HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Bayfield Bulletin, 1964-10-22, Page 8Page 8—Boyfield Bulletin—Thursday, October 22, 1964
BUSHY
TALES
by
ART ELLIOTT
,
The gold rush of '34 in the
Hardrock-Little Longlac area
was brought to mind recently,
and it was my association with
those stirring days that gave
me my first taste of the real
North and the ways of prospec-
tors and drillers and the rest
of the gangs that swarmed the
bush in that area.
We arrived in Jellicoe on the
Port Arthur -line of the Cana-
dian National the hard way—
via the box cars into which we
had climbed at the division
point just outside Sudbury.
"We" refers to Mike Flynn, an
old Woodstock boy, and Nick
Detullio, a squat ittle Italian
roustabout who had led a galli-
vanting life around carnivals
and circuses, and now being un-
employed like hundreds of thou-
sands of others, was just as
hungry as any of them. We
had hitchhiked from Timmins,
hopped the "rattler" at Cap-
reol. narrowly escaping the
railrcad police, and made it
to Jellicoe.
Big Pay
Here we had undertaken to
meet an engineer by the name
of Lee employed by Hollinger
Gold Mines Limited, who had
said we could have jobs at four
dollars a day on the company's
property, if we were able to
be on deck when he arrived.
We beat him by several days
and had time to explore the
citation "in depth" as it would
by now be described.
The bush was teeming with
men. What had been a hamllet
consisting of the CNR station
and a few settlers' cabins, had
in the space of a few weeks
become the hottest gold. camp
in North America. A tent town
had sprung up. There were
grocers operating from tents,
a couple of clothing merchants
dispensing work clothes. Kos-
ki's hotel was under construe-
tim and everyone had high
hopes for a burgeoning town.
There was no law and very
little order, because following
the miners and drillers was a
sleazy retinue of prostitutes
and their pimps, gamblers, shy-
ster promoters, mainly from
Toronto, and of course boot-
leggers.
Bob Elliott in the Varna
area will remember. He was
there, and we met either on the
station platform, or at Koski's
hotel. The next time we met
was about six months ago after
a 30-year wait, in Goderich. It
was good to hash over the old
days for an hour or so.
No Rock—No 6old
Lee finally arrived and we
got the promised pubs at four
dollars a day. For less than a
week. Our job was pick and
shovel work, trenching on the
company's claims as assessment
work to qualify for mineral
rights under the Mining Act
of Ontario. We trenched in
pure sand, five feet deep until
the required amount had been
done. Nowhere on the claims
did we find rock or outcrop.
Nobody cared very much, be-
cause the work was enough to
hold the claims.
What fascinated this teenag-
er of that time was the rough
and ready atmosphere, and the
first taste of the really wild
bush. Working with us were
tall, handsome Ojibway bucks
who spoke scarcely a word of
English. We travelled to work
by canoe across a fairly wide
lake, and on the way the In-
dians sang at the tops of their
voices and with very great
pride, their entire repertoire. It
consisted entirely of "Peggy
O'Neill" and "Jesus Loves Me".
Evidently a Roman Catholic
priest had been active in the
area.
We were to hear these songs
repeated over and over, every
day, probably just as the In-
dians had heard them from an
old windup phonograph.
Black Visitors
It was startling to find fresh
bear sign in the trenches when
we arrived at work in the mor-
ning. The bears had been at-
tracted by the lunch scraps,
and invaded the trenches every
night looking for delicacies. I
remember I did not intend to
be a delicacy for any bear,
and many were the nervous
glances I threw over my shoul-
der as I dug away in the damp
sand. After 30 years I'm just
as scared of black bears.
Paddling Lesson
One morning I motioned to
one of the Ojibways in our
canoe that I would like to take
over his paddle. They had un-
dertaken the paddling chore as
a matter of course. Half way
across the lake I was thorough-
ly pooped and my Indian friend
was having difficulty to keep
from laughing out loud at my
panting. amateurish efforts.
With a smile, he took back
his paddle and put on a dem-
onstration for me that I'll nev-
er forget.
Dipping the paddle deep into
the water, he heaved on it,
something like I had been do-
ing. He grimaced and said:
"White man. Paddle too hard.
Short time all tired."
Then he resumed his nor-
mal paddling, something which
I hadn't paid any particular
attention to before.
"Look," said the Ojibway.
"Indian paddle just little bit.
Paddle all day, all night, never
get tired!"
He was dipping only about
five inches of the blade, using
his wrist more than anything,
taking short quick strokes,
with no sign of strain. He real-
ly knew his business.
Never again have I paddled
like a white man.
Other Lessons
There were other lessons
learned in that first period of
adventure. How alcoholics
would buy vanilla extract at
the tent stores and gulp it
down until they fell unconsc-
ious on the trail, to lie there
in the sun for hours, prey to
the black flies and mosquitoes.
How bushworkers, coming
out after three months in the
wilds, would pay twenty dollars
of their hard-earned wages for
a bottle of rotgut rye that had
cost the bootlegger two dol-
tars and a few cents in Port
Arthur. How a man with a
summer's wages would blow it
in a few hours in a poker or
crap game.
We Need Late Model
Chevrolet & Pontiac
Cars
The G.M. strike has cut off our new car supply. Therefore,
we have no trade-ins. We are badly in need
of yours right now!
We Will:
(a) Buy your car outright for CASH.
(b) Trade you for a cheaper car, giving
you cash for the difference.
(c) Pay any outstanding balance if your
car is financed.
PLEASE SEE US SOON. WE MUST HAVE STOCK TO SELL.
Lorne Brown Motors Ltd.
Ontario Street — CLINTON — Phone 482-9321
Your Friendly Chevrolet, Oldsmobile & Envoy Dealer.
Yes, We Want A Local Permanent Paper!
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MEMO
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THANK YOU,
ART ELLIOTT, Editor and Publisher
THE BAYFIELD BULLETIN. (Please Include Postal Zone if any)