Tag Archives: Mallory Coal Company

Recollections of McKinley Grimmett of Bruno, WV 4 (1984)

07 Friday Sep 2018

Posted by in Coal, Hatfield-McCoy Feud, Italian American History, World War I, Wyoming County

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McKinley Grimmett was born on November 30, 1896 to Henderson and Nancy (Hatfield) Grimmett at Sand Lick, Logan County, WV. On May 14, 1916, Mr. Grimmett married a Ms. Plymale, who soon died, in Logan County. One child named Alva died on June 21, 1919 of whooping cough, aged fourteen months. His World War I draft registration card dated September 12, 1918 identifies him as having blue eyes and light-colored hair. He was employed by Mallory Coal Company at Mallory, WV. On November 13, 1919, he married Matilda “Tilda” Hatfield, daughter of Thomas Hatfield, in Logan County. He identified himself as a farmer in both of his marriage records. During the 1920s, he served as a deputy under Sheriff Tennis Hatfield.

The following interview of Mr. Grimmett was conducted at his home on July 17, 1984. In this part of the interview, he recalls his occupations. The post-World War I flu pandemic, early Bruno residents, timbering, the Hatfields, politics, and crime are featured.

***

Do you remember the flu that came along after World War I?

Oh yeah, I’ve seen ‘em up here in my graveyard bury as high as three or four in one day. Buried a man and his wife and kid all in one day there. It was bad. I was running a drum at Mallory for the company. I went there well that morning and at 10 o’clock they hauled me back in a jo-wagon. I couldn’t walk with the flu. I was down for four days and the mine didn’t run. I got over it awful quick. The doctor come… Dr. Shrewsbury, used to be at Mallory. Next day was Saturday and Sunday and he told me to stay off for Monday. And he said he’d send after me. Come and get me, bring me back in the evening. All he wanted me to do was run the drum. Not get hot or anything. I got over mine. My sister come there to see me. She had seven kids. She come there and took it. And all her kids come to see her and they all took it. And her husband come to see about them and he took it. And her husband couldn’t talk plain. Keenan Walls was her husband. He called onions “inghams.” My mother would say, Keenan, what do you want to eat today? They fried them. She’d fry them onions. He said, I don’t know hardly unless you fry me some more inghams. Yeah, they’s about 250 graves in that graveyard of mine.

Tape stops.

There’s a lot of people up this creek. Used to be there wasn’t about six families when I was a boy growing up. Wyatt Belcher lived down below the mouth of the creek. And Burl Christian lived up here a little ways. And Watt Elkins lived over there. And my daddy lived next. And my daddy’s brother Harve Grimmett lived next. Phil Elkins lived next. Now in the head of the creek where this backland was, that was before McDonalds got a hold of it. They lived on it, built log houses and everything else. I couldn’t tell you who all… Mountses there. I made several caskets. I made my mother’s coffin. I bought my daddy a steel coffin and I had to take some straw out of it. He was a pretty good sized man like myself. They both had the flu. And she had a lot of chickens here. I lived up at the old homeplace and they lived here. She wanted to know where that straw come from. I told her the truth about it. I told her I had to take it out of Daddy’s casket. It was a little too tight on him and I wouldn’t put him away that way. And said, Kin—she called me Kin, my nickname—said, whenever I die I want you to make my casket. She’d seen me make so many, you know. She wanted me to do that. And so I made it. I went to Logan and I bought the handles. It cost me $105 dollars. Looked like silver. And I bought plush stuff and lined it and everything. And I went down here to this planing mill and I bought the first class lumber. Didn’t have a knot in it. Logan Lumber Company run it then. And I made it. Oh, I’ve made oodles of ‘em. I made the old man Joe Browning’s in Spice Creek up here one time… And he’d sawed beech lumber now for me to make that casket out of. And old man Scott Browning, I got him to help me. And I bet you he weighed about 300 pound. And that beech lumber was 22 inches wide and I still had to put a slab on each side up at his hips down about four inches wide on each side. They couldn’t get enough men around that to lift it. I don’t see how they ever got it down in the grave. I didn’t go to the grave with ‘em. I made the casket and that was all.

Would you rather work with timber or coal?

