The photograph titled "Negro Boys on Easter Morning" was taken on Easter Sunday, April 13, 1941, across the street from the Regal Theater in Chicago's Bronzeville Neighborhood by Russell Lee, a photographer from the federal government’s 'Farm Security Administration.' The photo is of five Negro boys dressed for Easter church services, perched atop a Pontiac Silver Streak Six that has become an iconic Chicago image.
The famous photo: "Negro Boys on Easter Morning."
The only one of the five boys to be identified as the tall, hatless teenager in the middle, Spencer Lee Readus, Jr., who was 14 when the photo was taken. “I was going to the show on Easter Sunday, and a white man approached me to ask if he could take a picture of these other boys and me,” Readus said. Lee posed the kids in front of a parked car. Spencer was the tallest and the only one without a hat, so he was put front and center in the photo.
Readus went on to serve in the U.S. Army during World War II and built a career as a plaster foreman. He and his wife, Setrennia, raised four children, Spencer Lee III, Claudia, Cherie, and Laurence. They lived in the Roseland neighborhood of Chicago.
Spencer Lee Readus Jr. is the only Negro at a Chicago Plastering Institute celebration. He’s in the 2nd row on the left in this 1956 photograph. Photo: WTTW Chicago.
“We Serve” – the official motto of the Lions
Clubs International – was supremely exemplified by Centralia, Illinois' Lions Club members during the last week of March 1947.
The City of Centralia, located in south-central
Illinois, about midway between St. Louis and Indianapolis, was created in
1853 and given its name by the owners of the Illinois Central Railroad as the
center of its rail empire.
Despite the dozens of trains that ran through the
town several times a day, life in Centralia was hardscrabble for many of its
13,000 residents, prompting the name of the mascot of Centralia High School’s award-winning
basketball team – The Orphans.
In the 1940s, the school made its way to the
State Tournament but had no uniforms. They were forced to choose from a pile of
red discards, prompting a Chicago sportswriter to comment, “The players looked
like a bunch of orphans in their ragged and torn uniforms, but they sure can play
basketball.”
Centralia was a coal-mining town. Many of the
families had worked the coalmines for generations. Wives, mothers, girlfriends,
sisters, nieces, daughters and granddaughters all sent a silent prayer in the
early morning hours as they packed the lunch pails of their men and boys.
They
remembered too well the stories about the dozens of mine explosions that had
killed thousands of miners in America’s long coal-mining history.
The women knew when the sirens blew at 3:26 pm on Tuesday, March 25th. They grabbed the babies and ran through
the cold March wind to the gate. Smoke was billowing out of Mine № 5, and
the onlookers were ordered to stand back by the mine officials of the Centralia
Coal Company.
By evening, the silent crowd had grown to 500. The
rain turned to snow. The waiters clustered in groups of families and friends. Some
waited at the gate; others sat on the benches in the washhouse where the
men changed into their work clothes in the morning.
Wives of men unaccounted for in the Centralia mine explosion wait beneath miners' clothing in the washhouse for word from rescue workers underground.
It was the place where the tired
miners who emerged each evening returned to wash up and change back out of their
grimy overalls. Each bystander watched as the clean outfits that were
hung on a chain that morning slowly disappeared with a tug on the pulley. There
were 111 outfits remaining.
Families waited under the clothes of their loved
ones. As the minutes turned into hours, they kept glancing at the corners of
the washhouse where an Inspection Notice from Illinois Mine Inspector Driscoll O.
Scanlan was posted.
Scanlan on several occasions had warned his superiors – Robert Medill, Director of Mines and Minerals, and Robert Weir, Assistant Director, – that the mine had an excessive build-up of coal dust that could explode unless the dust was cleared.
His warnings were ignored by them and the Centralia Coal Company and its parent company, Bell and Zoller, owned by Homer F. McDonald. On March 3, 1946, four of the miners even wrote a letter to Illinois Governor Dwight Green, begging him to “Please Save Our Lives.”
Their letter was also ignored, and three of those four men would soon be dead. Scanlan’s last warning was dated March 18th, exactly one week before the blast.
