After the Disaster: Re-creating Community and Well-Being at Buffalo Creek since the Notorious Coal-Mining Disaster in 1972
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After the Disaster: Re-creating Community and Well-Being at Buffa ...

Chapter 1:  Buffalo Creek Before, During, and Soon After the Flood
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Of the identifiable dead, all but two of them had surnames that were ostensibly “northern European.” Seven of the dead had names that often are associated with feuds between clans in that part of Appalachia: four were Hatfields, three were McCoys. Most all of the dead (at least 73 percent of them) had lived in the coal camps at the upper end of the valley. Of the victims whose bodies were recovered and were identifiable, Lundale and Lorado had forty-nine and forty-two of the deceased, respectively. Latrobe had five. Amherstdale had four. Stowe had two. Crites had two. Robinette had four. Accoville had three dead. Kistler had one.

In addition to the dead, hundreds of people had almost drowned. Hundreds more were injured in collisions with broken rails and railroad ties, buildings, vehicles, and other floating debris, and when they were washed into bridge abutments, trees, and boulders. Hundreds of people had open wounds, concussions, ruptured internal organs, broken bones, and severe sprains. Physical shock was commonplace. The oily, polluted wastewater from the gob ponds caused respiratory and digestive problems. People died days later because they had ingested or inhaled too much “gob.” By some accounts, even people who escaped physical injury were so stunned by what they had witnessed that they could do little more than lie down and cry, sit and stare, or stumble and slosh around aimlessly in dazed silence, feeling cold, wet, and disoriented. Many of them did not know where to go or what to do next. Kai Erikson interviewed an uninjured, seventy-year-old man who said:

Well, the day of the flood we just milled around to see what we could find. Just drifted around. Nobody knowed what to do or what they was looking for.

A fifteen-year-old girl confided in Erikson:

Everybody was wandering around and asking if you had seen so-and-so, and I never saw a time like it. People would just stop to go to the bathroom right beside the railroad because there wasn’t anywhere to go, and dogs that had been washed down and weren’t dead were running up to you and they were wet.