Introduction

It is not difficult to find self-made men in America.  Locating self-made men who have retained their principles while making themselves is more difficult.

Such a man is Phil Francis, as he is lovingly called by thousands who know him and his work in Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee.  He climbed from a penniless orphan boy in the anthracite mines of Pennsylvania to a coal operator in the above states, fighting and clawing his way every step of the road, but never losing the consideration and fairness that restrained him from taking advantage of an adversary or claiming more than a modest share of any returns from an accomplishment.  He has, therefore, left a benediction in his wake, and today dwells midst the scenes of his labors, universally respected and beloved.

Philip Francis belongs to that group of vanishing Americans who possesses ruggedness of purpose and character, who have not been softened by the modern conveniences of living or commerce, and whose feet are firmly planted upon granite principles which no expediency can persuade them to forsake.  Philip Francis was forceful enough to batter down every obstacle that blocked the way to sane, comfortable living for his family, yet soft enough to relish the odor of the most delicate perfume; hard enough to drive the pick's point into anthracite coal faster than any man on the job, yet soft enough to touch the keys of a piano with the gentleness of a maid; hard enough to conquer with his fists the frontier ruffians of another day, yet soft enough to speak of the love of God to men of this day; hard enough to endure the elements in the mountains for days while prospecting or hewing timbers, yet soft enough to enjoy the flowers around his home; hard enough to rush to the conflict with a zeal clearly displayed in his flashing, black eyes, yet soft enough to admonish all to "Keep Serene" if they would get the most out of life.

Now past ninety years of age, Philip Francis is still vigorously going forward.  His hand is to the plow, and he is not looking back except to recount, as in the following pages, some of his experiences along the way.  Perhaps because he spent seventy years underground is the reason why he made a hobby of studying the heavens and their plants.  Perhaps this study is the reason why he has preserved himself while making himself.  Maybe this looking up has lifted him as he has lifted all who came in contact with him.  As one of these, I commend this book to its readers and vouch for the character and accomplishments of the man of the story.

T. RUSS HILL
Nov. 10, 1943