December 6, 1907, dawned crisp and clear in the little town of Monongah, West Virginia. The then-limpid West Fork River, tributary of the Monongahela, doggedly pursued its way north, through the bituminous heart of the hilly mining camp on the outskirts of the city of Fairmont.

The mines had not worked the previous day. Some of the men, careful to celebrate the feast of St. Nicholas, had extended their holiday. Others, unable to resist the allure of rabbit tracks in freshly fallen snow, had deferred their return to work. But most of the miners, refreshed by their brief respite, were back on schedule.

Early, as was their wont, from 5:30 to 7:00 o'clock, the multi-lingual men of Monongah-Irish, German, Italian, Greek, Slav, Polish, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish, and American, had trudged with a will down the dark slopes, carrying their oversized lunch pails in one hand, their prodigious shovels dangling from pick-axes thrown over their shoulders. Lamps perched jauntily on their battered caps, these hard-bitten men, some of them scarcely more than boys, were soon lost in the catacombs, seeking the black gold that would keep the hearthstones of America warm during another winter.

Story has it that three men found reason to come to the surface a few hours after they had entered the pits.

One of the three had forgotten to take his tobacco pouch and went to the top to fetch a plug of his favorite brand.

Another man, an American, they say, had quaffed a trifle too heartily at the amber fountain before leaving home. Unnerved by the sudden discovery of a twenty-five cent piece in his pocket, he is reported to have sped out of the mine to expend his meager fortune.

The third miner emerged in order to visit the smithy for repairs to his lamp.

Not long after the trio had reached daylight, the greatest disaster in the history of coal mining in the United States occurred. About 10:30 that tragic Friday morning, twin explosions tore with cyclonic force through two merged mines of the Fairmont Coal Company. The detonation could be heard eight miles away. Buildings in Monongah tottered; pavements heaved; pedestrians, even horses were felled; street cars were derailed, as a pall of soot settled over the town. In the twinkling of an eye, Mine No. 6 and Mine No. 8, located on the west bank of the river, had become a tortuous charnel house.

According to the official account of the incident (History of the Monongah Mines Relief Fund, 19 10), every man in the one-mile square area of both mines, to the number of 358, lost his life in the catastrophe. The only persons, directly affected by the blast who escaped alive, were Joseph Newton and Patrick McDonnell.

Newton, standing about fifty feet from the entrance of Mine No. 8, suffered the loss of his right eye, among other injuries. Mr. McDonnell, who sustained multiple lacerations and contusions, is presently the sole survivor of the holocaust.

Later events, however, proved the official report of the Monongah Mine Disaster inaccurate in several details.

Undoubtedly, more than 358 persons perished in the explosion, inasmuch as in the early, unorganized phase of the coal industry, miners were accustomed to recruit the services of relatives and friends, with whom they shared their wages. This cooperative form of ultra-private enterprise was known as the "buddy system" or the "pal system. "

Since the names of the men who were hired by individual miners did not appear on the Coal Company's roster, the accepted total of those who lost their lives is probably somewhat conservative. Leo L. Malone, the General Manager of the two mines in question was quoted by The Fairmont Times as stating that 478 men had been checked off as entering the mines on the morning of December 6th. This figure, it is said, did not include the 100 trappers, mule drivers, pumpers and other men who were not subject to the check system. A study of the Monongah cemeteries appears to indicate that the actual death toll exceeded 500 victims, although a surviving grave digger insists that the total was 620.

One newspaper report, a Washington dispatch dated March 9 of the following year, set the figure as high as 956 lives lost. If the latter total were even reasonably accurate, the Monongah Mine Disaster was one of the most tragic events of its kind anywhere in the world, being surpassed only by the great mine explosion in China and the catastrophe of March 10, 1906, at the Pas de Calais, France.

On the other hand, according to the official record, there were no survivors. It is, however, a well-known fact that Peter Urban was rescued through a toad hole. Mr. Urban and his twin brother, Stanley, both members of St. Stanislaus Church, had managed somehow to escape the full force of the blast. The two brothers were running toward the exit of Mine No. 8, when Stanley fell facedown in a pool. Owing to his weakened condition, he expired almost immediately.

The widow of one of the victims of the disaster maintains that "an Italian named Dan, and his oldest son, Lloyd, escaped through a toad hole. "

Moreover, The Fairmont Times for Tuesday, December 10, 1907, refers to a certain "Orazio Deptris, who, with three others, escaped death by crawling out of No. 8 through a toad hole. " Many contemporaries, however, insist that Peter Urban was the sole survivor of all the men who had entered the mine proper.

In any event, upwards of 358 miners certainly lost their lives in the tragedy of December 6, 1907.

