A full century has passed since an explosion ripped through the Winter Quarters coal mine above Scofield on May 1, 1900, killing at least 200 men and boys, but still the story of that horrific event — Utah's deadliest disaster — reaches across the years to touch our hearts.
You can't hear about it, read about it, think about it and not be touched, not feel the emotion, say Woody and Ann Carter.
The Carters, two of the 28 people who now live in Scofield year-round, have become deeply involved with the tragedy this year. And, they say, it's a story we should not forget.
Time and weather, though, have been taking their toll. The bustle of industry has been replaced by whispers in the wind.
Winter Quarters is no more. Scofield is a shadow of its former self. Monuments have been erected to the long-ago victims; the original wooden cemetery markers in the Scofield cemetery have weathered and faded and cracked.
"About 125-130 of the victims were buried here," explains Woody Carter.
Row upon row of the markers, identical except for name, filled one section of the cemetery. Over the years, some of them have been replaced by granite markers, but about 50 of the wooden ones remain. Many of those belonged to the Finnish men, who had no families in the area to replace or maintain them, and many are in very poor condition; some have even been lost.
In honor of the 100th anniversary, the Carters wondered, wouldn't it be nice to put up new markers for these forgotten folks?
"The project has just ballooned since then," says Woody Carter. "We called the Utah Historical Society to see if they were interested, and they jumped on it. The Finnish community has stepped in; so many other people have come forth and wanted to be involved."
The culmination of these efforts will be a Day of Commemoration in Scofield on Monday, May 1, with the markers (they won't really replace the old ones, but put the new ones next to the old) in place and daylong activities that will honor the history, ethnic diversity and legacy of Winter Quarters.
In the disaster's aftermath, the survivors, much to their surprise, found that life moved on. And in the years since the tragedy, the children, grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren of the victims have scattered around the nation.
Still, the Carters expect between 700 and 1,000 people to attend Monday's ceremonies.
"In the beginning, we focused on the descendants and tried to track down as many as we could," says Ann Carter.
And some of those will be coming from places such as Arizona, Nevada, Minnesota, Massachusetts and West Virginia. "It's amazing how they've spread. Of course, we haven't found them all."
But they have been able to connect some members of families who didn't know they were related, and that's been very rewarding, says Woody Carter.
And, they say, interest has come from a lot of different sectors. "We started out hoping for maybe 300, but as we hear from more people, we keep revising upward."
As part of the project, the Carters have tried to track down and verify the burial place of every one of the victims.
Just coming up with a list has been a challenge. Although the official number was listed at 200, "at last count, we have 228 names," says Ann Carter. "But we're not totally comfortable with that. We think the total count is closer to 218-220."
The Finnish names have given them the headaches, they say. "They're spelled so many different ways on different lists, it's sometimes hard to tell if it's the same person or not."
So far, they've tracked most of the burials in-state: those in Salt Lake and Ogden, a number in Sanpete and Utah counties. And even some out of state. They've verified four in Colorado and have people checking others there as well as those they know were sent to Ohio and Illinois.
"And we still have five that are known only to God; there's no indication of where they are buried."
Ann Carter grew up in Scofield. And, although none of her ancestors were involved — her grandparents on one side of the family came just after the explosion, and the ones on the other side moved to Cleveland before it happened — she grew up hearing the story.
She eventually left and moved to Seattle, where she met Woody Carter and where they lived until they decided to retire and move back to her family home and open a B&B to accommodate some of the summer visitors to nearby Scofield Reservoir.
Moving back was something of a cultural shock, they say; times had changed in the little town.
Mining continued in Winter Quarters until the 1920s. The Pleasant Valley Coal Co. eventually sold out to two brothers, but the economy and the market for coal had changed, and the mining was no longer viable.
The brothers sold off everything that was usable for salvage, so nothing remains of the mine today but the underground tunnels, carefully closed up so no one can enter.
Two working mines still operate in the area — coming to the coal deposits from the other side of the mountain. Coal trains still run through town; most of it, says Woody Carter, is shipped off to Asia. For most of the country, natural gas is a cleaner, cheaper heating option. "We still burn coal," he says. "But some of the houses have gone to propane. We don't get natural gas here."
Mining today is more mechanized. "People still think of the old picks and shovels, but just like Model-T cars, mining has seen the same changes," says Woody Carter.
And it's safer. "Mining is actually one of the safest industries there is. If you consider number of hours lost from injury, it's extremely low."
Woody Carter works as a consultant at one of the current mines, and it just celebrated 250,000 man-hours without injury.
A lot of today's safety measures come from what they learned in disasters such as Winter Quarters, says Woody Carter. "They did learn, and they did improve conditions."
If you drive up the canyon now, it is hard to imagine that a town ever existed here. You can see the rock foundations from scattered homes, cement bases from a few other structures — a power plant, a tipple that deposited coal in the rail cars, the ragged walls that remain from the company store. You can see the flat grades where rail lines ran. But still, in the narrow canyon, it's hard to imagine a town of 125 houses, a school, a store, a hospital and all.
Some logging operations still take place there, so the road has been maintained, but it is all private land now.
In today's peaceful setting, where butterflies flit among the pine trees, it is hard to imagine the horror that played out so long ago.
But, says Ann Carter, the people who lived and died here should not be forgotten. She hopes people who come to the Day of Commemoration will take away an appreciation of what those early miners had to endure and of what we have because of their sacrifices.
She hopes descendants of those miners will have a better appreciation of what their ancestors lived through. But she hopes everyone will feel a connection to the past, to what came before.
As one of the monuments in town notes, "coal mining has never been an occupation for the weak of constitution."
The people of Scofield and Winter Quarters were poor, humble folks, say the Carters. But they did what they had to do.
You can reach Carma Wadley by e-mail at carma@desnews.com