A group of men quietly sprang into action. Fred
Wham, the Chairman of the Centralia Chapter of the American Red Cross, appeared
before the Centralia Lions Club. He informed the Lions that the Red Cross
had been called in to assist by the owners of the mine. They were already
providing canteen and emergency services for the families.
Excerpt from Centralia Lions Club International.Two explosions, a month apart, brought into focus the ability of Lions to function in emergency situations. A mine disaster in Centralia, Illinois, March 25, killed 111 miners. Identification was practically impossible except through articles of apparel or personal object found on or near the bodies, such as knives, pipes, cigarette cases, watches, etc. The Centralia Lions immediately volunteered to assist the Red Cross to determine the identity of the miners, and visited the homes of the deceased miners, obtained information from the family; and the morticians were able to compare the data assembled with the articles found on or near the bodies, and to establish identity. The work entailed day and night efforts on the part of the Centralia Lions until it was completed on Sunday, March 30th. Then the Lions returned to the homes to notify the families officially. The Chairman of the Red Cross was high in his praise of the Lions’ efforts in this emergency.
Wham explained that at the time of the explosion,
142 men were in the mine; 24 had escaped but one later died from the effects of
breathing in the after-damp – the gases that remain after an explosion.
Red Cross workers served coffee, sandwiches, and doughnuts to waiting relatives, newsmen, police and workers as well.
Sixty-five
miners were now presumed dead from the blast or burns, and 45 more from
the gases if they had not sealed themselves off and could have been rescued. The total
number of possible deaths was 111.
Would the Lions Club help with the
identification of those who did not make it?
The Lions worked day and night for 5 days. They
began by visiting each family of the males who had not returned. They offered
arms of support to the grief-stricken families and quietly went about their
work. They started gathering and recording delicate identifying information
about the personal effects of those men who had been victims in the area of the
inferno.
Did their loved one wear glasses, or a ring, or
maybe carry a watch? Did they own a special
cigarette case, perhaps, or a pipe? Were any of their teeth missing?
The Lions returned to give the sad news to the
next of kin that a plausible identification had been made. Emma Niepoetter, now
85, remembers how her future husband, Bill, waited at the washhouse for news of
his father Henry’s fate. He then peered through the window of the local
newspaper, the Centralia Sentinel,
where a list of the dead was hung.
The Latest News – Crowds of people flocked to the Centralia, Illinois, Sentinel in the days following the № 5 mine explosion to read the latest bulletins posted on the business office window. The Sentinel's coverage of the disaster was timely and complete, and there were many extra editions.
The Bulletin was updated as soon as a
new identification was made. His father’s name soon appeared on the list.
The eyes of the world were now on Centralia. Besides
the Centralia Sentinel, dozens of news agencies
flocked to the city.
Reporters were joined by state troopers, company and
mining officials, doctors, nurses, rescue workers, Red Cross volunteers, the
National Guard and soldiers from Scott Air Force base. The soldiers helped
carry the stretchers.
United Mine Workers Association President John
L. Lewis also came down during that holiday week of Easter and engaged the
union’s right to demand 6 memorial days.
The time off would allow the bereaved families
and townspeople to grieve and hold services. The days without work in the mines
began on Saturday, March 29th, as the remains of the last 31 of the
dead were removed from the shaft.
The rescue workers found a message scrawled on
the rocks above the victims that read: “Look
in everybody’s pockets. We all have notes. Give them to our wives.”It was later determined that it was written
by Joe Bryant, who was asphyxiated.
Sam Bryant has a copy of the notes that his
father, Joe, wrote to his children and to his pregnant wife, Sam’s mother. He
asked her to name their twelfth child Joe so she would always have a Joe.
"Name baby Joe so you will have a Joe." The baby was a girl given the name Jody.
Sammie D. Bryant gave me [Patricia Lofthouse] a verbal release to allow Neil Gale to post the notes from his late father, Joe Bryant, that were found in his coat pocket.
Three months after his death, Lydian Bryant named their baby girl Joedy. Joedy
treasures the original note that her brothers and sisters felt she should have
when their mother died.
The Lions did not come to Sam’s home because his
father had died of the gases so his body was intact. Joe and six others had sealed
themselves off from the explosion and fire, including Sam’s uncle, Jack. They
were identified underground by the rescuers who reached them one day after
they expired.
Centralia Underground Mine car.
