Among state police departments [the West Virginia State Police] may, with its long and arduous experience, be regarded as a battle scarred veteran. It helped develop a new era of policing in the United States. Only three surviving departments preceded it. None faced greater obstacles. None have contributed more to the safety and well-being of the citizens whose lives and property it protects or to the strength and development of democracy within a state.--Col. H. Clare Hess, Superintendent, Department of Public Safety (West Virginia State Police) Twelfth Biennial Report (1940-1942)

This is a minor rewrite of my original monograph, "Sixty Years of Service: A History of the West Virginia State Police, 1919-1979" (Copyright, 1979).

I want to thank Sergeant Ric Robinson, Director of Media Relations, West Virginia State Police, for his support in the electronic publication of this study.

Merle T. Cole

This is a history of the origins and development of the West Virginia State Police (WVSP), the fourth oldest state police agency in America, now entering its 60th year of public service.

My interest in the WVSP reached an early peak while I was a political science student at Marshall University. At the time, I could only manage to produce a limited study in the form of a term paper. Time and opportunity being more abundant recently, I have been able to complete a long-felt desire by producing this monograph.

While conducting the research, I was struck by the scarcity of published materials focused on state police in general, and the WVSP in particular. To my knowledge, Colonel Conti's book on the Pennsylvania State Police (PSP) is the only recent (1977) publication of comparable detail.

Most of this study is based on official WVSP reports and other primary sources. I am indebted to several officials who kindly consented to review and comment on the draft: Major Jack R. Buckalew, Chief, Planning, Research and Training, WVSP; Captain (Retired) Charles W. Ray, WVSP; Sally J. Minsker, Assistant Personnel Director, WVSP; and Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Philip M. Conti, PSP. Special appreciation is due to Major Buckalew and Sergeant Ron O. Gregory for their assistance in using the WVSP Archives, and to Captain Ray and Ms. Minsker for answering many "burning questions" which helped materially in finalizing this study..

Although others contributed information, facts and opinions, I am solely responsible for the contents of this study.

Merle T. Cole

PART I

Chapter 1: The Climate of Post-War America

Chapter 2: West Virginia - The Violent Heritage

Chapter 3: Political Maneuvering

Chapter 4: The Creative Act of 1919

Chapter 5: Getting Organized

PART II

Chapter 6: The Mine Wars, 1919-1929

Chapter 7: Depression and Recovery, 1929-1939

Chapter 8: War Service, 1939-1949

Chapter 9: The Drive for Traffic Safety, 1949-1959

Chapter 10: Professional Progress, 1959-1969

Chapter 11: Reorganization and Redirection, 1969-1979

Appendices

Appendix A: Evolution of the State Police Concept

Appendix B: Superintendents of the WVSP

Appendix C: WVSP Organization Structure

Appendix D: WVSP Field Organization

Notes

The Department of Public Safety (DPS)--more familiarly known as the West Virginia State Police (WVSP)--is the fourth oldest state police agency in the United States (see Appendix A). It was established in 1919 by an act of the West Virginia Legislature. Like the state which it serves, the WVSP was born in an era of political unrest and domestic violence.

In early 1919, the political and social climate of the United States was beginning to feel the initial impact of World War I. Many historians have observed the "moral decline" which frequently follows a major war. Perhaps the most unpleasant aspect of such a decline is the propensity to accept violence as a means of achieving goals or resolving problems. Certainly the American tradition of frontier violence did not provide any soothing historical precedents. The impact of World War I was especially powerful because of the unprecedented mobilization of manpower and industrial resources required to successfully prosecute the war. Nothing of comparable scale had been seen in America since the Civil War, then a fast fading memory.

Unrest was in the wind. In the industrial arena, trouble seemed unavoidable as labor sought not only to retain its wartime gains, but to obtain higher wages to offset the anticipated post-war inflation. The compulsion of close labor-management cooperation engendered by the war effort evaporated quickly after the November 1918 Armistice. An October 1919 national labor-management conference called by President Wilson to resolve outstanding disagreements failed completely. A wave of strikes spread across America in 1919--most notable, those involving the steel and coal mining industries.(1)

Another legacy of World War I cast the renewed labor unrest in a particularly menacing mold. Bolshevik victory in Russia and the failure of Allied intervention, combined with public emotions, heightened by wartime propaganda, to produce the "Great Red Scare."(2) This reactionary backlash was rooted in a fear of worldwide Communist revolution, patterned on the Russian model, if radicalism was not swiftly squashed. Apparent evidence of this threat was found in Communist rebellions in Germany and Hungary, the Russo-Polish conflict, and emergence of the Third (Communist) International, or Comintern, all in 1919. At home, the International Workers of the World (IWW) published a radical preamble, and, more frightening still, the American Communist Party was founded.(3)

The wave of labor agitation was conveniently labeled by conservative employers as Communist or at least Communist inspired. Was not the basic purpose of the Comintern, after all, direction of worldwide Communist revolutionary movements? The fear of radicalism played into the hands of Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer, who had presidential aspirations. Over Wilson's objections, Palmer whipped up public hysteria, using the "Red Menace" as a vehicle for making his name a household word. Following Palmer's lead, federal and state governments launched a massive crackdown campaign, including raids, arrests, and deportations which "set a new record in American history for executive transgression of individual constitutional rights."(4) On a single night in January 1920, some 4,000 alleged Communists were arrested in 33 different cities. Eventually, Palmer's own excesses proved his undoing. He had repeatedly warned of a radical plot to overthrow the United States Government, to be launched on May Day 1920. Frantic preparations were made to meet the predicted revolution, but May 1 came and went without the threat materializing. As a result, Palmer was discredited and exercised increasingly less influence over public opinion. But many persons suffered injustice and injury before he was unhorsed.

A British journalist clearly summarized the national hysteria prevalent during this period:

No one who was in the United States, as I chanced to be, in the autumn of 1919, will forget the feverish condition of the public at that time. It was hag-ridden by the spectre of Bolshevism. Property was in an agony of fear, and the horrid name 'Radical' covered the most innocent departure from conventional thought with a suspicion of desperate purposes.(5)

Suspicion, intolerance, racism, anti-Semitism, anti-Catholicism, and xenophobia were rampant in post-war America. The spirit of extremism found numerous manifestations: Supreme Court decisions such as Schenck v US, Abrams v US, and Gitlow v People of New York; spectacular anti-radical trials such as Mooney-Billings and Sacco-Vanzetti; expulsion of five members of the New York State Assembly solely for membership in the (legal) Socialist Party; the labeling of a railway worker strike as a Communist attempt to seize control of the United States; emergence of the Second Ku Klux Klan, which came to dominate politics in Oregon, Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, Indiana, Ohio, and California, and exercised substantial influence in many other states; imposition of restrictive immigration quotas in 1921 and 1924, a direct reversal of previous American policy; and a host of "criminal syndicalism laws, teachers' loyalty oaths, the denial of citizenship to pacifists, and the censorship of history textbooks... actions which reflected the popular belief that it was un-American to question the validity of existing institutions, let alone advocate radical reform."(6)

In short, as Morison points out, "there was... more hate literature, more nasty, sour, and angry groups promoting 'hundred percent Americanism' than at any earlier period of our history, or any later one prior to the 1950's."(7)

A further serious threat to domestic tranquility followed from another, though more idealistic, product of World War I-- ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution, the Prohibition experiment (January 1919).(8) As in our current battle against illicit drugs, Prohibition stimulated a profitable trade in illegal alcohol, and, thereby, also gave birth to the large scale organized criminal activities which plague us to this day. The idealists behind Prohibition had completely overlooked the necessary corollary to make it successful--an effective enforcement machinery. The (federal) Prohibition Bureau established under the Volstead Act funded only 1,520 agent positions in 1920, and only 2,836 by 1930. Prohibition enforcement was supposed to be a shared federal-state responsibility, but most states evidenced no real drive to make enforcement effective.(9) Many states, for example, allocated for this purpose only one-eighth of the amount budgeted for fish and game law enforcement programs. Bluntly stated, Prohibition was too unpopular for strict enforcement whenever the probable political backlash was considered. Prohibition's effects were not, of course, restricted to big cities such as Chicago and New York, although the highest levels of gangster violence and corruption were found there. Of all sources of "bootleg" liquor, illegal distilleries produced the greatest percentage. And Prohibition violators could operate "stills" just as effectively (perhaps more so) in rural areas than in the city.(10) Aside from stimulating domestic dissension and the rise of organized crime, Prohibition--or rather, the failure of Prohibition to prohibit--fostered an attitude of general disrespect for the law. This is perhaps the most unfortunate legacy bequeathed to America by the "dry experiment."

Surveying the history of West Virginia, one quickly becomes aware of the undercurrent of violence. The state was born in a period of fratricidal warfare, but this merely built on a pattern which had existed since the days of West Virginia's earliest settlers. There is a tradition of "personalized" violence. Indian warfare demanded a high level of skill and cunning just to stay alive. And most Civil War actions fought in the state were on the guerrilla scale--short, sharp engagements such as ambushes and sniping.

There appears to be a great potential for violence in any largely rural region.(1) West Virginia's mountainous topography certainly inhibited effective law enforcement. Families lived in isolated "hollows" or on mountaintops. Roads and railroads were very few in number. In this environment, the antiquated sheriff-constable system (inherited from Great Britain) could not maintain order. One manifestation was the Hatfield-McCoy type of prolonged family feud. These factors were wedded to produce a "feudal, mountaineer psychology with a traditional dependence upon direct action."(2)

Industrial development simply exacerbated the level of violence. Thousands of European and Negro workers were attracted to West Virginia by the opening of the coal mines. They were accom- panied by a disproportionate share of criminal elements. Crime flourished--gambling, prostitution, white slavery, narcotics peddling, and (after Prohibition) moonshining, bootlegging, and rumrunning. To handle the flood of cases resulting from the debauchery, the state legislature established special courts, having only criminal jurisdiction, throughout the coal mining counties.(3)

Of greater significance to this study was the shift in violence from personal to industrial. Writing of Mingo County in 1921, journalist Winthrop D. Lane observed:

...an important fact in the industrial conflict now going on there. Many people living in these regions believe in settling disputes by personal warfare. They are used to the arbitrament of force. Human life is held more cheaply than in some more cultivated parts of civilization.... With industry has come a new cause of warfare. The fight over unionism has taken the place of private feuds.(4)

Prolonged industrial warfare was perhaps the most significant factor in the eventual establishment of the WVSP. This alone justifies an indepth review of the history of labor strikes and resultant violence. The labor movement in West Virginia is essentially the story of coal miner unionization.(5) As Anson notes, "the economic history of the state [was] written against the background of coal. In fact... the [West Virginia] labor movement has been colored more than by that one industry than all of the others combined."(6) West Virginia did not emerge as a serious competitor in coal production until about 1890. Agriculture was still the "modal occupation" in 1900, engaging 47 percent of the workforce, as contrasted with only 7 percent in coal mining. But, mining accounted for roughly 40 percent of the state's wage-earning workers. Coal extraction increased from 22 million tons in 1900 to 90 million tons in 1920, up 33 percent and well ahead of the national average increase.(7) And as coal came to dominate the state's economy, so the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA)-- organized in 1890--came to dominate the state's labor movement after 1900.

