ODDS’N’SODS — A quiet giant among mining men

One of the great privileges of my life was to have known the late Randolph Pope Mills. It is not likely the mining business will ever see the likes of him again. He was, I believe, the greatest promoter and financier of junior mining issues this country ever had.

In the 1950s and 1960s, brokers referred to Mills as “Mr. Chibougamau” because he was the main financier and promoter behind several early, successful ventures which led to ore deposits in that Quebec camp. To his friends and associates, he was “Randy.” I always called him “RPM” (as in revolutions per minute) because of his great drive and his ability to jump on good ideas and get financing for them right away. He was a dynamo. In Nova Scotia, RPM was the instigator and driving force behind a celestite mine at Enon and a barite mine at Brookfield. He was also the financier behind the early explorations that led to the Gays River lead-zinc mine; and just before he went to “promoter-prospectors’ heaven” in 1976, he backed exploration which sparked off the tin camp near Yarmouth.

He was a promoter without equal because he had the looks and panache of an Errol Flynn or Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. He was very articulate and a terrific writer, thanks to his having been educated in private schools in Virginia, and his experience as a financial journalist for The New York Times in the 1930s and 1940s.

The steady stream of people, from all aspects of mining, who went in and out of RPM’s office in Montreal used to amaze me. Many of them were zany and proposed crazy ideas and propositions, yet he would always hear them out. I could never fathom why such a busy and successful man would sit for such long sessions and listen to so many wild ideas. I asked him once why he did this, and all he said was: “You never know who may come in, and if you don’t listen to them, you might miss out on a good idea.”

RPM was not only intelligent, enthusiastic and successful; he was above-board, generous and honest. He had a great sense of humor and was quiet and modest. Never one to self-promote, he nevertheless promoted the attributes of those with whom he was associated. I never knew the guy to belittle or chew anyone out.

The only time I ever saw him get a bit ugly was when, at a directors’ meeting, someone suggested he was not tough enough with respect to the running of a company. He slowly locked eyes with each of us and quietly muttered: “I hired you people to be the tough guys; if you aren’t going to be, then I will be . . . with you.” We wilted. He grinned.

RPM was a great teacher to younger folk associated with him, but his tactics could be hard on the nerves. In 1972, we had a good base metal prospect in Nova Scotia, so he decided I should try my hand at promoting it. He told me to go to Toronto and strike up a deal with two buddies of his, Joe Rankin and Bob Segworth. I did so, but it took hours of gut-wrenching haggling with these two guys, who were as tough as nails.

I got back to Montreal worn out and puzzled. I confronted RPM and asked why we were frigging around with a junior with little monies when we could be promoting the property to a major. Before he could answer, I suggested he had stock in his friend’s firm. He smiled, shook his head no and quietly said: “Kid, if you can make a deal with those guys, then in the future you won’t mind meeting the devil to sell him the idea of a deposit in his own backyard.” The Canadian mining industry, especially in Quebec and Nova Scotia, owes a lot to RPM. He created many jobs and new wealth.

Here was a guy who had all the “right stuff,” but no matter how tough the going got or how successful things became, he was always tolerant of others, loyal and humble. RPM was truly a “quiet giant” among mining men. — Avard Hudgins lives in Truro, N.S.