Well, it’s according to what kind you do with lumber. I believe I would rather work in the mines because I’ve always had a good job in the mines. I worked 44 years and two months around the mines and I never was laid off. Born and raised here in Logan County. Never been in jail. Never been arrested. Never been sued. I never bothered nobody’s business only my own. I’ve been honest with everybody.

Were you ever politically active?

Yeah, I was, whenever them Hatfields was in there. They’d make you, whether you wanted to or not. Tennis and Joe and all of them. You get in that bunch of Hatfields at that day and time you couldn’t get away from ‘em. They’d claim me as their cousin all the time, ‘cause I was half-Hatfield myself. I don’t reckon my mother was any relation to any of them. She didn’t know nothing about them. She was from Wyoming County up on Big Cub Creek, you know. Now she heard lots of talk about Devil Anse and Cap and all of them. She was afraid for me to be with them all the time.

Did you like politics?

Yeah, I liked it pretty good.

Did you ever run for office?

Yeah, I run for JP one time. ’52. Bill Mosely run against me. And I beat Bill over here at his office precinct but he beat me up at Buffalo. Yeah, I run for JP one time. I never did run any more.

Who has impressed you the most in politics?

I reckon Tennis has been the one. Now Joe is a man that was still kind of sulky like. He didn’t seem like that he appreciated what you’d done or something like that. Either that or he thought hisself a little bit higher than you was. Something like that. I don’t know. I couldn’t figure him out. But Cap now, he’d cuss them out and everything else.

Do you remember the ’32 election?

Oh yeah. I remember. Why, coal companies, they went in with the Democrats and they fired us off of the deputy force. The coal companies put us on as guards. And we stayed that way for about three months. And Democrats come in and they cut that law out. And we went on back to work and that didn’t change nothing. I tell you, it was a sight whenever Chafin was in there. Lord, they killed people and everything. Up Buffalo at Accoville, they was building a railroad up through there. Well, that day and time they built camps for their men to stay in and they rode horses, the bosses did, ride him right out on the job. And they’d get up in the morning, Elech Steven and Elech R. Luster was the two bosses—one was superintendent, one was boss—and they’d go around, one had a ball bat and a hole drilled through it and a strap of leather in it and it was a small ball bat now and if them colored people or hunkies and Italians wasn’t up they’d knock the window lights out and then nail the window up instead of buying them a window and putting it back in. And they killed them two, the hunkies and Italians. They come out on ‘em and shot ‘em both and killed ‘em. About eight of them. Well, they killed three of ‘em before they got out of sight, the Americans did, up Accoville Hollow there. And the rest of ‘em come through and they shot one right over the Huff Knob and he rolled plumb from the top of that ridge down just like a dog bouncin’ plumb into the river. That made four of ‘em they got. Then they got two more up here on Elk Creek. Then they got two more up at Spice. Made the eight. Well, they killed them all. And they brought them—I was up there at the store at Elk Creek whenever they brought them two Italians down there… Now, this old raw bacon. Slabs that come that wide and be that long, grease would be running out. And they would cut them off raw meat and throw it to them like throwing it to a dog and they’d eat it.

NOTE: Some names may be transcribed incorrectly.

Recollections of McKinley Grimmett of Bruno, WV 3 (1984)

06 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by in Coal, Hatfield-McCoy Feud, Logan, Timber, World War I

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McKinley Grimmett was born on November 30, 1896 to Henderson and Nancy (Hatfield) Grimmett at Sand Lick, Logan County, WV. On May 14, 1916, Mr. Grimmett married a Ms. Plymale, who soon died, in Logan County. One child named Alva died on June 21, 1919 of whooping cough, aged fourteen months. His World War I draft registration card dated September 12, 1918 identifies him as having blue eyes and light-colored hair. He was employed by Mallory Coal Company at Mallory, WV. On November 13, 1919, he married Matilda “Tilda” Hatfield, daughter of Thomas Hatfield, in Logan County. He identified himself as a farmer in both of his marriage records. During the 1920s, he served as a deputy under Sheriff Tennis Hatfield.

The following interview of Mr. Grimmett was conducted at his home on July 17, 1984. In this part of the interview, he recalls his occupations. Tennis Hatfield, Cap Hatfield, Joe Hatfield, Willis Hatfield, pushboats, Logan, World War I, coal, and blacksmithing are featured.

