Gordon
Shearn’s Gold Rush
A Prospector’s First-hand Account of the Red Lake Gold Rush of 1926
Introduction & Acknowledgements:
This is the story of Gordon Shearn, a prospector who walked the 180-mile gold rush trail from Hudson to Red Lake in the winter of 1926, at the height of the gold rush. Shearn, who was born and raised in Bristol, England, spent the rest of his life in Red Lake, with his wife, Winnifred, and son, James, until his death in 1977. He prospected throughout the district, and in 1944, staked the Dickenson Mine, today known as Goldcorp Inc., for the final time. Gordon Shearn was also an accomplished artist and a founder of the community.
The Red Lake Museum wishes to thank James Shearn, son of the author, for granting us permission to publish this story. This account was originally published in the Precambrian magazine in April 1956, to mark the 25th anniversary of the discovery of gold in Red Lake.
“This story is meant to be a memoir and a tribute to the courage, hard work, and perseverance of those men and women whose pioneering spirit overcame enormous hardship, mostly without the support of an extended family or government assistance. By their enterprise and efforts they carved a community out of the wilderness and laid the foundations for future generations to live in a country of communities which have become the true north, strong and free.” James Shearn,, July 2001
In 1925 two prospecting parties visited the Red Lake district on the strength of Dr. E.L. Bruce's report and map published the previous year. One comprised Lorne Howey and his brother-in-law George McNeeley, and the other party Ray Howey (brother of Lorne) and W.F. Morgan. A Haileybury syndicate financed the former party and the latter employed by McIntyre Porcupine.
Late in July Lorne Howey and his partner discovered a quartz porphyry dike containing well-mineralized quartz lenses from which they were able to pan gold. They staked a group of claims about the discovery and around the same time Ray and his partner picked up what later proved to be the same dike a half or three quarters of a mile to the southwest, and staked an adjoining group.
On arriving outside Lorne Howey contacted Jack Hammell, a well known mine promoter who made preparations for a trip to the district. The news was not broadcast too freely, although a number of the mining fraternities were tipped off with the result that a few more parties were able to get in that fall. Among them were the Cochenour brothers and the late Major Dunlop who went in for Coniagas Mines, and Red Lake Prospectors Syndicate, most of which parties tended to follow Ray Howey that is to the southwest. Jack St. Paul and a partner, however, re-staked the McManus group at Chukuni River, which had originally been staked in 1922 during a mild and erroneous silver rush.
The Cochenour brothers, after staking near the discovery group, moved about four miles north along the shoreline and finally staked what later became the Cochenour-Willans Gold Mine Limited.
A party under the late Alex Gillies was rushed in to do trenching and other surface work on the Howey. Jack St. Paul and partner, after enjoying Christmas dinner with Alex Gillies, went to the steel (term used for going to civilization, going to the rail road or going "outside") and wired Charles St. Paul (brother of Jack) to come to Quibell with dogs and outfit. Quibell was the jumping-off place for the earlier stampeders, but was abandoned later in favour of Hudson farther east, which made the trail longer but better travelling.
On arriving east, Major Dunlop immediately resigned from Coniagas to form his own syndicate. Jack Hammell succeeded in interesting Dome Mines in the Howey group and the entry of such a strong company onto the field took a grip on the public and precipitated the biggest rush since the Klondike in 1898.
Crates Aid Stampede
It deserves a place in mining history also as the last of the old-fashioned stampedes of dog-team and toboggan. Two old planes--they were referred to as "crates" for obvious reasons--made their appearance during these hectic days and were the pioneers of the present day airborne bush travel.
January 1926 saw the early stakers of the field. Charles St. Paul and partners staked Gold Shore, adjoining Howey to the west. Major Dunlop staked from Chukuni River east of McManus, north to Balmer Lake, a total of 47 claims for three syndicates: Dunlop Red Lake, Toronto Red Lake and the Patricia Exploration Syndicate.
I did not arrive at Hudson until March, having put in the winter at a logging camp. As Red Lake was the chief topic of discussion, I reasoned there should be no shortage of work. What attracted my attention most, outside of the bustling mass of humanity, was the number of dogs in the vicinity. There must have been more than two hundred of them, all sizes, breeds and colours, tethered hither and yon from the lakeshore to the top of the hill behind the town. It was hard to find a tree stump without a dog attached to it and one and all made music by day and night.
