Cold Open

It’s just past 5 PM, on April 29th, 1903, in a coal mine beneath Frank, a small town in Alberta, Canada.

Time is running out for miner Dan McKenzie. In near-total darkness, he swings his pickaxe against the wall, trying to clear a path to freedom.

13 hours ago, Dan’s shift underground was interrupted by what sounded and felt like an earthquake. He raced to the mine entrance, only to find it buried under tons of rock. Then, the tunnels around him began filling with water. Now, the oxygen is running out, too. And Dan and 16 other miners are trapped in a desperate race to save themselves before they suffocate—or drown.

Dan takes a short, shallow breath and swings again, aiming for the softer coal seam. It’s easier to break than the surrounding limestone—and every second counts now.

But his arms are trembling, and his strength is almost gone. Still, he manages to raise the pickaxe one more time.

The blade bites deep into the wall. He twists the handle, levering it from side to side…until suddenly, the wall gives way. Daylight floods the tunnel as fresh air rushes through the opening.

The miners surge forward, clapping Dan on the shoulder. They all think their ordeal is over—but none of them knows what awaits outside.

After 13 hours underground, Dan McKenzie and the other miners escape with their lives. But as Dan climbs out of the mine, he’ll discover that the town he calls home is almost completely destroyed. The miners may have survived, but many of their friends and family have been killed in North America’s deadliest rockslide on April 29th, 1903.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is April 29th, 1903: The Frank Rockslide.

Act One: The Next Station is Frank

It’s just past 4 AM, on April 29th, 1903, at a railroad siding in Frank, Alberta, more than 12 hours before the miners make their escape.

Railroad brakeman Sid Choquette digs his shovel into a mound of freshly mined coal. He lifts, turns, and heaves it into a waiting wagon as a locomotive hisses softly a few yards up the track.

Sid’s back aches, and his eyes sting from the coal dust. This night shift is punishing—it’s cold, dark, and lonely work. So when he spots two men emerging from a nearby mineshaft for a break, a tired smile spreads across his face. He waves them over and gestures to a small stove nearby, keeping a pot of coffee warm.

Steam rises from three dented tin cups as he fills them. Sid takes a grateful sip and then cradles the cup in his frozen hands as the three men exchange scraps of news. But the gossip dies on their lips as a loud crack echoes through the still night.

A deep rumble follows, growing louder and louder. Then the ground shakes, and Sid’s cup slips from his fingers.

He looks up, and through the darkness, he can see an enormous shadow. Like the mountain itself is moving.

There’s a clank of metal as the locomotive jolts into motion. Sid turns and sees the engineer leaning from the cab, waving to him frantically. His mouth moves as he shouts, but the roar around them swallows his words.

Sid gets the message, though. He runs and grabs hold of the moving engine and hauls himself into the cab. The miners he just shared coffee with aren’t so quick, though. They just stand there, stunned, as the train surges away from them and over a narrow bridge. It reaches the other side just in time.

Because behind them, a vast wave of rock crashes across the railroad siding. The two miners disappear as the avalanche of stone keeps going, rolling down the slope and toward the town below.

Incorporated just a year and a half ago, the town of Frank only exists because of the seams of coal found just beneath it. The new town boomed as miners and their families flocked to the area in search of work. Four hotels were built to house newcomers, a school was set up, and the Canadian Pacific Railway laid track to carry Frank’s coal away. Now, hundreds of people call the town their home.

It sits in the shadow of Turtle Mountain, named after the giant hump at its highest point. But the First Nations who lived in the area before the white settlers had another name for it. They called it “The Mountain That Moves”—and they never stayed too long in the valley beneath it. Now, the residents of Frank have discovered why. The peak of the mountain has collapsed and tumbled down the slope, flattening the town below.

And in the eerie silence that follows, Railroad brakeman, Sid stares at the utter devastation. Half of the town has vanished beneath the rubble. The railroad tracks have gone too, and when he sees that, Sid’s stomach twists—the daily passenger train is due within the hour. When it steams around the mountain in the semi-darkness, it’ll plow straight into the rockslide.

Sid knows he has to try to warn the train engineer. He races to the nearest telegraph station, only to find the lines have been cut by the rock fall. His only option is to flag down the train in person. But he’s on the wrong side of the rubble.

So Sid scrambles up the loose stone, clawing his way upward. The ground shifts beneath him as he goes. Some of the rocks are warm, and he burns his hands as he drags himself across. He can hear people wailing in the darkness, calling for help. But he knows he can’t stop.

At last, after 20 brutal minutes, he reaches the far side. He spots the rails emerging from the rubble and follows them, running as fast as he can.

Because ahead, he sees the bright headlight of the train emerge from the gloom. With dawn just beginning to break, Sid jumps up and down, waving his arms and yelling as loud as he can.

When it’s just a few hundred yards away, the train starts to slow, then grinds to a shrieking halt just in front of him. Sid staggers to the cab and breathlessly tells the stunned engineer what just happened. The man climbs down and walks up the track to see for himself. And even in the growing light, he would never have seen the rocks and stopped the train in time. Sid has just saved dozens of lives.

But in the town below, many more have been lost. And as the sun rises over Frank, hundreds of survivors will begin the desperate task of digging through the wreckage, searching for anyone left alive.

Act Two: Rescue Operation

It’s the morning of April 29th, 1903, in Frank, Alberta, less than an hour after the deadly rockslide.

