World War I, epidemic ruffle county's decade of prosperity

Great Saint Clair yard bears witness to anthracite's affluence

BY LEO L. WARD

The Great War, President Woodrow Wilson's ``war to end all wars,'' changed the world during the nineteen-teens.

Schuylkill County sent 13,000 men to fight in it and, when they returned home bearing the dreaded ``Spanish flu'' virus, 1,600 local people died during the terrifying fall of 1918.

But these events of international and national significance played out against a backdrop of anthracite-fueled prosperity.

Despite a significant strike in 1912, miners saw gains that started in the Great Strike of 1902 consolidated. Even the most destructive fire in Pottsville's history was unable to slow economic progress in the thriving region.

That vitality was evident in The Reading Company's opening of the Saint Clair coal yard, the largest such facility in the world, whose reputation would spread far and wide in the decades that followed. During the Saint Clair yard's heyday 1913 to the 1950s the great trains filled the air with smoke and noise. People who lived in Saint Clair, Port Carbon, Schoentown, Palo Alto, Mechanicsville and nearby patches grew accustomed to the growling.

All the tracks have been removed. The great roundhouse where engines were repaired is gone. After standing for 75 years, the iron bridge connecting Mill Creek and the Port Carbon/Saint Clair Highway was replace in 1991. The only reminder of the historic yard is the old car shop, unoccupied today at the borough end of the Saint Clair Industrial Park.

Railroads served the borough as far back as 1862, when the Mahanoy-Broad Mountain Railroad connected its lines with the Mill Creek Railroad at New Castle.

That opened up markets for rich Mahanoy Valley coal, hauled up to Frackville by the famed Mahanoy Plane, the incline railroad that used gravity to raise its load.

In the early 1900s, with demand for anthracite growing, The Reading Company began lining up investors to create a new yard close to the Mahanoy Valley.

This group saved the Mahanoy Plane and, after intensive discussion, announced it had bought swampland on Saint Clair's south end for a huge rail yard.

That site will never be a rail yard, Enoch McGinnis, while sinking his Saint Clair shaft in 1862, had written investor Henry Carey in Philadelphia.

Despite all the odds against it, the Saint Clair Coal Yards were officially opened and dedicated in 1913 and became the great transportation center for the Southern Anthracite Field.

The yard had 46.5 miles of track and capacity for 2,861 cars. It was the largest coal yard in the world and was famous into the 1950s.

It's 1,200 employees, including 25 supervisors, were equipped to handle all kinds of repairs in the car shops. The engine house, where minor repairs were done, was big enough for 25 engines.

For almost two decades, the Mahanoy Valley coal would pass through the yards until the Mahanoy Plane closed in 1931. The demand for coal continued to dwindle through the '30s and '40s.

Abandoned, the site was sold in 1972 for $68,000 and today is home to the Saint Clair Industrial Park. Labor disturbances during the late 19th and early 20th centuries when the anthracite coal miners went on strike were not always peaceful.

During the Great Strike of 1902 when 147,000 miners walked off the job, a man was beaten to death in Shenandoah. The governor had to send two National Guard regiments and a cavalry troop to the scene to restore order.

During the strike of 1912, headlines in The Pottsville REPUBLICAN called dramatic attention to the ``Minersville Riot'' that left two men near death, two injured and an innocent woman hurt.

The miners strike started on a conciliatory note, with the owners of the Pine Hill Colliery running a newspaper ad on April 19, 1912, offering employees a 10 percent wage increase if they did not strike.

Unionism's style in 1912 had changed since 1902. Then, the union formally submitted demands to the operators and argued with them to get what it wanted. By 1912, however, the miners simply gave their demands to the operators and allowed negotiations to drop.

The strike started on May 1, 1912, with nobody reporting for work at any colliery in the Southern Anthracite Field, including Pine Hill. The first day of the strike started out as a big holiday for everybody. The miners were in a good frame of mind and so were the operators.

By May 8, however, there was trouble in Minersville.

