Monongah

Aaron looks at the bell donated by citizens of a small town in Italy, where many of the dead miners were from.

I've mentioned Monongah several times on this blog. This small town is located in Marion County, West Virginia, and in 1907 it suffered the

worst mine explosion in West Virginia's history--probably the worst in US history.

372 were confirmed dead (the sign says 361, so take your pick),

although most historians agree that the total was actually more like 500 because many young children worked in the mine and they weren't listed as employees. There were very likely other undocumented workers as well because the mines were worked by a large immigrant population, and some may not have actually been listed on the payroll.

To visit Monongah today, you would see little sign of the disaster. The community is making a comeback from the days when mining was in a slump. But if you go off the main street, and down to the place where this statue is,

The Monongah Heroine, dedicated to the wives and mothers of the lost miners.

you get a glimpse of what Monongah may have looked like in 1907.

Good Reading

In these busy days, it's good to stop and minute and read something worthwhile. Here are a few places I stopped online recently to read some good stories:

Brighid's Place posted the story of Carrie's Tree, a randomly decorated tree in Northern California with a loving story behind it. Brig and I are long-time blog friends, and she shares some great tales of life in the Northwest.

An older story, from 2015, on Crackerjack blog, telling the story of the beloved Shiny Brite Christmas ornaments. I have quite a few on my tree, along with some German-made glass ornaments. Each year I add new vintage ornaments to the few that came from my parents' huge collection. These older ornaments bring back such good memories of childhood.

On a different note:

The sad anniversary of one of West Virginia's worst disasters. Perhaps our worst disaster. The Monongah Heroine in the small town of Monongah is a tribute to the women left behind.

The strange story of Cincinnati's 100 year old subway that was never used, from Atlas Obscura.

A story to remind us that sometimes wishes do come true, or perhaps tha good work sometimes gets rewarded, from Appalachian Magazine.

Happy reading!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Worthington

Once it was a proud and bustling place. Now there's little left of its coal-boom days. That was before the Farmington disaster, before the Monongah disaster, before coal lost its place of glory in the energy world, before people got smart and formed unions to protect themselves.

In those days the streets were full of people. Saturdays were busy days as the miners and their wives came to town to spend their money.

We pass through this little town every time we visit our son Aaron and his family in Marion County, West Virginia.

There are still a few signs of the town's past: an aging building with an unusual door and curving brick was probably once a bank. Some houses still standing have the bravado of an old lady who once knew what it was to wear silk and now wears her faded cotton dress with her head held high.

Something about old coal towns speaks to me. A dark voice, virile and raucous, full of the tales of what once was, of the men and the women who made the place and fought for it and died too. The houses huddled close together as if seeking comfort from danger and cold, the boarded up stores that surely once were filled with goods and customers. These towns are like closed, worn diaries.

Find the secret lock and open it, and the stories of the people will spill into the light. Some of them too terrible, perhaps, to be viewed in full sunlight in all their gory truth; others sparkling with a beauty that blinds.

Davit McAteer told the story of Monongah in his recent book, and the 100th anniversary of the terrible mine explosions was observed on December 7, 2007. Worthington, just a few miles down the road, still holds its stories for the person who finds the key.

Father's Day

This has been our year to give celebratory days a miss--so far, we missed Mother's Day, Larry's birthday, our anniversary, and now Father's day. My birthday is this week and I'm pretty sure it'll be a miss too. With Larry's knee replacement and all the catch-up work after that, and then storytelling and gardening coming on, we haven't slowed down enough to give more than a nod to these special days. I did have a small cake and ice cream for Larry on his birthday, and a card, so it wasn't a total bust. But we both totally forgot our anniversary until a day or two later.

Which is fine. We're happy and well and celebrate pretty much every day with quiet time on the porch, a glass of wine by the firepit, a special breakfast or homemade cookies. All gifts in their own right.

I knew that this day, Father's Day, may have had its origin in West Virginia, as did Mother's Day. But while I knew the story of Mother's Day and Anna Jarvis pretty well, I never paid attention to the establishment of Father's Day until recently. A friend's comment on Facebook this morning spurred me to write my post today about this holiday.

There are several stories about the first recognition of a day to honor fathers. One story is that a lady in Washington state wanted a day to honor fathers like Mother's Day honored mothers, and a service was held in her church for that purpose in 1909.

The West Virginia story has its roots in tragedy. You might have heard of the terrible Monongah mining disaster that happened in this state in 1907. At least 362 men died in that explosion, and there were probably many more as there were young boys and other workers in the mines not accounted for in the official statistics. Can you imagine a small community losing so many people in one day, almost the entire male population?

According to the West Virginia Department of Culture and History, this is the story of the first observance of Father's Day:

"Fairmont - The congregation of Central United Methodist Church once again will observe Father's Day at the home of the holiday's heritage.