The UMWA's organizing efforts during the 1890's largely failed due to staunch operator resistance. Although ranking third in coal production by 1900, less than one percent of West Virginia's miners were organized under the union. West Virginia and eastern Pennsylvania constituted the largest nonunion blocks in the coal industry at the turn of the century.(8) Renewal of the organizing campaigns could not be long delayed, however, due to pressure exerted on UMWA leadership by operators in the Central Competitive Field (comprising western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois). These operators had recognized the union in 1897, but found themselves at a disadvantage when West Virginia coal production spurted after 1900. The Central operators threatened to cancel their contracts with the UMWA unless the union could successfully organize West Virginia and thereby, reduce the latter's competitive edge.(9) Union persistence, operator resistance and political power, the general disillusionment of many recent immigrants to the mining camps, and the tradition of weak law enforcement combined to create a highly explosive situation.

Between 1880 and 1900, West Virginia's industries experienced 180 reported strikes, of which 111 (over 60 percent) were in coal mining. Major strikes include the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad strike of 1877, in which the governor personally led state militia in an attempt to end the work stoppage. (He failed; federal troops were finally required to restore orderly operation.) There were coal strikes in 1894 (in which militia were again deployed) and 1897, and a strike of streetcar operators (in Wheeling) in 1899.(10) In the twentieth century, however, the mining industry clearly contributed the majority of significant episodes of labor unrest. The UMWA called a general strike in 1902-1903, and succeeded in organizing virtually the whole central Kanawha field, "a bastion of unionism in West Virginia for many years." But this strike also produced the "Stanaford Mountain Massacre"--a bloody encounter between miners and mine guards. Other results were the loss of scanty union inroads in the southern (smokeless) fields, and increasing operator reliance on armed "private police" to protect their property and suppress union organizing activity. There were comparatively minor strikes in the Northern panhandle fields in 1904 and in the Kanawha district in 1909.(11)

The most violent strike in West Virginia history exploded in the Kanawha fields in 1912.(12) In March of that year, the UMWA-operator contract expired, and the operators refused to renegotiate. The union called a strike on Paint Creek in April, which rapidly spread to neighboring Cabin Creek mines. Operators retaliated by firing strikers, evicting them from company-owned houses, importing outside workers ("transports" or "scabs") to take strikers' jobs, and bringing in Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency personnel.(13) A pattern of escalating violence culminated in the "Mucklow Massacre" of July 1912, in which twelve miners and 4 guards were killed. On the 26th, the Kanawha County sheriff called on the governor to send troops to preserve law and order along the creeks. Eventually, almost the entire West Virginia National Guard was massed along Paint Creek. As order was restored, all but four companies were discharged in August 1912. Hardly had the troops dispersed when a deputy sheriff was killed at Ronda, and rumors circulated that hundreds of miners from the north shore of the Kanawha River were planning to cross over and join their comrades along the creeks. (This, in fact, happened.) Governor William E. Glasscock faced a tough decision:

I went up [to Cabin Creek] and... it became very apparent to me that a state of war existed and that the most drastic methods would be necessary in order to quell the trouble. Martial law had never been declared in West Virginia and I hesitated long before deciding to resort to this method of handling the situation, but... I decided to declare martial law and issued such a proclamation on the 2nd day of September, 1912.(14)

Under orders of Adjutant General Charles D. Elliot, the first contingent of Guardsmen arrived at Cabin Creek on 2 September. The proclamation initially covered a zone extending between the creeks south to the Raleigh County line. It remained in force until 14 October. Violence flared again, and a second period of martial law ensued between 15 November and 10 January 1913.(15) Newly-inaugurated Governor Henry D. Hatfield imposed yet a third reign of martial law from 10 February through 12 June 1913. Through the subsequent proclamations, the martial law zone had gradually extended until it encompassed nearly 145 square miles and parts of four counties (Kanawha, Raleigh, Fayette, and Boone). At the height, more than 1,500 Guardsmen were on duty in the zone, and some units remained on duty for a full year after the lifting of the third martial law decree.(16)

The continued violence and martial law proclamations attracted considerable national attention to West Virginia, and prompted a U.S. Senate investigation of the strike situation. Doubtless the most controversial and legally questionable aspect of the martial law administration was the trial, conviction and sentencing to the state penitentiary of hundreds of civilians by a military tribunal situated at Pratt. The validity of this tribunal's actions were challenged, and upheld in two key cases, Nance and Mays v Brown, 71 W. Va. 519 (1912) and Ex parte Jones, 71 W. Va. 567 (1913). Glasscock remarked, on hearing of the State Supreme Court's support of executive prerogatives: "In my judgment, the decision of the court in these cases means more for real constitutional government than any other ever before rendered in this state."(17)

The strike was finally ended through a settlement personally imposed by Governor Hatfield . He made it clear to the UMWA leaders that unless the terms were accepted, "the idle [strikers] and troublemakers" would be deported from the strike zone. Thus, the state's experience with martial law conditions left considerable discomfort among almost all participants. It also set a precedent for unpopular employment of National Guard units for strike breaking purposes. Opposition to centralized state authority was later to color the political struggle for establishment of a state constabulary force.

From 1914 to 1919, there were fewer strikes, and these less dramatic, as coal production increased to meet the demands of World War I. Wages and employment also rose steadily. Most coal operators acceded to the federal government's recognition of the right of employees to organize for collective bargaining. This, and a spirit of patriotism, swelled the UMWA's membership lists until, by the end of the war, virtually all of the West Virginia fields had been organized. The one glaring exception was the smokeless fields, particularly Logan, Mingo, McDowell, Mercer and Wyoming counties. Operator intransigence in this region was soon to provoke violence "on a scale not witnessed in West Virginia since the Civil War."(l8)

The WVSP was not established without a fight. The history of the conflict is instructive not only as an insight to the times, but also as revealing the propaganda techniques employed to sway public opinion. Quenzel's study is the best summary published to date, and the discussion which follows is based largely on his work.(1)

The Advocates

Governor John J. Cornwell was the single most influential person in assuring the adoption of the state police concept in West Virginia.(2) He had personally studied the effectiveness of the Pennsylvania and New York state police. Ignoring warnings from his political advisors of dire electoral consequences, he advocated formation of a police agency before both business and labor groups. He even sent a letter "to all labor unions in the State... [warning] them against indiscriminate opposition to any form of 'military or police;' solicited their aid in keeping West Virginia free from I.W.W.'s and Bolsheviki; and invited them to send representatives to the Legislature to help formulate proper legislation."(3)

Cornwell adamantly opposed reestablishment of the West Virginia National Guard (WVNG) as an alternative to creating a state constabulary. Except for nine staff officers, the WVNG had, along with the Guard of other states, been drafted into federal service on 7 August 1917. Under Section 111 of the National Defense Act of 1916, Guardsmen thus drafted did not revert to their state militia status on demobilization, they simply became civilians again. Thus, only rump Guard forces existed in the states after 1917, and a concerted effort to reestablish the National Guard was not undertaken by any state until Spring 1920. (Section 111 was amended to eliminate the troublesome provision via the National Defense Act of 1920. Army officials especially favored the amendment since federal soldiers had to perform many duties normally devolving to the states. Between 1 July 1918 and 1 September 1920, federal troops were used to quell 20 domestic disorders.) Cornwell recalled the rather poor condition of many Guardsmen called for war service, and the contrasting high quality of National Army draftees. He questioned whether the federal government would ever need the Guard in the future, and concluded that "the National Guard Law had as well be wiped from our Statutes." He further criticized the Militia Statute inherited from Virginia was "antiquated, impractical and a useless thing under modern conditions. To undertake to utilize it to enroll and mobilize a force of men for the preservation of peace and order... would be a vain undertaking, one that would cost unprecedented sums of money for the service that could be obtained."

In contrast to his pessimism over the militia, Cornwell highly praised the performance of "special police deputies." In an interesting early example of centralized state control of law enforcement, these officers had been recruited pursuant to the Special Police Deputy Sheriff Law enacted as an emergency security measure by extraordinary session of the Legislature, and signed by the governor on 26 May 1917. The act created a department of Special Deputy Police, superintended by Major Thomas B. Davis (also appointed Acting Adjutant General in March 1918). A force of 10-100 special deputies was to be organized in each county, with appointments to expire on the signing of the treaty of peace with the Central Powers. There had been little actual use made of the deputies, but their cost was minimal. Cornwell believed that "from the standpoint of economy and efficiency that law might be reenacted, with certain important modifications, and serve us well during peace times." The changes recommended were in selection (officers to be appointed from all over the state by circuit judges, rather than nominated by a sheriff and appointed by county court) and organization (two classes: a small force of regulars and a larger reserve pool for emergencies).(4)

Cornwell did not press for adoption of a specific organi- zational concept, and clearly emphasized that safeguards would be required to prevent misuse of the force. When the bill failed to pass in regular session, the governor called an extraordinary session and put the police bill as a top priority on that session's agenda. He held private conferences with influential legislators in an effort to secure their votes, and encouraged lobbyists to submit letters and telegrams of support. Finally, he accepted an invitation to address the special session just before the final vote on the bill was taken.(5)

Certain of the arguments advanced by proponents clearly reflected the tone of post-war American fears and hopes.(6) Governor Cornwell emphasized the relative impotence of the executive in enforcing state laws when called upon by either labor or management. He pointed to the potential threat caused by the

...8,000 alien workmen in the state who were subjects of countries still technically at war with the United States. [He warned] that West Virginia was destined to become a dumping ground for bolsheviks and anarchists unless the police bill passed.

One paper bluntly described the contest as a struggle between the powers of right, justice and human liberty and the elements who were 'having their hour of joyous murder, rape, robbery and arson in Russia.'(7)

As if to validate these fears, a miners' local at Ramage adopted a resolution threatening armed resistance if the bill was passed. Cornwell struck a more positive note with the unions by pointing out that existence of a state police force could encourage legislation prohibiting both employment of private mine guards, and the more egregious practice of coal operators associations paying the salaries of deputy sheriffs (public officials). The governor had also submitted proposals for substantial upgrading of the state highway system, and spoke of the resultant need for more effective policing of the roads--a job for which sheriffs' departments were inadequate, and for which the militia would be improperly suited and too expensive. Finally, advocates of the state police bill categorized all opponents as being either lawless elements, politically catering to those elements, morally weak, or harboring political grudges against the governor, and, therefore, not acting in the best interests of the citizenry.(8)

The Opponents

Arguments both rational and emotional were advanced by opponents of the police bill as well. The most ardent opponents, not surprisingly, were leaders of organized labor.(9) Their basic argument was that while all citizens would have to carry the tax burden represented by a state police agency, only the interests of wealthy capitalists would be served, as the force would be used mainly for strike breaking and worker intimidation. In response to this, one legislator actually proposed an amendment whereby expenses of the force would be borne by the coal operators. (It is worth noting again that Cornwell had specifically warned the Legislature of the need to prevent private interests from gaining control.) One labor paper inveighed against the proposed force as comprising "...a permanent soldiery, trained and drilled to blind mechanical response to autocratic orders, recruited from the cossack-type of humanity, tempted by a gaudy uniform, plenty to eat, and no mental or physical exertion."(10) A different light was shed on labor opposition in a candid statement to a reporter by "Mother" Jones. Asked why she so strenuously opposed a state police force, she replied: "Since it was established in Pennsylvania, we have not won a single strike."(11)

One opposing editor sought to play on the virulent anti-Germanism carried over from the war by charging that the state police bill would "'sound a German note.' He held that the superman was a myth and that changing a man's title, putting him astride a horse, bedecking him in a uniform and arming him with a pistol failed to transform his nature."(12) Other opponents warned that establishing a state police would have the reverse impact of that advanced by the governor--that it would act as a magnet to draw Bolsheviks and anarchists into the state's already tense industrial situation. Any wartime understandings between unions and operators would be hopelessly undermined. Was there really such a pressing need anyway, they asked? There were already 1,200-1,500 peace officers in the state; a sheriff could exercise the posse comitatus authority if he needed assistance; federal troops based in Ohio and Virginia could be called in if truly unmanageable violence erupted; during the war, when neither state police nor the militia were available to the governor, there had been no serious incidents; only three other states had seen fit to establish such forces; and, it was unlikely that a rural state was likely to attract "big time" criminal elements. Other opponents appealed to state pride to resist adopting an agency pioneered by Pennsylvania, and which seemed "offensive to state ideals." Economically, the projected $225,000 annual state police budget appeared excessive to rural people, and seemed to violate Cornwell's pre-election economy pledges. The farmers tended to believe in the preference of community control as in lieu of order imposed from without. Finally, the potential political patronage represented by the governor's authority to appoint state policemen was seen as a threat to the opposing political party. Rural dwellers took a different view--offensive sheriffs or constables could be removed at election time, but no such threat could be employed against a state policeman.(13)

As the special session of the legislature continued its hearings and debates over the police bill, opponents stepped up their campaign to defeat the proposal.

