West Virginians have heard the stories of the coal industry and its history in the region over and over. When we hear the stories of violent labor disputes, poor working and living conditions, devastated communities and an industry in decline we accept it as a tragedy. But it’s not always easy to feel an immediate emotional connection with events from so long ago, even as they continue to influence culture and policy today.
When you can actually see it, though, it’s a different story.
Last week, while in Washington, D.C., I ducked out of the hammering rain that was part of tropical storm Debby into the National Archives to take a look at the exhibit called “Power & Light: Russell Lee’s Coal Survey.â€
The coal survey was conducted by U.S. Navy personnel in 1946 at the behest of President Harry Truman as part of an agreement to end a United Mine Workers of America strike. Frequent labor disputes had disrupted production and shipping of what was then the nation’s most important resource for generating power. It was meant to take stock of living and working conditions in coal communities.
Lee’s photographs certainly highlight deplorable conditions, although they also captured a community spirit of toughness and togetherness that has always been associated with Appalachia.
Almost all of the 200 photographs on display come from Southern West Virginia — McDowell and Wyoming counties especially — and Eastern Kentucky.
One photo shows women in McDowell County dumping refuse into an open sewer that runs between the rows of houses in a Gilliam coal camp community, with wooden planks spanning the two sides should someone need to cross. An exhibit plaque next to the photo notes that few coal camp houses had running water unless the family living there installed it themselves and at no cost to the coal company.
It’s one thing to know that indoor plumbing and sewer services didn’t reach more rural parts of the United States as quickly as higher-populated areas, but it’s another to see people in 1946 using a waste disposal system that might only be slightly better than those used during the Roman Empire.
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Another shows a woman in Bell, Kentucky, getting water for washing from a contaminated creek that contained dead animals. Shoes are a rare sight on children. The houses, many rented from the coal company, are ramshackle habitats.
The photos of miners on the job are about what you’d expect. Most of the men are stoic and covered head to toe in coal dust. There’s an occasional hint of a grin.
I was particularly taken aback by a photo showing a miner lying in a bed with a hot water bottle on his chest as a supposed alleviation for black lung. It’s reminiscent of a Medieval barber applying leeches to even out the humors of a patient with epilepsy.
Not everything in the exhibit was soul-crushing. Plenty of photos show families enjoying community life, and many feature Black and white miners and their families spending time together. Of course, segregation was a part of life in the coal communities. White and Black miners and their families lived in different neighborhoods and went to different social events and churches. (That last one might’ve been a good thing, as one of Lee’s photos shows white church-goers in Harlan County, Kentucky, handling snakes). Still, the images seemed to convey a general sense among everyone that they were in it together. Whites and Blacks are seen together in many photographs of union meetings.
The exhibit also provided some context familiar to many West Virginians but not, perhaps, the rest of the nation. It mentions that Welch, in McDowell County, had a population of 100,000 during coal’s height, but now is home to less than 2,000 people. The exhibit also highlights the decline of miner employment, which dropped sharply in the 1980s with the introduction of advanced machinery, mountaintop removal and strip mining.
The whole thing was eye opening. We know miners have always had to fight for every right they’re granted. We know that, in the past, they and their families lived and worked in awful conditions, serving a system very few could escape while powering the nation and enriching exploitative coal barons. But seeing is believing.
The exhibit featuring Lee’s photos will be at the National Archives until July 6, 2025. I urge you to check it out, if you get the chance.
