The Neverending Coal Fire of Pennsylvania

Imagine driving into a ghost town, entirely abandoned, save for a few lonely residents. As you travel down a faded road covered in graffiti, steam rises from the cracks, creating a foggy and increasingly hot atmosphere. Despite what the eerie surroundings might suggest, you haven’t stumbled into Silent Hill, nor are you characters in a B-list horror movie. This little slice of hell is, in fact, Centralia.

Tucked away in central Pennsylvania, about an hour northeast of Harrisburg and roughly the same distance southwest of Scranton, this small, deserted town has been home to an underground mine fire that has burned for over 60 years. Today, we’re diving into the haunting story of Centralia and its never-ending inferno.

Centralia, P.A.

To say that Pennsylvania and the coal mining industry have an intimate relationship would be an understatement. The state holds around 95% of all the anthracite coal, or hard coal, found in the United States, making it virtually the nation’s sole source of this rare substance. While other countries also possess anthracite reserves, the central and northeastern regions of Pennsylvania contain the largest known deposits in the world.

Anthracite sets itself apart from other types of coal by being, quite simply, superior in nearly every way. With its high fixed carbon content and low levels of volatile matter, it burns hotter, slower, and cleaner. It’s also denser and harder than other varieties, making it highly prized for industrial and heating purposes.

As of a 2022 report, Pennsylvania is home to 108 active coal mines, 80 of which are surface mines and 28 underground. In total, the state produces about 40,000 tons of coal annually. However, less than 2,500 of those tons are the rare anthracite, which is only mined in six Pennsylvania counties, including Columbia County.

Coal mining first came to the region in 1842, when large deposits of the sooty substance were discovered in the nearby Buck Mountain. Before long, both open-pit strip mines and underground operations were established, giving rise to several mining towns, including Centralia. In 1862, the Centralia Colliery was founded, formalizing mining efforts in the area. Most of the town’s residents found work with the Locust Mountain Coal and Iron Company, which played a key role in Centralia’s official incorporation in 1866.

In its early years, Centralia flourished. The town boasted multiple hotels, two theaters, and fourteen different stores. However, as anyone who has lived in a mining town can attest, such growth and prosperity are closely tied to the fortunes of the mining industry. When a town is built around a single market, its stability rises and falls with that industry’s success.

Unfortunately for Centralia, coal usage peaked during World War I and steadily declined throughout the 20th century as the world shifted toward more cost-effective energy sources. As the demand for coal diminished, the once bustling and promising town began its slow decline. Despite boasting a population of over 2,500 residents in the 1890 census, that number had dropped to around 1,500 by the 1960s.

The extensive network of underground mines was gradually sealed off, with many abandoned entirely. The open-pit strip mines, long since depleted, were left as gaping scars on the landscape, silent reminders of a potential that never fully materialized.

This is a story all too familiar throughout the Commonwealth, and, indeed, across much of the United States. In Pennsylvania alone, there are over 11,000 abandoned mines. (And yes, as a side note, Pennsylvania is one of just four U.S. states that is officially both a state and a commonwealth and either term is correct.) In these situations, there’s often little that can be done.

More often than not, residents are forced to seek new work and build new lives elsewhere, leaving behind the towns they once called home. Those who remain do their best to adapt, creating new forms of local economy through mining museums, unusual roadside attractions, or even by repurposing old mines for new uses.

A Genius Idea

By 1962, the roughly 1,500 residents still living in Centralia and trying to keep the town alive began facing an entirely new problem. For decades, townspeople had been dumping their trash wherever they pleased, often in old, abandoned mines, creating multiple unregulated dumps throughout the area. This led to an infestation of rats and other vermin, and the pervasive stench became nearly impossible to escape.

The Centralia Council, responsible for making decisions for the town, agreed that something needed to be done, especially with Memorial Day festivities approaching. Although Centralia was far from a thriving city by then, many residents still felt a strong sense of community pride. In response, the council proposed a familiar solution: repurpose one of the empty mining pits as a landfill.

The pit they selected was about 75 feet wide and 50 feet deep, originally excavated around 1935, and had served the town’s needs well. However, it quickly became clear that the accumulated trash was taking up more space than expected. In response, the town council decided the best course of action was to burn the garbage in the pit the same year they had started using it, in 1962.

While today we understand the dangers of burning trash, including the release of toxic fumes that can cause respiratory issues, cancer, and widespread environmental pollution, this awareness developed slowly over the latter half of the 20th century. Even now, in some rural parts of the United States, it’s not uncommon for people to ignore regulations and burn whatever waste they want on their own properties. So, at the time, burning the trash didn’t seem like a major concern. Unfortunately, it wasn’t this act alone, but a separate and far more critical mistake that would turn a local garbage problem into something much worse.