But Sam is not
surprised by the Lions’ actions. “The whole area was in mourning,” he
explained. “Everyone was so kind. Everyone pulled together.”
Cars Upset by Mine Blast – Roy Capps, safety instructor for the U.S. Bureau of Mines, inspects one of four heavy coal cars upset by the blast in the № 5 Mine. The photo was taken about 1½ miles from the main shaft by Ralph Walters, a Chicago Times photographer. Walters' name was drawn by lot to represent the Sentinel, the picture syndicates and other newspapers. This was the first view of the explosion's incredible strength.
A.J. Ballantini’s family also lost two brothers – his grandfather Pete and his great uncle Joe. They were Italian immigrants
who had stowed away on a ship in order to come to America. They had worked
hard in the mines since they were 16 and 14 years old. Joe only stopped for a
short time to fight in WWI. The work was
steady, especially during WWII when there was such a high demand for coal. The mine owners never slowed the mines down to clean them.
“Pete was the type of man who washed the coal
dust off his body each night and then got dressed in a 3-piece suit,” recalls
his granddaughter, Nira Ballantini.” He died, we were told, after being
struck by a trap door when he turned around to search for his brother.” Pete
had been in the first group of identified sixteen dead miners. The
family was not able to bury him for 10 days because the cemetery was so backed
up. His body lay in an open coffin in the family home as they waited for space
both at the cemetery and at a funeral parlor.
Hugh Moran is the current owner of the
Moran-Queen Boggs Funeral Home in Centralia. He is also the Secretary of the
Central City Lions Club. In October of 1965, the Centralia Club merged with
Central City, taking its name. “They had 33 to 35 funerals here in the two
weeks after the disaster,” Hugh explains. “We keep a photo of the memorial in the front
of the parlor.”
The memorial to which Hugh refers is the one
that was dedicated in the neighboring town of Wamac, immediately to the south
of Centralia.
On March 25, 2009, exactly 65 years later, the town held a
special ceremony where it unveiled the monument dedicated to those who died in
the disaster. It lists all 111 names. There is also an outdoor shelter in
Centralia with a similar plaque.
Charles Woolbright, the “Lion Tamer” of Central
City Lions Club, was only 12 when the tragedy occurred. His father, Clarence “Tib”
Woolbright, was the Marion County Sheriff, one of the four counties that
encompass Centralia. He was at the site before any of the dead were brought up
and he transported many of the victims to the morgue.
Like most of those in Centralia, the blast
became a personal tragedy for Charlie’s family. His uncle, John Pick, Jr., survived in the mine, but John’s father did not. Charlie’s wife’s
uncle also was not lucky. Celso Biagi was another Italian immigrant who went
to work in Mine № 5 when he arrived in the States. His nephew, John
Pawlisa, who had not been out of the Navy very long, was the youngest victim.
“We attended funerals, back to back, all week,
one after the other,” Charles recalls. Common services were held at St. Mary’s
Catholic Church and Centralia Township High School. “There were also individual
funerals at the churches and funeral homes all across town,” he explains.
Most
businesses shut down as a sign of respect while the funeral cars followed each
other through the streets. “All the church bells rang,” Charlie remembers.
A.J. Ballantini’s late aunt, Elaine Ballantini
Ziegler, was interviewed by Journalist Robert Hartley, co-author with David Kenny of the book Death
Underground: The Centralia and West
Frankfort Mine Disasters. When Hartley sat with Elaine, she told him that
she remembered the work of the Lions. “Her father, Joe wore a special ring,”
she explained. “Someone from the Lions Club came by as a part of the rescue
effort and asked if I could identify the ring. I looked at it and said it
belonged to my Dad. They had taken it off his body; that was the only way they
could identify the body.”
A. J., recalls his father telling him how this
catastrophe affected his family. There were now 8 kids without a father. Their
mother had never worked outside of the home. They all had to pitch in to get
by.
Sam Bryant also remembers the hard times. His
mother received $94 a month from his father’s Social Security, a new program
started by President Roosevelt in 1944, plus $90 a month from her husband’s
life insurance policy. “She always wondered where our next meal was coming
from,” he relates with a lump in his throat, “but I was able to supply all of
the meat for our family through my hunting and trapping.”
