Preventing “the Needless Peril of the Coal Mine”: The Bureau of Mines and the Campaign against Coal Mine Explosions, 1910-1940 MARK ALDRICH There are a few of us alive yet. Oh God for one more breath. Ellen, remember me as long as you live. Good-bye darling. [Henry Beach, who died, trapped by an explosion in the Fraterville mine, Coal Creek, Tennessee, 1902.] 4:45 p.m.—They are going fast now. The bug light is still burning. Men are moving. All weak as kats. [Jay Smith, who died, trapped by an explosion in the Sonman E mine, Portage, Pennsylvania, 1940.]' The year 1907 had been a bad one for mine explosions: by Novem ber 200 men had been killed in ten major disasters. But as matters turned out, this was merely a tune-up. Pennsylvania inspector Henry Louttit worried about the Naomi mine, just south of Pittsburgh. It was gassy and worked with open-flame lamps and bare electric wires, even on the return air current. In November 1906 he read a letter from Francis Feehan, president of United Mine Workers (UMW) District 5, forwarding a miner’s complaint that the mine needed bet ter ventilation and that there was a “constant danger of serious explo sion.” Louttit visited the mine in February, May, and August 1907 and repeatedly wrote the management, warning that it was indeed Dr. Aldrich is professor of economics at Smith College. He thanks Michele Aldrich and the Technology and Culture referees for helpful comments on earlier drafts of the article, and Jim Cassidy of the National Archives for assistance with Bureau of Mines materials. A version of this article was presented at the 1993 meeting of the Pacific Division of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. 'Henry Beach is from Andrew Roy, A History of Coal Miners, 3d ed. (Columbus, Ohio, 1907), p. 7; Jay Smith is from “The Tragic Story of Approaching Death in Sonman Mine,” United Mine Workers Journal 51 (November 1, 1940): 10.© 1995 by the Society for the History of Technology. All rights reserved. 0040-165X/95/3603-0003$01.00 483 484 Mark Aldrich gassy and poorly ventilated. On November 18, Louttit again wrote the foreman, calling his attention especially to ventilation. The foreman replied the same day, informing him that “the law is being complied with.” On the evening of December 1, at about 7:45 p.m., Naomi exploded. The normal workforce was about 350 men. Fortunately, December 1 was a Sunday, and the evening force was small, only thirty-four men. Everyone was killed.2 Five days later the employees in Monongah, West Virginia, number 6 and number 8 mines were not so lucky. The mines had been con nected—a dangerous practice but one that saved the cost of an extra shaft—and the complete force of 367 men was at work. Five survived the blast. It was the worst mine explosion in American history. Inves tigators noted that working places had been driven long distances between breakthroughs so that probably little air got to the face. Despite dust and gas, open-flame lamps were used. Blasting was done with black powder while the men were in the mine, and no shot-firers were employed.3 Less than two weeks later two more tragedies struck in quick succes sion. The first was at the Yolande, Alabama, mine in which a miner’s open lamp touched off a gas and dust explosion. Of the eighty-seven men in the mine, fifty-seven were killed. Three days later, Pittsburgh Coal’s Darr mine in Jacob’s Creek, Pennsylvania, exploded. Darr was very dry and dusty, reported Pennsylvania’s inspectorJohn Bell when he visited in May 1906. Immediately after the inspection, Bell warned both the foreman and superintendent to use safety lamps, as he had found gas in “dangerous quantities.” Superintendent Archibald Black replied that he was sorry to hear of such conditions and assured Bell 2The Bureau of Mines defined a disaster as a single event in which five or more people were killed. Where there is some dispute on the number of lives lost, I have relied on bureau estimates from H. B...