Luncheons for shareholders recall more prosperous times

Over my many years associated with this paper, one gets to attend quite a few mining functions — official openings, receptions, dinners, show-and- tell gatherings and fish derbies. By and large these are pleasant affairs. Just the other day, I received an invitation that I’m especially looking forward to. It’s to attend the third annual induction banquet of the U.S.A.’s National Mining Hall of Fame as a head table guest. Billed as a gala affair at which 25 of that country’s legendary mining greats will be enshrined, it is being held in New Orleans, La. I have never been to this city, but understand it boasts excellent cuisine and other comparable attractions.

Locally, the tragic financial bind that Denison Mines currently finds itself in reminds me of the festive annual Christmas dinner parties the late Stephen Roman used to throw at Toronto’s Royal York Hotel. These were gala — everything first class.

In addition to a who’s who of the mining industry, Toronto’s financial district was always well represented, including a noticeable smattering of bankers in their pin-striped suits. And invariably, Roman’s close friend former Ontario premier Bill Davis who would regale the big gathering with his rapid fire, light hearted, off-the-cuff remarks. And one might expect to see Ontario’s lieutenant governor making the rounds with his nattily attired aide-de-camp.

And there would be dancing to the tune of Frank Boggart’s Granite Club orchestra, for Steve always invited the young ladies from his head office staff as well as a bevy of female employees from his big Elliot Lake uranium mine flown in for that occasion.

Although not on quite the same scale, he would also sport some pretty lavish luncheons to which everyone attending the Denison annual meeting would be invited. On one occasion, I recall two sweet little old biddies at the table where I was sitting returning to the luxurious buffet with “doggie bags” which they crammed with shrimp and lobster.

I well recall another luncheon put on by a junior company that likewise ran into financial difficulties. This was in the heyday of Silver-Miller Mines, which invited 150 out-of-town guests to Cobalt, Ont., to celebrate the opening of a small mill for the treatment of cobalt ores.

To give you a little background, this was in 1952 when the company was prospering, thanks to a very high-grade silver vein that Harry Miller, manager and vice-president, had discovered. The previous year its tiny silver mill turned out close to two million ounces, made a profit of over $1 million and paid 40 cents in dividends. Its shares, listed on The Toronto Stock Exchange, were trading in the $2 range.

After the opening ceremonies, guests were bussed to the nearby Haileybury Hotel, which had a lovely dining room overlooking Lake Temiskaming. Copies of the company’s annual report, which hadn’t yet been mailed out, were placed at each sitting. But just prior to lunch, President John Tovell showed me a copy and asked for my comment.

“It’s certainly a nice-looking report — lots of color pictures,” I told him. “But I’m not too sure shareholders will be all that elated with the bottom line.” For earnings were way down, as was the cash position. That seemed to shake him, for he promptly went around to each table and retrieved all of them.

Not surprisingly, the stock did break sharply when that report was mailed. Indeed that was only the beginning of the company’s troubles. Tovell was forced to resign the following month, but not before declaring a further 10 cents dividend for which the company did not have the necessary funds.

In the report’s fine print, it was disclosed that an advance cash commission of $215,000 had been paid out on a secretive deal to sell cobalt to a U.S. government agency, with further substantial payments called for. No metal was ever delivered against that contract.