way to Rainelle. And of course the bank didn't open till nine o'clock, so we couldn't get to Meadow Creek unless we walked. Well, I got ahead of myself there. We, when you…
PN: Might as well stop now.
[The first of two reels for Interview Ten ends here.]
Oral History Project - Derenge, William 1980 Part 2
Company Store Operator, Royal, Terry, Prince, Layland, Greenwood, early 1900's, mining explosions
Interview NRGNPP 010 File H NRGNPP OIO-T TAPE TEN Mr. William Derenge
Interviewer: Paul J. Nyden Beckley, W. Va. 25801 October 4, 1980
[The second of two reels for Interview Ten begins on top of page 10.32.]
PN: You said before, you worked at Terry for ten months?
WD: After I got out of Eccles mines, I worked at Terry.
PN: That was 1914?
WD: Well, went to work there in 1914, yea.
PN: And you were talking before…?
WD: No, I went to work at Terry in '13, rather.
PN: In ’13?
WD: Yea.
PN: That was after the…?
WD: No, no it wasn't, that's right, '14. After , after Lay land there, [correcting himself] Eccles was closing.
PN: And when you were working at Terry, was that the first time that you heard of the United Mine Workers around there?
WD: Well, it wasn't the first time I heard about it, no. I told you a while back that we left there at one time along about 1912 on account of we had this, loading with the car, they got some new cars three inches deeper than the old ones. They wanted 'em loaded for the same price. And the men balked on doing it, and they come out on strike.
PN: This is Eccles, right?
WD: Yea at Eccles.
PN: Eccles, yea.
WD: And so, I didn't want, I wasn't going to scab. So I left there then. Went out to Spring Dale and went to work in the woods. And I worked in the woods for some time. And when I come back, I worked a while at Layland. And then I went back I was dissatisfied at Lay land for some reason — and went back to Eccles and went to work. And worked at Eccles till it blown up in 19—, April 28th, 1914.
PN: Did they have a UMW local at Eccles at that time?
WD: Yea, we had local, local. That was the first, the first contract we were working under's…
PN: At Eccles?
WD: During the year 1914. They signed a contract sometime during 1913.
PN: That was the first time that Eccles had ever had a contract?
WD: That's as far as 1 know. That's all they ever had, yea.
PN: Then when you were working in Terry on the New River, was that a union mine at that time too?
WD: Had a local there, and I was, served, Committee, Mine Committee, on well two occasions I remember, probably more. And of course when I left Terry and went to Lay land, well Lay land was also a union, well in fact it was always a union mine then.
PN: What is the difference that a union would make in the day—to—day work inside the mine, would you say?
WD: Well, I know one difference it make, going back to the first contract. Used to work ten, ten days [meaning hours], and the first contract we got was for nine hours a day with the same pay. And you have to understand of course, I can't remember just what changes took place. Course it all was, got for the better, of course.
PN: Were the mines safer when they were union?
WD: The mines safer, yea. Cause they weren't going to sign a contract unless they got some concessions. I just couldn't tell them off hand, but all along the line, I remember. For one thing in particular, in the yardage. There was so much an inch for slate. And when they got a contract, they got one cent more a yard, or two cents I don't know which. Anyway, they got a little more than they'd been getting. Same way that most all the coal—loading done by hand then. You got so much, 50 cents per ton in the base seams. No, 40 cents in heavy seams and 50 for the low—seam coal. And then a year or two later, they, they reversed all that and just made it the same price.
PN: When you lived in Terry, how many houses were there there? How many people lived there?
WD: Oh, it was no big camp, but I'd say there's 75 probably.
PN: Were there many immigrant miners from Europe working in Terry then?
WD: What?
PN: Were there miners from Europe, that had come from Europe as immigrants, working in Terry? Like Italians or Polish people or Hungarians? Foreigners, were there any foreign miners?
WD: Any what?
PN: Foreigners that had come from Europe?
WD: Oh. No, I '11 say that down at Terry, about the o n1y one I knowed was one family of Italians. Most of them was, the biggest part of ‘em was Stovers. They was raised right around on Grandview Mountain. Reddens and Stovers, I’d say, might have been predominant.
PN:The who?
WD: Reddens and Stovers.
PN: what, and they were Italians?
WD: No, they're American. They was raised right around Grandview. Do you know where Grandview is?
PN: Yea.
WD: Well they was, biggest part of the men that worked there was raised around there. Well in fact, this here, well the Reddens too. Old man Redden, he was weigh boss at, up at old Royal, where I first worked, mine I worked in. He was about the only one I really, really knew when I went to Terry.
PN: Were there any Black miners at that time in Terry?
WD: I don't think there was one, no.
PN: None?
WD: I think they had, had a color line — the Wrights brothers. They owned Wrights No. 1, and No. 2 in Terry. The Lees, no, I forget, Norman Lee, and I forget the others, the managers.
PN: When you were in Terry, how did you travel. Did you have to use a train? Or were there other ways you could travel from town to town?
WD: No, the only way to travel there is, at the time, to walk up the railroad. You couldn't get in, there was no auto—, automobiles. Well, there was automobiles, but they had no way to get down to Terry, and get on the track. And you had to go up to the mines on the Incline. It was almost straight up and down. You went up on the incline and back, back down. Of course, you had a choice of walking, walking down, if you got out early in the day.
PN: Did the people that lived in Layland when you worked there, did they often go down to Prince or Quinnimont on the New River, for any reason?
WD: Oh yes, they had passenger trains there, several from Lay land, running passengers, round—trip a day.
PN: Going down to Prince?
WD: Yea.
PN: Did many people go down there?
WD: Well, not unless the circus was down in Quinnimont. Quinnimont was the headquarter for the circus Barnum and Bailey, and them.
PN: It was?
WD: Yea, and so whenever the circus [was] down in Quinnlmont, the place was crowded, And the train was crowded. And If they couldn't get to go down on, there wasn't room enough on the train, they walked only five miles. In fact, in them days, five miles wasn't, didn't mean very much.
PN: Was Quinnimont a much larger town than Lay land was?
WD: Well, Quinnimont [was] just a junction town. There's two, all in Piney Creek come to Quinnimont, and them off of Lay land another short run. Two short lines. Going to have to say their division point — there was three different railroads, the main line and two branch lines — one up Laurel Creek and one up Piney Creek. As far as the town was concerned, it wasn't so much of a town. Well I guess there was 100 houses probably between there and Prince.
PN: There were a hundred houses?
WD: About a hundred houses. Prince and Quinnimont joined together; you didn't know which was which. There wasn't no dividing line, you might say.
PN: And most of the people that lived in Prince and Quinnimont, did they work for the railroad?
WD: Well yes, quite a few. Cause, as I 've already said, they had two branch lines coming down, besides the main line. But the main line, their headquarters was at Hinton; and the next one down, Hanley where the crews changed. These here, only changes down at Quinnimont, see, your branch lines.
PN: After the Lay land explosion, where did you live then? Did you move away from Layland?
WD: Well when I left Lay land, I went to work in the woods, I guess. 1 think I told you before. I worked for Hutchinson Lumber Company down at Bellwood. And for some reason, I got dissatisfied.
PN: That was after the Lay land explosion?
WD: Huh?
PN: Was that after Lay land or Eccles?
WD: Well after Layland. See, from Eccles I went, went to Layland. And only b lowed up the same day I started to work. So I didn't get to work there. And I didn't even go back after my tools; I lost all my tools. Back in them days, you had to own your own tools. I had, I expect, $100 worth of tools picks and auger and so on. I didn't even, well in fact I never unbundled them. I only just loosened up enough to pull one pick out. The rest of ‘em was still tied up in a bundle. I left there, and I never went back after them, so I don't know whatever happened to them.
PN: Where did you work in the mines later?
WD: Well, I didn't work in the mines no more until after I got out of the Army in the First World War. And the reason, and the reason for that, work, then, I told you a while ago, the sawmill blew, blowed up and killed my brother. And so after I got over the shock, I just said, “Well it looks like things out—, blow up outside as well as in the mines. So I just might as well go back in the mines." And I did. And I worked there on up till, till 19—, about '58 1 guess, wasn't it?
PN: Was that when you retired?
WD: When I retired from the mines, yea.
PN: What mines did you work in?
WD: Quinwood.
PN: Quinwood?
WD: Yea, Imperial Smokeless. And at that time, they sold out to [a] Sprague outfit. And later on, now it belongs to Westmoreland Coal Company.
PN: When did you move to Quinwood?
WD: In 1921.
PN: And then you worked from, in Quinwood, here from 1921 to 1958?
WD: Yea, sometime around then.
PN: They didn't have a union here when you began working here, did they?
WD: Oh yea.
PN: They did?
WD: Oh, we opened up a union here. See they had a strict rule up here when I come up here and got a job; you had to sign what they called a “yellow dog”, which you won't belong to no union. Well, they held pretty close to that. So when Roosevelt was elected President, and they had the law written, executive order of law written that, that everyone, anyone that wanted was allowed to have, to organize and not, couldn't be discriminated against. And so that's, that's when we organized. A bunch of men come up somewhere from down, I don't know where they come from, they come up what they call Sugar Grove over here.
PN: On the what?
WD: Some bunch of men, organizers, come up here, there's a whole bunch of them down below here, what they call Sugar Grove right over there.
PN: Sugar Grove?
WD: Yea, and had a, you might say a rally. And they want everybody to j oin a union which they all pledged they would. So that's where we first organized. That was about 19—, oh somewhere in the early twenties.
PN: The union wasn't destroyed here in the twenties?
WD: Huh?
PN: Did you have a union here in the twenties?
WD: Oh yes.
PN: All the time?
WD: Local No. 6200.
PN: All the time?
WD: All the time, yea.
PN: Even if you had to sign the yellow—dog contract?
WD: No, after, I say when Roosevelt made President, they wrote either a executive order or had a law passed, I don't know which, that anybody who organized without being discriminated against. And if they could prove that they discriminated in any way, well heavy penalty. So I guess about everything organized along by that time. I can't recall exactly what year that was in. It was in early part of twenties. [He is obviously talking about 1933.] Cause when sign the red—dog [meaning yellow—dog], that was in '21. So I don't recall just, just how long that run. They used to, for bait, they had to have a condition. The reason I belong, that if you didn't belong to a union, you'd [get] a 2% bonus on your entire earnings during the year. You get 2, 2% bait, you might say.
PN: What, if you didn't join a union?
WD: If you didn't join the union, yea.
PN: What was that, for individual people or for the whole mine, or what?
WD: That meant for all, all the workers. I know I drawed, I always drawed the heaviest bonus in Quinwood all the time they paid the bonus.
PN: Why, cause you loaded more tons than anybody else?
WD: How?
PN: Cause you loaded more tons? Why did you get a bigger bonus?
WD: Well 1 loaded more coal.[laughs] You got paid according [ to] your earnings, and my earnings was better than anybody's else. And a certain fellow, he was, background was built there [sic], and he's been drawing the biggest bonus. He said, “If I go up there and get a job, I'll take it running away from him.” But when the year wind up, I drawed I think about $10 more than he did. So he didn't say, he got up and left. Some of ‘em got to kidding him about it, so he left. He was a good, was a good friend of mine too.
PN; Let me just ask you a few more questions about Terry. When you lived there, what kind of houses did they have in Terry?
WD: Well, they just had comp—, old, old rough houses up and down boards with strips on them.
PN: What did they look like inside?
WD: Well inside, they was, they was sealed with this here tongue—and—groove pine timber. The inside wasn't too bad. But they didn’t, don't think they ever painted them; they just painted them when they first put them up, I reckon.
PN: They didn't paint them?
WD: I don't think so.
PN: On the inside, did they have wallpaper or anything?
WD: No, they, well yes, the walls was papered. They used what, anything they wanted, but the way the company finished them, it was just tongue—and— groove pine, regular sealing.
PN: How many rooms did they have?
WD: How?
PN: How many rooms?
WD: Well, most of 'em was four and five.
PN: What did people use the rooms for?
WD: How?
PN: What did people use the rooms for?
WD : Well, I cant t say now. Kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms. They hardly ever had a real front room, you know, I'd say. Well, they ordinarily had one room they used as a front room. It was very com—, very common, you see, [at that] day and time. You wouldn't hardly think about living in one of them now. But back then, you know, it was about the average. Of course now Layland, they built pretty good houses when, Layland was all tongue—and—, weatherboarding and inside of most of them was plastered. They had very good, good houses there. The average one was usually rough lumber, with strips on it.
PN: Would you rather have worked along the New River, or was it better working in some of these other mines?
WD: What was that?
PN: Did it make any difference in the mines in New River or some of the mines on the mountains? Was one better than the other?
WD: Well, the biggest difference [was] the kind of conditions. Like Layland had awful good coal, it had, run four—and—a—half to five feet, and had excellent top. And so it was better than the average. Hemlock and Greenwood had pretty much the same thing. But seemed like that the roof conditions were better at Lay land, until we got in about, oh, a mile, mile and a half. Then they run in bad top, and they had all bad top from there on. I worked there at Lay land, when they had [the] explosion, no one ever thought about any bad top there. Only, only had rolls or something [referring to rib rolls]. And then when, when I got on [as] mine inspector, I hadn't been in the mines for about 15 years [referring to the Lay land mines] . I was surprised [at] the difference in some places. Fell out so high, the reflection from your lamp would barely reach, see the top. It fell all the way up to the sand rock.
PN: Where?
WD: At Layland. Some places…
PN: What, you hadn't been in that particular mine for 15 years, and you came back?
WD: Yea, came back. There was that much difference in conditions.
PN: When you were living in Terry…
WD: How's that?
PN: When you were living in Terry, what did people do for fun then? Was there any type of entertainment in Terry?
WD: Down on the river, there was a big, flat rock. We'd sit and play poker all day Sunday.
PN: At Terry?
WD: That's what, some fellow around [said] "Come on down on the rock”, said, said, “show you something." That's the biggest pastime I had there was playing poker, and the other was standing around and watching them.
PN: Did they have any movie theater or anything in Terry?
WD: No, no.
PN: Did they have any schools or churches there?
WD: Well, they had a church and a schoolhouse, I think. [If] you wanted to go to a movie or anything, you had to go to Beckley.
PN: To Beckley?
WD: Mm.
PN: Did It take a railroad to get to Beckley?
WD: Veil, they, the train went up there every day.
PN: Where, up, up Piney Creek?
WD: Two trips a day up Piney, yea. They went all the way to Lester and back.
PN: To Lester?
WD: Mm. I think it made two trips a day if I'm not mistaken.
PN: In Terry let's see, what was I going to ask? — did people grow their own vegetables or gardens of any kind there? WD: Well at Terry, some of ‘em had gardens, yea. Most camps almost had somebody would have a garden. Up at Lay land, the way the houses were there, they go off a little way somewhere, and clean a place and plant a garden —one or two who had ambition enough to.
PN: But not as many people had garden at Layland?
WD: Well not so many, no. But there wasn't too much suitable place to have one, for one thing.
PN: Which, at Layland or Terry?
WD: Oh, they had more room in Terry, yea.
PN: Did people keep animals then?
PN: Did people keep animals?
WD: Well, some of them had cows, yea. I don't think you were allowed to keep ‘em at Lay land though. At Terry, they had cows.
PN: Back in 1913, people, people didn't have radios then, did they?
WD: What? Radios? Don't you know that the first radio I heard was when we come here to Quinwood. PN: Really?
WD: ‘21.
PN: ’21?
WD: Mm. I bought a Kent. It would squawk and squeak. And then you’d hear a word or two, and it would squeak and squawk again.
PN: So it wasn't too good really then?
WD: No, it wasn't very efficient, no. I guess I bought the first cabinet — Victrola. Up here there's someplace, some company went bankrupt in Cincinnati and I got a cabinet, TV, oh it was a dandy, about a hundred dollars. And most of them was at that time, was just little table models.
PN: Little what?
WD: Little table models.
PN: Is there anything else that, you know, you think is important to mention about those years back then?
WD: What?
PN: Is there anything else that you think is important to say about those years, those early years?
WD: Not just now. Shut that off if you want to and we can see where we are. [Short break.]
PN: You were working at Greenwood?
WD: Yea, Dad and I worked at Greenwood.
PN: What, lumber?
WD: That's on Laurel Creek, just below, just below Layland.
PD: You were working in a coal mine then?
WD: Yea. And so my brother, one of the younger brothers and sisters lived out here at Spring Dale on a farm. And my mother would bring pro—, produce down about once a month, or maybe oftener than that. And about once a month or so, Daddy come out from Greenwood to Spring Dale. Usually along the end of the month. You know how it is, going out there, I 'd stay in the shanty. We had a Russian that shantied with us. And we generally all stayed in. Well anyway, this here Russian, he had some friends come from the old country, that used to be here before. And of course that called for a celebration. And so they walked down from Greenwood to what was called Robbins, or Export. And there used to be a saloon there. So they went on down there. And of course, I didn't want to stay by myself there in the shanty. I went along with them just, just to be going. And they stayed down there, and they drink till they got pretty well lit up. And it never occurred to them, next day it's Sun— day —— they wouldn't have nothing to drink till they got back up almost home. And they want me to go back there to buy ‘em some whiskey to last over Sunday. And I balked, and tell them: "No, I didn't - got all the walking I wanted that day. " And so one of them pull out a dollar bill and said, shook it in my face, wanted to know how I'd go for that. Told him, oh, I grabbed the dollar. I was ready to go right now. So he gave me a $20 bill to buy him two quarts. At that time, it sold for $1.25, not a fifth, but a quart. So I got, he give me a $20 bill and told me to buy two quarts. So I went down Robbins, and I just happened down there between six and seven o 'clock. They always closed for supper then. So I had to stomp around; there was about a foot or more of snow and real cold. It was sometime in January. And the saloon opened up. And j us t before the saloon opened up, these two colored men —— of course they lived close by there, they knew what time it opened up, so they stayed till the last minute. And they come on in about the same time I did. Of course I was cold; I was heat, warming myself around the stove before I tried to transact any business. After I got warmed up, I went up to the counter and put down my notes, which I wrote myself, with my Daddy's name on it: “Let this boy have two quarts of whiskey.” I put that on the counter and a $20 bill, and he gave me two quarts and change, let's see, $18 or something, I don't know, whatever change was coming. So I took, put the change in my pocket. And I had on a kind of mackinaw coat, and put a quart, one in each pocket. So I stood around the fire then, wanting to get warmed up good. And these two colored men was, was buying by the drink. Well, when I got thoroughly warmed up, I was, got up and started out. I noticed I hadn't much more than got out of the door, and here these two colored men come out too. I got suspicious then that they wasn't up to anything good. So they walked fast, got ahead of me. And they had their heads together talking among them. Of course, I couldn't tell what they was talking about. So they kept that up for quite a while. And after a while, they finally fell out and they got i n a fight. And one supposedly knocked the other one down. And one, one o f them come back to me. He said, “Boy, that damned nigger wants to rob you. t ' He said, ' 'You stay with me. He opened up, his belly, he showed me a big gun he had, you know. And I got suspicious that he wanted to rob me just as bad as he does. But anyway I let on, let on like I believed what he said. And come up to Greenwood, the store just opened up at that time. Negroes were just piled in the store till you couldn't, there wasn't room to turn around in there. Anyway, I told this other, that I was going to the store to buy something. And I went up in, into the crowd, and he was standing at the door, and he couldn't see me. So I seen him come in and look around to see if he could see me anywhere. While he was there, I sneaked out through the door. But, I guess he suspicioned I must have left. So I went, oh about 300 yards, and there was two or three colored houses. And I knew, knew the people [ that] lived there. And it was real dark, way after dark, and so I stopped there to borrow a, a lamp — well just a miner's oil lamp — cause I had to go up that holler and the old tram road was rotten, broke through full of holes. And dark, that way you couldn't see where you was going. So I stopped and asked this fellow if he I could borrow his lamp. He said, “Yea sure you can borrow it. That was on Saturday and he said, "I won't need it tomorrow no way. And while I was in there getting that lamp, I seen this, my "partner" go by. And of course, he bound to see me standing in the doorway. Anyway I got the lamp and started up the holler. And by the time I got up, about a half a mile up, getting up close to the top of the hill, the moon come up. And there’s a great big chestnut snag standing by the road. And I some way suspicioned he was behind that snag. And sure enough, I was looking right close. As I come closer, I could see his shadow back up. So I got sort of close and I said, I said, see you behind that snag there. " He wouldn't move. And he seen I wasn't a 'coming any closer, so he jumped out. And I took off back down the holler like a deer, a wild deer. And I looked over my shoulder and he, see, he quit following me. And so I went back down to this house where I borrowed the lamp and told this colored fellow what happened. And he said, "Just wait a minute. He says, "I’ll, I’ll take you up home. He went back in and got a big gun about that long [indicating about a foot with his hands], and stuck it in his pocket. And said, “Come on boy, I'll show that son of a b. how to molest boys." So he come on out, and we went on up the holler. And there's two ways to get over there. We went up the little path. He said, he said, “I don't want to have to shoot the son of a, son of a so—and—so, so let's go up this—a—way. So he went up to the shanty. And I told these Russians what happened. Oh, they opened up a bottle, and they give him, he drunk almost half of one of 'em. [laughs] And go, when Dad come back Sunday evening, I told him about it. And he t s going to get, and these two colored people were well known. People, this fellow what took me up home, he knew where they were. And he found out, they found out my Dad was going to get a warrant for them, they shipped out. They never did see them no more.
