It's Picher - not Pitcher!

All my life I've listened to the stories that Mom would tell about growing up in Picher, Oklahoma. She told us about the White Bird Elementary School, working at the drug store and as a car hop. We heard about how her step-father, Paul Brown, was killed in a mining accident in Cardin, the next town over. We heard about her little brother and sister, who were born and died there and the trips to Baxter Springs, Kansas to shop and riding the train from Carthage, Missouri to Summit, Arkansas when they would come home for a visit. But I will admit I never gave Picher much real thought. I'd never been there and the only things I ever knew about mines were the zinc mines in Rush, Arkansas where Mom would live when she wasn't in Oklahoma. All these years passed without my giving Picher a thought.

In May 2008 I was in my kitchen and I heard something on the news about Picher, Oklahoma. I ran to the TV and they were showing images from Picher. An EF4 tornado had nearly wiped Picher off the map. (As an aside note: This was the first time that I realized it was spelled Picher, not Pitcher). I watched with horror as they showed the devastation. After all, this was Mom's childhood home and I felt a connection.

As the days went by there were more stories on the news about Picher that caught my attention. But one in particular pulled me to the TV like a magnet. I heard the news anchor say "the tornado just saved the government a lot of money." He said that the town of Picher was part of the Tar Creek Superfund Site. SUPERFUND SITE! "What?" I have taught High School Environmental Science for several years and discussed the superfund sites with my students and had no idea what was going on in Picher. I began to read up on this and what I have learned makes me sick inside.

The town of Picher was established in 1917. Zinc was discovered, World War I was being fought and zinc was needed. The nearby towns of Cardin, and Treece, Kansas, along with Picher became the world's leading suppliers of zinc. Picher boomed to a population of 25,000 but after the War people left until World War II and the mines boomed again. After WW II the population dropped to 1500. Then the real problems began. Picher is caving in, (Mom told me that at one time you could walk underground from Picher, OK to Joplin, MO in the mine tunnels), the mines are filling with water and waste water filled with lead is leaching into the soil, the mountains of chat piles leach lead laced water when it rains. I read that the kids would play on the chat piles (which my mom had done) or played in the drainage ditches. If the kids ate without washing their hands, the lead would get in their blood stream and then travel to their brains. Learning disabilities became common in the Picher/Cardin school.

The water in Picher is rusty looking. There is a documentary called The Creek Runs Red and another one called Tar Creek that profiles the demise of Picher. A&E produced a series called Life After People and they also profiled the town. All of this really got my attention and I decided to go see it for myself.

JC and I, armed with the camera, and notes that a lady I met in a flea market in Miami gave me, headed up Oklahoma highway 69 to Picher. I had read that the chat piles were so big that they could be seen on Google Earth but I was not prepared for what I saw. It was like a small mountain range. They are everywhere. What few houses that are left are falling down and condemned. The water tower still stands, a few buildings and some signs. You can see the foundations from the houses that were blown away or have been bulldozed by the Superfund crews. Mom said that she had lived between the Christian Church and the Masonic Lodge on South Picher St. It was like finding a needle in a haystack. Most of the street signs were gone and many of the streets were blocked off for safety reasons. We drove, walked, looked and looked until we saw a church! We walked up to it and it was the Christian Church. It was the only structure left on the block. I called Mom and asked her some questions.  She said to look to the right and see if the ball field was still there. It was. I looked for the drainage ditches that Mom described and found some - filled with red water! I found Tar Creek and it was filled with red water too. I have to say that this was one of the saddest places I've ever been. Yet, it was home for so many.

When we first got to Miami I wanted to get some information from the museum but it was closed. There was a flea market across the street and I went in to look around. A little lady there asked me why I was visiting Miami. I told her I had come to see Picher and she said "Honey, don't you know, it's gone?" I told her what I knew and why I was there and she told me this story: It's the story of Jackie Birzzale. Jackie's family had always lived in Picher. She was a third generation resident. Jackie never married and taught school in Stillwell, Oklahoma. She would ride the bus to Stillwell, where she kept an apartment, but on the weekends, holidays and in the summer, she returned to Picher. Jackie was very old in 2010 when they were told that everyone had to be out by a certain day in August or the police would come and force you to leave. Jackie's house had survived the tornado of 2008 and she refused to leave. The police told her that she could stay one last night and they would get her the next day. Jackie died that night. They found her the next day still kneeling in prayer by her bedside. The found no cause of death. The story gave me chills. Picher was her home.

I thought about Jackie as we looked around the area and how much she must have loved that town, as did others. The mascot for Picher school was the Gorilla, which I thought was an odd mascot. The last night that we were in Miami I was walking out of a convenience store and saw a guy, probably around 25, and he had on a shirt that said: Picher Gorillas, Once a Gorilla, Always a Gorilla. I thought of Jackie and smiled.