When mining appears on television, it is on CNN, with the caption: "Six
Trapped in Tragic Accident. Stay tuned for rescue." There are no sitcoms about quirky Cornish mining families, no Lifetime movies that expose the secret emotional lives of miners. If culture is any indication, Americans understand mining to be, at best, an unfortunate career choice. And anyone who has opened an environmental studies textbook, with its photos of strip mining and rivers of floating dead fish, knows that mining is up there with, say, nuclear waste spills on the list of activities that have most quickly destroyed the earth's landscape.
Leadville's National Mining Hall of Fame and Museum, however, aims to wholeheartedly embrace the positive side of mining. Like many contemporary museums, its purpose is not merely to edify, but to persuade. Exhibit after exhibit works to convince the viewer that mining is a pinnacle of human achievement--or at least, a necessary evil. Plaques nailed to the wall throughout the sprawling building remind the viewer that "Everything
begins with mining. Everything."
To drive that point home, cheerful panels help visitors connect the glass cases of stones, metals, and crystals with their own lives. Almost immediately after paying the $7 entrance fee, the visitor is stopped by a mural of a child's house in bright pastels with the grammatically enigmatic reminder "Before you leave for school in the morning, you use
over 24 minerals (not counting your house)." Houses are a new type of mineral? Nevermind.
The scene quickly changes as the visitor steps into a darkened mine replica. Faux coal glimmers by the light of the mannequin's headlamps. Two stocky men with dusty hands and blackened moustaches motion to each other over lunch, their tin pails beside them. Behind them, the proverbial yellow canary hangs in its cage, as if waiting to warn the men of imminent danger. Like many of the museum's replicas, the tableaux is grittily
romantic, providing viewers with a "historic" scene that exactly matches their imagination.
The remainder of the museum cuts back and forth between similarly nostalgic replicas, informational exhibits about mining, and displays about the ubiquity of mined materials. Panels throughout the building work to remind doubters that their lives could never be the same without mined materials. One exhibit quotes a museum visitor who allegedly claimed that mining didn't affect him, since he worked on a computer. He is refuted with a class case that displays each piece of a computer alongside a note about what mineral is required to manufacture it. According to the EPA," visitors are told, "the average desktop computer contains over 36 elements, all of which have to be mined."
Nearby, visitors concerned about the junction between mining and wilderness are reassured. "How much land has been scarred for mining?" a panel on the wall asks. "About the same amount as has been paved for airports in this country" is the answer. Beside it, a large quote from the decidedly pro-mining stance of the first Chief of the Forest Service, Gifford Pinchot, echoes what is surely the museum's belief: "Everything
in reason should be done to facilitate the efforts of the prospector and miner to open up and develop the mineral wealth within the national forests."
Visitors tour the entire sprawling museum before entering the Hall of Fame on the third floor. Here, several rooms serve as "a memorial for men and women who achieved lasting greatness in the mining and natural resource environment." Hundreds of plaques on the walls describe each inductee's contribution to the field of mining. Visitors inclined to read the small print carved on each plaque can edify themselves with information about such famous miners as Francis M. Smith, "The Borax King," who courageously
pioneered the borax industry in Death Valley "with his courage and his 20-Mule Teams."
Exhausted visitors, their head now spinning with the role of mining in modern-day life, should take advantage of local opportunities for sustenance. Provin' Grounds coffee shop and bakery (508 Harrison) has fresh-baked bread, coffee, and an assortment of mismatched, overstuffed chairs. Think outside the box and try their homemade biscuits with your latte, or spring for a decadent chocolate croissant. If you need something more, dine at one of Leadville's many Mexican food restaurants. Manuelita's (311 Harrison) has excellent authentic food in a simple setting, Casa Blanca (118 E 2nd Street) is known for its quick service and excellent margaritas, and The Grill (715 Elm Street) is best for a long, social meal.
And if your appetite for mining still isn't quenched? Take a bike ride, run, or ski along the Mineral Belt Trail. This 11.6 mile trail through the mining district of town gives visitors the chance to view everything from old headframes and crib walls to "merlot pools" of acid mine drainage. Informational plaques along the way explain the past and present drama of mining in Leadville--from the first discovery of gold to the present Superfund cleanup.
