2020: A Tough Year Filled With Fascinating Stories of Resilience

It’s been a long and fascinating year for most of us, and that includes our reporting staff. We have sought to shine a fair and focused spotlight on stories of interest in our region. From the statehouse to the courthouse, to the environment and other crucial issues, our work has been dedicated to not only informing but also educating, a part of our broader mission in public media.

As we turn a corner after a difficult 2020, we plan to continue our passionate commitment to showcasing your world with open hearts and fresh eyes — every day. We appreciate your listening, reading and viewing — and we urge you to support the strong journalism at West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Take a glimpse below as our news staff speaks about themselves and their “Best of 2020” stories.

– Andrea Billups, director of news and public affairs.

Sydney Boles
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Ohio Valley Resource
Robert E. Murray, the former CEO and president of the now-bankrupt Murray Energy, has filed an application with the U.S. Department of Labor for black lung benefits. For years, Murray and his company fought against federal mine safety regulations aimed at reducing the debilitating disease.

One day while working in my home office in late September, I got a direct message on Twitter from someone I didn’t know. The person said they had something I should take a look at. There were promises of it being a big scoop.

‘Sure,’ I thought to myself. To be honest, I get so many people that tease with comments like that (as I’m sure all reporters do) that I didn’t think much of it. I agreed to answer the phone when they called, though.

The person on the other end of the line said former Murray Energy CEO Bob Murray had applied for the black lung benefits. Along with that, they pointed out, he had fought federal mine-safety regulations aimed to reduce the disease — and, like other coal companies, fought miners’ claims for benefits.

Despite not being much focused on the energy industry, I was rather familiar with him. The musical from “Last Week Tonight” with John Oliver immediately came to mind.
The source of this information sent over screenshots of his claim. In confidence, I showed them to trusted reporter-friends of mine, including retired NPR investigative reporter Howard Berkes (who had done award-winning reporting on black lung disease). At the same time, I took what I had learned to Brittany Patterson, who at the time was on the energy and environment beat for WVPB and the Ohio Valley ReSource.

Given OVR managing editor Jeff Young’s extensive history reporting on the energy industry — and even Murray himself — Brittany and I took the story to him. But we all questioned the authenticity of what we had. We needed to independently verify the claim documents. If the documents were fabricated, it would be an elaborate, laborious hoax. Still yet, we needed to verify what we had. Luckily, we were able to do that quickly by punching in information associated with his claim into a U.S. Department of Labor online portal.

Then it came time to call Murray, who was rumored to not be well (he had often been seen in public with an oxygen tank). My heart sank a bit when I called the first time and his wife answered the phone and told me he was with a hospice worker and I should call back in 10 minutes.

When I did call back, Mr. Murray confirmed he had black lung (which ran counter to what he told NPR a year earlier) and had applied for benefits. But, he refused to go on the record and I didn’t roll tape of the conversation.

 

He threatened to sue me and the outlet I work for. I remember telling him repeatedly that I just wanted to give him an opportunity to speak for himself and discuss his reasons for applying for the benefits and talk about other issues related to black lung.
Murray died in late October. It remains unknown if his wife, as a beneficiary, will receive the black lung benefits.

— Dave Mistich, senior reporter

Fifty years ago, on November 14, 1970, a plane carrying 75 members of the Marshall University football team, boosters and community leaders crashed on approach to Huntington Tri-State airport, killing everyone on board.The crash changed the university as the students and faculty grieved. The accident also changed the city of Huntington, and the relationship between the university and the town as well.

My favorite story of 2020 was the story on the 50th anniversary of the Marshall University plane crash. This story was important to me for a couple reasons. The crash happened 50 years ago, when I was just three years old, but it allowed me the chance to tell a story that has influenced life at the university and in the city of Huntington since Nov. 14, 1970. It is a human story about devastating tragedy and a triumphant return.

The second reason was the story was a cooperative effort between West Virginia Public Broadcasting and GOLDENSEAL Magazine. We were able to tell the story on radio and a longer, more detailed version in the magazine. For me, that speaks to the future of long-form journalism.

—— Eric Douglas, Inside Appalachia producer and reporter

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When the Coronavirus pandemic was declared in March, it created new challenges for single parents deemed essential, especially when day cares shut down. Jessica Lilly spoke with working moms coping with this reality to get a sense of what they’re up against.

The story of these women living in this pandemic inspired me. I could relate to their pain, fears, stress and joy. I think when a story can bring out several emotions, it makes it more human and builds more connections in our communities. The story reminded me that we all feel pain in the same way but there is always something to smile about and be thankful for. Plus, I love getting to know the people in my community and this was a chance to do that.

I love journalism because I believe that storytelling can make a difference.

— Jessica Lilly, Southern West Virginia reporter

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Did West Virginia inspire the John Denver Song “Take Me Home, County Roads?” The song is one of the things people across the globe connect with West Virginia. But there’s a debate about whether the song was really even written about the state. This year marks the 50th anniversary for the song.

When we put a call out on social media earlier this year, asking folks to share their stories about John Denver’s “Country Roads,” we were flooded with messages. This was a story our new co-host for Inside Appalachia, Mason Adams, suggested we look into, after seeing a comment thread on social media discussing whether the song is truly about West Virginia, or Virginia.

In this story, we hear one of the songwriters, Bill Danoff, tell his interpretation in his own words. And people share how the song has touched their lives. This is a song that’s taken on a folklore-type mythology that’s difficult to sum up in one radio feature. But it was certainly fun to try.

—— Roxy Todd, producer, Inside Appalachia

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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Normally Robert Villamagna would be in his art studio in Wheeling, West Virginia, hammering out old metal pieces from children’s toys, chip cans and…

One of my favorite stories of the year was my Q&A with Wheeling artist Robert Villamagna. I met Robert in the summer of 2019 to report a story on his artwork for our Inside Appalachia folkways project. Robert uses found objects (specifically flattened metal from old items like coffee cans or chip cans). I followed him around a flea market in Eastern Ohio for the story – it was a real hoot!

Sadly, Robert contracted COVID-19 this summer and was hospitalized twice. But he was kind enough to speak with me about his experience. I think he so eloquently summed up just how bad and how real this virus is. I can happily report Robert is recovered now and back to creating art.

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Before the pandemic hit, our Inside Appalachia team was planning a reporting trip to Wales as part of our ongoing folkways project, as the country has a…

As part of our folkways project we had been planning a reporting trip to Wales. Obviously, when the pandemic hit, our plans were turned upside down. So I decided to still do some reporting remotely with the contacts I had made.

