THE death-knell of the once mighty Durham coalfield was delivered in a single crushing announcement ten years ago this week.

King Coal reigned supreme, fuelling the heavy industry of the North-East and beyond for nearly two centuries from the early years of the Industrial Revolution onwards.

Virtually every village within the old county boundary of Durham had mining links, many only existing because they lay above rich seams of coal, dubbed the black diamond.

About 200,000 people were employed in the industry in the North-East early in the 20th Century and even on privatisation after the Second World War 100,000 people's livelihoods were dependant on coal.

Economic reasons forced the closure of many collieries, particularly those with narrower seams, in the west of the county's pits, in the decades after privatisation in 1947.

Following the confrontational national disputes of the 1970s and 80s, played out against a backdrop of continuous mine closures, only a handful of "super pits" survived down the coastal fringe as the 90s approached.

Just months after the return of John Major's Conservative Government, Board of Trade president Michael Heseltine made the fateful announcement in October 1992.

As part of a national package of 31 pit closures and 31,000 job losses, the final four collieries in the Durham coalfield were to be axed, consigning the last 4,500 miners to the dole queue.

Easington, Vane Tempest at Seaham and Westoe at South Shields were rapidly wound down, and Wearmouth at Sunderland lingered on over the following year until the plug was also pulled, despite recent large-scale investment.

Alan Cummings, miners' lodge secretary at Easington from 1976 to the day it closed, still reflects bitterly at the political decision to close the pits.

What particularly grieves the former colliery communities of east Durham ten years later is that many of the axed pits were profitable.

Alan said that, in its final few years, the men at Easington were asked to "jump through hoops", changing shift and production patterns to make the pit even more profitable.

Easington showed a £2m profit in its last year, but the efforts of the miners was in vain.

"People have to understand that the coal mining industry, and in particular the Durham coalfield, was making money.

"We were the most productive pits in Europe.

"Yet, we had to bring down costs all the time. We bent over backwards because we had to do it, otherwise there was no job.

"But, at the same time, British Coal kept moving the goal posts. I reckon Easington could have gone on for at least another ten to 15 years."

When George Robson, the son and grandson of Boldon miners, arrived as an office boy at NUM headquarters at Redhill, Durham, in 1965, the union served 58,000 miners at 70 functioning lodges.

Over the following 28 years he rose to the role of finance officer, but by the time he retired on health grounds in 1993, the union was all-but dealing with ex-miners.

George is convinced politics was behind the rapid demise of the coalfield.

"In my early days it was exhaustion which led to pits, particularly in the west of the county, closing. But the seams were much wider, albeit at deeper levels, on the coast.

There were highly-mechanised pits with resources of coal out under the sea.

"It might sound outrageous to anyone out of the industry, but there was a political decision to get rid of what was considered a thorn in the Tory flesh, the NUM, and in many ways it was a punishment. After the announcement in October 1992 there was a widespread campaign against the closures, which attracted support in surprising areas even in the south.

"But the die was cast and the NUM was not flavour of the month with the Government, despite the groundswell of support."

George is still involved in organising the Durham Miners Gala, which has risen in popularity in recent years, as colliery communities revive their interest in their mining heritage.