Elizabeth's Coal Camp Stories

By Carrie D. Franklin Heck

It takes on a setting of a coal camp; somewhere in West Virginia during the great depression days. Some of the book is fictitious. Most of the characters were names I had remembered as a child; whether they be real in character or of a fictitious nature, I used them out of due love for the families of yesteryears.

Judge Henry S. Cato is a real character in this novel. I had cared for him as his private duty nurse for a period of five years. I feel like I got to know him as a nurse and as a special person. His life touched mine in a many ways, as well as the lives of others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477108390

Carrie D. Franklin Heck

About the Author Carrie Dean Franklin Heck was born in a coal camp in Mingo County, West Virginia. She now lives in Ohio with her present husband, Homer Heck. Her loving late husband, Rev. Forrest Franklin, went home to be with the Lord God in December 2007. She has two children, Mary Faye and Michael Paul. The Rock of Ages Baptist Church in Huntington, West Virginia is where she worships God Almighty.

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Elizabeth’s Coal Camp Stories

Carrie D. Franklin Heck

Copyright © 2012 by Carrie D. Franklin Heck.

Library of Congress Control Number:           2012908214

ISBN:                         Hardcover                        978-1-4771-0838-3

ISBN:                         Softcover                          978-1-4771-0837-6

ISBN:                         Ebook                               978-1-4771-0839-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Contents

Foreward

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

This book is lovingly dedicated to my family

The Dean Family

My Mother: Allie Melvina Lee Dean

My Dad: Newton Lemuel Dean

And

My Nine Gentle Brothers

My Twelve Beautiful Sisters

They Know Who They Are

Foreward

I can honestly say I did not have one idea how this wonderful novel would end, and why I chose to end it in this way. I had lost my precious Baptist husband, Forrest Franklin, who was a minister. Those of you who read my first book, The Coat That Father Weaved, will remember that it was dedicated to him.

In my pain and through my hours of tears and heartache, I was, in reality able to bear some of the pain, that my families had during those days and hours, when I was in sorrow for my loss, as I penned this book.

It takes on a setting of a coal camp; somewhere in West Virginia during the great depression days. Some of the book is fictitious. Most of the characters were names I had remembered as a child; whether they be real in character or of a fictitious nature, I used them out of due love for the families of yesteryears.

Judge Henry S. Cato is a real character in this novel. I had cared for him as his private duty nurse for a period of five years. I feel like I got to know him as a nurse and as a special person. His life touched mine in a many ways, as well as the lives of others.

I have written this novel for you to read and to enjoy it’s humor; along with the difficult years the families faced. Also the injustice to coal miners that brought a lot of distress to their lives. And yes, the achievements, and yes, the willingness to move on with their lives while bringing joy to others and helping their fellow man. And still, they maintained their self respect and love of God, man and country.

Carrie Dean Franklin

Acknowledgements

This has been a labor of love by my sister, Helen Marie Dean Hendricks. She has been my editor as well as my typist. She was devoted to getting the book done for the occasion of my seventy-ninth birthday! What a wonderful birthday surprise! Without her editing and typing, this book may never have been born.

Many thanks to Dr. Charles Wood, Pastor of The First Christian Church in Logan, West Virginia, for his generous offer in allowing us to use his article, Remember the Flour Sack? We think that the article fits well with the times and setting of the story. Dr. Wood is also an accomplished instructor of psychology and religion at Southern West Virginia Community and Technical College. He also serves as a Christian counselor in Logan, West Virginia; serving, ministering and donating his time to people from all church denominations. Dr. Wood resides in Logan with his lovely wife, Doris.

And thanks a million to my Sister Oma Ellen Montgomery for her unrelenting patience in helping me to remember some of the names of yesteryear.

Also, sincere thanks to Mr. Jim Hutchinson, instructor of the Graphic Arts Class at The Ralph R. Willis Vocational/Technical School in Logan, West Virginia. He graciously gave his time to put the book together.

The names in this book are mostly fiction and any actual name herein is merely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Coal Mines and Scrip

My name is Elizabeth Grace Bailey. I was born in 1930. My birthplace was near Gilbert, a small mining town in Mingo County in the mountains of West Virginia. The old mines had been worked out for years, but the folks who lived in the mountains had to remain there. We had no place to call home other than those mountains. Our families had seen hard times as well as a few good times.