PN: Really? I guess that pretty much covers everything I wanted to cover. Unless there's anything else you wanted to add. WD: How's that?
PN: I guess that covers everything I wanted to cover, unless there's anything else that you want to add.
WD: No, not that part of it, no. Just as well shut it off.
PN: OK.
[Note: This was an extremely difficult interview to transcribe. Mr. Derenge's voice is quite weak, and sometimes slurred, both because of his age and his problems with Black Lung disease.]
PN: Mr. Forren, maybe to begin, you could mention when you were born and where you were born.
CF: Well, I was borned February the 5th, 1920 at Lookout, West Virginia.
PN: And what was your father doing at the time that you were born?
CF: My father was a coal miner. He was employed by the Boone Mining Company.
PN: Did your father work in the gorge or on top of the gorge at that time?
CF: Top of the gorge, until 1928; then he moved down in the gorge Branch Coal and Coke Company at Elverton, West Virginia. And he continued his coal mining there until he died in 1935.
PN: How old was your Dad when he died?
CF: Only 52 years old.
PN: Was that related at all to the fact that he worked in the mines for many years?
CF: Well, I, I'd, I'd contribute [sic] it to mining experience. Of course, in those days, you know, coal mining was more hazard than it is now, due to —detonation was bad, and miners used to shoot off of solid, which they don rt do nowadays. Yea, I'd say a lot of it was contributed to coal mining, right.
PN: And he probably breathed a lot of dust and stuff too in his life?
CF: Definitely, definitely, right, yes sir, that's for sure. He died young; he was only 52 years old.
PN: What did his father do? Was his father a miner too?
CF: No, his father was a farmer.
PN: Where, in Fayette County?
CF: Monroe County.
PN: Monroe County?
CF: Yea. My father was born in Monroe County.
PN: Were your mother's parents from Monroe County around there too?
CF: Right. Most of ‘em, my father and mother were from Monroe County.
PN: Were your mother's parents, were they farmers, or miners?
CF: Farmers, right.
PN: Farmers?
CF: Farmers, right, right.
PN: Talking about you, yourself, when did you begin working and how old were you then?
CF: I begin to work for the Branch Coal and Coke Company at Elverton, West Virginia, July the 6th, 1936, and I was 16 years old.
PN: What was your first job there?
CF: My first job was picking bone, slate, on the tipple, $3.50 per day.
PN: Did you go into the mine later?
CF: Right. And that was on the bottom tipple, and I gradually moved to the top tipple, dumping coal out of the mine car into the chute. Then went inside, at braking on the mainline motor. And I stayed there until July, July the first, 1945, and I went to Layland. And been at Layland from then till now.
PN: And you 're still working in the mines now?
CF: Well, I 'm not in the mines, but I’m working at, at the mines at the present time — tipple operator.
PN: In 1928, when you first moved to…
CF: Elverton.
PN: Elverton, was there a union there at that time?
CF: Right.
PN: There was?
CF: Local Union 6169. I vas Treasurer of that union, oh, approximately five or six years.
PN: That's Elverton local?
CF: Elverton local.
PN: And even when you moved there, when your father started working there, there was a local union?
CF: No, no, not in '28. See, we didn't organize till '33.
PN: Yea, yea, that's what I was going to ask you.
CF: Right, right, organized in '33.
PN: Had there been a union once, say in 1919- 1920, before the union was broken around here?
CF: I don't know at that time whether there was a union at Elverton or not. I would say there was, but now I'm not positive. No sir, I don't know whether they had their little local there when they was first organized in 1918 or, 1918 or 1919 or '20, somewhere along in there. I’m not positive whether they was organized at that time or not. But I do know definitely they organized in 1933.
PN: After Roosevelt came in?
CF: Right.
PN: And NRA?
CF: Right, right.
PN: Do you have any memories as to what happened then when they reorganized the United Mine Workers?
CF: Well, there was some representative, I remember the night it happened there at Elverton. Of course, you had a little, that was down in the gorge, and they had a little school building on this property. And there was a representative from the UMW District office, at that time it was 17, there wasn't no 29. The representative come out of District 17. And they organized It one night.
PN: Did most of the people working at the mine come to a meeting where this man spoke?
CF: Right. We all, we all met at the, of course I was there at the time; I was only 13 years old. But they all met at the I was there but they all met at the little school house, all the miners. And they signed pledge cards to sign up with the UMW.
PN: Was that happening in all the towns along the gorge about that same time?
CF: Right, right, yes sir, that is right.
PN: During the period in the twenties I don't know if you could remember this or not — but did a lot of people talk about the union even when the union was broken? And there were no locals?
CF: Really I don't, I can't recall, I mean I don't know too much about that
because, see, I was born in 1920; and of course as a child from '20 on up till '30 or '33, you don't pay, I mean there could have been a lot of talk about it, but a youngster don't pay any attention to it, you know. I do remember well when they organized 'em in 1933. But beyond that I, no, I don't know too much about the union, when it was first organized.
PN: And you said you were an officer at the Elver ton local for five or six years?
CF: Five or six years, I was Treasurer of that local union, 6169 was the number of it. I got a local badge here somewhere.
PN: And then you moved, working, up to Lay land?
CF: 1 left Elver ton in 1945 and went to Layland New River and Pocahontas Consolidated Coal Company at that time. And worked for them till they blew the mine out in 1961. Then the Sparks Coal Company taken it over, and he operated it from 1961 until 1969. Then A.T. Massey taken it over; he operated it from t 69 till '70 — only operated it about one year. At the present time, the Royal Coal Company has it. And they've operated it since 70, and operate it at the present time.
PN: What offices did you hold in that local union?
CF: I've been Financial Secretary since 1962.
PN: Did you ever attend International conventions?
CF: Oh yea, I…
PN: As a delegate?
CF: Yea, yea. I attended the, I believe now, I’m pretty sure, I attended the '56, '60, '64, '68, and I attended the, the '76 at Cincinnati. Yea,
I didn’t attend the last one; It was held in Denver.
PN: What, you did?
CF: I didn't. I was, I was elected delegate, but I didn't attend. But
I did attend the last one in Cincinnati in 76. Yea, I, I 've been to about five of them.
PN: I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about what your memories of Elverton were in the years you lived there, what, from '28 to, did you live there till 45?
CF: Went there in 28 as a child — eight years old — and left there in 1945.
PN: I was wondering if I could ask you about your memories, say, in the late twenties and thirties — just some things about the town itself, if that's OK. About how many people were living there when you first moved there?
CF: I would say approximately, no more than 150 that's children and all. I'd say there was around maybe 75, 80, 85, or 75 employees.
PN: At the mine?
CF: Right, mm. But it was on, down in the gorge, there was no road in to it. The only, the only transportation you had in and out [of] the gorge was by railroad at that time. Of course, they eventually did build a little road from Gatewood. I don't know whether you was ever at Gatewood or not.
PN: Is that on the top?
CF: Yea. Down to the mine. But then after you got, you, you could get your automobile to the mine, but then after you got out of your automobile, you had to take the little hoist over the mountain, the incline, the little car that they let you up and down the hill on.
PN: Down to the coal camp?
CF: Down into the community, right.
I guess there were no roads then in the, in the community. Were there paths between the homes?
CF: Oh yea, yea, they had, see they had to haul house coal down there. So they had a team of horses and a wagon. And that's the way they deliver house coal and deliver, delivered groceries from the company store. 1 mean, some of them may be raising a few hogs or cattle or something, and go down to the store and maybe buy, buy four— or five—hundred pound bags of feed. And they'd have to deliver it on the wagon, with the team. So that's, that's the only transportation they had in the community was a team.
PN: And that was a team and wagon that was owned by the company?
CF: Right, right. And they paid the, the fellow to take care of it, right.
PN: How many houses were there there, would you guess?
CF: Yes sir, I’ll tell you in a few minutes approximately I'd say oh I can see it plain 50 or 60, mm.
PN: And you mentioned the school building before where they held the meeting for the union.
CF: Right.
PN: What other types of buildings did they have in town?
CF: Well, they had a, they had a, of course they had the store and they had a movie theater.
PN: They did?
CF: Yea. Of course, that's, that was a big recreation at that time was going to the movies. And that's about it — the store and the movie theater.
PN: Did they have any churches?
CF: Oh yea, yea. Well, no, no, no now, I’m wrong about that. The, of course they had, at that time, you know, it was more or less segregated. They had the colored community and the white community. So the white had their church; they attended church in the school building. But the colored, they did the same thing in theirs; that, that was considered their church and school building.
PN: And there was two different buildings, and they…
CF: That's right, that's right. See, you didn't, I mean they didn't live together like, I mean your neighbor might not be a colored man like it is now. They was on one end of town, and white on the other back in those days. [laughs] That's right.
PN: Was relations between the different races pretty good, or…
CF: Oh yea, yes sir, yes sir. There was some wonderful colored people, that's right. There wasn't, oh now and then you make take a, you know, misunderstanding between some of the white children and the colored children, which they do that today. But, no, they got along wonderful. There was some good people in that little community.
PN: And everybody worked in the mine, right?
CF: Right, right.
PN: Did they work in the same sections usually, or…?
CF: Yea, yea, sure, right. Everyone worked on the same section. I mean not the same section, different sections; but white and colored did work on different, I mean worked together on some of the sections, right.
PN: How many men would be working in a section at that time? About 16 or something?
CF: Well, see it was all hand—loading at that time, wasn't no machinery at all.
PN: Yea, that's right, yea.
CF: I mean you'd have a place here, a place here, and a place there. Everything was put in the car by shovel and pick. So you may have a entry, or, maybe 15 or 20 men work on that entry on the right, and maybe 15 or 20 over here on the left. And go on up, turn right and left.
PN: When, you started working in ' 36, right?
CF: 1936, July the 16th.
PN: And it was all, it was hand—loading then?
CF: All of it was hand—loading at that mine, right.
PN: They didn't have Joy loaders or anything like that?
CF: No, they didn't have no Joy loaders. Lay land was a big mine. They didn't have no Joy loaders at Lay land until about 1952 or '3. It was all hand—loading.
PN; Really?
CF: Yes sir.
PN: Did you have cutting machines in there at Elverton?
CF: Cutting, right.
PN: What kind were they? Those duckbill type machines?
CF: No, just a long, it's a long—type machine; it had a cutter bar on it — it come out something like that. It just cut the coal.
PN: Who made that? Did Joy make that?
CF: Really I don't remember now who, who manufactured those machines. I believe they were Goodmans.
PN: Goodmans?
CF: I'm positive they were Goodmans, Goodman cutting machine, right.
PN: Were they still using mules when you started working?
CF: Not at that mine, not at that mine. They had motors.
PN: They did?
CF: Right. Now I can remember the mules when they had them there at Lookout, when I was just a little boy. I can remember the mules.
PN: When your father was working up there?
CF: Right, right, right. Over at Elver ton, no, they didn't use the mules.
PN: Did they ever use, you know, horses or ponies or oxen or any other type of animals in the bigger…
CF: Well I would say in, in the, if you got a mine that's got the height, what you could you horses, maybe on the mainline. But they had to use the little, well a mule, of course, he, he's a pretty good—size animal. But your pony is what they used on the section, you know. Or either pony—power or man—power; it's usually the man had to push his car in and out of the face. [laughs]
PN: I remember when I was in Morgantown in 1970, there was a mine right outside of Morgantown that still was using ponies.
CF: Yea. Well you know when they, when they did a lot of these small mining business, punch mining I call it, they used a lot of ponies.
PN: Late, into the sixties and…
CF: Right, right. But they never used no ponies or mules in the Elver ton mine, no sir.
PN: You said that there, there was a movie house there in Elverton?
CF: Right.
PN: Did people come from outside of Elver ton to see the movies?
CF: Right, yea right. They come from Brown, walk up the railroad track about three mile. Of course at that time, youngsters didn't care, you see. They t d come from Browns; that's in below, that was the Maryland—New River Company in below Elver ton on the rail—, in the gorge. Or they'd come from Sewell, up the river here next to Thurmond, maybe three or four mile. They would walk, youngsters you know, get your girlfriend, come to the movies. Walk down the railroad track, or up the railroad track.
PN: How often did they show movies during the week?
CF: Let's see, usually Saturday and Sunday, and maybe, maybe about Wednesday two or three times a week.
PN: That was already there when you moved there in 1928?
CF: That was there when I moved there. When I went there, they had the silent picture. But then, I wasn't there but a little while, and they put in talking movies. I remember when they done that.
PN: Did both black and white go to the theater? Or was that segregated?
CF: Yea, it was. segregated, yea. They could go, but they had, they had their little aisle; and we had ours. They was on one side of the building, and we, the white was on the other. That's the way it was at that time. Definitely.
PN: What did it cost to get in?
CF: Oh at that time, 25 cents; 15, 20, 25 cents, right. Scrip.
PN: You paid scrip to get in?
CF: The company operated it too, yea, yes sir, yes sir.
PN: In the church, what type of a church…?
CF: Well, more or less a community church, I mean anyone, I mean, you take the Holiness may have had their meetings on Monday night, on a Wednesday night or a Tuesday night. And the Baptist maybe have theirs on a Saturday night or a Sunday morning or Sunday night, right.
PN: Were there any permanent preachers there? Or did preachers come in from the outside?
CF: No, it was usually someone in the community that was…
PN: Would run the service?
CF: Any time you usually have that many employees, usually some one of them' s a preacher, you know, right.
PN: And that was true both of the Black church and the white church?
CF: Well, no, the Blacks had theirs too.
PN: Did they have a special preacher, or was…
CF: Right.
PN: He a coal miner?
CF: Yea, they had their, that's right, that's right. He was a coal miner too.
PN: He was?
CF: Right, someone that lived in the community.
PN: Was that a Baptist church, or was that a community church?
CF: I don 't know what, I don't know what the colored was. I’d say more or less community church anyone, yea, had to be, yes sir.
PN: Did many people grow gardens there at Elverton?
CF: Well, yes, I mean small gardens. Of course, you don't have too much room down here in the gorge, you know, to g row too much of a garden, maybe just a little bit around the house. Yea, yes, they'd plant a small garden, what space they had.
PN: And you said that some people kept hogs and animals?
CF: Few hogs, yea, and some maybe had a cow or two at that time in Elver ton to get milk for the children, yes sir, that's right. But that was the way of life back then, I mean, I don't know, for some reason, it seems to me like people were more satisfied back then than they are now. [laughs] Too much for em to do now. [laughs]
PN: When you were living there, did people, you know did you often leave town to, you know, visit another town?
CF: Oh yea, about every weekend everybody, well not everybody, but the trains come up, you know, we had a train come up this river, passenger train maybe every, either going east or west, every two hours, local train, he would stop. Then people, Thurmond that's where everybody would come to on the weekends Thurmond, yes sir.
PN: What was that like back when, you know, [when] you were living in Elverton?
CF: You mean to come to Thurmond?
PN: Yea, yea, what was Thurmond like at that time?
CF: Well, Thurmond at that time, of course they had a lot of restaurants and beer parlors. And we had a ball team; of course, we 'd have to come to Thurmond to play ball. And of course on Saturday nights, you know, they'd have dances and this and that.
PN: At Thurmond?
CP: Yea, right.
PN: Where, in one of the hotels?
CF: Well, or in one of the restaurants there or beer joints, yea, restaurants. Yea, that Thurmond was a lively place at one time. Did you ever see the picture of the old Dunglen Hotel?
PN: Yea, yea.
CF: I've got a lot of them out there; I mean it's on the campaign material, literature, you know, Dunglen.
PN : Did you ever go there to dances or…?
CF: No, no, no, now I never did, I never did see the Dunglen. I think it burnt down, I believe in '34, wasn't it, '33 or 34, yea. No, I never did see it, no sir.
PN: But the Lafayette Hotel was still there when you went there, wasn't it?
CF: Right, right.
PN: What was that like?
CF: Well, I don't remember too much about it either; see, I was just a youngster and didn't, of course, didn't pay that much attention to it at that time. In places that served beer, they were just allowed to serve beer, right? They couldn't serve mixed drinks?
CF: No, that's right. Beers only, that's right.
PN: Did many people make, make moonshine around at that time?
CF: Well yea, you could, you could find moonshine, yea, I’ve seen a still or two in operation. [laughs] Right here on Manns Creek. You know where you go up Manns Creek to Babcock Park, near Sewell?
PN: Yea.
CF: Right there in that holler, I 've seen a many a gallon — well not, a many a gallon — I 've seen a good bit of it made. But I didn't, I mean, a colored guy was making it.
PN: Really?
CF: Yea. But up and down Manns Creek there, they was, back in those years, there was a good bit of moonshine whiskey made.
PN: Was that true in general that they, that they were generally the ones, say around here, that made moonshine?
CF: Well, in those days, I thought it was. It was the colored, yea.
PN: Why was that, do you think? Do you have any explanation for that?
CF: No sir, I really don 't, unless it, they figured out that was a better way to make a living than mining coal. [laughs] Of course you could buy a pint of moonshine whiskey in them days for a dollar in scrip.
PN: Really?
CF: Oh yea. Or maybe 50 cent, yes sir, that's for sure.
PN: If you, if you, say paid a dollar in scrip to someone for, you know, for some moonshine, would that person then use the scrip to buy things at that particular company store? Or could he turn it in and get money for
CF: No, he would go, maybe buy sugar and corn and stuff, set himself up some little mash, you see. [laughs] Yea, he could spend, yea. He could go to the store, and buy what he wanted, maybe, well, anything he wanted with that scrip.
PN: So even If he didn't work for that particular coal company…
CF: Right, no, they'd take this metal scrip, see.
PN:You could go in?
CF: Right, regardless who had it, right.
PN: If you wanted to redeem that to get cash, could you do that?
CF: I never knowed of anyone doing that, but of course it says on there that it's redeemable, but I never known anyone to redeem it to get, redeem it to get cash.
PN: Cause they would discount it, wouldn't they, if they…?
CF: I believe they would, yea, yea, right. Well you take, a fellow by the name of Jim Martin in Oak Hill, used to run a pawnshop, he 'd buy all kind of scrip . But it was on a discount; he'd give you 75 cents for a dollar. So I imagine then at that time, some of the companies — New River Company especially they would redeem it, and maybe give him 90 cents on a dollar, you see…
PN: Yea, I see.
CF: Yea, that's exactly right. Oh, you used could buy all the scrip you wanted. I mean, for a discount like that, 75 cents for a dollar, yes sir. Some of those poor fellows, I don't guess they ever did draw a nickel in cash. They always cut It up in scrip. Well, you had no need for it down in there. [laughs] Only maybe a few cents to ride to ride a train to Thurmond, maybe cost you 15 cents, or 20, to ride a train.
PN: From Elverton?
CF: From Elverton to Thurmond, yea.
PN: Was Elveton on the other side of the river from Thurmond?
CF: No Elverton, on the other side of the river from Thurmond? No. Yea, yea, right, it's on the other side, right, mm.
PN: Did everybody that worked at the mine there at Elver ton live, live there in town? Or did anybody come in from another…
CF: Unless, unless there was a few of them that lived at Gatewood. That's on top of the mountain, and they'd have to walk in of a morning. Until maybe three or four years before the mine worked out, they take a little dozer and cut a road into the mine, maybe a mile and a half. And otherwise up until then, they had to walk in if they got in, or go on the train, ride her in on the train, right.
PN: But you said that there was a hoist?
CF: Right.
PN: That you could. Did you take that when you went from your house up to the mine?