A fight broke out at Ulmer's Garage, Fourth and Sunbury streets, and Superintendent Keiser, who was picking up two men to drive them to work at Pine Hill, was forced to seek protection from a mob determined to block him.

Chief of Police Levan, unable to control the crowd, sent for the state police. Three troopers that patrolled the Minersville area were soon reinforced by four more from the Pottsville Barracks.

The crowd was ordered to disperse, to no effect. Then, someone threw a brick that hit a trooper on the head. Suddenly, stones, bricks and other missiles filled the air.

Several pistol shots were also taken at troopers, who fired a volley into the ground in a futile attempt to quiet the crowd. A second volley, into the air, only drew more shots from the crowd.

A pitched battle ensued. By the time the smoke cleared, it was estimated that more than 100 shots had been fired. The crowd melted away, leaving four combatants lying on the ground.

David Davis was taken into the garage where a doctor concluded his wounds would probably be fatal. The other wounded the newspaper called them ``foreigners'' were carried to nearby saloons by their friends.

Polo Washkavich, a Lithuanian who had been working in collieries around Minersville for about a year, succumbed to his wounds. More then 3,000 ``foreigners'' gathered for the funeral, but all was peaceful.

Andrew Mickza, who was also shot in the riot, was saved by a Miss Harvey, a high school student, who heard him crying for help as he lay near the railroad.

Early in the afternoon the day after the riot, the rumor spread that a miners' train was due at the depot and another demonstration there and at the ``foreign'' union headquarters would follow.

Twelve troopers arrived and the detachment took up positions. By the end of the week, things quieted down. On Saturday, May 18, it was announced that an agreement had been reached.

On the icy night of Dec. 17, 1914, the largest fire in Pottsville's history burned down almost the entire block of South Centre Street between West Norwegian and Mahantongo.

The parking lot across Mahantongo Street from The REPUBLICAN & Herald's headquarters was the site of the Academy of Music, mecca of local entertainment lovers.

Just hours before the blaze, large crowds had watched the Cornell Price Players there, starring Pottsville native Hattie Madara, in ``Hearts of the Blue Ridge.'' Tickets for the show were 10, 20, and 30 cents.

The nickelodeons of the day the Majestic showing the two-reeler ``The Girl and the Explorer,'' with Tom Moore, The Victor showing ``Mysterious Rose,'' with Grace Cunard and Francis Ford, and the Garden showing ```The Man of the Hour'' had been dark for three hours. So had the Hippodrome, where ``Jack and Jill,'' a musical comedy, was playing.

Suddenly came the crackle of fire from the Woolworth store in the 100 block of South Centre.

By the time the disastrous fire ended, the block lay in ashen ruins and property worth more than $1 million was nothing but smoldering embers.

The fire was discovered by Officer Moyer, a Pottsville policeman, walking a cold, lonely wee-hours' beat, and Ed Winger, a brakeman on a shifter in the Reading yards who was on his way to work.

Moyer, thinking it was only packing smoldering, turned in the alarm from Box 18 at 3:18 a.m. But when he returned to the scene, the entire interior was ablaze and flames were already up to the third floor.

After a futile preliminary attempt to extinguish the blaze, a general alarm went out. The American Hose and Good Intent companies were the first on the scene, and began pouring streams of water on the building.

As early as 4 a.m., however, it was clear the entire block was doomed.

From Woolworth's, the fire moved rapidly south to the Cowen building, the Mortimer Hat store, and the Pennsylvania National Bank. It moved quickly north to the holiday-stocked Britton-Hoffman and Meihle stores.

Miraculously, the Union Bank & Trust was spared, but the flames hopscotched up Mahantongo Street to the Academy of Music and Union Hall. A score of smaller stores and private homes were turned into ashes.

Firemen worked in zero-degree temperatures. Hands and hoses froze. Fire Chief James Lynaugh and his crews watched in horror as water pressure dropped from a normal 65 pounds to 25, to 20 and even lower.

