Julia’s Story: The Hillcrest Mine Disaster.

 Reprinted from the Frank Slide Interpretive Centre’s publication, Turtle Times, Summer 1989. Minor changes have been made to the text for consistency in style and dates 

On June 19th, 1914, at 9:30 am, an explosion ripped through Hillcrest’s #1 mine after 235 men had entered it to work. One hundred and eighty-nine men would not leave alive. It has been said that not a single person in the Crowsnest Pass escaped losing a friend or relative. More than 130 women became widows, responsible for more than 400 children. June 19th marks the 98th anniversary of the Hillcrest Mine Disaster, Canada’s WORST mining disaster. Following is the story of Julia Makin, whose father, Wasil “Charles” Elick, was killed in this tragic event.

“Of course, I remember the Hillcrest mine disaster. My Father was killed in it. It was June 19th, 1914. We were at school. I was eight years old, in Grade Two. It must have been about nine o’clock when we heard the whistle blow. We didn’t hear the explosion, but those whistles kept blowing and blowing. At first, we started for home, but everyone was going to the mine. Mrs. Allcroft had a pail with coffee and sandwiches in it, and I helped her carry it. When we arrived at the washhouse, they had a big rope tied around it to keep everyone back. Every time the coal cars came up from the mine with the bodies wrapped up in blankets, the women would run to the cars. The mounted police were there in their red uniforms keeping them back. Well, everyone from town was there, even the little kids. We were scared of the mine rescue men. They had all this equipment on, gas masks and breathing apparatus. We could see wagons at the washhouse, and the men were wrapped in cheesecloth like mummies. They brought them to town and laid them out at the Halton-Moser store and at the Union Hall.

It was snowing when we buried them—snowing in June. At the funeral, they had all the caskets lined up. Every time someone opened one up, I kept running up to see my Dad, but I never did. They took them in wagons. The horses had fancy red plumes on their heads, and the wagons had lace things over them, and the band was playing the funeral march. It took a couple of days to bury them. There were 189 men killed. They had a big trench, and they buried them two-by-two, and they covered them all. My Dad was only 42. You know, he was also one of the men trapped in the Frank Mine when the mountain fell in 1903. They got out of that okay, and then he ended up getting killed in the Hillcrest Mine. Mind you, some families lost more than one. Some were only 17 years old—just young kids.

My brother, John, was born the day after the explosion. Probably due to the shock, although we didn’t know anything about that at the time. Didn’t even know Mother was expecting—not like kids now. And that night, a big tree fell on our house and destroyed it. Mother buried her husband, had a baby, and lost her home all within two days. And it was snowing in June.”