CF: You'd have to go out to the mine; see the community's in, in, in, down in the gorge, maybe on the hillside. Then if you was going up to the mine, you'd have to walk out to the mine, and get on the hoist, call the man at the top — they had a fellow lived up at the top he'd pull you up the mountain on the hoist. Then if you was going on Gatewood then Mountain, you'd have to get off and walk around the mountain, and go on top of the mountain.
PN: What did the hoist look like?
CF: Just a little man—car. It was open, I mean, you just sit out in all kind of weather. If it was raining, you get soaking wet. Or snowing, you 'd freeze to death. Just a little car, made on four wheels, had a rope on it. With a big drum on top. They pull you up and down the hill. That's the way they pull all the miners up and down.
PN: How many people could fit in one of these cars?
CF: Probably ten, right, at that time.
PN: Was there more than one, or did they just…?
CF: Just the one.
PN: Run it back and forth?
CF: Right. Maybe take him ten minutes to go up and down. And they put the coal over the mountain in monitors. Of course this hoist track paralleled the monitor track, side by side.
PN: Did they run on the same motors, or were they…
CT: No, no.
PN: They were separate?
CF: Right.
PN: On a monitor, you couldn't ride on that, could you? That was a…
CF: Well yea, I rode on many and many a monitor I mean.
PN: You did?
CF: Many a time those monitors; but nowadays, they would put a man into jail for trying to do It. But then, you could ride anything, they didn't care. The law wasn't that strict.
PN: What did the monitor look like? Was that a big barrel or something?
CF: Just a big type barrel - had four wheels on it, mm.
PN; How would you ride that? On top of it, or inside?
CF: Well they had, they had a, you know, you'd ride on the side of it. They'd have a couple braces from one end to the other, and a board laying there botted to it, you see.
PN: So you could lie on that, or sit on that?
CF: Well, you'd stand up on it. See you had a bar, yea. Of course, you'd have to ride it right on in the tipple. When he got in the bottom tipple, he'd turn this up like that, and dump his coal out. He had a gate on the front end, you see. And while he was loading at the top, you'd get off. But your monitor's not run by motors. Your load pulls your empty; there's no, no motors whatsoever.
PN: No?
CF: No, load pulls your empty. Your load at the top, that load will pull your…
PN: Oh, it's a system of pulleys or something?
CF: Double monitor, see. While your empty's in the bin, while you're dumping, he's loading the other one at the top. So when he gets it loaded, why then that load will pull the other empty back up. No power used whatsoever.
PN: But there was power used in the hoist, right? For those engines?
CF: Rights right, right, motor, that's right, yes sir. I don't know whether there's any monitor in this country right now, unless there's still some over at Stickney over in Wyo—, over in Boone County. There was just, oh, a few years ago, but now whether it's still there I don 't know.
PN: You mentioned a baseball team a while ago.
CF: Yea we had a, yea, we used to have a pretty good baseball, of course, all, all coal companies at that time had baseball teams. If you was a good ballplayer, you'd get a job anywhere. I mean these superintendents, these mines would hire you if you was a good ballplayer. Because that was about the only sport that people had to watch and, and the coal companies would them sponsor ball clubs, and buy uniforms and everything. So about all of them did have ball clubs and they'd come to Thurmond, or play their neighbors up the track or down the track.
PN: Did all the towns along the gorge have baseball teams in the thirties when you were…
CF: Right, yea.
PN: Did they play in a league at any time?
CF: Well no, no, no, it wasn't no league. I mean, you may be available this Sunday, and you call your neighbor up the road, up the railroad track there three or four mile, and ask them if they got a game for Sunday. They say, "No." "Well, we come up or you come down." That's the way they did it.
PN: I guess that was an important social event for the whole community?
CF: Right, yea. Everybody, everybody backed their baseball teams, now. [laughs] That's where they had a lot of fun on Sundays' afternoon, watching those ball teams, and drinking beer and moonshine. [laughs]
PN: What was the legal system in these towns? Did they have constables or sheriffs of any kind living there?
CF: Well at one time, now we had a Conservation Officer that was there for a while. [Interruption of taping, as a neighbor visited Mr. Forren.]
PN: You were talking a minute ago about the law, and the Conservation Officer. Maybe you could describe just what the system of law, you know, was in Elverton.
CF: Well, about the only time that there was either, I mean, ever a law down in there is when something happened was a [which] the company didn't go along with, you know. And they'd call the deputy sheriffs out of
Fayetteville.
PN: They would?
CF: Yea. They had to come in on a train, or come to the top of the mountain and walk down. Of course, I don't remember no murder that, I was only there from 1928 till 45. And I know there was a lot of accidents and a Jot of people killed on Saturday nights down there by drowning or a train getting them or something maybe on the track drinking or drunk. But as far as just actually murder or robbery, there wasn't too much of that went on at that town. Wasn't, didn't nobody have anything to rob em for. [laughs] But, well they had a lot of fights and things ' you know. Boys, and get on Saturday night, and do a lot of gambling and so forth, but as far as too much murder, there wasn't.
PN: Did they ever use the deputies during strikes? Or not?
CF: No, not, no, no, no. No. not this last time since they was organized in 33. No, you mean the company to, men wanted to work to go ahead to cross picket lines and so forth?
PN: Yea.
CF: No, no, no sir.
PN: Do you have any memory of the Baldwin—Felts?
CF: No, I 've read a lot about them, but no, don't remember them — before my time.
PN: It was?
CF: Yes, it was.
PN: When you were living in Elverton, say in the late twenties and thirties, and when you started working in the mine, what percentage would you say of the miners there were Black, and what was white?
CF: I’d say there was about 60—40; there was a lot of colored there.
PN: It was mostly white?
CF: Yea, yea, the majority, the majority was white. I'd say about 60—40.
PN: But there was a big…
CF: Right.
PN: There was a big minority of, of the Black miners there?
CF: Well, about 60% white and 40% colored.
PN: Was there any difference in the type of work they did in the mine?
CF: No, they usually done about the same thing the white people would - mean run motors, lay track, or cut coal, load coal, right.
PN: Were there many immigrants from Europe living there?
CF: Not too many. There was a few Mexicans or, very few, but wasn't too many at Elver ton at that time. Now there was a lot up at Layland, different .
PN: Mexicans at Lay land?
CF: Right. Spaniards, there were a lot of Spaniards at Layland.
PN: Where did the Mexicans come from? Did they come directly from Mexico to work in the mines here?
CF: I would say, yes, mm. Course we had a few Russians at Layland, I mean three or four I know, that worked in the mines.
PN: Did the Mexicans, did they move out after a while? Or how long did they stay here?
CF: Well, undoubtedly, they just died out, and the youngsters didn't take up the trade, that's right.
PN: When you began working in 1936, what were you paid a day and how many hours did you have to work?
CF: Worked eight hours a day at $3.50 a day, picking slate. Although they said it was a eight—hour day. Course the union was in, and of course the union was just organized in 33. But although, you had more or less, I mean you didn't take a real strong hold until maybe in the forties. Why before the union come in, see, everybody was scared of the superintendent or the mine foreman. I mean you did exactly what they said, and it was a long time before it rubbed off too much, see, that you felt like you had a little protection yourself. So I would say it was in the, sometime in the forties before you really got any freedom from the mine management.
PN: When did you get portal—to—portal?
CF: No, there was no such thing as portal—to—portal then. That was, that come along, maybe about ‘48. [It was actually 1943.]
PN: It was that late?
CF: Yea, right. But 1 could remember there at Elverton, even after the union come in, why the miners stayed in the mines from daylight to dark.
PN: How many shifts did they have? Just that one shift?
CF: No they had two shifts.
PN: A night shift, and a day?
CF: Right, that's right. Then they cut coal, the machine crew cut coal on the third shift. Actually had…
PN: There were three?
CF: Two production shifts, and one repair shift, you know, and so forth, getting ready for the next one.
PN: That's when you started working, right?
CF: No, I started at the bottom tipple in 1936.
PN: But they had three shifts, when you began working in 1936? They had three shifts working then?
CF: Well, two production shifts, only two production shifts, that is producing coal. Then the other one was a maintenance shift, that is, for the machinery to cut the coal getting ready for the next shift coming on, the day shift. And maybe bailing water, taking in the sand not too many men, maybe a half dozen men.
PN: Is that all?
CF: Right.
PN: When did the different shifts work? Like when you went to work, when did you begin and when did you end?
CF: 7 to 3, 3 to 11, 11 to 7.
PN: So the 11 to 7 was the half dozen men that would do maintenance work?
CF: Right, right, machine men and so forth. Or someone dumping slate, and this and that.
PN: What kind of hats did you, or what kind of lamps did you use then?
CF: Well, when 1 started in 1933, they had the battery light. I mean, when the organized in 1933. I taken care, that was one of my first jobs after 1 went from the bottom tipple on slate, picking slate, up to the top tipple, I'd say in 1938. But in 1933 to about 1938, they had the cloth hat and the carbide lamp. So we probably got the battery lamp sometime in the, about '38, '38.
PN: The battery one?
CF: Right.
PN: Did the, did they have a different type of a hat then too? It was a hard, it was a harder hat?
CF: No, no, at that time, you could use your cloth hat or the hard—shell hat had just begin to come in existence along about that time too.
PN: The hard—shell hats were better, right? Did they protect you more?
CF: Well when the, well when the first, when the hard hats first came out, well the miners was 100% against them.
PN: They were?
CF: Oh they complained, and did this and everything else, hurt their head. No, they didn't want em. Same way with shoe. Used to be you could wear any old thing. They didn’t care; toed the coal, coal, coal operators didn't, or management didn't. But when they brought those shoes out, you know, the miners complained about those hard toes when they'd, stooping down you know, bending down, loading coal. Them things was "cutting their toes off" and this and that. That hard hat, they all of them complained about the headache all the time. But they don’t do that no more. I mean, sometime, you know, when you 're trying to force a fellow to do something, why, against his will, you got a lot of complaints. [laughs] But now, I think they're wonderful — the hard—toed shoe and the hat. Back in those days, buddy, why they didn't know nothing but the old soft—toed shoe and the old cloth hat. So heck.
PN: You know, what did you do, did you work on the outside tipple at Elverton between 38 and '45?
CF: No, no, I started now in 1936, picking slate.
PN: That was at the bottom?
CF: I worked there possibly two years at the bottom tipple, then I moved to the top tipple dumping mine cars into the chute, dumping coal cars, loaded with coal. Then I may have worked there maybe until about 1937. Then I went inside.
PN: What did you do there?
CF: Braking on the mainline motor, mm. But I loaded coal some at Elver ton too, during that time. See I only worked there nine years, now, from '36 to '45, and I left. But I did a little bit of everything while I was there, such as helping on the track, dumping coal, picking slate, and used to go in the night and help my brother on the pumps, and braking on the mainline, loading coal, a little bit of everything. I mean, a person in them days didn't have no regular job; you just done what the boss told you to do.
PN: There was really no job classification?
CF: No, no, no. Well I mean, of course you may be hired as a motorman, why usually when you was a motorman on section, you kept that job. If you was a coal loader, you kept that job. But a fellow on general labor, they just switch him around anywhere they wanted to, which was all right. If you was a youngster like I was at that time, that'd give you an opportunity to learn several jobs, right. And I operated the monitors; I run, ran the monitors. And operated the hoist we was talking about a few minutes ago, many and many a time dropped them up and down the hill, the miners.
PN: On the hoist?
CF: Yea, right. And I run the hoist of the Layland shaft for about 11 years.
PN: If you, you know, if you had to compare the, what life in the town was like before 1933 when the union came in, and after 1933, what would you say were the major differences of the, that the union brought?
CF: Well about the, about the only thing I could say was really different was that before 1933, why, like I said a few minutes ago, the coal companies had the upper hand on a man. I mean, you was, well, I would say was darn near slaves you worked there, you done exactly what they told you to. And if you didn't, why they was through with you — get on out of the mines. Or get on off the job too, as far as that [was] concerned, and they could set you off the job [meaning job site]. But after the union came in, they'd give a fellow more protection. And the companies realized that, and they were, they weren't near as strict, although they tried to be. And they did continue a little while, cause when the union first organized, it was a little weak to start with until men realized what they had. But…
PN: Did the people feel more…
CF: Right today if it wasn't for the union, the coal miner, it'd be, it would be rough, yes sir. These coal operators don't love nobody. I mean you might take a foreman on the job or something that might like you pretty good or something, but as far as owners, why they don't care nothing, no more about John than they do Jack. No sir. so I union's done a wonderful thing, although we haven’t, I'm, I’m not going to say the union, I’m going to say we - I've been a 1933 but we made a lot of mistakes that shouldn't have happened. A lot of the wildcat strikes shouldn't have been permitted. You take here three or four years ago, five years ago, that we would let the majority, I mean the minority rule the majority. That's what happened, I’m mean if you and I go to school up here, why all you'd have to do is just go up a holler here and stop a coal mine. Well, well that's not right. I mean, heck no. We did do it, and they had trouble in Kanawha County, you know. They had a few pickets up there wasn't even coal miners.
PN: That book boycott up there?
CF: Right. Some guy come up there and just, you know, "What's the matter, buddy?” “Well, they're doing us wrong down in Kanawha County.” Throw the water out. That, that's wrong! Now that's wrong. We did wrong there. And I'm not so sure that that's not part of our ills today. Because you take our foreign business, foreign coal business, why, when they couldn't get coal due to, due to the reason of us striking and so forth over nothing, why then they could buy the coal somewhere else. Course it's picking up some now; I think the coal business is coming back. But now it's been pretty rough here, especially in the southern part of West Virginia the last five or six years. Well three or four years at my mine. We, we've got a lot of men cut off now.
PN: I just want to ask you another question about when the union first came in. Did people feel more free to, you know, speak what was on their mind?
CF: Oh definitely, right, yea, sure. Immediately after, yes sir, now we, was immediately after we organized — or they organized, of course that [was] three years before I began, but I could remember it well — why, the local union got their charter and they'd have a meeting maybe oncet or twicet a month, and elected their officers and their committeemens. And if they had some grievance or some gripes, why the committeemen contacted management, and tried to take care of it. Although like I said a few minutes ago, they was a little contrary to start with, because they didn't want to recognize the union. But they finally come around.
PN: Was there a difference in the standard of living that the families had after the union came in?
CF: I don't think there's too much difference in them days on up until later years, because that didn't have too much effect on the wages. 1 think maybe I was a 'making $3.50 a day when I started. That was in 1936. Of course, we didn't make anything right on up until, to amount to anything until maybe some time in the late forties. But, no that didn't, well it did in a way too. But I know that maybe in '40, '41, '42, a lot of 'em begin to get automobiles, although they couldn't bring the automobiles in the camp. Just leave them on the mountain. But a lot of them, yea, I believe they begin to live a little better than what they did.
PN: When you first moved there in 28 and in that period, what did the town look like? Or what did the houses look like?
CF: Well, the company pretty well kept the houses up. They kept a carpenter they or two that, I mean, of course it was all, had fireplaces in them, I mean grates. There wasn't no electric heat or oil heat or nothing like that. They had old grates in em. But if you broke a step or had trouble with something, the company's just notify the superintendent. He'd send a carpenter to fix it. But there wasn't no baths in none of them. Maybe a few — the superintendent and the mine foreman and the chief electrician; they 're the only ones had baths.
PN: Really?
CF: Yea, right. The rest of them had an old building on the outside.
PN: Did you have to boil water to get it hot, if you wanted hot water?
CF: Right, right, definitely, on the old coal cook stove. Yes sir, yes sir, unless you got to move down in one of the houses — maybe they had a dozen there, I 'd say they only had about a dozen houses there that had baths and water heaters in them.
PN: Out of how many total houses?
CF: Maybe 60, 70, mm.
PN: And the ones when the miners lived there?
CF: Mm. You heated your water; you had a bath in an old galvanized tub of the evening when you come in from work. Your wife would have the, you know, the old water boiling on the stove. She'd pour it in the tub for you, and get some water to cool it down. And you'd get down on your knees, and wash part of yourself. And then after a while, you'd dry that, and get over here and wash the rest of it. And got on the porch and throwed it over the porch — the water. That's the way of life, I mean, that's all
you really knowed. That was it.
PN: Were the houses in Elver ton painted back then usually?
CF: Well they kept the houses in pretty good shape, right. They kept them painted.
PN: What colors would they be painted?
CF: White and black, white and black. Painted white and trimmed in black. It would be white trim?
CF: No, painted white and trimmed in black.
PN: The trim would be black yea.
CF: Yea they, they didn't do bad.
PN: Did people have radios back then?
CF: Yea, yea, I remember people had radios, some of them that can afford them; a lot of them didn't, right. There were some radios there.
PN: Did you have a radio?
CF: Yea, yea, we had a radio. Course, I came out of a large family. And they all were coal miners; they all worked there at Elverton. And I guess at one time, there was four or five of us stayed at home and worked in the mines.
PN: Really?
CF: Stayed with our mother.
PN: And your Dad?
CF: With our mother; our father was dead. Our father died in 1936. He died before I went to the mines. Of course there was about four or five brothers before me that worked in the mines, and there was two or three younger than me that worked in the mines. I think there was seven of us brothers. And I believe, I'm pretty positive all of us at one time worked at Elverton.
PN: Wow.
CF: I think we all, well now except Robert, the oldest one, the one you talked to [See Tape Eight]. I believe he begin his mining career at Lookout; I know he did.
PN: Yea, he said that.
CF: Yea, and the rest of us, I think, started at Elverton.
PN: So your mother kept the house at Elver ton, and you were all working there.
CF: Right, right, right. When our father died, then the superintendent let one of us pay the rent. And so our mother could stay there, right.
PN: Did she live there for many years?
CF: She lived from 193—, or 1928 until 19—, she moved out of there in
1952.
PN: Oh, she lived there till
CF: Right.
PN: At Elverton?
CF: Right, sure did.
PN: Where did she move to then?
CF: Rupert.
PN: Rupert?
CF: Up in Greenbrier County.
PN: Is she still alive today?
CF: No, she lived, she died in '76 at the age of 88. But she lived at Rupert for several years, and then she moved to Fayetteville. And she lived in Fayetteville until she died. But out of seven of us brothers, I'm the only one left that's still coal mining.
PN: Oh, all the others are retired?
CF: Well, I had a younger brother that died suddenly the 25th day of August that worked at Quinwood. And I have one brother, he's been in the service for years and years. And the rest of them's retired, mm. Of course, I'm old enough to retire. I could have retired two or three years ago, but just haven't.
PN: Do you prefer staying active?
CF: Probably work for a while yet, mm, yep.
PN: Have about two minutes there left. Is there, is there anything you think is important to add?
CF: No. Course I've enjoyed coal mining all my life. Course that's all I known, but I've seen a lot happening in and around the mines. But today, I think it's, it's a nice, it'd be a nice future for a you—, I have a son that lives next door. He's 28 years old; he's began his mining career at Lay land. Of course, he's cut off now. He was cut, he's cut off at Layland, but he works at Beckley Coal Mining Company. He's been over there now since he was cut off up here. But he likes mining; yes sir, he likes it. He's only 28 years old; of course, he was foreman at Lay land. He ma—, he was section foreman while he was up there. But he's miner helper now at Beckley Coal Mining.
PN: Where is their mine that he works at?
CF: Down in, you go over here like you 're going to Bolt, turn right and go down in there. Over next to the Beckley, Maple Meadow.
PN: Oh yea, yea, yea. Down beyond Eccles, down there.
CF: Right, right, but you go out there and turn right at a, somewhere. I’ve been down in there before, mm. But coal mining's not bad.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Forren, Robert 1980 Part 1
Elverton, Lookout, Coal mining, other mining towns in the 1920s and 30s.
PN: Maybe you could start off by mentioning again when you were born.
