No New Black Lung Benefits, West Virginia Miners Seek Changes

The 2020 West Virginia legislative session has ended with no new legislation addressing black lung benefits, leaving former and current coal miners to depend on waning federal benefits to combat the lifelong disease.  

Coal Miners Vs. Coal Companies

The Kanawha County chapter of the Black Lung Association — which includes about 30 current and former coal miners, wives, widows and volunteers — lobbied local legislators this past year to no avail. Last week the group celebrated its one-year anniversary while discussing what the future will look like for miners at its’ monthly meeting in Cabin Creek, West Virginia.  

Cabin Creek has a long history with coal mining and strife between union workers and the coal companies over wages. In 1912 the Paint Creek-Cabin Creek strike resulted in a year-long, deadly battle, and over 200 miners were arrested, and even 108 years later, the resentment is palpable. 

John Ingram has black lung, a crippling disease caused by the inhalation of coal and silica dust. He worked underground and on surface mines as an electrician.

“I get a little frustrated because coal companies for years, I mean before I was born even, got away with whatever they wanted to get away with,” Ingram said. “And somebody needs to stop them, hold them accountable. After all we made the money for them.”

The Federal Fight

These days, miners are still fighting, albeit nonviolently, through the bureaucratic system for federal black lung benefits. The Black Lung Disability Trust Fund provides some miners disabled by black lung with monthly payments and medical benefits. Coal companies pay into it through a per-ton tax on coal. 

But the fund is more than $4 billion in debt, and as coal companies increasingly file for bankruptcy it is facing insolvency more quickly than predicted.

For miners, getting approved for the federal benefits is time consuming. Jerry Coleman, the chapter’s president, fought for seven years. He said many of the men in the room have been denied and are trying to appeal.

“Yeah I’ve got 37 years in the coal mines,” he said. “Some of them they’ve got 30 some years in the coal mines, and they’re getting turned down. There’s something wrong.”

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
One of the members wears the Kanawha County Black Lung Association’s T-shirts at the meeting March 5, 2020 in Cabin Creek, WV. The group celebrated its one-year anniversary.

Historically there have been many loopholes for coal companies to appeal miners’ requests for federal benefits, and cases can be tied up for sometimes 10 years. 

The Local Fight

Three bills presented to state legislators this year intended to ease pressure off miners in the process of seeking federal benefits and help those who are diagnosed with black lung but can still work. Senate Bill 54 and House Bill 440 would have guaranteed miners diagnosed with black lung 20 weeks of paid benefits and a 25 percent permanent partial disability award. Additionally, House Bill 2588 would have eliminated any time limit to receive a black lung diagnosis. None of the bills made it out of committee. 

Delegate Mike Caputo, D-Marion county, sponsored two of the black lung bills this session.

“It’s not something that’s real popular with the masses, like promising jobs. But it’s real and it needs discussed and it needs more focus put on it,” he said. “And we tried to do that by introducing legislation but getting the leadership to try to move that type of legislation is almost impossible.” 

The failure of the West Virginia Legislature to once again take action comes as miners in central Appalachia face an epidemic of deadly progressive massive fibrosis, the advanced stage of black lung disease.

Sam Petsonk, a Beckley-based attorney who has largely represented black lung cases, explained to the chapter why the partial disability award is a bill to lobby for next year.

“It’s an important way to prevent people from getting deathly sick, as fast,” Petsonk said. “You get that 25 percent, monitor yourself, make sure you’re out of the dust, don’t do anything crazy and control your disease — prolong your life.”

As the meeting ended, members talked about how to move forward. Their plan is to continue lobbying the Legislature for the 25 percent permanent partial disability award, and to lobby the federal government for a permanent plan to fund the black lung benefits.

Plan For Lifelong Sickness

One of the resounding sentiments was to vote. Former miners John Ingram and Arthur Betty have black lung and said miners have felt disenfranchised for the last 75 years.

“There’s where the fight starts right there,” Betty said. “You can’t win if you keep putting the same cutthroat crooks year after year. Let’s get a new racehorse in there.”

“Any politician that sides with the coal companies, don’t vote for them,” Ingram said.

And as for the younger generation, Ingram said he encourages them to still work in the coal mines even though he admits black lung is inevitable in the working conditions. Although he said younger miners need to take steps now to plan for their future of sickness.