The vast majority of the victims were Roman Catholics migrated to this country, chiefly from Italy and Poland. The official listing classifies the Polish dead as Austrians, Hungarians and Russians. Technically speaking, this threefold classification is correct, inasmuch as Poland at that time still was partitioned among those three powers. Actually, however, there were few miners of strictly Austrian, Hungarian, or Russian stock among the deceased.

The official tally, moreover, classifies 85 of the victims as native Americans. Of this total, I I are certainly known to have been Catholics of Irish descent, one of Polish extraction, and one of German descent. The remains of the Irish-American were interred in Holy Cross Cemetery in Clarksburg; the two Polish-American and GermanAmerican casualties were buried in Mt. Calvary Cemetery in Monongah.

In the Italian classification, 171 Catholics were known to have succumbed.

In the next classification, detailed in the official record, a note is made of 15 Austrian, 52 Hungarian, and 31 Russian victims. Actually, the great majority of these men were of Polish extraction. Some were of Slavish descent, a few Turkish; very few Russian in origin. Of the total, 73 definitely were Catholics; 10 others very probably were Catholics.

There is a discrepancy of fifteen, between the cemetery records and the official listing of the men in the foregoing group. Fourteen lost graves, housing the remains of Polish victims, were discovered on the fringe of Mt. Calvary Cemetery, adjacent to the so-called "New Cemetery," in August of 1957. This discovery narrowed the actual discrepancy to one.

The explosion of 1907 came like a thunderclap to the quiet town off 3,000 inhabitants.

Tragic scenes were enacted inside and outside the wrecked mines, on the streets, within the homes and churches of this rural community.

Two parties of rescue workers, thirty men each, began the gruesome task of salvaging and identifying the dead.

More than 600 demolished mine cars blocked their way to a distance of 300 feet from the mouth of Mine No. 6.

But by 11:00 A.M. the next day, they had retrieved the remains of 80 entombed miners.

Hundreds of men who had suspended operations in other mines crowded the hills of Monongah. They were joined by thousands of onlookers, some curious, all sympathetic.

In the business section of town, scores of coffins hastily fashioned from unfinished lumber, lined the sidewalks, until they could be transported to the little frame churches for the obsequies.

In Old St. Stanislaus Church, overlooking the West Fork River, coffins choked the aisles as Father Lekston read the Requiem Masses for the repose of the dead miners souls.

Early Tuesday morning, December 10, Bishop Patrick J. Donahue of Wheeling arrived in Monongah. The Bishop assisted at the funeral of 16 persons in St. Stanislaus Church. His Excellency ascertained later that about 80 percent of the dead belonged either to St. Stanislaus Church or the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii.

In the newly-founded Church of Our Lady, Father Joseph D'Andrea read the funeral service over the remains of the Italian dead. His heart was heavy, because so many had died in the pits, among them his own brother Victor.

As fast as the religious rites were performed, the burials of the Monongah Catholics were conducted at Mt. Calvary Cemetery. There, dozens of hard-pressed men were opening long rows of graves, staked out by engineers of the Coal Company, through the heart of the cemetery. The morgue, in the First National Bank of Monongah, was so over-taxed with corpses, that a separate morgue was located in a tent in the Catholic cemetery.

Too dreadful for words was the distress and demoralization of the widows and children of the lost miners. People in Monongah still remember the sad dirge of the immigrant women waiting at the mouth of the mines.

Immediate and magnanimous was the response of the Fairmont Coal Company to the tragic plight of the stricken families.

The mine owners organized relief parties, to which they opened the largess of the company stores - provisions, clothing, fuel and other necessities. The Fairmont Coal Company desisted from its humanitarian endeavor only after various relief organizations had been created to cope with the situation.

On December 14, 1907, it was decided to consolidate the Central Relief Committee of Fairmont and the Monongah Relief Committee.

Unanimously elected to membership on the Monongah Mines Relief Committee were Most Rev. Patrick J. Donahue, Bishop of Wheeling; Father Joseph Lekston, Pastor of St. Stanislaus Church; and the Rev. Joseph D'Andrea, first Pastor of Our Lady of Pompeii Church.

Such was the magnitude of the disaster, that the State of West Virginia, not to mention the Town of Monongah, proved unequal to the emergency.

On December 27, 1907, a nationwide appeal was broadcast through more than 2,000 newspapers on behalf of some 250 widows and 1000 children, suddenly deprived of support by the untimely demise of almost one-half of the bread winners of the community.

Eventually, the sum of approximately $150,000 was raised and disbursed for the relief of the unfortunate bereaved.

As to the cause of the blast, the evidence and opinions of mine experts and witnesses were conflicting.

