Riding With Larry

By John Wessel-McCoy

The group traveled with Larry Gibson up to the Stanley Heirs Park Land Trust (Larry’s home) on Kayford Mountain. Larry hadn’t realized we were the people he was meeting with today. Apparently Evelyn or Abe, the organizer from OHVEC (Ohio Valley Environmental Coalition), arranged the meeting. And so Larry was surprised and pleased to see us back exactly one year from our first encounter – with new people in our group to bear witness to his struggle against the coal operators and the horrible reality of mountain top removal.

The whole group caravanned with Larry leading the way, and a few of us rode in his truck. He asked that those riding with him pay attention to what he had to say so that we could share with the rest of the group later. Here are some of the notes from the ride.

First of all, Larry stated that in the 1940’s, there were about 750,000 mining jobs. Around 1960, that number had fallen to about 260,000. Today, there are less than 30,000 jobs in the state. According to his figures, that means that there are only 4% of the jobs there once were. (Yesterday, in Matewan, Donna Mae placed the job attrition along similar lines. She claimed that there is more coal being mined and produced today in West Virginia than in any other time in its history. Yet the industry provides 1/15 of the jobs that it once did back in the middle of the 20th century.)

Who’s to blame for the loss of jobs? Larry says that environmentalists and activists like himself often get the blame, but he points out that, well before anyone was talking about the environment, the industry itself was mechanizing and adopting new, less labor intensive mining techniques.

Mile after mile, through the hollers of Cabin Creek, we would pass small clusters of buildings, and Larry would describe what once existed. Passing through Eskdale, he told us how this town once thrived, with a city council, a police force, a fire department, a high school of up to 1500 students, 18 stores (not one but two shoe stores), and two movie theaters – now all gone. What remain are just a few run down houses and the crumbling foundations of where buildings once stood. The ruins of coal tipples, explosive bunkers (for dynamiting in the mines), and a pay house dot the torn up rail road bed that runs parallel with the road. Mine entrances that once swallowed 650 men everyday now are sealed shut.

Yet, regardless of the clear local economic devastation, the coal in these hills still yields unbelievable profits for some. Larry had a math problem for us to figure out. At present, how much coal can be hauled out of a hollow in one working week (six days)? To begin with, Larry told us that his father worked as a loader, and was good at his job. He could load onto a train car about 50 tons of coal in a days work. The mechanized process that exists today can load three times that amount in 60 seconds. One coal car can hold about 140 tons. And about 300 cars are filled and leave the hollow every day. The going rate for a ton of coal goes for between $60 and $80. So, how much coal in dollars does Massey haul out of one site in the course of a six day week?

140 tons X 300 cars/day = 42,000 tons per day X 6 = 252,000 per week X $60/ton = $15,120,000

…And that’s just what coal leaves on trains. I couldn’t keep up with the Larry’s figures on the coal that gets hauled out by trucks (leaving about every three minutes).

And with all of this profit, the company has shown absolutely no regard for the jobs it has eliminated and the lives of workers lost. To illustrate some of the attitudes he encounters, Larry told us about a conference he attended concerning nuclear energy that was hosted in a church. There was in attendance also a man who was both a nuclear physicist and an ordained minister. This man stood up at one point and stated that, concerning worker causalities, some “collateral damage” is necessary in order for the nation to maintain a comfortable standard of living. After hearing nonsense like this from such highly educated men, Larry stood up at this conference and said “Some of you with educations ought to be ashamed of your education to say the things you say.”

At what cost do we do the things we do? Above ground mining in proportion to the number of its workers has claimed a statistically higher number of lives on the job than the notorious decades of below ground mining. 550 lives have been lost in the relatively short time that above ground mining has been around – for what purpose? In fact, just yesterday, in a mine nearby, a driver was dumping waste into the slurry when his truck tipped back and dragged him down into the toxic waste.

Millions of acres of ruined land have yet to be reclaimed – despite legal mandates. The companies evade their responsibilities to restore the land they have ravaged. The job of land reclamation could employ thousands of people for generations to come, but how is it in the interests of coal companies to pay for this work – especially when it is so easy to squirm out of any legal responsibility? If the job ever gets done, it will be on the taxpayers dime.

As we made the steep climb up Kayford Mountain to Larry’s home, Larry told us about how the mining company had bulldozed a family cemetery of his just this past year – a cemetery with ancestors dating back more than two centuries! Once 250 souls rested on top of this mountain; now only eleven graves remain in tact and the bones and stones of the rest are now scattered in the debris of the valley fill below.