This story features Peter Stevenson, a Welsh storyteller with West Virginia connections. He wrote a storybook about the Welsh migration to Appalachia hundreds of years ago. Peter actually came to Morgantown in 2019 to host an Appalachian/Welsh art exhibit and we interviewed him back then. This story tells the history of the connection between Wales and Appalachia through story and music. Ailsa Hughes is the featured Welsh musician – in non-COVID times she accompanied Peter in his live storytelling of the Wales and Appalachian folktales.

—— Caitlin Tan, co-host, Inside Appalachia and reporter

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On Monday, two county school boards struck down the state’s first application to establish a public charter school. The proposed program, dubbed West Virginia Academy, would have been located in Morgantown and served Mongonalia and Preston counties, focusing on academic achievement across K-12 classrooms, including an International Baccalaureate curriculum.

I think we can all agree, 2020 has been a gut punch. On a personal level, 2020 started out as a new decade with mountains of opportunity. I had been planning my wedding for May and a honeymoon in Disney World in the fall. Both saw some changes so we could keep our loved ones safe. But in February, just before the world flipped upside down, I celebrated my bridal shower with friends and family, and none of us could’ve guessed how things would change just one month later.

I began the new year working in Charleston on our television program The Legislature Today. We finished it up in March, and I headed back home to the Eastern Panhandle. One week into being home, BOOM, Gov. Jim Justice said all of West Virginia’s K-12 schools would be closed and students would attend school from home.

Our newsroom rallied to begin calling school systems all over the state to see what these counties were doing to ensure students were still being fed while brick-and-mortar buildings were closed and how they were still learning. This was the starting point to a long, arduous journey reporting on a pandemic. We tackled it as a team and supported each other when things got scary. And even though we had our own personal challenges, we continued to report how West Virginians were handling this extraordinary time in human history.

I wasn’t in the education beat yet at the start of the pandemic, but from the moment it began, I found myself doing many education-related stories, whether it was about fun ways to learn safely during the pandemic or how the job landscape was evolving for new college grads. It wasn’t too long before Andrea Billups, our news director, tapped me to take on this role. I was honored.

For my Best of 2020 story, I’ve chosen a more recent education story I’ve written. I choose it though, because it required me to do extensive reporting, researching and following of an issue that has garnered heated debate in recent years. My piece on the first attempt at a charter school in West Virginia was a challenging and interesting story, and I’m certain it will be an issue that will come up during the 2021 West Virginia Legislative session.

It’s this kind of dedicated reporting, whether following a contentious issue like charter schools or reporting on the challenges a school counselor is facing as he or she juggles social, emotional support to students, teachers AND parents during a pandemic — this is what makes journalism so important. We reach out to learn about the issues that matter most to people in our state. We strive to tell a story that breaks down the issues so they’re easy to understand, and we have a mission to communicate both sides so that our listeners and readers can form their own opinions and ideas.

We need journalists, especially now during this deep political divide, to help us sift through what’s what with compassion and thoughtfulness.

—— Liz McCormick, education and Eastern Panhandle reporter

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A global public health crisis in the form of an invisible virus, now officially divides us from each other. We’ve learned to call it ‘social distancing.’ But the coronavirus is creating or reopening many layers between us and them.

At the beginning of 2020, the Us & Them team — the show that tells the stories about the things that divide Americans — had planned to focus on issues crucial to rural West Virginians — health care, education and economic development.

Early in the year, we reported on how West Virginia families had been stressed, fractured and divided over the state’s pernicious substance abuse epidemic: Grandfamilies Of The Opioid Crisis. This was followed with two hopeful stories about economic recovery efforts in the Upper Kanawha Valley — Upriver Battle: Two Mayors Join Forces to Revive Their Rural Small Towns Against All Odds and The Connector.

Then, COVID hit.

Like everyone else in the world, our team’s work was turned upside down. Many of the programs that we had in production didn’t make sense in the age of a global pandemic. We had to take time to reset, find a new way of producing work that reflected the “new normal” and that we could accomplish while maintaining safety for ourselves and the people we interviewed. We embarked on what would become a series of episodes called “Forced Apart,” to investigate new social fault lines from the coronavirus.

The first in our series was Forced Apart: A Virus Creates New Divides, which looked at divisions between essential and remote workers and at the varied government responses. We looked at the history of pandemics to gauge what might lay ahead. We created fresh approaches to gather audio adhering to safety requirements since we were unable to capture live sound or hold face-to-face interviews.

After this episode, we began to see that the pandemic amplified many of the challenges West Virginia faced before COVID-19. Us & Them continued to examine how the pandemic was “forcing West Virginians further apart.”

Forced Apart: Same Pandemic, Unequal Education spotlighted West Virginia’s education system and how the lack of reliable broadband connectivity cut some students off from distance learning.

We produced several “Forced Apart” episodes on new challenges for the Mountain State’s health care system. The ‘Delicate and Crazy Dance’ of American Healthcare explored how the pandemic exposed West Virginia’s vulnerability in caring for rural residents; Shadow Pandemic examined how COVID-19 interrupted West Virginia’s systems for mental healthcare and substance abuse treatment.

The Us & Them team also explored how the pandemic has affected the regional economy with the programs An Ailing Economy: Is Workforce Training the Cure? and How Can The Economy Rebound Without Safe, Reliable Child Care?

With COVID-19 vaccination deliveries, we enter a new chapter. The Us & Them team will continue to explore where the virus creates fresh divides and how we heal them.

— Trey Kay, host and producer, Us & Them

First Attempt At Charter School Fails In West Virginia, A Year After Law Passed

On Monday, two county school boards struck down the state’s first application to establish a public charter school. The proposed program, dubbed West Virginia Academy, would have been located in Morgantown and served Mongonalia and Preston counties, focusing on academic achievement across K-12 classrooms, including an International Baccalaureate curriculum.

School boards in Monongalia and Preston counties, however, unanimously rejected the charter proposal, saying the application did not meet 7 out of the 10 evaluation criteria required in the proposal process.

Board members pointed to a lack of demand and support from local families based on a social media survey West Virginia Academy conducted that found less than 1 percent of families in the two counties supported establishing a charter school. They also said the goal and vision for the proposed charter is a mission already being met by traditional public schools in the area. Board members said West Virginia Academy provided an unclear outline of operations, governance, a financial model, and how specifically curriculum would be taught, among other concerns. They pointed to a lack of wraparound services identified for students and no clear explanation of what digital devices, such as iPads or Chromebooks, would be available to students.

Overall, board members turned the proposal down due to a lack of clear, detailed strategies and timelines of how the school would be run and how funding would be distributed.

