[1386] Ballad of Spring Hill (Spring Hill Disaster)
Guest poem sent in by Dale Rosenberg <drosenbe@>
| Ballad of Spring Hill (Spring Hill Disaster) |
In the town of Spring Hill, Nova Scotia,
Down in the heart of the Cumberland Mine,
There's blood on the coal and miners lie
In the roads that never saw sun or sky
Roads that never saw sun or sky.
Down at the coal face the miner's workin'
Rattle of the belt and the cutter's blade
Crumble of rock and the walls close round
Living and the dead men two miles down
Living and the dead men two miles down
Twelve men lay two miles from the pitshaft
Listen for the drillin' of a rescue team
Six hundred feet of coal and slag
Hope imprisoned in a three-foot seam
Hope imprisoned in a three-foot seam
Eight days passed and some were rescued
Leaving the dead to lie alone
All their lives they dug their graves
Two miles of earth for a markin' stone
Two miles of earth for a markin' stone
In the town of Spring Hill you don't sleep easy
Often the Earth will tremble and groan
When the Earth is restless, miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
-- Peggy Seeger
|
Yesterday's poem about a mining disaster made me think of Peggy Seeger's
"Ballad of Spring Hill." Based on a real mining accident, where a number of
the trapped miners survived until rescued 8 days later, it has a haunting
melody and even more haunting lyrics. I heard it as a child, listening to
Peter, Paul and Mary's recording. I doubt I've heard or read it for 30 years,
but the line "all their lives they dug their graves" still gives me shivers.
Dale Rosenberg
Biography:
http://www.pegseeger.com/html/peggylongbio.html
[p.s. thanks to everyone who identified Stephen Mitchell as the translator of
the Rilke poem. - martin]
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From: Bluric@
I first heard this wonderful communication, with Ewan & Peggy, on a record
called Greatest Folksingers of the Sixties...I still have the record but would
love to purchase a CD of this same recording.........Vanguard offers the
original album SANS "The Ballad of Springhill!."
Is it possible to recommend a reliable source ??
From: Todd Canton on the Web <canton@>
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from the Springhill Record Nov16, 2005
COAL
When a young Vivian Gillis left the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia in
1948 to be married, she so looked forward to her new life, and yet
longed for
home. The close knit ties of a coal mining family are carefully
interwoven and uneasy to sever, perhaps due to a lot of pain and
anguish. The kind of pain and anguish that goes along with the
tragedies afforded coal mining families.
The depth and darkness of the Cumberland Mine has been described over
and over as the blackest of black, the loneliest of lonely and the
coldest of cold. But it is with those above ground that the worry sets
in, and the waiting takes place. Everyday the miners dig a little deeper,
miles beneath the earth's crust.
Vivian Gillis's father Dan and his brothers were all the men of the deep
mines. All bore the scars of this difficult and weary life. Most of
them aged before their time, suffered illness later in life, but coal
mining was in their blood. A hard old life for these resilient and
valiant men. As Vivian Gillis and her husband Bert were in the process
of creating a family in Amherst, tragedy struck. Fully pregnant with her
fourth child, the news came from Springhill. November 1956, a
devastating mine explosion. Vivian Gillis, beside herself with grief,
waited for her husband to come home and safely deliver her to her family.
The drive from Amherst to Springhill is a beautiful one at the best of
times but in the fall is it is just short of spectacular. The color of
the leaves , the ones that hadn't fallen, were able to channel her
thoughts back to her childhood and the many strolls she would take
through the untouched forest. She could hear the familiar sound of the
train whistle. She could see herself as a child sitting among them at
the supper table. All of them big and strong and strapping men. Baked
beans with brown bread served with hot steeped tea and plenty of it.
The sound of love and laughter always filled the rooms...........and
then off to bed early because all were up before dawn. A little more
coal placed in the stove to keep the home warm. Coal, the same thing
that brought warmth and work to their home was the same thing that so
dangerously affected each and every one of them.
