The Rose Run Riots of Bath County, Kentucky (1912)
Bath County, Kentucky is known for its rolling hills, springs, and horse country—but over a century ago it was also home to one of the most significant iron-ore operations in the state. The Rose Run Iron Company, situated between Olympia and Polksville, promised jobs and industry for a rural county that badly needed both. By the summer of 1912, however, those promises gave way to strikes, sabotage, armed guards, and a court-ordered disarmament that locals would long remember as the Rose Run Riots.
A Promising Mine
Geologists had been aware of Rose Run’s value for decades. The Kentucky Geological Survey identified the Rose Run and Preston deposits as among the most significant iron-ore banks in Kentucky, with ore bodies running through the Brassfield (Clinton) beds.¹ By 1905, the Rose Run Iron Company near Owingsville was producing tens of thousands of tons. A U.S. Geological Survey bulletin noted “the mine of the Rose Run Iron Company near Owingsville, Ky.” and tallied roughly 25,000 tons of ore shipped that year.²
This wasn’t a backwoods furnace—it was an operation with outside capital, professional engineers, and connections stretching as far as St. Louis.³ The tramlines and wooden trestles that carried ore out of the hills symbolized more than infrastructure. They were lifelines, and in 1912, they became battlegrounds.
The Strike of 1912
By early summer 1912, the mineworkers of Rose Run had walked out. Wages, hours, and dangerous conditions fueled the decision. The strike dragged on for months, leaving the operation divided between strikers, loyal men who stayed on the job, and company-hired guards watching over the property.
On Wednesday evening, July 17, 1912, around 6 p.m., the trouble surfaced again. The Bath County News-Outlook reported:
*“Lawlessness broke out again… two bents of a trestle were damaged.”*⁴
The matter-of-fact tone only underscored the seriousness. This wasn’t the first incident, but it was one that made the county sit up. A damaged trestle could derail cars, cost money, and kill men.
Violence Makes the Wires
By September, the dispute had gone beyond Bath County and hit the regional news wires. On September 20, 1912, a Lexington dispatch printed in the Augusta Daily Herald summarized the scene:
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The strike had been “in progress for the past three months.”
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The company had posted armed guards.
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A reward was offered for the “trestle burners.”
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Around 300 strikers were holding firm.
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And, perhaps most damning, there had been “much damage” at the plant.⁵
Just days later, another wire report described an explosive encounter. Strikers lined up on both sides of the track and challenged ten guards riding a train near the mines.⁶ The imagery is stark: a train rolling into contested territory, guards staring down a gauntlet of men who had once worked those very tracks.
Court Cracks Down
By October, Bath County’s legal authorities were compelled to intervene. On October 23, 1912, Bath Circuit Judge Young issued a sweeping order requiring the strikers to **“come into court and surrender their arms.”**⁷ Newspapers across the region described it as a “drastic order” intended to halt the “rioting and fighting at the Rose Run mines.”
Reports from the same period noted that not only had a trestle been destroyed, but two company-owned tenant houses were also burned.⁸ Violence was no longer limited to the mine’s infrastructure—it had reached into the homes tied to the company itself.
One out-of-state paper even singled out a man named Browning, a former employee, in connection with the unrest.⁹ Whether he was an instigator, a symbol, or simply a recognizable name among the strikers remains unclear, but his mention shows how personal the conflict had become.
Legacy of the Riots
The Rose Run Riots did not become as bloody or infamous as the coal wars in Harlan or Mingo, but for Bath County the summer of 1912 marked its own labor war. Families were split, property was destroyed, and a sitting circuit judge ordered workers to lay down their guns in open court.
The mining continued in later years—photographs from 1919 show men still working the Rose Run ore banks—but the events of 1912 left an imprint.¹⁰ Long after the smoke cleared, locals could point to the old trestle embankments along Rose Run Creek and recall the season when the county’s promise of iron and industry nearly came undone.
Endnotes
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Kentucky Geological Survey, “Iron Ore,” notes Rose Run and Preston deposits as the most significant iron-ore deposits in the state, with a 1919 photograph of Rose Run mining.
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E. C. Eckel, Iron and Manganese, U.S. Geological Survey, Contributions to Economic Geology (1905): “Section at mine of Rose Run Iron Company near Owingsville, Ky.” Production ~25,000 tons in 1905.
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Engineers’ Club of St. Louis, 1904 roster lists Philip N. Moore as treasurer of the Rose Run Iron Company of Kentucky.
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Bath County News-Outlook, July 17, 1912: “Lawlessness broke out again… about 6 o’clock p.m. two bents of a trestle were damaged.”
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Augusta Daily Herald, Sept. 20, 1912, Lexington dispatch: strike three months, armed guards, reward, ~300 strikers, “much damage.”
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Wire report, late Sept. 1912 (New York–area press): strikers “lined up on both sides of the track” and challenged “ten guards on a train” near Rose Run.
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Owensville, Ky., Oct. 23, 1912 press report: Circuit Judge Young orders strikers to “come into court and surrender their arms” to halt rioting.
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Regional brief (Mt. Sterling press), Oct. 1912: “trestle and two tenant houses destroyed” in Bath County during Rose Run strike.
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Out-of-state Kentucky digest, Oct. 1912: mentions former employee “Browning” in relation to Rose Run unrest.
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Kentucky Geological Survey archives, 1919 photograph of Rose Run mining operations in the Brassfield (Clinton) beds.