“There were just a lot of holes for me in this application as to how all those needs were going to be met,” said Monongalia County Board President Nancy Walker. “Over the years, as board members, we’ve spent a lot of time talking about the different learning methods needed to connect with different students, and this seems to rely basically on one delivery model, and I was very concerned about that.”

In an email to West Virginia Public Broadcasting, West Virginia Academy President John Treu expressed disappointment in the decision by the two boards and said his proposal was “based on applications from schools that went on to become some of the top public schools in the country.”

He also claims that, under state law, the application has already been deemed approved because of a period of inaction by the combined boards of Monongalia and Preston counties. In an email, however, from the West Virginia Department of Education, the WVDE told West Virginia Public Broadcasting that the two boards had until Nov. 30 to make a decision on the charter school proposal, which they met.

Treu said he plans to contact the WVDE about his concerns over the application process. He said he thinks “the decision for whether a charter school opens should be up to the parents in [that] community as opposed to a panel of district-level bureaucrats.”

A spokesperson from the state department of education said decisions by the county boards are “final.”

How Did We Get Here?

After years of heated debate, in 2019, Gov. Jim Justice signed the state’s first public charter school law, following in the footsteps of 44 other states nationwide and the District of Columbia, according to the National Charter School Resource Center.

West Virginia’s law works this way: up to three public charter schools can be established between now and 2023 with an opportunity for more after that.

Proposals first start at the county board of education level, which act as that proposed charter school’s authorizer, and then the proposal moves on to the West Virginia Department of Education for consideration.

To be approved, charters must meet requirements laid out by the West Virginia Board of Education Policy 3300 and follow the West Virginia Standard Public Charter School Application process.

What Is West Virginia Academy?

John Treu moved to Morgantown with his family about five years ago. He and his wife Heidi were originally from Utah and Nevada respectively, but they moved around — New York, Washington D.C., Maryland and now West Virginia. Both are educators.

Heidi taught middle school science and health in traditional public schools and one charter school. She now homeschools their six children. John teaches accounting at West Virginia University.

“We’ve experienced a lot of different school systems,” John Treu said. “And [we’ve] seen some of the strengths and weaknesses of those individual systems.”

Listen to the original story, which aired ahead of the vote on Nov. 30, 2020.
Listen to the original story, which aired ahead of the vote on Nov. 30, 2020.

The Treus hoped to open the state’s first public charter school in Morgantown, called West Virginia Academy. Most charter schools, according to the National Alliance of Public Charter Schools, are nonprofits. Treu’s school would be the same. Under the West Virginia law, it would have a governing board made up of local parents and residents with expertise in primary, secondary, and higher education as well as finance, law and accounting.

All charter schools are public schools that aim to offer teachers flexibility in how curriculum is delivered. Oftentimes charters emphasize certain fields like engineering or performing arts.

Treu said he wanted to establish a charter school in West Virginia for two reasons: he thinks the current public model in the state gives too much money to administrators as opposed to student resources and teachers, and he wants to improve student achievement.

“We have extremely high graduation rates, but really low student outcomes,” he said. “Which suggests that not very much is being expected of our students. We believe that students will respond to greater rigor and higher expectations.”

According to the U.S. Department of Education, West Virginia’s graduation rate was at least 90 percent or higher in 2018 — above the national average, which was 85 percent. According to federal data from 2019, West Virginia’s 8th graders ranked below average on math and reading scores. The last available reading and math score data from the Nation’s Report Card for 12th graders in West Virginia was available in 2013. Both scores from that year were also below the national average.

The state’s overall ACT test scores for the class of 2020, however, were just above the national average but fell short in the mathematics score.

In a release from the West Virginia Department of Education last year, the West Virginia Higher Education Policy Commission reported 52.6 percent of West Virginia students enrolled in in-state institutions of higher education in fall 2018. That same year, 41 percent of students continued their education to achieve advanced credentials or certifications, joined the workforce or enrolled in the military upon graduation.

Treu is hoping West Virginia Academy can tackle some of the issues seen in West Virginia’s K-12 education system. His school would be open to any student who applied, and after it reaches capacity, future applications would be placed into a lottery system. In the first year, the school would offer grades kindergarten through 8th grade with the goal of expanding to K-12 over a five-year period and max capacity of 1,420 students.

“That’s really the allure to it,” he said. “We have the flexibility to maximize student outcomes and pursue optimizing student outcomes in a way that we believe is appropriate, and that the data suggests is superior to the way it’s being done currently in public schools.”

The primary school, Treu said, would offer a curriculum called Core Knowledge. His goal is to focus on bolstering foundational knowledge in core subjects, including language arts, history and geography, and science.

According to the creators of the program, “the Core Knowledge approach puts knowledge at the heart of schooling and details to teachers a clear grade-by-grade sequence of what students need to know in each grade.”

For the middle school years, West Virginia Academy would offer the International Baccalaureate Middle Years program, called IB. For the high school years, the school would follow the IB Diploma program, which is academically rigorous and internationally recognized by higher education institutions worldwide.

The school would be subject to the same regulations as traditional public schools in West Virginia specifically as it relates to safety and needs for students with disabilities, Treu said. But otherwise, administrative costs, salaries and how they deliver content is up to the governing board to decide.

If student achievement doesn’t show improvement, charter schools, unlike traditional public schools that are rarely closed over low achievement, are given a warning to fix it or face closure.

Since West Virginia Academy would be designated as a public charter school, it would be funded by public, or state, dollars.

But it’s that issue that’s drawn the most concern from those in opposition.

Charters Versus Traditional Public Schools

In October, Treu held a public forum in Morgantown on his proposed charter school, and he was met with a rally against it. Morgantown High School art teacher Sam Brunett was there.

“When the governor called that special session [to consider charter school legislation] after two strikes against charter schools, I think we all knew in Monongalia County, this would be one of the first places they attempted a charter school, and lo and behold, here we are tonight,” Brunett said from behind a podium outside University High School.

Brunett is also the president of the American Federation of Teachers chapter in Monongalia County.

Like many teacher union supporters around the nation, Brunett is staunchly opposed to charter schools and argues they would take money away from traditional public schools instead of focusing more resources on improving the state’s current education system, which he describes as deprived and struggling.

“[This is] funneling away money from an already deprived education system and giving it to basically a private institution,” he said. “We’re adamantly against that type of procedure. We’re looking at upwards of $11 million to be siphoned from Monongalia County Schools after this [charter] school is established all the way. What happens to our existing schools when those types of things happen? We see programs like art, band, our physical education, sports, all those things are just the first thing to go.”

Brunett is not alone in his concerns. Dale Lee, president of the West Virginia Education Association filed an “intent to sue” after the legislation to allow charters was signed by the governor.

