Few people believed Modesto Varischetti would be found alive even if divers could reach the tiny pocket of air where he had been trapped, deep in the Bonnievale mine, near Coolgardie, a century ago.
When he emerged nine days after the mine was flooded, it was hailed as one of the most remarkable underground rescues in mining history.
It was carried out with only the modest technology of the 19th century, a far cry from the sophisticated equipment available in the recent Australian rescue of two men in the Beaconsfield mine in Tasmania.
The courage of two divers, and the speed with which the diving equipment was sent from Perth to what was then a very isolated spot, were major factors in Varischetti’s survival.
The setting was very different from Beaconsfield. Picture a small community of limited resources, a primitive railway network and diving equipment designed for deep-sea operations.
Yet a small group of officials in Perth quickly assembled all of this, found two divers, and within hours all were on a special train that made a trip in record time to Coolgardie.
Two days after the accident, divers and equipment were at the minesite, where they were joined by another, Frank Hughes, who had been working as a miner on the Golden Mile.
Four days after the flood, Hughes reached Varischetti, 300m below the surface (deep for those days in mining) and under 30m of water. He had traversed 80m of flooded tunnel to reach the air pocket.
It had been a hazardous, exhausting journey, with his air hose constantly threatened with damage from the mine debris, and he was exhausted, struggling through knee deep mud dragging a guideline.
Finally, on his fifth descent that day, he reached the frightened miner, who had been in complete darkness for two days and without food for three.
Hughes delivered food, candles, matches and a torch.
Varischetti was marooned on a tiny wooden platform in an air pocket only 7m high, sleeping only fitfully, constantly afraid that he would slip into the water.
Hughes and a second diver, Tom Hearn, ferried food and water into him as the water level was reduced, and on the ninth day the rescue began. Nine days and two hours after the flood, he was carried to the surface.
The news of his rescue went around the world (albeit a little slower than it did at Beaconsfield) by telegraph. But celebrity meant something different in 1907, with no media or book contracts. The divers shared a few hundred pounds raised by public subscription or from the mining industry.
After a brief interlude of fame, Varischetti returned to work in the mines where the flooding had occurred but his health had been affected and he died in 1920.
The small group of officials in Perth who had organised the rescue train received little recognition but Tom Austen, author of the definitive book about the rescue, The Entombed Miner, said they all knew each other well, and this may have helped brush aside the red tape that might have otherwise hampered the effort.
It also demonstrated – as did the recent one at Beaconsfield – how quickly the mining community can organise a rescue, how united it becomes at these times.
To commemorate the centenary of the Varischetti rescue, the Shire of Coolgardie recently hosted celebrations including a relaunch of Coolgardie’s Heritage Collection at the Goldfields Exhibition Building, where the collection has undergone extensive upgrading.
Visitors toured some of the newly restored historic buildings and watched the Surface Mine Rescue Championships, and there were mining displays and a celebration dinner with entertainment including a theatre-style performance depicting events from the rescue.
The celebrations were attended by a delegation from Gorno, Italy, Varischetti’s home town, his descendants and those of the rescue team.

