[Vision2020] Mining Coal

[Phil Nisbet]

>From the Richmond Times Dispatch  15 January 2006



Miners aware of job's dangers
'It takes a strong person to do this,' one Virginia worker says


Miners aware of job's dangers
'It takes a strong person to do this,' one Virginia worker says

BY REX BOWMAN
TIMES-DISPATCH STAFF WRITER	Jan 15, 2006


JOHNATHAN BOYD
GRUNDY -- Larry Dunford, an easygoing coal miner who works here in Buchanan 
County, remembers with dispassionate clarity the day a 2-foot chunk of rock 
dropped from the mine ceiling and broke his right foot. He also recalls the 
day a rock sheared off a wall and broke his right leg.

Raymond Ellis Sr., a retired coal miner from Keokee in Lee County, recounts 
almost wistfully the time a stone slab clunked him on the head and knocked 
him out cold. And Charles Parker, another retired miner and Ellis' neighbor, 
calmly laments the three months of work he lost when a rock fell and crushed 
his left foot.

Such is the world of underground coal mining: dirty, dank, dangerous and the 
job of mountaineers who seldom pause to consider that, on any given day, 
they might be digging not just coal but their own grave.

"It takes a strong person to do this type of job," said Ellis, 63. "If 
you're scared, you'll never make it as a miner."

As 56-year-old miner Fairley Spencer, who lives in Tazewell County and works 
in a Wise County mine, put it: "It's like horseback riding. Not everybody 
can jump up and hang on. It takes a determination and a want-to."

With stoic detachment, miners across the hollows of Southwest Virginia's 
coalfields reacted last week to the deaths of 12 miners the preceding week 
in an explosion and cave-in at the Sago mine in Tallmansville, W.Va.

Even when safety procedures are followed and the work crew is experienced, 
they said, tragedy looms. Though the accident might have briefly illuminated 
for outsiders the hazards of the mining life, it revealed nothing miners did 
not already know about the work's perilous nature, they said, and it is 
unlikely to dissuade young Appalachian men from seeking jobs in the mines.

The work is hard and sometimes harrowing. But money lures them to the mines, 
and their nerve keeps them there.

"My dad got mad at me for going into the mines," said Johnathan Boyd, 25, of 
Sunset Hollow in Buchanan, adding that his father is disabled from his years 
as a miner. "But there ain't anything else to do around here to make money."

An experienced coal miner can expect to make at least $21 an hour. A recent 
hiring drive to replace retiring miners has bumped the pay even higher. 
Boyd, in the mines only two years, said he makes $65,000 a year.

Thirty-nine miners have died in Virginia's mines since 1993, according to 
the U.S. Mine Safety and Health Administration. The number could soon jump 
to 40, since the agency must decide whether an Oct. 5 death near a 
coal-processing plant in Buchanan was mining-related. Still, Virginia's mine 
fatalities are far fewer than in neighboring Kentucky (130) and West 
Virginia (127) over the same period.

The deaths and injuries are not a deterrent to those who find their calling 
in the dark holes of Appalachia, according to miners interviewed over 
several days. They rather deem the miseries a testament to the courage of 
those who spend their lives underground, clawing out the coal that fuels the 
nation's power plants.

In Virginia, where the coal industry long ago peaked, 123 mines are still in 
operation, of which 77 are underground. The mines employ fewer than 5,000 
people, a number that has been relatively flat over the past three years, 
said Bill Mezger, senior economist for the Virginia Employment Commission.

The miners who remain said mining is a difficult job, but the money is good 
and, in the end, the work makes them proud.

"You know what tough is?" asked Parker, 58, who worked underground for 26 
years. "Tough is getting up every morning and going into these coal mines, 
and crawling on your hands and knees, and sometimes you're back in there 2 
or 3 miles. And the tunnel might be only 40 inches high, and you might be 
crawling in 6 or 7 inches of mud. If you want to know what it's like being 
in one of those low-ceiling tunnels, get up under your kitchen table and 
stay there all day.

"And once you're in the coal mine, you've got to watch out. Something could 
fall from the ceiling or from the sides. There's gas that could explode, and 
there's coal dust that could explode. There's electrical dangers and big 
machinery in tight spaces that could crush you. There are machines that 
crush rock and coal, and you could get caught up in that."

Nationwide in 2004, there were 4.1 fatal work injuries per 100,000 workers, 
according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Mining averaged 28.3 
fatalities per 100,000 workers, making it the second-deadliest industry 
behind agriculture (30.1 fatalities per 100,000 workers), which includes 
logging, farming and hunting.

In Virginia, miners said mine safety has steadily improved over the years, 
with state and federal inspectors visiting routinely. Last year, the state 
Department of Mines, Minerals and Energy issued 1,992 citations, writing up 
companies for everything from incomplete paperwork and dead light bulbs to 
malfunctioning equipment, said agency spokesman Mike Abbott.

The agency also issued 40 closure orders, temporarily closing mines or mine 
sections and shutting down equipment until companies corrected the 
infractions.

Spencer, who has worked in underground mines for more than 20 years, said 
the enforcement has made a difference.

"You've got more laws, and the federals and the state protect you more than 
they used to. I've been blessed. The only thing that ever happened to me was 
a rib of coal fell on me and bruised me up a bit, but even if I had a 
federal [inspector] standing there looking at me, it would have happened 
anyway."

And that is the attitude among miners: Accidents will happen anyway, 
regardless of the safety measures.

"I was under a rock fall once, and I got scared," Ellis said. "I was scared 
for a while, and whenever I heard something dribbling, I'd jump and run. But 
I got used to it again. You've got to put the danger aside."

"It ain't for everybody," Boyd said. "Something happens every day. Rocks 
drop, equipment runs back and forth. You have to watch out. I've been in 
there when they bring guys in on their first day. They say, 'This ain't for 
me,' and they have to take them out."

Parker said the risks are accepted by those who stay in the mines, yet the 
potential for catastrophe bonds miners together. They look out not only for 
themselves but for those around them, giving them each a measure of comfort.

Dunford, a miner for 21 years of his 52 years, agreed.

"It's more dangerous out on the highway," he said. "On the road, everybody's 
out for number one. In the mines, you watch out for your buddies."

Contact staff writer Rex Bowman at rbowman at timesdispatch.com or (540) 
344-3612.

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