The Tragic Death of ‘The Greatest Cave Explorer’
By: Jean Campbell
Tags: Kentucky, Memoir, Rescue, Caves, History

The Tragic Death of ‘The Greatest Cave Explorer’

The entrance to Sand Cave. Courtesy Wikipedia.

Floyd Collins was born in 1887 in Auburn, Kentucky, in the days when families got around by horse and cart. He grew up tough, learning to hunt and forage in the forests and exploring nearby caves.

Most of all, Floyd loved caving and dreamed of growing up to discover his own cave.

He had five brothers — James, Andy, Marshall, and (the youngest) Homer — and two sisters, Anna and Nellie. (One brother was also named Floyd).

The Collins family lived within spitting distance of the largest known cave system (then and now) in the US: Mammoth Cave. In the early 1900s, after Mammoth Cave was discovered and commercialized, public cave tours were a hot commodity and anyone with his own cave could charge an entrance fee.

There was no shortage of caves in central Kentucky and by the time he was 30, Floyd had already discovered a sizable one he named Crystal Cave in Flint Ridge. Crystal Cave was visually stunning but far off the beaten track (it’s now been linked with the rest of the massive Mammoth Cave system). He had trouble finding paying customers for his tours.

Floyd needed a show cave closer to the main road.

Floyd exploring a cave in an undated photo. Photo credit

Floyd opens up Sand Cave

At age 37, Collins was experienced in all aspects of cave exploration. This included digging, finding new passages, and assessing the general suitability of a cave for commercial use. In 1924, he made a deal with three neighbors: if he found a cave on their property, they would partner up to develop it. The first promising cave he found came to be known as Sand Cave.

On a warmer and wet January day, he reached the entrance of Sand Cave, ready to spend another 12-hour day digging. At day's end, he turned around and began squeezing his way through a tight passage to reach the entrance. It was then that two pieces of terrible luck befell him.

He was 55 feet underground when he knocked over his kerosene lamp and the only source of light. Floyd remained calm, however — he’d gotten out of worse scrapes and could easily reach the surface in the dark. As he moved through the tight passage, he pushed off a rock wall. In so doing, a 26-pound boulder fell on his lower leg. His left arm was stuck beneath his body. Despite pushing and pressing, he could not free his ankle and calf from the rock. Floyd was pinned, unable to reach behind to free himself.

Floyd Collins. Photo courtesy Wikipedia.

Floyd Collins lay still, in total darkness, alone and helpless. It was January 30, 1925. The cave held a steady temperature of 54 degrees.

A friend, a light, and food

His family knew he was caving but no one got concerned right away. After a full day without seeing Floyd, they began searching. The next day, a 17-year-old acquaintance dropped into the entrance of Sand Cave and got close enough to reach Floyd via voice contact.

It had been 25 hours since his ordeal began. He’d spent the time scratching at rock and dirt till his fingernails bled. He would periodically fall asleep from the effort, wake up and scream, try to free himself — in a torturous cycle.

Homer Collins was the first to see his brother and came back out to get food. He crawled back inside, making sure to bring coffee, crackers, and sausages. Homer dug in the loose rock and gravel around Floyd’s body but his efforts were futile. As soon as he removed loose materials, more replaced them.

And Homer wasn’t impressed by the help his brother had gotten or the prospects for rescuing him. He was deeply worried when he saw where Floyd was, and how he was trapped.

In Trapped: The Story of Floyd Collins, authors and cavers Roger Brucker and Robert Murray explained Homer’s fear:

“A problem immediately confronted Homer that frustrated every subsequent rescuer. If a person came into the chute headfirst, he was forced to work upside down and was compelled upon leaving to push himself feet-first up the sharp slant and then backpedal twenty feet more before he could turn around. If he dropped in feetfirst, as Homer had just done, he could not bring the upper part of his body down to Floyd’s level without contorting himself into almost impossible positions.”

The rescue efforts of Homer and Skeets

Homer Collins, who had made his first foray in around 4 pm, was the only man to have made physical contact with Floyd — and he came out of the shaft hours later, exhausted and hypothermic. He went back in at midnight and spent eight hours hacking at the passage walls and ceiling, trying to open up the tunnel. When he came back out, dozens of strangers had shown up, and the smell of cigarettes and moonshine filled the cold night air.