Lee said the state constitution demands that every child, no matter their background, be given the right to a free, public education. He’s concerned charters would “cherry pick” students.

“If you allow me to handpick the students that I want to teach in my school, knowing that I don’t have to take any of the special needs kids, any discipline problems and kids without good parental support, I’m going to show much bigger gains than a public school where we take and educate everyone,” Lee said. “We believe that our Constitution is clear that you provide a free, thorough, efficient public education for every child, not just a select few.”

West Virginia Academy, however, according to John Treu, would admit anyone. But Lee said that even still, he doesn’t approve of charters because as he sees it, designating them as “public” is just a way to make sure they get public dollars, taking away from traditional public schools that he thinks need more support.

This concern is not unfounded.

Would Charter Schools Work In West Virginia?

Mark Berends directs the Center for Research on Educational Opportunity at the University of Notre Dame and has done extensive research into charter schools. He said that yes, public charters would in effect take away, or reroute, funding from traditional public schools, but he said if the feeling among the public is to establish a charter, then it should be up to the public.

“I think it is public money,” Berends said. “If there’s schooling options put in place that are really effective, and those happen to be charter schools, then parents should have the right to be able to choose those schools for their children.”

It’s unclear, though, if a charter school would be effective in West Virginia. Berends said there hasn’t been enough research to determine if charters are effective in rural areas — and West Virginia is a mostly rural state.

Berends said there is research though that shows virtual charter schools, which are seeing a recent boom due to the coronavirus pandemic, do poorly in rural areas.

“Looking at achievement results, virtual charter schools in Indiana, after switching from a public school into a virtual charter school, loses about 16 percentile points in mathematics and also significant losses in reading,” he said.

Most research finds that charter schools improve student learning greatest in elementary and middle school, but he said little research supports positive impacts in high school.

Berends also said there’s research to support that charter schools don’t serve special education students well.

Because West Virginia’s charter school law limits the number of public charter schools, Berends said the state is in a unique position to perfect a model and get it right, if such schools are something state residents support.

“We have learned a lot about charter schools over the last three decades, and Americans love choices. They love choices at the grocery store, and they like choices for the schools that their children attend,” he said. “I don’t really see [charters] going away, despite opposition, but I think it would behoove the people that are going to be running these charter schools to get it right.”

LISTEN: Essential Workers Share Working Mom Struggles During A Pandemic

When the Coronavirus pandemic was declared in March, state leaders shut down schools, ordered businesses to close and told people to stay home from work unless they were deemed “essential” by the federal government.

This included hygiene production and services such as custodians for essential buildings. It created new challenges for single parents deemed essential, especially when daycares shut down. With virtual learning, more challenges emerged for parents. Jessica Lilly spoke with a few moms coping with this reality to get a sense of what they’re up against.

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Kaitlyn Oxley and her daughter, Mia, pause for quick photo for SnapChat.

Kaitlyn Oxley is a custodian in Mercer County, West Virginia.

“I was deemed essential,” Oxley said. “But the daycare closed down as soon as it started. So I had to be off work and work when I can. It was usually one or two days a week if that.”

After the daycare closed, Oxley says she had no choice but to stay home most days, only working when her mother got a day off and could keep her 3-year old young daughter.

With so little work, Oxley’s bills started to add up – but she made it through with support from her family.

“I had a very gracious aunt that helped me,” Oxley said. “Luckily, I got my settlement. So I got the backup. But if I didn’t have that I would have been, just out of luck.”

The settlement came from insurance after she was in a car wreck in September 2019. The timing of it was a huge help for Oxley.

Kayla Graham is also a custodian in Mercer County.

“When the pandemic hit, I was out of work for a week,” Graham explained.

Graham, a single mom with four children, ages 13 to five, said that it was a layoff that helped her get back to work.

“Luckily, my youngest daughter, her father, ended up getting laid off because of the pandemic also,” Graham said. “So he helped out a lot with watching the kids whenever the daycare shut down. And usually, like a typical day, I go to work, I come home, I work on their schoolwork, and some days, you’re just feeling like you’re pulled in every direction.”

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Kayla Graham cuddles with her four children.

Most of the time, she doesn’t really think about the challenges or how hard things could get. She simply does what she needs to do – for her family.

“I don’t really think right now anything could really help,” she says fighting back tears. “It’s just, you know, kind of doing what you have to do during the pandemic.”

When the local daycare finally opened back up, both Graham, as well as Oxley, qualified for financial assistance with child care through the nonprofit Mountain Heart Community Services Inc. because they were essential workers. The private, community action agency was created back in the 60s in the wake of the federal War on Poverty.

Anyone deemed “essential” qualifies through December. Mountain Heart offers child care assistance and several other services in 30 counties across the state.

You know, you have to make a living,” Graham said. “And without Mountain Heart, I probably couldn’t do that. And it helps a great deal whenever it comes to single parents, with multiple kids.”

Today, with the kids back to school, there are new challenges.

“Pretty much you just kind of have to wait until I get off of work and then do all of the kids’ school work then,” she said. “It’s difficult. They do their Zoom meetings at daycare. And, you know, they’re where they talk to their class and their teachers. I’m lucky that the daycare does that and they help with that.”

Graham notes her challenges in ensuring all of her children’s needs are met.

“My kids, they’re also in special ed, two of my boys are in special ed so whenever I say I’m pulled in every direction, my youngest daughter, she just started preschool. So it’s like this one wants help, this one wants help, and this one wants help. But it’s like where do you start? That’s, it’s stressful.”

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Kaitlyn Oxley’s daughter, Mia, dressed as the Stephen King character Penny Wise for the Miss Wicked Pageant in Beckley, WV.

At times, it’s hard for these women to share these stories. But one activity that made both women smile was participating in pageants.

“I think it builds a child’s self esteem for the most part,” Graham said. “They get up there and everybody’s talking about how pretty they are, you know, and it’s putting them up on a pedestal and that’s great. It really is.”

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Kayla Graham’s five-year-old daughter, Isabella, was presented with a trophy for Halloween Princess in the 2020 Miss Wicked Pageant in Beckley.

The women don’t find much time for themselves any more. But they find a bit of happiness to see the smile on their kids’ faces. Kayla encouraged other single parents like herself as they work through a difficult era.

“Honestly, you’re not alone,” Graham said. “Everybody’s kind of stuck in my own spot right now, as frustrating as it is.”

Graham and Oxley also said that another stimulus package would mean a chance to get ahead on bills and not have to worry as much about Christmas presents for the kids.

