Everett Creekmore: The Unyielding Shadow of the West Virginia Coal Wars
The rugged, mist-shrouded mountains of West Virginia, where coal veins run like dark blood through the earth, once echoed with more than just the clang of pickaxes and the rumble of coal cars. They resonated with the crack of rifle fire, the shouts of desperate men, and the cries of families caught in the crossfire of America’s most violent labor disputes. In this crucible of industrial conflict, where the aspirations of working-class men clashed violently with the unyielding will of powerful coal barons, figures of legend emerged. Among them, though often cast as an antagonist, was Everett Creekmore – a name that, for many, remains synonymous with the iron fist of the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency and the relentless opposition to unionization.
Creekmore was not a romantic figure like the fiery union organizer Mother Jones, nor a folk hero like the defiant Sheriff Sid Hatfield. Instead, he was the embodiment of the professional enforcer, a man whose steadfast loyalty to his employers and unwavering belief in his mission made him a formidable and feared presence in the West Virginia coalfields during the early 20th century. To understand the depth of the coal wars, one must contend with the perspective and actions of men like Creekmore, who saw themselves not as oppressors, but as upholders of law, order, and property rights in a chaotic land.
Born in rural Virginia in 1888, Everett Creekmore’s path led him into the burgeoning field of private industrial security. He began his career with the notorious Pinkerton National Detective Agency, a training ground for men who would become adept at surveillance, intelligence gathering, and, crucially, strike-breaking. His skills and temperament – calm under pressure, meticulous, and possessing an unyielding resolve – quickly made him a valuable asset. By the late 1910s, he had joined the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, a private security firm founded by Thomas Felts and William Baldwin, which had carved out a lucrative niche providing armed guards, intelligence, and strike-breaking services to the coal companies of Appalachia.
The coal industry in West Virginia was a kingdom unto itself, largely unregulated and fiercely guarded. Companies owned not just the mines, but often the entire towns surrounding them – the houses, stores, schools, and even the local law enforcement. Miners, working in incredibly dangerous conditions for meager wages, lived in perpetual debt to the company store, effectively bound to their employers. When they attempted to organize into unions, seeking better pay, safer conditions, and the basic right to collective bargaining, the coal operators responded with brutal force, and the Baldwin-Felts Agency was their primary weapon.
Creekmore rose through the ranks, becoming one of Baldwin-Felts’ most trusted and senior detectives. His name became known, and dreaded, by union organizers and striking miners throughout the coalfields. He was a man of quiet authority, not given to bombast, but whose presence alone signaled the seriousness of the operators’ intent. He participated in numerous evictions, confrontations, and intelligence operations, but it was his involvement in two of the most infamous episodes of the West Virginia Coal Wars – the Matewan Massacre and the Battle of Blair Mountain – that cemented his place in history.
The Matewan Massacre, on May 19, 1920, stands as a pivotal moment in American labor history. Tensions in the Mingo County town of Matewan had reached a boiling point. Miners were attempting to unionize with the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA), and the Stone Mountain Coal Company, like many others, had hired Baldwin-Felts detectives to evict unionizing miners and their families from company-owned housing. On that fateful day, a contingent of Baldwin-Felts men, led by agents Albert Felts (Thomas Felts’ brother) and Lee Felts, arrived in Matewan, armed with eviction notices and the full authority of their employers. Everett Creekmore was among them, a key figure in the detachment.
As the detectives began their evictions, Matewan’s defiant Mayor, Cabell Testerman, and its popular, pro-union Chief of Police, Sid Hatfield, confronted them. Hatfield, known for his quick temper and unwavering support for the miners, famously declared that the Baldwin-Felts men had no legal authority to make arrests or evictions in Matewan. A standoff ensued, escalating when Albert Felts attempted to arrest Hatfield. Accounts vary wildly, but what is clear is that a sudden, furious gunfight erupted on the town’s main street. When the smoke cleared, ten men lay dead: seven Baldwin-Felts detectives, including Albert and Lee Felts, two miners, and Mayor Testerman.
