We are fortuante enough that Larry Durdines shared his memories of growing up at Williamstown with us: "I grew up in Williamstown, born in the house that my grandfather built in the 1920's. Williamstown was a great place to grow up. I can remember 5 or 6 boxy little Baldwin S2's hooked together pulling trains through Williamstown as we played baseball on the field behind the company store. The Sharks were my favorite, very shiny black and the toothy MRy grin under the nose. I wasn't very good at baseball even though my father was the coach, but I remember the trains. We called the area across from the mine Upcreek and next to the swinging bridge Shantytown . In the late 50's early 60's no one lived there anymore and the last to live there were mostly Black people. There were a few foundations showing, some sidewalks and a broken lumber laying around that we kids used to fuel fires for all night fishing parties. In the summer this overgrown area would produce rose bushes that would burst with huge flowers. Even as a kid I thought it was kind of sad - all the bright red roses returning and the people so long gone now. It's a sewage plant now. There were plans at one time to build the railroad to Marianna by way of along the north bank of the north branch of Ten Mile Creek. That would have brought it right along the edge of my yard. Our company store was large and modern. Everything could be bought there - clothes, food, hardware, gasoline ( Gulf ). I once even saw Aunt Jemima making pancakes there on a PR tour. You could only get 2 cartons of cigarettes at a time on credit because miners would trade them for drinks at the bars in town. There was a branch of the Fredericktown bank there beside it. Our home was built by my grandfather and was between the patch and the north fork of the creek. When asked how it was we came to have a fine big frame house, large porch and outbuildings, even a small barn, my Aunt said her father always saved his money, never drank and was then able to afford to build. They kept chickens and a cow which would have been hard to do in a patch house. The Black miners, and a few whites, lived on the hill above town. Some of the streets and most of the alleys were unpaved up there as opposed to the patch down below. I'm going to guess there were 30 some Black families living in more or less identical brick patch homes. It strikes me now that must have been the company's plan when they built those houses on the hill, away from the "white" patch . Between the patch and the hill there was a Black church (Church Of The Living God) and the singing was wonderful . It was like most of America at the time, "separate but equal". One black man lived in a house across the road from us and his wife was a white lady and though it seemed to be frowned on, it was never discussed or criticized. He had a rambling building of corrugated steel where he worked on cars and machinery. He was known as Blacksmith because thats what he did. Black and white were all taught respect each for other and there was never any trouble over race . Men working side by side in the mine was somewhat of an equalizing influence. Many were fast friends. When a miner died at work, whether by accident or natural causes, a good friend of that man would bring his hat, bucket and other personal effects to the deceased's family. When my father died of a heart attack in Clyde, it was a black man who brought my Dad's gear to our house after work that day. The school, attended by all, was there also, a huge two story frame building. Mr. Blackburn was the principal. He was tall and gaunt, wore rusty black suits and was very stern. On the playground he would blow his nose between thumb and finger, and we kids were amazed by that . He walked the tracks from Fredericktown every day and only rode the school bus in the most severe weather. Big events were Mitchell day - a miner's holiday with speeches, patriotic and Union readings and talent shows. Very popular were church picnics. St Thomas's had gambling and beer and whiskey and all the young and old miners would be out in white shirts, standing under the trees at makeshift counters and drinking. The priest used to go to the bars and have a few beers with the other men occasionally. That was much admired by them. There were 5 very busy bars and a couple speakeasies in Williamstown and Clarksville alone. Since the patch was built there was always baseball behind the company store in the shadow of the slate dumps. I never heard the words 'gob pile' used by miners. In 1960 we had four teams of Little League players just from Clarksville, Williamstown, Besco and Pitt Gas. The older guys had a Pony League team. Besco had old coke ovens and I remember several being lived in by retired miners. We laughed about that as kids. The slate dumps smoldered and we never walked on them. Indeed some had spots that smoked and glowed a dull red year round."

Sources:

Washlaski., Raymond A. Washlaski, Ryan P. “Virtual Museum of Coal Mining in Western Pennsylvania.” TLC Pu patheoldminer.rootsweb.ancestry.com/.

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