Marshall-Huntington Linked Forever By Plane Crash

Editors Note: The following article was also published in the Fall 2020 issue of GOLDENSEAL Magazine.

On the evening of November 14, 1970, 75 Marshall University football team members, coaches and community members lost their lives in a plane crash.

Obviously, the crash changed the lives of the families forever. But the crash changed Huntington, West Virginia and Marshall University, too.

In the late 1960s, Huntington was a typical city for the region. It had a thriving business sector with steel and glass making factories as well as a company that manufactured railroad cars.

Marshall University was located in the middle of Huntington, but it was separate. The community supported the football and basketball teams on game days, but there wasn’t much more of a connection. The relationship between the blue-collar town and the university wasn’t strained; they just had little to do with each other.

That changed after the crash.

About the same time, the city began going through economic changes of its own. The nation itself was in an economic slump in the late 1960s that entered an official recession in 1969 and 1970. The heavy industry that had propelled Huntington to prominence began to close.

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The Memorial Fountain reflected in the calm waters of the surrounding pool after the fountain is turned off for the winter.

Aftermath

Morris “Mac” McMillian was a student at Marshall when the plane crashed. He described the atmosphere on campus in those next few days as “devastated.”

“Everything was closed, except for the old Shawkey Student Union. We sat there and stared at each other. We didn’t know what to do. There were no announcements. The buildings were closed, there were no classes,” McMillian said.

And there was only one subject on everyone’s mind.

“People just walked around in a daze downtown. And then people would, if you would get engaged in conversation with someone, it would be ‘Did you know anybody on the plane?’,” he said.

Like a lot of people who were on campus at the time, McMillian knew members of the football team and it is still a sensitive topic. He said he has not been able to visit the Spring Hill Cemetery where several former players are buried including those who remain unidentified.

Mike Kirtner was a Marshall University Sophomore in 1970. He was working for WMUL, the student-led radio station, when he heard the first reports of the crash.

Kirtner was on a date, but immediately drove to Tri-State Airport to find out what was going on. With his student press credentials, he was able to gain access to the airport and the crash site itself.

“One vivid memory I have from that night is seeing the old school bus they used to take the team to campus. It was painted white, but it had Marshall University on the side. That bus was empty and it was a misting rain. I remember seeing that bus sitting there empty. For whatever reason that’s the most vivid memory of that evening,” he said.

Kirtner, who now owns Kindred Communications, said he grew up in the Huntington area and described it as a typical “Leave it to Beaver” blue collar town.

Marshall University; e-wv West Virginia Encyclopedia
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The 1970 Marshall University football team.

“I think, when the plane crash occurred, that’s when Marshall became a college town. That’s when the transition started, because suddenly the innocence was gone. I mean, we’d been through the Silver Bridge disaster and various things that happened, but after that happened in Huntington, it all changed,” he said.

For Kirtner, the aftermath of the plane crash brought about a grieving process for the entire town. By the next year, he was a radio DJ and he became more aware of the emotional attachment people made to the team.

“I actually collected 100s of names in support of the new football team. When they decided to play football again, that’s when people started bonding with the football program and they became emotionally attached to it versus just being a sports attachment,” Kirtner said.

Lessons and Determination

Huntington Mayor Steve Williams during his playing days.

Huntington Mayor Steve Williams was a member of the Thundering Herd football team. He didn’t arrive on campus until 1974, but he grew up in the region and was very familiar with Huntington and the Marshall football coaching staff. His father was almost a member of the staff, too, although Williams didn’t learn that until the movie We are Marshall came out.

Dr. Don Williams was friends with Marshall Head Football Coach Rick Tolley. Tolley offered the senior Williams the Offensive Coordinator coaching position at Marshall, but Williams turned him down. If he hadn’t, Williams likely would have been on the plane.

In the film, there is a scene in the film where the acting Marshall University president Dr. Donald Dedmon is going through a list of potential coaches calling them and then scratching names off the list. After watching the film with his parents, Steve Williams asked his dad if he ever wondered what would have happened if he had gotten that call since he quit coaching at Concord College in 1969.

“Dad said, ‘I did’. My mother’s fork just dropped. She didn’t even know that. Dad said he told the university he would only be interested if he could be head coach and athletic director. They said they were separating the two jobs. Dad went off that next year to Virginia Tech to work on his doctorate. When he finished his doctoral work and he got another call from Marshall. Marshall just kept calling our family. We were destined to be together,” Williams said.

For Williams, the biggest lesson for Marshall, and for the city of Huntington, was determination.

“If you want to understand Marshall, if you want to understand Huntington, understand we never give up. You think you’re ever going to take us down? It might take us 30 years, but we’re going to figure it out. We’re going to come back, and we will end up prevailing,” he said.

For Williams, Marshall is the heartbeat of Huntington. “Make no mistake about it, Marshall today is the heart and soul of the city and it became that way because of the crash,” he said.

For a long time, no one in Huntington talked about the plane crash. Joe “Woody” Woodrum, the long-time team manager and former color commentary announcer for the football program, said.

“We didn’t talk too much about the crash. I mean, it was largely avoided my first 10 years here,” Woodrum said. He came to the Marshall campus in January of 1975. “We were trying to rebuild the program.”

Woodrum said he has materials from those early years and there was little to no mention of the plane crash at all.

“I’ve got a media guide from 1971. It has a brief bit about the crash and the worst disaster in modern sports history. And that was it,” he said.

We are Marshall documents the decision to bring back the football program immediately after the crash but Woodrum recalls those discussions happening for years, especially while the team continued to struggle.

“I remember Bill Smith in the Daily Mail wrote a column about 1979 or 80 and said ‘Marshall should give up football. You’ve got a great basketball program. Why not put more money into that?’,” Woodrum said.

From Woodrum’s perspective, the thing that helped people begin to open up was when the team began winning. The first winning season posted by the football team, following the crash, was in 1984.

“I think that’s when people began to accept and be able to talk about the plane crash,” Woodrum said.

Mike Hamrick played football for Marshall University during the rebuilding years. He arrived on campus in January of 1976, after a semester at a junior college, and graduated in 1980. He played for the Thundering Herd in the 1976, 77, 78 and 79 seasons. Hamrick went on to a long career in university athletics before returning to Marshall as the Athletic Director in 2009.

Marshall University Athletic Director Mike Hamrick

“There were people into the mid to late 70s that didn’t think Marshall should have football. Just imagine you are an 18 or 19-year-old college kid and you’re playing for the Thundering Herd and people in the community are telling you ‘Man, we don’t need football here. Let’s just forget about football’,” Hamrick said. “In the 70s, we didn’t refer to the plane crash at all.”

