Actually, you have to leave your hat on if you want to see where you are going.
You had to lie on your side make sure you were pointed down-grade.
I spent 24 years in coal mining, working for a company that burned 80 million tons of coal per year for electric power generation. We tried to produce about 20 million of that total in our own mines, located in Ohio, West Virginia, and Utah. The bulk of the production was from underground mines, the rest from surface mines. (In the industry, we don’t refer to them as “strip mines”.)
As you might guess, in an underground mine it is very dark, as in no photons in the visible light spectrum without artificial illumination. So underground miners all wear hard hats, both to protect themselves from hitting the roof or suffering from something falling on them, and also to provide a clip to hold a cap lamp. The lamp is powered by a battery, which weighs several pounds and is carried on a belt, with a cord that runs up the back and then over the top of the hard hat. Also on the belt was a “self-rescuer”. In my early years in the business, the self-rescuer contained a chemical that would remove carbon monoxide in case of a fire. At the end of my career, we carried a “self-contained self-rescuer” which supplied oxygen, either from a pressurized tank or from a chemical that would produce oxygen when heated. And we had a brass tag on the belt with our name and social security number. When my then wife first saw the brass tag on my belt, she guessed, correctly, that it was to identify my body in case of a disaster. We had another tag which we hung on a board outside at the beginning of the shift, in order to keep track of who was underground.
The cap lamp was used to signal other miners in the high noise environment of a working section. A back-and-forth motion meant stop, a circular motion meant “come here”. Walking through the mine required constant attention to any obstacles on the floor, as well as looking at the roof to avoid hitting your head on rocks or roof bolts. At less than five feet six inches in height, I had an advantage in terms of avoiding hitting the roof and could often zoom through the mine ahead of other people who were taller. We had one mine, however, that was only 28 inches from roof to floor. In that mine, we had to spend the entire shift on our hands and knees, with gloves and knee-pads on. (If you had to take a pee, you had to lie on your side and make sure you were pointed down-grade. There were no women in that mine.)
At the beginning of my career, I was issued a green hat, to let everyone underground know that I was new to the environment. Only after the first forty days was I allowed to graduate to a white hat.
All of our mines were union operations. During my career, I went underground at a few non-union operations, and I was appalled at the lack of adherence to standard safety protocols. In a union mine, a worker has an absolute contractual right to withdraw for safety reasons. At the end of my time in the mines, our mining operations were far safer than any of the rest of the company’s operations.
People who walk into a room and flip a light switch generally have no idea what it takes to make sure that that light comes on.
Jeff Gerken
Very interesting take on this topic, Jeff. I learned a lot, have a far greater appreciation for what goes on underground and definitely appreciate unions and the need for strict adherence to safety protocols. Thanks for sharing.
A unique take on a very valuable type of hat, Jeff, and indeed we often fail to see the connection between direct experiences like yours and using electricity or water, for that matter. And, I can definitely see why there were no women in the mine.
Good story, Jeff. But we need a photo of you in a hard hat! One of my business school section mates probably made your hat – Jed Bullard’s grandfather started the Bullard company in San Francisco in 1898 to provide lamps and other equipment to miners. In 1919, he patented the hard hat.
A fascinating story, Jeff, and also a terrifying one. Thank you for sharing what I am sure is information almost none of us have ever had to know for our jobs. (As a corporate lawyer, all I had to do was make sure my tie didn’t clash with my shirt and to put on my jacket before going to a partner’s office. Brutal.)
Your story is also a sobering reminder of how important unions are for the safety and well being of workers. No; companies will not self-regulate nor is governmental oversight always a guarantee.
Her’e hoping that we will eventually be able to turn on all our lights using cleaner AND safer energy. At least we again have a federal government that seems to believe in this.
Thanks, Jeff, for reminding us that not all hats are for decoration only. I had a former brother-in-law who worked in mining country in the Appalachian area of Kentucky — he was a newspaper reporter — and he talked about how hard it was working in the mines.
Jeff, as you may know, I always use song titles for my story titles, and when I was thinking about what song to use this week, I considered the one you used. I decided it was too risqué for my story, but it is perfect for yours! And thanks for this very vivid description of working in a coal mine. Wow!
This was so interesting, Jeff, I learned a lot about mining as well as hard hats. Thanks for sharing.
Very informative and a different perspective on headgear for sure. I like thinking about the colors of the headgear in comparison to the colors of martial arts belts. I like knowing that the union miners have so much more protection–I only wish the rest of them could join up and be entitled to the same level of safety and human dignity.
I’ve been in a couple of the old played-out copper mines in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Candles (which the miners had to buy) for light, no respiratory protection and a general disregard for human life was the rule. Fascinating, nonetheless!
I really appreciate your story. We don’t get to see inside work environments very often. Your comments about the role unions play in ensuring safety ring so true. I remember reading about silver mining at Potosi in “the Open Veins of Latin America”, a horrific accounting of extracting resources in the colonial era. I hope that coal mining will no longer be necessary some day when cleaner and safer energy sources are available.
Thank you Jeff for reminding us not to take our electric power for granted, thanks for the risks you took during your years in the mines, and thanks to the powers that be that kept you healthy and able to tell the tale!
Forgive me! Thank you JEFF!
De nada.
An enlightening and sobering story, Jeff…I appreciate your sharing it.