Labor held meetings in various cities denouncing the measure, adopted countless resolutions, threatened to strike, presented to the joint legislative committee sweeping testimony concerning the 'misdeeds of Pennsylvania state police,' filed with the same committee protest petitions bearing between 80,000 and 100,000 names, staged parades around the capitol, and listened enthusiastically to speeches by Mother Jones and other well known labor leaders. State officials opposing the bill gave interviews and speeches explaining their stand.(14)

Passage of the Bill

At long last, after "one of the hottest and most bitterly contested legislative fights in the annals of West Virginia history," the police bill was taken from the table and passed by the house of delegates, where the major opposition operated, on 24 March 1919. The measure passed the Senate, by a vote of 15 to 13, 5 days later. Governor Cornwell signed the act into law on 31 March 1919.(15) The proponents of centralized law enforcement had won, but by a narrow margin. Writing in 1957, Kyle McCormick reflected on the short-sightedness of the opposition.

The strange part of the West Virginia fight over the state police is that no one seemed to envision that the time had come when motor transportation would render the deputy sheriff and constable system of law enforcement obsolete. That the time had come when scientific and laboratory methods of police work would be essential for any kind of effective protection--that the time had come when an officer must be highly trained for police work, and not be just some country bumpkin who controlled certain political precincts.(16)

The WVSP creative act became effective on 29 June 1919. A review of the major provisions of the act will highlight the political concerns written into the law.(1) It will also provide a basis for understanding the rationale and impact of later modifications of the act after its absorption into the West Virginia Code.

To facilitate review, the provisions embodied in the 29 sections of the act may be broken into six broad categories. Minor provisions have been omitted.

Department Management and Structure

The position of superintendent was created to serve as administrative and executive head of the department. He is appointed by the governor, with the consent of the senate, for a four-year term. The superintendent was authorized a deputy, a chief clerk, and two clerks. For field operations, two companies (or platoons) were authorized, each to comprise one captain (commander), lieutenant (executive officer), and first sergeant; five sergeants; eight corporals; and a variable number of privates (troopers) within the range of 30-55 per company. Thus, the department's initial uniformed ceiling strength was 134, plus two civilians.(2) The governor was authorized to disband any company whenever he deemed it advisable. (Sections 1, 3, 5-6.)

Personnel Management

All members were to be appointed by the superintendent for a term of two years. Preference in recruitment was to be given to honorably discharged veterans. Religious or political affiliation was not to be considered. Specified qualifications: male, 25-45 age range; able to ride horseback; "of sound constitution" and "good moral character;" and capable of passing mental and physical examinations as prescribed the superintendent.(3) Members could be reappointed after their initial two-year term if the superintendent was satisfied with their service. However, reappointment of officers previously suspended, removed or discharged required approval by the governor. The superintendent's approval was required before a member resigned. The superintendent could discipline a member for refusal to obey orders, neglect of duty, drunkenness, immorality, inefficiency, abuse of authority, "interference with the lawful right of any person," or unauthorized political activity. The governor, with approval of the state senate, was to establish a bipartisan two-man board of commissioners with two-year terms. Commissioners could not hold any elective or appointive public office during their tenure. They were to review appeals from the superintendent's charges against members, conduct hearings to determine validity of charges, suspend members until formal trial on the basis of evidence, and conduct trials to determine whether discharge was warranted. In case of tie votes, the governor sat as third member and presiding officer of the trial board.(4) (Sections 7, 9, 22-24)

Administration

The board of public works was to provide suitable office space at the state capitol for department headquarters. The superintendent was empowered to promulgate regulations for the government, discipline and control of the department. Members were permitted to carry arms without a license. The superintendent was to provide weapons, uniforms, and "horses and other means of conveyance" for use by the officers. He was also to establish local headquarters "at such places in West Virginia which are in his judgement suitable and proper to render the department... most efficient...." This included providing necessary housing, quarters, equipment and supplies. (Sections 2, 11-12)

Powers and Authority

The department's jurisdiction "shall extend anywhere in the State of West Virginia." Six powers were specified:

1. To arrest and detain persons on warrant (without warrant when officer was a witness to the act).

2. To serve criminal (but not civil) process at court direction.

3. To cooperate with local authorities in detecting crime and apprehending criminals and suspects.

4. To make personal complaint, obtain and execute warrants, and bring the offender into court, and execute summonses (Sections 13-14).

5. To serve as forest patrolmen, game and fish wardens, and deputy prohibition officers (at the call of the commissioner of prohibition), exercising "all of the powers conferred by law upon a sheriff, constable or any other peace officer" (except serving civil process or exercising other powers of a civil nature)(5),and

6. "...when called by [a] sheriff... or when the governor by proclamation so directs, shall have full power and authority... to direct and command absolutely the assistance of any sheriff, deputy sheriff, constable, chief of police, policeman, town marshal, game and fish warden, deputy prohibition officer and any and every peace officer of the State or of any able-bodied citizen of the United States to assist and aid in accomplishing the purposes expressed in this act." Any person called upon became "for all purposes, a member of the department of public safety."(6)

Restrictions

1. Civil. Members prohibited from interfering "with the rights or property of any person except for the prevention of crime."(7) (Section 15)

2. Political. Members barred from holding any elective or appointive public office while a member of the department, and for 1 year thereafter. No member to be politically active except to cast his ballot in election; may not act as an election official; and may not be detailed to the vicinity of a convention or voting precinct on the election or convention day, nor remain in the voting precinct after casting his ballot. Penalty for violation was dismissal from the force. (Section 15)

3. Labor Disputes. Officers not to be quartered on property of any person or corporation employing more than 25 workers unless no other reasonable quarters are available. Members prohibited from aiding or assisting either party to a labor dispute, "but shall in such cases see that the statutes and laws of the State... are enforced in a legal way and manner."(8) It will be a felony for members to hire themselves out to guard private property, or accept a bribe to perform or not perform their official duties. Similarly, any person or firm offering a bribe will be guilty of a felony. (Sections 15, 20-21)

Miscellaneous

1. Superintendent authorized to collect and distribute statistics and work with education agencies "to secure the nationalization and Americanization of all foreign-born inhabitants" and to "secure a harmonious feeling and understanding between the employers of labor and their employees..." by calling on educational or other institutions "for public speakers and is authorized to hold public meetings... [when] such meetings will be of advantage to carry out the spirit of this law."(9) (Section 29)

2. Railroad officials required to provide free transportation to officers (and their prisoners) to any point in the state, subject to reimbursement on approval of claim by the superintendent. (Section 28)

3. All jailers required to receive and detain any prisoner arrested by a state police officer. (Section 17)

4. Persons falsely representing themselves as members of the department guilty of a misdemeanor. (Section 19)

5. Interference with an officer on duty, or refusal to provide information "relating to any offense or crime committed, or about to be committed, or of any riot, uprising or disturbance existing or threatened," are misdemeanors (except information which would be self-incriminating or incriminating to a spouse). (Section 18)

Governor Cornwell appointed the first superintendent of the Department of Public Safety on 29 June 1919.(2) Jackson Arnold, grand nephew of Confederate General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, was the former executive officer of the 1st West Virginia Infantry Regiment. In an article in the 1922 West Virginia Legislative Handbook and Manual and Official Register, Colonel Arnold summarized his understanding of the mandate accorded him by passage of the state police bill.

It appears that the plain intention of the people of West Virginia... was, first, to relieve the military arm of the state of the burden of looking after public calamaties and disorders, except of the most severe kind; secondly, to supplement the work of the local peace officers; and thirdly, to abolish the system of private employment of men endowed with the powers of peace officers.... It is believed that the department is filling a long felt need in the State and that much good and no harm has been accomplished by it, and it is making West Virginia a safer place in which to live and work and in which to invest in the various industries.(3)

As he set about implementing this mandate, Arnold faced the daunting challenge of recruiting and retaining an adequate number of high quality officers. Shortly after selecting Arnold to head this vital new state agency, Governor Cornwell took time to carefully set forth his expectations as to the quality of men to be sought. His 3 July 1919 letter to the superintendent emphasized that troopers' conduct must be such as to preserve the state's good name. Therefore, only men of good character, tact, and intelligence, capable of maintaining a careful neutrality in all official dealings, were to be favorably considered in the selection process. The "fundamentals" of WVSP operation must be politeness and service.(4)

These considerations necessitated a very careful screening of the thousands of applicants. The first trooper--Sam Taylor--was enlisted on 24 July, but overall strength was practically nil from July through September 1919. By the end of November, 121 had finally been selected and assembled for duty.(5) But recruiting men was only part of the problem. To insure the desired quality, all appointees served a four-month probationary period, which eased the task of discharging "types undesirable to the public and men derogative to the best interest of the department." The impact of discharges was staggering: during fiscal year 1922, 141 men were discharged, topped only by the 180 terminated during the 1923-1924 period. Superintendent Robert E. O'Connor noted in 1926 that although 94 men were discharged, the 42 percent turnover rate was the lowest since the department's creation. In 1928, O'Connor reported that the average enlisted strength during the biennium was 157--only 11 (7 percent) of whom were members of the group originally recruited in November 1919. Summarizing the department's history fourteen years later, Col. H. Clare Hess noted that over 300 men entered and left the West Virginia State Police during 1919-1921. Such turnover caused end-fiscal year personnel strengths to fluctuate wildly: 1921, 113; 1922, 206; 1924,146; 1925, 210; and 1926, 180.

In view of this instability, it was inevitable that men of less than desired qualities would manage to pass the screening process. The impact of undisciplined personnel was particularly evident in operations in strike zones. During his visit to West Virginia, A. F. Hinrichs noted the virulent anti-unionism of many troopers stationed in Mingo County:

Even the regular State Police seem to have lost sight of the nature of the controversy. They were charged with the duty of maintaining law and order, but they regarded the miners as the enemy and drew no nice distinctions. The young clerk of the force told me: 'The big advantage of this martial law is that if there's an agitator around you can just stick him in jail and keep him there.'(6)

This attitude was at least partially traceable to the selection process. Barb reports that "of a maximum of one hundred men in [Capt. James R. Brockus'] command thirty-five had to be discharged because of bad conduct within a period of ten months."(7)

Colonel Arnold was also plagued by problems in uniforming and equipping his men. Each new trooper was initially required to bring his World War I uniform when he reported for enlistment. Part of the delay was attributable to a prolonged garment workers strike, and part to the "eternal red tape encountered in procuring equipment from the surplus property division of the War Department."

