3

Alabama Helena

* 3 *

The miners have to trade checks. But Johnnie - he
trades his check for snuff and it isn't above the
popular price. Then he swaps the snuff to me for
groceries. Pretty smart that."

Johnnie's face bears the unmistakable mark of years
underground. It is pockmarked and lined with blue scars;
wounds that healed over coal dust. His hands are
gnarled, with stubby fingers. Over all are the identi-
fying blue marks. The introductory handshake was like
rubbing a piece of oak bark.

"Shucks," Johnnie grinned, "I can tell you plenty
'bout minin' 'round here, and show you plenty, too.
Only I'd better go home to do it. Hattie don't like
to keep supper waitin'. I gotta get home with the
baby's candy too."

Helena's main street becomes an ordinary road a
few hundred feet west of Luther Mullins' store.
Johnnie led the way past houses in every known state
of disrepair, all facing the road.

"See how the porches are slap up a'gin' the road?
I leave for work about five o'clock to walk the three
miles to Paramount by work time. In hot weather, a
lotta folks sleep on them porches in practically
nothin'. Some of them oversleep. Some mornin's
I'm late for work. Do you blame me?"

After nearly half-a-mile, the road suddenly tops
a small rise. In a little valley below is a cluster of
fairly new, unpainted houses, slightly weather-worn.

The houses are bungalows of four and five

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