Larry said that when this happened, on the day it happened, he was lucky to have been busy giving some people a tour. Had he been alone that day, not having the obligation to maintain his composure in front of his visitors, he says he might have thrown all the years of struggle and hard work away with one desperate act. Larry is a man of exceptional courage, but on that day, he almost was beaten. Luckily, through his grief and despair, he found strength to carry on. Larry says that the coal companies have taken just about everything away from him, except the fact that he is right and the cause he is fighting for is right.

And because of the faith he has in his cause he acts and speaks, “with lightning in my feet, fire in my belly, and thunder in my words.”

Recap

By Dan Carriόn

So a few days ago we got to meet some folks who do local justice work, their names were Dennis and Rick. It was a really interesting talk because they have been doing this work for a good deal of time, and have a nice, complimentary work relationship and friendship. Anyway, the guy named Rick was really interesting because he was so charismatic and involved in the work he does. He framed organizing in terms of karate, and positioning yourself to have the ‘superior’ ground. He also said some stuff that I didn’t necessarily agree with, but it seems as if time, age, and difficult organizing work has weathered and jaded him and transformed his opinions. He alluded that time has made him more of a pragmatist, and accepting of capitalism, rather than his ‘Marist days’.

We also did a textual reflection on a bible reading: Naomi and Ruth. These reflections have really been a big deal for me, as I generally consider myself agnostic and have little connection and work with the bible. Sometimes, I have a hard time reading bible passages because the style is obviously different than modern English, but I think that I put up a block to working with religious things due to bad past experience. However, this time around, the text really spoke to me. I was exhilarated by the text, and I found a lot of connections between theoretical analysis and observed realities, so my brain was really sparking. These connections were apparently visible because Willie approached me later to tell me that he appreciated my comments and insights…that was really exciting for me. To have Willie Baptist compliment you is just amazing, no matter what.

Yesterday we went to Matewan, WV. This was a really cool experience because we got to see the movie beforehand, and learn some of the history. Matewan was not that exciting of a place by itself, but in the context of the history and its legacy, it was riveting. It spoke to me because it was a labor movement that was SO threatening that their adversaries resorted to mass death and killing to try to get their way. The government and company did not want unionizing, and would do anything to tear it apart. There was, however, so much kinship (out of necessity) in that place and people organizing across color and nationality lines that was really intense and powerful. I don’t know, I just feel like there is a powerful legacy when people started saying that their bodies WILL NOT become another piece of the commodity chain, or a variable source (and aim) of inequality.

After a long day, we returned and were all hanging out. During that time, Carl proposed to Derrick that the three of us go in the chapel and sing a little bit. What happened was that Derrick turned it into a singing lesson/workshop/boot camp. It was really intense and powerful. For a long time, I gave up on music because I perceived it as my selfish pursuit. I saw no value in it outside of personal value. However, yesterday, I was reminded that music is another language, it is storytelling, it is lived experience, it is love, spirituality and passion…and it has a very important role in the movement to end poverty. We did little exercises where the rhythms permeated my body and consciousness. During that singing, my voice just followed my body, and my body was just following emotion.

I have found that I have developed some relationships here that I never want to let go of. I have shared the deepest tears and the strongest laughter with these people in such a short amount of time. I have shared some awesome experiences so far, and will hopefully continue to do so.

Matewan

by Alicia Swords

I rode in the car on the way to Matewan with Beth from Teen DAWG (Direct Action Welfare Group). She described how she and several of the kids of DAWG members chased the commissioner of Health and Human Resources across the capital grounds and then surrounded him to demand answers about the cuts to TANF, or welfare. That’s the day they decided to become Teen DAWG. What spunk! I was impressed.

This morning we studied the biblical text of Isaiah 6 and 61 and reflected on the Poverty Initiative’s immersion trip to the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina. We watched a slideshow Colleen Wessel-McCoy put together along with Isaiah 6:9 “He said, “Go and tell this people: ‘Be ever hearing but never understanding; be ever seeing, but never perceiving.” I felt a lot like that as we drove to Matewan.