***

What about Tennis and Joe Hatfield?

But now they come out, they paid all their debts and everything and stuff like that. They was honest, as far as I know. I think both of ‘em went broke, they was so good to the people. They had all kinds of things… Tennis had a five thousand dollar ring and he pawned it to the First National Bank and somebody got the ring. I don’t know who did. Tennis didn’t get it back. They both lost everything they had. And not just only them. Osey Richey, he was assessor and J.G. Hunter was assessor, and they lost all they had. People just, after they got elected and everything, thought that they had to furnish ‘em whether they had it or whether they didn’t.

Tennis and Joe were too young to participate in the Hatfield-McCoy Feud.

Oh yeah. That happened before I got big enough, Cap and them. Cap was chief deputy, though, while I was on. I can remember some of it. Just hear-says. I don’t know nothing about it. Ellison Toler was related to them someway and he stayed at my daddy’s and they kept him up for killing somebody over there at Welch and they hung him there at Welch yard on a tree. I remember getting into my daddy’s papers and reading the letters after I was just learning in school about such stuff like that. And I thought that was the awfulest thing ever was, writing to him and telling about it.

What changed in the county for the Hatfields between the feud and the 1920s?

Mostly, they died out to tell you the truth. Joe and Tennis died out and nobody else had guts enough to take it, you see? Now, Willis, he was the youngest brother. Elba, now he was JP and after he got out as JP he pulled out and went to California. And Willis, he died here about a year ago up on Rum Creek. And Tennis and Joe both died. And that was all of ‘em. All of the old people. Harvey Howes married their sister, and they’re all dead.

Did you ever talk to Cap or Willis?

Oh yeah. Willis, they’d hang after me all the time. They knowed I was half-Hatfield, you know. Tennis and Joe would, too. They was awful good to me ever way. Now Cap, I never – Cap just had one word for a person. If he wanted to talk with you, he’d say, well let’s talk a while, and if he didn’t, he’d say, get the hell away from here. That was the way Cap was. Devil Anse, he used to kill a beef and roast it every Christmas, you know. I’ve went there and eat with him a lot. They tell me they wouldn’t know that place now. They’ve cleaned the graveyard up, you know. I ain’t been up there in… Be five years in January since I got down and I ain’t been away … Only one takes me anyplace is my daughter Edith and Ralph and Edith’s working all the time and Ralph’s all the time busy and Ralph takes me to the doctor every month and Edith took me to the store back and forth and Ralph took me last Saturday.

How has Downtown Logan changed since you were young?

Oh, it’s changed a big lot. Built more buildings in it and everything. Used to be you had about three or four policeman and that was it. Now I can remember back whenever they had a wooden courthouse. A boxed building. I was just a big boy then. Daddy followed rafting and pushboating. You know what pushboating is? Well, they had a big long boat. He had two. And one of ‘em was about eight feet wide and about 46 feet long. Other one was about twelve feet wide. And they had to catch water to get that big boat. And sixteen foot wide. And they’d take a pair of mules or horses, whichever they had, and they’d go to Logan and buy groceries. He had a store and he boated most of his stuff. They’d kill hogs and take chickens and catch fish and take it down to Logan and sell it and they’d bring groceries back.

And they’d make these trips how often?

He went every week. It would take two days to make it, very best. You had from daylight to dark.

Tell me more about your work history.

Well I was a blacksmith. Worked in electric force. They knew I was going to fire. Harvey Ferguson was superintendent. Johnny Davis was general manager. They knowed how old I was. They knowed I was going to retire. I left Christian over here. They shut down. Johnny Davis offered me a job and offered me a job and I wouldn’t take it. I met him right at the foot of the hill. He was a boss over some Elk Creek mine. Well, I went and worked about six months lacking two days for Burl Stotts over there in Campbell’s Creek, built a tipple he fell off of and got killed. I come back and Johnny had come in home that week and Johnny and Harvey Ferguson had been up here and they wanted me to come around there and talk with them on Saturday night. I went around there. They said Johnny said he wanted me to come back up and work for him. I said, well you won’t give me enough. He said, how much you getting? I told him. He said, well I’ll give you three dollars on the day more. I said, well I’ll do it. The rates was 24 dollars. Union then. He give me 27 dollars. I wasn’t getting 24 and going over there and paying board, you know. So I said, well I’ll go back over there and work next week and pay my board up. I wouldn’t walk right off the job from him. He was a good fellow. And he was good to me. And he liked me and everything. And he give me all he could give me. They said they appreciated that, Davis and Harvey Ferguson both. That I’d do a thing like that. So I went back and worked that week and paid my board and come back and went up there and stayed with him fourteen years and retired. In November 30, 1962.

