* * As a high school student, I developed a reputation as an entrepreneur. (Editor’s Note: The young Francis supplemented his mother’s war widow’s pension with odd jobs well before his 10th birthday.) In those days (the 1920s), many high school students wore skull caps, popularly known as “Beanies” * * * * Using my mother’s foot-peddle sewing machine, and with the “hired” help of my brother and a number of other students who handled the sales, I made large quantities of beanies and pennants. Selling them was no problem. I simply invited students to sell 10 of my beanies and receive a free one as commission. As word of my beanies spread, I began to receive orders from students in other schools.
The success which I enjoyed in my skull cap and pennant business encouraged me to become involved in selling used textbooks. In this latter venture, I teamed up with a classmate, Ken McKenzie, with whom I also studied later at Victoria College and the University of British Columbia * * * * At the end of the school year, we invited students throughout Victoria (B.C.) to bring used textbooks to our shop and to leave them for sale on consignment. We undertook to sell these books at a profit, to them and to us. However, our very popular activities as used-book-dealers quickly came to the attention of the commercially-licenced new book-dealers who did not approve of the type of competition McKenzie and I had begun to provide * * * * The established book- dealers complained to civic authorities who ordered us to “close shop.”
Ira Dilworth, principal of Victoria High, who knew of my entrepreneurial initiative in regard to the “beanie” and “used textbook” projects, felt that I might do well in the world of banking. At least when he was approached by a major Canadian bank for a recommended “short list” of eligible graduating students for training in that field, Dilworth called me into his office and asked if I was interested in being recommended to the bank. I was of course flattered by his proposal, but after some soul-searching and the counsel of my mother, I declined the suggestion. I had not, to that time, been happy in the “world of numbers” and my mother rightly felt that I was “too physical” and more closely related to “an outdoors discipline.” How right she turned out to be] Even now, when I face a banker, I sometimes think “but for the grace of God * * * ]”
* *
The social environment (at the Bralorne, B.C., camp in the mid-1930s) in which Joe Marron and I set out to raise money for our new Summit Syndicate was one in which individuals had grown accustomed to risks simply by living them, consciously or unconsciously, every day. Marron, who was 20 years older than I and who had long experience as a prospector, took the lead in raising funds for our new syndicate. He went to people he knew had money, were near the scene of action and “had the gold fever.” His first approach, he told me, would be to Zada, the madam of the local “cat house.” If Zada were willing, or game, as Marron put it, she might help to find other buyers for units in the new syndicate.
In addition, of course, there was Zada’s “guy” down the road at Ogden, who ran the poker den and served as the bouncer in Zada’s house, to whom Joe would go if Zada approved. A commonly heard phrase in the Bralorne camp at that time was that “Zada is a lady,” unlike her competition down the road who was known as the “Canyon Cat.” Given my upbringing and essential preoccupation with the securing of jobs so that I might continue my education, I had no personal knowledge of Zada or the Canyon Cat or, indeed, of any girls in their professions. Joe, however, was a much more worldly character and insisted that I accompany him to Zada’s to sell her some units.
I felt quite self-conscious as Joe and I mounted the half-dozen front steps to Zada’s house in the full light of day. Joe, however, didn’t hesitate in the slightest and brashly led the way. Rapping loudly on the door and getting no immediate response — it was about mid-morning — he muttered to me, “probably she ain’t up yet.”
Before long the door was opened about a foot and a woman with tousled reddish-blonde hair surrounding a plump matronly face poked her head and shoulders out from behind the door. It was Zada. Blinking her eyes she asked, “What’s up, Joe?”
“I’ve got a grubstake deal on my mind that I thought could interest you. This is Frenchy Joubin, my partner, a geology student. It’ll only take a minute to give you the pitch.”
“Okay,” said Zada, “he looks like a nice kid, but let him sit outside on the step. He’ll come here on his own, if he decides, when he’s good and ready. Joe, you come in and tell me what’s on your mind.” Before too long Joe emerged from the brothel.
“Not often a guy goes into Zada’s place without money and comes out with a bundle” he boasted to me * * * *
In the days and weeks that followed, we worked hard with pick, shovel, hand drill, steel and dynamite * * * * Despite our hard work and the initial financing provided by Zada and her guy and other venturers, we had to abandon our efforts when snow arrived in the late fall of 1934.