We left the main highway after stopping at a gas station near a Wal-Mart that seemed to have a mountain carved away just for it. We drove down a windy road along a creek and next to the railroad tracks. I found myself sharply noticing the landscape and imagining how humans have carved it out. But I felt like I was seeing and not perceiving. I kept asking myself, “How did this happen? How did this get here? Who lives here? What is life like for them? Who lived here before? Where are they now?” What we saw seemed to be coal extraction in reverse. We saw barges on the river with coal, trains loaded with coal, the mechanism (what is it called?) that loads coal into the trains, then a glimpse of a mine, the fenced entryway to the mine with trucks parked, and the requisite signs. Above, the hillside with a thin scruff of trees on the ridge. And then we wound around skimming along next to the narrow area between the hillside and the road, the creek and the railroad.

There is a narrow margin for the things of life, for the people that mine the coal and their families, for the people who used to mine coal. Were they expendable? How many people have retired? How many are on disability or Social Security? What do they do now? We saw trailers, more trailers, Christmas ornaments, plastic swing sets, a wooden footbridge that crossed the creek, burned down and abandoned trailers with the insulation hanging out, houses, some new pre-fab ones. We passed a school whose name indicated a collaboration between the coal company and the town. And then a few McMansions. What were they doing there? What resources or energy were extracted to create that capital? And then the Matewan Mall. Brick projects, maybe company housing.

I looked for signs of activity, of dignity, of community.

Then the road wound steeply down, curvy like a car commercial, with some switchbacks that left my stomach uphill. And then we found ourselves in Matewan. “Welcome to Matewan,” a sign announced. The town was a few rows of houses along both sides of the railroad. No coincidence. I imagined some people could capitalize a bit from tourists, but how many tourists come to see the site of a 1920 battle of workers and the company militia? How many families can live year-round on what a few tourists will drop in the town?

We met Eddie Ninnie outside the diner. He owns a department store and told about how the coal mining companies have consolidated and cut jobs. People say there used to be 250,000 jobs in mining and today only 15,000. There were many different coal companies and gradually Massey Coal has bought them all up. Similarly, he said, Wal-Mart has put all the suppliers for his little town department store out of business, which puts him on the edge. The owner of Massey Coal, Eddie said, owns 50-some cars and leaves one in each airport around the state, so he can always drive to wherever he needs to go. He gives Christmas presents to all the families in the community.

The diner was one place to see and try to perceive, to hear and try to understand. Historical photos of Matewan papered the walls.

Donna May came out to tell us about Matewan. She was warm and relaxed and proud of her town and its history. It seemed that she would tell her story to anyone who visited the diner. She has organized a re-enactment of the battle of Matewan for the last 8 years. She tells the story, researches and comes back and tells it again.

She was thrilled that most of us had watched Matewan, the film. 1920, she explained, was the biggest battle of organized labor. The mining contracts at the time prohibited association of people across color lines. But little by little blacks, Italians and whites had unionized. “I don’t understand how you talk, how you cook, but I know we’re all working in the mines,” she said, taking on the role of a worker. The battle made more people join the labor movement, and changed the movement as people saw that workers could associate across color lines, she explained. “I’m not a crusader for the union,” she said, “I’m a crusader for human rights.”

She explained, “We didn’t know segregation in Matewan.” But after the battle, there was more starvation in 1920-21 than in 1918-19, because the company said, “I’m going to starve you out.” Witnesses she interviewed who are still living said they have never seen a worse time than that time in 1920-21. But “no matter what color you were, we stuck together.”

“I came from a whole family of coal miners. My grandfather was 44 when he died from Black Lung. My dad was 15 when my grandfather died. During the last three years of my grandfather’s life, he told my dad over and over, “You do better.” My dad became a mine operator. He got medical and vision care. Why? Because of the lives that were lost in 1920.”

“In 1920, you had to come to Matewan by train and if you didn’t have a white flag, they’d take you in for questioning… “Where the miners lived then was called Tent City. They’d dig 6 to 10 feet underground to hide the children because there was the Bull Moose Special, the coal company’s armored train that would come through shooting, at any hour of the day and night. You never knew when… The least I can do as a business owner, as someone who loves this community, is keep their story told.”

Donna May was solidly committed to teaching Matewan’s history to local students. After having read Luke 18 for one of our textual reflections earlier this week, several of us agreed that Donna May was the “Persistent Widow” who returned repeatedly to the judge of injustice pleading, “Grant me justice against my adversary.” I think we’ll each carry a bit of Donna May’s persistence with us.

