Received from Darrell H Jackson

Letter One
"My maternal Great Grandfather was involved in the "Battle of Evarts" His name was William Hightower and was imprisoned for conspiracy to murder but was pardoned after three years.  His grand daughter, my mother who is still alive at 82 years old remembers this incident.  She was about 13 years old at the time and remembers the sound of gun fire, the "men" hiding their guns in the wall boards of the houses, and the fact that her grandfather was jailed.

 My paternal grandfather, Isaac Herman Jackson mined there in 1925.  He was probably there before and after that.  The 1925 is based on his 1925 KY state driver's license that has survived him.  His address on the driver's license was Loyall, Harlan Co, KY.

 My dad worked coal mines in Arkansas and Tennessee.  I was born in Coalfield, Morgan Co, Tennessee in 1940.  It was basically "company town" at the time.  But for World War Two, I would have grown up to be a miner.  My dad got enticed to come up here and work in the ship yards, building ships for the war effort, in Tacoma, Washington.  And, as they say, the rest is history.

 My family, paternal and maternal seemed to follow the mines through the tri-state area of KY, WV and TN at least from the early 1900s, with a side trip into Arkansas once. Prior to that my Jackson were in the Iron Forge business for 3 generations.

 I don't think that there is any of this that will help your new web site but I want to encourage you to keep it going.  Harlan County has figured into my family history and with coal mine connections I hope to be able to tie up some loose ends."

I responded to this letter in hopes that he may have more he would like to see on the site and that his stories were the kind we wanted to share with others and this is the second letter from Darrell H Jackson

Letter two
How powerful are labor unions in America today? Notice I said labor unions, not the screen actors guild or government employees or a few unions that represent employees at large corporations (with their permission?). I mean Labor as in dirty hands, broke backs and stubborn pride out their ears.  How many workers today would do what our ancestors did in the coal mines?  Establish a picket line?  Not cross a picket line?  Risk yours and your families well being?  My grandfather did.  He was born in 1886 and worked the coal mines till World War Two.  Even after that he worked till he died in his 70s and was a proud union member to the end.  My dad was born into the union.  The first half of his life he was as a coal miner then as an iron worker.  Always as a proud union member.  I saw him strike and know what it cost him but also how it profited him and his family.  Me, I was born in a company owned coal mine town but  was out of there before I was out of diapers.  Did I have a better life?

The one story that stays in my mind is when, my dad and grandfather, (father and son teams were common in the mines) were working together when there was a gas explosion.  I think they called it "the damp".Their gas alarm (a bird in a cage?), if they had one must not have worked because their "carbide lamps" set off an explosion.  These gas explosions could result in total disaster, a whole mine wiped out, dozens, even hundreds of miners killed, or, as happened in this case.

They said that it was like a flash bulb going off  but hotter. It caused their exposed hair to be singed off and skin blistered like a badsun burn.  They lost a couple layers of skin but no scarring.  The worstthing that resulted from the explosion was a "slate fall".  I guess what is left over head in a mine shaft after the coal is dug out is slate rock.  Slate breaks apart in thin sheets.  It was a minor fall and my grandfather was almost quick enough to get out of the way before he was injured.  As it was, besides minor cuts and bruises, his nose was nearly cut off.  Dad said that his dad's nose was just hanging by the little bit of tissue between the nostrils.  When the dust cleared they were able to walk out of the mine, my grandfather holding his nose in place. His nose grew back, thanks to the camp doctor and his little black bag. Knowing his wife, my grandmother she probably gave credit to her "buttermilk poultices."  They would cure everything from cancer to a hangnail.  My grandfather died when I was about 18 years old. I'll always remember his nose.  A very noble nose thanks to our little bit ofindian blood.  The scar did not disfigure him but added to his good looks.  I guess it was like the dueling scar on the cheeks of 19th century noblemen, a mark of pride.

