Hellraisers Journal – Wednesday December 2, 1908
Marianna, Pennsylvania – Heartrending Reports from Gertrude Gordon
From The Pittsburg Press of November 29, 1908:
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WOMEN MUTE SUFFERERS AT MARIANNA MINE
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Bear Their Great, Anxious Sorrow,
in a Benumbed Fashion
-Rescuers Come From the Shaft,
to Be Followed by Others
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By Gertrude Gordon.
Marianna, Pa., At the Mine, Midnight.-The first thing that struck my ears on leaving the train at Marianna was the hysterical scream of a woman.
With my nerves keyed to a tension by the reports I had heard all the way up from Pittsburg, and the conversations relating to the terrible mine disaster, I expected to enter upon a scene and sights of the utmost horror, but that one scream was all I heard.
“My boy,” calling her son, and that was all.
Not a star shown on the skies, even the moon glimmered but dully, the only light being the points of brightness which showed the presence of the lanterns and the smoking torches flaming in an inadequate attempt to light the darkness. At the mouth of the Rachel shaft, where formerly had stood compact machinery and rough, although completely equipped sheds, was only a shapeless mass of debris. Official-looking men in blue uniforms stood around, keeping black all the people who were pressing to get closer to the shaft.
Impassively they turned away, anxious relatives and curious onlookers. Stolidly they replied to all questions with an evasive answer, or none at all. Clambering over piles of boards, sliding down newly cut gullies, splashed with mud and breathless from the strain of finding any way in the dark through an unfamiliar place, I at last reached where formerly the shaft had been.
REAL PITEOUS HORROR.
Over the mouth of the yawning pit hung a half dozen men, moving only to guide the rope which held the bucket in which were the rescuers who were sent down the shaft again and again, trying to effect an opening to the imprisoned men.
With a creak of the rope, and a throb of the engine, the bucket would come up, the men would step out, others take their places, all silently, and down would go the bucket again, the only hope for the entombed miners to reach light and life again.
Turning from this I saw the real piteous horror of the accident, the group of women huddled together outside the lines, mute, dejected, kept from utter despair only by a thread of hope so slender as to be almost non-existent.
Just the faint chance that some one might be alive in that black pit before them kept down the frantic grief that certainty of the fatalities would have precipitated.
The advent of a few automobiles brought the searching glare of acetylene lamps to illuminate further the desolation and wreck of broken timbers and twisted machinery. Wagons unloading blankets and quilts for the reception of the bodies of the ill-fated men when they would be recovered, added an atmosphere of dread. More wagons filled with straw further exemplified the horror. Packages of sponges and rolls of towling in readiness to be used for the wounded were more witnesses of the scenes which could be expected.
A low moan from some of the women or a sob from a man were the only sounds which emanated from the mass of watchers. Up in the office of the company that owned the mine was a group of anxious men, their faces drawn with weariness and worry, looking over the books to find out just who were missing and arranging the pay envelopes so as to expedite the paying off of the survivors.
Besieged with inquiring relatives of the men entombed in the mine, the lot of the officials of the company was hardly more fortunate than those bereaved, for they felt responsibility of all the woe and grief that hangs so heavily around them.
While I was sitting at the rickety table in one corner of the office trying to write my story by the light of an oil lamp, a low moaning which at first I scarcely noticed, grew steadily louder and more heart-rending in intensity, and I knew that its author was gradually coming nearer and nearer to the building in which I was stationed, from the great, dark outside.
A hammering on the door took one of the men to open it.
The woman stood there, her eyes dull with weeping, her mouth seemingly stationary and half open, as though she had been emitting those moans for uncounted time.
“My man. I want to see my man,” she begged.
Tenderly the men told her that her man was not there.
“Me look,” she insisted.
Pityingly, they allowed her to search every corner of the office with her clutching, exploring fingers and her lantern.
From The Pittsburg Press of November 30, 1908:
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FEARFUL SCENES WERE ENACTED AT PIT MOUTH
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Frantic Mothers and Daughters Appeal
in Vain to Officials for Bodies of
Husbands, Sons and Sweethearts
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SOLE SURVIVOR TELLS STORY OF CATASTROPHE
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BY GERTRUDE GORDON.
Staff Corespondent of the Press
Marianna, Pa., Nov. 30.-Although really the worst of the terrible mine disaster, so far as outward appearances go, was over before I reached here, yet the scenes that I saw taking place were heart-rending.
I was told that as soon as it was generally known that the explosion had occurred, which was about 11 o’clock Saturday morning [November 28th] the shaft was surrounded by a throng of frantic people, of course principally women.
Husbands, brothers, sweethearts, sons, all were down in the horrible depths of the pit. With screams, prayers and pleading cries the relatives besought the mine officials to allow them to go down to try to rescue the victims, or to give them news, or in many cases where the bereaved one was almost crazed by the horror of the catastrophe, the body, living or dead of the loved one was demanded by threats as well as persuasion.
With cool heads and aching, miserable hearts, the authorities tried to soothe the poor creatures, and by establishing danger lines managed to keep them away from the mouth of the shaft. Six troopers of the State Constabulary were on the scenes as soon as they could get here, and to these was intrusted the task of keeping a degree of order.
As night came on the watchers gradually grew less violent until by the time I arrived at the mine, at 7 o’clock, very few outbursts of grief were heard anywhere. It would have been better in a way if there had been, for the awful stillness seemed unnatural, considering the circumstances.
STILLNESS WAS AWFUL.
The sight of the hundreds of people, almost every one of whom had some one in the mine, all quiet, scarcely speaking, was awful. They moved only when there was some unusual manifestation at the shaft. Then the whole mass would surge forward as though by order. The unvoiced grief of all those people seemed to grip the heart and made one fairly hold one’s breath against one’s will.
[To be continued…]
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Widows and orphans of the victims standing near the shaft waiting for the bodies of their husbands and parents.
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Rescuers carrying a body from the mine entrance.
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A part of the crowd at the mine. Showing the great mob of morbidly curious spectators and affected miners pressing against the ropes.
