Disasters: Too Late for 78

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After ten days during which 16 explosions rocked the mine and turned its tunnels into blast furnaces of flame, gas and smoke, Consolidation Coal Company's Number 9 in Marion County, W. Va., was sealed last week. That somber decision made the mine a tomb for the 78 men missing in its depths. But company, government and union officials agreed that there was no other way to save the burning mine—and that the trapped men below were almost certainly dead from fire or gas, or both.

Mining coal has long been the nation's most hazardous occupation. Since 1952, more than 5,000 men have been killed and 250,000 seriously injured in mining accidents. This year alone, 190 men have died in the mines. Those are only the known casualties. It is estimated that at the very least, 10% of all active miners and 20% of those retired have contracted "black lung" (pneumoconiosis), a respiratory disease caused by years of inhaling coal dust.

Yet the grimy, coughing coal miner is inured to the dangers of his calling.

He is stoic about the deaths of friends and relatives and accepts as "part of the game" the high possibility that he may be crushed, burned, suffocated or drowned in his own Cimmerian tomb.

His very fatalism has helped to perpetuate the conditions under which miners work and die.

Scared to Speak. If complacency has helped to stave off 20th century safety precautions underground, economics has been an even more formidable barrier.

Since the advent of petroleum and electricity as primary energy sources for many industries, King Coal has moved cautiously. The miners and their natural ombudsmen, their union leaders and politicians, were and are scared to speak out in favor of compulsory reforms that might force coal prices up and out of the market—and cost the men virtually the only secure employment in job-scarce Appalachia, where most of the mines are located.

In a good week, with overtime, a miner can bring home $200, a tidy sum in the hill country. Besides, the mines are heavy tax producers for the states in which they are located. Thus it requires a great deal of courage to speak out in favor of safety precautions and equipment that can add to the operating costs of the mines.

In the wake of the Consol 9 disaster, Representative Ken Hechler of Huntington, W. Va., had the necessary courage. Said he: "Coal miners don't have to die. In a civilized society, it is nothing short of criminal to allow present conditions to continue in the coal mines.

Coal miners have a right to live, to breathe, and to be protected by 20th century safety standards. The nation must rise up and demand that strong and effective mine-safety legislation be passed by Congress."

What Hechler seeks is revival of the bill that President Johnson submitted to Congress last September, which died without so much as a committee hearing. If adopted, the measure would replace a toothless law enacted in 1952. It would:

> Extend federal enforcement to the face of the mine, the area of digging where many of the deaths occur.

> Eliminate the "grandfather clause" that allows old and unsafe electrical equipment to be used in the mines.