Even if they were not direct relatives, most families working at Mine № 5 were close. They lived mainly in the same
neighborhoods in Centralia and in the surrounding towns of Wamac, Carlyle,
Beckemeyer and Glen Ridge. They went to the same churches and schools, most especially
Centralia High, and shopped in the same stores. The kids played alley baseball
together, and the young people danced in the White City Music Hall parking lot in Herrin. Each loss was shared personally by hundreds.
There were now 99 widows and 78 children who now
had no fathers. The mayor of Centralia started a fund, and $20,000 was raised
that was divided among the families with just enough to help bury their dead.
The union’s new welfare fund that had just passed after a miners’ strike the previous
year did not have enough money in it yet to provide anything.
NO BENEFITS - Families of the victims of the explosion Tuesday in the Centralia Coal Company's № 5 mine will not get immediate aid from the United Mine Workers health and welfare royalty fund, UMW headquarters said, but a state district UMW official said, they are eligible for state industrial compensation. Hugh White, president of the UMW Illinois district, said the families would be eligible for $4,800 to $6,600 under the state act, depending upon the number in each family.
In Washington, the union said there was a delay in placing the welfare and retirement fund in operation, and that there was approximately $15,000,000 in the fund through collection on a nickel a ton on bituminous coal mined since settlement of last spring's 55-day strike.
The money for the miners' welfare and retirement benefits is to be handled by a three-man board. Secretary of Interior, J.A. Krug has not yet appointed the operators' representative. After appointment of the three trustees the board will have to set up standards and regulations governing payment of benefits.
The Lions completed their identification and
notification on Sunday, March 30th. On April 4, just 5 days later, Red
Cross Chairman Wham offered his thanks by writing to the Centralia Lions Club. In
his letter, he praised the members’ efforts:
...“the Lion’s Club is the type of organization
and made up of the kind of men who are both eager to perform any possible
service to mankind and also fully capable of performing that service. Since
that time I have stated to you that I am sure that the service that you have
performed will be to the everlasting credit of the Club.”
Songwriter Woody Guthrie later wrote and
performed his famous ballad about the disaster called “The Dying Miner."
Dear sisters and brothers goodbye. Dear mother
and father, goodbye. My fingers are weak and I cannot write. Goodbye
Centralia, goodbye.
In the verses, he sings the individual names of
some of the victims, including Joe Ballantini and Joe Bryant. Guthrie followed
this with a song based on the point-of-view of a miner’s son who waited and
watched called “Waiting at the Gate.”
The Dying Miner, Woody Guthrie
In 1947 the St. Louis Post-Dispatch
won the Pulitzer Prize for its coverage.
That same year artist Georges Schreiber of the
American Regionalist Movement created a lithograph to commemorate the Centralia
Mine № 5 Disaster. It depicts the sad children and widows reaching towards a
list of names nailed on to a tree. It's aptly titled “The List.”
"The List" by Georges Schreiber.
The official investigations into the blast
revealed that the explosion was caused when a spark of unknown origin somehow ignited
the built-up coal dust, just as Inspector Scanlan had predicted.
Sadly, the
investigators also learned that the miners’ shift had already ended and they
were headed to the elevators to take them up when the blast occurred.
A
$1,000 fine was levied against the parent company, Bell & Zoller. After
paying the fine it sold the Centralia Coal Company to the Peabody Coal Company
and Mine № 5 was given a new name – Peabody Mine № 21. 60 men went back to work there
on July 21st and mined for a year during the time that the investigations of
the tragedy were ongoing in Congress. Illinois Assistant Director Robert resigned
shortly after the blast. Director Robert Medill resigned from his post one week after the disaster. Scanlan later resigned due to harassment within the department.
The survivors and the families of the victims had always
backed Scanlan’s actions and regretted his departure. Peabody closed the
mine a year later, blaming “the high cost of mining coal in an old mine.”Governor Green lost his bid for reelection.
No
charges against the company ever stood and no new federal laws about mine
safety were enacted. An explosion in West Frankfort, Illinois, occurring 4½ years later on December 21, 1951, killed 119 miners. That tragedy finally prompted
the passing of the Federal Mine Safety Act on July 6, 1952. The Act mandated yearly
inspections, ventilation systems and thorough cleaning of the coal dust. Union
President Lewis, who had spoken eloquently to Congress about the failure of
Secretary of the Interior Julius Krug to inspect the mines, stood by as
President Harry Truman officially signed the bill into law.