The fledgling force could provide very little in the way of formal training. In 1920, Arnold attempted to acquire use of the state militia's target range at Caddell, Preston County, for training his men. But formal training was not to become a reality until 1927, when a one-week course was presented at Haywood Junction. During 1928, the militia's Camp Conley, near Point Pleasant, was turned over to the state police. A two-month recruit training course was conducted under the direction of veteran officers who had attended other state's schools. This intensive training encompassed discipline, classification and causes of crime, criminal investigation, the law of arrests, court appearances, firearms and first aid (taught by an American Red Cross instructor). The recruits received no pay, just food, clothing and lodging. Superintendent O'Connor pointed proudly to the economical manner in which the training was conducted: the average cost was only $1.50 per recruit per day. He was also proud that all recruits had at least a high school education, a standard which some rural law enforcement agencies have not reached to this day. One payoff from the higher admission standards was, of course, a decrease in the frequency of incidents brought about by poor judgment.

Colonel Arnold had other plans for the Caddell facility. He wanted to pasture horses there and grow forage for them at the same site. It may seem strange that the WVSP was basically a mounted police force in an era of rapid "automobilization." As Arnold noted in his 1922 report:

Due to the topographical condition of the state there have been many isolated spots where we had not been able to penetrate. The placing of horses at stations near such regions have brought our patrols in contact with these communities and engendered a wholesome respect for the law and its officers. The policing of rural communities has become a simple problem since the acquisition of these horses.

A better perspective can be gained from the official history published by the state department of highways:

In 1910, there were only three or four hundred miles of road which could be termed surfaced highways.... There were no paved roads in West Virginia, except for two and three mile sections leading out of Parkersburg, Wheeling, Clarksburg and Huntington.(8)

The first permanent macadam and concrete roads were not constructed until 1911, and even then each was only about a mile and a half long. A state roads bureau report of 1914 alleged that West Virginia had "the worst roads in the United States." With such terrible road systems, the state could not very well participate in the post-war automobile craze.(9) So, horses and legs provided the state police with most of its mobility in these early days. Each company headquarters was allocated a touring car, to be used for transporting bulky supplies and for quick dispatch of troopers where suitable roads did exist. But during this same period (1920-1921), 36 prize horses were also added to the department's inventory. Dodson observed that:

The topography of the State was... such that horses were necessary for... police work.... Their usefulness was decreasing with the gradual betterment of roads, but they must be kept in trim for emergencies.... A day's duties, outlined for a trooper in [the late 1920's], was to rise at dawn, curry, feed, and care for his horse, climb on a motorcycle, patrol until dark, return to headquarters, report, feed his horse, bed it down for the night, eat, report for any additional duties. This routine was interrupted only for special assignments.(10)

Taking proper care of the horse usually reaped great rewards. One reporter noted that a trooper's mount "often saved his life, for example when the horse was trained to lie prone as a shield for a rifle-firing trooper."(11)

Because of continued labor opposition to the state police, superintendents were careful to emphasize its cost effectiveness in each of their early reports to the governor. Departmental self-sufficiency was also reinforced by not asking for increased annual appropriations, and by returning money to the state treasury, as happened each year until 1928. After 1928, the superintendents had to fight to hold on to existing appropriations. Budgetary reductions for 1928-1929 forced a cutback from 180 to 157 men. O'Connor pointed out that the per capita cost of each trooper was only $2,750, and that the increasing burden of highway patrol necessitated a budget of at least $500,000 for 1929-1930. So tight were funds that the governor gave money from his personal emergency fund to purchase badly needed new uniforms, automobiles and other equipment for the department in 1929. Funding at the $600,000 per annum level was requested for 1931-1932, but this proved to be a pipe dream as the Depression ground on.

The department's field structure consisted of Company A, initially headquartered at Haywood Junction (just north of Clarksburg), Harrison County, and Company B at Williamson, Mingo County. The companies eventually controlled a total of 31 substations. Department headquarters was located in the state's capital city, Charleston.

By December 1920, Colonel Arnold had a full year's experi- ence as head of an operational state constabulary. In submitting the first biennial report to the governor, he proposed several changes which would require legislative approval. First, he requested that the organization's name be changed to "Department of State Police." This was necessary, he said, because of confusion evident in misrouting of mail to other state departments and to the City of Charleston. Second, Arnold proposed that a second deputy or other position be authorized to provide professional legal counsel to the department. He also wanted both WVSP companies to be augmented by assignment of two additional sergeants--a cook and a farrier-blacksmith. Finally, he urged the necessity for an across-the-board pay raise for all department employees.

At this time, there had been considerable discussion over the need to expand the WVSP to more effectively confront labor unrest. Colonel Arnold made his position on this issue quite clear. While he favored more manpower, he formally recommended that "the organization, if increased, be not by the creation of additional companies, but by increasing the present two companies to an authorized strength of one hundred fifty men each, to include one additional lieutenant, three additional sergeants, and four additional corporals." If implemented, Arnold's plan would have raised the department's strength to 302 officers and two civilians.

Arnold pointed out that "the department... has,... owing to the large number of men necessarily assembled at [those points where strikes and riots had occurred], been greatly hindered and impeded in its desire to afford protection to residents and property owners in rural and outlying districts."(12) Organized labor, of course, had launched violent attacks on the WVSP in large part due to these very concentrations of police power. Bruce Smith, in his landmark study, The State Police (1925), used maps to compare the deployment of state troopers in both West Virginia and Pennsylvania, revealing a trend atypical of other state police forces of the time:

The maps appearing herewith are intended graphically to portray the correlation between the location of state police stations and certain economic and social factors. The Pennsylvania maps show beyond any question not only that the troop reserves are in fact concentrated in the coal and iron districts of the state, but that they, together with the substations, also bear an intimate relation to the density of rural population, of the foreign-born, and of negroes. They show a high degree of correlation between the location of troop stations and the presence of those factors which are of special concern to the police. The West Virginia maps, on the other hand. show a marked concentration in the coal fields with certain large and relatively populous areas lying outside of the normal scope and sphere of the force. It should nevertheless be recognized that the situation in West Virginia is altogether unique and that the small numbers of the force, which totals less than one hundred and fifty at the present time, probably requires this disposition if it is to prove effective in dealing with an exceedingly difficult situation.(13)

In view of labor's influence in the state legislature, overwhelming sympathy for Arnold's recommendations could not be expected. But, on 15 April 1921, the legislators passed an amendment to the creative act, thereby authorizing the first major WVSP reorganization. Two additional companies were formed, and their maximum strength set at one captain, one lieutenant, one first sergeant, five sergeants, eight corporals; and not less than 30 nor more than 55 privates. Two additional civilian positions (clerks) were also authorized for departmental headquarters, and the requested salary raise was approved.

Colonel Arnold's force had a new ceiling of 286 officers, a 47 percent increase. The superintendent may have lost on the field structure issue but, in view of continued strong labor opposition, this vote of confidence in the new department and its commander was truly remarkable.(14) Companies C (Beckley) and D (Clothier) were duly activated on 14 July 1921, the effective date of the amendment.(15) The four-company field force structure thus erected would continue in existence until July 1933, at the height of the Great Depression.

Before examining the WVSP's initial operations, it will be helpful to study one of the major personnel management problems faced by the department. Arnold had complained in his 1922 report about the absence of death, disability and retirement programs. Two years later he could report no progress, although arrest fees and reward monies were being held in a pool awaiting state legislative action. Arnold pointed out that while the current budget contained funds for three members disabled in the line of duty, the appropriation would expire on 30 June 1925. He underscored the concern for permanent benefits by stating that "while the men undoubtedly deserve a higher rate of pay, they realize the state's needs in other directions and their only desire at this time is to urge the need of a pension fund." The 1925 legislature responded by authorizing investment of the pooled monies in various bonds, with the interest to serve as a makeshift pension fund. However, interest accumulation was too slow to keep pace with the expenses faced by disabled troopers and dependents. Superintendent O'Connor recommended in 1926 that either the troopers be brought under the workmen's compensation program, or that group insurance be provided for them. He also recommended that members be prohibited from accepting arrest fees because (1) they received regular salaries and allowances (quarters, rations, and clothing), and (2) it seemed reprehensible for salaried officers to be "rewarded" for doing their jobs. But the state legislature did not act on O'Connor's requests, and a comprehensive death-disability and retirement fund was not realized until 1935.

The work of organizing a force to properly perform the duties outlined [in the creative act] is not the work of a day.... In view of the fact that all general powers of peace officers to be exercised by the department are already covered by local officers to the same extent they have always been covered, the first efforts of the department have been devoted to the preparation for any sudden call which would require the force to cover a mob or riot summons, or a call resulting from some sudden calamity.(2)

Colonel Arnold wrote these words in 1922. As events developed, the State Police found plenty of calls to answer. A series of labor flareups commenced in the late summer of 1919 which culminated two years later in the infamous "March on Logan."

If we are to believe one writer, the department came peril- ously close to disaster because of its involvement in the industrial turbulence. Kyle McCormick was a reporter with a Charleston newspaper in 1919. Like many other reporters, he was trying to learn the identity of the new State Police appointees, which Colonel Arnold had steadfastly and mysteriously refused to publicize. McCormick simply went to the state auditor's office, checked the department payroll list, and published the names-with spectacular results!

The next day, I met Colonel Arnold on Hale Street and we had quite an argument and I thought he would tan my hide. It seems that all the newly appointed members of the police force were working under cover in Southern West Virginia getting a line on 'radicalism' that might be the activities of some Communists that had invaded the state or about mine union activities. Anyhow, the story just about broke up the state police. Here is a man working in a mine under cover, and all at once he is exposed. Had I known of the conditions I most certainly would not have written the story.(3)

The First Miner's March

In July-August 1919, prounion miners in Logan and Mingo counties called for UMWA organization. This prompted a lockout by operators in those counties as well as McDowell and Mercer. The UMWA retaliated by calling a statewide general strike in September.

Rumors abounded that deputy sheriffs and mine guards in Logan County were brutalizing the families of striking miners.(4) A spontaneous mobilization of prounion men from the Kanawha field began, and by 4 September more than 6,000 miners, many armed, had concentrated on Lens Creek, near Marmet. Governor Cornwell addressed this assembly on the evening of the 4th in an attempt to persuade them to return peacefully to their homes. But about 1,500-1,900 men chose to ignore the plea and set out to "invade" Logan (the county and county seat have the same name) the next morning. This group's supposed objective was to "get" Don Chafin and to force the unionization of the mines. It had reached Danville by the night of the 5th. Cornwell warned union leaders that he would call for federal troops if the illegal march crossed the Coal River, boundary between Logan and Boone counties. This threat and much personal pleading on the part of the UMWA chiefs had the desired effect. The governor provided special trains to transport the marchers from Coal River to Charleston. He also promised to investigate conditions in Logan County.(5)

Thus, the first "Miner's March" ended peaceably enough. But tensions remained at a high pitch. Journalist Winthrop D. Lane summarized the hostility existing at the beginning of the 1920's.

The conflict in West Virginia is neither temporary nor sporadic. It is deep-seated and continuous struggle.... In West Virginia the [labor-management] conflict is seen in all its brutal nakedness, with both sides prepared for combat to the bitter end and relentless in pursuit of its goals.... West Virginia is today a state of civil war.(6)

In a further incident of unrest, an 850-man provisional regiment of the U.S. First Division was dispatched to West Virginia in late October 1919. Their mission was to enforce a federal court injunction against a strike called by the UMWA. Colonel W. H. Morrell's soldiers were stationed at Charleston, Beckley and Clothier, in quarters arranged by the Acting Adjutant General, Maj. Thomas B. Davis (WVNG). Morrell's intelligence unit allegedly worked up a list of dangerous agitators which was subsequently turned over to the State Police. The troops were withdrawn on 18 November.(7)

The determination on the part of both sides in the unionization struggle is explained by the critical role which the state played in the coal industry, and in the ultimate fate of the UMWA.

