By Larry Hypes

February 6, 2023 - On February 4, 1957, life was forever altered in the prosperous Bishop, Virginia, coal mining community. In the worst coal mining disaster in nearly a decade, 37 miners were killed in the Pocahontas Fuel Company No. 34 mine. The day was cold, damp and typically would have forecast a higher degree of danger in any underground colliery. Miners understand that winter is the most dangerous time, when deadly gas like methane is most likely to be held closer to the surface than during the warm spring and summer.

Still, Bishop was one of the most prosperous towns around in those days. It was easily the largest employer in Tazewell County and a hub of activity. Because of the high quality bituminous coal stretching underneath the entire area, the present and future seemed bright with promise since the great steel mills of Pittsburgh, Gary, Indiana, and further south in Alabama were all roaring with flames sparked by the great Pocahontas coal seam. America’s towns and cities, its ships, and rail industry, among others, were all built upon a steel foundation and to make that steel, massive amounts of coal were required.

Even the transportation for that Bishop coal was tied to the black gold. Some three years before dieselization finally overcame the Norfolk & Western steam engines, the chugging locomotives rumbling in and out of town were fueled by it and smoke in the hollow meant a train was hauling money to some distant destination.

Bishop itself, a community of about 1,000 residents, was a kind of “twin state” town that spread across the state lines of both West Virginia and Virginia. Miners, estimated to total 600 at peak production, wound down Route 16 in a variety of vehicles from the Tazewell area, through the steep turns of Stoney Ridge while others streamed into the camp from Route 644, traversing Abb’s Valley, Big Auger and the nearby Horsepen Cove community. An equal number approached from McDowell County, coming from War and Squire and a dozen other areas populated almost entirely by miners and their families.

Early winter, especially in late January and on into February, had been ominously wet all over the area. In neighboring Buchanan County, for example, the raging Levisa River had ravaged the Grundy area, virtually shutting it off for days. Closer to home, the Clinch River had also overflowed its banks from Richlands to Tazewell and in Pocahontas, the usually placid Laurel Creek had been high enough to flood the floorboards of passing cars weaving their way through the aptly-named Water Street.

Bishop had a rather unique design with an entry on the Virginia side used by most miners. This shaft was poised above the coal seam on the Horsepen side, within sight of the old rock Daniel store building. Coal was hauled by electric trams and brought into the big metal tipple located in McDowell County, not far from the company store. These two entrances were roughly three miles apart.

Approximately 184 miners reported for the third, or “hoot owl” shift that fateful evening. Unlike some smaller mines, the Bishop operation was running full blast on a virtual six-day week with day, second and third shifts all needed to maintain a heavy production schedule. According to reports, Bishop produced about two million tons annually, most hauled away on the N&W in a seemingly endless string of 50-ton gondolas which often wound their way through Welch, Bluefield, Williamson, Columbus, Roanoke, Norfolk and other rail hubs.

The shift began shortly after midnight. Less than two hours later, a rumble and blast of wind described by some not near the explosion as more like a “puff” of wind, surged through the mine. It happened in an area very near the shaft, where the cage was thrown upward with enough force to keep it lodged high above the ground for a time. Rescue team members, composed mainly of miners, quickly began searching for survivors.

Within an hour, the first bodies had been found and just before darkness fell in the afternoon, all 37 had been recovered in an area less than 900 feet from the entry shaft. It seemed that a lack of oxygen had been the most deadly problem and only the miners working near the explosion area were affected. Officials believed a concentration of gas had ignited although what prompted the blast was not immediately known.

Bishop had been in operation nearly 30 years when the blast happened and within a year, another explosion would take still more lives. Nearby Amonate would also experience a deadly explosion. Older residents thought back almost three decades to the February 1932 explosion at the Poca Fuel Boissevain mine, a 187-deep shaft operation, that had killed 38 miners.

As in all coal mining communities, workers and families live alongside the reality that progress often comes at a price.

Larry Hypes, a teacher at Bluefield High School, is a Daily Telegraph columnist. Contact him at larryhypes52@gmail.com.