President
Truman signed the bill with John L. Lewis watching.
Charlie
Woolbright reminds us that the Centralia Mine Disaster is still fresh in the
minds and hearts of everyone in the area. “We will re-dedicate the memorial in
2017, 70 years after the blast. It seems like it happened yesterday, though.” He adds philosophically, “It was a bad
tragedy but it brought out the good in people.” He is proud of the history of
the Lions and that they always try to serve where there is a need.
Centralia Coal Mine № 5 Disaster
March 25, 1947 ~ Woody Guthrie
Video created by Dakota Wheeler, Pietro (Pete) Ballantini's great-great-grandson.
THE VICTIMS OF THE CENTRALIA MINE DISASTER:
Joe Altadonna, of Sandoval, timberman, aged 60 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Roy Alvarez, of Beckemeyer, timberman, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Joe Ballatini, of Centralia, driller, aged 58 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Pietro Ballantini, of Centralia, driller, aged 69 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Alvin M. Barnes, of Centralia, foreman, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Nick Basola, of Sandoval, clean-up man, aged 43 years, married, He leaves a widow and five children.
Harry A. Berger, of Centralia, foreman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Celso Biagi, of Centralia, tracklayer, aged 62 years, single.
Dominick Beneventi, of Centralia, machine helper, aged 64 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Joe Bryant, of Sandoval, motorman, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow and six children.
Edward Bude, of Centralia, repairman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Otto Buehne, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 62 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Raymond C. Buehne, of Centrtalia, machine helper, aged 30 years, married. He leaves a widow and three children.
Thomas M. Bush, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John Busse, of Centralia, machine operator, aged 59 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Charlie Cagle, of Centralia, timberman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow and four children.
Theo. V. Carriaux, of Centralia, foreman, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Arthur H. Carter, of Centralia, tracklayer, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Anton Chirrottino, of Sandoval, tracklayer, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Paul Comper, of Centralia, machine man, aged 53 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Clifford Copple, of Centralia, motorman, aged 42 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Frank Copple, of Centralia, brattice man, aged 38 years, single.
Leo R. Dehn, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 53 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Eugene Erwin, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 45 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
George Evans, of Sandoval, clean-up man, aged 43 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Frank Famera, of Centralia, machine man, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Andrew Farley, of Beckemeyer, clean-up man, aged 58 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Walter Fetgatter, of Centralia, machine man, aged 55 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John Figielek, of Centralia, machine man, aged 48 years, single with one child dependent.
Wm. F. Fortmeyer, of Irvington, buggy operator, aged 25 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Ray W. Fouts, of Centralia, triprider, aged 47 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Odia Lee Francis, of Centralia, brattice man, aged 70 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Luther J. Frazier, of Beckemeyer, driller, aged 41 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Martin Freeman, Jr., of Sandoval, tracklayer, aged 20 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Martin Freeman, Sr., of Centralia, machine man, aged 39 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Albert J. Friend, of Richview, triprider, aged 36 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Brund Gaertner, of Centralia, machine operator, aged 47 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Angelo Galassini, of Centralia, driller, aged 61 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Dominick Gervi, of Sandoval, timberman, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Tony Giovanini, of Sandoval, timberman, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Joseph Gerotti, of Centralia, trip-rider, aged 36 years, single.
John O. Grotti, of Mt. Vernon, tracklayer, aged 32 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Louis Grotti, of Centralia, driller, aged 45 years, single.
Adolph Gutzler, of Centralia, machine helper, aged 48 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Fred W. Gutzler, of Centralia, driller, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John H. Gutzler, of Centralia, machine man, aged 63 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John W. Gutzler, of Centralia, foreman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Henry Hoeinghaus, of Woodlawn, motorman, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Ed. Hofstetter, of Centralia, tracklayer, aged 68 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Gustave Hohman, of Centralia, motorman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Ned L. Jackson, of Odin, a buggy operator, aged 34 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Warrie L. Jackson, of Centralia, motorman, aged 55 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Henry Knicker, of Centralia, trackman, aged 59 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Philip Knight, of Centralia, machine helper, aged 46 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Joseph Koch, Sr., of Beckemeyer, clean-up man, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow and thirteen children.