It was the sound of the sirens broke her
concentration and brought her back to reality. As they got closer and
closer to the town the traffic thickened. Cars, trucks, police, fire
engines, ambulances. Dense smoke hung in the air and the stench of
death was all about. This dreary vision of Springhill is one that
Vivian Gillis would hold in her soul forever. Tragedy brings people out
in the streets. All met near the face of the mine. Doctors, miners,
draegermen, business men and the intense and profound sound of crying.
Just as they were able to bring some to the surface word came that
friends and family alike had lost someone dear.
A cousin, an uncle, a friend, gone. Such is the life of a miner's
family. Blood and bone is the price for coal, pain and suffering linger
in your soul. Vivian Gillis, like every other true Springhiller took
the disaster in stride. She supported those who needed it, fed the
families of the miners, opened her family home on Lisgar Street
to those who needed a hot cup of tea or a place to lie down.
She even sang songs with those whose souls required the comfort of music.
The media swarmed the town, support
came from all over the world, and as families came together to say
goodbye to the lost ones, Vivian Gillis went home to Amherst to have her
baby. Naturally upset by all that went on, Vivian suffered
complications that sent her to the doctor. Blood pressure at an
alarming rate might very well cause the death of her baby or even take
her own life. So, she had to settle herself down. She did, and a few
weeks later she held a baby girl in her arms.
As life moved forward, Vivian and Bert and their four children lived a
moderately quiet life. It was probably not their intention to have any
more children but a couple of years later there she was, full with
child, 1958, when the underground bump shook the town of Springhill
nearly upside down. This time 74 men were killed, the other 100
survived, some barely. Loved ones collected their beaten and broken and
the whole town mourned the losses together. This time the results were
devastating enough to make the decision to permanently close the mines.
Again, there she was evident in her passion, full with child and ready
to serve.
It wasn't an infringement on her part, it was a sincere obligation.
When one thinks about the disasters that we, as a world community, have
had to face, it might be true that it produces some of the strongest and
most resilient people. I don't think anything compares to the souls of
the families of coal miners. Work, blood, sweat, worry, tears, death
and more tears. Despite the obvious dangers involved, their abounds
among them a true sense of the value of life, laughter and love. Those
brave hard working men like Dan Gillis, his brothers Angus and Hughie,
and sisters Francess Gillis, and Mary Soppa were determined to secure a
better life for their children, far from the darkness of the mines. Dan
Gillis didn't want Vivian to be a miner's wife. To him, there had to be
a better life outside the walls of Springhill and there was.
She marched forward with a proud sense of who she really was,
and when forced to face any kind of obstacles in her future,
she was quick to rely upon those inward instincts of survival that were
permanently embedded on her soul. I should know,
Vivian Gillis was, is, and always will be, my mother. Vivian Canton
(1927-1998)
SUGAR PLUMS
When speaking about my mother I quite often start out by stating how
terribly intelligent she was. I often get a doubtful look or two, but
it is the truth. She was the smartest person I ever met in my life.
She was smarter than I was and that is saying something as I was pretty
slick as a child. It is said that I had the highest IQ at Amherst
Regional High School, but unfortunately for me I was the laziest
student there too.
As a young woman my mother was tall and slender with coal black hair.
That is not the woman I remember. My mother was a tall, fat and
prematurely gray woman, with a sharp wit, an immense and insightful
personality and an amazing sense of humourous timing. Convinced?
Born to an unwed mother of Chinese descent and given up for adoption,
she learned right off the art of survivability. She was no quitter and
was sensible enough to see the path before her and as a result, made a
lot of good choices. She met and married my father in Amherst and they
made a life together. It was a quiet and nice life until we, the kids,
came along. First our sister Joan, then Edith, Jack, Susan and a few
years later, Anne, Ruth and Todd. We all came with our own
personalities and quirks and in doing so filled that house on Russell
Street with music and laughter and love and war. Our mother became the
center of our universe and so, from there on, all we experienced in the
big world, we would run home to her, to share.