RF: I was born in 1907, 1907 in Monroe County. But in 1909, my father came to the coal fields. First came to Harvey, West Virginia which is located in Fayette County. And about 1911, we went to a little mining camp which has long been abandoned, which was known as Dunglen Mountain, which was operated by William Diggins, which was a part of the old McKe11 lease. Now that's, that's a lot of history to that McKe11 lease. Then we stayed there, my father mined there until 1915. We left there and we went to Lookout, mining camp, another mining camp in Fayette County, which is approximately six mile from the New River gorge. And we stayed there. Then in 1919, my father began, which I was at the age of 12, my father begin to take me in the mines on Saturdays and during school vacation, for at that time we only had what was known as a six— month period of school. And immediately after school was adjourned for the summer, why then all the boys —- 11, 12, 13, 14 years old in these mining camps, why, they first begin, began to get their taste of coal mining. And it was mostly loading coal with their father. But then I went back to school, and I did not take a steady job in the coal mines had until 1900 and, April of 1922. I finished school in March, finished free school in March, and went to school and then went on in 1922 and went to work —— trapping in the coal mine, that was opening and closing doors, ventilating doors, where the mules could get through. And I, I did that for a dollar a day, which was ten hours a day. We had to work ten hours a day at that time. And that was immediately after the union had lost everything they had, in 1921, of course. And there was a lot of bitterness by the coal operators. Some of them had not been organized at that time in the New River field. And it so happened that I first went to work in what was known as a scab mine; it had not been organized.
PN: Which mine was that?
RF: Lookout.
PN: Lookout?
RF: Lookout mine. It was known as the Bloom Coal and Coke Company. And it was the Dianne Mine; they owned two mines at that time. And they were never, they were never organized up through the latter teens; and they were not organized until the organization came back in 1930. In 1922, 1 started driving a mule then, after my experience as a trapper. Then I drove a mule until 1924, and got a leg broke. I got it caught in between a mine post and a coal car. And was off for about seventy—some days before I was able to go back to work. I went back at that time as a coal loader. And then in 1925, I had advanced far enough in knowledge to my thinking that I decided I'd take out on my own. So I went to Elver ton Mine, was at that time owned by the Branch Coal and Coke Company . And it was a non—union mine, of course. For we had no non—union mines in, in the New River field from 21 until 1933.
PN: There was no union mine?
RF: No union mine; we had no union mine left. And so I loaded coal there at Elverton for two months, and left there and went back to Lookout and went back to work in the mine with my father. I have often made this statement, and there is so much truth in it. Back in the early, latter teens and early twenties, when a man went to work on a coal—company job, naturally when he first went to work he had no money. The company gave him his tools — his axe and his auger, tamping bar, needle, and shovel and pick. And they were charged to him. And he paid then, the first month that, he paid for those tools the first month that he worked. And he had moved into a coal company house, and the rent was set by the coal company. And as his children came into this world, I've often made this statement, they were born in this world in a coal company house. They were rocked in a cradle that belonged to the coal company. They were delivered by a coal company doctor. When they become of age, they went to school in a school that was owned and, or built, it was built by the coal company. The teachers were more or less hired by the coal company. And after they came out of what little schooling they were able to get, why then they went back to work for the coal company. And in the event of death, why the casket that they were buried in was furnished by the coal company. They were hauled to the old coal company graveyard, in a coal company wagon, buried in a coal company casket in a coal company grave— yard. And it's surprising to know, the old boys that's sleeping up [and] down New River today, that a lot of people doesn't have the knowledge as to where those graveyards are. I can go to graveyards today, that a very few people that knows where there at today.
Then in nineteen hundred—, I continued on in the mines until 1929, and I got a leg, another leg broke. I left there and went to New York. I was In New York in 1929 when the stock market crash came. I was fortunate enough to find a job. I had had some know— ledge due to my father's previous knowledge of painting. And I worked in New York for about three months until the crash come in October, in '29. And then about November, due to the fact that there were no work whatsoever,
I was able to pawn a watch that had [been] given to me by my father, and wired home for four more dollars in order to pay my transportation back home . I came back to Elver ton, went back to work in the coal mines at one and two days a month. That were all we were operating. There was no money, no one had money. What little work you had was traded up in the coal company store for food. And then in 1933, why we were able to organize again. And some of the coal companies were very, very objective to this. Most all the organizing was done in some of the deep, dark hollows surrounding those coal camps, and most of the time in the wee hours of the morning. And it was rather pathetic to watch some of the old boys bringing in their nickels and dimes, and coal company scrip — to trade to some merchant around some of the little adjoining towns for about 30 cents off a dollar in order to get enough money to buy their union charter. And a charter cost 20 dollars at that time. Then things began to pick up again in the mining camps. We had the National Recovery Act, the Blue Eagle. And it did seem like, with the ten years of my experience, that there was more patriotism and more good will shown amongst the coal miners than there had been for the previous ten years of my mining. And I mentioned a while ago, at that time on the New River gorge, we had around 25 to 30 operating coal camps. Each and every one of the coal camps were, was more or less owned by various coal companies. Only two mines on New River at that time which was known, known as Caperton, Southside Caper ton and Brooklyn and Rush Run —— was owned by Caperton interests. And those Caperton interests were formal, formerly in Monroe County. And they had, they had been much better to our people during the previous ten years of non—union; they had shown more respect and much more compassion than any other coal, coal operators up and down New River. I, mines operated up and down the river, they begin, oh yes, Nuttallburg Mine at one time was bought out by the Ford interests. They operated it for about six or seven years. And then they, they sold again back to the Maryland—New River Company .
PN: What, the Maryland—New River?
RF : The Maryland—New River Company, yes. And they continued to operate that mine until it was closed. But at the time that Ford Motor Company came in there and bought this mine, wages went up to six dollars a day. But the other mines, surrounding mines about everywhere else in the field was only paying around two—and—a—half to three—twenty. But after a short period of operation by the Ford Motor Company, it was impossible to buy a job there. They were not selective toward their men at all; they were very considerate that way. But there were just too many men trying to get on for that type of wage. And then in 1928, just previous to the Presidential election the year that Cal Coolidge, the second, after Coolidge had filled out Warren G. Harding's time —— why they was, due to some manipulations somewhere, there was quite an increase in wages come along about the last of September in 1927. That lasted, at a rate of five—and—a—half to six dollars—and—a—half a day, for driving a mule, operating a motor and a coal—cutting machine, and laying track; that lasted in about 85% of our mines up until just about a week after the election. And then the wages fell to back to where they was in ‘27 and stayed that way until we began to have an increase in '33, ‘34. Coal at that time, most of the companies was paying anywhere from 27 to 35 cents a ton for a ton of coal. And due to the conditions up and down the river, the normal amount would be around five to six and seven ton per day. We did have some of the old boys that were maybe stronger, and working condition was better In their place, that possibly could average ten ton a day, for as much as a month which gave them around three dollars and a half a day, which was a big salary in their estimation, or a big wage.
PN: You were talking about the 1920s before, though, when the union had been destroyed in 1919 and didn't come back till 1933. In your experience, did the miners often talk about the union during the twenties?
RF: It was, it was discussed where it was absolutely known that there was no company suck around, that's what the men. But anytime there's a coal company management was informed that there was even knowledge of it being discussed, that man left the next day. He didn't stay on that job.
PN: If they thought that you were [pro—union], you were just kicked out of them?
RF: That's right. And if even two or three/ discussed it in or around their working place in the mine the day before, they all three left there the next day. It was not allowed to be discussed whatsoever. And they had what was known at that time as coal company guards, and what we call coal company thugs. Those coal company guards and coal company thugs often walked the little roads in front of the homes at night to see that there was no visitation between the neighbors. And they attended their church services to see that they were, did not conjugate [sic] wheresoever.
PN: Really?
RF: And if there was one or two that come into the coal, two or three that gathered around the coal company store, maybe to discuss their personal working conditions, this coal company thug immediately come up and told them to disperse immediately. It was not allowed.
PN: So you couldn't even visit your next—door neighbor?
RF: No, no, no, no, you could not visit your next—door neighbor. No, you could not visit your next—door neighbor. No siree.
PN: Just thinking about the way your, you know, your life was at that period of time, and how it changed when the union came back, could you discuss some of the differences between living in a coal town and working in a mine under non—union conditions and union conditions?
RF: You take back at, during that period of time, a coal company home had nothing in our home. We had two or three old iron beds. And the table that we eat off of was made by our fathers. And you had one or two chairs. And you had what was known as stools, or powder kegs, and things like that to set around the table, eat your meal. Of course, you had a cook—stove and that was all you had at home. You had nothing else. There's nothing to compare with the home today, and what it was at that time. Now I was one of 11 children, and 1 was a little more fortunate, our family was a little more fortunate than some of the boys in, than some of the other families in the coal camp . For my father was a pretty good stonemason, and he was a pretty good brickmason, and he was a pretty good painter, and a fairly decent carpenter. And when he wasn't working —— Oh Lord! —— wasn't working at that particular time, why he was able to maybe throughout some adjoining camps or something, to pick him up a day's work at something else. We had just a little bit more food.
[At this point, a truck drove up to deliver a new stove to Mr. Forren's home, so the interview was interrupted and begun again on the following morning.]
PN: Yesterday we were just, or you were making some comments about the difference between life after the union came in. And I wanted to ask you two or three more questions about that. What, if you think about how life was for the women that lived in the coal towns and the coal camps, do you see any differences for them after the union came in and the mines were re— organized, and before when there was no union?
RF: Oh yes. There's one of the greatest difference in the world. It's not within my vocabulary to describe to you the difference in the mothers and the wives in the homes in the, our coal camps previous to the organization. I made this statement on several occasions, that back in the nineteen hundred and latter twenties and early part of thirties, it so happened that every so often I was able to come into Beckley for various little things. But you could stand on the streets in Beckley, and you could point out each and every coal miner and his wife that came up that street. You generally a old coal miner with an old patched pair of overalls on, which was common attire at that time. And the wife, she had generally an old patched, faded calico dress. But thank God now, since the union come in, it is so different from what it was. You take in our homes today, they have every type of appliance that other homes, other types of professions have, or business have, or labor has. They have their Cadillacs; they have their Lincolns. And that gener—, goes back to, well, from the forties you could begin to see this. You could see this improvement In their, their lives. They begin to attend churches moreso; they were dressed better; their children were dressed better. We had better schools; we had better everything.
Our union did not only apply to the conditions in our individual coal camps. It applied to the conditions in the other types of business in the field. For as we spent our money, which we were then, had access to which we didn't have previous; we just spent coal company scrip or nothing; we were told what we could do. Then after that, why the living conditions, well you seen the mothers going into the beauty shops; you seen them in much better dress; and conditions was far better for a mother or a wife of a coal miner beginning in ‘40 than what it was previous to that time.
PN: How about the food that the children had? Or the whole family, but how about the way the children ate? Were there any differences there?
RF: I would say without exaggeration that in the twenties, latter twenties, up until after the organization come in, that oatmeal was the breakfast in a coal camp. It and fried potatoes, and generally what we called as fatback for the miner. There was only enough of that meat for the miner; very seldom did the children did the children ever had [sic] that kind of meat. It was just not there. The wages did not give them enough to provide for the family. They had their coffee, of course; that was one of the main part of the meal. But their dinner and so on, we often hear this statement made beans was a miner's delight. That was always served oncet and twicet a day. always served oncet and twicet a day. And along with this beans and fatback, there was an enormous lot of bean soup. There was an enormous lot of cornbread eat at that time. It was cheaper to buy cornmeal than it was to buy flour.
PN: It was?
RF: Oh yes, yes, it was much cheaper to buy cornmeal than it was to buy flour. And then most all the coal miners, if it was possible, had their little vegetable patch in the summer. A lot of them were able to buy what we called a pig in the early spring and fatten it for a hog, for the homes, provide meat in the homes in the early part of the winter. Whether there was a little [or] large family, generally December, 15th of January, you done away, you done eaten the meat that had been provided by this manner. Then you went on the regular routine of food, that you was able to get from the company store, and provide work enough to get the scrip to buy it. Go ahead with your questions.
PN: When you lived in a town like Elverton, would you say that most of the miners had gardens in back of their houses?
RF: About 80% of the miners, no, maybe that's a little high. Let's say 60% of the miners had their little truck patch. But the coal company management told you where you could garden, where you could provide this little truck patch. Sometimes it would be as much as a mile, or a mile and a half away from home.
PN: So you had to walk from your house to fix your garden?
RF: That's right, that's right. And I have seen my father, and I have did it, I did it my own individual self, that when we would come home in the evenings from our work in the coal mines, that we would then put, eat our supper — not take our bath, but would eat our supper —— and go to the cornfield and hoe corn until nine and nine—thirty at night. And we also, in the fall, would do the same thing after we had cut our corn, and shucking our corn, and getting it ready to take to the barn. After, or mostly, they had cows around Lookout to provide their milk and so on. Up and down New River, they didn't have that; there was not provisions made in but a very, very few camps where they could keep a cow. That wasn't there.
PN: Did many people, though, you said they raised hogs?
RF: They was around, they was around 30—35% of the people raised hogs. And there was usually something else —— in raising a hog, the rest of the people in the camp would provide what we called refuge [sic] from the table, what we call "hog slop." And you could see the children, of the evening after they come home from school, visiting the different homes that did not have hogs, a' picking up the scraps from the tables and so on what few there were —
PN: To feed the hogs?
RF: What few there were, and the potato peelings, the apple peelings, and things like that, to bring home to the family that did have a hog. Or maybe two hogs, which would sell them, most always one.
PN: Another questions about the non—union conditions and the union condi— t ions. What did the union mean for the safety of the man that was working in the mines.
RF: Up until the union come in, we didn't have any safety. We only had at most of our mines at that time what was known as a mine foreman. He had supervision over the whole mine. And the mine foreman —— there were no section foremen —— up until up in the latter part of the twenties, our mines did not have a fire boss. Finally in the latter part of the twenties, the West Virginia passed a law that each and every company had to provide a fire boss. But the fire boss was not of, he was not, he was not a union man at that time. And he was mostly the relative of some of the companies to be that; it was an easier j ob. And only, mostly criticism then; at that time, it was not so much the safety of it; it was criticize the poor, old miner because he couldn't load another ton or two of coal, or getting his track straightened out where the cars wouldn't wreck, or providing additional timbers that may be for the safety of the miner . That was not always true. Most of the times, when they were driving their main entries, that they were, that they knew that they were going to have future work on ahead of them, why they did that for the, well, they're possibly two or three words you could use in regard to that. They did it, knowing the fact that this advanced entry was going to be in operation, four, five, six years maybe. And they wanted that not for the protection so much for the miner, but in order to hold that top up to providing trouble [sic] as they retreated on this part of the mine, you know. There were no, there were no provisions made for hard—shells; we used at that time, up till the latter part of the twenties, we used a soft hat.
PN: You did?
RF: We used a soft hat, yea. And it was up in the latter part of the twenties and the very early part of the thirties before a majority of the mines went to what we called the head, or the electric light. We used a carbide light, yes, we used a carbide light. And it was, I 've seen my father in coal preparing to get ready to shoot down, that is where we could load it, after it had been machine cut; I've seen my father many a time take his carbide light, and stick it to auger holes and burn the gas out of them where we could charge that hole with powder, or montabel, or dynamite to blow that coal down where we could load it.* And further— more, on many and many an occasion, I've seen my father, and have did it myself, would have to take our Number Four Red—edge coal shovel, and fan it in a place to get the smoke out where we could get In to see, see to load our coal. And you breathed all them impurities. At no time in walking along the haulageway, at no time when you walked along that you weren't kicking up dust, unless you had to wade a water—hole, which it was very few provisions made to keep off the road unless, unless it created a problem for the company. Not to the men, but for the company.
*A cutting machine would undercut the coal face about six inches —— a process which had once been done simply by picks in order to facilitate shooting the coal down. If auger holes were drilled, filled with powder, and ignited without first being undercut, chunks of coal would fly out all over the place, instead of dropping down.
PN: How good care did the company take of the mules?
PN: Oh, they took much better care of the mules than they did men. I’ve often said, it's possibly a little exaggeration here on some of our part, but mine management, the stable boss, what we called a stable boss, he was always there of the evening. You had to, after you brought your mule out of the mine, he first took him to a place that had been provided by the company to wash him off. Then you took him on into the barn. You had to unharness this mule, you had to take the bridle off of him, and you had to put the halter on, and put him in the stall which had been assigned to that particular mule. Then the fire—, then the stable fore—, boss had, in the trough that had been provided for him, had generally put his corn, cracked corn or oats, and also his hay in what we, what was called the manger. And then of the morning, when the mule driver went back to get his mule, he was, he had to harness his mule, he had to put the bridle on the mule. And then often, if you had a new whip around your neck, often the stable boss would examine that whip to see if it was going to cut the skin or something on the mule where you used it that day. And if you crippled up a mule, which I did on two occasions; the fact of the matter is, on two occasions I was misfortunate enough to get my mule fouled so two of them were killed. And that there were often a lot of humiliation, as to why it was done, and so on and so forth. But when a coal miner was killed, he was brought outside. And if it was a mile, if he lived, his home was a mile away from the mine, why he generally was, most often was took In what we called the "dog house" that was provided around the mine. There he was washed and put under a blanket or something, and carried on a little stretcher to his home.
PN: The mule?
RF: No, the mine, [correcting himself] the man, the man. And he was carried to his home. And as I told you yesterday, there he was packed in ice and a casket was brought later. And he was put into this casket, and packed around with ice in quart and half—gallon fruit jars, and kept till the next day till he was hauled to the graveyard in a coal company wagon by a coal company team. And often there was one of the old boys that was a minister that was a coal miner, and he generally said last rite, or had the last rites for the old fellow. But the mules was, mules were provided, on the weekends, on Sundays —— which as you know, we always worked six days a week at that time —— and the mules were provided a nice, what we called a “mule lot.” At Sunday evenings then, why the, it was up to the stable boss to take those mules from the, from the, where they had spent the Sunday exercising and so on back to the barn.
PN: Take the mules out of an open field?
RF: Right, right, an open field for him, yea, where he could exercise. That was only, that's the only provision that was made more than the food. They were adequately fed. And in the noon, at noon at that time, why you had to, 12:00 or 12:30, 12:15 or 12: 30, you had to quit hauling coal with your mule, and take his bridle off, or take, take, unloose his bridle, and the bit from his mouth. And you always had to take in a little sack of corn or oats, every morning, when you, it was part of your, part of the mule driver's paraphenalia was his little bag with oats in it. I’ve often heard men, mule drivers, often heard men that was abused, really abused by management, mine foremen, for whipping a mule or cutting him with this whip we used rawhide whips at that time. And you, you had to be very angelic, and the mule drivers were mostly selected by the company. You, they had to know that you were pretty broad—minded in regard to taking care of that mule and treating him as a mule, I reckon you call it. [laughs]
PN: You were saying that your father was on the Armed March in 1921?
RF: Yes.
PN: Maybe you could say a few words about that. How old were you then, about 12?
RF: No, I was 13 at that time. I was 13 when my dad left Lookout and went to Cabin Creek to join that march into Logan, yes. He was gone three during that time. That was the first time that any of us people around Fayette County had seen an airplane. For they had brought the airplanes in to, flown military planes in to assist in this March anyway, I mean assist the coal companies in this March. My dad laid in on Blair Mountain in Logan County and, for three days and three nights. And he took his rifle with him; it was a, I believe the caliber was what they called a 45—70. And brought it back; he had traded it, he had traded some apples and some potatoes and some other vegetable to another fellow, another coal miner there in the camp for this rifle, which he kept for probably eight or ten years till he traded it off for something else. But he brought it back.
PN: Hew did he hear about this? And how did all the miners come to go, where was it Marmet that they started at?
RF: We had, we only had one newspaper at that particular time, as I recall. That was the Cincinnati Post. As far back as I can remember, the Cincinnati Post was mostly delivered into these coal camps. In fact when I was a kid, I delivered the Cincinnati Post for two cents a copy.
PN: You did?
RF: Two cents a copy. And I 'd make maybe, in a month I 'd maybe make as much as 40 and 50 cents off of it. And there were no Sunday edition, or anything like that. But I'm, I'm sure that we learned at that time about this trouble through the Cincinnati Post. I don't remember the year that the Charleston Gazette become popular in West Virginia possibly previous to this date, but it was not in many of the coal camps to my knowledge. No other paper.
PN: So some of the miners were reading the papers, and that's why they went there?
RF: Yes, they informed, they informed other miners. Of course at that time, we knew our obligation to one another and, as the statment's often made, it didn't take much urging to do that, for our people knowed what hardships they had gone through, what sacrifices had been made, and were willing to go any— where to help conditions for their families, in any way, any type of sacrifice to be made, And there was a relationship at that time amongst the coal miners. In my estimation, [it] does not exist today. If someone got sick, which was a hardship at that time, if some coal miner got sick, or some member of his family, it was not unusual to see, to meet a neighbor on his way over to Mr. Jones's house. He had been hurt in the coal mines an arm broke or a leg broke —— but they were on their way over there with a, half a gallon of buttermilk, or a pound of butter, or a, some vegetables of some type; or if it was a child maybe It was a apple tart or a bag of popcorn that they had popped for him. And each and every coal camp had their little churches. And most of them where we had a number of colored, we had at that time, it was segregation, and they had little, the colored had their little church; and the white had their little church. Mostly always it was a Community Church. In some of our camps, we had the Baptist and the Methodist —— that was about the only two type of churches we had at that time. Once in a while, we had a Catholic church, but not of ten.
