ODDS ‘N’ SODS — On top of the world, Part 2

.BBS.J. HUNTER

Jack Zucco, my boss at the Red Rose tungsten mine in mountainous northern British Columbia, was a meticulous leader and task-master who wisely moved me from job to job to make me adaptable to the different requirements at the isolated site.

Thus, in a short span of time in 1942, I went from mine laborer to tramline helper; from tramming mine ore and waste to powder helper in the stopes; from nipping in the drifts and raises to helping the timberman in the square-set sills. Unbeknownst to me, I was learning basic mining skills that would serve me well for the remainder of my career.

More than that, I was working, eating and sleeping with a rugged mixture of Norwegians, Swedes and Irishmen who had come to Canada and survived the Depression; who had worked under similar conditions developing such mines as the Big Missouri, Thompson-Lundmark, Zeballos, Reno, Sullivan and others in the outback of Canada. Such names as Gus Dahlguist, Jim Flannery, Sig Didrickson, Johnny Christianson and John Kendahl were standouts among the men who constituted this motley crew.

One return trip on the tramline was conceded for each six months of work at the mine. At the end of that tenure, the worker was eager for the sights and sounds of hearth and home, or even for the rude hotels that accommodated the transient miner. Seldom did the crew return with any of the savings they had pocketed upon departure. When the miners returned, Jack insisted on a baggage search — no booze was tolerated in the camp.

On one occasion, however, Flannery managed to smuggle a case of over-proof rum into the tramline bucket. That evening all hell broke loose as the rum saturated the crew. Parties broke out everywhere and many battles ensued.

Jack wisely kept out of site and protected his young bride, the sole female in the camp.

In the morning, the damage was assessed — a broken foot, several broken hands, smashed bunks and a pilfered cookery. In addition, someone had overturned Mrs. Zucco’s outhouse and tossed it down the mountain. Jack was rightfully enraged and insisted that Jim and Russel Cummings rebuild the structure on their own time.

Sporting beautifully black eyes, the errant miners built a superlative replacement outhouse, painting it inside and out. It was a suitable and lasting monument to the evening’s escapades.

With these characters motivating me, time passed quickly on the mountaintop and instilled in me a lasting love and thirst for the mining scene.

— The author, a retired mining engineer, resides in Vancouver, B.C.