When my mother was forty-three years old, she found herself in a
difficult situation. A mother of seven, she was also a widow. I don't
know yet how she kept things together but she managed to keep an
optimistic outlook on life. I often questioned her on this positive
attitude. She said it went back to her days growing up in a coal mining
family. Her father Dan Gillis was a miner like his father before him
and they lived a coal miner's life. Despite the hardships that they
faced every day, you still moved forward and the one thing you never did
was give up.. This fiery sense of determination was passed onto all the
Gillis children and as a result all seem to be upbeat and forward
looking people despite the bleakest moments of their lives.
It was the first Christmas after our father had passed away that I was
able to view the strength that my mother, as a woman, possessed. We
were almost destitute financially but she was able to pull of a
successful Christmas. Not just that year, but every year. Looking back
it wasn't the toys, it was the tree. It wasn't the amount of gifts, it
was the gift of life and laughter. It wasn't the turkey dinner as much
as it was the gravy afforded, if you know what I mean?. If I try to
make a list of gifts that I received over the years I'm afraid it might
be a short one. Spirograph, a record player and Annie, Anne Murray's
1972 LP. I can however, tell you about the Christmas tree and how our
mother always used too much garland. But my, how it sparkled in the
evenings. Those evenings when we would sit and sing. I can recall the
long table where she fashioned a Nativity scene above and a valley
below filled with tiny houses and deer and sheep and cows. I can smell
the scent of Red Rose tea steeping on the stove in the kitchen. It was
the taste of fruitcakes that Mary Soppa had fashioned with her own
gentle hands. I can recall Amherst winters filled with snow blowing in
from the Tantramar Marsh. I can remember anticipating our sister Edith's
return from school in Cape Breton and the fear that we would not all be
together if she wasn't there for the holidays, especially since it was
the first one without Dad there. I can remember making the most of our
vacation from school by tobogganing down the hills overlooking the
marsh. I can especially remember my father and how his memory has never
left me. A vision of a quiet and gentle man sitting in the corner
smoking an Export cigarette and reading the paper. But, I guess of all
the visions of sugar plums that I carry in my heart, there is one above
all. There in the very center of all that's Christmas and family and
love, was my mother Vivian Canton, the very glue that held our family
together..
Many years later our mother was diagnosed with ALS. She fought that
disease the same way she tackled every other obstacle she faced in her
life, with strength and determination. She fought to the very end. All
I can say about the whole situation is that I wonder if it all happened
for a reason. Perhaps to teach those around us that life really is
precious and that we all should appreciate and enjoy sugar plums when
they come our way.
Todd Canton
Truro, Nova Scotia
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<br>
<div class="moz-text-html" lang="x-western"> <b><small>from the
Springhill Record Nov16, 2005</small><br>
<br>
COAL</b><br>
When a young Vivian Gillis left the town of Springhill, Nova Scotia in <br>
1948 to be married, she so looked forward to her new life, and yet
longed for <br>
home. The close knit ties of a coal mining family are carefully <br>
interwoven and uneasy to sever, perhaps due to a lot of pain and <br>
anguish. The kind of pain and anguish that goes along with the <br>
tragedies afforded coal mining families. <br>
<br>
The depth and darkness of the Cumberland Mine has been described over <br>
and over as the blackest of black, the loneliest of lonely and the <br>
coldest of cold. But it is with those above ground that the worry sets
<br>
in, and the waiting takes place. Everyday the miners dig a little
deeper,<br>
miles beneath the earth's crust.<br>
<br>
Vivian Gillis's father Dan and his brothers were all the men of the
deep <br>
mines. All bore the scars of this difficult and weary life. Most of <br>
them aged before their time, suffered illness later in life, but coal <br>
mining was in their blood. A hard old life for these resilient and <br>
valiant men. As Vivian Gillis and her husband Bert were in the process
<br>
of creating a family in Amherst, tragedy struck. Fully pregnant with
her <br>
fourth child, the news came from Springhill. November 1956, a <br>
devastating mine explosion. Vivian Gillis, beside herself with grief, <br>
waited for her husband to come home and safely deliver her to her
family. <br>
<br>
The drive from Amherst to Springhill is a beautiful one at the best of <br>
times but in the fall is it is just short of spectacular. The color of <br>
the leaves , the ones that hadn't fallen, were able to channel her <br>
thoughts back to her childhood and the many strolls she would take <br>
through the untouched forest. She could hear the familiar sound of the
train whistle. She could see herself as a child sitting among them at
the supper table. All of them big and strong and strapping men. Baked
beans with brown bread served with hot steeped tea and plenty of it.
