The Great Disappearing Act of Centralia, Pennsylvania
Published November 16, 2006
One of my favorite themes in art is entropy: drawing, paintings, architecture, and photography. I find beauty in the concept that time and decay are inseparable, and for some strange reason I just like seeing what time does to all the things in this world.
This means I was the kid in high school who, in photography class, took really lame pictures of crap like tattered vinyl chairs in abandoned warehouses. Then, cooped up in my bedroom that smelled of socks and Marlboro Lights, I would look at my photographs while listening to Metallica and wondering why more girls (read: any girls) didn't want to sleep with me. You'll be relieved to know I did grow out of that phase, mainly because I figured out why girls didn't want to sleep with me. I'm a freakin' ogre, that's why.
Of course, entropy touches more than just vinyl chairs, and on much bigger scales, too.
One could argue that the town of Centralia, Pennsylvania wasn't so much the victim of entropy as it was the victim of a terrible accident that just took several decades to reach its conclusion. Decay happens naturally and isn't sparked by human intervention. Centralia was set on fire, in a manner of speaking. Somewhere out there is the guy who started that fire. And he must feel like a real loser.
By the 1960's, Centralia had become quite a happenin' little coal miner's town, like a lot of those in the hills of Pennsylvania. It had a general store, a nickelodeon, some nice Catholic schools (with seven churches to match), and more than a few saloons — twenty-seven to be exact — but even an idyllic little town produces its fair share of trash. By 1962 the glorious, patriotic heap of red-blooded American garbage in the town's dump started to offend the olfactory palate of even the hardiest townsfolk. Someone devised what was arguably the best solution at the time - to burn the heap of trash to the ground and have the volunteer fire brigade hose down whatever was left. This was before us liberals invented "the environment," so it was perfectly acceptable at the time.
The ingenious Centralians, never ones to waste, turned an anthracite coal strip mine (an above ground mine, what we commonly think of as a "quarry") into the garbage dump in question after it had exhausted the mine's capacity - or so they thought.
The good news is that they did get rid of all that nasty trash. It was a pyrrhic victory, however. The conflagration ignited a vein of coal. That coal vein led to the mines that we more often associate with mining - the underground ones.
- The Great Disappearing Act of Centralia, Pennsylvania
- Published: November 16, 2006
- Type: Opinion
- Section: Culture
- Filed Under: Culture: History, Culture: Home and Garden, Culture: Humor and Satire
- Writer: Timothy Moriarty
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- Timothy Moriarty's personal site
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Very interesting and sad article. While not identical in process, my own hometown and surrounding communities nearly died out following the closure of the lead mines in the early 1970's.
I can understand, in a way, the desire of the townspeople to hang on as long as they could. The mines had been the largest employer in this area for over a hundred years. When they pulled up stakes and shut down, it was devastating to the local economy.
Our old towns of Leadwood, Rivermines, Elvins, Esther, and Flat River, MO faded into history. What was once a vibrant and vital part of the Old Lead Belt no longer exists.
We have reinvented ourselves and our way of life, but it was hard to let the past go. I hope the former residents of Centralia can find peace wherever they settled down.
A well-written piece about the unfortunate demise of this town... for the most part. Unfortunately, some of what you write is completely untrue. Homes and businesses did NOT subside into the ground, nor did any structures catch fire from the underground mine fire. The fire remained on the extreme south side of the town, as many of the old miners who knew the layout of the coal below has predicted it would. The north side of the town, which oddly enough is the most vacant, was completely untouched by the fire; some surmise that this is because the watertable below prevents the spread of the fire to that section. If you live close enough to visit the town, I highly recommend it.
Hey Mauri--thanks for the corrections. I had to rely on information on the internet for my sources, and needless to say much of what I read was of dubious origins. Once I get a job I plan on buying some good old-fashioned books on the topic to try to get my facts straight.
A remarkable story, Timothy. Thanks for telling us about it. Well written, too.
Really cool article. I like reading about that sort of stuff.
we rode our motorcycles out to centralia this past weekend. what a place! it was mostly deserted...we stopped to see the smoke coming out of the ground and the deserted part of route 61. Got an eerie feeling while i was there, to be in an actual ghost town was something.
Wow, really creepy. I'm a primary school teacher and stumbled across a report a couple of lads did on the town. I'm going to use it as a stimulus for some creative writing as I'm so inspired.
Great article Tim, well done Sir.
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Very interesting stuff and really fascinating as a read. How did the town get its name, BTW. I'm curious .... it sounds like it should be a place on the other side of the Pacific, in the desert about 30 miles outside Alice Springs.