Charles Kraus, of Centralia, recovery man, aged 52 years, single.
Fred Laughaunn, of Centralia, machine man, aged 49 years, married, He leaves a widow and three children.
Domenico Lenzini, of Centralia, timberman, aged 59 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Pete Lenzini, of Centralia, driller, aged 62 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John Mazeka, of Beckemeyer, driller, aged 46 years, single.
Miles McCullum, of Centralia, driller, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Chas. McGreavey, of Centralia, machine man, aged 57 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Clarence McHenry, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
William Mentler, of Centralia, tracklayer, aged 61 years, single.
Fred Moore, of Centralia, timberman, aged 49 years, married, He leaves a widow and three children.
Elmer G. Moss, of Sandoval, machine helper, aged 33 years, married, He leaves a widow and four children.
H. W. Niepoetter, of Centralia, machine man, aged 42 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Chas. Oestreich, of Centralia, driller, aged 61 years, married, He leaves a widow.
George Panceroff, of Centralia, trip-rider, aged 24 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Martin Pasola, of Sandoval, foreman, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Frank Paulauskis, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 62 years, single.
John T. Pawlisa, of Centralia, tracklayer, aged 22 years, single
Charles L. Peart, of Sandoval, tracklayer, aged 60 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Jos. H. Peiler, of Beckemeyer, machine helper, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow and one other dependent.
Walter Pelker, of Dubois, timberman, aged 31 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Alva Petrea, of Centralia, generator operator, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Peter Piasse, of Sandoval, machine operator, aged 46 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Julius Piazzi, of Centralia, rock man, aged 27 years, single.
Louis Piazzi, of Centralia, machine man, aged 63 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John Pick, of Centralia, machine operator, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
John Placek, of Beckemeyer, machine operator, aged 45 years, married, He leaves a widow and three children.
Alfred O. Pollacci, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 69 years, married, He leaves a widow.
George Powell, of Odin, trackman, aged 40 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Richard Privette, of DuBois, timberman, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow and two children.
Glen Purcell, of Centralia, motorman, aged 34 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Nick Reggo, of Centralia, timberman, aged 57 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Jacob Rethard, of Centralia, machine operator, aged 60 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Forest Rhodes, of Sandoval, repairman, aged 45 years, married, He leaves a widow and five children.
Carl Rohde, of Centralia, machine man, aged 46 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Daniel C. Sanders, of Irvington, driller, aged 66 years, married, He leaves a widow.
H. W. Saundermeyer, of Centralia, timberman, aged 47 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Jacob Schmidt, of Centralia, driller, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Archie Schofield, of Centralia, machine man, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
L. G. Shaw, of Centralia, buggy operator, aged 44 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Anton Skrobul, of Beckemeyer, machine man, aged 63 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Clarence Smith, of Centralia, foreman, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Ray O. Smith, of Centralia, foreman, aged 56 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Andrew Spinner, of Sandoval, trackman, aged 51 years, single.
Joseph Spinner, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 57 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Alfred Stevens, of Beckemeyer, machine operator, aged 53 years, married. He leaves a widow.
James Tabor, of Centralia, driller, aged 42 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Stanley Teckus, of Centralia, timberman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Anthony Tickus, of Centralia, recovery man, aged 24 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Anton Tillmkan, of Centralia, clean-up man, aged 67 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Emmett Uhls, of Sandoval, machine helper, aged 49 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Dude Vancil, of Centralia, motorman, aged 46 years, married, He leaves a widow and one child.
Joe Vancil, of Centralia, foreman, aged 50 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Mark L. Watson, of Centralia, pumper, aged 71 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Joe Zinkus, of Centralia, timberman, aged 54 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Max Zonarinis, of Centralia, timberman, aged 65 years, married, He leaves a widow., of Centralia, trackman, aged 59 years, married, He leaves a widow.
Compiled and Edited by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Written by Patricia Lofthouse, M.L.S., Freelance documentary film
producer, researcher, and writer, who emailed text and some pictures to Neil Gale for an online presentation.