The sound of love and laughter always filled the rooms...........and
then off to bed early because all were up before dawn. A little more
coal placed in the stove to keep the home warm. Coal, the same thing
that brought warmth and work to their home was the same thing that so
dangerously affected each and every one of them.<br>
<br>
It was the sound of the sirens broke her <br>
concentration and brought her back to reality. As they got closer and
<br>
closer to the town the traffic thickened. Cars, trucks, police, fire <br>
engines, ambulances. Dense smoke hung in the air and the stench of <br>
death was all about. This dreary vision of Springhill is one that <br>
Vivian Gillis would hold in her soul forever. Tragedy brings people
out <br>
in the streets. All met near the face of the mine. Doctors, miners, <br>
draegermen, business men and the intense and profound sound of
crying. <br>
Just as they were able to bring some to the surface word came that <br>
friends and family alike had lost someone dear. <br>
<br>
A cousin, an uncle, a friend, gone. Such is the life of a miner's <br>
family. Blood and bone is the price for coal, pain and suffering
linger <br>
in your soul. Vivian Gillis, like every other true Springhiller took <br>
the disaster in stride. She supported those who needed it, fed the <br>
families of the miners, opened her family home on Lisgar Street <br>
to those who needed a hot cup of tea or a place to lie down. <br>
She even sang songs with those whose souls required the comfort of
music. <br>
<br>
The media swarmed the town, support <br>
came from all over the world, and as families came together to say <br>
goodbye to the lost ones, Vivian Gillis went home to Amherst to have
her <br>
baby. Naturally upset by all that went on, Vivian suffered <br>
complications that sent her to the doctor. Blood pressure at an <br>
alarming rate might very well cause the death of her baby or even take <br>
her own life. So, she had to settle herself down. She did, and a few <br>
weeks later she held a baby girl in her arms.<br>
<br>
As life moved forward, Vivian and Bert and their four children lived a <br>
moderately quiet life. It was probably not their intention to have any
<br>
more children but a couple of years later there she was, full with <br>
child, 1958, when the underground bump shook the town of Springhill <br>
nearly upside down. This time 74 men were killed, the other 100 <br>
survived, some barely. Loved ones collected their beaten and broken
and <br>
the whole town mourned the losses together. This time the results were
<br>
devastating enough to make the decision to permanently close the mines.<br>
<br>
Again, there she was evident in her passion, full with child and ready
to serve.<br>
It wasn't an infringement on her part, it was a sincere obligation. <br>
When one thinks about the disasters that we, as a world community, have
<br>
had to face, it might be true that it produces some of the strongest
and <br>
most resilient people. I don't think anything compares to the souls of
<br>
the families of coal miners. Work, blood, sweat, worry, tears, death <br>
and more tears. Despite the obvious dangers involved, their abounds <br>
among them a true sense of the value of life, laughter and love. Those <br>
brave hard working men like Dan Gillis, his brothers Angus and Hughie, <br>
and sisters Francess Gillis, and Mary Soppa were determined to secure a
<br>
better life for their children, far from the darkness of the mines.
Dan <br>
Gillis didn't want Vivian to be a miner's wife. To him, there had to
be <br>
a better life outside the walls of Springhill and there was. <br>
<br>
She marched forward with a proud sense of who she really was,<br>
and when forced to face any kind of obstacles in her future,<br>
she was quick to rely upon those inward instincts of survival that were
<br>
permanently embedded on her soul. I should know,<br>
<br>
Vivian Gillis was, is, and always will be, my mother. Vivian Canton
(1927-1998)<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<b>SUGAR PLUMS</b><br>
<br>
When speaking about my mother I quite often start out by stating how
terribly intelligent she was. I often get a doubtful look or two, but
it is the truth. She was the smartest person I ever met in my life.