The Fairmont church lays claim to the first Father's Day service in the nation. The observance is special this year because the holiday coincides with homecoming.

Steve Sirk, of the church Father's Day committee, said that the origin of the holiday is often traced to Spokane, Wash. The confusion is understandable.

Mrs. Sonorah Louise Smart Dodd is largely responsible for establishing the day as a national holiday in 1982.

The Fairmont church, however, has the satisfaction of knowing that on July 5, 1908, a worship service was the first true observance. Sheaves of ripened wheat adorned the altar of what was then called the Williams Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church South. The church at that time was located on the corner of Second Street and Fairmont Avenue.

Grace Golden Clayton, photo from WVNews

The year before, in 1907, Monongah had been devastated by the loss of 361 men, most of them fathers, when two mines exploded. Mrs. Grace Golden Clayton, who is believed to have suggested the service to the pastor, may have been motivated by the great loss, Sirk said.

The idea to pay tribute to fathers may also have been triggered by what had taken place in Grafton two months earlier, on May 10, 1908. Mother's Day had been observed for the first time."
(First Father's Day Service, from the Morgantown Dominion Post, June 21, 1987.   http://www.wvculture.org/history/miscellaneous/fathersday01.html )

Some online articles wrongly suggest that Grace Claytons father, a minister, died in the mine explosion but that is incorrect, as her father actually died in 1896.

The Washington state claim to the holiday may be right too, since apparently services were held in both West Virginia and Washington in 1908--two women, a country apart, motivated by the same idea.

So to all the fathers out there, wishing you the very best on this day, wherever it was started. It's still a nice and loving way to say to our men that you are appreciated!


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Things Upcoming

It's coming into a whirlwind of busyness (and business) for me.

First up: the Storytelling Guild will get together tonight to set up our booth at the West Virginia Book Festival. Friends, if you've never been to the Festival you're missing out on a fun, free good time. Lots of authors (featured this year is Richard Paul Evans, and Davit McAteer who wrote the book about Monongah), along with many, many others, and workshops, performances, etc.

Tomorrow morning I'll be at the Festival bright and early to help with the annual library book sale. It's huge this year; over twice as many books as last year, and tons more in the Collector's corner (my favorite part of the sale). Since I helped set up today, I got 5 books for free, and could buy the others that I wanted. So I have a box full of books in my car and will have to figure out what has to go when I get home because I tend to get over-run by books.

Then the Storytelling Guild will have its Children's Storytelling Concert at noon, followed by a performance by our featured teller, Donna Washington of North Carolina. After that, we'll have a panel discussion on telling stories to children. Bob Webb will be recording the concert for us, and we hope it will be worth making into a CD. Keep your fingers crossed for us! And come to listen if you can--it's free :-)

THEN we go to dinner, and hightail it to Ripley to put on a Ghost Stories and Music Concert at the Alpine Theatre. Tickets are $10 for adults and $5 for kids; come in costume and get a treat! We'll have refreshments too, so it should be a great time for everyone.

Next week I have storytelling events on Monday evening, all day Thursday and all day Friday, and Saturday morning. Thank goodness I have the week off from work! Three schools, a library and an Elderhostel are the venues for the week's storytelling.

Next week is quiet, except for my granddaughter's wedding on Saturday; then the following week storytelling picks up again with another Elderhostel performance, an all-day event on Oct 30, evening event that same day (more about that in another post), and an afternoon event on the 31st.

Somewhere in there I need to find time to make apple butter and get arthroscopic surgery on my #@&*! right knee. That should be an interesting feat. Oh, and go to work every now and then too!

Impromptu Storytelling

Today I spent some time with Aaron (son #4, who often adds comments on my blog). After taking care of some business, we moseyed around the countryside of Marion County, where he lives. I will post photos of Monongah, the power plant where Aaron works and other sights we saw in later posts.



One of the coolest things that happened was that we visited the small town of Fairview. I'd been there to tell stories about 6 years ago, and loved the library that was housed in a storefront. The staff were such positive, happy people, and they even had a library cat. So today I thought we'd stop in for a minute to visit--but when I looked for the library, it was gone! As we drove further into town I saw a new brick building, and we could see rows of books inside. A new library? I had to check it out.





Indeed, Fairview has a new library. When we went inside, I saw my old friends there, and they told me the library had been damaged by a fire in 2003, and that for 4 years they operated out of the town hall.

Local fundraising raised enough money to build a brand new building, and it's lovely (this photo is from the library's website.)










As it happened, we arrived about 15 minutes before preschool storytime, and the staff asked me if I'd like to tell a story to the children. Of course I would!









We shared the fun and participation of the story about the Giant Turnip, a good story for this time of year.

What a fun time! It was great to be telling stories to little ones again, and a true pleasure to see how success can come from tragedy.