“You work in the coal mines. It’s a good honest living, but you work in there safely,” he said.

Del. Caputo said there are plans to introduce similar legislation to the black lung partial disability benefits, again, in next year’s session.

The Kanawha County chapter of the Black Lung Association meets at 3:30 on the first Thursday of every month at the Zion Assembly Church of God in Cabin Creek.

This story is part of West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Southern Coalfields Reporting Project which is supported by a grant from the National Coal Heritage Area Authority.

An earlier version of this story mistated the name of the miner in the lead photo. It is Milton ‘Mickey’ Pettry, not Milton ‘Mickey’ Patrick. 

Bobwhite Quail Return To West Virginia

Officials from the West Virginia’s Department of Natural Resources announced Wednesday that an extinct species native to West Virginia were restored.

Last week 48 bobwhite quail were reintroduced to southern West Virginia from Texas. They were released in the Tomblin Wildlife Management Area in Logan and Mingo Counties.

According to a press release, the species was wiped out during West Virginia’s harsh winters of 1977, 78 and 79. A team from the state’s Department of Natural Resources is using transmitters to monitor the quail’s survival and habitat use.

Credit Office of Gov. Jim Justice
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Logan Klingler, DNR wildlife manager, helps Gov. Jim Justice release the bobwhite quail into the Tomblin Wildlife Management Area.

The plan has been in the works for a couple years at Governor Jim Justice’s urging, according to the release. 

Four years ago, a similar restoration program unfolded at the wildlife management area with the release of elk from Kentucky. The area is made up of mostly reclaimed strip mines in the state’s Southern Coalfields.

This story is part of West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Southern Coalfields Reporting Project which is supported by a grant from the National Coal Heritage Area Authority.

 

Floods Hit Southern W.Va. As The Region Still Recovers From Past Damage

Flooding in the past week has once again consumed much of southern West Virginia, with Gov. Jim Justice signing a state of emergency proclamation for seven counties on Friday. 

The flood washed out Chris Frazier’s basement in Yukon, McDowell County. High waters caused Frazier’s neighbor Missy Hagerman to monitor the safety of her house on one side of Dry Fork River, while her family worried about flooding in their house on the other side of the river, near Bartley.

Once the water receded it left trash hanging from trees along rivers and major roadways, a marker for how high the water reached and how far it traveled during the most recent flood to strike southern West Virginia.

Credit Emily Allen / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
The Dry Fork River in Yukon, McDowell County, February 10, 2020.

Counties impacted so far include Fayette, Greenbrier, Logan, McDowell, Monroe, Raleigh and Wyoming. McDowell County officials issued a local state of emergency on Thursday before the governor’s proclamation.  

On Tuesday, Feb. 11, the West Virginia National Guard announced plans to send members across the state, as the Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Management gears up for another long bout of heavy rain that could amount to more than an inch of water in various counties where the ground is already saturated. 

Meteorologist Mike Zwier with the National Weather Service in Charleston said Tuesday the NWS is most concerned with creeks overflowing throughout the state and mudslides. 

“You add that to places that have already had an inch or more that have fallen,” Zwier said.“A lot of areas of WV will have gotten two inches total.”

Last week, the National Weather Service reported that Welch and McDowell sustained the most recorded waterfall at 3.6 inches.

In Yukon, Wayne Crigger said he spent the weekend shoveling mud out of his driveway. 

“I got up at ten that morning and it was already in the road,” Crigger recalled of the flood. “The water from the ditch was stopped up and it was in the road, and then by about 10:30, 11, it started getting into my yard and then it veered up all the way around my house. My basement flooded, my sister’s basement flooded.”

Crigger grew up in McDowell County, and he said he does not think he is going to leave, even though the area floods pretty regularly.

“I’ve been here every since I was little, young and stuff,” he said. “It’s the worst I’ve seen it in years. I haven’t seen it this bad in years. It hasn’t really got up enough to get into yards I think, since 2000.”

The McDowell County 911 Office said on Monday towns in the southernmost portion of the county were struck the hardest, those being Bradshaw, Berwind, English and War.

DHSEM Director Michael Todorovich reportedly traveled over the weekend, assessing the damage in the seven counties. DHSEM Spokeswoman Lora Lipscomb said Tuesday morning her office was still processing Todorovich’s findings for the Federal Emergency Management Agency and the governor’s office. 