There were three places to sleep: Keneally's hotel, the floor of the Hudson's Bay Company store, and the train station waiting room. The hotel cost real money. The floor of the Hudson's Bay Store cost a dollar a night, so after working all winter for $26-$30 a month, I decided to keep my few dollars and spent the night occupying a tract of floor about two feet by four feet in the station waiting room. What sleep I had was definitely terminated by four in the morning when various parties, desirous of making an early start, began to trek outside to cook breakfast. Although I was near a corner of the waiting room, it seemed no one was able to get outside without walking on me, so I decided to get a breath of fresh air myself, not a bad idea, as can easily be imagined although it was plenty cold outside.
Besides the hotel dining room there were two buildings, which had hastily been converted into restaurants, although many of the prospectors did their own cooking in the great outdoors. As dawn broke, I saw a plane on the ice and strolled down to look it over. It was a double cockpit open job and looked much like the planes I had seen in France not so many years previous. Incidentally, this plane was to crash about two weeks later only about two miles from Hudson on the same lake. Luckily there were no fatalities, but both pilot and passenger were badly injured. Out of curiosity I inquired the cost of transportation on this crate.
One Dollar a Pound
The rate was one dollar per pound, man and baggage, which meant that a man of average size, with an eiderdown and a few things in a packsack, would have to lay two hundred dollars on the barrelhead.
A little later in the day a stranger who asked if I intended going in approached me. I told him that was my intention, if I could find ways and means. He asked if I had ever driven a dog team. I neglected to tell him that it was only once, but I told him I had and I was hired on the spot to take a dog team with a toboggan load of supplies.
It appeared that he had a brother inside with a party, and the dog team was then on its way out and should arrive at Hudson that evening. My employer, whose name was Williams, wanted two men, so I guaranteed to find a partner for the trail, which I did in less than an hour--a big lad straight from a Manitoba farm whose chief attraction for me was a long heavy overcoat. The only bedding I possessed was a pair of lumberjack blankets decidedly inadequate for sleeping in the bush, but with that overcoat between them we could make out quite well.
Agreements were drawn up and signed in the Hudson Bay Company store. We were to receive seventy-five dollars a month, and board, and were allowed to retain one claim on our license. The remainders, including proxies, were to be the property of our employer, who jumped on the next train for Sioux Lookout after buying our load of supplies at the Hudson Bay store. He also had a sixteen-foot canoe at the station express office, which had to be taken in.
Trains of Prospectors
Meanwhile, every train was loaded with gold seekers, many suffering from a bout with John Barleycorn, for although Ontario was still dry, Winnipeg was very wet. On most of the trains some joker had chalked "Red Lake or Bust.” With the men, of course, came more dogs, and the resultant din of dog fights, drunks, howling dogs, whistling trains and roaring planes, I'm sure made Hudson, for a few weeks, the noisiest town on earth.
That evening, my partner and I went to Keneally's Hotel and found our dog team had been duly delivered there. I am afraid we gazed at them and at one another in silence for a long time. They sure were a nondescript bunch, only one of the six bearing any resemblance to the breed usually associated with dog-harness, and that one so thin you could spit through him. One was definitely an Airedale and as for the rest, anyone's guess is good. Anyway, we made them a good feed and once more made for the station waiting room. After loading our toboggan with all but bedding and cooking gear we staked out our sleeping space for the night.
Next morning we got up before dawn, cooked breakfast and were on our way. As the town dropped out of sight behind us I could not help but think of the adage "fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” We were two of a kind, green as green paint, without a compass or a map between us, but we had one pair of lumberjack blankets and a good thick overcoat.
However, it was easy to follow the trail. When we came to a fork, we took the more travelled branch, although if one waited in doubt, it wouldn't be long before someone passed going out or going in. It is hardly necessary to state that many budding reporters and journalists wrote reams about this venture and certainly some had allowed their imagination to run riots. In Winnipeg, I know not what paper, I had read that the trail to Red Lake was blazed with dead dogs. I didn't see one although there may have been some covered with snow. I did, however, see what to my mind was infinitely worse. More than once we passed dogs suffering from distemper, which had been left to die. If anything blazed the trail to Red Lake, it was--of all things--painkiller bottles. There must have been hundreds of "short snorts" taken on that trail.
Mush you S.O.B.