The depression was a hard task for families. Food was scarce and obtaining clothing was almost impossible. The coal mining company had long since closed their merchandise store, so getting food and clothing became a daily chore. It was a time when everyone was just surviving; not living, just surviving.

The owners of the mines were kind enough to let us live in their small company houses. No one came to collect the rent, nor was there money to keep the houses in repair. Broken windows and leaky roofs were all a part of survival. Indoor plumbing was a luxury that we had only heard about. No one owned electrical appliances.

Since the mines had closed down, piles of coal were scattered everywhere. Coal was a plentiful staple. Most families owned a coal cooking stove and the houses were built with fireplaces in every room. This was the one blessing that we thanked God for every day. We could stay warm as long as we kept the fires going in the fireplaces.

My father, John Dennis Bailey, was a strong man who could mine more coal alone than most any four men together. He would often get out of bed at dawn and walk the two miles to work when the coal mines were in full production. Very few people owned an automobile, so most of the men walked to work. One or two of the neighbors had a mule and a wagon, but they usually just walked to work with all the other miners.

The coal tipple was located high on the hillside. From the tipple, a big, black conveyor belt ran down the side of the mountain rise. Coal was dug out inside the mines using a team of mules. Twice during each shift, the miners would bring in a fresh team of mules. The coal was then loaded, with mule power, onto the conveyor belt. At the end of the belt, huge rail cars waited to be loaded with the coal. The train rails ran throughout the little coal camp neighborhood and on for miles and miles. The huge rail cars were connected to engines that looked like monsters to us youngsters. These engines, running on steel rails headed mostly north and south, hauled tons of coal to many factories.

The coal mines was a dangerous place to work. Often times, the roof of the mine would collapse, endangering the miners inside. There were times during a roof collapse, that the coal miners were buried alive! I can still see the families waiting for the miners to start their shift. A long whistle would sound to let the families know that the miners were inside the mines and ready to begin work. At the end of each work day, the same steam whistle, from the big engine, would sound again to alert the families that the miners were on their way out of the mines and would soon be home for supper. If the whistle sounded any time except at the beginning or the ending of a shift, the families always dreaded the news. It usually meant that something bad had happened at the mines. Everyone, even the youngsters, knew that this was not a good sound.

The school house in our coal camp neighborhood, was used for multiple purposes. It was the school during the week days; on Sunday, it became the worship meeting house. When a meeting of the coal miners was called, the schoolhouse was where they met. During political election time, the school house became the voting poll house.

The school children were always glad when the miners had to meet a little early to discuss mining business. They always had to discuss where the next mines would be located and who was going to sign up to work there. Most all the time, every one of them signed up. There was no where else to work.

These meetings meant that we were allowed to leave school for some playtime before our after-supper chores began. In the winter, when there was snow on the hillside, we rode down the hill on whatever we could find to slide upon. There was an old shallow pond at the bottom of one low-lying hillside. It was sometimes frozen solid and we’d spend hours skating across that pond, back and forth, back and forth. Then, someone would holler us to come to supper.

Summertime was a different story. We didn’t care much if the miners came home early from their shift. School was dismissed early in the summer. We all had to help with the farming that was done in a coal camp neighborhood. The meager gardens that we grew did help to fill our stomachs during the summer. Sometimes, we could grow enough potatoes and vegetables to have some homemade stew in the wintertime. Our mothers were very thrifty with saving the potatoes that we’d store in holes filled with dry grass. They would also seal up some of the vegetables in glass jars for food in the winter.

Sometimes during a meeting of the coal miners, a big fight would break out. If the fire boss made a mistake in figuring the hours of one of those poor miners, he heard about it in the meeting. If he refused to listen to the miners, they’d gang up on him and give him a good licking. Of course, in the end, he always gave in and paid up. Coal miners were known to stick up for each other through thick and thin.

The currency with which coal miners were paid was called scrip. It could be spent, dollar for dollar, at the coal company store which was owned by the identified company. Elk Creek Mining Company made coins which had an E in the center of the coin. In other company stores, the miners had to trade their scrip down for ten cents less than the scrip coin was worth. Scrip came in coins, much the same in size as any coin, or coupons. Scrip was made with a hole in the center of the coin; the hole was usually the initial of the coal company who made the coin. Most other stores did not recognize the scrip as currency and would not accept it as payment for merchandise. When a miner needed real money for use somewhere other than the coal company stores, they could trade their scrip for currency, dollar for dollar, at the store identified on the scrip.

