ODDS’N’SODS — The Italian immigrant

During the 1950s, many newly arrived immigrants were hired at the fast-developing world uranium centre that was Elliott Lake, Ont. Numerous sturdy Italians made their way to the mines and gradually formed a substantial part of the workforce.

The Italians were colorful, devoted and industrious. I remember two such miners who rapidly became key members of our development force. They soon reported that they had purchased several grape farms in the south and would have to earn more money in order to pay for the land.

In addition, they had cousins and nephews in Italy they claimed would make good employees, and could we sponsor them? We definitely could not, but, on the other hand, if they happened to come to Canada and if they happened to land in Elliot Lake, we could do our utmost to offer them work.

Needless to say, we were soon swamped with Italian nephews and cousins. Luigi was one such employee, and he once came to me and requested a favor.

“I have a special question to ask you,” he said. “My wife has a fine young nephew in Calabria, the place where the hardest-working Italians live. If we brought him over, could you put him to work?”

I asked George Robson, the mine captain, what he recommended, and he said to me, “If he is half the man that Luigi is, we’ll have a first-class employee.” Not long afterwards, a tall, strapping young man, fresh from Italy and with an engaging smile, came to see us, accompanied by Luigi. His name was Enrico.

George proposed that he take young Enrico with him on the drift crew, and impart to him the arts and skills of the drift miner. George figured that the best man to train Enrico was his sponsor, who could teach him English at the same time.

Some time had passed before George confided in me, “You know that young Enrico has come a long way, and to the point where I’m willing to make him a crew leader in a new drift crew.”

I said, “George, you can’t mean it. You mean to tell me that Enrico has learned to use the AL 47 Jackleg, muck with the Eimco Z1 Loader, install the 60-lb. rail, set up air and water lines, scale and rockbolt, keep the drift on line and grade, maintain ventilation to the workface, load and blast rounds — and all in one year?”

George Robson looked keenly at me and replied, “He is one of the best young men we have on the payroll.”

I went along with the old and wise mine captain, albeit with some silent reservations.

Nonetheless, things went along as George planned and predicted. Enrico became a drift leader and was soon setting performance records amongst the drift crews. This went on for a considerable time.

One day George came to see me and said, “We have a problem with Enrico. He is becoming an absentee employee. He has been missing shifts on Fridays and Mondays. I don’t know what to do. He had such a fine record and is such a fine fellow.”

I advised him that I would speak to Luigi to sort out the problems.

I did not attend to the matter for several weeks, and one Monday morning, a huge car with an Illinois licence plate pulled up in front of our mine office. A well-dressed young man, smoking a long black cigar, walked into our midst.

Here was Enrico, visibly bursting with pride and prosperity. He hugged us all affectionately and told us his story.

He had been visiting relatives in Chicago on weekends and, during one of his stays, two things happened to him. He fell in love with a lovely young girl and he purchased a cigar store there. To conclude his talk with us, he wished to be released from his job so that he could settle peacefully in Chicago with his store and his lady.

Release him we did, with many congratulations mixed with some sadness, as he was a real character and a fine worker.

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