In 1920, with 50% of her coal mines working under union contracts and the other half working largely in the southern non-union areas, West Virginia presented the picture of a house divided against herself. For the next thirteen years the United Mine Workers were to fight a bitter losing fight....

The challenge was clear cut. The increasing competition offered by the Logan and other non-union operators to the organized fields was an unpleasant fact, indeed, a threat to union operators and miners.... Unless the miners could bring these nonunion areas under wage agreements, their very existence as an organization was jeopardized.... [Hence] the union was determined... to bring all of the southern fields into the union fold. There was much truth in the fighting phrase 'If Logan falls, West Virginia is organized.'(8)

"Bloody Mingo"

In May 1920, Mingo County miners called for UMWA organizers in protest over long-standing grievances concerning the weighing of coal, employment of mine guards, and operator refusal to grant wage increases.(9) Baldwin-Felts agents arrived shortly thereafter to evict prounion miners from company-owned houses. On 19 May, a party led by Albert C. Felts entered the town of Matewan following some evictions in a nearby mining camp. According to some sources, Felts allegedly attempted to arrest Police Chief Sid Hatfield, who had been interfering with the evictions. Hatfield, in turn, was allegedly trying to arrest Felts on the order of the mayor. A dispute developed in which several Matewan residents became involved. Gunfire erupted, leaving the mayor, Felts, six other agents, and two citizens dead. Other sources say that Hatfield had plotted an ambush for the agents, most of whom were unarmed when the shooting started. Whatever the truth, Hatfield quickly became a hero to the miners, and the incident went down in history as the "Matewan Massacre."(10)

In July 1920, the UMWA called a strike for union recognition and higher wages. This strike was to continue, at varied levels of violence, until the union conceded defeat in October 1922.(11) Fighting broke out between mine guards and strikers during July and August, leaving numerous dead and wounded. Governor Cornwell decided that federal intervention was necessary to restore order. At this time there were only 30 State Police officers on duty in Mingo. Colonel Samuel Burkhardt arrived in August 1920 with 469 soldiers from Camp Sherman, Chillocothe, Ohio. These troops were dispersed among the larger mines in the county, but martial law was not declared.(12)

The UMWA alleged that the military favored operator interests, and on 24 September union leaders threatened to call a statewide strike if the federal troops were not promptly withdrawn. Cornwell acceded to this demand for days later, on condition that sufficient deputies be appointed to maintain order. This step was taken, but the troops had scarcely pulled out when Logan County deputies raided a UMWA local at Blair on 6 October, resulting in the death of one man and wounding of five others. At this point, Governor Cornwell could see no alternative as incidents of violence continued to increase. He proclaimed martial law in Mingo and Logan counties on 27 November 1920. Federal troops under Colonel Herman Hall (19th U.S. Infantry) were in place by the end of that month. Hall ordered a "clean up" of Williamson which forced many dissidents to leave. The troops succeeded in restoring relative calm, and were again withdrawn in January 1921.(13)

The new year proved to be the most momentous and violent in the history of industrial warfare in West Virginia. On 15 January 1921, Capt. James R. Brockus, commanding Company B, WVSP, brought 45 state troopers into Mingo County on the heels of the federal withdrawal. Brockus was to remain in charge of State Police operations in Mingo for the rest of the decade. One of the first tasks his men faced was securing the court house during the trial of Sid Hatfield and other participants in the "Matewan Massacre." Baldwin-Felts agents also appeared in Williamson about this time, doubtless seeking revenge. They were ordered to leave because of the obvious threat they presented to public peace.(14) But violence flared again on 12-14 May in the so-called "Three Days Battle." Miners fired indiscriminately into several towns in Mingo County, many from positions across the Tug River in neighboring Kentucky. Law enforcement units were unable to suppress the sniping and ambushing, even though machine guns were brought into play on the 13th. Kentucky Governor Edwin P. Morrow cooperated by sending some of his state's National Guard units to Pike County to patrol and cooperate with West Virginia authorities. He joined Cornwell's successor, Ephraim F. Morgan, in a joint request to President Harding for U.S. Army intervention in Mingo County. Morgan made this request because he did not have any state troops to call upon. The legislature had passed an enabling act for reorganization of the WVNG on 28 April, but the law would not become effective until 28 July. And, as pointed out in the previous chapter, the WVSP expansion would not be realized before 14 July.(15)

Harding did sign proclamations of martial law for both states on 14 May, but these were never issued. He ordered the 19th Infantry at Camp Sherman to readiness state, but held up actually dispatching them pending the report of a V Corps staff officer sent to the strife scene. Maj. C. F. Thompson made his investigation, and reported that troop intervention was not necessary in his judgment. On 17 May, Harding's secretary sent the following message to Morgan:

The President...feels that he is not justified in directing the military forces of the nation to enter West Virginia... until he is well assured that the State has exhausted all its resources in the performance of its functions. On the representations thus far made, the President is not convinced that West Virginia has exhausted all its own resources, and he awaits more definite assurances.(16)

In view of the president's reticence, and perhaps to provide more "assurances" but certainly in response to local pressures, Morgan proclaimed martial law in Mingo County on 19 May 1921. This was the anniversary of the "Matewan Massacre" and a resumption of violence was expected. Almost the entire complement of State Police officers were ordered to duty to Mingo to enforce the proclamation. As events proved, "Matewan Day" passed with few serious incidents.(17)

The day before (18 May), the Mingo County sheriff had invoked Section 14 of the WVSP creative act by issuing a written warrant for Capt. Brockus to take charge of affairs in Mingo. Brockus could see no other salvation in the tense situation, and called a public meeting at the court house to ask for volunteers. Notices were likewise posted throughout the county, and names submitted were screened prior to selection and notification to report for swearing in as "volunteer state policeman." An identification card, rifle and ammunition (specially ordered from Charleston by Brockus) were issued at the time the oath was administered. Since Brockus was not personally familiar with enough local residents to render final selection, he had to rely on others. At first the sheriff and prosecuting attorney handled screening, but the volume of applications soon became unmanageable. Brockus, therefore, established a committee of seven prominent citizens to screen applications from Williamson residents. Outside the county seat, reliance had to be placed on the recommendations of superintendents and other mine officials. In this manner, the posse comitatus provision of the creative act was invoked to recruit some 750 "volunteer state policeman" as a reserve backup to the regular troops in maintaining order.

There was however, some doubt concerning the neutrality of most of the "volunteers" thus recruited.

The State Constabulary was increased in May 1921 by about 600 volunteers for special emergencies. Of these, 207 came from Williamson City.... Capt. J. R. Brockus, in charge of the State Police in Williamson Co. [sic], was unacquainted in this district. He therefore accepted 'a committee of citizens... to pass on the names submitted... [to select those who] could be relied upon to be issued a rifle and ammunition and go out in the interest of law and order.' This committee, as brought out in [Senate investigation] cross-examination, was largely composed of men whose interests were closely identified with those of the coal operators. In the outlying districts there is absolutely no question of the partisanship.(18)

It is noteworthy that although the governor had declared martial law, the civil courts remained open. This avoided, on the surface, the abuse of military courts trying persons for civil offenses. In reality, Major Davis--as acting adjutant general, the governor's personal representative and head of military courts in the county (which tried violations of martial law regulations)--personally decided whether a given case would be prosecuted under civil or military jurisdiction. There was no appeal from his decision, and the military courts did not allow bail. The potential for abuse is apparent. Davis became known derisively as the "Emperor of the Tug" among prounion miners.(19)

Captain Brockus commanded not only Company B but virtually all (90 percent) of existing State Police strength as a result of the concentration ordered by the governor. These men were removed from Colonel Arnold's control, and placed under the acting adjutant general, who administered the martial law proclamation.(20) There is evidence that the "volunteers" were not the only state policemen who failed to remain neutral. Barb reports that

...there were a number of flagrant violations of the most elementary civil rights. The miners charged that the State Police had jailed men for reading the United Mine Workers Journal and the West Virginia Federationist. Under cross-examination in the Senate investigation Captain Brockus of the State Police admitted that these charges were true... but claimed that these things had not been done under his orders.(21)

The State Police were involved in many confrontations with the union in the strike area. On the evening of 13 June 1921, a coal mine superintendent was shot at as he passed the Lick Creek tent colony in his automobile. Major Davis, Captain Brockus, and Sheriff A. C. Pinson led a small party of state troopers to the camp the next morning to arrest the sniper. As they were alighting from their automobile, they too were fired on. Davis ordered Sergeant Taylor to sprinkle the mountainside with submachine gun fire. This stopped the sniping, but the party decided that further advance was too dangerous. They returned to Williamson, collected 75-80 "volunteer state policemen," and set out for Lick Creek again. The force split up to seal off the colony and prevent escape. Again shots were exchanged, resulting in one person killed and two (including State Police Private James Bowles) wounded. Some 45 strikers were arrested and taken to Williamson City jail for questioning. Tents were searched for illegal weapons. A number of affidavits were filed as a result of the "Lick Creek Raid." Most alleged wanton destruction of property, theft, threats of rape and arson, and indiscriminate firing by police. Charges of brutality were levied against Brockus himself. Regardless of the charge, "it is difficult to determine with precision exactly what took place. But it is clear that the raid left the miners with an indelible impression of arbitrarily inflicted brutality and that it was of major importance to the subsequent evolution of the strike."(22)

Throughout this period, Governor Morgan had relied on the State Police (regular and "volunteer") and deputy sheriffs to enforce his 19 May martial law proclamation. The UMWA had challenged the validity of the proclamation, and won a critical state supreme court decision in Ex parte Lavinder (88 W. Va. 713, 1921). The high court declared that the proclamation was valid only to the extent it could be enforced by actual military forces, which test the State Police or deputies did not meet. In fact, the only military force available was the acting adjutant general (Major Davis). Faced with this decision, Morgan issued a second proclamation on 27 June 1921, reaffirming the earlier proclamation and calling forth part of the county's "enrolled militia" to enforce it. In so doing, Morgan employed the same militia statute criticized by Cornwell. The Mingo sheriff was to draft, or accept volunteers, to total 130 men. These were to be organized into "Company A and Company B, West Virginia Enrolled Militia," with command entrusted to Major Davis. The term of enlistment of these militiamen was set to expire on 27 August. This second proclamation of martial law would not be lifted until September 1922.(23)

The "Battle of Blair Mountain"

The lid was finally blown off tensions in the smokeless fields by an incident at Welch, McDowell County, on 1 August 1921. Sid Hatfield, miner hero for his part in the "Matewan Massacre," and his deputy Ed Chambers, had been summoned to Welch by the county bench. As they mounted the court house steps, with their wives, they were gunned down by a group of Baldwin-Felts agents, in retribution for the killing of Albert C. Felts. This was the final straw for prounion miners. As one historian observed, "The invasion of Lick Creek and the murder of Hatfield and Chambers were preludes to one of the great working class mobilizations and served as landmarks in American labor history."(24)