Do you remember anything about your last day?

No, they give me a pair of gloves and Johnny told me that he was going to put a ten dollar gold piece in my envelope. And he did.

What about World War I?

Well I was called… I was drum runner. The superintendent come down in the drum house where I was at. The superintendent said I see you are called for service. I said, Yeah, two more weeks will be my last. You better get somebody in here and let me learn him while I can. He said, we were studying about that. Do you want to go? I said, no I don’t want to go but I guess I’ll have to go. Kaiser was his name. He said, We’ll see what we can do about it. I’ll let you know and I’ll keep you posted at all times. Well, that was on Monday morning, I believe it was. On Saturday evening, I had to work six days a week, Saturday evening he wanted me to come over to his office. That was around on Huff Creek, at Mallory 1. And I went over there. He said, I think I’ve got you retired. He said, We’ve got to have coal men as well as army men. Just don’t say anything about it to none of the boys. You’ll not have to go. And that was all of it. I never did have to go. But I registered five different times for the service. Last time I registered, they took everybody. They didn’t get too old—I registered them all. And the company put me in a little old room beside the store and furnished my eatings for that day paid me for my day’s work and the government never did pay me a cent for none of it. Five different times. Now at first start I had to take them, I had to keep a tally of how many registered, had to take them to Logan and send them out, call in to Washington and tell them how many I registered and everything. Now the last time, I didn’t have to do that. A man come and got ‘em the next day.

Who taught you how to blacksmith?

Oh, I taught myself. My daddy used to shoe horses and I used to help him in the shop. That’s the hardest job ever I got in, shoeing horses or mules. Dangerous job, too. I’ve had them kick me plumb over top of… At that time you had belluses you blow. They’d kick me plumb over top of them belluses. Almost kill me sometimes.

Were there any blacksmith shops around Logan when you were a boy?

Oh yeah. There was plenty of them. There in Logan there was a big one. A fellow named White was the blacksmith down there. Boy, he’d whip a mule. He kept big old hickory poles in there and a mule or horse that didn’t hold still or anything he’d throw its leg down and grab one of them poles—I’ve been in there and watched him—and he’d beat that mule… I swear, I’d be uneasy about it. Think he was going to kill it. It would just quiver like a leaf.

Where was his shop?

Right where the courthouse sits now. There was a wooden courthouse. Box building. Two-story high. And his blacksmith shop was right on down the street. I’d say it wasn’t quite down to the Smoke House. Not quite down that far. Over on the right hand side. It was a big old boxed building and a shed to it. He’d get dirty coal. He was too tight to buy the coal or something. And he’d have enough smoke go all over that town. Yeah, I remember all about that.

NOTE: Some names may be transcribed incorrectly.

Recollections of McKinley Grimmett of Bruno, WV 2 (1984)

03 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by in Battle of Blair Mountain, Coal, Italian American History, Logan, Man

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McKinley Grimmett was born on November 30, 1896 to Henderson and Nancy (Hatfield) Grimmett at Sand Lick, Logan County, WV. On May 14, 1916, Mr. Grimmett married a Ms. Plymale, who soon died, in Logan County. One child named Alva died on June 21, 1919 of whooping cough, aged fourteen months. His World War I draft registration card dated September 12, 1918 identifies him as having blue eyes and light-colored hair. He was employed by Mallory Coal Company at Mallory, WV. On November 13, 1919, he married Matilda “Tilda” Hatfield, daughter of Thomas Hatfield, in Logan County. He identified himself as a farmer in both of his marriage records. During the 1920s, he served as a deputy under Sheriff Tennis Hatfield.