Although the miners were usually satisfied with merchandise from the company store, sometimes a needed item was not available there. The merchandise from the coal company stores was always of top quality and their prices were usually comparable. Some of the clothing items were priced higher at the company stores.

The miners carried their lunch in a metal pail. A food holder fit at the top of the pail. Water was placed in the pail below the food. These pails were round in shape, with a lid to fit the food holder. My father, John Henry Bailey, carried one of these pails. When it was payday at the mines, he carried his scrip home in the empty pail. My mother, Melvina Lee Bailey, always made sure that Dad took plenty of lunch in his pail, but by the end of his shift, the pail was always empty. I think he shared his lunch with other miners who didn’t have enough to eat. Sometimes, Dad and the others had to stay back to get the expected amount of tonage out of the mines for the day.

But that was a few years ago. Seven years, to be exact. No coal trains were on the steel rails these days. After all, the coal mines had been idle for seven years. Times were hard, very hard.

Chapter 2

A New Baby

My mother, Melvina Lee Bailey, being with child all during the winter, spring and summer months, was about to give birth to a new baby. October skies came with clear blueness and little white clouds scattered throughout what seemed to be the whole world. I knew I’d be caring for a nine-year-old brother, Jessie Lee. Mom was visibly ready to have the new baby. I’d probably be expected to help with the new babe as well as take care of my rascal brother! Well, I was the older sister; so I’d step up to the responsibility. I was thirteen and I really didn’t want to return to school. After all, a thirteen-year-old girl knows every thing she needs to know. My Dad did not share my opinion. Come October 22, I would be returning to school.

As luck would have it, the new baby boy came on October 2. The year is 1943. Come November 19, I would turn thirteen. Baby boy, Ralph Newton Bailey, weighed in at 8 pounds and 21 inches long. Bouncy and healthy best describes him, with a super set of lungs which he was not the least bit shy to use!

But, mother was not doing as well as the baby. The birth had been a difficult one because the baby was in the wrong position to be born. Effie Ward, the midwife, and a neighbor lady were there to birth the baby. Thank God, they had experienced breech births before. They made tea from sassafras bark and Mother drank it. Later, I learned that this would slow the bleeding during a difficult birth; something about the acid in the bark. Mother was exhausted, to say it mildly. But, during the whole procedure, I could hear my dad praying. I don’t believe Dad expected the birth to be anything but normal. Twenty-two hours of labor to deliver a child was not considered normal in the coal mining camp neighborhoods, so several of the neighbor ladies came to lend support to my mother.

During the next few weeks, neighbor ladies took turns coming for three hours each day. I had more than my usual share of household chores to do, even though they were there every day to help with little Ralph and to do the cooking. Being a strong and proud thirteen-year-old girl, I was determined to do my share without grumbling. My dad did not allow such behavior anyway. So, I mustered up and took care of Jessie Lee.

School had begun. Jessie Lee and I were both going to school as usual. Every morning, I would get up early to get Jessie Lee and myself off to school. Dad was out in the garden early to gather the pumpkins and late squash. These were staple foods along with the vegetables canned from the garden and the potatoes in the grass lined hole. Dad had also traded around for a few chickens, so there were fresh eggs to be gathered. Neighbors traded eggs and vegetables for milk and butter from the folks who had cows.

Jessie Lee came dragging into the kitchen for his breakfast, which I always had ready for him. He never had much to say early in the morning, but he seemed to enjoy the meals I prepared and by the time we left for school, he was ready for learning. Jessie Lee, unlike me, loved school and learning. I did not detest school, however; and I did very well in my classes. Sometimes, I suppose I just felt that I was smarter than the teacher!

One or the other of the neighbor ladies were always there before we left for school. For this, I was very grateful. My education did mean a lot to me; so I stayed up late every night getting my lessons done and studying for tests that were sure to happen the next day. My dad did not realize how late I was staying up. I always put coal on the fireplace to keep the house warm and I kept the small light bulb burning in my bedroom to get my lessons done.