PN: Were the Catholic churches in any of the towns along New River?
RF: Let me see then, Mr. Nyden, I don 't, I think, no, not to my knowledge there was any of them. The only Catholic church that the boys used to go to on Sundays when it was possible to get there I 've seen them ride horses and mules to get there —— was the Catholic church at Scarbro.
PN: Scarbro?
RF : Yes. Oh yes, Winona had a Catholic church, yes, yes. Winona was a mining camp, and It was only a couple of mile up off of the river. And I don't remember a Catholic church at Thurmond. But I do know that Winona had one, and 1 remember the priest coming there often to hold his services. But they were a, there was a relation between people, and the relations was good between the colored and the white; even at that time, they were good. And you could, they mingled in the company stores and something else — they was, most of the coal miners drank at that time. If there was any corn whiskey in the country, why they'd find it some way, somehow, or some other. And a lot of their homes had their hornw—brew set every week for them. When Saturdays or Sundays come, why, they had their home—brew. And they often set down in a little party, and drank that five gallon of that home brew, that’s what they generally made. And maybe, in a few hours later, why they run out of this fivem they go over to Mr. Jones house and he had a brew set. And then they made another concoction that they called “Old Hen.
PN: Old Ham?
RF: Old Hen, h-e-n
PN: What was that?
RF: That was made out of raisins and meal. I’ve drank it but I’ve never seen any of it made.
PN: What was that, a whiskey?
RF: It was, it was not a whiskey, it was another beer. I don't know, it's more of a wine. And it 'd, it would knock hell out of you now, brother. You get that Old Hen going good. These home brews, these brews were set in under a cook stove, in a churn or a crock of some, five—gallon crock all there was was five—gallon — a can of malt, and you generally made you a five—gallon. Sometimes they'd put a few raisins in it, a few peaches in it, put a few potatoes in it. And they all, every type of concoction in this world, if you get a little. And then they had their poker parties, and poker games. You never, I 've never known a poker party in a home in the coal camp. But generally on Sundays, why you'd see them along about one o'clock, you'd see three or four take off together; then a few moments later, you'd see two or three more take off together. And you'd know they were headed into the adjoining woods for a little poker game.
PN: They used to play it in the woods.
RF: They always played in the woods, yes, always played in the woods. Coal companies at that time were, did not, would not permit anything like that if they could keep from it. And this was generally done with scrip, metal scrip that they have.
PN: Oh they played poker with scrip?
RF: Oh yes, they played poker with metal scrip. And so…
PN: What did they do in the wintertime when they couldn't go into the woods?
RF: Well, in the wintertime, they would generally get around some old, abandoned house somewhere, build them up a fire if there was any abandoned house. And I 've seen them play in the woods when, dammit, it would be snowing. Oh yes, they had their…
PN: What did they do, did they build a little fire there?
RF: Build a little fire, around somewhere where they could set around a fire. Freeze your front and burn your back up, or burn the back up and freeze your fronts anyway to pick up two or three or four nickels out of that poker game.
PN: When you were talking of the Armed March, it reminded me, I had three friends in western Pennsylvania who worked in the mines —— you know, un— fortunately they 've all died now but they said that they came down from places near Washington, Pennsylvania to, you know, be in that March in 1921. But they came all the way down here to, because they heard about it too. Or nineteen—twenty, it was '21 wasn't it, or '22?
RF: Yea, '21 or ' 22, '20 or 21, yea. That's when we lost the union. That was the beginning of the, and, of losing. Mingo County and over in Clay County that Widen situation, I don't know, now I was in that. I spent three days in Widen my own individual self.
PN: What was that, In the fifties when that was going on?
RF: Yes, no. No, now that was into, that's before I went to the organization, I went to the organization in '48. I believe it was in '43 or '44, somewhere along in that. We had one boy go, over here at Sophia by the name of Farley, who was killed there. They had an awful lot of shooting. I was chased one night there with, what was it, three state police, for about a mile to get away. I had my rifle in my hand at that time. I hadn't done any shooting, didn't do any shooting when I was up there. But I was prepared to if it become necessary. We never did go down in the camp. We was on the hill above Widen there. We built us a cookhouse there, and the state police tore it down.
PN: They never organized that, did they?
RF: Yes, it, it was finally organized, but not as long as the old man had it. Clinchfield Coal Corporation bought that mine, and we organized it, I guess up in the sixties, would say in the sixties, yes. Yes, they signed a contract then with us. But not as long as this old gentleman, I forget his name now. And it was a beautiful camp, I mean it was, previous to that time I had been down in this camp on, before I had, was in that picket line up there.
PN: At Widen?
RF: Yes, at Widen, yes. They had their bank, they had their theater. They had their community building. It was a camp that was about the average camp in the New River field, far above the average camp in the New River field.
PN: Really?
RF: Yes, yes, far above.
PN: Were the camps in the New River field usually not as well built as .
RF: No, they were not, you had pretty decent homes. I think most of the homes were painted in the latter part of the twenties. We still had some [of] what we called the Jenny Lind home; that was a home that was just stripped with rough lumber. And then another strip was put over the big crack on the outside. And once in a while, they would provide you with what we called a, building paper for the inside. But it was nothing to walk into these homes to see these a.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Forren, Robert 1980 Part 2
Elverton, Lookout, Coal mining, other mining towns in the 1920s and 30s.
[The second of two reels for Interview Eight begins on top of page 8.24.]
PN: You were talking about the newspapers in the Jenny Lind houses?
RF: Most all of the, most all the homes, they used the Cincinnati Post and the Grit. We had what was, a newspaper known as the Grit; I think it was printed somewhere up in Pennsylvania. But that was a weekly paper, and it was sold by the boys In the coal camp. It was nothing to see a part of the home that was papered with the Grit or the Charleston, or the Cincinnati Post. And it was up around 28 before you seen the homes begin to have their wallpaper inside. And it was the ones that did have them, it was the miner that had been able to make an extra couple of dollars that month, loading a couple or three extra cars of coal in order to buy that two or three rolls of paper to paper that room. And then the companies began to get just a little more liberal with their painting. You'd see some of the homes that were painted inside. And it was, the painting was done by either the m other or the father or the head of the household. It was not provided by the, material was provided by the company, but the work was done by the miner or his wife.
PN: By the miner?
RF: Yes. Then they would begin to furnish a little more fencing, wire fencing, I saw in front of some of the little homes around the coal camp to keep out the hogs and keep out the few cows that there was. And of course the miner had to set his own fenceposts, and stretch his own wire and everything. But the companies begin, some of the companies begin to their provide them with those necessities to work or raise / little vegetable gardens and so on. But some of them didn't have anything; they just went out and picked them a patch and that's when, that's where they did their gardening at. Then in the thirties, it was nothing unusual. Now that was a pathetic type of life in the coal fields. No one had anything, and it was a year or so later they began to furnish a little Red Cross flour. And honestly I have known the boys to walk from the coal camps on New River--Elverton, Browns, South Caperton from there into Fayetteville, a distance of about 14, 15 miles. And then would be given a 24—pound bag of flour. It was nothing to see 12, 15 of the men coming from Fayetteville with a poke, a 24—pound poke of flour of their back, to go on in, into these little coal camps. And the companies would not, you had to have time or tonnage in the office before they would give you a dollar scrip. I have often, I have often seen old mothers sit there at the scrip window, their tears pouring out of their eyes, begging for a dollar scrip, begging for a dollar scrip. And very seldom was I ever saw them provided with this dollar scrip. And I 've seen a lot of the old coal miners that's wait till the superintendent come into his office, and finally get audience with him to go back and beg for a dollar scrip to go into the company store to buy something, some food or something for theirself. And then when work was not too good, and some of the coal companies, the evening before they knew the mine was going to work, would advance this dollar scrip whereby they could get their little bit of Prince Albert smoking tobacco, or their plug tobacco which most of them chewed at that time, and maybe enough of money to get some bologna and a loaf of light bread to pack their lunch the next day. And maybe a few potatoes. A lot of, a lot of our homes at that time, they had fried potatoes In the morning for breakfast too, but not too many of them. They were not that much unless they had raised this vegetable theirself. In 1941, I went back to the coal mine after I recuperated from my broken back. I was able to go back on a steady basis. Why it was only about two and a half months till I was elected Recording Secretary of my local union. Six months later, I was elected President of my local union.
PN: What local was this?
RF: Layland, 5821, Layland, West Virginia. And then I stayed in the capacity as President of my local union until 45. Well, in '45 I was elected National Scale Committeeman as a representative for the New River field. And that included all of the mines that was around —- 40- some, yea, 40—some at that time.
PN: Was that all District 29?
RF: That was District 29, yes.
PN: There was no District 17 there in the New River fields?
RF: No, in ’43 we got, we went from, we came out of District 17 in ‘43
PN: Into 29?
RF: Yes, and again, now, it went down. Previous to ’21 we had 29. But when we gained the union back in '33, why 17 and 29 was one —— which was 17. But then after we had almost completely organized the field in '43, why then they reestablished 29. And in 45, I was elected International Scale Committeeman. It so happened I am, I am a part of which we think was one of the most famous contracts that was ever…
PN: That was when the Health and Retirement Fund was established?
RF: That was when we got the, that was when we got the pension and the medical program. That's when we signed what was known as the Lewis—Krug Agreement. That was when we had the flags flying over the drif tmouths [indicating U.S. government operation of the mines at the time]. And that was when we got the nickel a ton [royalty payment into the Fund].
PN: Was that the 46 contract? That was signed in 46?
RF: Yes, yes, yea. That's when we got the nickel a ton. And I was also that, in the year of '44, elected Justice of the Peace in my district, which was Quinnimont district. And that was quite an honor to a coal miner at that time. And I was President of my P.T.A.; we had Layland Junior High School, around 700 students at that time. They come in from the surrounding territory. And that was quite an honor. And we spent 56 days in Washington; we had a 56—day strike to get the five—cent royalty to begin with. And at that time was when I become knowledgeable, and with my per— sonal contact with Mr. Lewis. I had known John Lewis intimately previous to this, but not personally. My longest conversation happened to be one evening, we had been laying in at the Hamilton Hotel for about 12, 14 days without a break, or sign of a break from the operators.
PN: Where was that? In Cincinnati?
RF: No, it was In Washington.
PN: Washington?
RF: Washington. And I had gone over to the headquarters over on Fourteenth Street to pick up a Journal. And on my way back, he was, that evening he was sitting in the park between Fourteenth and Fifteenth, feeding the pig—, feeding the squirrels peanuts. He said to me, he said: "New River" which he always called me "New River" because I represented the New River field at that time. He said, “New River, sit down a while." And I sat down, and to me that was one of the greatest personal contacts I think I I’ve ever had with a human being. For the knowledge that man possessed in regard to the conditions that existed in my field, the New River field, was unexcelled that I didn't think possible that anyone unless they had worked there. He begin to tell me of the slate conditions. And at that time, we had to move so much slate without being paid for it, in order to make a passageway for the mules, or make passageway at that time for the gathering motors. And also the other enormous amount of what we called ' 'dead work" in the mines that we did not receive any pay for.
PN: Timbering and stuff like that?
RF: That's right. He had, he had full knowledge of this, full knowledge of this much greater than myself, and 1 worked in the field. And also he told me at the time that he came from Wales and went into coal mines in Iowa. And he, his vocabulary was beyond human comparison, beyond human comparison. I know that during the course of conversation, even though he, I think be as understanding with me, knowing my limited knowledge, why I still had to go back to the hotel and think for hours before some of the conversation would really stick. But he also was telling me about the conditions that exist in those mines. He was the type. About, just a few days after this, why things begin to gel in regard to settling the, part of the contract. That was the year that we got the Safety Code, first safety code that we had in the field. But I remember the morning that they broke, so well. The producers, we had Mr. John T. Jones who was then one of our elec—, head officers, he was Secretary of the Negotiating Committee. Mr. Cartwright from Indiana Coal Operators Association was the Chairman of that committee. And in that time, Harry Moses was…
PN: U. S. Steel?
RF: President of U. S. Steel. And it so happened that previous years that Mr. Lewis had worked with Mr. Moses's father in the mines in Iowa. For I recall so well that morning, that United States Steel had been fighting the safety code so hard. And as Mr. Lewis come into the negotiat—, the hearing that morning, he never pulled his hat off. He walked to the press table, and he sat down at the press table. And during the period of time which was ten or 15 or possibly 20 minutes before he was recognized by Mr. Cartwright as one of the speakers that morning. And as he walked from the press table around to the battery of microphones, he began to drag his leg.
PN: Who was this, John L.?
RF: Yes. Of course all of us was astonished. We wondered what had happened. As he got up, he pulled his hat off and handed it over to the Chairman, or I mean the Secretary, Mr. Jones. He cleared his voice, he pointed his finger down in the battery of lawyers, operators, and other officials of the opera— tors committees, negotiating committee. And he said to him, he said: "Harry,” he said, "Does that bring any recollections to you? Do you recall anyone in your life that dragged their leg a lot of years, before death?" He said, "Harry, I want to say they were fond recollections. He says, "You tell my coal miners setting over here If that don't bring back memories." He said, "The last 11 years of your father's life." [a brief interruption here] He said to him, he said, "Harry, doesn't this bring back memories to you?" He said, “The last 11 years of your father's life, he drug his leg like that.” He said, "Tell these boys what happened." He said, "Tell my coal miners setting over here what happened.” He said, "It was due to neglect of the coal company in which he worked at." And he said, “He worked across, just an entry from me." He said, “You had a wonderful father, Harry.” But he says, “You know I can't say that about you here this morning.” Oh man, he eat him up. Then he said, “Now just yesterday, we dwelt on hours here of time that was unnecessary where you people were trying to seat Mr. Moody as the Chairman of the negotiating committee Wage Negotiating Committee — of this contract.” And he says, “I didn't know Mr. Moody.” He said, “I’ve never had that honor. I never had the honor of meeting Mr. Moody.” He said, ”He may be a great man.” He said, “I don’t know.” He says, “Then he may be a representative of some little deep—freeze corporation from up in state of Pennsylvania” which he was. He said, “Now you know, Harry, and the rest of you operators, you all know that Jim Francis —— who is the President of the Bitu—, or who is the Chairman of the Bituminous Coal Operators Commission, President of Island Creek Coal Company, who now lives in Huntington, West Virginia." And he says, "You all know that it's impossible to arrive at any settlement until some of you all go back to Huntington, West Virginia." And he said, “I would judge that would be Mr. Moody, if we seat him as such." He said, “We'd have to call a halt here." And he said, “My boys may be here when the snow flies.” They said, “We wouldn't want that.” He said, “I’ll have to make this remark this morning.” He said, “In the not—too—far—distant future, when the great minds and the great scientists of this nation" now remember this was in the forties — control the solar system whereby that they'll not need such, or be such great need for coal.” And he said, “Some of the great scientists of our nation control atomic power whereby that they may not need such, be such great need for coal.” He says, "The I hope that they'll erect a monument, a great monument in Huntington, West Virginia. And he says, “On this monument to satisfy you operators back there,” he said “I’d like to know about this inscription.” And he said, "I'd like to see Mr. Moody be made a part of this monument. " And he said, "On that monument," he said, "I'd like to see this inscription — I just don't know. I’ll have to ask Jim Francis.”
That was the type of man he was, one of the greatest humanitarians that I've ever known. To know John Lewis is beyond, beyond human thinking in my book, although I know I'm limited. But then in 29 when I went with the organization, or [correcting himself] in '48 when I went with the organization, we had a wonderful President here George Titler —— that went on to become Vice President of this organization before he expired. [Mr. Titler also went on to run on Tony Boyle's ticket in 1969 is an election so marred by irregularities that the federal courts ordered a rerun of the election in 1972, a rerun in which the Boyle ticket was soundly defeated.] But I 've often told my people that they would never know he was the type of man that never wanted the qualities that was within him to be known amongst the people. What he'd want to do would be the type of humanitarian that he was. You'll never know the days back in the fifties when things were so tough, when I 've gone into these coal camps and delivered coal orders, and delivered an order for some school books, or an order for some school kid's shoes, and delivered Christmas baskets in the homes. And he would always tell me, "Bob, don't tell the people who sent these. Tell them Santa Claus sent these baskets. But we want those kids in school." And at no time, I say emphatically, at no time did ever I take a check from the District 29. I took it with George Titler's name on it and his own personal account. I so often did that. And I spent 26 and one—half years in district before I retired. And I retired on my own; I was almost 67 when I retired. And that was just about the time that this confusion started in the organization [referring to the rank—and—file movements which successfully ousted both International and District incumbents in 1972—1973] . I've often said that I spent 20 to 22 years, the happiest moments of my life, which is now, I am going on my 74th year through the grace of God, was spent knowing that I was in the position to help my coal miners, to help their families. The last three or four years that I was with the organization, in the medical department and the organization, were a little rough. You could see things begin to change. They was a little more vocal about that. And then of course in nineteen hundred and seventy—what, did we go in to, that we gained full autonomy. Seventy—three, wasn't it?
PN: Yes, '73 1 think, yea.
RF: Seventy— three.
PN: That was the first election then [in District 29].
RF: But in all that period of time, why It's been, it's been something that's been impossible for me to relate like I would like to. But they were happy moments; they were happy for my family. I spent a lot of hours at night, been on many a picket line, I 've seen some rough times. I 've seen little tipples that have been built the day before, and go back the next day, and I judge lightning had struck them or something; they wasn't there the next day. I 've seen some little larger tipples that the same thing has happened. But it would seem like that something due to the attitude that they had toward the coal miners that, maybe this was from somewhere else. But anyway they weren't there the next day.
PN: Let me ask you a few more things about the twenties. Did you live in Elverton most of the time in…?
RF: No. Now from 1915 until 1928, I lived at Lookout.
PN: Lookout, yea.
RF: Which was known as a part of the New River field. '25 I was at Elverton as I told you yesterday. I was, worked about three or four months loading coal.
PN: Where did you live after 28?
RF: I went back to Elverton, went to Elverton in '28. And lived there till '33 when I got my back broke.
PN; And where did you go then?
RF: And from '28, now in I went down there and I went to McKendree and become C. and O. ticket agent, postmaster, and had a little grocery store. And my wife was night superintendent of nurses there at the hospital.
PN: At the hospital in McKendree?
RF: Yes.
PN: That was a railroad hospital, right?
RF: Yea. But during the time that I operated this little store, it was more or less what's said "nickel and dime"; often as much as a dollar a day would be maximum sales that I r d have. But I was working in the surrounding coal, maybe a few days at this coal camp. I worked at Hemlock a while; I worked at Laurel Creek a few days; and I worked at Leslie a few days.
PN: Leslie?
RF: Leslie, yes, which is in the Greenbrier field. And but I was not able to go back to the mine due to this broken back of mine, fully back to the mine in full employment until 1940. Then I went to Layland.
PN: When you were living in Elverton between 28 and 33, could you describe the appearance of that town a little bit? Like the number of houses, what they looked like?
RF: They were, Elverton was a mining camp, was a little above the majority of camps along there. Those houses were all painted. There were around, around 70 houses there. But at that time, back up on the hill a mile and a half to two mile, was what was known at the Gatewood section. And a lot of the fellows in that section worked at the mine. We had around, I guess, at the heighth [sic] of their production, around 250 miners there.
PN: At Elverton?
RF: At Elverton, yes. Now when I went to Elverton back in '28, it had become what was more or less at that time a mechanized mine. It had motors. There were no mules, no mule—power at Elverton at that time. They had what was known as gathering motors, and then the mainline motors. And they had their drills, electric drills and so on did the drilling on the inside. And we didn't get the mechanized mine, that is, as far as the loading, loading machines come into New River about 1944 — 45. That's when they got the Joy loading machines. They begin to, hand—loading at that time begin to fade out of the picture.
PN: Let me just ask you a question both about Lookout and Elverton when you lived there between 1915 and 1933. Were there many Black miners living there?
RF: There was Black miners at both of them. They were not a majority; the majority were white. And / never worked in a coal camp, and I 've never known a coal camp in the New River field where I can say that the majority were colored.