Another enthusiastic and budding journalist played up the "Red Lake or Bust" slogan as being on everyone's lips, but I'm willing to go on record in stating that another slogan, although by no means new, obtained better results and was far more responsible for men achieving their goal. That slogan was "Mush you S.O.B.'s!" and could be heard from one end of any lake to the other, through the bush, from hill to hill and in the muskegs between, from early dawn until dusk.
The Red Lake rush may have been the greatest since the Klondike, but from what we read in books the resemblance ends there. Far from regarding other men as competitors, the crowd seemed to accept one another as neighbours and while of necessity there was hustle and enthusiasm, it was governed by common sense. To my knowledge no one ever found himself in trouble without also finding many willing hands to help him on his way. In like manner, the courtesy of the trail was observed. On being overtaken by a faster team the man ahead would pull off the trail at the first opportunity and allow the faster team to go ahead. Those coming out would be travelling light and would invariably pull out to allow those going in to pass. Dog fights, or perhaps one should say team fights, occurred occasionally, the settling of which required the use of both hands, both feet and anything one could grab in the way of a lethal weapon.
Twenty Five Cents a Night
The first day of travelling brought us to Lac Seul, Hudson Bay Post where for 25¢ one could sleep on the floor of the bunkhouse, a building empty but for a stove. The second day's journey was about twenty-five miles across Lac Seul. The stowing of a sixteen-foot canoe on a ten-foot toboggan had occasioned a little difficulty. After trying various ways, we decided the easiest way was to place a sack of flour at the rear end of the toboggan and just lash the canoe on top, right side up, and dump the rest of the load into the canoe. This dispensed with the troublesome task of unloading at night and lashing up again next morning.
One Dollar a Night
The second night saw us at Sand's Fish Camp, where an enterprising fellow from Sioux Lookout had built in a few pole bunks and cut a big pile of cook stove wood. He charged a dollar a night. If you reached there early, your reward was a bunk; if not, your dollar got you a flop on the deck. However, it was good to get the use of a cook stove with wood already out. Dog food had to be cooked outdoors. At this camp I first met Tommy Powell, who, through his discovery of the Powell-Rouyn had helped to spark the boom in the Rouyn camp. He was returning to his latest find in Woman Lake, the discovery that occasioned the rush to that particular district.
The next day we reached Gold Pines, which was known then as Pine Ridge, and was just another Hudson Bay Post. From here on the traffic thinned out somewhat, as many took the trail north to the new field of Woman Lake. Indeed, many who started for Red Lake changed their plans by the time they reached Pine Ridge, and in view of the number who had preceded them, decided their chances might be better in the newer camp. There was to be hot rivalry between the two camps during the first couple of years, especially as there were more discoveries made in Woman Lake during that time than Red Lake.
One_Armed Prospector
It was at Pine Ridge that I met a one-armed prospector, having the old-fashioned hook where his left hand should have been. He was very adapt in its use, lashing a toboggan or using an axe with the best, and very useful in plucking out the boiling pots from the interior of the pot-bellied stove at which we did our cooking. It was also at this point that I heard of one enterprising old fellow, Tim Crowley of Quibell, who had brought a horse in over the dog trail hauling a toboggan. He eventually staked a part of what is now McKenzie Island Gold Mines.
After Pine Ridge we were forced to spend two nights in the bush. At this stage we began making inquiries from outgoing travellers as to the whereabouts of one Frank Williams, to whom we were to report and deliver our load. The third or fourth party we asked happened to know him and informed us his party was at an old fur farm on Gullrock Lake. We eventually arrived there on the evening of the sixth day after leaving the steel, having hiked every step of the way, as the load was far too heavy to permit us to ride.
During the last two days on the trail we noticed a number of Indians with dog teams either going out empty or going in loaded. We learned the reason for this. The hungry horde of stakers had put an unprecedented strain on the resources of the Hudson Bay Trading Post and cleaned it out like a plague of grasshoppers. The Indians were being paid seven dollars per hundred for freighting in fresh supplies.
Palatial Accommodation
The ex-fur farm proved to be a group of three cabins in various stages of dilapidation, but after the trail the finest hotel could not have looked better. Our party, consisting of our new boss, Frank Williams, one other prospector, and we two new arrivals, occupied the best cabin. The other two cabins were crowded with rather a mixed bunch, among whom, apparently, the only way to wake up with all one's belongings was to pin them to one's person before going to bed.
