Odds ‘n’ Sods — An’ a one-a, an’ a two-a

Life in remote mining camps was often enriched with special comradeship. The people who lived and toiled there tended to foster close-knit relationships, and were often inspired by each other’s hobbies and talents.

Sam Nealey was at the Granduc mine near Stewart, B.C., during its development during the 1960s. As surface foreman, he was involved in road maintenance, plant service and supply, building maintenance, construction, airport services, ore and waste disposal at surface, and sundry other tasks connected with a major underground mine in a remote location.

His trademark was an engaging smile and merry brown eyes, sense of humor and soft chuckle in every encounter. Nealey was always available, no matter how slight or severe the problem might be.

Our rooms were adjacent in the bunkhouse, so we saw a lot of each other — both on and off the job. We usually awoke early and had breakfast together before proceeding to our work stations.

We did enjoy the rare evening free of work responsibilities, and occasionally met in Nealey’s room for a few games of crib and an accompanying beer.

As the evening wore on and we prepared for our night’s rest, Nealey would always ask if I cared to hear a few tunes on the saxophone, an instrument of which he was very fond. Out would come the instrument, with no further encouragement required, and Nealey would transport us into a world of musical delights.

One of the hit tunes at the time was “Stranger on the Shore” — a piece for which the saxophone was especially well-suited. When the final notes cascaded through the open door and into the hallway, there would follow applause from several of the adjoining rooms. Then, with a shy nervous smile, Nealey would clean the instrument and return punctually to his duties.

On one such occasion, there was a severe winter storm and Nealey had to re-route his flight passage through a different air service in the interior of the province. He suffered a heart attack in the air terminal and was gone before anyone realized his predicament. We were shocked and saddened at Nealey’s demise. It was some time before we could adapt ourselves to the new circumstances and the loss of such a genial comrade.

To this very day, whenever I hear “Stranger on the Shore,” I am transported back to his room in that isolated camp at the Granduc mine.

— The author, a frequent contributor, is a retired mining engineer living in Vancouver, B.C..