PN: But there were a number, though?
RF: They were a number. They were not; I would say 33 and a third percent, would be about 33 and a third percent. But they were, from the time at Lookout in the twenties on up through into 28, they were, they had, they lived down below the company store. The white people lived up above the company store. Same provision was made at Elver ton. Where the incline come down the mountain at the tipple, they lived on the lower side of the incline; and the white lived on the upper side. And it begin to change just a little bit at Elver ton. Some of the colored began to move over around the coke ovens, and over on what had been known as the white side. And now that was not due to the decrease in white employment at all. That was just due to the fact that there was a few more colored begin to come into Elverton at that time, and a few more white as well. But the white were mostly coming from off of the Salem area, Gatewood section, and up around Sewell. Sewell, which was more or less a small railroad center about four mile above Elver ton, had had a lot of colored employees at the coke ovens which was operated there.
PN: And there was coke ovens at Elver ton too, you said?
RF: Yes, coke ovens at Elver ton too . A great percentage of, 50% of the mines, in the twenties had coke ovens; 50% of them down New River, let 's say New River.
PN: Really?
RF: Oh yes. Beury had coke ovens, Fire Creek had coke ovens, Sewell had coke ovens, Caper ton had coke ovens, Elmo had coke ovens, Ajax had coke ovens, and Kaymoor had an enormous bunch of coke ovens.
PN: Really?
RF: Yea, enormous bunch of coke ovens.
PN: Were those beehive?
RF: Yea, yea, beehive—type. And Elver ton had coke ovens, Rush Run had coke ovens, Stone Cliff had coke ovens, Slater had coke ovens. Now 98% of the employees of the coke ovens were colored.
PN: Really?
RF: About all the white that was on the coke ovens at that time was the little motor that was used to replenish the fuel, there was a motor operator, and the coke—oven boss. They were all white. The one that drew the coke, loaded the ovens, and so on and so forth, and sealed the ovens was 98% colored, 98% colored. Now I would say that at Elver ton, half of their pro— duction went into making coke.
PN: Were these coke—oven workers members of the union?
RF: Oh yes, yes, yes, yes. They were members of the union.
PN: District 29 or District 50?
RF: 29.
PN: It wasn't 50 was it?
RF: No, 29. No, we had a pretty hard time organizing Sewell down there. For Sewell coal for the ovens come from up at Cliff top, which was about six miles from the mine. Cliff top Mine, Babcock Coal and Coke Company, Babcock Coal and Lumber Company, was unionized at the mine. But it was up in the latter, it was up in the latter thirties, or the early part of forties before we were able to organize the Sewell coke plant. It was a big plant, one of the biggest ones we had.
PN: Sewell was still operating then?
RF: No, it's nothing operating now.
PN: No, then in the forties.
RF: Yes, yes, yes, yes.
PN: When did that shut down in Sewell ?
RF: Sewell didn't shut down in their ovens until around '51 or two, '51 or two.
PN: In this period we were talking about before, at Lookout and Elverton, you know, were there any inmigrants from Europe that came to work in the mines?
RF: We had several old foreign elements, but not too many at Lookout. Lookout was located up on a plateau. It was more or less a farming community at one time, to begin with, a farming community. It's on, Lookout's located on main Route 60 between, federal highway, you know. And most all those coal mining houses has as much as an acre on up; the last home we lived in had 22 acres. And we didn't have, we had a few foreigners there, but not many. But we had several in Elverton —— Polacks and Russians and Hungarians and. One thing we could never say on the river, you'd never see any Jew in the coal mine.
PN: Really?
RF: No, no, no, no, no, you didn't see one in the coal mine. They often come up and down in them coal camps with their packs on the back of them on payday, selling; some of them had some of the most enormous packs of old clothing and jewelry and stuff, that you ever saw, going into these mining camps. That was after them boys were able to start spending a little bit of the money that they accumulated. But I 've told you, I think, before —— you were told how much money you could draw. You were told how much scrip to cut. But they begin to accumulate just a little cash, they begin to buy maybe a dress with it. Maybe pay a dollar down this month, and next month when they come back, pay another dollar. I remember one old fellow, one old Jewish fellow, by the name of Nicholas Safety. And he travel led that river for years and years. And then maybe when night come, why he'd give a, he'd go into one of these coal camps, and maybe give some of the family [sic] fifty cents or a piece of jewelry or maybe a big piece of wearing apparel for his supper, his breakfast, and his night's lodging.
PN: Did any of these teams, did any of these, did Elver ton or any of the towns along the gorge there have baseball teams?
RF: Oh yes, that's something else. About all of our coal camps, about all of our coal camps had a baseball team. And the coal companies, they begin to become quite competitive with the adjoining camps. And if the coal company heard of a good pitcher, or catcher, or a good player a little above the average, why they'd send some of their management over to this other coal camp to see if they could make some lucerative [lucrative] trade with him, maybe a better job, if you come over and play ball for us. And then a lot of the boys begin up in the latter twenties, the boys begin to, management begin to go into some of these colleges and which was seldom. But boys that was, had to come back to the coal camps to get labor to work during the summer, to get money enough to go back in college, why it, they would hire them. But they, they have a nominal job, were never very hard at all; they was mostly outside —— maybe in the coal company store; or maybe doing some repair work to the houses that summer; maybe putting some, repairing some foundations or doing some carpentry work or something. Yes, that was the way it was done. At that time, I might mention this too, you never heard of, you never knew, you never knew of a coal miner's child finishing high school. And a very, very few of them you heard of finishing eighth grade. Now our family, as I told you yesterday, my dad as I said was a fairly decent carpenter, fairly decent stonemason and brickmason. And my dad, when the mines wasn't working, was able to get over to this farmer that traded work, and get a few dollars. All of us, all of us kids were able to finish school, all of us was able to finish school. And there was never anyone In my family was able to go to college until my two daughters .
My two daughters was the first in my family. And I can go back, my, as I said, my family was coal miners. But as I go back, 75 years in my, I could trace my history back, none of them had college. That's on both sides —— my father's and mother's side both.
PN: When you were living in Elverton, or Lookout, what, would most of the boys and girls go through eighth grade?
RF: Yes, that's all they could go through at that time. But they very seldom ever went through the eighth grade. They were, about the time they were 13 years old, they were, the boys were pulled out to go to the camp [meaning mine], and the girls were pulled out to go, stay at home. The girls, there was nothing, the girls, oh rarely, rarely yes. But it was, I mean, it was rarely that you'd see a girl that had finished high school too. I mean free school.
PN: So most of the people didn't even go through the eighth grade then right?
RF: That's right, that's right, that's right. And kids at that time, you take some boy that, they married early — 15 years old and along through there. My God, some of the boys had their families pretty well along at the time they were 22 years old. Yea, five or six children. There was a relationship that's unusual; you very, very seldom ever heard of somebody leaving their wife. You very, very seldom ever heard of somebody, a divorce in the mining camp. Now,
PN: Why was that, do you think? I guess you were just going to explain it.
RF: Why was it? I think the main trouble [sic] was that there was just, there was a closeness there. That there was a relationship that don't exist today. That a man spent 80% of his time at work and in him home, 85% of his time. And, well, a customary practice, it was necessary, you didn't do those things. Oh no, you never heard of divorce. We lost our father when he was only 53 years old. All seven of my brothers have been coal miners, all seven of them. My oldest
PN: Along New River mostly, or different places?
RF: Well, most of them on the River. Now of course I 've got, I 've only got one brother that is in the industry yet. All, or two, there's three of us, there's three, two of them are on the miner's pension. See, I 'm on the International pension. And there's three of us are pensioned coal miners. And I had one that died, was a pensioned coal miner; that's four of them. I have one that made an Army career; he's he's with the government today; he's in California either, he come out of the coal mines at, went into the mines when he was just a few days past 16 years old. My mother signed papers for him to get in. And he made a career of it. Got three boys — they 're all college graduates; all have wonderful jobs in California. He was just home the week before last. I had a brother that was working at Quinwood, and he was tipple operator there at Quinwood; and he was 57 years old and went to work that morning and died took a heart attack and died right at work.
PN: Right there at that tipple?
RF: At the tipple, yes. At his place of employment. I 've got another brother that's with, still at Lay land. And he's tipple operator there. He's only, see, that mine’s practically closed down. The only thing they’re doing now, they’re bringing some Sewell coal in from some of those small, adjoining mines out there.
PN: But the mine itself is shut down?
RF: Yes, the big mine's shut down right now.
PN: They aren't retreating or anything, it's just shut down?
RF: It's just shut down. They don't know when to start, yes, they, in the last, it's been shut down for a year and a half or two years. But in the last two years they've spent around $8 million there in rejuvenating over there. The mine is all, they've put in an enormous new cleaning plant, they put in an enormous new and it's six mile from the cleaning plant — and they put in an enormous preparation plant. And they retracked the mine with railroad steel. And they bought a lot of moveable equipment. And it's just sitting there now boarded up. The mine now belongs to the United Pocahontas people, and is, I think the head office now is in Cincin—, or in Cleveland. Belong to the New River Pocahontas people, from up in Pennsylvania for years and years and years.
PN: That pretty much covers a lot of…
RF: Well anything in this world, and something else might, back in, back in 19—, from '19 up until West Virginia went dry, why about all the mining camps had their saloons at that time too. And those saloons was controlled in, up and down New River, by what was known as the "Fayette County Whiskey Ring" — politicians controlled them at that time.
PN: They did?
RF: Yea. Well some of the old, there's some very old historical history behind those old saloons old “Stagger Lee,” old “Bloody Bucket" now they had some of the wierdest names in this world. At El-, across the river from Elverton, they had a saloon that was known as old "Stagger Lee." And just down at Keenys Creek —— the old foundation, I was down there a few years is ago, still sitting there —— the old, it had what was known as "Dime a Dozen. And all of em had those peculiar names, all those saloons. But they were noted, noted places at one time on that river. There's so much history to New River.
PN: What, and they were all controlled by, by, by a bunch of politicians?
RF: No, they were always controlled by a bunch of politicians out of the Fayette County, not by the coal companies. Unless the coal companies, now.
PN: How was that? They just managed to…
RF: There was no doubt they was a little, they'd slip the coal company a few extra dollars on that stuff, in order to provide this. And it was built on coal company property, of course, But at no time in all that period of time did I ever know a coal company and I could go back to 1912 very vividly, very vividly I remem—, I can recall those things . Thurmond down there, I don't know whether I told you, Thurmond used to be one of the most historic places between Cincinnati and White Sulphur Springs. My God, they used to gather, these coal operators used to gather in there. It is said now--you'll have to [re]search this, I am not positive but they was one poker game supposed to have gone on down there continuously for nine months without a break—up, without a break—up. And they had one of the most elaborate hotels, and that was owned by an old scab coal operator by the name of William McKe11. William McKe11 was an old bachelor. He controlled the Loup Creek section of Fayette County at one time, with about ten mines, And he was, at that time was a multi—, multiple millionaire. And rather than ever sign up with the union, in the thirties he sold out to the New River Company, which is a subsidiary of the C. and O. Railroad.
PN: The New River Company?
RF: Yea, yea. He sold out to them rather than sign a union contract.
PN: McKell?
RF: Yea, William McKell.
PN: Did he own Glen Jean?
RF: He owned Glen Jean, Kllsyth, Ta roy, and McDonald, Turkey Knob. Let's see, there was: Glen Jean, Tamroy, Price — Derryhale, Oswald, Tamroy. He didn't own Price Hill, Price Hill was opened up there by Sinclairs. That was another toughie; that was aother toughie. But things were, there were not a lot of trouble in organizing in there after '30. Some of the companies found it pretty, but there was more or less, some of the coal companies right after the Depression was right against the wall theirself. Fact of the matter is I knew personally a Mr. Ebersole Gaines, up in the thirties that was become President of the New River Company. This might be a little interesting. I remember walking in the barber shop was in Fayetteville in the thirties, and it right after we had pretty well established ourself in the fields. And we had just come off a long strike. And Mr., Mr. Gaines was sitting in another chair. And there was something, he spoke to me, and a remark was made about John Lewis. And he made this statement to me, and I recall so vividly. "Bob, John Lewis is not only making you boys, but he is making us coal, is making some of us coal operators ourself now.” But we was at the lowest ebb, when this thing, when this union come back in. I remember that so well. They paid honor to him to that extent —— that "He's not only making you boys, but is making some of us coal operators too. Now that's when we had the Blue, had got the Blue Eagle and all that stuff. And it was not merely competitive barg—; one time, one time even with the coal operators, it was the most competitive thing in this world.
[End of Tape]
Oral History Project - Frazier, Stewart H. Jr. 1980 Part 1
African american, Railroading 1929-1969, Thurmond, McKendree Hospital, Black Churches
PN: Just to begin, Rev. Frazier, maybe I could ask you where you were born and when you were born.
SF: I was born in Minden, West Virginia — Fayette County — on November the 22nd, nineteen and eleven.
PN: And what did your father do for a living in Minden?
SF: He, he was a miner.
PR: Were his parents miners as well?
SF: Now I don't know too much about his parents, because shortly after I was born, he and my mother separated. So I never did get to know much about his people.
PN: But your father worked in the mines for his entire life?
SF: As far as I know, he did, yes,
PN: Did he work in Minden for his whole life?
SF: No, this was not a lifelong occupation for him in Minden. But being a miner, by occupation, I'm satisfied he worked in several other, other mines, and lived in several other mining communities.
PN: Were they all in West Virginia?
SF: Yes, yes.
PN: Was your dad born in West Virginia too, do you know?
SF: No, I think that he was born in North Carolina.
And what town did you grow up in?
SF: I grew up mostly between Thurmond and Dunloup, on Loup Creek. I lived in two or three mining communities along Loup Creek. But I think I spent more time in and around Thurmond because one of the little towns was two or three miles from Thurmond. And I was, I consider I spent most of my time on the river. This is what most folk in the area refer to as people from the river.
PN: What were the names of those different towns that you lived in when you were growing up?
SF: Newlyn — this was on Loup Creek, Meadow Fork, and for a short time I lived at Sun, West Virginia, and Dunloup. All of these are mining communities on Loup Creek up from Thurmond.
PN: Did you ever work in the mines yourself?
SF: Oh, for a short, for a short period of time. I went into the mines with one of my uncles, and that was a short duration. Then 1 hired on the railroad, and I spent 40 years working for the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway Company. And all of that time, I was employed at Thurmond.
PN: What was the first year that you began working for the C. and O.?
SF: Well this brings back a memory. The fifth day of March 1929 was my first day of employment. And I remember that so well because I sort of make a joke of it. Herbert Hoover went to work on the fourth of March, and I went to work on the railroad on the fifth of March.
PN: So you were about 18 years old when you began?
SF: Yes, in my eighteenth year.
PN: What was your job then?
SF: I was a, I was a station laborer. I worked first at the freight house as a freight handler. And then in the later years, I was promoted to a clerk. And my last employment was crew caller.
PN: As a crew caller?
SF: Crew caller, yea. That was a clerk of the second, second group, not first—class clerk, but while that 1 was eligible to have been promoted, but after the great number of years that I had accumulated seniority as a laborer, and then when I was promoted to a second—group clerk, I felt comfortable staying where I was, because it was just going to be a matter of time till I would be retiring. And it was more profitable to me not to take promotion as a group—one clerk.
PN: What would have happened then? Would you lose your seniority?
SF: Well, I wouldn't exactly lose, have lost my seniority, but I would have gone low on the employment roster. And whereas remaining where I was, why I was near the top of that roster. So during a cutoff period, I didn't have to suffer. But if I'd have moved up to the higher bracket…
PN: They would have laid you off?
SF: Yea, because during the mine shut—downs and so on, why the younger men were always, not necessarily Black, but the younger men, you see, on the bottom of the roster, they would be the first ones to go. So I couldn't see myself losing this kind of money. So really I made more by staying on the group—two roster, because my employment was steady.
PN: What was the year when you finally retired from the C. and O.?
SF: The fourteenth day of April 1969.
PN: I wanted to just ask you if you could maybe describe a little bit about what the responsibilities of each of your jobs were when you were working on the railroad?
SF: Well, when I worked as a station laborer, the first duties that I had was handling freight, unloading freight from the cars. Thurmond was sort of a terminal, a terminus point for the local areas of Thurmond. And then when I had a little more experience, then I was taken over to the baggage room, and I helped to handle the mail baggage. And then when I was pro— moted to a group—two clerk, my duties then consisted of calling the train crews out for, for their work assignments. They used to call that a good job, a person on the job "call boy."
PN: Call boy?
SF: A call boy. And I was amused, one afternoon I was in the store, and the cashier heard me talking with one of the boys that I worked with. And he had said, "Well, here's my favorite call boy. " And she leaned over and said, “Listen, do call boys do the same thing that call girls do?" I says, "Oh, no. This is a different kind of call boy.” She knew better but this was, this was her time to get a joke going. That was the extent of my duties there. I was responsible for seeing that all the men were notified when to report for work. And it was often my duty to keep a record of the crew board, to see that all the men were called on their proper turn, or sequence, and that the crews were called in their proper order.
PN: When you began to work in 1929, did many of the railroad workers have a union to represent them?
SF: No, no, there had been a union, but during the strike in, probably in 1922, a long time before 1 was hired, the union sort of went down. And it did not become active until in the, in the thirties. And even then, the Black employees were not permitted membership until some laws were changed. And then later, in the early fifties, then we were permitted membership . Now they had some sort of a satellite lodge where all Blacks could join after a period of time. But then this didn't last too long. Because after the Civil Rights Movement started, why then all was changed. So I am a member now, even though retired, of the Brotherhood of Railway, Steamship Clerks, and Airline Employees. That union has merged with ours.
PN: When you began working — this is kind of a complicated question I guess you were a yard laborer?
SF: Station laborer.
PN: A station laborer.
SF: Yes, see I was in the transportation department. And this had to do with the employees that worked around the trains and around the station ticket office — janitors and so on.
PN: And there was no union for any of the employees at that time, whether they were white or Black?
SF: The white employees had a union, but it was dormant there for a period of time. See, they'd had a strike and this all but destroyed their union, but then it finally after a period of time, they were able to revive it. And now they have the most viable union.
PN: What vas the first year that you were actually permitted to be a member of the union?
SF: A full—fledged member, that must have been 1950.
PN: That was different from the United Mine Workers then…
SF: Oh yes.
PN: …which didn't discriminate in terms of Its membership?
SF: Oh yes, this was very different. And it was about when, full membership was permitted, it brought about lots of changes. And some of us benefitted by it, and in some departments there was some of us that lost jobs because jobs were cataloged into certain areas. For the [benefit of the] membership, you see, the Black employees were not permitted membership, and this gave the white members a chance to build a lodge like they wanted it, long before we were permitted membership. So when we were permitted to join the white lodge, see this put us way down on the list. But I was, have not been bitter toward that, because this was a transition. And change is pretty devastating: some of us survive and some of us don’t. But I think that in the long run, why, I was among the few that survived the change and by staying close to the job's working schedule, doing my work religiously, minding my business, why I didn't have too much problem.
PN: When you began in 1929 and the early thirties, what percentage would you say of all the people that worked there In Thurmond were Black, and what percentage were white?
SF: Well, I wouldn't know just how to break that down. Now on the, in the maintenance—of—way department, most all the, all of the employees with the exception of the foremen were Black. In the train service department, around the round house, all the laborers were Black. And I wouldn't have any way of knowing how many were employed, because at the round house, they worked three shifts. And there were a few Blacks who helped break the strike and they, during that period of time, they got some good jobs. And there were one or two boilermaker helpers, and several were employed as machinists, and there were two Black hostlers — and these were the men that moved the engines around at the roundhouse for cleaning and repairs and so on. And so, there were a goodly, there were a goodly number. I do know this much — there were more people employed at the freight house than they have total in Thurmond now. And so the change has wreaked havoc with the employment force, of course, with the coming of the diesel engines, and the slowing—down of the mine operations, and mechanization too has had its toll.
PN: You were talking about the strike a minute ago — do you remember what year that was?
SF: As best I can remember, this was 1922.
PN: Oh, the '22 strike?
SF: Mm.
And you 're saying, what, at that time, the union was white only?
SF: Yes.
PN: So if a Black person applied for a job, he didn't get it, right?