Frazier said he and his neighbors had yet to hear what his county and the state were doing to help out.

“My whole basement all flooded out of here and everything,” Frazier said. “Every year’s the same thing. The deeper the water gets, the more flooded we get. And it’s hard to get anyone to do anything, really.”

Frazier said he is thinking of leaving McDowell County some time this year. He said he wishes his local government would work on building the infrastructure to deal with such constant flooding, and the river water that fills his and his neighbors basements every time.

“You know what flood water does to a house?” Frazier said. “It causes damage, it causes mold in the house. Stagnant water, especially.”

Not everyone in the seven-county area was seriously impacted by the flooding this time around, but many McDowell County residents recalled significant past floods.

Missy Hagerman lives in a painted white house with stairs out the front. She said there have been years when the water gets so high from the nearby river it covers her front steps. 

“My house is fine this time, because State Roads came and fixed the drain up there,” she said, referring to state highway workers. 

Usually, Hagerman said her husband and son end up clearing out the road storm drain. 

The most recent flood to be highly publicized was the 2016 flood that resulted in 23 deaths and more than 4,000 structures that were either destroyed or somewhat damaged.

Communities in southern West Virginia are still rebuilding homes and schools four years later, and area lawmakers are still introducing and considering legislation related to the event.

Credit Emily Allen / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Goldie and Lacey Griffith in front of the Yukon Pentecostal Holiness Church in McDowell County, February 10, 2020. The church has served as a shelter and place for food for people affected in the region.

A recent report from West Virginia Public Broadcasting found a State Resiliency Office established by legislation in 2017 remains relatively inactive, leaving many communities unprepared as natural disasters worsen. 

Lacey Griffith is a pastor at the Yukon Pentecostal Holiness Church. He said he has been preaching in McDowell county for more than 60 years, and he can recall bad floods all the way back to 1957. 

He has also watched the coal industry dwindle and provide less jobs for people in the area. Without a lot of money coming out of or going into the area, Griffith said it is hard for people to rebuild every time, after every flood. 

“Let me tell you about McDowell County,” Griffith said. “They are struggling. These people are struggling. They’re trying to live. It’s hard to live here.”

This story is part of West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Southern Coalfields Reporting Project which is supported by a grant from the National Coal Heritage Area Authority.

Emily Allen is a Report for America corps member.

Gnomes: A Tourism Strategy In Southern W.Va.

Little creatures are popping up on the streets of downtown Fayetteville, W.Va. People might find them hiding in trees, behind bushes, on benches or even inside local shops.

“Cause at this point, we’re like a gnome explosion,” said Tabitha Stover, Fayetteville Convention and Visitors Bureau executive director.

She came up with the idea to have a month-long scavenger hunt throughout the town, called “Gnomevember.” 

“With it being November, we thought – Gnomevember. And we kind of have a weird abundance of gnomes already in town, so it seemed like a good fit,” she said.

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Tabitha Stover, executive director of Fayetteville’s Convention and Visitor’s Bureau, holds a gnome. She came up with ‘Gnomevember’ as a way to encourage people to visit the town during the off-season.

It is a unique tourism campaign to help address the off-season of a tourism-dependent town, Stover said.

Fayetteville was once a coal town in the early 1900s, but has since shifted to an outdoor-tourism economy. Nearby rivers are rated as some of the best white water rafting in the country, and mountain biking and rock climbing are on the rise in the county. But most of those sports are limited to the warmer months.  

People spend more than $69 million per year visiting Fayette county, according to a travel impacts study by Dean Runyan Associates. Stover said about three-quarters of that is spent during the peak summer season.

Local business owner Brannon Ritterbush said she notices a decline in visitors during the off season.

“I’m just glad it’s a way to get people here that they normally wouldn’t have a reason to get out and about,” Ritterbush said about Gnomevember.

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
A small gnome placed outside of a shop in Fayetteville.

People from across West Virginia have donated a variety of gnomes to Fayetteville — more than 80 so far. Some are life-size and some are just a couple inches tall. Others wear a WVU sports jersey, a Santa Claus hat or Halloween colors.

But all the gnomes have a distinct long, white beard, large nose and pointy hat. Some have names like Linda, Bob or Steve.

“We have family gnomes – which is hard to say without laughing,” Stover said. “So many people hold onto these little characters. They seem to just keep popping up.”