Hamrick says the players from those early years kept the program alive during the tough times when the team wasn’t winning.

“Without the guys in the 70s, the late 70s, the program probably would have gone away. I’m telling you, I was there. There were people that wanted the program to go away. And thank goodness for the leadership at Marshall at the time. They kept football going and look what it’s done for our university today,” he said.

Eric Douglas
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WVPB
The Marshall University Memorial Fountain.

Moving Forward

Each fall, on November 14, the university turns off the fountain at the Memorial Student Center in a ceremony that has grown over the years. It features members of the community, families of those lost and members of the athletic department.

The current president of Marshall University, Dr. Jerome Gilbert, is a fairly new arrival at Marshall University. He took over the position in January 2016. After he had been announced as president, but before he began the job, he was able to attend a fountain ceremony on November 14, 2015.

“It was very moving and emotional and hard to describe if you’ve never been there. The intensity of the emotion and the intensity of the feelings that are present on that day with so many people gathered there to pay their respects. It made me feel there was a very special bond at Marshall, due to the tragedy,” Gilbert said.

Dr. Gilbert said Mayor Williams was right about the connection between the school and the town.

Marshall University President Jerome Gilbert

“When you look at a lot of universities in cities and towns, there’s often the town-gown rivalry. The town folk don’t want to associate with the university folks and there’s some of that vice versa. That was a positive side effect of the plane crash. It really drew the city and the university closer together,’ he said. “There’s very little distinction between the city and the university. They embrace each other. And I think that’s the way it should be.”

Dr. Gilbert equated plane crash and the community reaction in the city of Huntington to the trauma of war.

“You see a lot of World War Two veterans that never talked about the war when they were younger and then, in their later years, they started talking about it. My father-in-law was certainly in that camp,” Gilbert said. “He wanted to put it out of his mind because it was such a horrible experience. I think it’s something that you have to give time to be able to psychologically deal with it. So I think that has been part of it over the years, to sort of make peace with the whole event and to be able to talk about it and commemorate it in appropriate ways as we’re doing now.”

Today

Fifty years after the plane crash, the Marshall community, both the school and the community that surrounds it, is able to discuss the plane crash. There is still emotion and there are tears, but they are mixed with pride at what the university has accomplished since November 14, 1970. Those who are still involved with the program make sure new arrivals to campus understand that legacy.

“The parents of the recruits really understand it, when they’re doing their homework before they come up with their son on their recruiting trip, but if they don’t understand it before they get here, I can promise you, they understand that once they get here,” Hamrick said.

As part of the recruiting visits, Hamrick said they hear real people talk about their stories of losing their parents or losing an aunt or an uncle or a grandparent or a friend.

“It doesn’t take them long once they get on this campus to understand what that fountain means, and to run up to Spring Hill Cemetery and see that memorial and look at the graves of those unidentified players. It sinks in real quick what this is all about,” he said.

Before the film We Are Marshall was the 2000 documentary Marshall University: Ashes to Glory that helped the community begin talking about the plane crash. In the 50 years since the crash, and in the 20 years since that documentary, Marshall fans around the world have been able to understand the connection between the town and the university.

“I think, over the years, Marshall and Huntington have grown as one and we are one. I don’t think either one of us could survive in the manner that we would like if we were not joined together. So yeah, we’re all in this together. November 14, 1970 is a part of Huntington, it’s a part of Marshall, and it will always be that way,” Hamrick said.

This story is the result of a partnership between GOLDENSEAL Magazine, and West Virginia Public Broadcasting. A print version of this story appears in the Fall issue of Goldenseal Magazine. The entire issue is dedicated to the plane crash and you can buy a copy here.

Bob Murray, Who Fought Against Black Lung Regulations As A Coal Operator, Has Filed For Black Lung Benefits

Robert E. Murray, the former CEO and president of the now-bankrupt Murray Energy, has filed an application with the U.S. Department of Labor for black lung benefits. For years, Murray and his company fought against federal mine safety regulations aimed at reducing the debilitating disease.

“I founded the company and created 8,000 jobs there until the move to end coal use. I am still chairman of the board,” he wrote on a Labor Department form that initiated his claim obtained by the Ohio Valley ReSource. “We’re in bankruptcy, and due to my health could not handle the president and CEO job any longer.”

According to sources, Murray’s claim is still in the initial stages and is being evaluated to determine the party potentially responsible for paying out the associated benefits. The Labor Department is required to determine a liable party before an initial ruling can be made on entitlement to benefits. If Murray’s claim were to go before an administrative law judge, some aspects of the claim would become a matter of public record.

The Ohio Valley ReSource confirmed the authenticity of Murray’s claim documents by inputting associated information — including his last name, birthdate and a case ID number — into an online portal maintained by the Labor Department.

In his claim, Murray, who is now 80 years old, writes that he is heavily dependent on the oxygen tank he is frequently seen using, and is “near death.”

North American Coal Corporation is named as one potentially liable party in Murray’s claim for the benefits. According to documents associated with his claim, he states that he was employed by the company from May 1957 to October 1987 — where he ascended through its ranks, first as a miner before taking on the role of president.

Later, he served as president and operator of Ohio Valley Resources, Inc. and a subsidiary from 1988 to 2001. He founded Murray Energy in 1988.

He states in his claim for benefits that he worked underground while supervising operations throughout the years.

“During my 63 years working in underground coal mines, I worked 16 years every day at the mining face underground and went underground every week until I was age 75,” Murray wrote in his claim.

Reached by phone, Murray declined an on-the-record interview for this story. Murray said he has black lung from working in underground mines and is entitled to benefits. Additionally, he disputed that he ever fought against regulations to quell the disease or fought miners from receiving benefits.

Murray also threatened to file a lawsuit if a story was published that indicated he had fought federal regulations and benefits.

But Murray told NPR in October 2019 that he had a lung disease that was not caused by working underground in mines.

“It’s idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. IPF, and it is not related to my work in the industry. They’ve checked for that,” Murray told NPR. “And it’s not — has anything to do with working in the coal mines, which I did for 17 years underground every day. And until I was 76, I went underground twice a week.”

History Of Fighting Safety Rules

Like other coal operators, Murray’s companies have disputed the claims made by miners who seek black lung benefits. The coal magnate, who for decades ran the largest privately owned underground coal mining company in the United States, has also been at the forefront of combatting federal regulations that attempt to reduce black lung, an incurable and ultimately fatal lung disease caused by exposure to coal and rock dust.

In 2014, Murray Energy spearheaded a lawsuit against the Obama administration over a federal rule that strengthened control of coal dust in mines.