After about two months, my mother was strong enough to go about her daily work. I had never once complained, well not that my dad knew about, but I was surely glad that Mother was back to her old self. She was a super mother; a super woman. Everyone loved our Mother. The neighbor ladies were happy to see her up and going again. The coal camp neighborhood ladies took care of each other much the same as the coal miners did.

Very soon, my mother noticed that I was looking pale and had dark circles under my eyes. She knew that I had worked hard to help keep things going around our house. I had kept this hidden from her during her recuperation period. She was breast-feeding the baby, which is what most of the coal camp neighborhood ladies did; so making bottles for baby Ralph had not been one of my chores. I had managed to steer fairly clear of her room during the past few weeks.

Much to my surprise, my mother told my dad that I had not been resting enough and that he was to see to it that Jessie Lee did my chores for the next two weeks! Well, to put it lightly, Jessie Lee did not like this arrangement one bit; but he knew better than to complain to our dad. He did his chores and mine for the next two weeks, telling me nightly how much he hated me and stomped off to bed. I never said one word to dad or mother. When the two weeks were over, Jessie Lee came whispering to my room. Sis, can I come in? He ran over to me, threw his little arms around my neck and said, I’m sorry I complained about doing your chores. You were SO good to me when mommy was sick". I put my arms around my little brother and held him until the tears stopped. Then I kissed his red, chubby little cheeks and sent him off to bed. Tomorrow was a school day and he should have been in bed an hour ago. Little brother knew I loved him.

My birthday was only three days away. I knew we could not afford new chothes, but a new dress for my birthday would be such a nice surprise. Maybe, just maybe, it would be on my bed when I came from school on my birthday. I had seen my mother pressing out a pretty feed sack that I was sure dad had traded from one of the neighbors. We used a flat iron which had to be placed on the cook stove to heat it up enough to iron our clothes. My clothes, and everyones clothes, had been patched a lot.

Mother kept us as neat as anyone could be kept in patched and handmade clothes. Always, our clothes were clean. I had gotten my share of doing the laundry on a washing board in a tub while mother was recuperating from birthing our baby brother. Someday soon, I hoped that my mother would get one of those electric washing machines!

Chapter 3

Feed Sack Dresses and Burlap Coats

On Friday morning, November 19, my birthday, I awoke to find a brand new dress lying on the foot of my bed. The flowers were periwinkle with light green leaves and the background fabric was pink; pink like the night sky before a beautiful sunny day. It was the feed sack fabric that I’d seen my mother pressing with the flat iron. It was the prettiest dress I’d ever owned! My mother had sewn it for me on her Singer treddle sewing machine. It had taken her two days to make this beautiful dress for my thirteenth birthday.

Jessie Lee and I were going off to school every morning; so I had no idea that she could even take the time from caring for baby brother Ralph to sew a dress for me! She said that dad had helped her with him so that the dress could be a present from the two of them. There were tears in my eyes when I went into the kitchen to hug my mom for doing this for me. Jessie Lee was waiting for me to get going to school. We had a hurried breakfast. Dad was already out in the chicken coop. I would thank him this afternoon when we came home from school.

My steps were light as we tripped off to school. The November air was cold, so I had to wear my coat over my dress. As soon as I entered the small, warm school building I would remove my coat immediately. There was a certain young man at school whose head I’d been hoping to turn. Maybe thirteen was a little young for this, but we had known each other for three years, now. In winter, we’d skated on the pond together, with other friends; and at the end of summer, dad had allowed both Jessie Lee and I to go on a hayride with several other neighborhood youngsters. Jess would be ten-years-old on January 18. Sometimes he would tease me about such things, as boys often would do to their older sisters. Jessie Lee was no different, believe me!

Lost in thought, I suddenly realized that we were nearing the school yard. Then, I saw him. He was just going up the school steps, two at a time. His name was Jonathan Edward Franklin. He was already sixteen-years-old; three whole years older than me. But he was really a nice guy! I had overheard him telling his friends during the neighborhood hayride that he had turned sixteen on September 4. Determined that he would notice my new dress, I intentionally quickened my steps. Jessie Lee smiled and walked faster, too.

Upon entering the school room, I deliberately removed my coat and quietly took my seat. Jonathan was standing by the pot-bellied stove warming his hands. He nodded his head to me and smiled. I purposefully brushed the shoulders of my dress and smiled back at him. My heart was pounding. I hope he didn’t notice my heart pounding heart, but I do think he noticed my new dress. Jessie Lee scuffed his foot on the floor. Swiftly, I shot my brother a warning glance.

