An obituary for the coal mine - By Thomas Rother

Germany is closing its last remaining coal mines. Now is the time to remember that coal production was the impetus for German industrialization and what made it possible.

It all began on unproductive meadows and in primordial forests. In the mid-19th century, in a sparsely settled land with modest farmsteads, the sudden, feverish mining of coal around two of the larger towns, Dortmund and Duisburg, dug the foundations for Germany's subsequent economic might. The burrowing marked the birth of Germany's own Wild West. The Ruhrland expanded into the Ruhr region, which made possible the fortune of both the German Empire and then the German Republic. After World War II, it was the Ruhr coal miners who once again got the economy back on its feet. The writer Heinrich Böll believed their profession should be given the highest rank of them all.

The actual birthplace was Schalke Forest. Friedrich Grillo, one of the Ruhr's founding fathers (responsible for the Graf Bismarck and Consolidation mines, among others) laid the first cornerstone in the heart of the Schalke primordial forest. One hundred people lived in the area. Six years later, in 1868, there were 6,000. Grillo wrote: "There is not one tree left!"

In the 1840s, in the hamlet of Catermberg, north of a small town called Essen, a farmer named Bullmann wished that someone would buy up this useless meadow, which supposedly had coal. He thought it was nonsense, but would later be proven wrong.

Franz Haniel, a Duisburg trader, made the purchase and brought in steam engines to mine for coal. That was in 1847. It would prove to be the single most significant year for coal mining and industrialization in the German lands. Until then, the black diamonds could only be accessed horizontally, using the Ruhr valley caves. Haniel proved that deeply buried coal could also be reached - and that the effort could pay off.

He had just acquired a small smelting mill, the "Hütte zur guten Hoffnung" in Sterkrade near Oberhausen, from a widow named Krupp. Now he could mine his own coal, from a shaft he gave the politically apt name of Zollverein (customs union). With his own coke produced from that coal, he could manufacture his own steel in the mill.

The process became a blessing for the Ruhr region and for Germany. Coal's triumphal march now went rapidly north, along the Emscher River. Bismarck, Nordstern, Shamrock, Erin, Hansa, and the many other shafts produced the stuff the country was ravenous for: coal and more coal. The people and the land were in an uproar. Villages became cities. An insignificant agricultural strip became Germany's industrial heartland.

The writer Wolf Schneider has vividly portrayed this turbulent story: "Coal for the steam engines, steam engines for the factories and mines, railroads for transporting coal, coal for the locomotives, iron and steel for tracks and machines, more iron and machines thanks to more coal. That was the multi-cogged gear mechanism that pulled the Ruhr region forward." 

Coal was everything. The "coal jobs," which remained at the forefront of that gearbox until very recently, have sparked several mass migrations since the mid-19th century that have left the region the multi-ethnic melting pot that it is today.

Hundreds of thousands came looking for work, generations of East Prussians, Poles, Turks, Dortmundians and Duisburgers, Italians, Bavarians and Silesians toiled underground to multiply the wealth above. The coal country between Moers and Unna has become home to them all, those the poet Novalis called the "masters of the earth."

Despite structural change and new industries, it was coal that created and characterized this unique region for 150 years. Cultural efforts were recognized when Essen won the title of Europe's "City of Culture" for 2010. "The cooperation of culture and industry has a long tradition," said mining company Ruhrkohle AG in the 1980s. "Mining has contributed much to this cooperation and will continue to do so." No mine was without a lecture and concert hall, library, musical and cultural union, choir, museums and theaters. The annual Ruhrfestspiele festival has stood out as a cultural venue.

Where the Schalke Forest stood 150 years ago, the heavens now resonate to the sound of violins when Carmen is bedded on roses in the Arena (the home stadium of Bundesliga club Schalke 04) which is a sea of royal blue when the right team scores. The facility even hosts cross-country ski events when it doesn't snow (thanks to artificial snow). Meanwhile, on Bullmann's meadow in Essen-Katernberg, tourists from Munich, Berlin and Amsterdam admire the "Zollverein World Cultural Heritage Site."

Forty-one years ago, there were no cheers and no admiration. Miners from the "Bismarck" shaft silently carried protest banners in the first big demonstration against plans to close coal mines. The banners said "Don't Let Gelsenkirchen Become a Poor House."

For the first time, black flags warned: "First the mines die, then the city." For the next two decades, that slogan would remain a familiar one.

On Dec. 31, 1986, Zollverein's familiar announcement as the crews emerged from the depths of the earth, "Good luck, the miner's coming," became a swan song. The miner went away, and the last still-operating shaft in what was once Europe's biggest mining town closed for good. By 2018 at the latest, that will have been the fate of every coal-mining shaft in Germany.

- Former coal miner Thomas Rother is a writer and graphic artist who has authored several books on the history of the Ruhr Region. He lives and works in the Zollverein "Art Mine."