The goal for visitors is to find at least 12 gnomes to earn a small prize. At the end of the month, the person who finds the most will receive a gnome-themed gift basket.

Fayetteville’s resident gnome, Walter, lives at Ritterbush’s shop, Wild Art Wonderful Things. Walter is about three feet tall and sits behind a sign that reads, “There’s Gnome Place Like Fayetteville.” 

Although gnomes originated in Germany, Ritterbush said they fit West Virginia. 

“They’re little woodland outdoor creatures, and that’s kind of what we are here in Fayetteville,” she said.

Tabitha said more than 100 people have participated so far. There was even a family from New Jersey who stopped in Fayetteville to hunt gnomes. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
A gnome tucked into a tree.

She added that events like this could work in other small, economically distressed towns.

“I think there are so many awesome little towns with potential in West Virginia,” Stover said. “I think each town could have its own little thing, be it gnomes or whatever else it is.”

Some gnomes had gone missing. Stover said either the mystical forest creatures are roaming or there might be a “gnome-napper” in town.

This story is part of West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Southern Coalfields Reporting Project which is supported by a grant from the National Coal Heritage Area Authority.

The Evolving Culture of W.Va. River Guides

Just about any search on Google for “best white water rafting” includes West Virginia. Around 150,000 people commercially raft a West Virginia river each year, mostly on the New River and Gauley River, which are near Fayetteville, West Virginia. At one point there were just less than 30 rafting companies in the area. Today, they have consolidated into six adventure businesses. 

Taking many of the people down the river is a raft guide – someone who is professionally trained to know water, but also to know people. The concept of a river guide in West Virginia started to form in the late 1960s, creating an entire guiding community culture. It is one that has been passed down for decades and is developing more each year.

Every guided raft trip provides guests with a taste of the culture. Especially with experienced guides like Ray Ray, a senior river guide for Adventures on the Gorge – a river guiding outfit in Fayetteville.

It Is In Your Blood, Or It Is Not

On this day, Ray Ray guides eight guests down the lower New River. The water is warm. The canyon surrounding them is tall and covered in thick green trees. Birds are chirping, there is a slight rain drizzle. The arch of the New River Gorge Bridge glimmers in the distance. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Ray Ray paddles a raft down the lower New River. He has been guiding since 1992.

“It’s the best job in the world. I actually have two college degrees I’ve never used a day in my life,” Ray Ray says.

Roger Wilson, CEO of Adventures on the Gorge, says all the guides have a deep love for the outdoors. 

“There’s something that happens when that first wave hits you. White Water rafting is either in your blood or it’s not. And when that first wave hit me, I was addicted,” Roger says.

He says guiding is not for everyone, as there is a large social aspect. One must be able to read people just as well as one reads the water.

Dave Bassage, who has been guiding since 1984, says there is a close, mutual respect between him and the customer.

“I really love the dynamic of having a crew of different people every day and introducing them to what I think of as the dance with moving water,” Dave says. “We’re just one of its partners, and we’ve got all these other partners in the raft.”

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Roger Wilson (left) and Dave Bassage in front of the main Adventures on the Gorge building. Roger started guiding in 1975 and he took Dave on his first raft trip – Dave later started guiding in 1984.

Being a river guide can be a nomadic lifestyle, as the season goes from March until October. Jay Young, media manager for Adventures on the Gorge, says many of the river guides work at ski resorts in the winter or they continue guiding in South America. 

“Those people everything they own fits in the back of their truck or car and they’re off to the next destination to whatever’s in season,” Jay says.

“Ya’ll Ready?”

The guide leading the boat on this day has made a career out of the industry. Ray Ray has guided in West Virginia since 1992, and he has worked on dozens of other rivers across the world. 

On this trip, there are four other rafts with guides in the group, but Ray Ray is the trip leader. He consistently checks in with the other guides.

“Ya’ll ready? You ready Caveman?” he asks.  

All the river guides have nicknames. One man with shoulder length blonde hair goes by ‘Caveman.’ He got the name because of where he lived for about eight months — the span of a full rafting season.

“I was looking around through the woods one day and found this cool little rock house overhang and just made it into a house,” Caveman says. “I actually had an endangered species of salamander living with me – it was pretty neat.”

And Ray Ray’s nickname is a bit of a mystery, but Jay has a theory. 