What a story it would have made, I later thought, if our Summit Syndicate, financed by Zada and her clients, had succeeded. What headlines Joe and I would have made] I could see them in my mind’s eye: ZADA AND FRIENDS GRUBSTAKE LATEST GOLD STRIKE ON FERGUSON MOUNTAIN DISCOVERED BY JOE MARRON AND FRENCHY JOUBIN.
* *
At Rupert House, we came down on the coastline of Hudson Bay and (the plane) “taxied” to the muddy shoreline which, at that point, consists of 20-ft-high clay bluffs. As we taxied in, we caught glimpses of the white-painted wood structures of the Hudson Bay post and the nearby church. These buildings were quite picturesque, particularly when contrasted with the surrounding native shacks of unpainted wood, canvas and animal hides and a clutter of sleds and tethered howling sleigh dogs.
At the top edge of the bluff, the colorful figure of a male Indian appeared in leather trappings, long, braided hair and a red bandanna headdress. Quickly, the student in our party dropped to one knee and snapped what was probably a good silhouette picture. He then approached the still figure of the Indian, who, arms crossed, gazed down with fixed interest at our small debarking group.
As the Indian stared at the aircraft, the student started talking to him. I heard snatches of the monologue as I slowly climbed the steep path to the bluff edge.
“Hi] You Indian? Maybe Chief?” The Indian’s gaze remained fixed on the aircraft. “We come long way in Iron Bird. Five pale-faces. Travel North Bay to Seal. High, like Canada goose. We fly one sun.”
The Indian remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the aircraft.
“We go Seal, find lead. Iron Bird leave us alone there. Iron Bird fly home fast, fast.” For the first time the Indian’s gaze shifted from the aircraft to the student’s face, regarded him in stony silence for several second s, then quietly asked, “What the hell’s your hurry?”
* *
Through the courses I took in chemistry, physics, geology, mineralogy and paleontology, I gradually gained knowledge of the history of the earth’s formation and of the composition and structure of its many varieties of rock. The interr
elationships between rock formations and environmental and climatic influences became clearer, as did my understanding of the evolution of both animated and inanimate organic life on our planet.
My new studies greatly increased my appreciation of the role of time as a factor of change. I learned that an increasingly detailed geological record of planet Earth has gradually become available over a 3-billion-year period, within a universe even older. Undoubtedly, time has been one of the most, if not the most, critical factors in those “miracles of nature” evidenced by our earth’s surface, in both physical and organic form. Since the normal personal experience of time is fewer than 100 years, few individuals develop a comprehensive concept of time and its powers. Fortunately, the geologist and paleontologist are able to develop the necessary awareness. The anthropologist’s time-frame of “human occupation of this planet” is probably in the order of 300,000 years. The paleontologist, however, has knowledge of several great organic kingdoms, each of which has evolved, climaxed and disappeared with little more than a fossil trace over many millions of years. I began to realize that humans are brash latecomers and that mankind’s preoccupation with forceful means of controlling his environment will, in all likelihood, only accelerate his self destruction and early demise.
* *
Through reading about these scientific developments I became more aware of the advantages of x-ray diagnosis and the use of radium in the treatment of cancer. This began to focus my interest in the fascinating element, uranium, and the geological formations in which it could be found * * * *
* *
As Joe Hirshhorn (the famous mining promoter) and I began to work together on a daily basis, I kept to the routine I had followed throughout my professional career: in any new undertaking, I always stood and looked before I walked, walked before I ran, and ran before I leaped. I always considered my specific objectives carefully and proceeded to their realization cautiously and persistently. This pattern of steady professional progress had brought me satisfying results and a certain reputation. I had become known to the mining fraternity in Toronto’s Bay Street “jungle” as an able “hustling” field geologist and prospector.
* * (Editor’s Note: In the early 1960s, Joubin went to work for the United Nations, fortunately shunning office assignments at its headquarters in New York, to find porphyry copper deposits in Panama, Mexico and Colombia; potash deposits near the Baltic coast of Poland; an important carbonatite structure in Central India; and uraniferrous laterite deposits in Somalia. We conclude excerpts from his autobiography with a ruminative passage from the last chapter.)
To a considerable extent, my life has been a journey of discovery. Some of the discoveries in which I have shared were exciting and joyful. Others were disturbing and sombre. In the foregoing chapters, I have sought to describe some of these discoveries, what led up to them, and what I learned from them.
Most, but not all, of the mineral discoveries I have made were products of my innate curiosity and persistence. All of the primary discoveries in which I have been involved, however, were shared with one or more persons all of whom have contributed in significant ways to the richness of my journey through life.
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