In heart of coal country, voters still dig Trump
MADISON, WEST VIRGINIA— The Appalachian Mountains, silhouetted against aacobalt blue sky, are swathed in morning mist. Eternally serene.
Venture down into the hidden hollers and there’s a decent chance of stumbling across a meth lab — hillbilly heroin.
Which is arguably the only local industry that hasn’t fallen into an economic abyss as deep as the coal mines that once studded West Virginia. From the second-largest coal-producing state in America to, now, the highest rate of drug abuse in America.
And in the valley, along the Little Coal River, it’s this entire town that is dying.
Yet still Trump country — unabashedly, unapologetically — where Rust Belt meets vilified black carbon.
Was a time when coal was king here and everybody benefitted from the boom, succeeding generations descending into the pits straight out of high school, because the jobs were plentiful and profitable, high-paying. There was a distinct sense of pride in being a coal miner. Rugged people emerging into daylight with sootsoiled faces.
“My grandfather literally came from nothing,” says Jerry Bias. “He worked in the mines and became a foreman and then had a chance to start his own business.” As a subcontractor for the local mining companies. “And died a millionaire.”
From father to son to grandson. Bias himself spent 45 years in the mines. “It was ingrained in us. We weren’t afraid of it. Just the way logging is in the northwest. People think mining is a dangerous industry but you grow up with it. And we were good at it, did the job safely, had a fine reputation across the country.”
Back when there were at least 50 mines locally. Today there are five.
Environmental regulations on emissions from coal-fired power plants, plunging prices for fossil fuels, the rising popularity of cheap natural gas — extensive fracking north of here — and the Obama-regime commitment to renewable resources all put the boot to coal. Countless mines were shuttered, miners laid off by the thousands. Few from outside pitied the coal miners, viewed as culpable relics from a down and dirty era.
But four years ago, along came Donald Trump, with a promise: “I will bring back coal. Clean, beautiful coal.”
The miners believed him. Or at least, they wanted desperately to believe him, seduced into visualizing a second coming for coal. Trump was their hero. West Virginians voted for Trump 68.5 per cent, the largest share of the vote for Trump in any state of the union and are expected to go back down that pit again next week, if not by so dominating a margin.
Except, apart from a minor uptick last year when a few mines reopened, coal never rallied. Nationally, employment at coal mines fell to 73,969 halfway through 2019, from 76,000 at the end of 2018 and 110,000 a decade ago, according to Labor Department statistics. It’s expected to decline by more than 10 per cent this year. Mining output last year fell to its lowest level since 1978, while energy consumption from natural sources outpaced coal for the first time since 1885, when wood accounted for the majority of U.S. energy consumption.
Bias doesn’t blame Trump for a promise unkept. The president did, many point out, roll back regulations imposed by Barack Obama. In fact, Trump boasts that he’s cut more regulations than any other president in history and that might actually be a truthful declaration.
Bias’ lip almost curls when he speaks of Obama. “His big thing was to stop coal. The very first thing that he did was stop a surface mine about 15 miles north of here that had spent five, six years getting all the proper regulatory authorizations. They had the permit in their hand and overnight he took it away from them.”
No coal. No jobs. Families leaving Madison — hundreds have departed. Impacting schools, impacting the tax base, certainly impacting all the businesses that rippled out of the coal seams.
“OK, you want to do something cleaner? Fine,” Bias continues. “But why would you come into an area that depends on coal and say, nope, you’re not going to do this anymore, see ya. None of these politicians brought jobs in to replace the ones that were taken away.”
Which brings Bias to the subject of Joe Biden. “I don’t think he’s right in the head. Seriously, he can’t remember things. Is that someone you’d want in the Oval Office?”
His wife, Gaye – “I’m a coalminer’s daughter” — offers an obstinate defence of Trump, “I like his business sense,” even as she notes how down on its heels Madison has become. The bakery has closed. The pharmacy has closed. The Mexican restaurant down the street has closed. Almost every other shop on the main strip has gone out of business or has a for-sale sign in the window.
“You wouldn’t believe how busy this sweet little town used to be when I was growing up,” she recalls with a dreamy nostalgia. You’d have to keep driving round and round to find a parking spot.”
At Danville, on the opposite side of the train tracks — there’s a coal train sitting there at the moment — a clutch of residents have come to the Handley Funeral Home to say farewell to a former deputy sheriff. Funeral homes, of course, aren’t much affected by an economic downturn. People always need burying.