“Ray Ray is Ray Ray, because he’s twice the fun,” Jay says.

Ray Ray gives the raft paddling commands. 

“Forward and back, forward and back, don’t use your arms,” he says.

Credit Caitlin Tan / WVPB
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WVPB
Rafts floating down the lower New River. Today, guides are in almost every commercial raft; however, in the 60s, 70s and 80s that was not as common.

There are long stretches of calm, scenic floating. Ray Ray explains the history of the area, and he tells stories, like how different rapids and obstacles in the river got their names. There is Greyhound, Flea Flicker, Meat Grinder, Old Nasty and Miller’s Foley. 

“A kayaker named Miller got stuffed up underneath that rock over there. He was trying to run a real gnarly line, but he swam out alive, which was a million to one shot,” Ray Ray says. “He needed to go buy himself a lottery ticket.”

Ray Ray’s skin seems to be permanently tan. The fine lines on his face are of a person who has worked outside all of their life. When he sits on the back of the raft, paddle in hand, he is in his element. 

Mostly he jokes in a playful voice with the guests… 

“Remember I told you if I don’t bring you back they’re gonna dock my pay. So, you better make your swim,” he says.

But in serious moments, Ray Ray exudes confidence. His voice booms, his commands are clear. 

Danger Lurks 

In the rapid sections of the river, the raft pushes itself through the raging white water. Everyone gets soaked, but Ray Ray guides the entire time.

“Forward go – go! Keep going guys,” he says.

Some of the guests scream from a mix of fear and excitement.

After the rapids, Ray Ray pauses to check on the other rafts in the group.

We’re approaching an obstacle called ‘Meat Grinder.’ 

“It’s a collection of undercut rocks where water goes under and through it,” Ray Ray says. “We say water goes through and bodies do not.”

Some people are thrown out of their raft in the rapid above Meat Grinder. They are not part of Ray Ray’s group, but he immediately springs into action. The possibility of something catastrophic happening is low, but ‘Meat Grinder’ is one of the more dangerous areas on the river.

The guides react quickly, and Ray Ray shouts to the people bobbing in the white water, trying to save their raft.

“Leave the boat. Swim – swim!”

Everybody is fine, but it is because Ray Ray and the other guides on the trip are experts on reading the water and reading each other. Something Jay Young, the media manager for Adventures on the Gorge, says is just part of being a professional guide.

“If you were to hang out at the guide camp or even a bar on a Saturday night, you wouldn’t think these guys are the professionals that they are,” Jay says. “But when the poo hits the fan on a river, there’s nobody else I’d want out with me, because they rush into action; they all know exactly what to do, and it gets done fast.”

Passing the Paddle Down

Guides have always had their own language, whether it is hand signals on the river, or talking about water depth or names of rapids. Ray Ray says it has evolved over time. 

“We’re gonna be running one down here called ‘Flea Flicker’ that a lot of old timers used to call ‘Last Kick in the Pants,’” he says. “For the most part over time, it’s evolved and it’s just a way for us to communicate, it’s our language. It’s like speaking river guide or speaking hippy.”

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Guests that were a part of Ray Ray’s group. There are typically eight people to a raft.

And it is the senior guides, like Ray Ray, that teach this new language to the up and coming guides. People who might not have prior rafting experience but are brought together through their love of the outdoors. 

Claire Hemme, a former Inside Appalachia intern, is a first year river guide. She took the job, because she wanted to be paid to work outside.

“It’s just this wonderful eclectic mix of everyone from everywhere who just want to be outside,” she says.

The Glory Days

River guides have always been adventure seeking people, says Roger Wilson, the Adventures on the Gorge CEO. He started guiding in 1975, and he says the concept of the commercial rafting industry was still new.

“Every rock wasn’t named, every route wasn’t ran. There was still that point of discovery,” Roger says. “We were developing an industry – developing something new that no one had ever done before.”

Today, safety is a top priority. Before getting on the river, everyone signs a waiver, and guides ask each person about specific health issues.

But that was not always the case. Charlie Walbridge guided on the Cheat River in northern West Virginia from the late 1970s until the early 1980s. He says there was not a guide in every raft, people did not sign a waiver and guests were often treated like friends rather than a paying customer.

“If somebody fell out of the boat, we’d certainly go help them, but we’d laugh at them,” Charlie says. “There were all kinds of slang. When I first started the guests were turkeys, and then carp and then geeks.”