At the old age of sixty years I have reached this conclusion:  My
granddaddy's generation fought for the union.  I mean bloody knuckles, lean times but victory in the end.  My dad's generation got the benefits of the union.  Good wages, medical, retirement and other benefits.  My generation, we lost the union.  Whatever power is left in the union is not stopping labor jobs from being exported.

My grandfather for sure, maybe my dad would have a fit if they knew that you had to get a High School diploma in order to get a job.  I can just hear my grandfather say "you don't need no education to dig coal".

I guess we are where the cowboys were 120 years ago when barbed wire fencing was invented.  Ranchers no longer need "mobile fences" which is what cowboys were.  So, the cowboys had to get down off their horses a learn new professions.

I know that I am being simplistic or is it idealistic? My generation got fat and happy as a result of our ancestors work.  Part of their work was inventing coal digging machines, etc that in time, put 8 out of 10 miners out of work.  I grew up in a company owned timber camp in Washington State.  I had callouses on my hands before I was out of Junior High School.  Like my dad said, the only difference between a logger and miner is that a logger don't work in the dark. By the time I was 20 years old I knew that I had other options besides labor.  I came out of a sixty student, four year high school and the word college seldom heard.  After working 3 years for the State Forestry as the Number One Ax Man and led a 20 man forest fire fighting crew I joined the Army and retired after 23 years.

I'm past the age of being tough.  Could our sons do what we did?  I doubt it.  Labor, broke back, under paid.  It just doesn't compute for  them.  Thanks to our hard work.  I won't even mention our daughters.

I've been talking about my Dad and paternal grandfather.  On my maternal side I've been looking for my grandfather Frank Rodgers.  (According to his daughter, my mother, the one that lived through the Battle  of Evarts in Harlan Co, KY and saw her grandfather go to prison for his part in it), he died in a mine accident in about 1926.  They were living in West Virginia at the time.  In the 1920 census, they were living in Earling, Logan Co, WV.  Frank Rodgers was the head of household with his wife and five children.  His occupation was listed as "electrician in the mines".  My mother remembers that he died and was buried in Salt Rock, Cabell Co, WV.  I haven't been able to find documentation about his death, etc but I'm still looking. 
 I am sure that he, if not there, participated in like activities for whatever mine he was working at.

Talking about "carbide lamps" makes me sad that I didn't save my dads. A picture of one and maybe of a  "bird cage gas alarm" would look good on a Coal Mine web site.

DARRELL H. JACKSON
Lakewood, Washington
 

Received from Candi Howard

Letter one
My name is Candi Howard as I was searching for clues to my family roots I ran over your message and thought I would write you.   My papaw and mamaw where there (Harlan Co Brookside Coal Co). so was my mother and father. In fact they met on the pickett line.  My grandparents names are Sudie and Ed Crusenberry. My grandma was the president of the womans part of the Union because the law said that only 1 man was allowed on the pickett line at a time.  The Lawerance Jones that was shot and killed during that strike was my cousin.  I've heard about coal mining all my life. It runs in the family on both sides. My great grandfather started working in the mines when he was 12. I'm not sure but, I belive my grandfather did too. It's been a way of life. In fact my father is still a coalminer.  I don't know if this is what your looking for, if it is I can find out more. Many of the things we(the grandchildren) have been told since we were very small.  Perhapes I canhelp.  Thanks for helping to do this, coal miners needto be appreciated for the sacrifices they made.

Candi Howard 
 

Letter two
This is referring to a strike at the Brookside Coal Co
My mother was about 18 at the time. She had hid behind a car excaping the machinegun fire. That black pickett came running behind the car with that man after him. Later my mother was told that the only reason Berch didn't kill the man was because she was there behind the car.
My grandmother has a scrap book of the strike and articles and interviews that the newspaper people did. 