Beneath the rubble of her collapsed house, 15-year-old Jessie Leitch plants her hands on the ceiling joist that pins her to the bed. She pushes as hard as she can. But the large wooden beam doesn’t move an inch. Her struggles send dust flooding down through the wreckage, coating her face and filling her mouth. She coughs and wheezes, and then gets ready to try again.

During the night, Jessie was suddenly woken by what sounded like thunder. And then, her house collapsed around her. At first, she thought she was dreaming. But now, she knows better—this is a real-life nightmare. She doesn’t know how long she’s been trapped. All she can see are splintered fragments of what used to be her bedroom. But she can hear her younger sister May, crying somewhere nearby.

So Jessie calls out to May, trying to keep her spirits up. She hums a familiar tune, and after a moment, May joins in, and the two girls sing quietly together in the darkness.

But then Jessie stops. She can hear a new sound now—the crunch of footsteps above them. She cries out for help, and the footsteps move closer. As they do, she feels the weight of the ceiling joist press harder on her chest. Whoever it is, they’re right above her.

But the added weight forces the air from her lungs. She hears people calling out her name and those of her family—but Jessie can’t respond. She can barely breathe. And slowly, the voices begin to drift away. As her would-be rescuers leave, the pressure on her chest eases. And gasping for air, her throat hoarse, Jessie shouts at the top of her lungs.

The footsteps return at a run. Jessie hears rubble being moved above her head. Wood scraping and stone shifting. Then, a piece of the ceiling is lifted away, and sunlight washes over Jessie’s face. She breathes fresh air at last.

As her eyes adjust, she recognizes her neighbors standing over her. They’re all covered in dust and mud. Some are bleeding from cuts and grazes. But they are all relieved to see Jessie and May are alive. And working together, they lift the heavy joist away and help the girls out of the wreckage.

Soon, Jessie and May are hustled away to safety, where they are soon reunited with their two-year-old sister Marion, who is being cared for by neighbors. Marion survived the rockslide in miraculous circumstances—she was flung from her bed as the house collapsed around her, and she landed uninjured in a pile of hay. But the rest of Jessie’s family were not so lucky. Her parents and four brothers are all dead.

Over the next few hours, the rescue effort continues, and similar stories emerge from one ruined house after another. At one address, a family of six have all managed to claw their way out of the wreckage. They’ve suffered broken bones and some deep cuts, but they’re alive. In a neighboring house, though, everyone has died, and the only survivor from the family is a daughter who’d been allowed to spend the night at a friend’s house for the very first time.

The devastation stretches far beyond the residential areas as well. At a Canadian Pacific Railway work camp, twelve men are missing after their wooden shelters were swept away. Three miners working on the surface when the slide hit are also lost.

Rescuers assume the same fate has struck those underground. 17 men were on the night shift in the mine when the rockslide cascaded down the mountain and sealed the entrance. With so many people to search for in the town, rescuers on the surface reluctantly abandon the miners to their fate.

But the miners themselves refuse to give up. As water rises and oxygen thins in the tunnels, they begin digging their way out of the blocked entrance. But there’s only room in the tunnel for two or three to work at a time, and progress is slow.

So 13 hours after the rockslide, just three men will still have the energy to swing their pickaxes—the rest are slumped, exhausted, and barely conscious. But just as time seems to be running out, the miners cut a path through the rubble and emerge onto the surface.

Some of the miners will then be reunited with their loved ones. Others will learn that their entire families have been wiped out. But no one in the town of Frank, above or below ground, will be entirely untouched by the tragedy.

Act Three: Premier Inn

It’s May 1st, 1903, in Frank, Alberta, two days after a rockslide destroyed the town.

Fred Haultain peers through a pair of binoculars at the top of Turtle Mountain. Fred is the 45-year-old premier of the Northwest Territories, and he’s come to Frank to help coordinate the rescue efforts.

Behind him, what was once a busy main street is now a wasteland. A handful of residents move quietly through the debris, picking through what’s left—but there is little hope of finding anyone else alive now. And the danger isn’t necessarily over yet.

The mine owners are already pushing to clear the shafts and resume operations. But others warn that the mountain isn’t stable, and that another collapse could wipe out what remains of the town. So it’s up to Fred to decide what to do.

As he squints at the mountain’s peak through the binoculars, another scatter of rock breaks loose and tumbles down the mountainside. It’s a small fall, but enough to make up his mind. He orders an immediate evacuation. No one is to return to Frank until they’re sure it’s safe.

Police officers then sweep the town, making sure everyone complies with the order, but they meet little resistance. Few need convincing to leave. And for more than a week, the devastated town is eerily still and silent, while the local authorities watch the mountain above for any sign of movement.

It’s only after nine days with no further landslides that Frank is declared safe. But it will take weeks before many residents feel ready to return.

Their fear is understandable. Geologists estimate that more than 120 million tons of rock came crashing down during this rockslide. 77 people have been confirmed dead, more than a tenth of Frank’s population.

But the rockslide won’t be the town’s last brush with tragedy. In 1914, an explosion will rip apart the nearby Hillcrest Mine. And among the 188 men who lose their lives in this disaster will be one of the miners who dug his way to freedom 11 years earlier, after the Frank Rockslide devastated the town on April 29th, 1903.

Outro

Next on History Daily. April 30th, 1963. Inspired by Rosa Parks, a bus boycott is launched in the English city of Bristol to protest racial discrimination.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammed Shahzaib

Sound design by Mollie Baack

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Paul Nicholls.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.