She was smarter than I was and that is saying something as I was
pretty slick as a child. It is said that I had the highest IQ at
Amherst Regional High School, but unfortunately for me I was the
laziest student there too.<br>
<br>
As a young woman my mother was tall and slender with coal black hair.
That is not the woman I remember. My mother was a tall, fat and
prematurely gray woman, with a sharp wit, an immense and insightful
personality and an amazing sense of humourous timing. Convinced?
Born to an unwed mother of Chinese descent and given up for adoption,
she learned right off the art of survivability. She was no quitter and
was sensible enough to see the path before her and as a result, made a
lot of good
choices. She met and married my father in Amherst and they made a life
together. It was a quiet and nice life until we, the kids, came
along. First our sister Joan, then Edith, Jack, Susan and a few years
later, Anne, Ruth and Todd. We all came with our own personalities and
quirks and in doing so filled that house on Russell Street with music
and laughter and love and war. Our mother became the center of our
universe and so, from there on, all we experienced in the big world, we
would run home to her, to share.<br>
<br>
When my mother was forty-three years old, she found herself in a
difficult situation. A mother of seven, she was also a widow. I don't
know yet how she kept things together but she managed to keep an
optimistic outlook on life. I often questioned her on this positive
attitude. She said it went back to her days growing up in a coal mining
family. Her father Dan Gillis was a miner like his father before him
and they lived a coal miner's life. Despite the hardships that they
faced every day, you still moved forward and the one thing you never
did was give up.. This fiery sense of determination was passed onto all
the Gillis children and as a result all seem to be upbeat and forward
looking people despite the bleakest moments of their lives.<br>
<br>
It was the first Christmas after our father had passed away that I was
able to view the strength that my mother, as a woman, possessed. We
were almost destitute financially but she was able to pull of a
successful Christmas. Not just that year, but every year. Looking
back it wasn't the toys, it was the tree. It wasn't the amount of
gifts, it was the gift of life and laughter. It wasn't the turkey
dinner as much as it was the gravy afforded, if you know what I mean?.
If I try to make a list of gifts that I received over the years I'm
afraid it might be a short one. Spirograph, a record player and Annie,
Anne Murray's 1972 LP. I can however, tell you about the Christmas
tree and how our mother always used too much garland. But my, how it
sparkled in the evenings. Those evenings when we would sit and sing.
I can recall the long table where she fashioned a Nativity scene
above and a valley below filled with tiny houses and deer and sheep and
cows. I can smell the scent of Red Rose tea steeping on the stove in
the kitchen. It was the taste of fruitcakes that Mary Soppa had
fashioned with her own gentle hands. I can recall Amherst winters
filled with snow blowing in from the Tantramar Marsh. I can remember
anticipating our sister Edith's return from school in Cape Breton and
the fear that we would not all be together if she wasn't there for the
holidays, especially since it was the first one without Dad there. I
can remember making the most of our vacation from school by tobogganing
down the hills overlooking the marsh. I can especially remember my
father and how his memory has never left me. A vision of a quiet and
gentle man sitting in the corner smoking an Export cigarette and
reading the paper. But, I guess of all the visions of sugar plums that
I carry in my heart, there is one above all. There in the very center
of all that's Christmas and family and love, was my mother Vivian
Canton, the very glue that held our family together..<br>
<br>
<br>
Many years later our mother was diagnosed with ALS. She fought that
disease the same way she tackled every other obstacle she faced in her
life, with strength and determination. She fought to the very end.
All I can say about the whole situation is that I wonder if it all
happened for a reason. Perhaps to teach those around us that life
really is precious and that we all should appreciate and enjoy sugar
plums when they come our way.<br>
<br>
Todd Canton<br>
Truro, Nova Scotia<br>
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