As for the library cat? She relocated to a nearby store for a while, and then disappeared. The librarians are sure she's found a good home with a local family, and I believe they are right, because the cat was well-loved and care for by store patrons and townspeople. Someone probably fell in love with her and took her home.

Coal: A Poetry Anthology

"When you say the word coal, you do not think of poetry." These are the first words in Denise Giardina's preface to Coal: A Poetry Anthology. She's right. The word conjures up instead dark holes, white eyes shining out of blackened faces, strikes, hardship, and big corporate interests. At least, those are the things that come to my mind.

But here the coal sings in words that define a place, a culture, a people, and an industry that is both loved and hated. Listen to the last verse of Kentucky poet James Still's poem, "Earth-Bread":

This is the eight-hour death, the daily burial

In a dark harvest lost as any dead.

He describes in few words the lifetimes of the many men who went into the mines, and the dark fear that hung over them.

Many of the poems are memorials to men lost in the mines; others celebrate them as a group not unlike warriors, who each day enter into battle under the mountains. Others tell the terrbile tales of disasters, like Monongah, WV, the terrible explosion that took over 360 lives on December 6, 1907. This excerpt is from the poem "Monogah" by David Salner:

There's a meadow, filled with threadbare gray

of five hundred women in the snow. They sob

to the heavens, as gaunt as the heavens are

in West Virginia. I ask them to leave,

for we're in danger from another explosion,

but the women won't go.

There's Farmington No. 9, by Lloyd Davis, the terrible disaster that left 19 men entombed beneath the ground. I visited this site a few years ago and will not forget the eerie feeling of realizing we were standing right above their burial place.

The most recent mining disaster in West Virginia, Sago, is also memorialized in the book with a poem by Beth Wellington, told in the words of one of the miner's wives.

I was especially pleased to find a poem by Max Price, a member of our local writing group, included: His "Mountain Travesty" decries the practice of mountaintop removal. Many of the poets are names that students of Appalachian literature will recognize; others may be unfamiliar, but their words ring strong and true.

With chapters titled Miners and Work, Disasters and Mining, Families and Community, Life After the Mines, Environmental Degradation, and Resistance, the book covers many aspects of life in the coalfields. A bibliography and author notes are included for those who want to read more.

Coal: A Poetry Anthology is a compelling, moving collection, one that should be on the shelves of every Appalachian library or home.

Editor: Chris Green

Publisher: Blair Mountain Press, 2027 Oakview Rd, Ashland, KY 41101

telephone 606-324-2266 or email the Press at bettyhuff@alltel.net

website: http://www.blairmtp.com/

Grant Town and Ida May

This is just one of the many pretty roads Aaron and I traveled on Wednesday in northern Marion County. You would not guess to look at this land that there are many deep mines under the surface--some active, some long since idle, and a couple with deadly histories.



One of the things I find fascinating about this area is the Italian heritage. Many families are descended from Italian immigrants who came to work in the mines, and the bakeries and restaurants attest to this background. Pepperoni rolls were actually invented in this part of West Virginia, although there still seems to be a little disagreement about exactly who made them first.

We passed this place on the way to Grant Town. I won't say what Aaron called it, but I liked the way it sat at the edge of the road on the little rise. I wonder if it had been a boarding house, a store, a hotel? Hard to say. It may have just been always a residence.

Coal still drives a large part of the economy in this part of West Virginia, although nothing like its heyday. The roads are narrow and twisting, and as you can see in this photo there's no extra room for the big coal trucks to maneuver.



Aaron said that truckers will call ahead in certain areas because tow of them cannot pass each other in those places--like one he called "the dip and squeeze." If you saw the narrow little bridge and sharp curve with no space for shoulders, you'd understand the name. Trucks approaching on either side will call ahead to warn any truck coming in the other direction to wait. Of course, if you're traveling without a radio, you're on your own.

This is the Grant Town power plant where Aaron works. As I understand it, this plant is a recycling plant--they use coal waste from other power plants to generate more energy.

And this is a former strip mine site. Would that all strip mines were reclaimed as well as this one.

On another part of the reclaimed mine, a small forested knoll rose above the landscape. The reason it wasn't tampered with? There is an old graveyard hidden beneath the trees. We didn't investigate as we weren't dressed for hiking, but one day I'd like to go back there.

The post office at Ida May (pronounced, I'm sure, Idy May) is located beside what used to be the mining company's company store. Ida May once was a thriving mine community. It is the tunnels from the old mine that run under the ridge where Aaron's house is located.

There is so much to see in Marion County--the abandoned railroad trestles, the rail trail, The Farmington monument and Monongah. Not all of its history is pretty, but it is filled with stories of people making a living in a dangerous industry, of immigrants making a home in a new place, of ghost stories and small towns and small farms. Sometimes getting off the beaten track, away from the usual tourist destinations, brings the biggest rewards and understanding of people and their place.