Candi Howard
 
 

Received from Karren Grace Katz

MY NAME IS KARREN GRACE KATZ AND I AM DOING RESEARCH ON MY GRANDFATHER, JAMES M. GRACE....APPARENTLY HE WAS VERY ACTIVE IN THE FORMING OF UMW...ENCLOSED IS A STATEMENT THAT HE MADE IN 1931..HOPE YOU WILL POST THIS

STATE OF NEW YORK
COUNTY OF NEW YORK 
CITY OF NEW YORK
JIM GRACE, being duly sworn, says:

I was born in Virginia, where I remained until 1904.  I came to West Virginia in 1904, where I became a miner, and worked in the mines until 1924.  I left West Virginia and came to Kentucky, Harlan County, and secured employment with the Creech Coal Company as trackman in the coalmines.  I worked for this company until 1927.  Since then, I have not been working in the mines, although a member of the United Mine Workers of America and active for that organization until July, 1931, after this strike had been in progress since April.  I then joined the National Miners Union and became active in that organization.
I was chosen as a delegate to the Pittsburgh Convention of the National Miners Union in July of this year, along with twenty-six other delegates from Kentucky, and made the report of the Kentucky situation.  I returned to Kentucky and was still active in the National Miners Union as a member of the General Committee.

On account of my activities in this union, my house was raided on July 27th by twelve deputies armed with machine guns.  I happened to see them before they reached the house and escaped through the back way.  I heard them inquire for me.  They rifled the house looking for radical literature, as they said.  I made my escape to the house of a sympathizer and remained in the County for a few days under cover.

After a few days I went to Caryville, Tennessee, and remained there fortwo weeks, then returned to Bell County, Kentucky.  I stayed at the home of a friend for some ten days or two weeks.  From there I went, in company with Tom Myerscough, to Neon, Letcher County, Kentucky.  As I was coming out of a boarding house in Neon, I was accosted by four or five men, some wearing uniforms.  They said I was under arrest.  In their conversation, one of them was referred to as Sheriff.

I was hustled into a car, and one of the men in the car said to the man in the Uniform, “I thank you, Sheriff, for helping me make this arrest.”  This was on September 25th at about 8 p.m. I was taken to Jenkins, Kentucky, a distance of five or six miles, where there are coal operations belonging to the Consolidated Coal Company.  There I was placed in the company jail, and on entering the cell I found Tom Myerscough was already in the cell.  The man who had the key said “Hello Tom here’s Jim.”  We did not know him but he knew us.  Tom and I remained in jail that night until about midnight. We were asleep, when I heard the jail door open.  The same man that placed us in jail called us to get up and dress.  We dressed and an officer who seemed to be an officer of the Jenkins Opera-tions, escorted us out of the jail.  We were ushered into a car occupied by three armed men-large men, who were well armed.  They had Tom’s and my suitcases and brief-cases in the car.  After we were placed in the car, the driver and some uniformed officer held a short consultation.  Tom and I were both placed in the back seat, by the side of an armed deputy, with to deputies in the front seat (one the driver), well armed, all husky.  On the way from the jail, I asked the man in the back seat if he was from Harlen.  He said no. One of the deputies ask us if we were I. W. W.’s.  We said no, we had no connection with that organization.  He said, “What are you then, Rednecks?”  We said no, we were organizers for the National Miners Union. “are you having much success?” they said.  We said we hadn’t been there long enough to find out.  They said, “Don’t you fellows know you are ruining the country, causing men to desert their families and causing trou-ble in Harlan County?”  We said no.  There was no further conversation.

