Hall of Fame recognizes mining’s unique characters

Mining is also a community of people, widely different, but each with a common dream — to find a elephant.

No other industry, except possibly oil and gas requires the blend of human qualities needed in mining. Mines don’t get found without risk-taking and often considerable hardship and fortitude (mixed with a bit of luck here and there). They don’t get developed without money, know-how and large quantities of sheer, raw, physical effort. They don’t make money without good management, and today, a lot of technical ingenuity. All this means that the mining community, and I would expect a Mining Hall of Fame, brings together prospectors, financiers, geologists, tradesmen, and scientists in a unique blend of talents.

The players who have created our industry came from many different backgrounds drawn by a shared love of adventure and a certain amount, n o doubt, of straight greed. One of the lures of mining is that you can start off with $10 in your pocket and end up wealthy beyond your dreams. Sometimes, like Murray Pezim, you make a fortune and lose it. But then, as he did, you go and make another. It seems that quite a number of the early pioneers in the mining business were immigrants. Maybe the Canadians were too busy speculating on the sky-rocketing property prices in and around Fort York. Typical of this early group was Sam Ritchie, a carriage maker from Akron Ohio. He originally came to Hastings County in 1881 looking for a supply of hickory for his carriages, but stayed around long enough to buy up the local iron mine at Coe Hill, build the Central Ontario Railroad, and ship several thousand tons of ore to Cleveland. Unfortunately the sulphur content of the iron was too high and a recession came along in 1883.

However, Ritchie had been bitten by the mining bug, and hearing of some interesting developments around a small railroad halt called Sudbury, he headed up north. There he bought up some quite large parcels of land, formed the Canadian Copper Company, and by the end of 1886 had the Copper Cliff, Stobie and Evans mines in production. Two years later a smelter was built.

Ritchie soon received bad news; his ore did not contain 7 percent copper as originally thought, but only four and a half percent. The remainder was a worthless by-product that nobody wanted, a hard, pinkish grey material for which there was no apparent use — nickel. It was so bad that his customers in Wales would only pay him the equivalent of one dollar per ton for his ore.

But, like his mining brethren, Ritchie was no quitter. He now set out to convince the world that it needed nickel, and so helped create the first markets for nickel- steel armour plate. Unfortunately, Ritchie’s ambitions for a vast integrated nickel-steel empire were ultimately his downfall, as his partners, alarmed by his grandiose visions, voted him off the board in 1891.

Ritchie seems to me to demonstrate the qualities of salesmanship necessary to convince investors to part with their money — essential for success in this business — and a quality which I greatly admire.

Another American who had a great impact on the industry was of course Harry Oakes. It is said of Oakes that he arrived in Kirkland Lake only because a conductor threw him off the train there because he was broke and could not pay his fare, that he was directed to the area by a friendly Chinese Restaurant owner and that he found one of the richest gold mines in Canada by accident. The story has become part of mining legend of how, in January 1912, Oakes and his partners, the Tough brothers, re-staked the claims on the property which was to become the Lakeshore Mine on a moonlit night with four inches of new snow on the ground and the temperature at fifty degrees below zero.

The fact that it took Oakes a further 17 years before he had a mill on the property is also important, because it marked one of the very few times that a prospector has been able to stake the claims, raise financing, and develop a mine to production without losing control of it.

Oakes demonstrates those characteristics of perseverance and toughness that are necessary to bring a mine into production.

Of course, many prospectors weren’t interested in building mines. Their first love was the great Canadian wilderness and their greatest pleasure was in finding a new deposit. Gilbert LaBine, recognized at Expo ’67 as Prospector of the Century, founded the uranium industry through his hazardous and tough journeys up to Great Bear Lake. Bill Dennis, who staked the original Long Lac claims, went snow-blind on his way to the Pickle Lake staking rush and walked in tethered to a dog sled. You’ve all heard of the McIntyre Mine in Timmins, but Sandy McIntyre who found the deposit first sold a half interest in the property for $5,000, a quarter interest for $300 and a one-eighth interest for $25 (that’s not $ millions) — his greatest love apparently, was scotch. McIntyre must have been quite an entrepreneur, but maybe wasn’t too good at making deals.

