The clang of hammers and the low hum of heavy machinery echo through the walls of the Silver King Coalition Mine, once the largest producer of silver in the country and now a testament to Park City’s history beside one of its busiest ski lifts.
But this isn’t a scene from the 19th-century silver rush. It’s 2025, and the crew working atop the crumbling timbers and rusted steel of the Silver King complex at Park City Mountain isn’t digging for ore. They’re rebuilding history.
Behind it all is the Martinez family, whose connection to the Silver King Coalition Mine stretches from the 1800s to today.
Clark Martinez is a fourth-generation miner born and raised in Park City. His father, Richard Martinez, worked for decades underground in the Ontario, Daly West and Silver King Coalition mines. His grandfather and great-grandfather before him did, too.
Now, six generations of Martinezes have come together in the Silver King Coalition Mine as Clark works with his son and grandson to help restore the place that holds their family’s legacy.
Known to locals as the Ol’ Miner, Clark’s father, Richard, organized — and often dominated — the annual Miners Day mucking and drilling competitions. Richard won the jackleg drilling contest 12 times over 23 years between 1957 and 1979, with second and third place mentions five more times in those years, and that’s just what The Park Record has on file.
The Ol’ Miner died in 2017, and his memory survives in a life-sized bronze statue, revealed on Miners Day in 2021 with his hard hat on and drill in hand at the Treasure Hill Trailhead on Lowell Avenue. It’s a nod to Park City’s legacy and his years underground as well as his hand in shaping the community.
“My dad and his generation were the last to actually spend their whole lives working this mine. He loved Park City. He loved the mines,” said Clark. “In his older age, he’d get emotional about it, working in the mines. It was embarrassing to me then. But now that I’m older, your emotions work hard on you. I get it.”
The Silver King Coalition Mine was incorporated in 1892 and quickly became one of the biggest employers in Park City, with miles of tunnels stretching beneath the Wasatch Mountains and connecting to other nearby mines like the Ontario and Daly West. The site on the surface included a large hoist house, compressor systems, and support buildings that kept the mine running.
By 1953, the price of silver dropped, and with operating costs mounting, the mine shut down.
“There is still plenty of silver and other metals left underground in the Park City mines but nobody is going to mine them because of adverse economics, and because the surface real estate value is more of a sure thing than risking investing in another mining operation,” said Brian Buck, the project manager at Friends of Ski Mountain Mining History.
The buildings have gone mostly unused ever since, slowly falling apart under the decades of snow, weather and vandalism.
Clark graduated from high school in 1976, the same year he got his start underground, where he worked in the Ontario Mine before it shut down in 1978.
In 1985, Clark started his own business focused on closing abandoned mines across the state. In the four decades since, he’s closed more than 7,000 of them. The work usually involves capping off old mine shafts and sealing off hazardous areas, filling thousand-foot holes with foam and concrete. Because many of these mines house endangered bats, the work stops during their gestation period in the summer. That downtime gives Clark a chance to return to Park City and focus on restoring the mines closer to home.
In 2015, his company was brought in to help fill the Daly West shaft after the headframe collapsed. Since then, Clark and his crew, including his son Derek and grandson Dominick, have spent summers stabilizing these Park City historic mine buildings and make them safe for access on guided tours. The past two summers brought them back to the Silver King.
“It’s kind of like I was born to do this,” Clark said. “I’ve got papers from my great-grandfather from when he got laid off from the Silver King. It’s kind of surreal thinking he worked right here on this same floor.”
For Clark, maintaining these buildings isn’t just a way to stay in the family business. It’s about preserving the legacy of his father, his grandfather and the generations before them.
“I’m just glad my grandson could know this place. I’m happy that Friends of Ski Mountain Mining History is here. Because thanks to them, we’re saving this. Which, hopefully, for Dominick’s grandson, maybe this will still be here,” said Clark.
Dominick has worked for his grandfather’s company since he graduated from high school four years ago. For him, it’s not just about family tradition, though that’s certainly part of it. He enjoys being out in the field, digging into the past and uncovering the odd pieces of history left behind.
“I grew up seeing a lot of old mining stuff all around the house, all the old photos, the stories,” said Dominick. “I definitely have a lot of moments where it’s weird to think about how many generations it goes back here, or when I’m working and I sit and think about how over 100 years ago, someone was here putting up this wall.”
From digging up old tobacco cans to finding clock-in sheets from miners in the 1940s, the work gives Dominick a chance to uncover pieces of the past while shaping what remains of it.
“I have really loved working for my grandfather. I like all the old structures. I like the random stuff that’s been left here,” he said. “Digging in a place that’s this old can reveal some impressive history, even beyond the structures themselves.”
Restoration at the Silver King Coalition Mine began in 2021, led by the nonprofit Friends of Ski Mountain Mining History, which for the past four years has been fundraising and overseeing efforts to stabilize the building. Early phases focused on clearing out hazardous materials, including asbestos and deteriorating pipes and sealing off access to unsafe areas. With a safer, maintained interior, the Park City Museum will soon lead guided tours through the building.
Clark’s crew filled in the main shaft, a 1,300-foot vertical drop that had been loosely backfilled decades ago.
After part of the roof collapsed during the record-breaking snowfall of the 2022-23 season, the focus shifted to stabilizing the hoist house. The crew replaced damaged beams with new steel supports and laid down a solid steel roof deck.
This summer, they’re covering the reinforcements with the old corrugated metal to match the original look. Inside, they’ve been clearing out over 1,400 broken window panes and replacing rotted wood floors for safety.
The years-long Silver King project is almost finished, but the Martinezes’ work will not be done. They will move on to restore the Thaynes Mine complex, after which Clark just might finally retire and pass his company to the next generation.