ODDS’N’SODS — Shock treatment

The Paymaster gold mine near Timmins, Ont., started up in the 1920s but ceased operation shortly thereafter and remained closed until 1933, when the yellow metal was valued at upwards of $35 per oz.

The Paymaster mill and concentrator buildings were of duplicate design, and were constructed 100 ft. apart on a steep little hill. The entire operation was reminiscent of mines built on mountainous terrain, which may explain why, until it was torn down in 1995, the Paymaster was the most photographed mine in the Porcupine camp.

The repair shops consisted of a machine shop, electrical shop, pipe shop and a welding and plate-fabrication shop, all adjoining and under one roof.

Heating was by wood-fired oil drums, and running water and washrooms were nonexistent. Toilets consisted of a 4-hole outdoor privy placed to serve the shops, mill and crushing plant.

There was a little trap door, however, in the rear wall of the machine shop where floor sweepings, lathe turnings and scrap were shovelled outside. It was common practice for the shop employees to relieve themselves through the trap door, but after a mail girl complained, a sign prohibiting such a display was put up.

A cockney Englishman — a mechanic who irritated everyone by referring to Canadians as backward colonists and pointed out on a regular basis that “England owns Canada, ya know” — ignored the new directive about not using the trap door improperly. My buddy, M.J. Sweeney from Cobalt, Ont., quietly made plans to set him right.

A section of steel plate, which was to serve as the ground terminal of an electrical circuit, was placed near the opening of the trap door. To the plate, Sweeney then connected a low-voltage transformer, and a power switch to charge the setup was installed under the table in the drafting room.

The idea was to give the Englishman a tingle as he tinkled, though Sweeney’s definition of a tingle did not jibe with the actual voltage produced by the transformer.

When the switch was activated, the Englishman’s screams could be heard in all four shops. When the power was cut, he hurried to the bunkhouse, put his belongings into his duffel bag, called a taxi and disappeared.

The trap door was kept locked after Sweeney’s shenanigans, though it was not long before the nightshift crew obtained a key.

— The author, a frequent contributor to this column, resides in Boyertown, Pa.