Tower Colliery workers leave with heads held high

Tower Colliery workers leave with heads held high

Jan 27 2008 by James McCarthy, Wales On Sunday

A 240-strong band of brothers at the Tower Colliery have hung up their helmets for the last time, but JAMES MCCARTHY reports they can all leave with their heads held high...

VICTORIES don’t come much sweeter.

Thirteen years after being told by taskmasters British Coal their pit could not turn a profit, the miners of Tower Colliery have hung up their pit helmets and lamps for the last time.

On their terms. For the right reasons. The mine really is empty now.

More than seven million tonnes – £300m worth – of coal has been sold around the world since this 240-strong band of brothers were told it wasn’t economically viable.

They have left their pit for the last time with their heads held high, their work an indictment against the then Tory Government’s pit-closure policy.

The world and his wife turned up to say goodbye. There were more photographers pushing to get the best shot than there were miners to pose for pictures on Friday.

A tiny woman from Channel Four News looked fabulously out of place, tottering about the stark Hirwaun landscape in a pink overcoat. Another almost took my eye out, thrusting a mic under pit chairman Tyrone O’Sullivan’s nose.

London media daaah-lings with cut-glass accents strained to understand Valleys voices.

And the 62-year-old (below) took it all in his stride, graciously complying with countless requests for interviews from radio, TV and newspapers, joyfully clenching his fist at the behest of snappers with absurdly long lenses.

“There are mixed emotions. We have created history. We have proved working people can change the world,” he said.

Facing a bank of cameras he added: “This brings back huge memories. I have marched like this through seven strikes as well and each one we have tried to make a difference.

“Miners have never sat back and let the world change them. We have tried to make the world change and make it a better place for all.”

Les Jones, 55, worked 27 years at the coal face. He said: “I have very fond memories. There have been lots of various managers saying they are going to get me, but I’m still here.

“There will be life after Tower. I hope to do something, I don’t know what. It might well be the time to put my feet up. But then, I’ve got ’er indoors nagging me!”

Anyone with coal on their faces was ripe to be pounced on by the media scrum.

Stuart Griffin, eyes shining through a layer of soot, was resigned to the closure. The 49-year-old said: “We’ve had a good time here, but we all knew it was coming to an end. But when it comes to the end, it is a horrible feeling.

“We did not know when we came back here in January 1995 whether we would be here in February 1995, but we are still here 13 years down the line.

“But now it’s gone that is the end of it. We might shed a few tears after a few pints, but at the moment everyone is happy on the outside.”

He turned and walked toward the pithead, stopping for more pictures for snappers keen to get themselves an iconic image.

Rhondda Cynon Taf mayor Jane Ward was among the hundreds who turned up to say farewell. The canteen was packed with families chatting over steaming cups of tea. Outside children clutched parents for fear of losing them in the swarming crowd.

“This is the last of the deep mines in Wales,” she said.

“I’m sorry that after all these years we are seeing the end of it in these valleys. I’m delighted the boys have been able to hold on this long and prove the Government wrong.

“A few more should have done that a few years ago and we would be in a better situation. I would like to wish them all the best.” Placards bearing pictures of the works with the words ‘Goodbye Tower’ and ‘Thank you Tower Colliery’ were waved by workers and their families.

The old scarlet NUM Tower Lodge banner, made famous when the men walked back to work under it 13 years ago, was raised for the last time for a symbolic march to the gate.

John Woods will be helping man the pit for the next few months as equipment is salvaged for sale.

The 57-year-old dad-of-four first went underground at 15. He said: “It was a success for the last 13 years.

“We have not had any lay offs. We have always had a weekly wage.

“It is sad, but we have accepted it has got to close.

He added: “In the backs of our minds we knew we could do it if we stuck together. And the 200-odd that got took on in the beginning knew they would make it a success, and they did.”

After the march everyone made their way down to the nearby Penywaun Club – where the decision to buy the pit was made – for beer and sandwiches. Photos of miners adorn the rooms there. One wall is given up to a mural of a red dragon clasping a rugby ball. A glitter ball hangs from the ceiling.

In the hall, hundreds of men and women sipped pints, bemused by the media frenzy around them.

MP Ann Clywd took to the stage. She had been loved here ever since she spent 27 hours down the mine, refusing to leave until the Coal Board agreed to save the pit.

She said: “MPs in other coal communities are really very envious of Tower. They always say to me ‘I wish we had done the same thing’. I say you would have needed the men of Tower and their families to do the same thing.”

There was rapturous applause. Tyrone O’Sullivan was next to speak, paying tribute to the “finest bunch of men I’ve ever worked with”.

Recalling the fight to keep their livelihoods, he told the packed room: “They said ‘Mr O’Sullivan, stop fighting. It is impossible to get the coal out. And that’s not the bad news. The bad news is that no-one wants to buy the coal’.

“From that scenario over the next five months we went out and signed a contract with a company for £9m per year for five years.”

There were more cheers.

Next NUM Tower Lodge chairman Dai Davies called his colleagues “the bravest men I’ve ever known”.

The 63-year-old, who had worked at Tower since 1965, said: “We have come to the end of production and there is no Tory Government closing us. British Coal have not closed us. No-one outside Tower has closed us. We have made our decision. We have got to the end with our pride intact. With our dignity intact.”

Again, the room filled with clapping and shouting.

Mike Barnes, 56, was hoping to get a new job at the drift mine in Aberpergwm. He said: “All the guys here in this hall, when we heard we had the mine were all overjoyed. It was like another Christmas present at the time.”

His wife Dawn, 52, said: “It’s sad, it’s the end of an era.

“It has been a big mining community and with it being the last pit you are not going to get these people gathering together anymore.

“With the pit closing you’re not going to get these social gatherings, so friendships will dwindle as well.”

That may be. But about 70 of the men will work in the nearby Aberpergwm mine and another 50 will go to the Unity mine.

And Tyrone O’Sullivan is hoping to create 1,000 jobs on the land left behind.

Tower is gone. But its spirit will live on forever.