In the meantime, I thought they were taking us to the Harlan jailbecause I had understood I had been previously indicted in Harlan Circuit Court for Criminal Syndicalism and perhaps other charges.  We went on until we came to Cumberland.  I was well acquainted with the territory, but Tom was not.  Instead of taking us toward Harlan, they turned to the and went to Lynch.  I said to Tom in an undertone, “They’re not taking us to Harlan, but to the Big Black Mountain. They’re taking us up there to kill us.”  Tom answered “If they are, its all up with us.” They stopped in Lynch in front of the Police Station and the driver went into the Police Station.  He returned in about fifteen minutes and took his place in the car.  Then, instead of going to Harlan, they proceeded in the opposite direction, towards Virginia, until they reached the top of Big Black Mountain, at the Virginia line, on the Virginia side. There they stopped the car suddenly.  It was about 2 o’clock in the morning.  They all three got out and held a conversation in low tones for about a minute.  Then told us to get out.  I heard one say, “That old big one should come first.” (Meaning Tom.)  They came back to us and said, “What have you in your hand-bags?”  Tom said, “Some Papers relative to the union.”  They said, “What’s in the big suitcase?”  I said, “My clothes.”  That was the last we ever saw of our belongings. They robbed us of them, and had searched our pockets several times during the evening.
Then two of them stood guard, while the largest one, weighing more than 200 pounds, came around to us and said, “Do you fellows ever fight any?”  We said, “We haven’t practiced that very much.”  He said, “How would you like to take me on for a few rounds?”  Tom said, “We don’t care to not under the circumstances.  We are unarmed.  Those men are well armed.”  At that moment the large man struck Tom and glanced him on the jaw.  Tom acted as though he had been skilled in maneuvering and kept out of his way until he backed close to the precipice on the right of the road looking towards Virginia.  He attempted to turn around and jump over. The big man said, ”Don’t you run, I’ll kill you.”  He reach down and picked up a rock weighing about two pounds and threw it at Tom as he turned to go over the embankment, and hit him on the shoulder but did not knock him out.  Tom went over the hill anyway, through rocks, briars, grape-vines, and other entanglements, and disappeared in the darkness.  Meantime the thug fired at least twenty shots at Tom and cursed him but got no response.  The kept shooting in his direction. When they got no response, they turned on me.  He struck me on the back of the head with something and knocked me to the ground and kicked me on the other side.  When I tried to rise they struck me with something else and broke my right cheek-bone.  With difficulty I rose again-but that time I was close to the edge of the darkness where the light from the light from the car did not shine.  I made an escape into the darkness amid a hail of stones and bullets.  I went down the road a few jumps, then over the embankment into the wilderness.  After that, I heard perhaps twelve shots more, by them, I was bleeding so at the nose and my eyes were so bruised I could hardly see.  In fact I was only simi-concious.  I lay there about an hour before I was able to stand up I was uneasy about Tom.  I felt sure they had killed him.  They seemed to shoot so straight in his direction. After the car disappeared, I crawled up the bank and went to look for Tom.  I could see were he had gone over the bank, I called him several times but got no response.  I sterted to go down to look for him but it was so dark and the place was so rough I was afraid I could not return to the road on account of being so weak.  So I started to walk to Appalachia, Virginia.  (Words are missing  possibly The rain)… poured down.  I reached Appalachia (about six or seven miles), and there I hoped to get some trace of Tom.  I thought perhaps he had stoped at the Western Union to re-port by wire.  But when I reached Appalachia Hotel, a hangout for the Operators Association.  I felt it would be unsafe to enter, and decided to walk to Big Stone Gap (about five miles).  I found I had $2 in the watch pocket of my pants, barely enough to buy a ticket to Middlesboro.  I reached the house of a sympathizer I was so weak, and my face so swollen, they did not recognize me and did not even invite me into the house because they didn’t know who I was. Even after I told him, they doubted it.  Then they looked at my hat and knew it, and so recognized me.  Of course I was taken care of, bathed my wound and washed of the blood in a bath prepared with water and salt. (or salts, it’s unreadable)
In the meantime, my wife had heard of the kidnaping and was on the hunt for some one to report to, and unexpectedly came into the house where I was.  She said to the lady of the house, “They caught Jim and Tom in Neon and I suppose have them in Jail somewhere but we can’t find out where.”  The lady said, “No, they haven’t got Jim he’s here.” We hadn’t heard yet from Tom, and I knew nothing of his whereabouts until a day or two latter, when his whereabouts were reported by Bruce Crawford in Norton, Virginia.  I remained at this house for perhaps ten
days then was sent to N. Y. Since then I have been on relief work in NewYork City and New York State.

