The headline: "Death's Awful Harvest at Winter Quarters" - Deseret News, May 2, 1900.
Shock waves of horror and grief fanned out from the Winter Quarters coal mine in Carbon County as the full impact of a May 1, 1900, underground explosion hit the small community. It was the most lethal mine accident ever in Utah and, at that time, in the United States.
Of the 310 workers in the mine when exploding coal dust sent deadly fumes circulating through two connected tunnels, 200 died. The death record stood until a Dec. 19, 1907, explosion in a Jacobs Creek, Pa. mine, which took the lives of 239 workers.
Many of the Utah men had started the day in jubilant anticipation of a "Dewey Day" celebration that night in the Odd Fellows Hall. The party would honor Admiral Dewey's 1898 defeat of the Spanish Navy in the Battle of Manila.
At 10:28 a.m., the No. 4 mineshaft exploded, and some townsfolk thought the noise was fireworks being set off by someone speeding up the celebration. They learned to their dismay that what they had heard was the manifestation of a tragedy of mammoth proportions.
Many workers in the No. 4 shaft died in the explosion, and as poisonous fumes spread, others in both the No. 4 and No. 1 shafts succumbed to the blast's silent but deadly aftermath.
The force of the explosion threw John Wilson, a driver standing at the opening of the tunnel, 820 feet. He ended up lying against a tree.
News of the tragedy spread across the state. "Death's winding sheet seems to envelop Scofield this morning. Every house, without exception, is a house of mourning, and every household is preparing to receive its dead," the Deseret News reported.
Hundreds of volunteers, braving lingering deadly gases or "damp" created by the explosion, searched first for survivors, and when few were found, began the grim work of retrieving the dead.
Among the first party of rescuers was young Walter Clark. He was a mine employee but had been working outside when the explosion ripped through the underground mine. With others, he rushed to the mouth of the tunnel, fearful for the lives of his father and brother. The youth dashed recklessly into the tunnel, only to be "enveloped by the lurking damp." He was dead before others could reach him, bringing the Clark family toll to three. But the total rose again when Walter's "beautiful 16-year-old sister, Lizzie," on being informed of his death, dropped dead at her mother's feet of shock.
Many of the miners were primarily farmers who shoveled coal to supplement their income. The number of married men in the Winter Quarters mines of Pleasant Valley Coal Co. was unusually high. The mines had earned the nickname of "the married men's camps."
The mourning of widows and orphans filled the streets, the newspaper said. "A procession of them waiting and screaming follows the bodies as they come from the mine, and it seems impossible to quiet them. . . . The whole State of Utah may be truthfully said to be clothed in the mantle of mourning over death's awful harvest among the coal miners at Winter Quarters."
In some homes, every male member was dead. Robert Hunter died with three sons and four nephews. John Muir perished with his two sons and his son-in-law, G. Bjornson, at his side, leaving two widows to mourn. John James was found in the mine with his son clasped tightly in his arms.
Evan Jones assisted in the recovery effort and found his brother, Will, who also was locked in a final desperate grasp for human com-pan-ionship with his work partner, David Padfield. The two victims were still alive when Jones came upon them, but they could only open their eyes briefly, then died.
Four brothers who took turns running a family bar and working in the mines had their number diminished by 75 percent, with only the lucky bartender of the day spared.
W.B. Dougall, a civil engineer and graduate of the Agricultural College in Logan, was 27 years old and had worked in the mine for one day. His transit was found still standing where he left it in a mad, futile dash to get out of the poisonous atmosphere.
At least 20 of the dead were mere boys who worked with their fathers as couplers and trap boys.
Last to leave the tunnel when night closed down recovery operations was mine superintendent W.G. Sharp.
"As he came down the hill attired in rough miner's suit, his face blackened with coal dust and his eyes almost starting from their sockets, his every move told of the terrible ordeal he had gone through while working with the rescuing parties underground. Nearly all the bodies he found were those of men personally known to him, and his voice trembled as he described what he had seen," the News reporter said.
For two days, the families of Clear Creek and Scofield counted the dead. Bodies were taken to the local LDS meetinghouse or the com-pany boarding house to be identified and made as presentable as possible. Then they went to the local schoolhouse to be claimed by family members.
The supply of caskets in the small communities was quickly depleted, and more were ordered from Salt Lake City and Denver.
On May 5, two huge funerals were held in Scofield, one a Lutheran rite for 61 Finns killed in the mine and a second for the LDS miners who had shared their fate. Other individual miners were buried in their home towns across the state.
Help was organized immediately, and Utah's sympathetic communities began to pour what resources they could into the afflicted area. Provo had raised $5,000 before the bodies were all out of the mine, and the Salt Lake Council set up a committee to see what was needed in the Carbon towns and to raise funds to ease the tragedy. The Armour meat company sent two beefs, 400 pounds of bacon, 300 pounds of ham and assorted canned goods to help bereaved families.
Although there was some bitter talk of inadequate safety measures at the mine, state inspectors cleared the company of any blame in the accident. Inspectors had given the mine a clean bill of health only weeks earlier. Utah mines in that period, in fact, had an enviable safety record compared with others in the country, the Deseret News said.
The cause of the blast was never determined, although there was speculation that the Finnish miners, who were anxious to make a good showing, may have taken "gaint powder" into the tunnel to rip out bigger chunks of coal.
The Pleasant Valley mines in Scofield continued to operate until 1923, then along with some other mining communities in Emery and Carbon counties, the town withered away to "ghost" status.