The following day Williams sent the three of us north to Ranger Lake to stake. We took the dog team with tent and grub and eventually located open ground on the North Shore adjacent to where the late Jack Munro was busily staking. Three days later, having staked eighteen claims, according to the old regulations, three on our own licence and three on each of two proxy licenses, we returned to Gullrock and the following day headed for Red Lake to record.
The common camping ground was the muskeg at the south end of Howey Bay where the little creek flows into the bay. This would be about the centre of the community of tents and there were hundreds of them pitched cheek to jowl all the way from the shoreline--all sizes, shapes and colours. At all hours of the day some party would be striking their tent to pull out and the idea was to grab their tent-site with the bedding brush already cut if you were quick enough. The Recording Office was a tent pitched on the shoreline and here the fun began.
Hectic Claims Recording
First of all there were no blueprints left and any that one could borrow were so far outdated as to be practically useless. The second and worse blow was that no more application forms were available. You had to write your own forms or you couldn't record any staking. Upon asking for application blanks the recorder, Bert Holland, would hand one application blank and a flock of foolscap with instructions to return the application form for someone else to copy from. If you have never witnessed a grizzled old bushwhacker trying to copy all the printing on an application form with a carpenter's pencil, which was what most of them used for staking, then you have certainly missed something. Fortunately, a large tent had been erected at the foot of Howey Hill in preparation for the teamsters who were expected to arrive with the first sleigh train from Hudson. I retired there with a bundle of foolscap and, thank heaven, not a marking pencil but a writing pencil.
It was at this bright moment that I learned the boss had a total of eighty_four claims more, sixty of which were not yet recorded, and further, that the rest of our party could not do much more with a pencil than sign their own name.
“Snoose” Causes Labour Crisis
There were two men from Florida, who had come in armed with a portable typewriter, in the hope of selling a write-up of the new camp. They now turned their efforts to typing application forms for a dollar each. By making three or four carbon copies they made real wages for a while.
Life during those days was anything but dull, and about that time the first labor troubles hit the new camp. It had nothing to do with hours or wages. It concerned the cutting of wood for the steam-driven diamond drills. Most of the woodcutters were Finns, and there came a day when the warehouse ran out of snoose. The woodcutters indignantly laid down their axes and saws and declared "No snoose--No wood.” The next plane to land in the bay was at once commandeered to bring in a load of Copenhagen, and when it arrived everything was rosy again.
Icy Underwater Rescue
Several fellows with sufficient energy and enthusiasm pulled their own toboggan or sleigh in from the railroad. Among the number was the late Ed Patterson, who was well on in years, having experienced the Klondike rush in '98. Another was Joe Biron, who was also quite a character. While pulling his toboggan toward the Pipestone Bay area he went through the ice and his toboggan sank. Joe was a physical culture fiend and realizing that all his worldly possessions were at the bottom of the lake, he stripped off his clothes on the ice, as he explained later "so he could swim more better,” and took a header through the hole in the ice and came up with his toboggan. Joe was a hard man to stop.
Some days later the first horse teams arrived. They belonged to the Red Lake Transportation Company, formed by Ken McDougall and his brother Archie. As the teamsters rounded the bend into Howey Bay the teamsters whipped up their horses in a race for the honor of being the first teamster to arrive. With the arrival of the teams came Neil Faulkenham with a load of supplies and he set up a store in a large tent near Hammell's Narrows. It was expensive freighting and prices were high. From seventy-five cents to a dollar per pound for butter, lard, bacon, or a dozen eggs may not sound so outrageous in this day and age, but in those days a dollar was worth a hundred cents. Wages at that time were two dollars per day and board for surface labor.
There was little done in the way of prospecting during those days, with about three feet of snow on the ground, except that everyone was hoping for good results from the Dome and McIntyre Drilling. The whole idea was to stake, stake, and stake again. From March 21st to April 21st more than 3,000 claims were recorded. By break-up that spring the district was staked solid from west of Pipestone Bay to east of Gullrock Lake, and from far north of East Bay to south of Faulkenham Lake.
Horses are Expensive
Break-up brings the aforementioned horse back into the news. Afraid of being caught without feed, the owner sent out a frantic order for hay and oats to be flown in. Upon arrival the pilot presented the bill, the exact amount of which I am not sure but somewhere in the vicinity of seventy-five dollars. At the look on the old prospector's face the pilot explained that flying a plane was an expensive proposition. The prospector was not amused. Turning the plane around for the take-off, the pilot got stuck in slush. At someone’s suggestion, he sent for the horse to pull him out. "How much do I owe you, Mac?" cried the pilot happily, after his plane had been hauled to dry snow. "Seventy-five bucks!" said Tim Crowley, without batting an eye "Feeding a horse up here's a damn expensive proposition.”
