When people are hammered by a horrible tragedy such as the one that occurred in Newtown, Conn., last Friday, it is the most natural human emotion to compare it to local disasters. In West Frankfort, such memories emerge instantly. Especially at this time of the year.
On Dec. 21, 1951, this community took center stage in the world news. The tragedy at the Orient No. 2 Mine 7:35 p.m. Friday, Dec. 21, 1951, which took 119 lives, still lives in the community as if it were yesterday. Much like the loss of the children and educators will live on in Newtown.
When we remember the event, it is not to delve into sadness. It is to honor always those who were lost and the gallant reaction of a community that pulled together to heal itself. It is part of who we are and what we are. Lives were changed forever.
The horror began to unfold early and as the hours passed by, slim hopes began to fade. The Associated Press reported early on: "Hopes faded last night for the rescue of from 50 to 60 men trapped in an explosion-shattered coal mine after 28 burned and torn bodies were brought to the surface. Sweating rescue crews continued their desperate probing through thick smoke and gas to reach the men 550 feet underground at the Orient No. 2 Mine near here (West Frankfort)."
Appeals were broadcast for more rescue volunteers and, as always, miners responded to help their brothers in coal. The junior high school, then located behind the current post office, was converted into a morgue. One local man, L. Goebel Patton, remembers it well. Patton, 99, recalls earlier that evening a basketball game between Marion and West Frankfort, contested at the (then) brand new high school gymnasium (now Max Morris), had been rudely interrupted by a desperate official seeking out a local doctor to go to the mine immediately.
Patton said they came to him on the other side of the gym, watching the game, and asked him to go and open the junior high school building. Patton was superintendent of schools at the time. As word spread, it was reported that about 700 of the 2,000 spectators also left the gym. The scope of the tragedy began to unravel.
History is vague about whether or not an announcement was actually made over the loud speaker at the game.
"I opened the junior high and remained there for about 42 straight hours," Patton said. "It was such a bleak moment. I identified many of the bodies. It was a grim task."
Patton also served later on the coroner's jury defining the accident.
West Frankfort Public Safety Commissioner Jerry Harkins was in the seventh grade and attended Central when the tragedy occurred but he remembers it vividly. His father, Fred, was a firefighter and was in the school helping to identify bodies. "Dad told me to stay outside and not come in," Harkins remembers. He has another grim recollection. When the kids did return to school their eyes would burn from the residue of formaldehyde.
Harkins did put the memories to good use in his career. When he was a safety inspector for Old Ben mines he would tell the sad tale when he talked to new miners. "They really paid attention," he added.
Jim McPhail, public figure and lifetime resident, was a freshman in high school on that fateful day. Like so many others, he was attending the basketball game. He remembers no announcement over the public address but people couldn't help but notice that they were going around to the doctors and medical personnel in the crowd. Soon the word began to circulate that there had been a "bump" in the mine. In the vernacular, all miners at the time knew what that meant. "The crowd began leaving in large numbers. I went down to Central Junior High where a crowd was gathering and getting larger all the time. We just stood around stunned."
McPhail was like everyone else in town. Everyone knew someone who was killed and most knew several. The youngster recalls attending the funeral of Jim Homer Summers, the dad of his buddy. Like many others, the rites were held at his home because the funeral homes were pressed to and beyond their limits. "The funerals seemed endless. There were even some at Christmas. It cast a pall over the holiday. As long as there are people alive who lived through this ordeal, the memories of those miners will live on."
There are a thousand such stories throughout West Frankfort and each teller seems to remember it as vividly as though it happened yesterday. This newspaper chronicled it for weeks, months and years to come. West Frankfort was center stage for the world press with journalists coming from around the nation. Wherever the mineral was extricated from the bowels of the earth, people reached out with prayers and physical help.
Local agencies and organizations were put to the task and all responded immediately. As always, the churches played a large role in consoling survivors. Everyone wanted to help. The crew of the Daily American worked around the clock to keep the people informed. They summarily withdrew all Christmas advertising, without consulting the merchants, because they deemed the happy ad images were inappropriate. Profit motive took a back seat to human dignity. Editor W. Henson Purcell spent 48 hours straight on the police radio handling calls internationally. Travel wasn't as easy then and the radio stations carried constantly updated reports to a wide area.
Other than the loving memories that pour out on this date, there were more practical results stemming from the tragedy which constitutes the legacy of the lost miners. Labor leaders poured into town and in the name of these, and miners everywhere, new safety rules and regulations were formulated. Their sacrifice helped future brothers.
Appropriately, Christmas became better during the last 60 years. But every year on this date a host of local people bow their heads in respectful loving memory for those who were lost in such a tragic manner And as long as that happens, their loss will not have been in vain.
Saturday 22 December 2012
http://www.dailyamericannews.com/article/20121221/NEWS/121229821/1001/NEWS#art-tit
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