The UMWA called a protest meeting in Charleston on 7 August. Armed miners began to assemble at the old Lens Creek campground shortly afterwards. By the 23rd, several thousand miners were setting out for Logan and Mingo counties. Some of the men traveled in commandeered trains and automobiles. Since many were veterans, they employed military-type formations. The exact objective of this "March on Logan"--and whether or not Logan was actually the target--are still disputed.(25) In any event, advanced elements reached Madison (Boone County) by nightfall on the 25th. Governor Morgan alerted Arnold at State Police headquarters, and issued another appeal for Army assistance. Again Major Thompson was sent to make an on-the-spot assessment. This time he was in company with Brig. Gen. Henry H. Bandholtz, commander of the Military District of Washington. These officers met with Morgan at 4:00 a.m. on the 26th, and shortly thereafter with top UMWA district officials. Bandholtz made it clear that he would employ troops if required to stop the marchers advance and prevent bloodshed. Thus warned, the union leaders left the capital, overtook the leading elements by noon at Madison, and after much cajoling, convinced the miners to stop. On 27 August, Bandholtz drove along the line of march, talking with miners and forming his own assessment of the situation. He then reported to Washington that state officials had taken no steps to check the growth of the insurgency. Based on this report, Harding and the secretary of war decided on the 29th that federal intervention was not necessary. So far, the incident appeared merely a larger-scale replay of the 1919 "Miner's March."(26)

But even as the president was deciding, the specter of insurrection arose more threatening than ever before. Bandholtz found himself returning to Charleston, this time armed with a presidential proclamation of martial law encompassing Kanawha, Fayette, Boone, Logan and Mingo counties.(27) After a first-hand look at the situation, the general telegraphed his superiors:

It is believed that the withdrawal of the invaders would have been satisfactorily accomplished but for the tardy sending of trains [to return marchers to their homes] and particularly but for the ill-advised and ill-timed advance movement of State constabulary on Aug. 27, resulting in bloodshed.(28)

What was behind this dramatic turnabout? Logan Sheriff Don Chafin had sent Captain Brockus with a mixed force of some 130 state troopers, deputies and mine guards with warrants for the arrest of 40 miners at Sharples and Blair. The miners were accused of holding up, disarming and stealing the horses of four state troopers near Sharples on 12 August. On the evening of the 27th, Brockus' force encountered a concentration of yet-to-be-dispersed marchers, and shots were exchanged, leaving two dead and three wounded. This incident was immediately labeled the "Sharples Massacre" by angry miners, who now reversed course, heading back toward Logan County. Governor Morgan sent the adjutant general to Sharples on 29 August to command the marchers to disperse. When they refused, Morgan again requested urgent federal assistance.(29)

The next day, President Harding issued a proclamation calling on all persons to retire to their homes by noon on 1 September. After conferring with the secretary of war, Army assistant chief of staff, Bandholtz and a delegation of prominent West Virginians, he telephoned Morgan. Harding then decided to order in the Army to restore calm. There was general agreement that those persons who had not dispersed by the appointed hour "could be considered as having placed themselves in opposition to the United States...."(30)

By 31 August, some 4,000 armed miners were engaged in desultory combat with a defending force of 1,200 deputies, mine guards, volunteers and state troopers along the Logan-Boone county line. This force had originally been gathered by Sheriff Chafin, but command devolved to Colonel William E. Eubank, WVNG, on the 30th. (Interestingly, the order placing Eubank in charge referred to the action as a "military operation.") Colonel Arnold later testified that about 120 state troopers were in action on Blair Mountain itself, and a like number were occupying Logan city. The force on Blair Mountain comprised 80 men of Company B and the newly organized Company D (Lt. Harvey N. Rexroad), plus some 42 mostly untrained men brought from Charleston by Arnold himself. (Remember that the virtual doubling in strength of the WVSP had become effective only 47 days before.)(31) On 2 September, fighting lasted for 12-15 hours in what the newspapers were calling the "Battle of Blair Mountain." Skirmishing was heaviest along Spruce Fork Ridge and Beech, Hewitt's, Crooked and Mill creeks. (Blair Mountain is the watershed of the Coal and Guyandot river basins.)

The first federal forces arrived at St. Albans on the evening of the 2d. Altogether, about 2,100 soldiers were dispatched from Camp Sherman, Ohio, Camp Dix, New Jersey, Fort Thomas and Camp Knox, Kentucky, and Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana. In addition, the 88th Light Bombing Squadron flew in from Langley Field, Virginia, to provide reconnaissance support. (Four of the squadron's 15 aircraft were lost through accidents during their tour in West Virginia.) The Army set up head- quarters in rear of both the marchers (at Madison) and the defenders (at Logan). Colonel Eubank's force was subordinated to the federal military control, but willingly left the scene upon arrival of Bandholtz' command. The general did not have to use the presidential proclamation he carried from Washington. The marchers promptly surrendered their weapons and started for home. Most of Bandholtz' troops were pulled out on 6 September, and all were withdrawn by December 1921. Overall casualties in the "battle" were remarkably light: three killed and forty wounded in the defenders ranks, and an unknown but probably small loss among the invading miners.(32)

Public outrage over the "March on Logan," and the subsequent trial of UMWA leaders for armed insurrection and treason against the state of West Virginia, were strong factors in the virtual dissipation of the UMWA as a significant labor organization in the state. Perhaps even more important, however, was the fact that the forcible bid to break into the nonunion fields had failed--disastrously.

...with Logan lost, the prestige of the union cracked... [it] gradually lost ground in the remaining fields of southern West Virginia until, by 1926, the Kanawha, New River and Pocahontas fields were almost completely 'deunionized.'(33)

By the time the strike was finally cancelled in October 1922, the cost was estimated at 30 dead, 50 wounded and over $250,000 in property damage.(34) Unionism was dead in West Virginia until passage of the National Industrial Recovery Act in 1935. Before that law was declared unconstitutional, the state's coal operators had finally relented and almost all of the miners were organized under the UMWA. During this period of greatest unrest in the smokeless fields, four state troopers died in the line of duty. All were shot to death, one accidentally while improperly cleaning a weapon. The three who died at other men's hands were all killed in "Bloody Mingo:" Pvts. Ernest L. Ripley (November 1920), Charles M. Cackley (May 1921), and William F. McMillion (June 1921). There is no better evidence of the significance of the department's role in maintaining order during the industrial upheaval in the southern counties.

Industrial Warfare in the North

Industrial violence was not confined to the smokeless fields during the 1920's. In July 1922, nonunion miners in Brooke County who had refused to honor a strike call, were attacked by some 1,200 strikers from across the Pennsylvania line. In the resulting affray, 13 strike breakers, 7 union men and the Brooke County sheriff were killed.(35) In August 1924, operators in the northern fields began to repudiate their contracts with the UMWA. Following the now familiar pattern, the operators employed Baldwin-Felts agents to reinforce their own guards and paid deputies. A strike began in October, followed by evictions. Then commenced "a systematic destruction of property seldom equaled in industrial conflicts. Mines were blown up, railroad trestles and coal tipples destroyed, homes of strikebreakers bombed, and a reign of terror was created in the district."(36) Rather than the mass marches, rifles and machine guns which characterized mine wars in Mingo and Logan, the State Police were faced with combating techniques very similar to those of modern terrorism.

Superintendent O'Connor's men found plenty of action over the next four years. In one incident, an elaborate conspiracy was betrayed to the State Police, involving the mass murder of "scab" workers by strikers. Forty troopers were rushed in, seized the union hall, and dismantled some carefully fortified positions constructed by the union men.(37)

In March 1925, the reported theft of large amounts of explosives brought a State Police task force to the Fairmont area. The troopers ordered the Baldwin-Felts agents to stop evicting strikers unless a court order could be produced, which led to only a momentary reduction in tensions. During 1925-1927, four mines were destroyed in Marion, Barbour and Monogehlia counties, resulting in the deaths of 151 workers. The union charged operator indifference, but there was a very strong suspicion that terrorism was behind the deaths.(38) A bomb was found at the Monogah mine (Marion County) in 1928, just after a 400 man crew had started work. O'Connor assigned 12 troopers to work undercover to ferret out the responsible parties in this attempt and the successful bombing in Barbour County. Their investigations led to the arrest of the Barbour bombers, who were hiding in Newark, New Jersey, and Brooklyn, New York, at the time of apprehension. Officers investigating the Monogah case had followed a foreign radical striker across the Pennsylvania line to Pittsburgh. The terrorist was arrested as he recrossed the state line carrying weapons and ammunition. He confessed to taking part in the bombings, then informed on the leader of the terror/sabotage conspiracy. The resulting convictions smashed a well organized operation.(39)

The strike itself finally ended with the general economic collapse of 1929. It was "the last major conflict in West Virginia's coal fields."(40)

Other Law Enforcement Activities

In addition to duty in the strike zones, the State Police engaged in other, less dramatic law enforcement activity. Some related to the generally high level of public violence. For example, the 1925 Legislature had passed a firearms law requiring a permit to possess, carry or transport a high power rifle, machine gun, or submachine gun. The department was assigned responsibility for administering the permit program. By the end of Fiscal Year 1930, 952 permits had been issued, at $2 each. The troopers also instituted special fire, forest, fish and game patrols in Webster, Pocahontas and Randolph counties during 1920. In one instance, they performed an immediate service for the governor by physically carrying the state compensation commissioner from the commissioner's office! (The commissioner had argued with the governor and refused to willingly vacate his position.)(41)

Prohibition, of course, levied a tremendous workload on the State Police, since federal enforcement was inadequately funded. In August 1919, the revenue agent in charge in Huntington wrote to the state tax commissioner soliciting State Police assistance in moonshining raiding. The governor consented, but sufficient numbers were not available until December. At that time, Arnold dispatched 14 troopers under a sergeant to participate in joint federal-state operations.(42) Destruction of moonshine stills increased from a total of 42 in 1919-1920 to 1,192 in 1928-1930. During those years, the quantity of moonshine, mash, wine and other illicit liquor confiscated rose from 10,865 to over 250,000 gallons. In statistical terms, State Police arrest data reflected similar steadily increasing workload:

These figures reflect an incredible efficiency when viewed against the persistent personnel turbulence of the decade. As it entered the l930's, however, the department faced such crushing appropriations shortfalls that the desired levels of service could not he maintained.

There is no doubt that Arnold had molded a highly effective police force from the general outlines of the creative act. At times, it may have performed in a repressive manner, but this simply reflected the tenor of the times and military discipline and experience of its members. The force played a key role in restoring peace to West Virginia in the volatile post-war era.

The economic disaster which overwhelmed America after the Stock Market Crash of October 1929 progressively restricted the appropriations available for government operations at all levels. For superintendent Brooks' force, this meant severe manpower cuts at a time when the State Police were assuming new responsibilities, especially in relation to traffic law enforcement and safety.(2)

Coping With Depression

On 30 June 1930, there were 159 men on the roles, against an authorized manpower complement in the 188-288 range. These troopers were mainly distributed among the four companies and 58 substations located throughout the state. Two years later, an appropriations cut of $112,500 forced a reduction of 35 men. Actual strength stood at 125 on 30 June 1932, and Col. Robert L. Osborn(3) was pleading for at least sufficient funding to maintain the existing force. There were still four companies, but two were operating without executive officers (lieutenants) and average company strength had dropped to only 22-32 men. Eight substations had been closed down. No recruit school had to be conducted in 1932; so many men had been laid off in May 1931 that all vacancies could be filled by rehiring experienced officers.

Col. Presley D. Shingleton replaced Osborn in March 1933. His 1934 biennial report to the governor summarized the impact of additional budget cuts suffered during the biennium. The cuts had

...necessitated a complete reorganization without reducing the personnel of the department, therefore, on July 1, 1933 under an executive order two (2) of the four (4) companies which [had] been maintained since 1921, were mustered out in name only, and the personnel and equipment transferred into the two remaining companies... thereby effecting a considerable economy through the reduction of two (2) captains to the grade of lieutenant, two (2) first sergeants to the rank of sergeant, five (5) sergeants to the rank of corporal, and nine (9) corporals to the rank of trooper.

The department was also compelled to reduce the number of substations from 48 to 31, which further effected a considerable saving in barrack rental.