Paying his respects was Michael Mayhorn, emergency management director for Boone County, where the population was 25,000 in the 2010 census but has declined by about 5,000 residents since then.
“We need jobs. When I started in 2008, we had 108 active coal mines in this county. Today there’s five. Some have popped up here and there. We’ve lost thousands of jobs. Our county budget has gone from $35 million a year to barely $5 million a year. We’ve cut services, we’ve cut employees, everything we can to try to make ends meet.”
Back again across the tracks, Dan Bender has just managed to hang on to his hair salon, Cuts ’n’ Styles, though he’s looking to sell the building, which he’s owned for 15 years. “I’m going to take a big loss, won’t get anywhere near what it’s worth.”
Bender worked in the mines for nearly two decades, until he got laid off. “Went into the mine straight out of high school. If you didn’t go to college, you worked in the mines. Made good money too. It all looked so promising back then and it was for a long time. This town used to be packed with people. I know five families that have left in the last month.”
Hasn’t helped that a new blacktop, Route 119 — formally, the Robert C. Byrd Freeway, named for the late West Virginia Democratic senator, more than half a century in the Senate, and once a member of the Ku Klux Klan — has encouraged locals to make the half-hour drive into Charleston, for the Walmart and other big stores, abandoning Madison businesses.
Much to his chagrin, Bender’s own son became a miner and is among the fortunate who still have a job. “I tried to talk him out of it but he dropped out of college and went underground,” Bender sighs.
The 63-year-old used to be a Democrat. “I turned in the last election. Just couldn’t agree with where the Democratic party was going. Don’t believe in abortion, don’t believe in same-sex marriage.”
Soon, Bender hopes to relocate to Tennessee where his daughter lives. But he’ll take part of the mines with him. “I’ve got black lung disease. There’s no cure for it.”
At the lovely old library — not 300 yards from where “The Hanging Tree” once stood; literally, criminals were hanged there — Vonna Legg offers a spirited defence of Trump.
“He was just what the country needed — a true patriot,” argues the 55-year-old library cataloguer. “He’s helped our veterans by funding their hospitals. Obama never even wore the American flag pin on his lapel, didn’t put his hand over his heart for the national anthem.”
Legg sniffs at the very mention of Hillary Clinton’s name. “She called us deplorables, people like me.”
In Trump, Legg sees a leader who knows what he’s doing. “He has a great business sense and he brought back the economy, though it’s slipped again because of COVID-19. Everybody’s trying to blame him for the pandemic but what was he supposed to do? He’s not responsible.” Wear a mask maybe? “Some people think they work, some people don’t,” Legg counters.
Indeed, not a single person was spotted wearing a mask in Madison on Wednesday.
Legg is further worried that the Democrats, if Biden wins, will step on her Second Amendment rights to possess weapons. “I’m a widow who lives alone. I need to protect myself. Got a couple of handguns, a shotgun …”
At the nearby Southern Fitness, 82-year-old Betsy White is preparing to step aboard the treadmill. She’s already voted — for Biden. “He seems such a decent man, don’t you think? That Trump, well, I wouldn’t call him decent at all. Some of the things that come out of his mouth, my goodness.”
Brenda Bender, proprietor with her husband of a pawnshop and sporting goods store —“We Pawn Guns ’n Much More” announced the sign out front — tends to agree with that assessment of the president. But she’s voting for him anyway.
“I’m not really into politics, but I trust Trump. I believe he understands how small towns like this have suffered economically, especially since COVID. He kept saying that the economy had to reopen and he was right. People like us, we couldn’t afford to close down. Also, my husband and I thought we owed it to the town, to stay open, because people who weren’t working had to pawn a lot of their possessions.”
One person who didn’t vote for Trump — loathes the man with a passion — and has already submitted his ballot for Biden is Harvey Silas, 21 years in the U.S. air force, a mailman after that, now retired at 72.
“Trump is an idiot. He has thrown the country into so much trouble. All about himself, that guy, and his rich friends. Tax cuts for the rich, nothing for the middle class, nothing for the working class. Says he brought the economy back, but it was already there under Obama.
“His best friend is Russia. And he’s got business deals in China. He even wanted to move the British Open to his golf course and rename it. The things he’s said about women and refusing to call out white supremacists.
“And he lied to us about coal. Coal ain’t ever coming back.”
“I will bring back coal. Clean, beautiful coal.” PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP 2016 CAMPAIGN PROMISE