Some testified at the coroner's inquest that the explosion was owing to "a blownout shot, inflaming the dust." In other words, an extra-heavy charge of powder detonated by an incautious miner may have backfired, igniting the coal dust directly, or exploding a pocket of gas which set the coal dust afire.

Other witnesses opined that a runaway "trip" may have caused a short-circuit in the electric lines, thus exploding the coal dust. This opinion was disclaimed by others, because there was no evidence of flame near the foot of the slope in No. 6 mine.

It was even suspected that the innocent prank of a little "bit boy" may have set the powder afire.

Whatever the agency that triggered the blast, there was general agreement that the explosion originated in No. 8 mine. The exploding powder fired the dust, causing a terrific blast which, in turn, ignited the coal, thus distilling a great quantity of gas.

Half a century has passed since that chill December morning, when the congregation[s] of St. Stanislaus Church and the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii were decimated in the catacombs of Monongah.

Only the two little churches which the deceased attended and the green hill in the shadow of which they now slumber remain to remind one of the calamity that overtook this small mining town astride the West Fork River.

On this, the fiftieth anniversary of America's greatest underground disaster, there is a sense of piercing loneliness in many hearts, when sons and daughters of fathers whom they scarcely knew pass these three shrines, sacred to the memory of their parents.

Through the years, many people have voiced the hope that someday a fitting monument to the memory of the men who died in 1907 might rise on the slopes above the West Fork River.

Such a memorial might take one of several artistic forms, but the Catholic people of Monongah feel that the memorial most suited to enshrine the sacrificial spirit of their ancestors would be a small Rest Home for the aged and infirm survivors of the men who perished in the service of their community.

In this conviction, the Catholics of Monongah are not alone. Many of their fellow townsmen agree that an institution which would benefit posterity would commemorate most aptly the sacrifice of their dead parents and brethren.

This haven for the aged and infirm, to be known as St. Barbara's Memorial Home, after the patron Saint of miners, would be open to all, without regard to religious affiliation.

It would be a non-profit institution, conducted for the community by the Sisters Auxiliaries of the Apostolate, whose Motherhouse overlooks the coal mines of Monongah.

This anniversary celebration and the hope to erect St. Barbara's Memorial Home as a monument to the miners of 1907 are two of several constructive responses to one of the tragic disasters in American industrial history. Needless to say, there have been others.

Apart from our own efforts to memorialize the sacrifice of these pioneer miners, their death already has been commemorated far beyond our power to signalize their sacrifice. A living memorial to these men exists. Hardly had the echoes of the cruel blast died away, when the foundation for a new mine safety movement and for the creation of the U.S. Bureau of Mines was hewn out of the rock of aroused public opinion.

"Something must be done!" was the cry that welled up out of the hearts of people. With that cry came a swelling tide of action. Official Washington took note, and from the efforts of men like Dr. Joseph A. Holmes, Chief of the Technologic Branch of the Geological Survey, and the urgings of President Theodore Roosevelt, Secretary of the Interior James Garfield, and others, came a new dimension in the attack on the hazards of mining, and the start of an epic advance in coal mine safety.

Certainly, the mine blasts were not the work of men or companies, miners nor management, but the product of that age-old antagonist of human progress: the unknown - lack of knowledge - ignorance. The only weapon effective against this enemy was new knowledge, knowledge painstakingly developed through study and experimentation. To insure rapid progress, there had to be dedicated men whose daily thought was the conquest of this unknown.

There had to be a pool of new understanding that could be used to guide practical mining operation and suggest the way to better methods and equipment.

In May 1908, less than six months after the Monongah explosions, Congress authorized the establishment of a station for the investigation of mine explosions. This was placed under Dr. Holmes and his Technologic Branch of the Geological Survey. The following December, this station was opened in Pittsburgh, Pa., in the midst of the great coal fields. In July 1908, Congress appropriated $150,000 for the starting of mine rescue work. Then came the efforts which resulted in the creation of a separate Bureau of Mines, and in 1910, the now famous experimental mine at Bruceton was opened for regular Bureau of Mines testing.

It is not a detraction of the splendid achievements of Dr. Holmes and other safety pioneers to say that their efforts were facilitated by the overwhelming response to what occurred at Monongah.

Man, of course, grows from successful accomplishment. But in our eagerness to applaud the successful results of positive steps, we must never lose sight of the victories which can be ours through failure.

For often it is through failure that we marshal our finest determination and learn the most - for some must be the victims in man's eternal contact with - and growing conquest of - the unknown.

Thousands and thousands of men live today because of the advance in safety achieved in mining and throughout industry ... and because Monongah served, at least in part, as a trigger for this progress.

Thousands and thousands of men who would have died, live and contribute to families and society ... because Monongah touched that very human heart of Americans, and those Americans responded in a manner befitting our finest ideals and traditions.