This article originally provided by The Charleston Gazette

February 26, 2007

Sandy Wells: Innerviews

‘It was 18 miles of horror’

For years, he was a closet artist. He painted in private. He was a state trooper, an ex-Marine. Art wasn’t a manly thing.

And he would do it all again. He’d like to be out there in his cruiser today. Like the Marine Corps, there’s just something about being a trooper.

“I refilled jet fighters in Japan and Korea during the Korean War. I would have stayed in the Marines if I could have gotten into another air wing, but the government decided I needed to go somewhere else, so when my time was up, I was out.

“I was working in a chemical plant when I decided to take a civil service test to be a city policeman here in Nitro. I aced the test and became an officer in Nitro and St. Albans. Then I went to the State Police. This was 1960.

“My first assignment was the Turnpike. It was a two-lane highway and it was dangerous. I covered my share of wrecks. We had one that I remember real well. Two youngsters and two adults burned up. I guess the kids in the Corvair went to sleep. They drifted over in front of a trucker coming down Tunnel Hill. The little car spun around and caught on fire and the trucker went down an embankment and burned up in the truck.

“My second assignment, I got transferred to Logan. Miners are the most honest people I know. If they told you they were going to do something, they would do it. If they told you they were going to come shoot you, you could depend on that, too.

“Somebody would call in and say, ‘I’ve shot Joe.’ And they would tell me where they were. They’d be right there waiting on me when I got there.

“One time, the sergeant sent me to break up a mine strike. The miners had the road blocked, and I was the only one available. There must have been 200 of them out in the road. I told them they couldn’t block a state highway. And they moved out of the road for me, one person. They respected authority down there. There were just good people.

“I transferred to Rainelle for about five years and I loved it. That’s when I started in art. I started with a teacher who was teaching pastels. I didn’t let many people know I was doing it because some of the guys made fun of me. They called me Pierre. It wasn’t a macho thing for a state policeman.

“Next, I got transferred to McDowell County. It was tough down there. That’s when Buffalo Creek happened. They wanted some volunteers to come over and help them.

“Water was running about 4 feet deep right in the middle of the valley. Everything was torn up. The first thing I saw was a young boy’s leg sticking out from under a house. We had to jack the house up to get him out. He was dead, of course.

“It went from bad to worse. We had to dig the bodies out of the debris. A guy from a coal company was running an end loader for me, and he got a big bucket of debris and opened it up, and a little kid came rolling out of it. He said, ‘I quit.’ He said he couldn’t handle it. I had to get someone else to run the equipment for me.

“We found numerous bodies. None had any clothes on. The water just stripped their clothes off. One lady just had on a pair of boots. That’s all the poor lady had on.

“It was 18 miles of horror, really. The roads were gone. The railroad was gone. Railroad cars were turned on their tops and railroad steel was wrapped around trees. I was there three days. I’d had it. It will stick with me forever.

“I got transferred back to Rainelle. The Silver Bridge at Point Pleasant fell down, and they called me there for that. They put us out on the river. They had those cranes with big scoops on them. They’d drop those scoops in the water, and they’d come up with cars and pieces of steel, and every once in a while, a body would be hanging out of the steel and we would have to go get it. You had to put it out of your mind or you couldn’t do the job.

“I was stationed in Greenbrier County when the secretary radioed me about the mining accident at Hominy Falls. The mine was flooded and a bunch of men were trapped. The water was running out of there like Niagara Falls. There were three different openings, and water was just gushing out like if you turned on a big spigot.

“I found a guy who had taken the men in that evening. His brother was in there. He said he ran into the water coming back out and got on the beltline and covered his face and rode the beltline out to the water. He was underwater until he got outside. His brother was one of the lucky ones. I was there about 4 in the morning when they found six people alive. Four died.

“It seems like we stayed on the road. They would send us to these riot areas. We went to Moundsville when the prisoners set the penitentiary on fire. I was in the first group that went into the prison. We stripped the prisoners and put them out in the courtyard without a stitch of clothes on in the cold. And that quieted the riot.

“I was on the governor’s detail for Gov. Rockefeller. I hated that with a passion. Mrs. Rockefeller hated me. I was just a country boy and wasn’t used to her ways.

“When I retired in 1985, I was working the interstate from South Charleston to the Kentucky border. I was a supervisor, but I had to work out there with them. I didn’t relish giving tickets. They had to go really fast before I gave them a ticket, probably 20 miles an hour over the limit.

“I had a woman following me one day. I was running the speed limit. She tailgated me. I speeded up to get away from her, and she speeded up right behind me. I got her up to almost 90, and she was right on my bumper. I pulled off and let her go by, and then I stopped her. I said, ‘What is wrong with you, speeding like that?’ She said, ‘Well, you were speeding, too.’ I told her I was trying to get out of her way. I gave her a citation and it tickled me to death.

“We’ve had cattle cars and circus vehicles wreck. We’ve had to round up cows and camels running along the interstate. My buddy said he was going to rope one of the steers. I told him not to do that. He lassoed one of the steers and that steer took off dragging him. Finally the steer got tired and looked around at him, and he took his fist and hit that steer right between the eyes and about broke his hand. I laughed until I about cried. So we’ve had good times and bad times.

“All along, I was doing the art. I started drawing and doodling at home when I was about 15 or 16. After I was married is when I really got into it. My wife encouraged me. I’m a landscape painter. It always fascinated me, the outdoors.

“I found out they had a class here and I came over about 10 years ago. The original teacher left and about two years later, the new one left. I was already teaching beginner classes, so they asked if I would teach all the classes. I’ve been teaching three classes for five years. I don’t take a cent. I enjoy the people. It’s good therapy for me and good therapy for them.

“I feel good about my life. I’ve pretty much covered it all. I wanted to learn to fly, and I finally did that back in the ‘60s. I was hoping to fly for the State Police, but I don’t guess I had enough horsepower to get in the right clique.

“I even went mountain climbing when I was in the Marine Corps. I climbed to the top of Mount Fuji. That’s 12,395 feet. I thought I was a real macho Marine. A Japanese lady about 90 passed me on that mountain. I was struggling, and she grinned as she went by.

“It was interesting being a trooper. I wish I could have stayed young and healthy enough to stay with it. I really felt like I was doing something good.”

To contact staff writer Sandy Wells, call 348-5173 or e-mail sandyw@wvgazette.com.