The reorganization had at least not cost the department any manpower authorizations, and actual strength was 121 men on 30 June 1934. Twelve new recruits had been trained at the capital for two weeks in January of that year. Shingleton was able to report that "the citizens of the State were being given the same protection as in the past." The field forces now consisted of Company A (consolidated from former Companies A and D) at Fairmont, and Company B (consolidation of former Companies B and C), in Charleston. Company A operated 15 substations, protecting 31 northern counties, and Company B operated 16 substations in the state's 24 southern counties. In his 1934 report, Shingleton took the optimistic view and requested that the State Police budget be doubled for 1935 (to $600,000).

The 1935 Legislature was not as generous as Shingleton had suggested, but it did come close by allocating $550,000 for the department. This allowed the recruitment of 75 new members (who trained for two weeks at Camp Conley, Point Pleasant) and, more significantly, a gradual reconstitution of the department structure authorized by the 1921 amendment to the creative law.

Coincidental with the enlistment of these new men on August 1, 1935, a third company [Company C, Elkins] was created, increasing the number of detachment headquarters to 61. This made it possible to locate a post in each of the state's 55 counties for the first time in history. Suitable transportation units and other equipment were also purchased in connection with this increased personnel and number of stations.

On March 1, 1936, the department was reorganized, creating another additional company [Company D, Beckley] without changing the number of men or the number and location of stations.

This remarkably laconic statement from Shingleton's 1936 report depicted a virtually total resurrection of the West Virginia State Police from its Depression doldrums. Under the reorganization, Company A remained at Fairmont, with 16 detachments; Company B, Charleston, controlled 12; Company C, Elkins, 14; and Company D, Beckley, 15. The number of companies has never since decreased, and a de facto fifth company was created in 1954 (see Chapter 9). It is interesting to note that the four companies did not reassume the same areas or headquarters sites as their pre-1933 counterparts. Old Company A had been headquartered at Shinnston; B at Williamson; C at Beckley; and D at Parkersburg. The distribution of new company headquarters locations highlighted the continuing change from preoccupation with policing the coal mining towns. Headquarters sites have, of course, been relocated in the years since 1936.

By June 1936, actual strength had reached 200 men, and Colonel Shingleton was pushing to the full authorized complement (still set at 288). The department was not destined to reach that size, however, for another 30 years. Actual strength had dipped slightly (to 197) in June 1938, but was to its then-record high of 212 one year later.

Headquarters Reorganizations

During this period, the department created several permanent headquarters level offices to provide centralized support to field (patrol) operations. Records of homicides, by county, had been kept since 1930. As the need for more efficient management of information became apparent, the Criminal Identification Bureau (CIB) was established in 1933 to provide centralized maintenance of arrest and conviction records. Lt. Charles W. Ray was placed in overall command. By 1932, each substation had been provided with fingerprinting capability, and an identiscope (camera) was available at headquarters for identification photography. In 1935, a state fingerprinting law was passed, and CIB added a fingerprint classification section to handle the anticipated influx from the field. Up to this point, the State Police had relied on the cooperation of the state health and agriculture departments' laboratories for chemical analysis in support of investigative work. The CIB expanded again in 1936 to incorporate a forensic chemistry laboratory.(4) Thus, the CIB was evolving toward eventual status as the official state identification bureau, and provided a number of valuable services, free of charge, to county and municipal law enforcement agencies as well.

This technological progressiveness ran counter to the prevalent conservatism in many state police organizations, as Bruce Smith pointed out in 1933.(5) The slender manpower resources available to these departments had been leery of expanding "overhead," as specialized investigative techniques required, at the expense of patrol forces. All employed fingerprinting to some extent, but were hesitant to exploit other forensic science opportunities. Although Smith was emphasizing the leading role of the Pennsylvania State Police in acquiring scientific capabilities, he could easily have chosen the West Virginia State Police as his example.

In June 1936, a second staff office was created by consolidation of the State Road Commission's safety work with the WVSP Highway Safety Bureau (later renamed Accident Prevention Bureau). Management was vested in W. C. Easley, a civilian and former SRC safety director. The division kept records on traffic accidents, injuries and deaths; coordinated accident prevention programs; conducted research and planning; and maintained a speaker's bureau staffed with safety education officers.

One answer to manpower shortages was more efficient communication for dispatch, information exchange, and command and control purposes. An experimental teletypewriter system had been operated between headquarters and Company A (Fairmont) in March 1934. The success of this test led to gradual expansion of the State Police teletype net.(6) Superintendents from Osborn on had urged establishment of a State Police radio system. Funds were finally appropriated by the 1937 Legislature. In March 1939, the department's first radio station (Moundsville) went on the air. Over the next 31 months, six more stations were added to the police network--Shinnston (June 1939), Beckley (October 1939), Charleston (December 1939), Romney (February 1940), Chapmansville (January 1941) and a mobile unit for emergency communications/command post purposes (October 1941). The system included receivers in each county sheriff's office and many municipalities throughout the state, as well as 116 radio cruisers, an aircraft, and 62 detachment receivers in the department net. Overall management of this system was entrusted to the lieutenant commanding the Radio Division, established in 1939 as the third headquarters office. To avoid tying up sworn officers in support jobs, radio operators and maintenance personnel were civilian employees.(7)

Traffic Safety

On 1 September 1929, the State Police entered a new era. On that date, responsibility for traffic regulation and road law enforcement was transferred to the department from the state road commission (SRC) Traffic Department. Along with the function, $20,000 in SRC appropriation was also transferred (unfortunately, this was a one-time transfer only). By 1930, about one-third of State Police manpower was devoted to road patrol, which was fast becoming the department's major function.(8) A few horses were retained, but 55 automobiles and 62 motorcycles had been procured for more effective highway patrol. The increased cost of vehicle procurement and maintenance (versus horses) required an offsetting reduction in personnel strength.

In addition to highway patrol, the State Police were responsible for several related functions, such as enforcing laws requiring the prompt return of automobile dealer tags (started in 1930), stopping drivers to be sure they were carrying valid operator permits, collecting on bad checks submitted to the SRC for automobile licenses, serving various SRC orders (including permit revocations and suspensions), inspecting the operation of vehicle safety equipment, and issuing warnings to violators. In 1928-1930, there were 5,319 road law arrests, but only 4,971 during the 1930-1932 biennium. This reduction reflected the change in emphasis to warning and driver education rather than arrest and punishment of offenders. (As mentioned earlier, a Highway Safety Bureau was created at Headquarters in 1936.)

In January 1931, the State Police, under a new law, were made responsible for examining operator/chauffeur permit applicants. They examined 27,246 applicants (and inspected their vehicles) in the first 18 months after the law went into effect, failing a total of 4,861. A further expansion occurred that same year when, under a joint agreement with the SRC and the superintendent of schools, the department began testing school bus drivers and inspecting their vehicles.(9) Of the 601 examined in the initial period, 59 failed to meet the standards prescribed by the State Police. By the 1932-1934 biennium, examination workload had increased to 42,557 applicants (8,303 failing) and 817 bus drivers (105 failed).

Systematic road patrol started in April 1934. The department employed 42 motorcycles and 16 roadsters but, due to personnel shortages, confined its efforts to those major highways with the highest traffic volume counts. In the pre-radio days, contact with patrol cruisers was maintained by telephone at designated service stations along the established patrol routes. During 1932-1934, the State Police had purchased 36 new automobiles but only six new motorcycles. This reflected an increasing concern over the hazards of motorcycle operation, which had killed, injured or disabled several of the department's officers since motorcycles were first used. By 1937 the proportion of patrol vehicles had altered markedly, with 100 cruisers being operated as opposed to only 26 motorcycles.(10)

In conjunction with the highway patrol mission, the State Police established a statewide, mobile first aid unit in the Fall of 1936. This was the first such unit operational in the United States.(11)

Criminal Activity

As might be expected, the Depression period created a significant increase in both crime and labor violence during the 1930's. The West Virginia State Police was able to meet this increase despite crippling personnel shortages.

Crime was a major issue in the 1930's, an issue to rival fears about the nation's economic collapse. Polls conducted by the National Economic League reflected this persistent concern. Respondents in 1930 listed administration of justice, prohibition, lawlessness, crime and law enforcement as the major national problems. There was little variation in the 1931 responses--prohibition, administration of justice, lawlessness and unemployment and the need for economic stabilization. As late as 1937, crime ranked fifth, after labor problems, efficiency and economy in government, taxation, and constitutional reform.(12)

Prohibition itself was exhaustively studied by the Wickersham Commission, which reported in January 1931 that Prohibition was clearly a farce. The commission deplored the inevitable lawlessness, ineffective law enforcement, disrespect for the law, corruption, and rise of organized crime. In hopes of saving the "noble experiment," however, the report recommended continuance of Prohibition.

But the American people had had enough, and repeal came with the Twentyfirst Amendment (December 1933). Eight states elected to remain dry and 15 (including West Virginia) made the sale of liquor a state monopoly. But high state and federal taxes prolonged the life of illicit distilleries and rumrunning operations, so that by 1935 authorities estimated that 60 percent of the liquor consumed in America was still "bootleg." Repeal eventually cut into the profits of organized crime, but many criminals simply intensified their infiltration of legitimate businesses and racketeering increased.(13) Destroying the source came too late to significantly weaken the first lifeblood organized crime empires.

Statistics on State Police arrests during 1928-1934 indicate the upward spiral of criminal acts, impact of Prohibition repeal, and pressure on manpower complements.

Other Prohibition enforcement activities included destruction of 1,192 stills and nearly 270,000 gallons of illicit liquor and wine.

The State Police played a key role in one of the most sensational trials in West Virginia criminal history. In January 1931, Logan City Police Chief Roy Knotts, former commander of the WVSP detachment at Logan, was murdered while distributing warrants for the arrest of slot machine operators. The governor appointed a special prosecutor to try the alleged murderer, in a situation which practically guaranteed a hung jury. Lt. Frank H. ("Red") Gibson (later to command Company C, Beckley) headed a 25-trooper bodyguard for the special prosecutor. The troopers also transported prisoners, served court orders, guarded jurors to prevent fixing, and provided security in the actual court room. The trial ended in February with the accused man being convicted and sentenced to 18 years in the state penitentiary. The governor ordered the State Police to close down slot machine operations in Logan County. On this authority, the attorney general brought pressure on the county sheriff to institute several desired reforms, including the removal of all slot machines within 48 hours.(14)

Industrial Unrest

Violence of another sort also plagued West Virginia during the 1930's. The federal government had passed (under the National Recovery Act) a number of laws recognizing the right of organized labor to bargain collectively with industrial management. Management, including coal operators, frequently resisted compliance and reverted to the ultraconservative stance characteristic of the early 1920's. This led directly to strikes and violence in many industries.(15) There was considerable truth to the repeated charge of Communist provocation. The Communists naturally took advantage of the prevailing economic chaos, causing riots such as those in Washington, D.C., and Dearborn, Michigan. Thankfully, for the sake of public order "... the American proletariat was physically and spiritually exhausted," and no major Communist success emerged.(16)

The coal industry suffered unrest largely because of the UMWA's understandable hesitance to conduct strikes. Radical elements, such as the (Communist) National Miners Union (NMU) and the IWW, gained in popularity. In the Central Competitive Field, for example, violence flared in Indiana (1932), Illinois (1932), Ohio (NMU, 1931; UMWA, 1932), and Pennsylvania, which proved to be a major battleground. The NMU eclipsed the UMWA in Western Pennsylvania, and there were several violent strikes in 1931 (so violent, in fact, that the Comintern disavowed NMU actions). Dissatisfaction with the UMWA also prompted a brief and unsuccessful attempt to establish a separate anthracite miners union in Pennsylvania.(17)