Near Starvation at Break-Up
The break-up of ‘26 we spent at Snake Falls, putting up a building, which was to be a stopping place. We almost starved waiting for a planeload of grub, which never came, and when the ice was gone we headed for Pine Ridge. We never did collect our wages, and we split up to look for a job. After a few weeks working at odd jobs, which were plentiful, I hired out to work for the late Major Cunningham-Dunlop who had staked the ground now known as McFie, Detta, Dickenson, Brewis and Abino. Three companies owned this ground and each pulled off after working them for a couple of years and bringing them to patent.
Good Ground Runs Open
Many may wonder why this ground was allowed to run open after good money had been expended. It must be remembered that conditions and methods of that day cannot be compared with those of the present. In the first place the idea prevailed that with the camp so far from steel, operation costs would be high and that any ore running less than $10.00 per ton could not be considered. With the price of gold at $20.60 per ounce, that meant half an ounce of ore. Another factor to be considered was the high cost of diamond drilling. In 1927 Dunlop Consolidated Mines paid $8,000 for 2,000 feet of drillin--$4 per foot, and the reason the price was so low was the fact that the drills were already in the country. The same drills had performed the Dome Drilling on Howey. A systematic cross sectional campaign such as is carried out today would have resulted in a bill the size of a war debt.
Beehive of Activity
During the summer of '26 the country was a beehive of activity and every mile of shoreline could boast at least one camp. Mail was carried by canoe and arrived once a week. For a quarter one could send mail by Patricia Airways, the one hitch being that the missive might lie at the Post Office for a week waiting for a plane.
Two nurses and a doctor were stationed in a tent near the site of the Recording Office and a little farther along the shore a lone member of the Ontario Provincial police. On a tiny island out in the bay just in front of the Howey Dam was the tent, which housed the equipment at the Camp's first "Home Brew" manufacturer. After rolling up the walls of his tent he could lie at ease on his bed roll and had any official looking canoe ventured too close, by merely straightening his leg, the evidence would be kicked into the lake.
In June, owing to the staking fever shifting to Woman Lake, the Recording Office was moved to Pine Ridge where already the Imperial Bank had opened for business in a tent.
Explosion Kills Faulkenham
In August of that summer, Neil Faulkenham, whose little tent store was doing a land office business, was accidentally killed while returning a few sticks of powder to his powder house. The story regarding his death was that a prospector returned the powder as no good--too many misfires. All anyone knows is that an explosion was heard and Neil Faulkenham was found with his body blown apart.
In September the Camp received what most considered was the K.O. punch. Dome Mines dropped their option on the Howey property and in October the last canoe load left for the railroad. The pall of gloom, which hung over the camp may be better imagined than described, and the exodus was almost as speedy as had been the influx the previous spring. Some, however, when the closing of prospect camps threw then out of jobs, decided to stay in and trap for the winter, as did some die-hards who were working their own claims. Several paddled canoes all the way to Hudson for winter supplies, in order to buy cheap and thus save money. I was fortunate in being left at the Dunlop camp cutting a little wood and preparing the camp for the diamond drill campaign, which was due to commence in the new year. I also bought a trapping licence by which I may have made tobacco money, certainly not much more.
That fall the Hudson’s Bay Company Trading Post was moved from Post Narrows to a point north of Howey Bay now known as Johnson's Point. The Post Office was kept open under the original postmaster, the late Bill Brown. Mail after freeze-up was brought in two relays from Hudson by dog team--first to Pine Ridge and thence to Red Lake once every ten days. The postmaster now branched out into the store and fur buying business.
Christmas Day Gathering
On Christmas Day, practically the little band of exiles from all over the lake congregated at the Hudson Bay Post. Sandy McIntyre, Two-bits Cowan and Jack Logan were among them as was Buck Coulee. Someone popped up with three or four gallons of what was termed "home made beer" and the Christmas spirit just embraced everyone. A rifle meet was held in the afternoon but I'm sure no world records were broken.
Life certainly seemed full of surprises, both pleasant and unpleasant, and just after the New Year death visited the community under strange circumstances, and thereby hangs quite a story.