Photos from the trip

By Alix Webb

Tallu Schuyler and Paul Thorson cook for the group. This is a beautiful, warm meal featuring enchiladas, black bean and corn salad, guacamole and brownies!

Candy Adams (testifler at Spring 2007 Poverty Initiative Truth Commission at UTS) leads the group on a driving tour of her home, Chestnut Ridge in Philippi, WV. (Candy with Derrick McQueen and Alix Webb) (Jan 5)

Participants on bridge overlooking Chestut Hill creek. (Jan 5)

Charleston, WV, John XXIII Catholic Retreat Center, Participants take part in Theological Reflection Session on the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi. (Jan 7)

Rev. Dennis Sparks of the West Virginia Council of Churches and Rick Wilson from the American Friends Service Committee talk to the group about West Virginia. (Jan 7)

Ruth’s Story Is Our Story

By Lauren Green

As one of our group members was reflecting on our study of the story of Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz, in connection to current situations in our lives, and in our world, she mentioned women in her family that she could think of that made sacrifices to ensure the survival of their family. This made me think of my own mother, and also step-father.

My mother gave birth to me without the support of my father, and made a very conscious choice to raise me as a single mother. In addition, she is a disabled woman who only has the use of one arm, so this only adds to the complication. My mother sacrificed day in and out, working in a job that was mentally abusive to try and put food on our table, a roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs. However, financially it was not enough, so she was forced to use credit cards to provide for us, causing her to be in significant debt. And though she had the financial resource of credit cards, it was a way that continued to keep us in poverty. My mother was wise like Naomi, in that she knew ways to subvert the system to get what we needed, and she was also like Ruth, in that she was willing to sacrifice herself to make a better life for her family.

And then Boaz came into our lives—he was known to us as Donald. He is a caring man, who, though he did not have the power and money that Boaz did, he was willing to give of himself to make a better life for his family, including my mother and I. He showed his love for us by caring and providing for us through struggles, like Boaz did with Ruth and Naomi.

Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz, stood in solidarity with each other to organize a way to provide for their needs, just as families in our country, including my own, continue this tradition each day. A saying exists among our group, “You only get what you are organized to take”, and I think this saying epitomizes this Biblical story, as well as stories of poor families everywhere—by organizing and standing in solidarity with each other, everyone’s humans rights will be met.

Sunday January 6, 2008

By Derrick McQueen

Chestnut Ridge.

There is much that I could say as an “outside observer” about Chestnut Ridge outside of Philippi, West Virginia. I talk about the beauty of the rolling hills, even on a rainy winter day. I could talk about the generations of families buried on either side of the road that tell the story of this ancestral homeland. I could also talk about the five or so churches all within a five mile loop of one another. Some of these churches have no more than five or six members but will welcome anyone in for worship. I could say how their mere existence is homage to the phrase “build it and they will come” or the biblical quote “where ever two or three are gathered together, there also am I”. Yes there is much that I could say when I think about Chestnut Ridge. But what does a romanticized account of an Appalachian community do to end poverty? No, I’d rather speak of the people of Chestnut Ridge.

Three groups of people settled up on “The Ridge”. They were whites, blacks and indians. The details of the settling are yet to be qualified as historically accurate. There is an outsider perspective that I consider one of those romantic notions of figuring out historical legacies. Once upon a time . . . . a hardy bunch of Scotch-Irish settled on the Ridge and built a community. Next a group of Native American Indians settled on the mountainside-Chestnut Ridge, in what would become Barbour County in West Virginia. They are said to have settled here when the American government forced them off of their lands. Pre-Civil War the Ridge was supposed to have been a haven for runaway slaves, African Americans. These three groups of people came together to and now there is a group of tri-racial people that have existed for generations on “The Ridge”.

I consider this the idealized, American version of rugged individualists retreating to the hills to form a unique and solitary community in West Virginia. An insider perspective, from oral history traditions differs from this one. A woman from The Ridge is of the understanding that these groups of people found themselves in community. As a matter of fact, a White settle came up and fell in love with a Native American Woman, they married and had children. This was the start of this multicultural community up on the Ridge.

However the dust settles and the history of the Ridge resolves itself there is a much more important event that has taken place. Up on the Ridge there were three groups of people that found a way to bind themselves to one another despite the societal roadblocks against race mixing. And since they were often criticized and discriminated against by the community folk in the valley of Philippi, they found a way to survive and overcome. This community has existed for hundreds of years. There is a graveyard of two major families that still exist across the road from one another. The homesteads include homes that are still passed down from generation to generation. The unique makeup of tri-racial family identity is still held as a source of pride and joy.

