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UNCLE PETE


I dedicate this page to my Uncle Pete (Pete Giovetti), my mother's brother, who was killed in the Montana mine disaster in 1943. I was only two at the time of his death but I feel I knew him from the many stories my mother told. This was to be my uncle's last day in the mine. He and his family had just purchased a small farm and were planning to move in the next day.

SMITH MINE NUMBER THREE



Some folks see at evening,
the sinkin' of the sun;
but I live in the Beartooths
and I was never one.
It's not so much the sun that sinks.
The Beartooths climb up high;
and through the day they pierce their way
through distant miles of sky.
At evenin' time they reach the sun;
and there, they stop and pray.
I like to think they'll pray for those
who'll die down here today.

Seventy-two men came t' work
at Smith Mine number Three.
Some miners well might leave alive;
but one will not be me.
Four other men were trapped with me.
the four of them are dead.
It doesn't take too smart a' man
t' see what lies ahead.
The mine's smelled foul all this shift.
The shaft on down was gassed.
Someone had an open flame.
The mine shook from the blast.

God! Oh God! Don't leave me
in this Smith Mine Number Three.
My wife is up there waiting'.
Don't take my life from me.
We planned on going into town,
tonight, my wife and I;
to dance and drink and meet with friends.
This ain't no time t' die.
I wish that I could hold again
the hands that waved goodby;
and see her soft and gentle face,
just once before I die.

There's songs t' sing and jigs t' dance.
This ain't a time for cryin'>
There's trout t' catch and elk t' hunt.
This ain't a time for dyin'.
But then, I guess there'd never be
a time that would be right
t' say goodbye t' all of this
and pass into the night.
There'll never be a time that's right
for givin' up and dyin';
and when I leave my love, I'll go
a' clawin' coal and tryin'.

There's no way out. There's no way in.
The rescuers can't save me.
God! Oh God! Don't take away
this fragile life you gave me.
I guess by now the Beartooths
have climbed up through the sky,
and their snowy peaks are prayin'
as you bless them from on high.
Hear their prayer ... and hear my prayer.
Stay with me God I pray.
Have mercy on us miners
who die down here today.

Bette Wolf Duncan
copyright 2000
Printed with permission



Seventy-four miners died in the mine on February 27, 1943. Three shifts were working six days a week to meet the coal needs of a nation at war. A number of the Smith No.3 miners who might otherwise have stayed at home, came to work that day. It was Saturday, and they were getting time-and-a-half. Bill Pelo had a flat tire and John Hodnik overslept. Both just barely made it to go down with the morning shift. Clarence Williams had been sick and his wife asked him to stay home; but he insisted on going to work rather than miss the overtime pay. It was supposed to be Pete Giovetti's last day as a miner. He and his family had saved enough for a small farm and they were moving there the next day. Joe McDonald was also working his last shift as a miner. He was going to report for military service the next Tuesday. A full shift of seventy-seven men reported for work that morning. Of these miners, only three survived. Later investigations indicate that thirty of the miners probably died instantly in the explosion. The other forty-four were killed later by carbon monoxide gas and lack of oxygen.

Photo courtesy of Gary Robson - www.redlodgebooks.com


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