Prospector Frozen on Toboggan
A prospector answering to the name of Joe Millar (which was an alias) was trapping from an island at the mouth of Howey Bay, and suffered a heart attack while travelling his trapline. He managed to lie on his toboggan and the dogs headed for home. Just when and where death actually occurred will never be known but Bill Brown, the postmaster, heard the dogs howling for over twenty-four hours and sent an Indian over to investigate. The dogs had pulled up at the door of the cabin and Joe Millar was on the toboggan frozen stiff.
The Postmaster, who had known Joe previously, sent word to his family, informing them of his death and asking instruction concerning disposal of the body. He was requested to ship the body out and after sending word for a plane, wrapped the corpse in a blanket and sat down to wait. About a week later, the plane, a Curtiss Lark, arrived piloted by an ex R.A.F. World War I veteran. It was two cockpit open job and Joe's mortal remains were hoisted aboard, but the fuselage only came to half way up his thighs and the pilot figured the load far too top heavy and it being in the forward cockpit obscured his vision. The question of doubling up the body was broached but the combined forces of rigor mortis and 55 below zero weather ruled that out. Then Bill Brown came out with an idea, which was not surprising, as he certainly was full of them--some good, some bad, but always ideas. His solution was to saw the body in two and as a coffin was already waiting at the railroad.
Never Fails, Corpse Remains Intact
Joe was taken from the plane and laid across a saw horse, Bill Brown took one handle of a crosscut saw, gave the other end to the very dubious pilot and they started to work. Two strokes of the saw went through the blanket and the third stroke brought out a few strands of khaki frieze breeches at which the pilot dropped his end of the saw and declared the idea null and void. After another consultation the solution was surprisingly simple. The corpse was slid head first into the cockpit and a turn of haywire around the legs and around the fuselage held it rigid and the pilot duly delivered the body at Hudson all in one piece and not, I am sure, without a heartfelt sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, news kept filtering in regarding the formation of Howey Gold Mines Ltd., and in February 1927 rumor became reality when sinking equipment was brought in and under management of H.G. Young, the hope of a mine on Howey was realized. Although it is common knowledge that once started it never closed, there were certainly many obstacles to be overcome both before and after the advent of Hydro power, which necessitated the building of a dam and power house at Ear Falls.
Howey Activity Revives Camp
However, the return of activity to the Howey property revived the whole camp and the summer of '27 saw the return of many parties to the scene of previous summer's work, and many new discoveries were made at McKenzie, Cochenour, Martin McNeeley, Lake Rowan and various other places. Yet it was to Woman Lake that the bulk of the interest and all-important finances were directed and shaft-sinking preparations were commenced at Jackson Manion, Bathurst, Dunkin and Bobjo. I went over that summer to Woman Lake and did not return to Red Lake until the following spring during which time a sinking plant had arrived for the Gold Shore Mine.
The Smith-Morrison group under the new name of Red Mammoth also sank a shaft that year. The mine eventually became McMarmac. The summer of '28 saw the erection of the dam and powerhouse at Ear Falls near Pine Ridge. The name Pine Ridge was now changed to Gold Pines and what a rowdy camp that was for a few months. There wasn't much in the way of pleasure or strife that a fellow could not get if he wanted it. The wonder is there weren't many fatalities. One party well-inebriated left for Red Lake in a canoe and woke up some four hours later on a sand bar in the river about three miles out of town; their motor had run dry.
Court Cases Common
Court cases were common but Bert Holland, who was the magistrate as well as recorder, was very lenient and seemed to take an almost fatherly interest in some of the lawbreaker. A certain elderly night watchman on the construction project was altogether too fond of John Barleycorn. It was arranged that he be picked up for drunkenness, brought before his Honor, and given a tongue lashing by that official that he would remember for some time. "Sweeney" roared Bert Holland "we all like to drink, we all take a drink and sometimes we take a little more than is good for us, dammit-all man you drink too much!"
"B-b-b-b- Mr. Holland" interrupted the inebriate, who had been well fortified with an eye_opener, "Mr. Holland, there isn't too much.” The magistrate couldn't keep a straight face and dismissed the case with the promise of a stiff sentence if the prisoner appeared before him again.