It was known throughout the region that Floyd Collins was the best caver around. His skill had allowed him to reach a passage few others could. As a result, even though nearly 100 men now stood at the entrance to Sand Cave, none (except Homer) could reach Floyd. Worse, the trapped man could hear them talking and theorizing, without doing anything.

A full day passed and no one else entered the cave, but a reporter approached Homer to find out what was going on. The young man was named William B. “Skeets” Miller, and he was determined to get the story. Homer told him the real the scoop was inside Sand Cave and Skeets Miller was welcome to wedge himself into the hole.

Fortunately, Miller was a lithe 21-year-old and 117-pound featherweight. He was stuck at a job where he rarely got a byline, and immediately grabbed coveralls and a lantern. He slid down the chute, landing on Collin’s head, then wriggled back up to reposition himself. There would be no interview with the trapped caver: Floyd Collins was out of it and not saying much.

But Skeets learned more important information in his short trip underground. He gained first-hand knowledge of how tough the rescue would be, if it was even possible. And he immediately developed an admiration for Floyd Collin’s talents as a caver.

Skeets also impressed Homer, who’d been listening to a lot of talking and no action from the disjointed band of so-called rescuers.

A 100-foot rope

The next to arrive on the scene was a firefighter from Louisville named Robert Burdon, who climbed below and saw for himself how impossible the situation was. He suggested to Floyd they pull him out, upper body first, using a rope which might “take off his foot.” Burdon’s plan was extreme but the choices were fast evaporating and the increasingly desperate Floyd agreed.

Homer led Skeets and Burdon into the cave. The men brought coffee, ham sandwiches, and a 100-foot rope. Floyd ate and admitted he didn’t want to lose his foot. Homer fed his brother a sedative anyway, preparing to rope him out.

The plan failed; Homer called it off after hearing Floyd’s screams, and when he could see that Floyd’s body would be stretched into an impossible L-shape that no man could survive. Despite their efforts, they could not move him one inch. Burdon fainted as he emerged from the pit.

A chain of men

Floyd stated on several occasions that he was not afraid of death. He didn’t expect his death to be so drawn out, however. The next man to reach Floyd felt he could make a difference.

Floyd’s friend Johnnie Gerald arrived and managed to accomplish moving a half-ton of rock. This effort made Floyd more comfortable, allowing him to move his right leg and exposing the lower half of his body. But it did not free him, as debris continued to pile up.

Gerald was an important part of the story, however. While Burdon schemed, and Skeets wrote ever more popular articles, and Homer recovered — Johnnie promised Floyd he wouldn’t let just anyone down the passage. Burdon tried to revisit the idea of hauling Floyd out with a rope but, despite the fireman’s superior knowledge of rescue methods, the crowd had turned against him.

By hour 100, Skeets (the smallest among them) had devised a plan to create a chain of men to transport food in and rocks out of the cave. He firmly believed that if they could clear enough space around Floyd’s lower body, they could remove the rock that was trapping his lower leg.

By hour 108, the chain of men had done just that — exposed the rock. Now, Skeets just needed to transport a jack into the cave to leverage it out of the way. While he had some initial success, the intrepid reporter found there were two problems: the rock, once lifted, kept shifting back into position atop Floyd’s leg. But the greater problem was fatigue. Skeets was the only man who could get into position to wield the jack and he wore himself out as the hours passed.

Skeets emerged from Sand Cave exhausted, but ready to compose the next chapter in the story that was now getting national attention. With bruised fingers, he filed an update into what was happening in Cave City and at Sand Cave. Meanwhile, the National Guard had arrived.

‘Please don’t leave me’

Skeets Miller was not only gaining a following as a reporter, he was hailed by every man on the scene as a hero. “Skeets Miller is one of the nerviest boys I ever saw,” Burdon remarked. “He not only deserves all the credit he has been given but a whole lot more.”