Everett Creekmore, remarkably, survived the Matewan Massacre. He was caught in the thick of the firefight, a testament to his composure and perhaps a measure of luck. His survival made him a crucial witness for the prosecution in the subsequent murder trials. He testified against Sid Hatfield and his fellow defendants, recounting his version of the events, which painted Hatfield and the miners as the aggressors. Despite Creekmore’s testimony, and the immense pressure from coal operators and state authorities, Sid Hatfield and his co-defendants were ultimately acquitted, a stunning victory for the union movement and a bitter pill for the coal companies and Baldwin-Felts. The acquittal, however, did not bring peace; it only intensified the animosity and set the stage for even greater violence.
The following year, in August 1921, the simmering conflict erupted into full-scale warfare: the Battle of Blair Mountain. Enraged by the continued oppression, the murder of Sid Hatfield (assassinated on the McDowell County courthouse steps by Baldwin-Felts agents, a clear act of revenge), and the denial of their basic rights, thousands of armed miners, led by figures like Frank Keeney and Bill Blizzard, marched towards Logan County, intent on liberating the heavily fortified, anti-union territory and organizing the miners there. This was nothing less than an armed insurrection, the largest of its kind since the Civil War.
On the other side stood the forces of the coal operators, led by the infamous Sheriff Don Chafin of Logan County. Chafin had amassed a private army of deputies, state police, and, crucially, a significant contingent of Baldwin-Felts detectives. Everett Creekmore was once again among these enforcers. From fortified positions on the ridges of Blair Mountain, the mine guards unleashed a torrent of gunfire, and even improvised aerial bombardments, against the advancing miners. For five days, the hills of Logan County were a battleground, a testament to the brutal determination of both sides.
Creekmore’s role at Blair Mountain was consistent with his professional demeanor. He was part of the tactical defense, helping to organize and direct the resistance against the union army. He was a professional soldier in an industrial war, executing orders with precision and resolve. The battle eventually ended with the intervention of federal troops, ordered by President Warren G. Harding, who forced the miners to disperse. The unionization effort in southern West Virginia was crushed, and the coal operators, for a time, reasserted their dominance.
For Everett Creekmore, the Matewan Massacre and the Battle of Blair Mountain were not just historical events; they were the daily reality of his profession. He saw himself as a man of order, operating within the legal framework established by the powerful coal companies. His employers paid him to protect their property, enforce their rules, and resist what they viewed as illegal and disruptive union activities. From his perspective, the miners were often lawless agitators, threatening the very fabric of industrial society and the sanctity of private enterprise. He was, in his own mind, a bulwark against anarchy.
His contemporaries, depending on their allegiance, viewed him in starkly different lights. To the coal operators, he was an invaluable asset – a calm, efficient, and utterly reliable professional who got the job done, no matter how dangerous or unpopular. To the miners and union sympathizers, however, he was a symbol of corporate tyranny, a feared figure whose presence meant eviction, violence, and the suppression of their fundamental rights. Yet, even among those who reviled him, there was often a grudging respect for his unyielding nature and his ability to survive the most brutal confrontations.
After the dust settled on the major coal wars, Everett Creekmore continued his career in security, though the intensity of the industrial conflicts slowly waned. The landscape of labor relations began to shift, albeit slowly and painfully, towards greater recognition of workers’ rights. He eventually retired from the intense, front-line work that had defined his earlier years. Everett Creekmore lived a long life, far removed from the West Virginia battlegrounds, passing away in Florida in 1974 at the age of 86.
Everett Creekmore remains a figure of profound historical significance, not as a hero or a villain in a simplistic narrative, but as a complex man whose life was inextricably woven into the violent tapestry of the American labor movement. He represented the sharp, unyielding edge of corporate power, a force that resisted change with every fiber of its being. His story is a stark reminder of the immense human cost of industrialization and the long, bloody struggle for workers’ rights in America. He was the unwavering shadow, a professional enforcer who, by simply doing his job, helped define one of the most tumultuous and pivotal periods in West Virginia’s, and indeed, America’s, history. To understand the suffering of the miners and the righteousness of their cause, one must also understand the unyielding conviction of men like Everett Creekmore, who stood steadfastly on the other side of the battle lines.