The Mountain State Storytelling Institute

Two days of storytelling and storytelling friends. What a great recipe for a good time. Here are a few photos to share the Institute with you.

Keynote speaker Connie Regan-Blake inspired us with stories about Appalachian storyteller Ray Hicks, whose legacy lives on through those who knew him well. Connie had us laughing and crying as she talked about visiting the Hicks' remote m0untain home, about Ray's "all-day talker" personality and the easy flow of stories into his conversations, his healing abilities, and the impact this man had on her storytelling career.

Connie began telling stories for a living in 1971, when she and her first cousin Barbara Freeman took off on a yellow pickup truck with a camper to be storytellers. They didn't know where they were going or where they would find work, but their adventure lasted for years, and today Connie Regan-Blake is one of our most respected storytellers, and has traveled to many places in this world--although nowadays she flies!


Storytellers Jason Burns and Karen Vuranch get a hug in during the activities. Karen came with Colleen Anderson of MotherWit Design and Julie Adams, a fine singer and member of West Virginia Public Radio's Mountain Stage band to perform their storytelling and music show called Potluck. It was a fine performance by all three with music both comic and nostalgic and storytelling by Karen Vuranch that ranks as one of the best performances I have seen from any storyteller anywhere. It was taste treat for the senses.

Jo Ann Dadisman has a friend looking over her shoulder. The friend is the Braxton County Monster, one of West Virginia's most unusual legends or occurrences, depending on how you view the incident.

Folklorist Noel Tenney talks with Michael Kline, a noted oral historian and musician whose work has won many awards. I attended sessions by both Tenney and Kline and his wife Carrie Nobel Kline. Collecting family and community stories was the focus of both presentations, and the work of these people has saved much local legend and history from being lost as older generations pass on.

Besides her wide array of storytelling productions, Connie Regan-Blake sells beads for Bead for Life, which you can see in the photo above. Of course I bought a string of beautiful turquoise beads--both because they were beautiful and because this good cause provides medical and other assistance for the Ugandan women who make the jewelry from recycled paper. If you click in the link above, you will see a necklace like the one I bought in the front center of the website's photo.

I presented a new workshop on blogging Saturday afternoon. It was a small but dedicated group that attended. I had CD's of a powerpoint presentation for each attendee along with a handout of the slides because I never trust computers at conferences to really work. We managed to get enough functioning so that each person had a laptop to use.

It seemed a bit of an oxymoron to have someone called granny presenting on blogging! But at the end of the two-hour session, those who attended either had already started a blog and were posting, or knew all about the main blog sites and were ready to get started when they went home. Jason attended although he already has an excellent blog and his insights were an excellent addition to the discussion. I covered topics like deciding what your blog is to, who you want to target, what to do and not do on your blog, blog etiquette, set-up options and more. I think it was a useful session, and I would like to do it again sometime. I am certainly not a techie, but perhaps the viewpoint of someone like me is valuable to those who feel intimidated by writing online.

At the end of the Friday night concert, the other tellers and I were onstage for a final song and bow. Tellers were Rich Knoblich, me, Kevin Cordi, Ilene Evans and Connie Regan-Blake. What did I tell? Well, I started out by linking my presentation to Connie Regan-Blake's story about her mother going to pick out a coffin (true story!). Her story was one that made you laugh and cry at the same time. It reminded me of the time I was at the auction and they had a purple coffin as one of the lots for sale. (You can read about that on my blog by clicking here). Which has forever stayed in my mind--I mean, was it a used coffin? or a scratch-and-dent model (it did have a dent).

Anyway--so I told about that coffin, then segued to talking a little about the area where the Institute was being held, only a few miles from some of our states worst mine disasters at Mannington and Monongah. That led to the ballad by Jean Ritchie called West Virginia Mine Disaster. From there I talked a little about my husband's family and their connection to coal, and from there to my story called Idy Mae's Full Moon. An outhouse story, actually, and pretty funny.

The mine disaster song is not a happy one, as you can imagine, so it was important to me to bring the audience back to a happy place at the end of my set. By combining the song with family history and a funny family story, I was able to provide a range of emotional experiences and a brief multi-faceted perspective of the life in coal-mining communities. Not all good, not all bad, but full of the complexities of life for all of us.

The event ended with a presentation by the student storytelling troupe at Fairmont called The Appalachian Raconteurs. I am so glad to know this group was formed because we need more young people in storytelling. Knowing that the torch will be passed to capable hands makes me very happy and secure in knowing that Appalachian storytelling will continue to be part of our heritage for at least a few more generations.

I am looking forward to next year's Institute. The professional workshops, rich storytelling, the opportunity to interact with college students who are interested in storytelling, networking with friends and being at beautiful Fairmont State University makes a perfect recipe for learning and growing.