Closer to home, West Virginians were horrified by the specter of a Communist strike in Harlan and Bell counties, Kentucky. The UMWA called a strike in February 1931. On 4 May, four persons died as miners and deputies clashed in the "Battle of Evarts." Two days later, Kentucky militia arrived in Harlan. On the 16th, a raid on the union local headquarters netted several volumes of allegedly IWW literature. The UMWA shortly afterward cancelled the strike, creating a vacuum into which the NMU gladly leapt in June. A stream of avowedly Communist intellectuals also visited Harlan that summer. Operators, calling for an "anti-Red" campaign, began hiring armed guards. State relief checks for striking workers were cut off. The strike began to disintegrate, and an NMU general strike call in January 1932 only hastened the complete collapse.(18)

West Virginia itself suffered strikes during the Summer of 1931 in the Northern Panhandle, Clarksburg-Fairmont, and Kanawha-Boone fields. Roughly two-thirds of the total State Police complement were assigned to these areas.(19) Some 56,000 miners were jobless at this time, with many more of the state's total of 112,000 working only part time. The UMWA had disintegrated in 1924, and the short-lived West Virginia Mine Workers Union (WVMWU) died following the failure of an August 1931 strike. An attempted UMWA resurgence that same year was doomed for essentially the same reason--neither union could prevent the threatened hourly wage cut.(20)

Marshall, Ohio and Brooke counties were involved in a spill-over from the NMU-led strike in Western Pennsylvania. State Police were on duty from June to September 1931 to control instances of assaults on miners and destruction of property. Tear gas and night sticks were frequently employed to restore order. Strikes in the Monogahela-Barbour county area lasted one month longer and required a 30-man State Police task force to control. Twelve state troopers were assigned to Boone County in July-August, preventing serious outbursts. In the disruptive strike area, Kanawha County, very small task units proved adequate. There was an unusual strike in Mingo County during 1931, actually a spillover from Kentucky. Pipeline workers from that state entered Mingo attempting to stir up West Virginia workers, but the presence of four state troopers kept violence to a minimum.

During the Summer of 1932, State Police returned to the Clarksburg-Fairmont field. Violence levels were well below those encountered in 1931, but several weeks of patrol and containment effort were still required. The major strike of 1932 involved workers at the Weirton Steel Corporation. Captain Brockus (commanding officer, Company A) led a 40-man task force which battled unruly strikers on 10 October, employing tear gas in the process. This strike was settled eight days later.

State Police involvement in labor disputes, and the frequency of violence in those disputes, fell off significantly after 1933. But as late as March 1938, three state troopers were required to keep control at a rally called by the Progressive Miners Union at Eskdale. Hostile members of the rival UMWA were present, but the troopers exhibited a careful neutrality in "a situation which local officials in all likelihood could not have handled."(21)

Colonel Osborn aptly summed up State Police accomplishments during this turbulent decade in his 1932 biennial report:

The greatest value of such a department as this... is the constant and everlasting protection maintained for the people of West Virginia and the realization and knowledge that the state is being patrolled against the possible onslaught of criminals, the undesirables and the trouble makers. Serious disturbances that have arisen through labor difficulties, floods, communistic meetings, family quarrels that have taken on the proportion of old time feuds, hunger marches, unlawful assemblies and unlawful groups invading from other states, etc., have been handled with good judgement but with an impressive sternness that has been thoroughly convincing.

Disaster Assistance

One final aspect of the State Police's public service must be mentioned. During the Spring of both 1936 and 1937, the Ohio River valley suffered devastating floods which killed thousands, left hundreds of thousands homeless, and caused property damage in the millions of dollars. The department responded by detailing the majority of its manpower (50 percent in 1936, 75 percent in 1937) to patrol, prevent looting, and assist relief workers. Colonel Shingleton, who had acted as relief coordinator, and the State Police were formally commended by the State Legislature in 1937 for their great humanitarian work.(22)

Administrative Improvements

The department not only absorbed new missions and made significant technological advances during the 1930's, it also resolved some nagging administrative management problems. Under General Order No. 6 (1 May 1930), Colonel Brooks adopted the first official State Police manual, which had been prepared by Attorney General Howard B. Lee. Brooks required that all members be prepared to pass an examination, based on knowledge of the manual, anytime after December 1930. The manual contained "a detailed draft of the creative law, an analysis of major sections, forms of procedure and warrants, rules and regulations" of the department. In November 1934, the CIB began publishing the Police Exchange, a monthly bulletin for State Police field forces and other law enforcement agencies in West Virginia and neighboring states. The bulletin contained information on wanted criminals, missing persons, and stolen automobiles and other property. By June 1936, more than 500 agencies were receiving this publication, which filled a longfelt gap in data transfer.

The 1935 Legislature finally promulgated a law "prescribing in detail the uniform to be worn by members, and imposing a heavy fine [$200 maximum] and jail sentence [six months maximum, possibly combined with a fine] for the wearing of the uniform by any other person." Sections 9 and 16, article 2, chapter 15 (State Police Department) of the 1931 West Virginia Code were amended by law. Standardized for the first time officially were the famous "forestry green" uniform with black trim, campaign hat, Sam Browne belt, West Virginia State Police insignia (triangle), and rank insignia patterns. Interestingly, the definition of "person" as used in the amendment included "members of associations, corporations, its agents and employees, and officers and officials of any town, city or county." Thus, the department was able to reserve a distinctive uniform which could not be copied by other police agencies or private guard companies. This precluded unnecessary confusion among the general public.(23)

In 1938, Colonel Tallman ordered the correction of "a common administrative problem among police agencies" by establishing a temporary three-man board to produce a current orders/ memoranda manual. The completed manual became effective 1 July 1933, and took the form of a loose-leaf binder containing 35 current general orders and index. Changed orders could be easily removed and replaced to insure currency.

Every State Police superintendent since Colonel Arnold had deplored the inadequacy of the department's death and disability fund (established by the 1925 Legislature) and the lack of a retirement system. Brooks, for example, recommended that troopers be placed under the workmens' compensation act rather than continuing with the decrepit and insolvent fund. The 1935 legislature finally acted by creating a death, disability and retirement fund. Monies in the old death and disability fund--from witness fees, arrest fees, rewards and miscellaneous sources--were supplemented by appropriated funds and member retirement contributions. For the first time, retirement benefits were available after twenty years service, if a member was at least 55 years of age.

In view of the department's technological and administrative achievements, and sustained high quality of public service, in the face of so much fluctuation and uncertainty, it is not surprising that FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover cited the West Virginia State Police as one of the nation's four leading law enforcement agencies in 1936.(24) It was certainly recognition well deserved!

The Manpower Drain

During its third decade, the department underwent its most severe manpower shortage in nearly ten years, and saw its key command position turnover at a faster rate than at any other time in its history. Despite immersion in wartime duties, however, the department laid down significant plans for post-war transition and progress.

Colonel Tallman's biennial report for 1938-1940 stressed the need for increasing the State Police manpower authorization to 300. He pointed out that less than twenty percent of West Virginia's population lived in municipal areas serviced by organized police agencies. Thus, the majority of the state had to be protected by the State Police and the far less effective sheriff's departments. Personnel present for duty had increased between July 1938 (197) and June 1940 (212), but the authorized strength itself (220) appeared woefully inadequate when compared to the geographic area and population (over 2 million) to be serviced. Colonel Tallman also noted that the department's training facilities were "probably poorer than those of any comparable state police department in the nation." To correct this deficiency and provide professional training, he strongly recommended construction of a training facility in the South Charleston area. This recommendation was the germ of the current State Police Academy located at Institute.

As the prospect of American involvement in another world conflict became more imminent, the WVSP found itself with an unprecedented set of missions. As early as 1940, emphasis was being placed on protection of the state's mineral resources and industrial capacity from foreign agents or saboteurs. Beginning in January 1941, each member underwent training at Jackson's Mill to upgrade war-related skills. By 1942, Colonel Hess could report that over 60 percent of the force had been trained in civil defense, wartime traffic control, plant protection, and internal security. Personnel were also trained in proper use of .30 machine guns and .45 submachine guns, weaponry in common use in the armed forces.

The most serious aspect of wartime demands upon the State Police was a tremendous manpower drain. In his 1942 report, Colonel Hess projected the loss of men to military service as 26 percent. In anticipation of this loss, 23 cadets had been selected and trained for two months at Camp Kanawha, an old Civilian Conservation Corps camp near Charleston, beginning in May 1942. This training was conducted by officers from the field forces and laboratory personnel, under command of Captain- Inspector Harvey N. Rexroad.(2) In actuality, the demands of military service created a 40 percent shortfall in State Police strength, as 78 men were absent on military leave. This impact is clearly illustrated below:

Despite this staggering attrition rate, none of the 64 detachments were closed down during the war. There was a notable decline in the rate of ordinary crime, and in traffic volume during the war years. Emphasis in traffic law enforcement shifted from safety to conservation of materials needed for the war effort. However, these declines in normal operational concerns were more than offset by the demand for (a) services directly attributable to the war, such as personnel background investigations, security of military convoys and traffic on the Ohio River, and assisting selective service and ration boards,(3) and (b) suppression of "crimes against the public morals," which proliferated with the influx of dollars generated by increased industrial productivity. In November 1942, West Virginia staged one of the first successful blackouts in the country, an achievement in which the department's cooperation was crucial.(4) For organizing a sub-area air raid warning system, the department was awarded a citation of merit by the Civil Defense Agency in April 1943. In June 1944, a tornado struck Shinnston, killing over 100 persons and causing property damage estimated at over $25 million. The State Police responded by assigning 75 troopers to patrol against looting, direct traffic, maintain order, assist in removing the dead, and provide general assistance to relief workers. This was the most significant involvement of State Police resources in natural disaster work since the 1936-1937 Ohio Valley floods.

The department's policy for coping with the manpower drain imposed by military service calls was set forth by Colonel Hess in 1942:

Police service is a civilian function which must yield to the demands of the armed forces in wartime. It was therefore determined to enlist only men who [could] reasonably expect deferment from military service on the grounds of [dependency]... and who would then have further reason for deferment by reason of employment in an essential occupation. Under this policy, the fullest possible assistance was furnished to help solve the manpower shortage problem. The recruiting of each new member with dependents placed one more man in the war effort; as the recruit himself was thus transferred from a non-essential civilian occupation to an essential service and members of the department, single or married without children, could be released to enter the armed forces. This policy... was adopted and will be followed for the duration of the war.

General policies continued in effect despite the most rapid turnover of superintendents in State Police history. Colonel Tallman resigned at the end of March 1941, ending nearly for years of service. His successor, Col. Gustavus H. Crumpecker, died suddenly of a heart attack on 24 April, only 23 days into command. He was followed by Col. John W. Bosworth, who served slightly less than months before being removed by the governor on 20 December 1941. Bosworth's removal followed an investigation into alleged State Police brutality toward striking miners at Gary, McDowell County. The troopers were allegedly acting under direct orders from the superintendent.(5) Four days later, the governor appointed H. Clare Hess as ninth superintendent. Colonel Hess brought a much-needed stability to command in the turbulent war years, remaining in charge of the State Police until March 1945.

Looking To The Future

In his formal recommendations to the governor, contained in the 1942 and 1944 biennial reports, Colonel Hess addressed both wartime needs and long-term, post-war planning concerns. He highlighted the need for improved salaries and subsistence benefits, and for state payment of relocation expenses generated as members were reassigned to replace men called into military service. Ample automotive, ordnance and other equipment were requested, consistent with the priority needs of the armed services. Expanded radio communications were required to permit better utilization of the department