This is going to be a great addition to our group! :)
Kelly
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Article for discussion: The Coal Industry in PA
King Coal Country Debates a Sacrilege, Gas Heat
By IAN URBINA
Published: June 10, 2008/New York Times
POTTSVILLE, Pa. — Over the last 150 years, Schuylkill County has been famous for a rare hard coal called anthracite that fed the explosive growth of the East Coast during the Industrial Revolution, fostered the rise of the United Mine Workers union and powered many of the factories that supplied troops through both world wars.
“Coal is part of us,” said William Liptok, the director of the public works department in Schuylkill County in eastern Pennsylvania.
Now county officials here are considering the unthinkable: converting from homegrown anthracite to natural gas at the county courthouse and prison. The proposal has led to outrage and soul-searching from state lawmakers and county residents who say it insults local history and sends the wrong message about the area’s leading export, which has been in decline for years.
“Heritage should account for something,” said James J. Rhoades, a Republican state senator from Schuylkill County.
But Mantura M. Gallagher, chairwoman of the Schuylkill County commissioners, which last month took up the proposal from Honeywell International Inc. to replace two coal-fired boilers that heat the courthouse and prison, said the commission could not spend “taxpayer money sentimentally.”
The Honeywell bid, which also includes a new energy-efficient lighting system and an updated telephone system, would save the county a projected $3.2 million over 15 years. “You can’t pay millions of dollars for nostalgia,” Ms. Gallagher said.
Under pressure from coal companies, the county gave them until last Friday to submit a counterproposal. Only one company, Reading Anthracite, made a submission, though details were not available Monday.
“I’d call this the last of the last gasps for anthracite,” said Walter Licht, co-author of “The Face of Decline: The Pennsylvania Anthracite Region in the Twentieth Century.”
For decades, local officials have tried to block natural gas pipelines from crossing Pennsylvania and passed ordinances requiring public buildings to use anthracite, but the recent debate has raised a thorny question about how much is too much to pay to protect local industry and history. The natural gas proposal is especially bitter for a region that has been in slow decline for more than 50 years as the rest of the nation has shifted to bituminous coal, which is easier to extract and, unlike anthracite, is enjoying a renaissance.
It all started in 2006, when the county asked for proposals to replace the heating systems and Honeywell was the only company to respond. Honeywell also offered to pay for the difference if its cost-saving estimates were incorrect.
Even if the price is not better, Mr. Rhoades said, an anthracite company should get the county contract if it is close to competitive, to ensure that the jobs, taxes and heritage stay in the county. He declined, however, to set a number on how “close” the anthracite bid should be.
Mr. Rhoades said it would not be the first time the county had considered local culture in making financial decisions. He cited the recent sale of a historic building to Pennsylvania State University, rather than to the highest bidder, because the university could better preserve the building’s history.
Nearly all of the nation’s anthracite deposits are in eight counties in eastern Pennsylvania between the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers. The coal is prized because it burns longer and produces less acid-rain pollutants since it has a high carbon and low sulfur content.
But what makes this brittle and lustrous rock, often known as black diamond, so hard and pure is that it is often deeper and under greater pressure than other forms of coal, which also explains why it is expensive and dangerous to extract.
The anthracite mines in this area have seen more than 30,000 deaths since 1870, and were the site of the great anthracite strike of 1902, which propelled the United Mine Workers of America to ascendancy and required the intervention of President Theodore Roosevelt as most of the East Coast’s major cities were on the brink of losing heat.
With the shift to bituminous coal, however, domestic anthracite production has fallen to 1.5 million tons in 2006, from 46 million tons in 1950.
Since most of the mines in the area have closed and been flooded, local leaders have shifted their efforts in recent years to attracting prisons, landfills and casinos to the area. The skyrocketing cost of home heating has created a niche market for small anthracite-burning stoves to supplement home heating, but oil prices would have to rise a lot more for that demand to make a real financial difference to the region, said Mr. Licht, the author.
Brian R. Rich, president of the Reading Anthracite Company, has bigger hopes. He said anthracite was poised to make a broader comeback as the price of oil had made all forms of coal more competitive.
“These people have it exactly backwards,” Mr. Rich hollered over the dragging rumble of a four-story-tall dragline shovel at his anthracite strip mine in Wadesville, Pa., about three miles from Pottsville.
Mr. Rich said he had seen a 20 percent growth in revenue in the last five years as the price of anthracite rose to about $150 a ton, up from $70. “What the county is doing,” he said, “is damaging the esprit de corps of all anthracite workers at a time when those officials should be doing the opposite.”
Downtown here, anthracite’s impact is unmistakable. A five-foot-tall boulder of the shiny rock sits in front of the Reading Anthracite building. At the Sovereign Bank, formerly known as Miners National Bank, the cast-bronze doors depict scenes of deep mining operations.
“Coal is part of us,” said William Liptok, director of the county’s public works department.
Not only does nearly every family in town have roots in mining, Mr. Liptok said, but virtually everyone breathes in coal dust, since it wafts into the air in the winter when trucks remove the boilers’ ashes.
Lisa M. Mahall, the Schuylkill County engineer and real estate director, said shifting from anthracite was not a decision made lightly, but she remained skeptical that anthracite companies could compete.
Even though anthracite is cheaper per unit of energy than natural gas, the coal boilers are more expensive to operate and repair than gas boilers, Ms. Mahall said.
Asked if the cost savings by shifting to gas would involve layoffs, Ms. Mahall said no, adding, however, that it would involve cutting back on overtime.
Roy Manbeck, 61, who draws a quarter of his income by hauling 400 tons of anthracite to the prison and courthouse each year, said he found himself caught between two unattractive prospects.
“If I don’t have anthracite to haul, I’m out of work and in big trouble,” he said. “I’m also not thrilled with the idea of seeing taxes keep going up to pay for heating.”