Until now, going on day five, few professionals were involved in the rescue efforts. Henry Carmichael, who directed the Kentucky Rock Asphalt Company, had been watching. He saw that the operation desperately needed an expert in moving rock. He sent men in, and due to the prior efforts of Skeets and his gang, was able to open up the passage further. Sand Cave was also, however, becoming uncharacteristically unstable.

Typically, Kentucky caves are stable environments. But nearby snowmelt from men’s campfires, combined with the body heat of rescuers, had created dangerous cracks in the ceiling rock. Rescuers faced loose pebbles and could see the catacomb becoming more dangerous by the hour.

Rescue attempts at Sand Cave, January 1925. Photo credit

At 4 am on February 4th, the cave walls collapsed as Floyd Collins was begging for something to drink. He had been underground for 114 hours and could be heard sobbing as the sound of falling rubble abated. “Please don’t leave me,” echoed from the wet, dark tunnel.

The story goes viral

Carmichael was in charge, and Johnnie Gerald was back in the cave directing men to remove rocks and shored up walls and ceiling with wood. After eight hours, Floyd could see people again. The respite didn’t last long, however. As Gerald crawled into the pit for the final time, he was dismayed to see a pile of rocks between him and Floyd. Feeling defeated, he tried to figure out his next move — and a rock fell on his head. He yelled for Floyd, who responded with “I’ve done gone home and gone to bed.” Another rock fell, this time landing on Gerald’s back.

Gerald emerged from Sand Cave vowing never to go back inside.

At hour 142, the state of Kentucky took over the rescue operation. Their leader, Lt. General H. H. Denhardt, assembled miners and engineers to dig a shaft directly to Floyd. His team of experts immediately alienated locals, whose experience and input was ignored.

Locals shook their heads as they watched the experts come to a conclusion they already knew: gas-powered heavy equipment would release fumes that would kill Floyd. To dig a shaft, hand shovels and picks were necessary.

A team of 75 men began digging at hour 146. Carmichael estimated they could sink a 55-foot shaft to reach Floyd within 30 hours.

As the clock ticked, Carmichael was proved wrong. At the 30-hour mark, his men had dug 17 feet. The passage continued to become wet and warm and unstable. Meanwhile, the scene nearby had turned surreal. Cave City (population 690) now swelled with 10,000 onlookers. The story of Floyd Collins was being broadcast — live — by the newest media sensation: radio. A crowd of 2,000 pushed against makeshift barbed wire fences, trying to get a glimpse of rescuers hauling Floyd out of the cave.

The finale

Floyd Collins was in danger of death by hypothermia. The 54-degree temperature inside the cave (which likely rose a degree or two) combined with moisture was a deadly environment.

It has been nearly 10 days since Floyd had seen daylight. The shaft was now 25 feet deep. Doctors and nurses waited in the wings, to attend to him when they pulled him out. A crowd of over 500 college students volunteered to help however they could. The crowd, in short, was rowdy but hopeful.

At 288 hours, the shaft reached 44 feet, but the men trying to gauge how Floyd was doing only knew his lamp had gone out. Conspiracy theories burgeoned: the Collins’ family was doing it all as a publicity stunt, to get money. The rescuers — Gerald, Skeets Miller, Burdon, and others — had been interrogated by police due to rumors they’d tried to “murder” Floyd Collins.

At hour 360, the newly dug shaft reached its goal: 55-feet. After clearing rubble and shoring up the passage, rescuers were finally able to squirm their way down to Floyd. It was hour 411, February 13th.

They couldn’t see his light, but they did see a gleam. It was Floyd’s gold tooth, glimmering from the darkness as their rescue beams shined on it. Floyd Collins was deceased.

After examining his body, they determined Floyd had expired three days prior — probably around the time his lamp light faded for the last time.

Headlines on February 14, 1925. Photo credit

After reaching the body, rescuers shrouded it. For many years, Floyd’s remains rested in a glass-topped coffin in Crystal Cave for viewing by tourists.

Vandals stole Floyd Collin’s body, however (it was later found in a field, missing a leg), so he was buried inside a chained casket. The National Park Service eventually took over Crystal Cave and it is now closed to the public. In 1989, the Collins family buried Floyd in Flint Ridge Cemetery.