The 25 hoses fought a futile battle against the monstrous heat of the blazing fire. The whole block was going to be lost. Second and third alarms summoned firemen from nearby towns.

Palo Alto was the first on the scene, followed by Saint Clair, Schuylkill Haven and Minersville. The Alert Company from Saint Clair sent its steamer and chemical wagon, together with its hose carts.

Power lines fell to the ground, making it more dangerous for the firemen. The flames lit up the entire downtown, making it as bright as day.

Walls of the famous Meihle Department Store that stood where the Pennsylvania National Bank is located today, came crashing down on West Norwegian Street.

At times the flames threatened to spread across Mahantongo and West Norwegian streets, putting the whole downtown business district in peril. One of the great fears at the height of the fire was that Union Hall opposite The REPUBLICAN on Mahantongo Street would fall and spread across the street to The REPUBLICAN and Necho Allen Hotel.

As morning dawned, firemen finally brought the fire under control and Pottsville began to sum up its loss. Early estimates of $2 million in damage were scaled back to $1 million, about two-thirds covered by insurance.

At 9 a.m., a reporter standing in front of The REPUBLICAN noted he could see the courthouse, although smoke only allowed him to see the clocktower from time to time.

Debris littered West Norwegian Street, piled almost one-story high. Gradually the remains of the great fire were removed and buildings were once again erected at the site.

Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne, and his wife were assassinated by a Bosnian Serb terrorist on June 28, 1914, setting off a chain reaction.

On July 27, a REPUBLICAN editorial urged European nations to proceed cautiously, but within days, World War I was under way.

President Woodrow Wilson was able to keep the United States out of the European war, and succeeded until the end of 1916, when Germany sank the Lusitania that had Americans aboard, then three more ships, raising American deaths to 200 and setting off a war fever.

Wilson called a special session of Congress and, when it convened April 2, 1917, he asked America to engage in a war to make the world safe for democracy.

So Congress declared war, and patriotism burst out all over Schuylkill County. Recruiting began to bring Pottsville's two National Guard companies to full strength. The Rotary Club urged its members to wear tiny American flags on their lapels.

On April 8, Frackville held the first patriotic parade in the county. The collieries closed, borough business was suspended and school let out at noon so 1,300 children could march in the great parade.

Approximately 4,500 people were in the line of march, including the Patriotic League of Schuylkill County, which arrived by special train from Pottsville, and were led by the Third Brigade band.

Ashland held a parade the next day that drew 2,500 people. Other patriotic parades were held in Port Carbon, Mahanoy City and Tamaqua.

Pottsville decided its patriotic celebration would be held on Saturday, April 28, 1917, announced by a banner headline in The REPUBLICAN: ``Patriotic Parade Biggest Event in Pottsville History All of the County is Coming.''

``I will be there with a thousand men,'' announced Superintendent Merrick of the Eastern Steel Co. mill at the Pottsville Loyal League's planning meeting. Fire companies and patriotic societies pledged their support.

Soon, 30 bands agreed to participate, then 40. All the mines planned to close. So did businesses.

By train, trolley and auto, nearly 20,000 people came to Pottsville that day to march under a clear sky under warm sun and in a cool breeze. Patriotism was at a peak in Schuylkill County on that day.

Soon, uniformed men were common on the streets of Pottsville. They drilled, Company D of the 112th Regiment at Agricultural Park, Company C at Dolan's Park, Company H at Lawton's Hill, where Nativity BVM stands today.

As native sons headed to camp and overseas, war drives of many kinds were launched, including Liberty Loan drives to sell bonds to finance the war.

The 112th left for Hoboken, N.J., where it boarded a steamer May 7 for Liverpool. They landed on May 14 and were soon taken to France and marched to Chateau Thierry where, on July 7, they had their first taste of war: A German shell fell only 50 yards away.

The 29th Division of the American Expeditionary Forces was praised for its fighting spirit. The commanding general proudly noted its casualty list was fourth highest.

