The Demon Miner

The Anchor Hocking Glass Corporation brings you crime photographer. Oh Miss Williams, Casey. Hi, Ethobert. Ethobert, do you know what Casey just wanted to do? What, Miss Williams? Well, they just put in a freshman sidewalk next door, and Casey wanted to stop and write his name in it.

He'll never grow up. Well, Casey's a great name. Oh, well, I'll go you one better than that. Oh, hello, Mr. Marvin. Sure. What about Anchor Hocking? Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is Tony Marvin.

Every week at this time, the anchor-hocking glass corporation of Lancaster, Ohio and its more than 10,000 employees bring you another adventure of Casey crime photographer, Ace Cameraman, who covers the crime news of a great city, written by Alonso Dean Cole, our adventure for tonight, the Demon Minor.

The Demon Minor. Morning. A desolate little graveyard. In the distance, beyond the great tombstones, can be seen as stark outlines of a towering coalbreaker and row upon row of coal miners' cottages. Shivering in the coal rain, a small group of men stands there headed.

Won't be long now, Eddie. No, Frank. In a couple of minutes, they'll start shoveling dirt and pour Joe's coffin. This is the sixth time in just the last two months that you and me have come to the graveyard to watch a guy we've worked with put away.

I'm thinking of that, Frank. I've known plenty of accidents to happen, but when six in a row get killed by fallen roofrock, one right after another in the same mine level, well, it makes you wonder.

Yeah, especially when you're cutting out coal in that level yourself like we are. Some of the guys say there's a hudou on Bristol level, Eddie. Old Gus Habsle says there's worse than that. I've heard what that guy says, but that old guy's crazy.