ODDS’N’SODS — The minesites of Painkiller Lake Caretaker or “Custodian”?

In the mid-1930s, I first learned about Painkiller Lake, 10 miles from Matheson, Ont. The Blue Quartz mine is adjacent to the lake and the old Coulson mine is on the opposite side, about a mile from the lakeshore.

Both properties were abandoned at that time, but being afflicted with “mine exploritis”, I really enjoyed exploring these old operations.

With two friends, Ted and Lou, I often fished for walleyes from the rock islands in Painkiller Lake. For these outings, we were usually permitted to use the caretaker’s boat at the Coulson mine.

Ted often fished solo and he advised us that changes had come about at the Coulson, in that the old caretaker had been replaced with a good-looking young couple. As well, the name of the former producer had been changed to the Devon gold mine.

At that time, an underground contractor was extracting a 10,000-ton sample from two stopes, with the ore piled between the minesite office and the headframe.

Ted also advised us that the property had been “secured” and had a locked chain across the road. And we soon found out that the attractive lady began to charge by the hour for the use of the fishing boat.

We investigated this procedure and, after meeting the new caretakers — who told us they were “custodians” — I had an uneasy feeling about this pair. It was hard to put my finger on exactly why this was the case, but the feeling persisted. While Lou and Ted continued fishing, I circled around and found that the rear of the ore pile was being reworked systematically.

Later, we paid for the use of the boat and the pretty lady said that we could purchase a cold beer if we desired, so we ordered some.

She surprised us by pinning her skirt between her legs and climbing down the manway ladder to get the beer. We soon found out that the beer was considerably more expensive than Brickyard Jimmy’s back in Matheson.

At the Ford-Mercury dealership, the salesman told me about this “great looking young couple” who had appeared with a shoe box filled with cash and quickly purchased a new Mercury. He knew nothing of their background, he said, except that they were from “out of town” and “they did not have a local accent.” I connected this information to the “custodians,” but kept quiet.

On our next fishing trip to Painkiller Lake, we signed for the boat but, again, I circled around to an abandoned sawmill approximately a mile behind the Devon mine.

The sawmill had been “secured”, but I located the Mercury in the former boiler room, under a tarpaulin.

In the sawmill I discovered a moose skinned out and strung up on a rope block, and partially butchered, so I assumed the “custodians” were providing the lumber camp with some fresh meat.

Ted later learned that the old caretaker had his job back and the “custodians” relocated to the mining town of Val d’Or, Que., where the husband now worked in a gold mill.

Less than a year later, we learned that the husband had been caught, on graveyard shift, filling his thermos bottle from the Denver jig and had received the “automatic three years in the slammer.”

That fall, I showed Ted and Lou the old sawmill and, again, there was a calf moose hung up and being butchered.

We decided that, whether known as a caretaker or a “custodian,” providing meat for the lumber camps appeared to be an accepted fringe benefit.

A frequent contributor to this column, A.E. Alpine is a resident of Boyerton, Pennsylvania.