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But the incident galvanized public opinion: Centralia was no longer safe. In 1984 the U.S. Congress appropriated $42 million to evacuate, on a voluntary basis, every last resident. But a few people like Lokitis didn't want to leave.
"This was my grandparents' house," he says. "It will always be home. I can't imagine not being here."
Pennsylvania, however, saw things differently. By 1992 the holdouts were no longer being asked to leave -- they were being told. In the name of public safety, the state declared eminent domain over the whole town. Shortly thereafter, all the houses were condemned. But Lokitis refused to budge and is now a squatter in the house where he grew up.
Lokitis adamantly rejects the idea that living in Centralia is dangerous. Outside the hot zones, he says, the ground is stable. The mine fire has never actually killed anyone, he notes, pointing out that many of his neighbors have lived into their nineties in spite of the reportedly toxic gases. Lokitis says the state would have already kicked him out, along with the other holdouts, except that no decision maker wants to be responsible for dragging people from their homes. "I guess they're waiting for us to die off. They figure the problem will take care of itself."
So Lokitis stays, an unofficial guide to the steady trickle of oddball tourists that comes through, curiosity seekers attracted almost perversely to Centralia's strange and sad history. "There're quite a few curious people," he says. "Most people have never witnessed anything like Centralia -- the heat and smoke rising out of the ground. Sometimes I feel like an exhibit. They're amazed. They usually ask, 'Why did you stay?' My answer is simple: This is home."
Lokitis finds his house in an aerial photograph of Centralia from the '70s, when houses lined his entire street. Today his porch faces a vacant field. "It's kind of strange," he says. "The past 20 years, seeing everything slowly being erased . . . piece by piece."
The way out of town passes Hammie's Hill, Centralia's one hot zone where there are still open, navigable roads. To drive there, one must ignore the warning sign, of course. And through the clouds of white gas appears a minivan that has done just that. It has New Jersey plates -- more tourists who have come to see the town that some say will burn for the next thousand years.
Escape Keys
Although state roads still pass through Centralia's hot zones and it is not illegal to enter them, the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection actively discourages it.From a distance you can still get a good look at the mine fire on Hammie's Hill, which is best viewed early in the morning or on a cool day.
To place the Centralia mine fire in historical context, visit the