By law, abandoned underground mining areas are required to have their entrances sealed off with a non-combustible shale barrier. This not only helps prevent the spread of contaminated water and hazardous gases into nearby or connected mines but also protects the surrounding environment. However, before the establishment of the Mine Safety and Health Administration (MSHA) in 1977, oversight of the mining industry fell to the Bureau of Mines, an agency that was often underfunded, understaffed, and poorly organized compared to its successor.

As a result, the early years of mining were marked by frequent accidents, numerous fatalities, and a widespread failure to properly seal or document abandoned mine sites. In states like Pennsylvania and Utah, outdoor enthusiasts still occasionally fall into or get lost in these old, forgotten tunnels, which remain scattered across the landscape. Centralia was no exception. Near the chosen location for the town’s garbage-burning pit, an overlooked, 15-foot-deep hole, left behind from earlier underground mining activity, remained open and unnoticed.

It’s believed that when the garbage fire was ignited, the flames spread to nearby carbon-rich refuse and, from there, found their way into the previously overlooked open mine shaft. Once the fire reached the coal-filled underground tunnels, where a web of interconnected seams and old mining operations stretched beneath the entire town, it was too late. Unbeknownst to the citizens of Centralia, a relentless underground fire had begun to burn directly beneath their homes, driveways, churches, and businesses. Life on the surface carried on as usual, while below, the town was quite literally starting to fall apart.

Eternal Flame

While one might assume that a situation like this would demand immediate action, mine fires like this one were, and still are, remarkably common across Pennsylvania. As a result, many are simply left to burn out on their own, since the costs and risks of extinguishing them often outweigh the potential benefits. That said, some early efforts were made to smother the fire using water, clay, and other materials.

These attempts largely failed though, and with limited resources stretched thin by several more severe fires elsewhere in the state, most of these efforts were eventually abandoned. Additionally, few people anticipated just how quickly and widely the fire would spread, assuming it was relatively contained. Life above ground continued much as it always had, with many local mines even remaining open for work.

However, within a few months, on August 9th, 1962, carbon monoxide was detected in Centralia’s mines, forcing the remaining ones to shut down and immediately cutting off the town’s primary source of employment. Despite this, many residents chose to stay, either believing the situation would eventually be resolved or determined to keep the town alive through other means. Unfortunately, this became increasingly difficult as the fire worsened underground, continuing to spread from mine to mine beneath the town.

In 1979, the owner of a local gas station grew curious about whether, and how, the underground fires were affecting the gasoline stored beneath the property. After testing the fuel, they discovered it was 100°F (38°C) hotter than normal. While this temperature wasn’t high enough to pose an immediate safety risk, it gave remaining residents a sobering glimpse into the severity of what was happening below ground. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, government officials conducted regular temperature checks on the fire itself, consistently recording readings over 1,000°F (538°C), with the highest ever recorded reaching an intense 1,300°F (704°C).

Although many residents of Centralia chose to stay, the consequences of the fire weren’t confined to the mines. As local journalist David DeKok described in his 1986 book Unseen Danger, residents frequently dealt with:

“burning eyes, the taste of sulfur, and an acrid odor accompanied by headaches, lassitude, and respiratory troubles”.

But in the 1980s, the situation in Centralia worsened significantly as many of the coal seams began to burn out, undermining the ground beneath the streets and causing sinkholes to open up across the town. In 1981, one of these sinkholes nearly claimed the life of 12-year-old Todd Domboski. While running through a local yard, the ground suddenly gave way beneath him.

Fortunately, Todd managed to grab onto a nearby tree root and hold on until help arrived and pulled him to safety. Although he escaped unharmed, the incident drew national attention and sparked both public concern and legislative calls for a lasting solution to Centralia’s seemingly unstoppable fire.

Eminent Domain

Between 1962 and 1983, as previously noted, a few attempts were made to extinguish or control the fire, with approximately $7 million allocated to the effort during that period, including funds for relocation assistance for residents who chose to leave. However, after Todd Dombowski’s near-death experience, state officials began to take the situation more seriously and started exploring the possibility of fully extinguishing the fire.

By 1984, estimates suggested that the cost of putting out the fire would be around $660 million, equivalent to just over $2 billion today. This was a staggering sum compared to the mere $50,000 it would have cost to address the issue back in 1962, had the proper means been available at the time.