The following interview of Mr. Grimmett was conducted at his home on July 17, 1984. In this part of the interview, he recalls his occupations. Coal, Don Chafin, Tennis Hatfield, unionization, and the Great Depression are featured.

***

Did you ever go to work in the mines?

Oh yeah. I’ve been… That’s what I done over here for 44 years and two months, in and around the mines.

Who hired you?

Yeah, a fellow by the name of Frazier down here at Logan. Superintendent. Not at Logan. Landsville. I stayed there four years, pretty nigh of five years. Then I quit down there and I come to Christian and I stayed up here. A fellow by the name of Harry Venebale hired me over here, the superintendent. And I stayed with him 34 years. Wouldn’t let nobody else hold a lever but me. Drum runner. I’d run as high as 35 railroad cars a day off of that hill. I’ve done it many a day.

Did you do other jobs?

Oh yeah. Days the mines didn’t work I was the carpenter boss. That is, I was overseer over ‘em all. After the union come in, why I wouldn’t take it as a boss. They just run me as a leader, you know. At that time, I’d either have to go in as a boss or get off the union, you know. And I knowed the union was the best for me and I stayed with the union.

Did you have any role in organizing the union?

Oh yeah. I had a big… They wouldn’t let us organize on their property. We had to go across an island over there in the river and have our meeting to organize.

Is it true that local men had the union organized and were waiting for Washington to allow it?

Yeah, that’s about right. We got it. No, they come from Cabin Creek and Kanawha County and Campbell’s Creek over there and tried to organize us. Don Chafin was the high sheriff. He got so much ton per coal and everything. And we couldn’t do a thing because he had every child, woman, and everything else on his side to block us every way. They come to Blair Mountain and had fights. Killed several people, too. Both sides. But I never was in it. I was running a drum and they never did ask me to go. But they paid ‘em. They did go from over there. And went from around here, too. To fight against them, you know. And there was several of them got killed up Dingess Run there. I’ve been at the place where one fellow, sink hole he was in. There was four of them got killed: deputy sheriffs. George Gore and a fellow by the name of Mitchem. I don’t know the other two. I’ve forgot ‘em now. George Gore and Mitchem. But I know where they was at and everything there.

Can you describe Don Chafin?

I’m not too familiar with him now. But he controlled Logan County all the time. Whatever he said, why they had to do or they’d get around you and beat you to death or something like that, throw you in the river, tie your hands behind you – stuff like that.

Were you a Chafin deputy?

I worked for Tennis Hatfield and Joe.

How did Tennis hire you?

Well, Emmett Scaggs run against him. And the County Court was Democratic and they give it all to Emmett. Tennis carried it up to the high court and he won it. About that time, that’s when it was, 1922 I believe it was, last part of 1922, well Emmett, he was a well-educated fellow, he had been the superintendent of schools and everything, he turns around and registers and turned to be a Republican, well then they appointed him prosecuting attorney. You understand? Give him a job. Now the Democrats didn’t do that—Tennis and all of them did. It made a full change around whenever Tennis was elected. The County Court had been Democratic all the time and it turned over, changed hands, and make a Republican County Court. Just like they’ve got now, it’s all Democratic. And a Republican couldn’t get nothing. I’ve seen John Chafin and Hi beat an Italian man. He had two ducks carrying them. Had to wade the river. They fired him over there at Christian. Had to ride horses that day and time. Didn’t have no cars. And they jumped off their horses after they overtook him and they beat him until he couldn’t walk. My dad had a store down at the mouth of the creek and he went and got him and got him up to the store and his ducks got loose. And Mother got the ducks and she raised all kinds of ducks from ‘em. But I haven’t seen that man from that day to this. He’s dead now. But they liked to beat him to death. Now Henry Allen was another one. They barred him from the union. He was a big organizer when it first started. And he got to playing crooked work and they put him out of the union. And he’d done something or other to the party. And they beat him around there at Kistler so hard – the creek was up. Buffalo was a big creek any way. They throwed him up there at Ben Gall’s store in the creek and he washed down there at Kistler and lodged up behind the middle pier at the railroad track. Some men run in and helped him out. I forget who it was. I didn’t see that go off but that’s what happened. Well, he come up here, Henry did, to where I was walking and wanted me to get him a job. Well, I told him I would talk to the boss. A fellow by the name of George Kore. George Kore give him a job working for Tony Lumber Company, helping build houses, you know. He worked about three days and why George fired him and wouldn’t have nothing more to do with him. Henry’s dead now. That’s the last I knowed of him.

