Fighting for Family Land
The Conservation League joins residents to fight off a proposed limestone mine.
Christie Moore points to homes as she drives her SUV along Wheeler Road in the tiny community of Earle and tells stories about the people who live, or used to live, in them. She knows or is related to most of them. Some of her neighbors unwittingly sold their property recently to RDA, LLC, believing a sod farm was to be built on a nearly 1,000-acre tract adjacent to their land. They learned later that the company was planning a 20-year limestone mining operation on that property, which would involve pumping out groundwater, blasting to crumble the rock and a stream of truck traffic on the rural roads in Williamsburg County to remove the ground limestone.
“They couldn’t have picked a worse location,” Christie said of her quiet community of farms, homes, and small businesses outside Andrews. She has spent her entire life in Earle, except for four years to attend college. Her parents lived there. Her grandfather has a farm there. Her husband John grew up in Summerville but spent time in Earle as a child. He moved there as an adult to be near his grandparents. His family’s roots go back generations.
Christie is deeply worried about the mining operation that would forever change her community. In other places, such mines have created sinkholes that swallowed buildings and land, even a portion of a cemetery in one South Carolina town. Walls and foundations have cracked, wells have dried up and waterways have been polluted.
Christie Moore shares a photo of her children. She fears a mine will wreck the Black River and quality of life.
‘You’ve got to fight’
“This is our family land,” she said, referring not just to the home and property she owns but also the entire community. “This is what we want to leave behind for our children. My grandparents and my husband’s grandparents wouldn’t have stood for this. They would have wanted us to fight.”
Christie and Billy Bruorton, a lifelong Earle resident who lives on land passed down from his great-grandfather, are two of hundreds of Earle and Andrews residents who have decided to fight the mine, which would be roughly bordered by Wheeler, Seaboard and Tad roads and U.S. Highway 521.
Both said help from the Coastal Conservation League, Winyah Rivers Foundation, SC Wildlife Federation and South Carolina Environmental Law Project (SCELP)has been invaluable, as they wait to learn if the state Department of Health and Environmental Control (DHEC) will issue the permits required for the mine to move forward.
The Conservation League’s North Coast Office Director Erin Hardwick Pate has helped the community recruit partners, develop organizing strategies, coordinate a rally before a DHEC public hearing and draw media attention to the quarry. The Conservation League also hired a mining expert and toured a mine in nearby Jamestown to learn more about the mining impacts of various mining practices.
Billy Bruorton surveys land in Earle acquired by RDA, LLC.
In September, SCELP, on behalf of the Conservation League and other environmental organizations, filed official notice with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers of its intent to se for violations of the Endangered Species Act and Clean Water Act. The legal action came after a year of calling on state and federal agencies to comply with environmental laws and conduct a thorough and exhaustive review of the impacts associated with proposed limestone mining and processing facility.
The nearby Black River is home to the Atlantic sturgeon, and endangered species. Earle residents hope that if their concerns and opposition aren’t enough to stop the mine, the sturgeon will be able to get the job done.
The massive mining operation would be bad for the river, and inconsistent with the way of life in her community, Christie said. She and her husband have three children, and the family spends a lot of time with aunts, uncles, and cousins in the area. They use the Black River to swim and fish.
In the mining process, 7.5 million gallons of water per day would be pumped into Murray Swamp, which flows into the Black River. That brings tears to Christie’s eyes. As a child, she would stop at PG&Y—a rural version of a convenience store run by Pete and Goldie Moore and their young’uns—buy a Coke and some peanuts, and then spend the day swimming in the Black Rive. She ended up marrying Pete and Goldie’s grandson. “That was glorious to me,” she said, “The Black River is my heart. Anything that might harm the Black River infuriates me.”
Everybody in Earle feels the same way, said Jonathan Miller, who represents the proposed mine-area on Williamsburg County Council. None of his constituents support the mine, including a community made up largely of black families that have been living along Tad Road on the edge of the proposed mine for generations. “They don’t want it,” he said. “They are afraid their way of life is over. The quiet. The serenity.”
The families on Tad Road don’t own large farms, he said. They mostly own several acres and work at various jobs to get by. He’s concerned about what will happen to them if the mine opens, he said, because most of them can’t afford to move. “Where do you go? You’re stuck there. You’ll raise your family next to a site where there’s blasting and trucks going in and out.”
He is leading efforts to move County Council to adopt ordinances that would place limitations on mining operations. Currently, Williamsburg County has no zoning and no authority to curtail environmental destruction caused by mines. He is also encouraging those families to fight, he said, but many of them question whether it will do any good. “It seems to them like the deck is stacked against them,” he said". “But you’ve got to fight. Who knows? You might land a lucky blow.”
Earle and Andrews residents protest against the mine ahead of a DHEC hearing.
Becoming Activists
Christie is hoping for that kind of luck. When she learned RDA was planning to build a limestone mine, she started doing some research. She didn’t like what she learned about the possible negative consequences for her community. And her fears were fuels by older family members and friends who remember a similar quarry opening in nearby Jamestown in the 1980s. They told stories about sinkholes, wells drying up, property damage, noise, dust, and traffic.
She launched a Facebook group to share her findings and interest took off. She chuckles at being called an activist as she conducts her research from her iPad from her living room couch. It’s a new role. “I’m quiet. I usually keep to myself and focus on my family.”
Billy, who owns property adjacent to the mine is the opposition group’s spokesman. He has a lot at stake. He too wants to pass land to his children in the same condition it was passed down to him, and his family’s hunting guide business would suffer if the mine opened and tainted the land. But thoughts of the daily problems he would encounter if the mine opened next door overwhelmed him. His cousin sold a piece of property to RDA that lies between Billy’s land and Wheeler Road. The mining company would have to pass through his land to get from its newly acquired parcel to the larger mine property.
He’s held many meetings about the mine at his home and spoke at the group’s first gathering in July 2017 at Earles Pentecostal Holiness Church. The group has grown since then, and opponents have planted “No Limestone Mining” and “Stop the Quarry!” signs all over Earle and Andrews.
The Conservation League is committed to standing in solidarity with Earle residents. We will help them in their current battle and explore new fronts with them if the paths they are on now are unable to stop the mine.
Christie also pointed to the yard signs as she drove along Wheeler Road. She stopped her SUV near U.S. 521, at a small cemetery near the edge of the mine site. Her husband’s infant brother is buried there, along with many of his ancestors. She thinks she owes it to them, and all the ancestors buried in Earle, to fight to keep the land safe. “They left us land. It’s their legacy. It’s up to us to take care of it now.”
Article written by Diane Knich for the Coastal Conservation League’s semi-annual magazine | Published Fall 2018