By Aubree Vecellio

May 5, 2024

 

Off Highway I-25 South in Pueblo, lies the Rocky Mountain Steel Mill. Though still in use, it is only a former shell of itself.  It was the first integrated steel mill west of the Mississippi River. Rail first came out of the plant in 1882. Operated by Colorado Fuel and Iron Company (CF&I), it would become the largest steel producer in the West. CF&I was Colorado’s largest employer up to the middle of the twentieth century.

As you continue south between Walsenburg and Trinidad, you pass a small patch of land with a large stone monument, marking the Ludlow Massacre of April 20, 1914. The Colorado National Guard and CF&I guards attacked about 10,000 miners under the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA), resulting in the deaths of twenty-five people, including eleven children. The land is filled with reminders of the miners and their families who lost their lives.

Finally, in Trinidad, where the history of the various mines once thrived, the Southern Colorado Miner Memorial lies west of Main Street. The Coal Miner’s Canary sits over the miners.

The history of these monuments is well known by the residents of Southern Colorado. However, the untold story is of those men who made the economic growth of Southern Colorado happen. Unfortunately, many of these men who have been mining since the first days of CF&I and have worked in most recent years have passed away. The miners who are left keep a close community of unbreakable friendships.

In spring 2024, I sat down with a few of these old-timers to hear their stories.

The open garage door where we chatter perfectly framed Fishers Peak.

Kelly Vecellio and Jeff Fleshman once worked together in the Golden Eagle in Weston, CO. It has been over twenty years since Jeff and Kelly have gotten together.

Golden Eagle not only employed people from Walsenburg to Raton, New Mexico, it provided metallurgical coal to Florida for a power plant. It was used for steel making but since it would run so hot and produced little ash, they eventually used it for power plants.

Jeff was born in Logan, West Virginia, where he grew up. His stepfather was affiliated with several mines around the West Virginia area. In 1976, Jeff attended Junior College in Pikeville, Kentucky, getting his degree in mining technology.

“I knew when I got out of college, I had no place to go except to work,” Jeff remarks.

Jeff started working in the mines as a roof bolter, a hazardous job that paid very well. “When I was underground, I learned to run equipment. If you wanted more money, somebody was off, I could do it! Whether you could or not, that’s where I learned to run the equipment.” It was during this time that Jeff met Kelly Vecellio.

Kelly was born and raised in Trinidad, Colorado. His father, Achilli Vecellio, worked in the mines across Las Animas County: Allen and Morley. With Achilli struggling with his health and the common black lung, he advised Kelly not to work in the mines. Kelly would go on to attend Trinidad State Junior College in 1970 and receive his degree in electronics. At the age of 28 in 1977, Kelly’s father-in-law, Tony Sebastinelli, recommended that Kelly start working in the mines.  Sebastinelli had worked in the Frederick and Allen mines.

Kelly started at the Allen and Maxwell mines, receiving certificates in management and safety administration. For the first few months at the Allen Mine, Kelly blew up the underground and laid down tracks for miners to move equipment deeper into the mine. Kelly was then promoted to electrical work. The Allen Mine produced coal for CF&I steel in Pueblo. Kelly then moved to the Maxwell mine in 1978 as a maintenance foreman and then became the electrical superintendent under CF&I. The Maxwell also produced coal for steel that was transported to Pueblo.

Jeff and Kelly reflect on the labor they had to endure. “It was a hard, laborious job. At the end of the day, you were worn out.”

“It wasn’t an eight-hour job. Not for us anyway,” Kelly chimes in. “It was a physically and mentally demanding job.”

Morley and Fredrick would continue to use coal carts and donkeys as means of transportation for the coal, while the Allen and Maxwell mines used more modern technology. They produced more product due to the use of the new machines.

Mining was never an easy job, the two men told me. As their careers advanced, they both came into high positions of authority.

“I commuted from Denver to Trinidad. Monday morning, at two o’clock work in Denver, and travel wherever they sent me. It turned into a good job because I got to see every mining condition possible west of the Mississippi. You met the most wonderful people on the planet, and you met the meanest people on the planet. And you had to deal with it, but that’s just the way of life.”

I asked these two gentlemen what the hardest experience was they had to deal with as a miner, and their words were heartbreaking.