Howey Carries on After Crash
Things were quiet during 1929 and not many prospects were worked. That fall saw the stock market crash and for a few years the Howey was the lone beacon in an otherwise defunct district. Some properties admittedly did a little surface work but Howey alone did underground development until 1933 when McKenzie Island commenced sinking operations. Howey had become a producer in spring of 1930 which summer also saw the first Red Lake bush fire. Fortunately few houses were destroyed but among them was Jack Hammell's cabin at Hammell Narrows. The Gold Shore sinking equipment and hundreds of cords of wood also were destroyed. From the sinking of McKenzie shaft the camp moved forward steadily and in 1934 west Red Lake, Gold Eagle, Gold Shore, Lake Rowan, Red Crest and Cole Gold Mines all carried out underground operation, as also did Cochenour Willans under Hollinger option.
Second Boom Year
Nineteen thirty-four was the second boom year for Red Lake but still life was far from being one sweet song. Conigas had refused McKenzie Island, Hollinger turned down Cochenour-Willans as they had turned down Red Mammoth in 1931. The year 1934 also saw the opening of the first Movie Theater and that, which caused much greater celebration, a Hotel, complete with Beverage Room. Civilization was here to stay.
By 1935, many of the properties closed through lack of capital, but Madsen continued working and sank their first shaft. The following year, 1936, saw another and bigger boom. Diamond drilling was getting less expensive and much surface work was performed. Lake Rowan and Red Crest reopened, May-Spiers, Frontier, and Faulkenham sank shafts and Howey fumbled their options on Madsen. Shortly thereafter Jack Hammell purchased the old McIntyre property, which had lain idle since 1926 and offered it to Howey, an offer which was refused. This resulted in formation of the Hasaga. From that period on through the war years the camp just held its own when came the greatest boom of all in 1944, which is too recent to be dealt with at length. Suffice to say three producers came into being, Starratt-Olsen, Campbell and Dickenson. Lake Rowan also reopened. The writer was asked to record the early history of the Camp, but found it difficult to know when to quit.
Seven Producing Mines
The trouble with this camp is that the members of the community do not realize the importance of their own district. Last year, 1944, according to Toronto "Globe and Mail" there were 44 producing Mines in Ontario, when one considers there are seven in this district, that feeling of importance is quite pardonable in any Red Laker, and the beauty of it is, there are many more still in the ice box.
H.G. Young Mines, McFinley, Abino, Red Arum, West Red Lake, Red Crest, Cole Gold Mines, with more or less proven are bodies, and countless other groups with good surface showings, still owned by prospectors. This winter marks the 25th anniversary of the Camp and it will be very interesting to watch the developments of the next quarter of a century.
Pioneers Now Few in Numbers
Regarding those who came in over the trail in '26 and remained, there are still a few around but they have been passing on in the last years and their number grows pitifully small. I am sure, however, that one and all are thankful for the providence which directed their stops to this district where the hard days of the depression were something one read about and where with the exception of a few little set-back, living has steadily become more pleasant as the years slip astern. I also think it is the wish of most to be able to remain for many years to come.
The End
A Prospector’s First-hand Account of the Red Lake Gold Rush of 1926
Introduction & Acknowledgements:
This is the story of Gordon Shearn, a prospector who walked the 180-mile gold rush trail from Hudson to Red Lake in the winter of 1926, at the height of the gold rush. Shearn, who was born and raised in Bristol, England, spent the rest of his life in Red Lake, with his wife, Winnifred, and son, James, until his death in 1977. He prospected throughout the district, and in 1944, staked the Dickenson Mine, today known as Goldcorp Inc., for the final time. Gordon Shearn was also an accomplished artist and a founder of the community.
The Red Lake Museum wishes to thank James Shearn, son of the author, for granting us permission to publish this story. This account was originally published in the Precambrian magazine in April 1956, to mark the 25th anniversary of the discovery of gold in Red Lake.
“This story is meant to be a memoir and a tribute to the courage, hard work, and perseverance of those men and women whose pioneering spirit overcame enormous hardship, mostly without the support of an extended family or government assistance. By their enterprise and efforts they carved a community out of the wilderness and laid the foundations for future generations to live in a country of communities which have become the true north, strong and free.” James Shearn,, July 2001
In 1925 two prospecting parties visited the Red Lake district on the strength of Dr. E.L. Bruce's report and map published the previous year. One comprised Lorne Howey and his brother-in-law George McNeeley, and the other party Ray Howey (brother of Lorne) and W.F. Morgan. A Haileybury syndicate financed the former party and the latter employed by McIntyre Porcupine.
