ODDS’N’SODS — High-stakes poker games one cure for cabin

The isolation of many mining camps can affect workers in various ways. Over the years, and at numerous operations, I have observed that the poker game is most likely to occupy idle miners.

At times, the game was casual; more often, it proved excruciating, dragging on around the clock, sometimes seven days a week.

I especially recall one Swede Williams, a notorious “drifter” who once worked at the Emerald mine, near Yellowknife Bay, N.W.T. The fact that Swede was an excellent miner who never missed a shift kept him on the payroll, until he became “stakey” and moved on. He never appeared to sleep — he would come off shift to play poker, then return to work from the table. One could never determine his winnings or losses as he kept only a meager sum on the table. Swede was welcome in every game and much respected by the crew. A jovial player, he could be depended upon to donate his paycheque, and regularly. At the old Pioneer gold mine, north of Whistler, B.C., the shaft crew formed the core of the poker crowd — such fellows as Charlie Guillarde, John Millette, Joe MacIsaac, Les Lubeneau and, on occasion, camp doctor Peter Bell-Irving. A 10 cents limit was set in most games (possibly under company pressure) so that no one suffered great losses. The poker quarters formed a key section of the community hall.

Those could be called friendly games.

The Granduc mine, also in B.C., provided a different scenario. There, the game could be war-like, involving high stakes and higher adrenalin. This was a no-limit affair, with the pot in the centre of the table often holding thousands of dollars.

One evening, something sad happened in relation to the game. A phone call from the operator informed me that the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Stewart requested my assistance. A house had burned to the ground in the Okanogan Valley and a woman and two children were injured. The husband was working at the mine and I was asked to contact him and send him on his way to the officers in Stewart. What I did not say was that this man was the most avid of poker players and, moreover, a loser in virtually every game. I thought matters over, then summoned John, the dryman, and a notorious poker player, who told me: “He (the husband) is dead broke and couldn’t possibly raise the (transportation) fare. However, we’ll make a canvass of the game tonight, and when you tell him of the situation, I’ll be there with money.” I called the miner to my office late that evening and informed him, as kindly as I could, of the police message. He broke down and it was then that John placed over $5,000 in bills of all denominations on the table. “This is a gift from the boys,” John said, “but if you ever show up at the table again, it will mean the end for you.” The miner left with some restored dignity and the confidence to meet the RCMP in Stewart. We never heard from him again. Of course, there were numerous other pastimes (much less remunerative in dollar terms) to alleviate the boredom of off-shift hours. One was fishing. In many cases, a day’s catch would be returned to the cookery for a pan-fry the next day. Also, many mines provided spacious recreation centres. However, few of miners played team sports; they preferred the pool table, a movie or the library.

Of course, few, if any, could tolerate for long the feeling of interminable isolation caused by working at remote camps. Planes, ferries, trains and buses saw a seemingly endless tide of human traffic to and from the outside. Some were penniless, some were enriched from savings, and not a few were loaded with earnings from the poker table.

— S.J. Hunter is a retired mining engineer in Vancouver.