SF: Not through the union. But when they struck, they hired lots of non—union people, even whites. And, of course, as the old cliche "The show must go on." And they were labelled "scabs" and so on; well, later on, they called 'em strikebreakers, but for the most part, that nasty word "scab…
PN: Let me get your reaction to this. In a way it would seem that if the union — which was all white — didn't allow Black members, it wasn't exactly fair for them to turn around and call a Black person who took the job a "scab," when he couldn't even work otherwise. Do you think that's accurate.
SF: Well, that was their attitude. But this was unfair, because if Blacks had been permitted in the, membership in their union, they would have struck just like everybody else. And, of course, you take a man who had never had a meaningful job, and then all of a sudden he has a chance to make a good living for his family, why it takes some doing for him to say, "No, thank you, I’ll have no part." And, of course, this was true of lots of white people who did not think kindly toward the union, and they grabbed those jobs as fast as they were offered to them.
PN: It would seem in some ways and maybe you could comment on this — from what you were just saying, that maybe the history of the railroad workers' unions and the miners' union were somewhat the same. Cause 1922 was the year that I know the miners' union was broken, and you were talking about the parallel there.
SF: With the exception that the miners were all in one big union.
[The United Mine Workers always organized coal miners on an industrial union basis since its founding in 1890; the UMW also generally had a policy of organizing Black and white miners into the same locals, even in the Deep South. The railroad workers' union, on the other hand, was fragmented and was actually several unions, organized along the lines of different crafts. Railroad workers' unions, moreover, had a history of excluding Black workers, more or less openly.]
Much of that now has been overcome, due to legislation that has passed, made it almost impossible now for this kind of thing to exist.
PN: When you worked in Thurmond, where did you live? Did you live right in Thurmond, or did you live out here in Harvey then?
SF: Oh no. For a number of years, I lived in Thurmond. But when I was first hired, I was living at Meadow Fork. And I walked or caught a ride with somebody down to Thurmond. And then later on, then I started to “batching" down there. After I was married, why then we finally got a house to live in there at Thurmond and, of course, I was right close to my work. And we lived in Thurmond then for a number of years, and we moved into this community in 1945. And I had to commute from here then to Thurmond. Of course, by that time, in the fifties I guess it was, I was able to buy an automobile, and I drove in my own car.
PN: When you lived in Meadow Fork, what type of a house did you live in?
SF: It was just the average coal company house.
PN: And then when you moved to Thurmond, and said you were batching, where did you live then?
SF: I lived in one of the shanties that were made possible by the railroad companies for its employees, because see they didn't have too many accommodations for the employees, and most especially the Black employees. And they set off several boxcars that were outfitted for fairly comfortable living. And this is how we had to, we had to live.
PN: Are those similar to the boxcars that still sit along the road?
SF: That's right, you see some of them now. I lived in one of those boxcars.
PN: How many of those boxcars were there, would you say, when you were living in them?
SF: Oh, when I was living in one, I guess in that particular area, there must have been, maybe eight or ten, maybe 12.
PN: How many men would live in them?
SF: well sometimes there would be three or four men to a car. You see, and then in some instances there were more. Of course, they had double bunks in them, and maybe there would be four men sleeping in one end of the car, and the other end was the kitchen and the cooking area.
PN: Where were the boxcars located then, in about the same place they are now?
SF: Yea, the same place they are now.
PN: Did many people come in and work during the week, and leave during the weekends?
SF: Oh yea, see many of the people — lots of the whites too, for that matter — lived in, come out of Virginia. And they would work through the week and then go home over the weekend. See this was just a temporary thing. There were just one or two men, maybe, who for a short period of time moved their families into a situation like that. Most of them came from Buckingham County, Virginia and Louisa County, Virginia. And oh, it would be a sight to see them, oh with their suitcases going home for the weekend.
PN: Let me ask this question which just occurred to me. Several people that I have spoken to have mentioned Buckingham County, Virginia. Do you any explanation why so many people who worked in Thurmond and along the gorge seemed to come from that particular place?
SF: Well, it was sort of like a chain reaction. You see, Virginia 's farming country. Well, when the mines, the coal mines opened up, well here was the kind of money that those people had never heard of. And many of them came out here and worked in the mines. And they commuted home the same way, although many of them moved their families into the mining communities. And it was sort of clannish—like. For instance, I come out and get a job, and I'd get a job for, recommend my brother, or my uncle, or so on, or good friends. And so word passed, word passed along. And there for a long time, most of the men — Blacks who worked at the round house came out of Louisa County, Virginia. They were either related or good friends.
PN: And what years would you say they first came to Thurmond?
SF: Well this goes farther back than I could remember, because when, see I was born in 1911. Well now, I didn't have whole lots of knowledge of what was happening around until I was, well about eight or nine years old. And see, this was going on then. But I would suggest that when the mine industry opened up in this area, why people started to coming into the area. There were lots of people that came [here] from the Deep South. They came, they came mostly into the coal—mining communities. They used to run what they called "transportations”. Here would be a man that knew lots of people in a certain area. Well, he would be given x—number of dollars to go and round workers. And the coal companies would pay him and pay their fares. And they called this “transportation" this is where lots of people came into the area.
PN: What states would they come from, generally?
SF: To begin with, most of the people who came in that I have, as far back as I can remember, came out of Alabama. Now there were lots of, there were a few people out of the Carolinas. But many of the mining communities were filled with Alabamians.
PN: Would they come from, say, Jefferson County or Jasper County, Alabama?
SF: Well, it's a funny thing about people from Virginia and the Deep South too; you would never know exactly where they came from. Because they'd have a mailing address at some large town. See — Bessemer, Birmingham in Alabama, now those are principal cities. Most all of them would give you that kind of an address. And the same way with the people In Virginia. The people in Buckingham County, they mostly said as their address Buckingham Courthouse. In Louisa County, it was Louisa County Courthouse. You get off the train and ride all day to get out in the woods where they live. But it sounds prestigious, you know, to have a mailing address at those larger towns. [laughs] I used to have a friend who was a native Alabamian. And I'd ask him sometimes, just for the fun of it, "Where did you come from?" And he would say, "Pittsboig". But here was that southern accent, see, but he was really an Alabamian. But he didn't want that touch. But he'd always say "Pittsboig”.
PN: Were many of those men miners in Alabama before they came up here?
SF: I don't think so. I think they got more of their mining experience here in West Virginia, although there are coal mines in Alabama.
PN: Let me just go back to some other things you were mentioning. You said that after you got married, you moved out of the shanties or boxcars into a house. That was in Thurmond?
SF: No, I didn't move to Thurmond then. I moved to Newlyn.
PN: Newlyn.
SF: Mm. We lived in two rooms that we rented from a friend who worked in the mines. And of course, he was the landlord. But we were good friends, and he rented us two rooms to live in until we could establish something better.
PN: What year was that?
SF: In 1931, the ninth day of August, is when we married. And the next week, then we moved into the two rooms that we had rented up in this coal—mining community .
PN: And what did you use the two rooms for? One as a bedroom and…
SF: Yea, we just had a bedroom and a kitchen. The kitchen was an all—purpose place. [laughs]
PN: How long did you stay there in Newlyn?
SF: Oh, we lived there maybe two or three years. And then, when the panic came, or the Depression, why I had to, I was furloughed. And I worked in the mines again for, from 1933 until 1935, when I stood for re—employment. And during that time, I worked for the Newlyn Coal Company for a while. And then, I wasn't doing too well there. I left there, and went to work for Mason Coal Company over on Piney Branch.
PN: Mesa?
SF: Mason Coal Company. And this was an experience. I loaded coal with another companion for, at Newlyn, and we dug it with a pick, for 41 cents a ton. And then one day, the superintendent came in, and they gave us a long talk — lecture — and informed us that they had reduced our per—ton rate to 40 cents. And I’ll never forget; he said to us, “Now, if anybody can't live with it, why you're free to go and get you another job." But where were we going? And the thing that upset me, he took about an hour to explain this all to us when I could have been loading another car of coal But I left there and went over to, over on, to the Mason Coal Company on Piney Branch, and I had a job there loading machine coal. It was cut with a low—vein machine. Now this was a real experience. The coal was 26 inches tall; it just come up to my knees. And we, my friend and I, had been given a job on the night shift. And I never will forget the first night that I reported for work. I kept looking for the coal. And finally I asked him, one of the fellows that was taking us in, and I said, "Where's the coal?" And he said, "There it is." And about six inches above the top of the rail was a little vein of coal. Of course, after we got deeper in to where we were going to work in what they call a room, just off of the entry, well the coal turned out to be 26 inches tall. And they had to shoot slate above the coal for the roadway, so you could load coal. But when you get back into where you were working, why you had to, you had to get down on your knees and almost kiss the ground to get the coal up. But I learned to make a living like that. But I was very happy, I was very happy when I didn't have to go into that place anymore.
PN: Was that cut with a cutting machine?
SF: Yes, that was cut with a, that was cut with a coal—cutting machine.
PN: A coal—cutting machine?
SF: Mm.
PN: And then you came in and loaded it after…?
SF: Yea, after the machine, yea, after the place was cut, the machine backed out. And sometime, we would have to shoot the coal down, move the, they called it "bug dust," move that dust out from under the cutting place. They cut it from the bottom, from the bottom. And we would load that bug dust out, and then put a shot In, and shoot the coal down. And they'd run the car then up the center of the place. And my buddy worked one side, and I worked the other side. And this is how we made a living.
PN: How did you manage to get yourself in there and a shovel in 26 inches of coal?
SF: Well, you had a straight—handled shovel. You couldn't use a shovel with a, what they called a high—vein shovel. See the shovel was flat.
PN: A high—what shovel?
SF: A high—vein shovel. You'd tear your hands all to pieces, in fact you just couldn't work. The shovels were straightened out flat and you would crawl up. I would take my dinner with me, and I'd leave it out on the entry. You were so cramped up, nobody ate while they were in there. Most of us ate our dinners when we came outside. I lived about three miles, maybe four miles, from where I worked down at Royal, across the river from Prince. So I had plenty of time to get the exercise and digest the food after work, now. That was an experience.
PN: Was it even possible, like to drink something when you were in that low coal?
SF: Oh yea, you'd get out in the roadway where the slate was shot, see, to give you, the motor travel room. You'd drink water. But you just didn't want to eat in there all cramped up like that.
PN: How many hours a day did you have to work at that time?
SF: We worked eight hours.
PN: What did you get paid for that?
SF: Well see, we got paid per ton. And we would, we could only load about four, maybe once in a while we would load eight, cars between us. And the cars would weigh around two ton per car.
PN: And that would be two men?
SF: Yes, we split that on the tonnage straight down the middle.
PN: What did you get paid a ton at that time?
SF: For that machine coal, we got paid 35 cents a ton.
PN: And then in 1935, you got your job back?
SF: I didn't get that, my regular job back. When they started, when we were coming out of the Depression and they started to rebuild the tracks, they extended the privilege to all the men who had been furloughed to sign for a job on the section. And I worked that summer on the section. And then by fall, why I stood for extra work then at the freight house and baggage room. And I worked extra then until 1936, and I fell heir to a regular job. And then I had a regular job from that time until I was retired in 1969.
PN: What does extra work" mean?
SF: Well, you worked when someone laid off; or when there was an excess of freight to be handled they'd call one of the cut—off men. See, this was extra. I made lots of money working as an extra, because most all the men were older men, and they would want off for some reason or another. And when they knew that I was willing to work their shifts for them, why I picked up, at one point, I guess I made almost as much working extra, as an extra employee, as some of the regular employees. But I managed to survive.
PN: When you didn't get extra work, did you work on the section then?
SF: No, they wouldn't allow us, they wouldn't allow us to work on two payrolls. When I stood for extra work, or when I was marked up back in the transportation department, I had to stay with that. And when I didn't have anything else to do during hunting season, why I took my old trusty shotgun and went out shot me a squirrel or two or a rabbit.
PN: This leads me into another thing. What did you usually do for re— creation, hunting and fishing?
SF: I never did learn to fish, but I taught myself to hunt. And this was a rewarding experience. You go out in the woods. And some days I would be successful and kill, during squirrel season, kill several squirrels; during the rabbit season, kill a few rabbits; or shoot a quail or so, a pheasant. And there for a long time, that was the meat on our table. Because during the Depression, the wages at that point, my wages was $2.84 a day when I worked an eight—hour shift. And some days, I would not work eight hours continuous. We'd work a split shift. We'd work so many hours, and then they would relieve me, or relieve us. And then we'd come back and work four more hours. And there have been times when it took me 12 hours to get six hours actual work — paying, because of the on and off.
PN: Did you live right in Thurmond?
SF: Yea, I lived right in Thurmond, yes.
PN: Did you live on the south side or in the main part?
SF: No, I lived over in the north side, the main part of Thurmond.
PN: Where, above where the Banker's Club is now?
SF: No, the Blacks were not permitted to live in that part of town. We had some houses up east of the railroad station on the hill.
PN: On the hillside?
SF: Mm.
PN: Is that where, if you take that road which goes up the hill today, in that vicinity?
SF: Just east of that road, yea. When you take that road around the hill, it turns right where it used to be a community church. Now we lived on beyond, on beyond that. There used to be, I guess, maybe 12, 15 little huts stuck along the hillside. I lived in one of them.
PN: How many rooms were in those?
SF: The house that I lived in had three rooms. Most of them had three, or four small rooms.
PN: Did the railroad build them?
SF: Oh no, no. They belonged to the McKell heirs. See, the two brothers, one of them was, well their father bought lots of land from Thurmond back up Loup Creek. They had lots of coal interests, and they owned that part of Thurmond and they rented those houses out.
PN: When you lived in Thurmond, in terms of your social life, did you often meet miners from some of the surrounding communities?
SF: Oh yes. You see, Thurmond was sort of a terminus. And people, at one time, the railroad was the only outlet for the mining communities. It was a long time before they had a highway down there. And the trains that travelled up Loup Creek that touched all the coal mines. And this was the only mode of travel.
PN: In these years, in the thirties, did you ever grow a garden?
SF: Oh yes, yes, you learned to do lots of things. [laughs]
PN: Was that a significant part of your food, or your diet?
SF: Yes, yes.
PN: What did you usually grow?
SF: Well beans and potatoes and corn, small stuff like that.
PN: Let me just switch slightly. I want to ask you something about this before the tape runs out. When did you, you know, build a church? And did you have churches before when you were working on the railroad?
SF: Yes. Now the first Black church was started, was the outgrowth rather, of debating society literary society. And this commenced in what was the living quarters for the employees at the old Dunglen Hotel. And they got along so well they organized a Sunday School. And from that then, they organized a church. And this took place from my mother's history, I believe; she has since passed about 1913 or 14. And that is when the group grew too large for the limited quarters they had on the south side, at the living quarters of the old Dunglen Hotel. They moved across the river to a rooming house, and they were permitted to use the large room, assembly room, upstairs over this restaurant, combination restaurant and a rooming house. And then, in the later years, must have been around in the teens — '17 or '18 they got together then and moved the church services back across the river to a school building. And in the early twenties, then they were able to, with the help of the McKell heirs, they were given a little piece of ground and they built a church on the side of the hill, in what was known then as the Dunglen section of Thurmond. The railroad, it was a railroad station stop, and they called it South Side. I went to, I went to church school in that setting when I was old enough. And my wife and I became Christians the same year in that little church. That holds some fond memories for us.
PN: And is that same congregation the congregation that you 're the pastor of today?
SF: No, no, they're only two Black people in Thurmond now — a widow woman and a friend of mine, Clinton Tinsley. I imagine you may have run into him.
PN: Clinton Tinsley?
SF: Yea, has an artificial leg. He lives in the little house after you get into Thurmond before you cross the railroad bridge, where the road turns and crosses Loup Creek and goes up New River. He lives in a little house right at that bridge.
PN: When did you become a pastor of a church yourself?
SF: Oh, in 1936, I guess I became pastor of my first congregation. And that was down on Cotton Hill Mountain. And I would ride a train to Cotton Hill, and walk up the mountain to Beckwith.
PN: Oh, cause you lived in Thurmond?
SF: I lived in Thurmond.
PN: And when was the church right next door here originally built?
SF: This is the white Methodist church, and I would have to look on that bulletin board.
PN: Oh, you 're not associated with that?
SF: No, no. We 're good friends; but see, I am a member of the Baptist church. And our church is the church that you see down over the hill, just as you follow the road around. Our church sets down over, below the, below the road.
PN: Are you still the active minister of that church?
SF: No, no. I 'm not the active minister here. This is the church of our membership after we left Thurmond. But my pastorate was, up until the first Sunday in October, was at the First Baptist Church, White Sulphur Springs. I commuted from here over there. I was with that congregation for 16 years.
PN: Wow, until last month?
SF: Until, yes, until last month. And I'm the minister at the First Baptist Church, Union, over in Monroe County now.
[The first of two reels for Interview Twenty—Two ended on the previous page. That part was conducted on November 12, 1980.]
Oral History Project - Frazier, Stewart H. Jr. Part 2
African american, Railroading 1929-1969, Thurmond, McKendree Hospital, Black Churches
— The second of two reels for Interview Twenty—Two begins here. This part was conducted on November 25, 1980.
PN: Rev. Frazier, maybe we could follow up some of the material that you were discussing in the last interview. First, I was wondering if you could describe your experiences at McKendree Hospital, when you were the chaplain there.
SF: Well that was a wonderful experience. I had been asked at various times if I would come and just give 'em a service. I kept putting it off. But finally I had the time, and I decided, well, I’ll run up there this Sunday, and I’ll get this off my back. And so I rode the local train, Number Fourteen — just the even numbers run east; the odd numbers run west. And I had planned to conduct the service and get back on Thirteen, and then I would be through with McKendree. But I was so overwhelmed with what I found there, and the needs that I found, I not only spent the whole Sunday afternoon and rode the late train back to Thurmond, but I had agreed to go back to the home each convenient Sunday. And finally I resigned a local church that I was pastoring, and gave that time to the institution and its people. And another church that I was pastoring down at Stone Cliff - oh, the church that I resigned was at Thayer — and the church at Stone Cliff finally went down because the mines blew out, the people moved away. And I found myself giving full—time to the old folks at the institution. And for a long period of time, I conducted three services each Sunday two services up on the ward and then, two services in the chapel, I beg your pardon, and one service on the ward. I say on the ward, this was on the ward where the immobile patients were. And 1 carried the service to them. And then I would go on Wednesday evenings for a mid—week service. And during this time, I was employed by the C. and O. Railway. And it was just my good fortune to have a boss—man who was in sympathy with what I was doing. And he allowed me all the free time possible. And so I was never penalized on my job for the time that I spent minstering to the inmates. And this was, this was a most wonderful experience. But here it started out as just a service to get rid of something. And all of a sudden, here I find myself going full—time.
PN: What was the year that you conducted the first service there?
SF: This was in, I guess 41.
PN: And how long did you continue?
SF: I, I stayed with the institution until the institution was finally integrated, and they moved the older, old folks back to Huntington. Well, they spread them out, carried some to Denmar [near Hillsboro in Pocahontas County] and other places. But the, the institution per se, they relocated back in Huntington. This was in the fift—, the early fifties.
PN: And they closed down McKendree?
SF: They closed, yea, they down completely.
PN: Do you know what year exactly that was?
SF: Not as I can remember. That must have been in 51 - '50 or '51.
PN:And do you know what year that McKendree changed from a hospital to become an old folks' home.
SF: No, not being associated with the institution at that time, I didn't pay much attention to that.
PN: Was that a negative step, in some ways, do you think that they closed down McKendree, and took that facility away? Or do you think that was basically a positive thing?
SF: Do you mean when they moved the old folks back?
PN: No, this was a positive step. You see, because prior to that it was a segregated institution. The white people, older white people, were at Sweet Springs, and our people were there at McKendree. And so when they integrated the institutions, this was a, this was more positive. And oh, I missed the association with the, with the people and so on, but I was glad for them because this meant for a better, a better life for them.
PN: When, in the years between 1941 and 1951, that you were travel ling to McKendree every Sunday and Wednesday, I was wondering if you could just describe what the town looked like. Or, is it correct to call it a town?
ST: Well, it was just, just a little, just a little, a little community. No, it wasn't, wasn't a town, just a little community. Cause the hospital was the only thing there.
PN: Were there any stores, or anything like that there?
SF: Maybe at one point, there vas a little concession across the tracks from the, where the train stopped. But this was just an indi—, an individual type of thing. You know, how people see probably an opportunity to make themselves a little, a little extra change. And I don't know who the people were that lived there, but they had a little concession stand there for the benefit of people that would be getting on and off of the train.
PN: Did the people that were employed at the institution at that time, did they live in McKendree?