Given the overwhelming cost of a viable solution to the fire, many officials concluded that it made more sense to abandon the town entirely rather than attempt to save it. As a result, Congress passed a $42 million bill aimed at helping the remaining families relocate. Surprisingly, however, only about half of the families accepted the assistance.

The rest chose to stay in Centralia, in the homes they had known their entire lives, despite the ongoing health risks. For a time, the government allowed them to remain, likely hoping the remaining residents would eventually reconsider and leave the hazardous area voluntarily.

By 1992, the state of Pennsylvania had lost patience. It declared eminent domain over the entire town of Centralia, condemning all remaining buildings and effectively rendering anyone who stayed behind a squatter. A decade later, the town’s ZIP code was officially revoked, effectively unincorporating Centralia and transferring postal services to nearby Ashland.

Despite the eminent domain declaration, a small group of residents remained and attempted to challenge the state’s decision through legal means, to no success. Still, for more than a decade afterward, Pennsylvania chose not to enforce evictions, allowing the remaining residents to stay in Centralia despite the legal and environmental risks.

That changed in 2009, when then-Governor Ed Rendell decided enough was enough and initiated formal evictions of the remaining residents. But even this effort fell short. Despite Rendell’s actions, five homes remained occupied, and the families living in them once again took legal action against the state, this time alleging they were victims of massive fraud.

According to these residents, the state’s true motive wasn’t public safety or concern about the fire, but rather a desire to access the rare coal beneath the town. They claimed the government was using the fire as a pretext to seize their land. However, these legal challenges were ultimately unsuccessful as well, and in 2012, the courts once again ordered the remaining residents to vacate.

By 2013, the state of Pennsylvania finally acknowledged the futility of its efforts. State and local officials reached an agreement with the remaining families: they would be allowed to stay in their homes and retain ownership for the rest of their lives. However, upon their passing, the properties would revert to government ownership under the previously declared eminent domain.

Here and Now

Today, just five people remain in a town whose underbelly has been burning for over 60 years, despite government intervention, severe health risks, and the complete absence of anything else for miles around. Surrounding this eerily haunting ghost town, visitors will find streets that remain mostly intact, save for the occasional sinkhole or fissure where steam rises ominously from the ground. A few houses still stand, alongside long-forgotten graveyards, an abandoned church, scorched patches of vegetation, and driveways that lead to empty, overgrown lots. With enough clichés to make your skin crawl, it’s no surprise that many believe Centralia inspired the setting of the video game Silent Hill.

Unsurprisingly, the town has become a roadside attraction for curious passersby, drawn either by its eerie pop-culture legacy or the infamy of the underground fire. Though the fire itself remains hidden beneath the surface, the ghost town alone has been enough to lure visitors for decades. One stretch of Route 61, which cuts through Centralia and was closed in the early 1990s due to the subterranean instability, became a particular hotspot.

Tourists flocked to the area, leaving behind layers of spray-painted messages and artwork, earning it the nickname “Graffiti Highway.” Over time, it became an attraction in its own right. But then, in 2020, officials moved to shut it down for good, covering the stretch with dirt mounds to block public access.

Although the fire isn’t visible from the surface, it continues to be closely monitored by officials to this day. More than 2,000 boreholes have been drilled throughout the Centralia region to aid in surveillance, with the state conducting visual inspections on a monthly basis. Experts estimate that the underground fire, which began in a small mining pit, has spread across more than 400 surface acres and has the potential to expand to as many as 3,700 acres.

However, this shouldn’t be imagined as a single, massive blaze blanketing that entire area. Instead, it’s a network of scattered fires burning beneath the surface. Interestingly, surface mining in the region has actually helped slow the fire’s progression; by strip mining, crews remove coal deposits deep underground, effectively limiting the fuel available for the fire to spread.

Despite this, the fire is still advancing, reportedly by about 50 to 75 feet (15 to 23 meters) per year. Officials have confirmed that it has already spread several miles south, beneath the now-abandoned town of Byrnesville, and they believe it has likely extended beyond the coal bed of Buck Mountain into those of neighboring mountains. With no active efforts to extinguish the blaze, experts estimate it could continue burning for at least another century.

Yet while Centralia’s fire is undoubtedly the most infamous mine fire in the United States, it may not even be the largest in Pennsylvania. In fact, it’s just one of roughly 40 active mine fires across the state, some of which are believed to be even older and more expansive than Centralia’s, despite its notoriety. On a global scale, underground mine fires are surprisingly common, with thousands potentially burning simultaneously around the world at any given time.

Unfortunately, this points to a much deeper issue: the consequences of reckless mining practices. When safety and sustainability are sidelined in pursuit of resources, we not only endanger the environment, but we also jeopardize human lives and waste away the very materials we sought to extract in the first place.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the Centralia mine fire?