Do you remember the names of any early union organizers?

I never did meet ‘em. I tell you they kept me busy all the time as a repair man and drum runner, and days that the mines didn’t run I had to do repair work on the houses and tipples and stuff. Them organizers was, one of ‘em was a fellow by the name of Hall. I’ve seen him but I forget his first name. He had an office over there in Charleston. He was president of the union then. Don Chafin went over there and aimed to tell him what to do and he shot Don. It put Don in the hospital for a long time. After he got out there, Don Chafin and Tennis Hatfield had been in to the Wild Goose business selling bootlegging moonshine whisky up at Hatfield Bottom [in Barnabus]. And they fell out. And Tennis, he goes before the federal grand jury. I forget who the judge was. I knowed him. [George McClintock] And Tennis indicted him and sent him to the pen for four years. But they never did do nothing to Hall for shooting him over there in the miners’ office. But he never did go back in it anymore.

You remember when the mines began to mechanize?

Oh, yeah. I was in there then. I worked up til ’62.

How did the mines change?

Well, they loaded by the car that day and time when they first started. Then they got conveyors in. And they cut the coal and they throwed it on them conveyors by hand. And they built belt-lines from here all across the river, just as far as you wanted to, you know. Had different offsets in it and different motors pulling the belt line. And it come out into a big tipple and dumped into a tipple and then I took it from that. I run it 2100 feet down the incline over there on two monitors on three rails. Now you figure that out. Ten tons to each monitor Now they come up there to the middle way place and they put four rails, you understand? And then one monitor passed the other one at that middle place. All the time. They had a big drum. The drum was twelve foot in diameter and fourteen foot long that way. Built out of gum. Six by six gum. Rope was inch and a quarter.

Was there much bitterness among people when mechanization started?

Oh, no. They was all for it. They was everything was settled. Whatever the union said, they had to do at that time. It was all loaded by the ton by the car. There wasn’t no weighing or nothing like that ‘til they got the union. Then they had to put scales in, you know, and weigh these cars of coal and they had to pay so much a ton. Why, there was people over there at Christian – I never will forget it. Ed Goodman was his name. He’d be broke every week. He’d never load over four or five cars. Just 35 cents a car and a car would hold about four tons, five. And they was starving him to death. He’d come in there on paydays and I’d come in. I was always the last man getting off the hill. He was wanting on dollar scrip. He’d come over and whisper to me and tell me they wouldn’t let him have a one dollar scrip. And I’d vouch for him. Sometimes I’d pull my pay envelope out—they put your money in a pay envelope, you know—and I’ve pull out my pay envelope and give him a dollar and that would do him until Monday. He had a big family. They all weren’t home at that time. He managed. And then when the union come in, they had to treat him the way they did the rest of them.

Did you maintain steady work during the Great Depression?

Yeah. I’ve always had work. I get awful good Social Security. I study all the time – they worked me too much. I actually couldn’t stand it hardly. They’d work me Sunday and every other day. But now I never got no big money at that time. I started off at four dollars a day and I ended up with two hundred and fifty dollars a month. I stayed on that way for 19 years. They wouldn’t give me a raise. I asked ‘em for more money. Miners got a raise, you know. They said no, he couldn’t give it. Was going broke. I said well if you won’t give it I’ll be leaving you first of the month. And he didn’t think I would. Day before I was supposed to quit I sent my toolbox off the hill and everything. They had a man-car there that they rode backwards and forwards that people rode up and down the hill in. That night the man said if I would stay he would split the difference with me. Give me half. Give me twenty-five dollars. I said no I won’t do it. I’ve made you a fortune here. So he wouldn’t come up to fifty dollars and I wouldn’t come off it. Next day they had a wreck. A fella was running… I was sitting here. And they wasn’t no timber around there and I could see the monitors from here. And he wrecked and I never seen such dust in all of my life. And I got in my car and went over there. And they tore one up so bad they had to buy a new one. A monitor. That cost ‘em some money, too.

NOTE: Some names may be transcribed incorrectly.