BUFFALO CREEK: Two Stories

The rushing waves of black water on a rainy Saturday morning over 30 years ago tore a hole in people’s lives that has never been mended. We were visiting an aunt in Ohio when we got the news that the Buffalo Creek dam had burst. I remember the awful drive home, wondering if my aunts, uncles, and cousins on Buffalo Creek were alive or dead. The telephone lines were down, and then Gov. Arch Moore had called in the National Guard to close off the area. Unable to get any news, two of my uncles climbed to the ridge tops and walked into Buffalo Creek.

The first thing they encountered was a makeshift morgue where they were asked to identify bodies. The shattered, blackened remains of a man, woman, and child could have been my aunt, uncle and their daughter. The bodies were so mangled that my uncles couldn’t be sure. Fortunately, they later found that all of my family had made it to safety. One hundred and twenty-five others were not as fortunate.

When the National Guard reopened the area, we drove down there. I remember seeing furniture in trees and houses smashed into splinters. I was 8-years-old, and I remember thinking how awful the flood had been. Years later, I realized that it was criminal negligence by the Pittston Coal Co. that caused the deaths of all those people.

The coal industry and many state officials have long treated the people of the coalfields as a disposable resource. Speaking after the disaster, Gov. Moore said, "The only real sad part is that the state of West Virginia has taken a terrible beating which far overshadowed the beating which the individuals that lost their lives took, and I consider this an even greater tragedy."

This blatant disregard for human life still permeates the political atmosphere of the state. Coal companies are allowed to continue operations, even after repeatedly releasing toxic black sludge into streams and water supplies. Permits are issued to build massive slurry impoundments with the potential for destroying even more lives than were lost on Buffalo Creek. Then, the coal industry works relentlessly to marginalize any dissenting voices.

One of the latest victims of the coal industry’s effort to silence the truth is Jack Spadaro. He was a member of the ad hoc commission Governor Moore appointed to investigate the Buffalo Creek disaster. Over the next several years, he worked to improve the safety level of slurry impoundments in the state. Now, Jack Spadaro is in danger of losing his job as the superintendent of the National Mine Safety and Health Academy because he spoke out about federal and industry failures regarding the investigation into the 2000 Martin County coal slurry spill near Inez, Ky.

The residents on Buffalo Creek were silenced as well. One woman had written a letter to the governor complaining about the unsafe condition of the dam at least four years before it broke, but nothing was done about it. Will it take another Buffalo Creek disaster before the officials of this state listen to the people who are being affected by coal slurry impoundments?

The lives of the people on Buffalo Creek were valuable, and the lives of those living in harm’s way today are valuable. How long will it be before state officials and the Bush administration realize that the lives of people are immensely more valuable than a chunk of coal?

It Should Never Have Happened

by Patty Adkins

The tragedy on Buffalo Creek was years in the making. Pittston Coal Co. began dumping coal waste on the middle fork of Buffalo Creek in 1957. By 1968, the coal company was dumping more waste another 600 feet upstream. By 1972, a third dam was built that ranged from 45-60 feet in height.

The people of Buffalo Creek were aware that these dams existed, and were afraid that they might break. In 1967, the U.S. Department of the Interior warned state officials that the Buffalo Creek dams and 29 others throughout West Virginia were unsafe. Furthermore, Pittston had a record of mining and safety violations. Still, neither the state nor mining officials made any effort to deal with the problem of the slurry impoundment on Buffalo Creek. I was 11-years-old when the Buffalo Creek disaster occurred. My family lived on Braeholm Hill and we stood there that morning and watched the devastation unfold. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as I watched people in houses and vehicles float by. I remember the sound of the black water breaking the houses apart, and seeing animals trying to stay afloat in the raging waters. And after the water went down, I remember seeing two men pull the dead body of a woman from a house that had been lodged against the train trestle. At the time, I thought it was a terrible natural disaster. It was only as an adult that I realized all those deaths were caused by the negligence of the coal industry.

The survivors of the Buffalo Creek disaster have to live with the memories of that day. If state officials had taken heed in 1967 when they were warned of the dangers of these impoundment dams, there wouldn’t be an anniversary of this tragedy on February 26. State officials today should not let history repeat itself.