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Charlie Walbridge with his kayak at his home in Bruecton Mills, WV. After trying out for the U.S. whitewater rafting team in 1975, Charlie started guiding on the Cheat River.

These days, guides are almost always in every raft, and there is more respect between the guide and customer. Roger says guiding has become a way to share the love of the sport. 

“It evolves to watching these new guests hit these rapids for the first time and watching the smile on their face,” Roger says.

Don’t Watch Life Go By 

Back on the New River, in the raft with Ray Ray, the trip is almost over.  

For most of the guests in the boat, it is their first time down the rapids, but Ray Ray has done it thousands of times. He will be out again the next day, likely guiding more guests down the same rapids, but he still has a big grin and excitement for the river. 

Credit Caitlin Tan / West Virginia Public Broadcasting
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West Virginia Public Broadcasting
Guests on the bus after four hours of rafting. Buses transport guides and guests to and from the river.

“Thanks ya’ll very much,” he says. “Ya’ll played super hard today. I told you that was going to be a fun ride today – that was a rowdy ride.”

On shore, all the rafts are deflated and loaded on a trailer.

All 32 people in the group load up on a bus, where cold beer and soft drinks are waiting. Ray Ray has one last message.

“Guys, keep getting off your coach and living your life. Don’t watch this go by.”

This story is part of an Inside Appalachia episode exploring some of Appalachia’s most unique destinations, on the water and beneath the water. Click here to listen.

Traditional Handmade Furniture: Passing Down the Craft

Families all across the world pass on traditions and it is no exception in Appalachia.

Traditions like making apple butter in the fall, or celebrating Christmas morning at mamaws, or picking ramps at that secret spot in the spring, or even just going to church on Sunday.

But for one family in Lincoln County, West Virginia, the tradition is building furniture.

Jim Probst has spent over 40 years hand making furniture. Over the last 20 years, he has passed down that tradition to his son-in-law Eddie Austin.  

Credit Caitlin Tan
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Jim Probst in his house, which is filled with his traditional furniture. He started building furniture in the ’70s when he moved to West Virginia.

Jim is now retired, but he built himself a “retirement workshop” at the end of a muddy road down a small hollow in Lincoln County.

Inside it smells of fresh ash wood. It is cozy with a wood-heated stove. West African music plays softly from the stereo.

At the back of the room there is a smooth finished, spiral wooden staircase that leads to a loft. The steps are patterned with a dark, walnut wood; all of which Jim built.

Since Jim is retired, he still maintains a shop for work on the occasional piece, but mostly just for fun.

“There’s a woodworking tradition that seems to have started in Lincoln county,” Jim says. “And who knows, Eddie’s got two kids and his son says he’s gonna be a woodworker, farmer.”

Although Jim loves woodworking, the work is not easy. He puts hours upon hours of labor into each piece of furniture, and it shows.

Credit Caitlin Tan
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A chair Jim built. His chairs typically sell for $800.

The pieces are exquisite. Smooth finished curves, often in a deep cherry wood. But that hand crafting makes the pieces expensive – money that not a lot of people have.

One of Jim’s chairs can retail for $800.

He moved to West Virginia from Indiana with his wife during the back-to-the-land movement in the ‘70s when many young, artsy people moved and bought land in the state.

Jim loves West Virginia – the nature, solitude and low crime rates. He considers it his home and says he would not live anywhere else.

As a child, he had learned basic woodworking skills from his father, but the craft of furniture making is something he’s largely taught himself.

“I was accustomed to that if you wanted something you could build it yourself,” he says.

During his 40-year career, Jim became a nationally- recognized furniture builder. He has been featured in magazines and two books.

His sleek, minimalist style caught the eye of wealthy buyers and several high-end furniture festivals. These things helped put him on the map.

“We were in shops in Seattle, one in Colorado, a shop in Chicago, shops in New York, Atlanta, out in Martha’s Vineyard,” he says.

Passing it Down

Today, most of the work is done by Eddie.

Credit Caitlin Tan
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Eddie Austin using his dovetail machine. The machine is a 1920’s model, and it is one of Eddie’s favorites.

“It started with a girl,” Eddie says.

He is referring to Jim’s daughter Emma.