(signed)  JIM GRACE.
Sworn to before me this fourth day
Of November, 1931
(signed)    HERMAN CERBERT.
 
 

Received from Sandi Mann

My Great Grandfather, James Albert "Bert" Sigsbee, as well as his two sons, Charles Heber Sigsbee (my grandfather) and Arbon Earl Sigsbee were all coal miners in the Earlington, KY, and IL areas for years.  James, or "Bert" as he went by, was a driver in the mines.  I have been trying to find any and all information I can on them but, to date, have been unsuccessful.  I do know that My Great Grandfather was injured several times in mine explosions,
but I don't know the name of the mine, perhaps it was #11.  The last mining injury he received (James Albert "Bert" Sigsbee) was on October 4, 1904, and he subsequently died October 11, 1904, but not from those injuries. Instead, his death was caused by Spinal Meningitis and Typhoid Fever.

I remember stories my mother (Margaret (Sigsbee) Breeden) used to tell us about the life she lead as a child of a coal miner (Charles Heber Sigsbee),living in the "row houses" and making due with what they had.  She would tell of how she would hand her father his lunch bucket each and every morning as he was leaving for work, and how she'd pray all day long for his safe return.  She mentioned several mining accidents but, unfortunately, as a child hearing these stories, I never wrote it down.  Now that I'm doing my family genealogy, I truly wish I had have had the forethought to keep records.

My Gr. Uncle, Arbon Earl Sigsbee, also worked in the coal mines in the Earlington, KY and IL areas.  I have a photo of him along with 6 other fellow miners that was taken in the mine (don't know the name though) in 1925.

Being descended from a family of coal miners, I give my praise not only tomy family, but all of those wonderful hard working men, some of whom gave their lives, so that their families and their descendants could live a better life.  My hats off to ALL of them.

Sincerely,
Sandy Mann
 
 

Received from Bill Gabbard

I've not alot to offer but my grandpa Dewey Gabbard owned some mines in north eastern Laurel County back in the 40s.  The mines were under a bluff overlooking the Rockcastle River.  There was a cable that stretched across river into Rockcastle County on a road (now Ky. 89) where buckets of coal were dumped in trucks for hauling to the nearest tipple in East Bernstadt.

 My father William Henry Gabbard and his 6 brothers worked the mines and never finished school.  His sisters (10 children in family) helped my grandma prepare daily meals for the sons.  My mother's parents owned the farm land above the bluff and she met my dad because he always rode a short-legged mule out from mines up a trail to road that rain by my mother's parents house.  So this is how they met and married.  I remember as a child of 10 or so years old, walking down to the abandoned mines that were on a terrace cut into the bluff.  The shafts were still open but were finally closed by another owner of land in the mid 60s for safety reasons.

 I know this isn't much, but coal mining played a big role in my father's family and I don't think it's ever been recognized.  Unfortunately there are no family members alive that I can glean more info from.  I know the terrace is still there now and remnants of cable that used to cross river.

 Thanks for this Web Site,
 Bill Gabbard 
 
 

received from Betty Music Daniel

My dad, James Music was a coal miner.
 As a young father with a new baby, he and my mother headed for the West Virginia Coal mines.  He worked in and around the Red Jacket and Matwan area. I was about three when he brought his family back to Wiley Branch, Johnson County, KY.  He worked in different mines at the time.  He worked for Southeast Coal Company on Muddy Branch in Johnson County.  He worked for the Vanhoose Coal Company.  I can remember his coming by the Nancy Castle School.  He would wait for me to get out of school and later when I was in high school at Oil Springs, he would wait for the bus to arrive at Nancy Castle.  I was always happy to see that little red truck waiting.  I would not have to walk from the main road which was 23 (miles) up the hollow where we lived. 
 My father lived with me at the time of his death.  He died from Black Lung in Dec. 1992.  He is buried here in Columlbus, OH.  We miss him very much.  I still see him in my home.  I guess I will always remember the wonderful father I had.