The school day went along smoothly. Jonathan even made small talk with me a couple of times. But on the way home, I began to think more about my clothes than I had ever thought. My old clothes had been patched and repatched. I didn’t have a place on some of my clothes to add a patch! All my dresses were made from feed sacks, a priceless commodity in a coal mining neighborhood. Dad took care when opening a sack of feed for the chickens. He knew that our mother would make a garment for one of us from the sack. Even though I really appreciated the dresses she made for me, there were days when I remembered buying pretty dresses from the coal company store. I had been six-years-old then, just starting in the Primer at school. It seemed so long ago. The depression had taken its toll on all of us. Sunday was only one day away. The families always seemed to be in higher spirits after church on Sunday.

Even our under garments were made from cream-colored feed sacks. Mother had learned to knit, so she tried to make each of us four pairs of socks a year. Sometimes, it was not possible to get the yarn to make them. So, she mended the old ones.

My coat was made from burlap sacks. Sometimes I pretended that my clothes all came from Broad Way of New York. On my coat, I embroidered flowers from scraps of thread that mother gave to me. She’d tell me how pretty my coat was with the flowers on the collar and the sleeve cuffs. It did indeed improve the drab looks of the burlap.

Jessie Lee had a new jacket. Mom had made it for him from Dad’s worn out denim shirt and some scraps of burlap. It was a rather stylish jacket with a perfect fit. Mother had a knack for cutting our clothes exactly to size, even when we were not there to be measured for fit. Jessie Lee was growing like a weed and needed new clothes often. His jeans were mostly made from Dad’s worn out ones. His shirts, Mother made from stripped feed sacks. Jess always looked neat in his handspun outfits.

Somehow, those poor coal miners managed to buy each of us one pair of shoes every winter. I think they sold eggs and firewood to the folks down town who had a little better means of making a living. One mercantile store remained open down town. They sold feed for the animals and a few farming tools. This supplied jobs for a few folks.

Chapter 4

Handmade Furniture and Cane Bottom Chairs

Our furniture began to show signs of wear and tear. My mother’s furniture was not expensive and it was older than me. Dad knew how to build furniture, but supplies were not easy to come by. The dresser in their bedroom had one broken leg which happened when we moved from Virginia to the coal fields of West Virginia. The cane-bottom chairs were in disrepair. Dad could fix this, if he could only get the supplies.

Early on Saturday morning, I heard Dad awaken Jessie Lee. He was headed to the woods to find hickory trees. They would pull long strips of bark from the trees to use for reweaving the chair bottoms. They returned late in the evening with several strips of bark and Dad soaked it in a tub of hot water and lye. The lye acted as a tanning acid. This procedure took place in the back yard. After the bark strips soaked for about four hours, Dad and Jessie Lee hung the strips over the wooden rail fence to dry. December had come in rather mildly, so they were able to leave the strips hanging on the fence over night. Next morning, Dad and Jessie Lee brought the strips inside and placed them behind the coal cooking stove for more drying. It was Sunday, so the bark would dry there until the next morning.

The walk to church was not a long one. Church meetings were actually conducted in the schoolhouse. One of the men would slide the teacher’s desk to the side and put the minister’s pulpit in place. The preacher sat in the teacher’s seat until time for him to take his place behind the pulpit.

Following the custom, everyone sat with family members. Not willing to hide my new dress, I sat on the end which was usually Jessie Lee’s place. Besides, the Franklin Family was only one row over and Jonathan was on the end of their row! Jessie Lee stuck his tongue out at me, then smiled really big and slid over beside mother. He would help her with Ralph today. Anyway, Ralph was a jolly little fellow and was no trouble in church. I glanced over at Jonathan and he was looking right at me! He smiled one great, big smile; I felt my cheeks flushing. He put his hand over his mouth and turned his head.

The church meeting, I’m sure, was a good one. There was much singing and then the preacher read from the Holy Word. I don’t remember another thing about that meeting. Mother tugged on my sleeve and smiled at me. It was time to go home.

When we got home, Dad and Jessie Lee talked about getting started on the chair bottoms tomorrow. Jessie Lee would help after school and I would gather his wood and put in into the big wood box behind the stove. I didn’t mind. Anyway, as soon as we