They Can Take It

There was another way of looking at the mess of bodies, tears and coal dust up in Springhill, Nova Scotia last week. The casket trade in the Maritime Provinces, which are economically depressed, rose sharply. The coffee-donut market was brisk as newspapermen arrived from the city. (There are no saloons in Nova Scotia.) The telephone company worked overtime to string up extra lines so the press could transmit its wirephoto of Canada living in the early 19th century. That picture was about the only good thing that ever came out of Springhill.

All I know about Springhill is what I read in the papers. Even without the services of a municipal press agent, Springhill has scored with an impressive number of headlines in the last two years. Back in November, 1956, about 127 men with black faces were working in Mine No. 4 of the Dominion Steel and Coal Company when they heard and felt an explosion. The result did not become clear until two days later when all precincts were heard from and 39 men were counted dead. The newspapermen on hand for the occasion were figuring on an even higher total, but the miners, who are a courageous lot, fooled everybody. Promptly adjusting to the situation in which they found themselves, many of the men lay on their bellies and sucked air through tiny holes in a pipe. Some lay on their bellies and sucked air for 43 hours. Help eventually found them, and 88 in all, I think--88 who had been designated for celestial honors by the boys at the head of the shaft--emerged into daylight with their heads held high.

After the dead were buried (the explosion itself performed this ceremony for some of the victims in No. 4, which was later sealed off) and the widows were comforted, many persons in the town muttered of dissatisfaction with life in Springhill, where no matter how often you took a bath you never could get yourself really clean. No one was ever going to get rich in Springhill, they knew that, and the work didn't seem the safest in the world. Mostly the young people talked of leaving first, of going up to Ontario where they could work in a factory. And a few oldtimers, generally of Scots origin, themselves admitted it mightn't be such a bad idea. But for the most part, the band of lean and wiry miners hung on in belief that things could scarcely get much worse.

Things did, of course. Sometime between the original event and the recent event--last winter, I think--misfortune befell the 7,000 citizens of Springhill once again. A fire destroyed many of the buildings belonging to Dominion Steel and Coal (known in the brokerage houses and luncheon clubs as "DOSCO"), and the chief misery of the fire, as I remember, seemed to lie in the effect it might have on the future operations of the company. With No. 4 functioning only as an expensive, spacious grave for the victims of the first event and with much surface equipment lost in the fire, there was some question whether "DOSCO" would continue to have faith in Springhill's future. Merchants tightened credit and more people left town.

But the company, which had been in Springhill for a very long time as Canadian mines go, had at least some faith in Springhill's productive capacity and kept its mine going. Last week in No.2, about 167 men on the night shift felt the pit floor heave upward and they knew Springhill was in the publicity game once again.

For the next six months or so, visiting politicians will shake hands around town and outraged public sentiment will force one or two of these politicians to look into what's going on, I mean really going on, in Springhill. Some will suggest greater safety precautions; some will suggest that the town close up, go away and forget its troubles. But Springhill won't close up, go away and forget because things could scarcely get much worse. Canadians all over are proud of the people of Springhill because the face of the Canadian people is concave, which is good for taking punches.