SF: Yes, yes, they, they had rooms there at the, you see, what, what used to be the nurse's home and the doctor or staff quarters this was converted into living quarters for the employees. The superintendent of the institution and his staff lived, lived there, and the employees. Oh, they may have been, maybe one or two employees that drove in. But for the most part, they, it was a live—in situation.
PN: Were most, or all, of the employees Black at that time?
SF: With the exception, for a while, of the farmer. Now down below the institution, there was a farmer. This was a carry—over from the old hospital days. He was resident farmer.
PN: A farmer?
SF: Yes, and for a while after the institution was changed, why he farmed, run the farm for the institution. But that didn't last too, too long. And aside from him and his family, why then the other employees were Black.
PN: Did the farmer grow most of the food?
SF: A goodly portion of it.
PN: Really?
SF: I don't know just how much, how much acreage they had there. But they, they had a pretty good—sized farm. And this was all that he did. He raised vegetables, and he raised hogs, and chickens and so on, yea. And it was, it was a pretty nice affair. But then as the appropriations grew smaller, you see, now when the, when the old folks, when the West Virginia Home for the Aged, of course, moved in, I think they moved them in there on the appropriation for the state hospital, which at that time I'm pretty certain was $56, 000. But then they didn't have an appropriation that large afterwards. And so there wasn't money enough then, and it wasn't productive either, to main— , continue to maintain the farm and the farmer. And so then they moved away.
PN: Is there anything else about McKendree that you think is significant to mention?
SF: Well, I think, I think this, I think this perhaps is significant. Cause we had some of the finest people there as staff as, as you would find. The first superintendent that I worked with was a Dr. George Banks from Huntington. And he wasn't there too long after, after I started going in, until the, they appointed a Methodist preacher and a retired Army officer, Lt. Theodore Thornhill. And he was, he was a most unusual person, and the care for the people. Now the institution wasn't as clean as he thought it should have been, and he spent a lots of time and money cleaning up those to make it presentable and desirable place for the inmates. And I will never forget how rigid he was with the employees. He didn't allow the old people to be abused by the employees. And there had been a few times that he had dismissed employees on the spot for their apparent abuse of the inmates. And he never allowed anything on his table, or the staff's table, that was not on the inmates' table. And this was most unique, because in so many instances, why they have the finer things for their, for the staff, and the inmates have what's left. So I think this would be something that would be worthy of mentioning. And it became the last stop for the Institutions Investigating Committee. They always wound up their tour of the institutions at McKendree so that they would have dinner at the Home for the Aged Colored People at McKendree. So that gives you an idea how nice the place was.
PN: Was Mr. Thornhill white, or was he Black?
SF: He was Black, mm.
PN: You mentioned that when you were very young that you went to McKendree as a patient.
SF: Oh yes. My mother took me to the hospital. In fact, she at one time was employed at the hospital. And I developed this adenoid and tonsil problem. And she carried me to the McKendree Hospital. That's where I lost my adenoids and tonsils. And so even though I was just a youngster, going back there in later years to carry a religious service to a group of old people had a sentimental touch to it.
PN: And how old were you then when you were in the hospital as a patient?
SF: I was between six and seven years old. So as I'd walk around through there, through the halls where, I had the memory of one time that I was down in the operating room.
PN: Was the hospital segregated at that time in any way?
SF: Well yes, most everything was. The colored people, or Black people, they were on wards to themselves just like the, just the white people were.
PN: Were the employees, such as nurses and doctors, did they stay either on the white section or the Black section, or did they move around?
SF: Well now, they, yes, they, they had, they had their separate quarters; yes, they had their separate quarters. Now I don't know of any, of any Black nurses at that, at that time. But the cooks and the orderlies and the maids and so on they were all Black.
PN: They were all Black?
SF: Mm. Of course, this was the, this was the trend. You consider the period of time that you’re thinking back into, and this was not an unusual thing .
PN: What years are you talking about, the twenties?
SF: I'm talking about before the twenties, yes, before the twenties. So this was not frowned on too largely, because it was the commonly—accepted thing.
PN: Was that true up through the twenties and the thirties also?
SF: Yea.
PN: When was McKendree Hospital originally built, do you know?
SF: No, I don't, I don't know too much about that history, because when I became old enough, got old enough to know, to notice what was going on, the hospital was there. Now this Clinton Tinsley that I referred you to some time back, now he could give you that background information.
PN: And after 1951, when the institution finally closed down, what, what happened to the physical buildings there?
SF: The vandals wrecked it. To have gone back there a year after the place was abandoned, and to remember what it was like two years before, you couldn't help but shed tears.
PN: That quickly?
SF: Yea.
PN: So you couldn't even recognize it really after…
SF: No, no. Oh, the old structure stood, but then people just went there and carried stuff off and destroyed all of it. This, this was a, was a beautiful, was a beautiful place there.
PN: The pictures I 've seen, it seemed to be a really beuatiful place. Let me switch to another institution, if that would be OK.
SF: All right.
PN: When we were speaking last time, you talked a little bit about the Dunglen Hotel. I was wondering if you could describe that a little bit more fully, and everything that happened there, and what that meant to the community.
SF: Well, I don't think I would be able to, to describe everything that went on there, because there were so many things that happened. But the Dunglen Hotel in Thurmond was, this was just like going to Philadelphia or New York. This was, this was the meeting place of businesses, the coal operators sit there; buyers for the company stores [went] to the Dunglen Hotel to meet the salesmen well, they called them “drummers" then. They would bring their samples, and they had all these display rooms there, and they would spread their wares out. And the people did their buying. NOW I guess the Dunglen Hotel in Thurmond had the same kind of prominence, considering the difference in the time, as the Greenbrier enjoys now. And I've heard em talk about the poker games that went on and on and on. But just it is known at the Greenbrier, you could go there to the Dunglen Hotel and you wouldn't have to leave. You could get anything that you wanted, and some people got lots of things that they didn't want. But it was, it was, it was a great place. And there was a bridge that spanned the Loop Creek and went over to the train stop on, on the South Side. And of course, at that time, there were passenger trains up and down Loop Creek, and they all stopped for persons going to the Dunglen Hotel. And to have seen that place at night, now this was something beautiful. Because the bridge was, had lights on it, from the hotel all the way across to the main station, railroad station, up on the north side. And they turned those lights on at train time. Of course, this was, it was not only, not so much for the beauty, but for the safety of people who, that walked across there. Because very few people dared to cross New River going into the hotel or going over into the little settlement they called Ballyhack.
PN: What was it?
SF: Ballyhack, that was, that was, there was a little town, a little settlement…
PN: Ballyhack?
SF: Yea, and they called it Ballyhack. And that too had lots of colorful history too. Because there was a saloon over there, and one place, and one great huge building they called the "Blackhawk. And this was, was where lots of things went on too. It's just, it's unbelievable to see what is left, and remembering what, what used to be there.
PN: Where was Ballyhack? Was that on the Thurmond side of the river?
SF: This was on what they called the South Side.
PN: The South Side?
SF: Yes, this was on the same side as the hotel. You see the town of Thurmond was all across, all across the river over to the north side, where the passenger station, railroad station was.
PN: And the bridge you were talking about, it went over Loop Creek?
SF: Yes, this was just, this was a small, this was a small bridge that connected the Dunglen Hotel with the, the railroad coming across from Thurmond. They had a little, they had a little, little canopy of affair there with seats, and the people would wait under that shelter for the Loop Creek passenger train to come across from Thurmond, and go up Loop Creek or to return from Price Hill back into Thurmond…
PN: Say, if people wanted to go from the Dunglen Hotel to the main station over at Thurmond…
SF: Yea, they walked across that bridge that spanned the Loop Creek, and then proceeded to, on across the, the big bridge into, into Thurmond.
PN: Then they'd walk across the big bridge that's still there today?
SF: Yea, that's still there today. See, it had a walkway on it, and, and it had the lights all the way.
PN: On the big bridge?
SF: Oh yes, oh yes. Nobody walked across there unprotected after dark.
PN: When you mentioned Ballyhack, who lived there? Was that railroad workers?
SF: Well, yea, there were lots of railroad workers that lived there. And, I don't know how many houses. Well, just everywhere there was a little space, there was, there was a house there.
PN: That was down towards the south of the Dunglen Hotel?
SF: Yes, back in the direction that the highway follows now, coming up Loop Creek.
PN: Was it mostly Black people or white people that lived in Ballyhack?
SF: It was Black and white, yes.
PN: And you'd mentioned Weewind before. That was further up, wasn't it?
SF: Yes now, no, no. Now this was still on the South Side, but about a mile or so below Thurmond. Weewind was almost straight across from Thurmond.
PN: And that's where Arbuckle…
SF: That's where Arbuckle Creek empties into New River at.
PN: And who lived there, anybody in particular?
SF: No, I didn't know too much, I didn't know too much about, about that place. Now, this was just a little mining community, but I do believe that
PN: Weewind was?
SF: Yes.
PN: Mining?
SF: Back in the twenties, some people by the name of Bear, operated the mine there for a while.
PN: What, Bear?
SF: Bear, yea . That was, well see most of the little places that were beginning to fade out, and finally became non—existent. It's only in the minds of people who did remember it.
PN: And you said that the Dunglen was a pretty wide open place, or something.
Maybe you could elaborate a little bit on that, if you wanted to.
SF: Well, they, they did some of every, some of everything there. They did some of everything there. Just like you find, well, on a smaller scale, you could compare it with Las Vegas.
PN: It must have been pretty lively.
SF: Oh yes, yes it was lively. And when I was in my early teens, I worked at the Dunglen Hotel as a porter. The man that operated the hotel at that time was a railroader. His name was Robert Higgins. He and his family operated the hotel. But of course, the, this was the, the prominence and so on had begun to fade out. Now that was, it wasn't the big thing that it had been in times past, or he would have never been able to have gotten a hold of it. And toward the last, it became more or less just more or less a rooming house.
PN: Really?
SF: Mm.
PN: You worked there for a couple of years?
SF: Oh about a year. For $25 a month, and board and room. But I was too young to occupy my room at the hotel. I had to report to my Mama, my mother's home every evening shortly after 7:00. I went on duty at 7:00 in the morning, and stayed on duty till 7:00 in the evening. But my mother didn't think that that was a desirable place for a kid 15 years old to spend the night by himself, so I had to [laughs] to sleep at home.
PN: Where did they serve meals? Did they have big, big dining rooms?
SF: Yes, they had, yes, they had a big dining room. I don't know how many waiters [and] waitresses that they must have employed there. But it was, it was it was a sumptuous place. Were most of the employees Black at the time, or…?
SF: Yes, yes. They, they had Black and white employees. But the Black employees were maids, porters, and bell boys, and handymen, and maintenance people. But here again, this was not a unique thing in itself, because this was, you know, [the] pattern for the, for the time. And I guess that those people were just as proud of working at the Dunglen Hotel, as lots of people enjoy the same prestige now working in some, in some of the more prestigious positions. They had their own power plant, and their own ice—making plant. Then they had a small farm too along the, along the river bank. They raised their hogs, and plus they, the feed cost, they fed the scraps from the, from the hotel to the hogs. Of course, they had to supplement with other, other food. But then this was how that they, they managed it.
PN: The hotel owned the farm, and the…
SF: Yea, yea, mm.
PN: How many people could stay at the hotel, if it was full?
SF: Oh I, I, I wouldn't have an idea how many would at the capacity then. But I do know from the conversations that I've had with people who were much older, there were times when you couldn't get a room.
PN: What was the year that you were working there - 1925?
SF: Yea 1925, '26.
PN: And at that time, it was beginning to…
SF: Oh yes, oh yes, it was, the bottom had begun dropping. See because here you just coming into the, to the Depression. And it was on its way, on its way out.
PN: And this transition you mentioned between being strictly a hotel, and being a rooming house, had already begun to take place?
SF: Oh yes, it had already begun to, begun to take place.
PN: But you could still get a room for an evening, if you wanted to?
SF: Oh yes.
PN: If you were passing through on a train?
SF: Yes, yes. At that time, there was no problem getting a room. If you had, you had the, the, the money, you could get a room all right.
PN: What did it cost to get a room at that time?
SF: Well now, I don't know what the higher—priced rooms were, but two or three dollars for the cheaper rooms. There were certain sections, you know, where it was kind of rough. Those rooms were, were a little cheaper. And in that part, why you was there almost at your own -risk too. [laughs]
PN: You mean right in the hotel there were real different sections?
SF: Oh yes, yes. There were some residents who were not allowed on the, in the higher class section.
PN: Really?
SF: Oh yea. Street people, they didn't allow them up. Now they, they were up on the third floor, and then the, the higher class people, see, had the, the better part up there of the hotel.
PN: So that wasn't necessarily segregated by race?
SF: Oh no, no, no. It was, see now, it just was not, a Black person renting a room at the Dunglen Hotel this was just out of the question. See, because there was, you understand, this was still back in the, in the period of segregation. And so they didn't have any problem because the Black folk knew not to, not go there expecting to rent a room. To be a maid, bellhop, or porter — well this, this was the extent. And then they had quarters for the Black people to live in. This was a huge building a few hundred yards from the hotel. And this was where all the Black employees stayed. Of course, the white employees stayed in the main hotel; they had certain sections there for them too.
PN: What was the other building you referred to? Was it like a boarding house?
SF: Yea, well they, they called it which I guess was the proper name for it — they called it “The Quarters”. This is where the, where the
Blacks stayed.
PN: Was that owned by the hotel also?
SF: Yes, that was, yea, that was owned by the hotel.
PN: Say some, you know, Black person was travelling through on the train, and wanted to stop at Thurmond overnight. Was there a hotel that he or she could go to?
SF: Yes, now over on the, on the Thurmond side, or the north side, there was a, a restaurant and a rooming house, just a short distance from the, from the passenger station, I mean this is where Black people stayed.
PN: What was the name of that, do you remember?
SF: I don't think it had any particular name. It just was sort of a combination affair — the store in the lower part and the restaurant, and then upstairs, there were rooms for rent. It, just a rooming house more or less, sort of a combination rooming house. It didn't have any particular name.
PN: Do you remember when we were speaking the previous time, you talked that, or you mentioned that there was a, that church services were held in the basement of the Dunglen where there was a room?
SF: No, the original services started in, I guess it would have been the recreation room at the, in the service quarters. And it started as sort of a literary society. And from that, they commenced to having prayer meetings, which caught on pretty well. And then they decided to, to organize a Sunday School and a church. So then they went across the river then, and they got permission to hold religious services in the, I guess it would have been considered the lobby of this, this, this rooming house upstairs. And from there then, they worked out plans to establish a church and for, but when they outgrew that place, then they got permission to conduct religious services in the county schoolhouse across, they went back across, came back across the river and used the, the county schoolhouse for a number of years. And then in the early twenties, a group of people got together and they got, they were given a little land from the McKe11 heirs. And they built a church building, still on the, on the South Side — just up the tracks a little ways from what used to be the old Blackhawk. Now this was a dive, sort of, we would call it now a jungle. But they built a church, and they had good attendance. In fact, the old church building still stands. But there's only just one Black person now living in Thurmond. But there's a minister who, up until last year, continued to try to have services there, because there were a few people just out of sentiment, see, would go, go back there. And I was converted and joined a church there at Thurmond. And this is where I married my childhood schoolmate, sweetheart; we were married in that church. And a year after, just about a year after we were married, I commenced preaching. I preached my first sermon in that little church.
PN: Was that 1929?
SF: No, this was in 1932. We married in 1931, the ninth day of August. And on the third Sunday in June of the next year, I started the ministry.
PN: When you mentioned that the congregation, or church, was originally founded as a literary society, and met in "The Quarters, what year was that?
SF: This carries me back now before this, I believe I remember Mother telling me that in 1912 or 1913.
PN: The year it started?
SF: Yea. Because it was during the time when she was first employed at the, at the hotel. And this, these were the early years that she was, that she was employed there.
PN: What did she do when she was working there?
SF: She was a maid?
PN: And she lived, and you lived right in Thurmond, on the South Side there?
SF: She lived at the, at the, at the quarters. See now, I, of course, did not live with her. I lived with my grandmother up in Minden, West Virginia. I was a pretty good—sized boy — I must have been six or seven years old - before 1 knew anything about Thurmond. Because it was long about that time when my mother took me; and of course she had left the hospital then, and she had worked at the, at the, I meant to say the hotel, she had worked at the hospital for, after…
PN: Before then?
SF: After that time. And I guess it was because of her acquaintance with the hospital that made it easier for her to take me. That, of course, was the only hospital that was available to us too during those years. I guess the other, the other closest hospital was down in the Montogmery area.
PN: During this whole period then in the late teens and the twenties, what, what would you say, or what role did the B lack church play there in Thurmond?
SF: Well the, the Black church was, it was a stablizing force in the community — well—attended and supported. There were lots of transients too in Thurmond. Lots of people, mostly out of, out of Virginia, that worked, personnel on the railroad. And they worshipped at the, at the church. And they would go back to their home churches, as they call it, for the summer homecomings, or the anniversaries or something like that. But then they worshipped and supported the church. And it was meaningful during those years.
PN: Were there any Black—owned businesses in Thurmond or the area?
SF: The store that I mentioned earlier and the combination rooming house and shoe shop. It was a Black, what do you call them, shoemaker. there in Thurmond. And this was all of the, this was all of the businesses.
PN: Those three?
SF: Yea, yea.
PN: So it was a rooming house on the north side?
SF: Yea.
PN: And the shoe shop on the north side?
SF: The shoe shop, for a while, was on the South Side. And then finally, in the later years, this old gentleman set up business over on the South Side [meaning the north side] . He was in business there until the, until there was a fire back in the, in the twenties that, that destroyed: the drugstore, the general mercantile store, the shoe shop, theater, and so on. And he than had to, had to find another location. And this is when he found a suitable place over on the South Side. In fact, he was in…
PN: The South Side?
SF: On the [correcting himself] north side, in the basement then of the, what had been the rooming house and, combination rooming house and store, he had his shoe shop.
PN: The store that you mentioned that was Black—owned, was that over on the north side?
SF: Yes, that was on the north side.
PN: Was that connected with the restaurant, or was that a sep—, and the rooming house, was that a separate…
SF: Well, I don' t know too much about the set—up. I think maybe there were several people in this to—, in this together. And just like you find in some of the modern complexes; you get two or three people that, that have a business in a general location. But that was, that was all of the, all of the businesses. In fact there was no opportunity, or no particular reason for any other, any, any kind of business there.
PN: you were talking briefly before about the roads being built, in the CCC and WPA, I was wondering if you could just say a couple of words about, you know, the role of WPA.
SF: Well, see that was a sort of relief valve for people during the Depression, and this took a lots of people off of direct relief. And they, wherever there was a little road to be built or other, some of the, some of the, the communities had sanitary work that was done by people on the WPA. And there Isn't really much to, to say about it, because it was just sort of a stop—gap, you see, between starvation and walking around, and making, eking out an existence. It was one of the, you know, one of the political things that happened for, to help the economy during that period of time.
PN: And they'd hire both white and Black people, didn't they, to work?
SF: Yea, yea, of course, your politics made the difference as to whether you got a job or not — just like it, just like it is now. [laughs] If your politics were right, why you got a job on the road. If they weren't, why you got a, some kind of a subsistence check.
PN: You said that most of the work that WPA did was in building roads?
SF: Yea, building roads and shoring up embankments that were sliding in, and so on.
PN: Were there separate crews for Blacks and whites, or did they work together?
SF: No, no, they, they all worked together then.
PN: That was pretty much what I wanted to ask you. There are about two minutes left on this tape. Is there anything else you want to add?
SF: No, I don't, I don't think there's anything more that I can, that I can add to that. Maybe you've got another question that you would, about something that you'd like to touch on.
PN: One other quick thing you mentioned before, I was wondering if you could discuss this — that there was an explosion at Red Ash, and they renamed the town after that?
SF: Yea, Rush Run. Well, now I was too young to know much of the back— ground about that. See, that's just what I picked up after years that I got old enough to get around and, and discuss and hear people discuss the thing. But this is principally what, what happened, what happened there.
PN: And they renamed it so…
SF: Well, there's lots of places that they had bad accidents and they closed them down for a while, then they'd rename 'em. And of course this made it more attractive, made it easier for, to hire people, see. Because a lots of people would not know anything about a place under a new name. But if you would tell them that this was such—and—such a place that exploded, why then maybe they wouldn't want to go to work there.
