Odds ‘n’ sods: A tribute to my father

The Pronto mine proved to be an integral and necessary chapter of the Elliot Lake story. Because of the mine’s relatively small-sized orebody and location, it was quickly overshadowed by the larger and more prolific mines in the Elliot Lake and Quirke Lake area.

For me, the mine and its staff were particularly special because my father, Eric Holt, was hired as the mine’s chief engineer. For business and pleasure, I was up there quite often, got to know all of the staff, and had a great time.

My father, Eric, was an Irish orphan who arrived at Union Station in Toronto during the early part of the 20th century. He was only five years old and his brother, seven, and they waited there for a couple of days until an uncle arrived to take them to his farm in Hamilton, Ont. It was all work — no play and no family life. Both boys eventually ran away, joined the Canadian Expeditionary Force and fought in the First World War. At only 17 years of age, my father fought in France near the front lines for most of the war. At one point, he was blinded by mustard gas and hospitalized. Later, he caught pneumonia and happened to be placed in an isolation tent with a professor from Queen’s University. The professor was able to teach my father enough that he was able to pass his senior matriculation exams after returning home at the war’s end. This enabled him to enroll at Queen’s that fall, penniless, with one suit on his back.

I remember him as a highly ethical, honourable and decent human being, a constant reader, with a huge dictionary always at hand. He was that rare species of engineer who carried his university training with him throughout his career. During the early 1950s, he was a close second choice for heading up the mining engineering department at Queen’s. It was the disappointment of a lifetime for man who loved to teach.

My father worked for James and Buffam, probably the most outstanding consulting team in Canadian history. His association with the firm brought him to the Toburn mine in Kirkland Lake in the early ’30s. Bill James, Sr., was consulting for American Smelting & Refining, which was taking over the mine following the bankruptcy of the original Toburn owners. He became mine manager, and after Toburn closed, in the early 1950s, Asarco retained two staff members — Steve Ogryzlo, who discovered major mines in Quebec, was the other.

Later he worked on the engineering of Asarco’s huge Toquepala open-pit copper mine in southern Peru, which was about 12,000 ft. above sea level. About a year after he returned to Canada, he was diagnosed with a serious heart problem, possibly because of the high altitude; at that time, severe heart problems meant your days were numbered.

Paul Young, who had worked for my father at Toburn and later became chief engineer for the Technical Mine Consultants, had been called on to manage the Pronto mine. Young and his family left Toburn just after the war and formed a Toronto-based firm called Young, Young & Gross. This was the key group that launched the Beaverlodge exploration campaign for uranium in Saskatchewan. Young’s intelligence, quiet strength, stature and reliability were the recipe for a first-class mine manager. He finished his career working in Elliot Lake for Rio Algom.

I knew Young well, and he asked me if my father might be willing to join his staff. It would prove to be the ideal job for him.

My father loved teaching and children. He was a member of the school and library boards in Kirkland for as long as I can remember, and also served on the the advisory board of the Haileybury School of Mines.

The Pronto mine had its own public school, close to the staff homes. Single-handedly, my father acted as the school board, principal, part-time teacher and janitor. The Pied Piper of Pronto, he was much-loved by the students, who would often follow him home after work. A young engineer once asked him how he accounted for his strong affinity with children. He answered: “Frankly, I prefer them to most adults a lot of the time.” Shortly after his death in 1965, all the school children wrote letters to our family, which I could never read without shedding a few tears.

What happened at Pronto affected the progress of all the major mines in the Elliot Lake-Blind River area. This was particularly true with regard to the metallurgy. Russ Way’s engineering firm was heavily involved; Russ, who headed up the metallurgical work, had brought the ion exchange process to the Eldorado mines in Beaverlodge. My father’s contribution was to change the original mining method to one better adapted to Pronto’s unique conditions.

Although they differed in many ways, Stan Holmes, the chief geologist, got along well with my father. With an age difference of almost 30 years, it was almost like a father-son relationship. Both he and my father were pranksters at heart.

Holmes, who unfortunately passed away a few years ago, was a true character with an exciting personality. He was usually flamboyant and controversial but nonetheless genuine. During the first summer of operation at Pronto, visitors were allowed inside the gates once a week for a tour. Holmes was the colourful master of ceremonies and, along with my father, made a tour of Pronto sound like a trip to Mars.

He was the best explorationist salesman in the business. He made quick career changes, moving from chief geologist at Pronto to the same position at Consolidated Denison Mines. From there, he was promoted to that company’s vice-president of exploration and moved to Toronto. He was also bought Denison shares early in the game, so he didn’t suffer financially. Along the way, he was hired and fired by Stephen Roman at least twice.

— The preceding is the last in a series of articles about the pioneers and unsung heroes of the Elliott Lake mining camp. The author, a professional engineer, resides in Barrie, Ont.