Jeff starts. “Talking to the victim’s spouses. It’s terrible. That was the most difficult, humbling, heartbreaking. I’m going to cry because it’s tough. The worst one for me was a guy got killed on a surface mine. He dropped a charge on a string. One pound chuck of dynamite they were dropping down a hole. He dropped it. A cartridge bottle the size of a pop can, and underneath it was the igniter. It was a blank 22, not the safest type of explosive. He went to catch it ’cause he knew what could happen. It got out of his hand and went all the way to the bottom of the hole. It hit perfectly and went off. His hand was still in the hole went the dynamite hit the bottom. It just shredded him, just…just. I had to talk to the wife, and she said ‘I just bought him a St. Christopher, I know he was wearing it. Can you find his necklace?’ I had to go dig by myself, I had the authority. I went up there and I dug through everything, everything. I did find the necklace in the drill cuttings. I looked everywhere and didn’t find the St. Christopher, but I found the necklace. On my own, nobody knew. I went up after hours. I gave it to her and said, ‘Ma’am this is all I could find’. You don’t tell them about the other stuff. That was very tough.”

Kelly speaks about his own experience. “I think the worst for me was Franky Perko. Franky and I had worked 14 hours that day at Golden Eagle. I left, went to church, and came back and Franky was coming back up again. Someone had dumped all kinds of cinder blocks on the slopes. So Franky had to load them all up, and he had them all loaded by the time I got back up. I said, ‘Are you okay?’ and he said, ‘Yeah I’m going to go shower and go home.’ I said, ‘Yeah okay, I’m going home.’ So I went home, and I was sleeping, and somebody called me and told me what happened to Franky. He was in the car; the door was open, and he had passed right there in his car. Then I had to go to church and give an epilog about Franky. Never in my life. I thought, “I can’t do this; I can’t do this.” Everyone was saying ‘Yeah you can’. It was tough.” Kelly says all this with a sad voice. Both men on the brink of tears.

I asked one final question and received an answer that I was not expecting. “How would you like miners to be remembered in Colorado history?”

Jeff’s answer, “Yes.”

“Yes, I do. The state is eliminating the history of mining. I think it should be a monument to miners.  For example, if you go up by Trinidad Lake, a remnant of mining is Cokedale, the slak. How much labor did it take to make that pile? Men worked hard to create that, and that was just the reject to get the coal. The lake to Sopris, the mining camp is gone. The slate dump was over there, two, or three years ago. The state decided it was a hazard, so they eliminated it. It’s uglier now just as it was as a monument, the slak pile was a monument. It wasn’t hurting anybody. The state came and cleaned it up. Over at South Field, there’s a great big slate dump. The state now is saying, ‘We need to remove it’. It has been here since I first lived here. There’s no heat in it, there’s no sulfur. It makes me mad that there’s no monument to honor the laborers who helped build this country. You had to have coal to build steel. You had to have iron to build steel. You had to have limestone to build steel. Steel is the main manufacturer and there are no monuments. Nothing. The state’s taking them down. I’m thankful they kept Cokedale, it’s a state monument now. My issue about it is that everyone is on that interstate. Yes, you have Ludlow, terrible thing. You go to the visitor center, there are no pamphlets about coal mining. None about our history. It’s just not advertised the way it should be. No real monuments at these mines and slak piles. Trinidad is a coal camp. Raton was a coal camp. What created this town? Coal. Where I grew up coal was king. Everything. What did railroads do, haul coal. It’s very upsetting that the state is taking all of it out.”

From Pueblo to Trinidad, the whole of Southern Colorado is disregarded by the state and those who live in Colorado. I hope that, in the future, the entirety of the state realizes how important Southern Colorado and coal mining are to the history of Colorado. Many men and women, like William Massarotti in Figure 3, still work in the mines of Trinidad. Continuing to produce coal and steel for the United States. As I mentioned, many of these miners have passed away, and their stories with them. The reality is that the history of coal mining in Colorado might die with them.

I urge those who may read this to take a trip to Pueblo, Walsenburg, Trinidad, or any town in Southern Colorado. Go to the museums and understand what these men and women went through to build these communities for those who traveled across states and even countries to come to these coal towns to build a life in America. Local and state governments should hear stories like Jeff’s and Kelly’s about how important the mining community is and how even the little remembrance of a mine can hold so much history.