The Pennsylvania Town That Has Been on Fire Underground Since 1962
Centralia, Pennsylvania, has been burning underground since 1962. What started as a fire in a coal seam never went out, slowly hollowing the ground beneath the town. Winters once revealed the damage in odd ways: patches of snow that melted over steaming earth, backyards that split open without warning, and gas seeping up through cracks in the soil. A community that once thrived on mining is now nearly gone, left as one of the strangest environmental scars in the country.
A Town Built on Coal
Image via Wikimedia Commons/Tom Vazquez
Centralia was established in the mid-1800s on land rich with anthracite coal deposits. By 1890, the town supported nearly 2,800 residents, complete with schools, churches, theaters, and shops. Coal powered the economy but also drove conflict.
In the 1860s, the community saw activity related to the Molly Maguires, an Irish secret society whose members were accused of using violence while organizing for improved working conditions. For generations, coal shaped life here and left behind a complex network of abandoned tunnels.
By the mid-20th century, the coal industry was declining. Many mines had been sealed, which weakened the ground beneath the town. Despite this, residents continued their lives. The 1960 census recorded nearly 2,000 inhabitants. However, two years later, events began to unfold that no one could reverse.
The Persistent Inferno
The catastrophic chain of events began in May 1962 when a fire was started at the town landfill, located within an old strip mine. Although burning trash before Memorial Day was customary, this particular burn was different.
Flames slipped through unsealed openings, igniting the vast underlying coal seam. Once ignited, anthracite coal, with its steady supply of carbon and trapped oxygen, sustains a slow, hot burn that is extremely difficult to stop.
Early efforts to extinguish the blaze proved unsuccessful. The late 1970s saw residents observe alarming symptoms. A local gas station owner checked an underground tank and found the fuel inside had reached 172°F. The ground split open in spots, venting smoke and dangerous levels of carbon monoxide.
The danger escalated significantly in 1981 when a 12-year-old boy survived a fall into a 150-foot sinkhole that opened in his grandmother’s backyard, only to be saved by his quick-thinking cousin. The underground fire was now an unmistakable threat.
Government Intervention and Evacuation
Image via Wikimedia Commons/Brian W. Schaller
The deepening disaster prompted federal and state action. In 1983, Congress allocated $42 million for resident relocation. Over a thousand people accepted government buyouts, resulting in the demolition of about 500 structures. In 1992, Pennsylvania used eminent domain to condemn the entire borough.
Two decades later, the U.S. Postal Service officially revoked Centralia’s ZIP code. The community of thousands had shrunk to a small group of determined residents who refused to leave. The matter was complicated by legal disputes well into the 2000s, with some remaining residents claiming the state’s true motive was acquiring the estimated hundreds of millions of dollars in underlying coal rights.
A resolution was finally reached in 2013: the remaining holdouts were granted permission to live out their lives in Centralia, after which the state would claim the land. As of 2020, only five people remained.
Echoes of a Vanished Town
Today, a walk through Centralia is marked by profound silence. The original street grid persists, though most structures have vanished, consumed by re-emerging trees and brush. The fire continues to burn across hundreds of acres, with projections suggesting it will last for another century or two.
A Ukrainian Catholic church holds services weekly, its foundation safely situated on solid rock. Local cemeteries are tended to, even where smoke occasionally rises from the near ground. For a period of years, the infamous Graffiti Highway, a fire-warped stretch of abandoned Route 61, became a destination for tourists and photographers.
Once known for its colorful spray-painted graffiti, the abandoned stretch of highway drew visitors until 2020, when the owner buried it under dirt to keep trespassers away. A few years earlier, in 2014, locals dug up a time capsule ahead of schedule after someone tried to steal it. Inside were pieces of the town’s past: a miner’s helmet and lamp, chunks of coal, and even a pair of bloomers signed by residents back in 1966.
A Global Phenomenon, a Unique American Tale
Image via Wikimedia Commons/Mredden
Centralia is not the only place grappling with an underground coal fire; blazes in India and China also burn without regulation, and natural coal seams can spontaneously ignite worldwide. However, Centralia’s status in the United States is exceptional. The fire’s footprint extends across six square miles, burning up to 300 feet deep and advancing roughly 75 feet annually. Scientists estimate its duration at potentially 250 more years.
Its enduring legacy serves as a stark account of how a single oversight led to the erasure of a town. Centralia was once a place filled with everyday life, from miners to families. Now it exists as a haunting ghost town, with steam rising from the earth.