The Condemned Streets of This Pennsylvania Town Have Been Burning Underground Since 1962

Centralia, Pennsylvania

The coal that built Centralia ended up destroying it. When an underground mine fire started here in ’62, no one thought it would still be burning today. Here’s the story about one of the worst environmental disasters in America.

A mismanaged trash fire started it all

In May 1962, Centralia’s fire department set the town landfill on fire to clean it up before Memorial Day – something they’d done before.

But this time, the fire found its way into an exposed coal seam and spread into the massive network of abandoned mines beneath the town.

Despite attempts to put it out, the fire kept growing.

A slow-burning disaster

For the next two decades, residents dealt with increasing problems: carbon monoxide seeping into homes, ground that was hot to touch, and sinkholes that could open without warning.

The near-fatal incident involving a young boy

The crisis peaked in 1981 when 12-year-old Todd Domboski nearly fell into a 150-foot sinkhole that opened up in his grandmother’s yard.

The kid saved himself by grabbing a tree root before his cousin pulled him to safety.

A few stubborn folks remain

Today, the fire still burns across about 400 acres of underground mines.

Most buildings in Centralia have been demolished, leaving only a few streets, some blocks of empty lots, and a handful of occupied homes.

While over 1,000 people once lived here, now just five residents remain – all with special permission to stay in their homes until they die.

The government dropped $127 million to get (almost) everyone out

Uncle Sam doesn’t usually spend $127 million on a town of 1,000 people, but Centralia was special.

Congress approved over $42 million in 1984 for relocation (that’s about $127 million in today’s cash), making this one of America’s priciest relocations ever.

Most residents took the buyout money and moved to nearby towns like Ashland and Mount Carmel.

The post office straight-up deleted the town

In the ultimate “you don’t exist anymore” move, the US Postal Service completely wiped Centralia off their maps in 2002 by killing its ZIP code (17927).

The post office waited until fewer than 10 people were left before pulling the plug.

Mail sent to “Centralia, PA” now bounces back or gets rerouted.

The few remaining residents have to use addresses from neighboring towns instead.

Legally the town still exists, but as far as the postal service is concerned, there’s nothing but empty space where Centralia used to be.

Irish rebels murdered the town’s founder

Before the fire drama, Centralia had another dark chapter involving a secret Irish society called the Molly Maguires. These guys fought against mining companies in the 1860s using some pretty extreme tactics.

In 1868, they murdered town founder Alexander Rea during his carriage ride from nearby Mount Carmel. Three members were eventually caught and hanged in 1878.

The murder likely stemmed from labor disputes, as the group was trying to form unions and improve terrible working conditions throughout Pennsylvania’s coal region.

Pennsylvania’s only geyser exists because of the fire

The underground inferno created something you’d expect to find in Yellowstone, not Pennsylvania—an actual geyser.

The Big Mine Run Geyser formed when heat from the fire pressurized groundwater that rushes into the abandoned mines.

Located in nearby Ashland on private property, engineers now use it to prevent water buildup in the mines. The water gets superheated when it hits the burning coal seams before shooting back up.

It’s Pennsylvania’s only geyser and probably the only one anywhere caused by human error.

One church refuses to give up

Among all the demolished buildings and empty streets, a single church stands its ground.

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church still holds weekly services on its hilltop perch above town.

Built in 1911, it’s the last survivor of what was once five churches. Its secret? Pure luck—it was built on solid bedrock instead of over coal seams.

The famous Graffiti Highway got buried

Centralia’s biggest tourist draw got unceremoniously buried in April 2020.

The abandoned stretch of Route 61, known as Graffiti Highway, was covered with tons of dirt by its private owner during the early pandemic.

Before that, this cracked-up roadway had become an Instagram hotspot covered in colorful artwork from visitors across the country.

The highway had been closed since 1993 due to fire damage, but that didn’t stop people from covering every inch with spray paint.

Road signs pretend the town doesn’t exist

In the final blow to Centralia’s existence, Pennsylvania removed all road signs mentioning the town.

Drive through the area today and you’ll find zero indications that you’re entering Centralia—no “Welcome” signs, no population markers, nothing.

The Department of Transportation deliberately scrubbed it from highway signs in the early 2000s. Even GPS and mapping apps show outdated or incorrect information.

The few remaining street signs within town limits are faded and hidden by overgrowth, creating an eerie feeling that you’ve stumbled into a place that officially doesn’t exist.