The Centralia mine fire is an underground mine fire that has been burning beneath the town of Centralia, Pennsylvania, for over 60 years.

How did the Centralia mine fire start?

The fire started in 1962 when the town council decided to burn trash in an abandoned mining pit. The flames spread to nearby carbon-rich refuse and entered an overlooked open mine shaft, igniting the coal-filled underground tunnels.

What type of coal is primarily found in Pennsylvania?

Pennsylvania holds around 95% of all the anthracite coal, or hard coal, found in the United States. Anthracite is superior in nearly every way, burning hotter, slower, and cleaner than other types of coal.

How many active coal mines are there in Pennsylvania as of 2022?

As of 2022, Pennsylvania is home to 108 active coal mines, 80 of which are surface mines and 28 underground.

What was the population of Centralia in the 1960s?

By the 1960s, the population of Centralia had dropped to around 1,500 residents.

What happened to the residents of Centralia after the mine fire started?

Many residents chose to stay initially, but as the fire worsened and sinkholes began to appear, the government offered relocation assistance. By 1992, the state declared eminent domain over the town, condemning all remaining buildings and eventually initiating formal evictions.

How is the Centralia mine fire monitored today?

The fire is closely monitored by officials through more than 2,000 boreholes drilled throughout the Centralia region, with visual inspections conducted monthly.

How fast is the Centralia mine fire spreading?

The fire is advancing by about 50 to 75 feet (15 to 23 meters) per year.

What is the estimated lifespan of the Centralia mine fire?

Experts estimate that the underground fire could continue burning for at least another century.

How many active mine fires are there in Pennsylvania?

There are roughly 40 active mine fires across the state of Pennsylvania.

Sources

• Original Places video: The Neverending Coal Fire of Pennsylvania
• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centralia_mine_fire
• https://www.pa.gov/agencies/dep/programs-and-services/mining/abandoned-mine-reclamation/aml-program-information/centralia-mine-fire-resources.html
• https://www.britannica.com/video/coal-mine-fire-Pennsylvania-Centralia/-207717
• https://pabook.libraries.psu.edu/literary-cultural-heritage-map-pa/feature-articles/inferno-centralia-mine-fire
• https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/fire-in-the-hole-77895126/#:~:text=The%20Centralia%20fire%20probably%20got,times%20to%20put%20it%20out
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/history-of-centralia-a-pennsylvania-ghost-town/
• https://pabook.libraries.psu.edu/literary-cultural-heritage-map-pa/feature-articles/inferno-centralia-mine-fire
• https://www.history.com/articles/mine-fire-burning-more-50-years-ghost-town
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/how-much-coal-has-been-mined-in-pennsylvanias-history/#:~:text=As%20of%202022%2C%20Pennsylvania%20has,39%2C701%20short%20tons%20of%20coal
• https://www.usgs.gov/faqs/what-are-types-coal#:~:text=Anthracite%3A%20The%20highest%20rank%20of,coal%20between%20subbituminous%20and%20anthracite
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/history-of-centralia-a-pennsylvania-ghost-town/
• https://pabook.libraries.psu.edu/literary-cultural-heritage-map-pa/feature-articles/inferno-centralia-mine-fire
• https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/fire-in-the-hole-77895126/#:~:text=The%20Centralia%20fire%20probably%20got,times%20to%20put%20it%20out
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/history-of-centralia-a-pennsylvania-ghost-town/
• https://www.history.com/articles/mine-fire-burning-more-50-years-ghost-town
• https://files.dep.state.pa.us/mining/Abandoned%20Mine%20Reclamation/AbandonedMinePortalFiles/Centralia/CentraliaFrequentlyAskedQuestions.pdf
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/history-of-centralia-a-pennsylvania-ghost-town/
• https://files.dep.state.pa.us/mining/Abandoned%20Mine%20Reclamation/AbandonedMinePortalFiles/Centralia/CentraliaFrequentlyAskedQuestions.pdf
• https://www.abc27.com/digital-originals/history-of-centralia-a-pennsylvania-ghost-town/
• https://pabook.libraries.psu.edu/literary-cultural-heritage-map-pa/feature-articles/inferno-centralia-mine-fire
• https://www.history.com/articles/mine-fire-burning-more-50-years-ghost-town
• https://files.dep.state.pa.us/mining/Abandoned%20Mine%20Reclamation/AbandonedMinePortalFiles/Centralia/CentraliaFrequentlyAskedQuestions.pdf
• Hero image source by Saga1111 / openverse, by-sa.