ODDS’N’SODS — The necessity of thinking fast when

Hunting for a job in the mines in the “Hungry ’30s” required perseverance, determination and precocity, as well as a forced bravado born of necessity. It was no task for the faint of heart, when there were 20 or 30 men competing for every job opening.

I heard of one young fellow who had walked long, weary miles to a prospect which was reported to have started development work. He was looking for a job underground.

“We want only experienced miners here,” said the manager. “What experience do you have?”

“Oh, I worked at the Beaver (owned by Kirkland Lake Gold) for two years,” said the lad.

The manager, somewhat skeptical, then asked, “Tell me, what kind of lamps do they use underground at the Beaver?”

“Couldn’t tell ya,” said the hopeful, “I worked steady day shift.” In a somewhat similar circumstance, an unemployed miner, looking for a job, called at a new mine. He located the manager in a little shack which passed for a machine shop. After the miner exuberantly related his experience, and at some length, the manager, somewhat dubious, pointed to a Leyner drill lying on the floor and asked, “Can you use one of those things?” “Say,” said the miner, “I could sew buttons on your shirt with one of those things.”

Getting a job was one thing, but it required only a slight misdemeanor or careless act to get you your walking papers.

John Conlon, an old miner whose experience dated back to the Cobalt boom, was a captain at the Lake Shore mine. As he walked along a drift on his rounds, he heard a rock car approaching but saw no light. The track was on a slight decline, to facilitate tramming. John got off the track as the car approached. It passed him, promptly jumped the rails and flipped upside down. The four wheels continued to rotate slowly.

A miner came bounding along in pursuit of the car. John roared at him, “Is that your rock car?”

The miner surveyed the mess for a moment and said, “Well, I did have a rock car, but mine had the wheels on the bottom.”

John cursed and walked away. He probably grinned to himself when he got out of sight.

— George Wallace is a retired miner in Cobden, Ont.