The war's turning point came in the summer of 1918, a year after the United States' entry. The ghastly Battle of the Marne, July 16 to Aug. 6, broke the Germans' back. On Nov. 11, the armistice was signed.

At home, a different battle awaited.

In September 1918, World War I was coming to an end and optimism was high. At first, nobody paid much attention to this thing that had hospitalized a few soldiers at Camp Devins in Massachusetts.

There were a few fleeting items in Schuylkill County newspapers about Boston schools closing, and a vague hint that ``Hun U-boats'' were spreading a plague of germs on America.

Then came a brief article advising what to do about ``Spanish Flu,'' but war gardens, the Red Cross and the new Liberty Loan Drive continued to dominate the news.

Suddenly, the story hit home: On Sept. 17, 1918, the call for Army draftees was held up by influenza.

By Oct. 4, it had become a panic. By order of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, all saloons, pool rooms, theaters and dance halls were closed, though not schools and churches yet.

By the next day there were 800 cases of influenza in Pottsville alone. The city Board of Health issued a ``Drastic Order'' closing all stores except drug stores churches, schools, clubs and other organizations at 6 p.m. Henceforth, spitting on the sidewalk would be a misdemeanor, subject to a fine or imprisonment.

Newspapers published ``extras'' trumpeting news of the flu epidemic. The panic was on.

Hundreds of shoppers doubled their efforts to finish their shopping before the stores closed, with hundreds of women rushing frantically to beat the deadline.

Suddenly there were 5,000 cases in the county with 1,200 cases in Minersville alone. Hysteria spread.

Minersville, one of the hardest hit places in the state, had 47 deaths alone. One undertaker was stricken, unable to bury the 20 bodies in his care.

The state rushed in doctors and nurses to Minersville and Frackville to spell the four doctors, two of whom were down with the flu.

There were many cases in the Heckscherville Valley and an appeal for help was made to County Medical Inspector Dr. J.B. Rogers.

Pottsville was badly frightened. Alice Milliken threw open her Greenwood Hill home and 50 beds were hurried in. Tents were set up on the lawn for child patients.

One hundred beds were set up in the Pottsville Armory. The Red Cross appealed for blankets, sheets, bath robes and other supplies. The King's Daughters, a civic club of prominent local women, made face masks for people to wear so that they would not get the dreaded disease.

The state police raided saloons in Gilberton, Minersville and Saint Clair, arresting saloon keepers who defied the order to close.

Soon, eight Pottsville nurses were down with the disease that the overflowing obituary columns in the newspapers simply called, ``The Prevailing Malady.''

People desperately sought cures. Children were told to eat a yeast cake a day like a biscuit. Patent medicine sold out under the pressure of heavy advertising. One boy was selling moonshine, a purported cure, for 10 cents a pint.

Recent immigrants resisted reporting cases, fearing their loved ones' bodies would end up in Potters' Field. Schuylkill Haven ran out of caskets; bodies were stacked in open pits and covered with lime, then dirt. The field emitted a sickening stench the next spring.

In Frackville, colliery ambulances took people to an emergency hospital. Fifty-one cases were reported in one row of homes in Gilberton. By Oct. 14, Minersville's death toll was up to 164, including 41 in two days; a carload of caskets was rushed to town.

More than 100 army doctors were rushed to the county from the U.S. Army Medical Camp at Allentown, jumping into the breach to relieve county doctors who were themselves coming down with the disease.

A ``Flu Headquarters'' was set up in the offices of the Philadelphia & Reading Coal & Iron Co. at Second and Mahantongo, where the basement became a temporary morgue.

As suddenly as it arrived, the epidemic eased.

On Oct. 19, the flu story had shifted to the inside pages, although the county death toll would reach 1,599 on Oct. 25, 353 in Pottsville alone. On Oct. 21, word went out that theaters might reopen by Nov. 8, and schools by Nov. 11.

Nov. 11 was the Armistice the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month and all the news was of rejoicing. There was no more mention of ``Spanish flu.''

Black October from Oct. 2 to Nov. 3 had been a month of horror and sorrow.

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