The key word for me is “still”. There are some we have made this journey with on this immersion tour that have spoken almost wistfully of the connections that exist up on the Ridge. The familial connections that we have sacrificed in American society for the sake of the American dream, the nuclear family. A nostalgia has been expressed for the notion of extended families that seem to ground people during times of plenty and want. As a web of relationship, I think the phenomenon of extended family is a natural one and has been thwarted by our economic system.

We have come to explore ways to build a movement led by the poor to end poverty; to raise a group of religious and community leaders to make this happen. This idea of the web of relationship as a foundational reality is key to ending poverty. It is this foundational reality that is systematically attacked by a system that needs people in poverty to exist. I hope in our relationship building we never take our sights off of the attack on the importance of extended relationships. In many of our organizational circles we call this networking, coalition building. I suggest we learn how to model these ideas after the family community of the Ridge and that we get back to the language of relationships.

Our job is to build the idea of familial relationships amongst those of us fighting to end poverty. We keep looking for common ground in the groups with which we work. I don’t think we need to look. We find ourselves together, needing to survive, as one family just like the Ridge.

Friday January 4, 2008

By Derrick McQueen

Outside funding to pay a living wage for professionals to alleviate the suffering of those who live in poverty. I keep wondering if the salaries and programming fees from the community center aide to the government official who signs off on the request for proposals (RFP) are really worth the end result. I spent sometime today at an organization that is representative of a $2.8 million budget. With 48 employees, warehouses, plans for expansion I have yet to hear a population breakdown of people served. My interest is not just to find fault in programming but it makes me wonder where relationship falls into the work to aid people. I heard a phrase today that made me shiver. A program was described today as an antidote to a communities “moral decay”. I shivered because from my personal perspective, it means that the foundational philosophy of the program starts from a point of negative judgment that will be hard to overcome as a stereotype. The condescension implied by that phrase truly leaves no room to build a relationship of respect between organization and community member. I keep thinking, maybe that phrase (and others like it) are tossed about because we are perceived as outsiders ourselves. We are put into the category “colleague” which gives us an intimacy that is not even afforded the community members served.

How much is this fact finding for us, as opposed to our being able to speak up in disagreement when things just don’t quite sit right with us? Where is the permission to voice our concern? If we don’t do it on site and just save for reflection is that disingenuous? I keep thinking how I would feel if these groups came to visit me in my former job as a social worker, working in an at risk community. (My philosophy is that all are at risk because of the What would student. vs. management say in breakdown and processing of such a visit? I think R.A. would do his typical run to the street away from us after feeling as if he’d been looked “at”. C.M. would feel as if our program had reached another level of importance, also distancing us from R.A. and our other community members.

I think maybe that is the vision of Willie Baptist and the Poverty Initiative’s Poverty Scholar’s program. It helps to build that bridge between the program and the people. The other thing that is amazing thing is that it reconciles the two parts of those of us who have lived on both sides of poverty and service.

Welcome to the Train the Trainer Immersion

On January 3-11, 2008 students from seminaries, colleges, universities, religious congregations and community organizations from across the country, along with members of the Poverty Initiative’s Poverty Scholars Program and members of the Media Mobilizing Project will learn about the realities of poverty in Appalachia and the work communities are engaged in to end poverty.

Our journey will include discovery, reflection and relationship-building with people living in Appalachia who experience and organize against conditions of poverty. Participants will also engage in reflective discussion about the purpose of immersion courses and the principles of the Poverty Initiative.

Through this online journal reflection posted during our travels we invite the larger community to "travel" with us in the exploration of these very important issues.

The course is being planned through a partnership with the Direct Action Welfare Group. We will visit such groups as World Vision-Appalachia, WV Council of Churches, Ohio Valley Environmental Coalition, and a number of Head Start locations.

Please consider inviting one of the course participants, Poverty Initiative staff and/or a Poverty Scholar to speak to your congregation or class about our experience. Also, please consider donating to the Poverty Initiative to help fund this trip as well as other programs, including another immersion to Mississippi and Tennessee to commemorate the 1968 Poor People’s Campaign. More information can be found at our website: www.povertyinitiative.org.