The Obama-era standard reduced the acceptable amount of coal dust exposure for miners, increased the frequency of dust sampling, and required coal operators to take immediate action when dust levels are high.

The reforms were the first in more than four decades to tighten exposure standards to coal dust and came at a time that evidence was mounting that Appalachia was seeing a deadly resurgence in the most severe form of black lung, after reaching historic lows in the 1990s.

“It’s ironic that Murray’s company fought hard to block the 2014 respirable coal dust rule we put in place to prevent the black lung disease,” said Joe Main, who served as assistant secretary of the Mine Safety and Health Administration under President Barack Obama.

MSHA, as it is known, is the agency within the Labor Department tasked with implementing and enforcing mine safety rules, including those aimed at reducing black lung.

Murray Energy’s lawsuit claimed that adhering to the new rule would have been virtually unachievable with available technology and would cost the industry billions. Murray’s suit failed, but Bob Murray tried again to block implementation of the dust rule, this time by influencing the incoming administration of President Donald Trump.

Murray, a staunch Trump supporter, has been a major player in shaping the current administration’s energy policy agenda and has funded groups that deny the existence of climate change. Early in Trump’s term, the coal magnate delivered a detailed action plan aimed at helping the declining industry. Among the requests: overhaul the “bloated” MSHA and “revise the arbitrary coal mine dust regulation” which Murray claimed would cost the industry “thousands of jobs.”

The coal industry’s biggest players and lobbyists, including the National Mining Association, have fought tighter regulations. Wes Addington, executive director of the Appalachian Citizens’ Law Center, a nonprofit law firm that has for years represented miners in black lung benefits cases, said Murray was at the forefront of that fight.

“Today, in 2020, we’re seeing more miners with more advanced black lung than the country has ever seen. And yet, the industry over the past 10 to 20 years, has consistently fought against any regulation that would try to limit the amount of dust that miners breathe,” Addington said. “Murray Energy has been part of that fight, along with a number of the largest coal companies in the country.”

 

Black Lung Claims Process

To qualify for black lung benefits, miners must prove both that they have the debilitating disease and that they are totally disabled due at least in part to a breathing impairment caused by black lung.

The diagnosis is usually done through X-rays and other tests and certified by a medical professional. To get federal benefits, a miner will first assemble and submit a claim to the Labor Department. The agency will review the claim and make a determination as to whether there is substantial evidence to prove both the presence of the disease and that it has disabled the miner. If the claim is approved, the federal government will begin paying out medical benefits, also called interim benefits, from the Black Lung Disability Trust Fund, a federal pot of money that pays for some benefits and is funded by a tax on each ton of coal mined.

Then the Labor Department turns to the coal company deemed to be responsible for the miner’s disease to pay for the benefits. Advocates that work on black lung benefits say, more often than not, the coal company or its insurance carrier will fight the claim, which often pits miners against their former employers in court.

“You often see doctors who testify for coal companies raise an argument about, perhaps the miner was overweight. Perhaps the miner has been exposed to animal manure if he grew up on a farm, and perhaps that is causing his breathing trouble today — after working for 15 or 20 or 30 years in the mines,” said Sam Petsonk, a West Virginia-based attorney who has represented former Murray miners seeking black lung claims.

Petsonk, who is also the Democratic candidate for West Virginia Attorney General, said litigation involving claims for black lung benefits can drag out often for many years and in some cases for decades. In some documented cases, miners have died before their claims were settled.

Davitt McAteer, former MSHA assistant secretary, said the tactic of attorneys representing mining companies named in black lung claims is to slow down or stall the process.

“If you’ve black lung, you’re dying. There’s no two ways about it. And you may live for a while, but you’re going to die soon,” he said. “And all I have to do is — if I’m the lawyer on the other side — wait around, wait him out and they’ll die. And they did. And then, the claimant goes to the widow and you wait her out, too.”

According to Murray’s claim for benefits, his wife Brenda is listed as a dependent. If Murray’s claim for benefits is approved, his wife would receive the benefits for the rest of her life, regardless of whether the claim is approved before or after his death.

If a coal company goes bankrupt or if no responsible party is determined, benefits may be paid from the Black Lung Disability Trust Fund, which currently covers expenses for some 25,000 miners and their dependents. A recent report from the Government Accountability Office found the trust fund is expected to be $15 billion in debt by 2050.

Bankruptcy

Murray Energy’s bankruptcy last year added to the burdened fund. In October 2019, the coal operator filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. The company cited billions of dollars in liabilities and a weak and struggling market for coal.

“Although a bankruptcy filing is not an easy decision, it became necessary to access liquidity and best position Murray Energy and its affiliates for the future of our employees and customers and our long-term success,” then-CEO Murray said in a release issued at the time.

The proceedings, which concluded in September, provided a rare glimpse into the private company. Creditors argued Murray and his nephew and now CEO of the company, Robert Moore, viewed the mining company as a “family piggy bank” and cited a “disturbing pattern of self dealing and abuse of corporate resources.”

They documented multi-million dollar cash bonuses for both Murray and Moore, as well as the use of the company’s aircraft for personal purposes among other allegations. Murray Energy denied those claims.

According to court filings, Murray Energy could be responsible for as much as $155 million under the Black Lung Act and general workers’ compensation, but testimony from the Government Accountability Office shows that the company only offered $1.1 million in collateral.

As is common in coal bankruptcies, Murray and its successor company were relieved of any obligation to pay existing black lung benefits by the bankruptcy court. Those benefits are now being paid by the federal Black Lung Disability Trust Fund.

Under the final bankruptcy agreement, Murray has been removed from company leadership, although he remains on the board.

Other Violations

Murray mining operations have also had a number of high-profile mine safety incidents over the years, including the disastrous collapse of a mine in 2007.

In August 2007, nine miners and rescuers died after the Murray-owned Crandall Canyon mine in Utah collapsed. The Labor Department fined the company $1.85 million for violating federal mine safety law. In 2012, the agency settled with Murray for a reduced amount. The settlement included acknowledgement by Murray Energy for its “responsibility for the failures that led to the tragedy.”

Murray later told NPR “this settlement is not an admission of any contribution to the August 2007 accidents.”

Murray was also sued by the Labor Department after miners complained the CEO personally told workers in a meeting in late 2013 to stop making complaints to federal regulators. Under federal law, miners have the right to speak anonymously to government inspectors about mine safety concerns. In 2019, Murray lost an appeal in the case. The court upheld a decision that Murray must personally apologize.

This story was edited and produced by the Ohio Valley ReSource.