“I was 17 and I had a job as a full-time dishwasher at a local restaurant,” Eddie says. “They said, ‘We’re closing the restaurant, here’s your last paycheck, we wish you the best.’ I’d just started dating Emma and she came home and told her dad. He said, ‘Well, why don’t you get him to come into the wood shop.'”

Eddie started by sweeping floors, but over time he became a top builder for Jim, and eventually married his daughter.

Two years ago, after working together for two decades, Eddie bought the shop from Jim.

Eddie now runs his own business, EA Woodworks, out of the original woodworking space.

Much like Jim, Eddie loves West Virginia. He was raised in Lincoln County, and as an adult, he has never doubted raising his family anywhere else.

He says he cannot identify with the phrase “the struggle to stay,” a phrase media sometimes uses to describe the state’s declining population of young adults.

“A lot of us West Virginians grew up without a running bathroom in our home, and we were able to overcome things like that,” Eddie says. “And so, it really irked me that people found a struggle to stay. It never was struggle for me, it was just a time to dig deeper.”

Eddie dug deeper by learning to woodwork. It has been the reason he could stay in Lincoln County.

Credit Caitlin Tan
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Jim’s spiral staircase in his retirement workshop. He hand built it out of ash and walnut wood.

A lot of that is thanks to Jim.

Connected But Different

The connection between the two shows in their work. Both create pieces that are sturdy while still upscale and elegant.

The differences, however, really shine through in their work spaces.

Jim’s retirement shop is quite uniform. The focal points are the actual wood structure of the shop, whereas Eddie’s shop highlights his extroverted personality.  

There’s a lot of color. His door is painted purple. There is a wall dedicated to street signs with tree names, like “Maple Street” and “Oak Avenue.”

Music with Appalachian roots is often playing. A favorite of Eddie’s is Kentucky artist Tyler Childers.

Credit Caitlin Tan
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Decorations in Eddie’s wood shop. He says he likes to keep things fun to remind him of why he is furniture building.

Eddie has also changed what was once Jim’s furniture showroom for clients. It is now a laid-back room with a table, chairs, snacks and many colorful drawings from his kids.

Inside Eddie’s Space

There are three other rooms in the shop that serve different purposes in the furniture building process.

“The middle room is actually the room where our lumber comes in,” Eddie says. “We go through 10 to 20,000 board feet a year.”

That is roughly 50 average size trees per year.

The next room is where he spends a lot of his time, and it’s where Eddie first learned a lot of his wood working from Jim. Wood pieces are cut here, sanded and glued together. A lot of the large machinery is in here, like Eddie’s dovetail machine.

At about 1,000 pounds, the 1920’s model dovetail makes joints to connect drawer sides together. The joints themselves kind of look like birds – hence the name dovetail.

The machine roars when Eddie puts a wooden drawer inside of it.

Credit Caitlin Tan
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A planer machine in Jim’s shop. The planer makes all the wood the same thickness.

The third room is the finishing room, where pieces are painted with a finish and left to dry.

The Tradition Lives On

A lot of Eddie’s clients are within the tri-state region including West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ohio. His pieces are no less expensive than Jim’s, but he says the price point isn’t the focus of his work.

“It doesn’t necessarily matter how much money they make a year or who can afford it, as much as who can appreciate it,” Eddie says.

Although ultimately a lot of people do not have the money for an $800 chair, Eddie does have an order list for six months out, much like Jim did.

Still, Jim says furniture making is much a labor of love.

“You never want to look at what you’re making on the hour because it’s going to be horrible,” he says. “You have to love what you’re doing, and you need to marry well.”

Despite the aspects of financial uncertainty associated with the business, Eddie maintains that the quality and lifetime warranty of his furniture keeps customers coming back.

Jim says Eddie is enhancing the business aspect of the shop while still maintaining the history of the craft.

“I never really have enjoyed the business part of being in business,” Jim says. “I truly think Eddie is better at the business end of business than I ever was.”

Credit Caitlin Tan
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The 7-foot oak table in Eddie’s finishing room. Last touches, like a paint finish, are done in the room.

Much like it was for Jim, Eddie says it is important to pass down the craft.

Eddie now teaches woodworking classes at a work training program based in Wayne County. One of his students has even gone on to work in the industry.

This story is part of an episode of Inside Appalachia that explores alternative cultures and economies. To listen to the full episode click here.

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