Disaster in the Hollow

Three days of rain mixed with a runoff of snow had dramatically raised the level of the lake dammed up behind the huge coal-slag heap at the head of Buffalo Creek. It was still raining hard at 5:30 a.m. when Logan County Deputy Sheriff Otto Mutters was awakened by a phone call from another deputy warning him that the slag heap was in danger of giving way. As Mutters remembers, "My gut went tight."

Deep in West Virginia's soft-coal region, where tough miners and their families have lived for decades along the narrow mountain valleys known as hollows, Buffalo Creek Hollow (see map) echoes the contours of the twisting, snakelike stream from which it takes its name. It is one of the most densely settled areas of Logan County, with a dozen coal mines and more than 10% of the population. Not much wider than a football field at some points, the hollow forms a natural funnel from the dam to the Guyandot River 17 miles away. Often, a heavy rainfall is enough to flood the valley's 16 mining towns, many of which border right on Buffalo Creek.

Holding Fast. After the other deputy's call, Mutters drove to the slag heap and checked with a mining official, who assured him that the dam was holding fast. Unconvinced, Mutters set out in his car to spread the alarm. But there was too little time, and the people of Buffalo Creek had been threatened too often before with false alarms about the dam. Some time after 8 a.m., the wall of slag burst open "like a bomb had hit it," according to one witness, and a huge mountain of water and sludge descended on the hollow, trapping many people still asleep.

Estimated to have been between 20 ft. and 30 ft. high, the 175 million gallons of raging water released from the dam simply demolished the valley. In the dozen miles closest to the dam, its enormous force stripped the soil down to bedrock in places, lifted buildings, cars and trees and hurled them downstream. A frame church was seen riding the flood's crest like a flagship, before being battered to splinters. In one community the only building left standing was the company store. Several bodies were later found floating in the Guyandot some 20 miles downstream.

Because of its mucky consistency, the flood tide took about an hour to course through the valley, leaving behind a thick mantle of silt and slime that hampered rescue operations for days afterward. Viewed from the air, reported TIME Correspondent Art White, the hollow "looked like a black corrugated moonscape." All told, 1,500 houses were destroyed or damaged and 4,000 people left homeless. More important, 92 are known dead, and almost as many are still missing; over 1,100 were injured.

Rescue attempts began almost immediately, as West Virginia Governor Arch Moore Jr. sent in the National Guard and signed a bill providing $1,000,000 in emergency relief. From Shanghai President Nixon telephoned Moore and declared Logan County a national disaster area. Both the American Red Cross and the Salvation Army moved into the area and from emergency headquarters in the town of Man, which survived the flood relatively intact, began the awesome task of feeding and clothing the stunned survivors. Guardsmen driving heavy machinery prodded through the debris and rubble for bodies. To get the hollow back on its feet, federal authorities have promised to bring in 500 mobile homes, which will be set up in trailer parks and turned over to the homeless, rent-free for a year.

No amount of rescue work, however, could still the acrimonious debate that erupted over who was responsible for the disaster. Slag dams --or gob piles, as they are often called in the region--are an ugly but common sight in West Virginia. Like the one at Buffalo Creek, which was owned by the Buffalo Mining Co., a subsidiary of the Manhattan-based Pittston Co., they are built up from the residue that results from washing coal. The slime and silt settle, and the water that backs up behind the slag heap is often used again for washing the coal. Such dams in West Virginia have breached before. After the flood, the U.S. Geological Survey disclosed that in 1967 West Virginia state officials were warned that four waste piles in the state were dangerous, and corrective action was taken. Reports also were made on 34 other waste piles, including the one at Buffalo Creek, which was found to be stable, but could be "overtopped and breached" by water.

Act of God. At a press conference, Governor Moore denied any knowledge of the Geological Survey's warning. A high official of the Pittston Co. was quoted by the Charleston Gazette as fatuously blaming the disaster on "an act of God." The flood, of course, was rather the result of poor engineering and poor judgment. Intensive state and federal investigations are now under way to determine its immediate cause.

All of which matters little to the grieving and homeless miners of Buffalo Creek Hollow, many of whose kin and neighbors now lie beneath the markers that dot the rolling hills of West Virginia. The people of Buffalo Creek say that they have known for years that the slag pile was dangerous. And yet, in the face of a peril so imminent, they continued to live in the threatened valley because it was the only life they knew.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.