One of McIntyre’s companions who fared somewhat better was Benny Hollinger, a tool sharpener at Copper Cliff before heading to Cobalt in 1905. On his way to the Porcupine he persuaded a bartender named John McMahon to grub-stake him to the tune of $45 (McMahon being risk averse immediately sold a half share for $55, thus making an immediate 120% profit). Hollinger and his partner staked the claims which eventually became the Hollinger Mine, and by selling out to Noah Timmins, the former proprietor of the Mattawa General Store, set in motion the creation of yet another Canadian mining dynasty.

Of course, a number of the great names in the industry were more at home on Wall Street and Bay Street than Main Street. Joseph Hirschorn was an immigrant to the U.S. who made a fortune (in those days) of $167,000 by the time he was 18 on the Curb Exchange in New York. Coming to Canada in 1932 he was the inventor of the backdoor staking bee which has been in continuous use since that time. In more recent times, the founder of the Agnico-Eagle Group, Paul Penna has cut a broad financial swathe from golf to gold.

These individuals display the type of financial ingenuity necessary to bring mines into production.

The industry has also attracted its share of inventors. Thomas Edison staked claims in Sudbury while looking for nickel to use in a battery he was developing. As far as I know, this was the first use of the `dip needle’ to locate an orebody. Unfortunately, because of covering sand, Edison stopped his shaft a few feet short of what became the Falconbridge Mine.

Edison demonstrates the type of technical genius that exploration and mine development require.

The industry has not been without outstanding women. Viola MacMillan has made a career out of prospecting and mine development and is the only woman to have been president of the Prospectors and Developers Association.

Of course, many other names come to mind — Pierre Beauchemin, the great mine developer in northwestern Quebec, — Dr. Aaro Aho and the Keevils who have done so much to develop the mining industry in northwestern and western Canada, — Jerry Byrne, M.J. Boylen, Franc Joubin, J.Y. Murdoch, Karl Springer, — the list goes on and on.

In a business with so many great names, it’s hard to select one outstanding individual, but, and excuse my bias, my first nomination for a Mining Hall of Fame would have to be Thayer Lindsley. This one man combined all of the qualities necessary for success in this business — technical genius, vision, perseverance, salesmanship, and the willingness to take risks.

Born in Japan in 1882, brought up in Boston and educated at Harvard, Lindsley worked as a geologist for McIntyre Porcupine before striking out on h
is own with a grubstake of $30,000. His associates say of his geological skills that he could `see into the rock’. Lindsley went on to found Ventures in 1928, clearly advising investors that the company was a highly speculative proposition. Almost immediately, Lindsley acquired the claims that Edison had staked on the Falconbridge property.

By the end of the same year Falconbridge Nickel was in existence. Shortly afterwards, Lindsley realized that refining capacity would be essential and was able to acquire the nickel refinery at Kristiansand in Norway. This move was the springboard for the company’s success in the business.

Lindsley was a great organization builder, capable of motivating his people to achieve great things. Over his career, which lasted until his death in 1976 at the age of 94, Lindsley had a hand in many new mines including Beattie, Canadian Malartic, Coniarum, Frobisher, Giant Yellowknife, Hoyle, La Luz, Lake Dufault, Opemiska, Sherritt Gordon, United Keno Hill, and Wesfrob. I think it is only fitting that the Lindsley Mine will most likely be Falconbridge’s next major mine.

The personalities that I have described are part of what makes this industry great, and what makes it so very different from many others. Personal courage, vision, perseverance, a drive to challenge the unknown, and a willingness to take risks are the common denominators here.

I think the rewards in this industry are still high if you’re prepared to take risk. There are still lots of good deposits to be found in Canada, they’re just a little harder to find than 100 years ago.

My bet is that there’ll be no shortage of candidates for the Hall of Fame when 2089 rolls around.

Finally, I don’t want to leave you without mentioning the many people, 120,000 at the last count, who now work in exploration and our mines, smelters and refineries. Their names may enter the Hall of Fame rarely, but without their effort and commitment to a job that is often dirty and at times hazardous, we would not be where we are today.004 By Bill James, president and chief executive officer of Falconbridge Ltd. This is from the text of a speech prepared for the Canadian Mining Hall of Fame inaugural dinner earlier this year.

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