Did West Virginia Inspire 'Country Roads'? 50 Years Later, Here's What We Know

One night in 1970, Bill Danoff and his then-girlfriend Taffy Nivert were hanging out with John Denver, and they played a few verses from a song they’d been working on. Denver immediately said he wanted to record it.

“It was sort of like an old movie,” Danoff recalled in a 2010 interview with the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame. “You know, ‘why don’t we all do it together?’ And I said, ‘okay, well, we got to finish it.’ He said, ‘well, let’s finish it.’”

The three of them — Danoff, Nivert and Denver — stayed up all night finishing the song. Knowing little about the state, Nivert pulled out an encyclopedia and looked up West Virginia.  

“We kept just throwing out lines,” Danoff said. “And then we’d write down the ones that seemed to fit.”

They played “Country Roads” the next night, at The Cellar Door, an iconic intimate venue in Washington D.C. 

Stories From 'Country Roads' – First Public Performance

“The people clapped for about five minutes straight,” Danoff said. “First time they’d ever heard the song. And you knew you had something because that doesn’t, that just doesn’t happen, you know?”

One of those in the audience was Andy Ridenour, who at the time was a student at Concord College (now Concord University), in southern West Virginia. 

“I was on holiday break between Christmas and New Year’s, along with some friends from West Virginia. We all went nuts, with our West Virginia connection. Quite frankly everybody went nuts.”

This wasn’t the first time Ridenour had seen Denver play. A couple months prior to the show at The Cellar Door, Denver played at Concord College. Ridenour believes Denver’s trip to the small town of Athens, West Virginia may have helped spark the hit single. 

Credit courtesy Concord University
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Newspaper article previewing John Denver’s visit to Concord College (now Concord University) in fall 1970.

“He and his band flew into Roanoke, Virginia, and they had to drive over on old US 460,” Ridenour said. “A lot of it was two-lane roads, running parallel to the New River. And when John and his band got out of the car, they commented on the roads. They were happy to have safely arrived.”

When “Country Roads” was released the following year, Ridenour said Denver sent an autographed copy of the album to the Concord radio station. “He said, ‘thanks for the inspiration.’”

Credit Courtesy Bill Danoff
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John Denver performing at the Cellar Door in D.C. in 1970.

 

The song has been a worldwide anthem since its release in April 1971, and it’s one of the things people across the globe connect with West Virginia. But there’s a debate about whether the song was really even written about the state. The opening verse mentions the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the Shenandoah River, two geographical features that are mostly associated with Western Maryland and Virginia. While the river and mountains do touch a small portion of West Virginia’s Eastern Panhandle, Danoff said he wrote most of the song during a drive through rural Maryland.

“I was just driving out in Western Maryland, and it was kind of countryside that reminded me of my home upbringing in Western New England.” 

But Danoff said he does have a connection to West Virginia. Growing up, he spent many evenings listening to the Wheeling Jamboree from WWVA.  

“In the bridge of that song. there’s a there’s a line: ‘I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me/ the radio reminds me of my home far away/ and riding down the road I get a feeling I should have been home yesterday.’”

“I’m thinking of that radio,” Danoff explained. “I’m thinking of WWVA and heading toward that that radio signal. So there really was a kind of an early and subconscious connection.”

 

And as for the geographical issue, when somebody pointed that out, Danoff came up with this answer, on the fly. “So I thought about it and I said, ‘well, the guy’s going home to West Virginia. He’s going through Virginia, and he’s passing the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Shenandoah River.’”

These details don’t seem to bother most West Virginians. 

“I think that we excuse it,” said Sarah Morris, an English professor at West Virginia University who is writing a book about “Country Roads.” She’s scoured the internet and read dozens of threads. People all over the world debate what this song is really about, and which state really gets to claim it. 

“And lots of places across the world want to own it, which is why we see bands and musicians taking it up and changing the lyrics to match their homes,” Morris said. 

The song “Country Roads” has been recorded in at least 19 different languages, and in countless different arrangements, including the Toots and the Maytails’ version “West Jamaica.” That bands’ lead singer recently died of COVID-19. 

But nobody owns the anthem more than West Virginians. The state bought the rights to the song so they could use it to promote tourism. West Virginia University plays it whenever they win a football or basketball game. 

WVU Football: Country Roads

When West Virginia Public Broadcasting out a call out on social media, asking people to share stories about this song, and what it means to them, we were flooded with emails from people like Stephanie Ostrowski, of Martinsburg, W.Va., who played “Country Roads” as the last song at her wedding. “Actually it’s become a tradition with a lot of our friends. Everyone gets arm at arm together and sings ‘Country Roads.’ It’s a great way to end the night.”

And Michael Rubin, who lives in Harpers Ferry W.Va., who recalled begging his father to buy the 8 track so they could play it in the car.

Frank Saporito of Wheeling said the song inspired him as a teenager to save all the money he earned so he could afford the same guitar that John Denver played.

Sarah Morris said this song is emblematic of a nostalgia for the past, and a desire for something just out of reach. These themes resonate strongly with many folks from West Virginia.

“There was this huge outmigration of West Virginians to work in industries in the 60s. West Virginia, per capita, lost more people in the Vietnam War than any other state. All of that was happening right around the time the song was released. So there was this overall mood of homesickness, not just for West Virginians, but also for our country. So the song was born into that.”

Homesickness is universal. Maybe that’s why it resonates with people all over the world. Morris compares it to a concept in Welch culture known as “Hiraeth.”

“It’s this deep, internal, fundamental longing for a place we can never go. And I think there’s an element of that in country roads, too.”

Morris said “Country Roads” is maybe about a longing for a place that never really existed in the first place. A place that our memories changed over the years. 

And during the pandemic, that nostalgia has grown even stronger for some people, like Sonya Shafer. She left West Virginia right after high school. She’s traveled the world for work. Lately though, that work has all been remote. So she felt the urge to come back. 

“I could feel the magnetic pull taking me taking me back, asking me why I left asking me why I’m not home, asking me why I’m not in West Virginia.”

Shafer hired movers to bring her stuff across the country from L.A. and bought a one-way ticket to Lewisburg, West Virginia, where she grew up. At the airport she recorded an audio memo, in between flights that were taking her home, in which 

“Today’s the day I’m on layover here in O’Hare [airport in Chicago] with my cat. Really it’s ‘Country Roads,’ take me home. I’m going home. It’s been a long time coming, and I slept in an empty apartment last night and actually played the song a few times.”

Two weeks after the move, Shafer said returning to West Virginia has been everything she’d hoped. She takes a walk to a nearby creek every day– and she’s enjoying being called “honey” and “darlin.” And when she called the DMV to get her new license plate, she said her heart flooded with emotion when she heard the hold music, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” 

 

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