The Western Pennsylvania Slovak Cultural Association and NSS Heritage Museum is sponsoring a photo exhibit entitled: "Coal Mines and Patch Towns: Interpreting Slovak-American History in the Northern Appalachian Landscape." The 25 picture exhibit of coalfield scenes in Pennsylvania and Ohio is the work of Chris DellaMea, webmaster of coalcampusa.com. The exhibit can be viewed at the NSS Heritage Museum, 351 Valley Brook Road, McMurray, PA (northern Washington County). Museum hours are 9:00 am until 4:00 pm, Monday through Thursday. It is recommended that you call the museum before visiting - 724-731-0094.
Over 15 billion tons of
coal have been taken from Pennsylvania since mining began around 1760 (near
Pittsburgh). The peak year of production was 1917, when 277 million tons were
extracted. PA was the No. 1 coal mining state in the U.S.A. until West Virginia
surpassed it in 1930. In 1992 Pennsylvania produced only 65 million tons of
coal, but was still the nationwide leader in coke production.
However, this is a presentation of historically significant bituminous coal
mining towns and structures in Western Pennsylvania. We are not touching the
Anthracite coalfields of Eastern Pennsylvania. A coal patch (called "coal camp"
elsewhere) is a town where everything was built and owned by a coal company,
including schools, churches, stores, theatres, and residential structures. Coal
patches in Western Pennsylvania generally date from the 1870s through the 1920s.
Although the coal seams around the patches are mined out and the coke ovens are
crumbling ruins, people still live in these towns in homes built by the coal
companies a century or more ago.
If you would like to visit these mining towns, keep in mind a few things:
1. STAY OFF OF THE PROPERTY OF ACTIVE MINES. THEY ALL HAVE
GUARDS WHO WILL RUN YOU OFF. ALSO, IT'S DANGEROUS, SEEING AS HOW YOU PROBABLY
WON'T BE WEARING A HARDHAT AND METATARSALS.
2. BE CAREFUL OF TRESPASSING. JUST BECAUSE A MINE IS CLOSED DOESN'T MEAN NO
ONE OWNS IT.
3. THE RESIDENTS OF THESE MINING PATCHES MAY NOT APPRECIATE YOUR "INTRUSION."
IF SOMEONE ASKS WHAT YOU ARE DOING, TELL THEM.
4. SOME OF THE RESIDENTS OF THE COAL PATCHES HAVE VICIOUS DOGS.
5. DON'T TALK WITH A TEXAS OR FRENCH ACCENT. IF POSSIBLE, FAKE A PENNSYLVANIA ACCENT.
6. THERE AREN'T MANY RESTAURANTS IN COAL PATCHES. EAT AND GAS UP BEFORE YOU
GO.
7. SOME ROADS ARE UNSUITABLE FOR LUXURY AUTOMOBILES. A FEW ARE UNSUITABLE FOR
ANY AUTOMOBILE.
8. I WOULD STRONGLY DISCOURAGE ANYONE FROM ENTERING AN ABANDONED DEEP MINE.
THE TIMBERS ARE PROBABLY ROTTEN AND THE ROOF WILL PROBABLY FALL ON YOU. IF YOU
SURVIVE YOU WILL PROBABLY BE HANDICAPPED FOR LIFE. JEFF WRITES IN TO SUGGEST ANOTHER REASON
NOT TO ENTER ABANDONED MINES: BLACKDAMP, A DEADLY LOW OXYGEN CONDITION THAT OCCURS WHEN ORGANIC
MATERIAL OXIDIZES IN A RELATIVELY CLOSED CONDITION. THE TIMBERS AND THE REMAINING COAL EAT
UP THE AVAILABLE OXYGEN IN CERTAIN CONDITIONS. BESIDES BEING DANGEROUS, THERE'S PROBABLY NOTHING INTERSETING DOWN THERE.
NOTE: I'VE NEVER HAD ANY OF THESE PROBLEMS (EXCEPT MAYBE THE BAD
ROADS). I'M JUST MENTIONING POSSIBLE PITFALLS.
FADING CULTURE
(This article appeared in the Uniontown Herald-Standard in 2002.)
There were a host of reasons for closing Holy Trinity – a shrinking community, a shortage of priests, the finances – but what Rose Bloser knows is that when the predominately Slovak church closed, a big chunk of her past was lost.
"When everything boils down, all you have left is your roots," said Bloser, 51, whose Roman Catholic church closed its doors several Sundays ago. "I realize we’re all in a melting pot, but you always keep some ties to where you came from."
In the 1800s and 1900s, Eastern European immigrants flooded into southwestern Pennsylvania to work in the coal mines and steel mills, and in and around Pittsburgh, neighborhoods swelled with their numbers.
They brought with them their work ethic, their languages and their religions.
Churches-many of them Catholic-sprung up, statues of patron saints watching over them in the New World, masses being held in their natural tongues.
Now, in Pittsburgh and across the nation, many of those old ethnic churches are gone, and parishioners worry their cultural past could be lost.
In Ford City, located about 35 miles northeast of Pittsburgh, July 21 saw the closing not only of Holy Trinity but two other ethnic parishes: St. Frances of Paola, a predominately Polish church, and St. Mary’s, attended by German families. Church officials said there were too few people to support keeping all three.
A month earlier, St. Stephen’s in McKeesport-which had ministered to Hungarian immigrants for more than a century-shut down. It had gone as far in its early history to import a priest from Hungary to serve Mass; there were 13 oaken statues inside the church, each representing an aspect of Hungarian history and religion.
"I was baptized there, made my first communion there and was confirmed there," said Zoltan Toth. "We are like a family because we all grew up there."
It’s not only in Pittsburgh. Two years ago, St. Jehosaphat’s, a Polish parish in Cleveland, closed. In March, a Roman Catholic church in Gary, Ind., which once drew nearly 1,000 Polish, Czech and Lithuanian parishioners closed after attendance dwindled to about 200 parishioners.
From 1988 to 1995, the Pittsburgh diocese closed 19 ethnic parishes; at the same time, 19 territorial parishes-those serving people within established boundaries-closed because of costs and a declining number of congregants.
As steel mills, coal mines and other businesses hit hard times in the 1980s, people left the older ethnic centers to find work elsewhere. Also, for many people, the immigrant churches carried a connection to the past they felt they no longer needed.
National groups, such as the Polish American Congress and American Hungarian Heritage Association, say neighborhood churches were hurt as congregations got older and people fled the cities for the suburbs.
"That ethnic heritage is not as important to the younger generation," said the Rev. John Rushofosky, who has served at several defunct parishes serving various ethnic groups in the Pittsburgh diocese. He said the loss of those churches left many older members resentful.
"It’s painful for them because I think what it means to them is that a lot of their ethnic heritage seems to be being disregarded," he said.
In Pittsburgh’s Polish Hill neighborhood, Immaculate Heart of Mary still serves the ethnic community, a Mass being said in Polish at 8 a.m. every Sunday. The church school, where Polish was taught, has been closed for years; the Mass attracts only about 50 people-in a church which could easily hold many times that number.
Most of the people who attend are middle aged or older. Olaf Saykiewicz, a 30-year-old Polish immigrant, goes to Immaculate Heart of Mary to keep his traditions alive.
"We’re becoming more integrated, which is good, but at the same time we’re losing our identity," he said.