By IAN URBINA
Published: June 10, 2008/New York Times
POTTSVILLE, Pa. — Over the last 150 years, Schuylkill County has been famous for a rare hard coal called anthracite that fed the explosive growth of the East Coast during the Industrial Revolution, fostered the rise of the United Mine Workers union and powered many of the factories that supplied troops through both world wars.
“Coal is part of us,” said William Liptok, the director of the public works department in Schuylkill County in eastern Pennsylvania.
Now county officials here are considering the unthinkable: converting from homegrown anthracite to natural gas at the county courthouse and prison. The proposal has led to outrage and soul-searching from state lawmakers and county residents who say it insults local history and sends the wrong message about the area’s leading export, which has been in decline for years.
“Heritage should account for something,” said James J. Rhoades, a Republican state senator from Schuylkill County.
But Mantura M. Gallagher, chairwoman of the Schuylkill County commissioners, which last month took up the proposal from Honeywell International Inc. to replace two coal-fired boilers that heat the courthouse and prison, said the commission could not spend “taxpayer money sentimentally.”
The Honeywell bid, which also includes a new energy-efficient lighting system and an updated telephone system, would save the county a projected $3.2 million over 15 years. “You can’t pay millions of dollars for nostalgia,” Ms. Gallagher said.
Under pressure from coal companies, the county gave them until last Friday to submit a counterproposal. Only one company, Reading Anthracite, made a submission, though details were not available Monday.
“I’d call this the last of the last gasps for anthracite,” said Walter Licht, co-author of “The Face of Decline: The Pennsylvania Anthracite Region in the Twentieth Century.”
For decades, local officials have tried to block natural gas pipelines from crossing Pennsylvania and passed ordinances requiring public buildings to use anthracite, but the recent debate has raised a thorny question about how much is too much to pay to protect local industry and history. The natural gas proposal is especially bitter for a region that has been in slow decline for more than 50 years as the rest of the nation has shifted to bituminous coal, which is easier to extract and, unlike anthracite, is enjoying a renaissance.
It all started in 2006, when the county asked for proposals to replace the heating systems and Honeywell was the only company to respond. Honeywell also offered to pay for the difference if its cost-saving estimates were incorrect.
Even if the price is not better, Mr. Rhoades said, an anthracite company should get the county contract if it is close to competitive, to ensure that the jobs, taxes and heritage stay in the county. He declined, however, to set a number on how “close” the anthracite bid should be.
Mr. Rhoades said it would not be the first time the county had considered local culture in making financial decisions. He cited the recent sale of a historic building to Pennsylvania State University, rather than to the highest bidder, because the university could better preserve the building’s history.
Nearly all of the nation’s anthracite deposits are in eight counties in eastern Pennsylvania between the Susquehanna and Delaware Rivers. The coal is prized because it burns longer and produces less acid-rain pollutants since it has a high carbon and low sulfur content.
But what makes this brittle and lustrous rock, often known as black diamond, so hard and pure is that it is often deeper and under greater pressure than other forms of coal, which also explains why it is expensive and dangerous to extract.
The anthracite mines in this area have seen more than 30,000 deaths since 1870, and were the site of the great anthracite strike of 1902, which propelled the United Mine Workers of America to ascendancy and required the intervention of President Theodore Roosevelt as most of the East Coast’s major cities were on the brink of losing heat.
With the shift to bituminous coal, however, domestic anthracite production has fallen to 1.5 million tons in 2006, from 46 million tons in 1950.
Since most of the mines in the area have closed and been flooded, local leaders have shifted their efforts in recent years to attracting prisons, landfills and casinos to the area. The skyrocketing cost of home heating has created a niche market for small anthracite-burning stoves to supplement home heating, but oil prices would have to rise a lot more for that demand to make a real financial difference to the region, said Mr. Licht, the author.
Brian R. Rich, president of the Reading Anthracite Company, has bigger hopes. He said anthracite was poised to make a broader comeback as the price of oil had made all forms of coal more competitive.
“These people have it exactly backwards,” Mr. Rich hollered over the dragging rumble of a four-story-tall dragline shovel at his anthracite strip mine in Wadesville, Pa., about three miles from Pottsville.
Mr. Rich said he had seen a 20 percent growth in revenue in the last five years as the price of anthracite rose to about $150 a ton, up from $70. “What the county is doing,” he said, “is damaging the esprit de corps of all anthracite workers at a time when those officials should be doing the opposite.”
Downtown here, anthracite’s impact is unmistakable. A five-foot-tall boulder of the shiny rock sits in front of the Reading Anthracite building. At the Sovereign Bank, formerly known as Miners National Bank, the cast-bronze doors depict scenes of deep mining operations.
“Coal is part of us,” said William Liptok, director of the county’s public works department.
Not only does nearly every family in town have roots in mining, Mr. Liptok said, but virtually everyone breathes in coal dust, since it wafts into the air in the winter when trucks remove the boilers’ ashes.
Lisa M. Mahall, the Schuylkill County engineer and real estate director, said shifting from anthracite was not a decision made lightly, but she remained skeptical that anthracite companies could compete.
Even though anthracite is cheaper per unit of energy than natural gas, the coal boilers are more expensive to operate and repair than gas boilers, Ms. Mahall said.
Asked if the cost savings by shifting to gas would involve layoffs, Ms. Mahall said no, adding, however, that it would involve cutting back on overtime.
Roy Manbeck, 61, who draws a quarter of his income by hauling 400 tons of anthracite to the prison and courthouse each year, said he found himself caught between two unattractive prospects.
“If I don’t have anthracite to haul, I’m out of work and in big trouble,” he said. “I’m also not thrilled with the idea of seeing taxes keep going up to pay for heating.”
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