Late in July Lorne Howey and his partner discovered a quartz porphyry dike containing well-mineralized quartz lenses from which they were able to pan gold. They staked a group of claims about the discovery and around the same time Ray and his partner picked up what later proved to be the same dike a half or three quarters of a mile to the southwest, and staked an adjoining group.
On arriving outside Lorne Howey contacted Jack Hammell, a well known mine promoter who made preparations for a trip to the district. The news was not broadcast too freely, although a number of the mining fraternities were tipped off with the result that a few more parties were able to get in that fall. Among them were the Cochenour brothers and the late Major Dunlop who went in for Coniagas Mines, and Red Lake Prospectors Syndicate, most of which parties tended to follow Ray Howey that is to the southwest. Jack St. Paul and a partner, however, re-staked the McManus group at Chukuni River, which had originally been staked in 1922 during a mild and erroneous silver rush.
The Cochenour brothers, after staking near the discovery group, moved about four miles north along the shoreline and finally staked what later became the Cochenour-Willans Gold Mine Limited.
A party under the late Alex Gillies was rushed in to do trenching and other surface work on the Howey. Jack St. Paul and partner, after enjoying Christmas dinner with Alex Gillies, went to the steel (term used for going to civilization, going to the rail road or going "outside") and wired Charles St. Paul (brother of Jack) to come to Quibell with dogs and outfit. Quibell was the jumping-off place for the earlier stampeders, but was abandoned later in favour of Hudson farther east, which made the trail longer but better travelling.
On arriving east, Major Dunlop immediately resigned from Coniagas to form his own syndicate. Jack Hammell succeeded in interesting Dome Mines in the Howey group and the entry of such a strong company onto the field took a grip on the public and precipitated the biggest rush since the Klondike in 1898.
Crates Aid Stampede
It deserves a place in mining history also as the last of the old-fashioned stampedes of dog-team and toboggan. Two old planes--they were referred to as "crates" for obvious reasons--made their appearance during these hectic days and were the pioneers of the present day airborne bush travel.
January 1926 saw the early stakers of the field. Charles St. Paul and partners staked Gold Shore, adjoining Howey to the west. Major Dunlop staked from Chukuni River east of McManus, north to Balmer Lake, a total of 47 claims for three syndicates: Dunlop Red Lake, Toronto Red Lake and the Patricia Exploration Syndicate.
I did not arrive at Hudson until March, having put in the winter at a logging camp. As Red Lake was the chief topic of discussion, I reasoned there should be no shortage of work. What attracted my attention most, outside of the bustling mass of humanity, was the number of dogs in the vicinity. There must have been more than two hundred of them, all sizes, breeds and colours, tethered hither and yon from the lakeshore to the top of the hill behind the town. It was hard to find a tree stump without a dog attached to it and one and all made music by day and night.
There were three places to sleep: Keneally's hotel, the floor of the Hudson's Bay Company store, and the train station waiting room. The hotel cost real money. The floor of the Hudson's Bay Store cost a dollar a night, so after working all winter for $26-$30 a month, I decided to keep my few dollars and spent the night occupying a tract of floor about two feet by four feet in the station waiting room. What sleep I had was definitely terminated by four in the morning when various parties, desirous of making an early start, began to trek outside to cook breakfast. Although I was near a corner of the waiting room, it seemed no one was able to get outside without walking on me, so I decided to get a breath of fresh air myself, not a bad idea, as can easily be imagined although it was plenty cold outside.
Besides the hotel dining room there were two buildings, which had hastily been converted into restaurants, although many of the prospectors did their own cooking in the great outdoors. As dawn broke, I saw a plane on the ice and strolled down to look it over. It was a double cockpit open job and looked much like the planes I had seen in France not so many years previous. Incidentally, this plane was to crash about two weeks later only about two miles from Hudson on the same lake. Luckily there were no fatalities, but both pilot and passenger were badly injured. Out of curiosity I inquired the cost of transportation on this crate.
One Dollar a Pound
The rate was one dollar per pound, man and baggage, which meant that a man of average size, with an eiderdown and a few things in a packsack, would have to lay two hundred dollars on the barrelhead.
A little later in the day a stranger who asked if I intended going in approached me. I told him that was my intention, if I could find ways and means. He asked if I had ever driven a dog team. I neglected to tell him that it was only once, but I told him I had and I was hired on the spot to take a dog team with a toboggan load of supplies.
It appeared that he had a brother inside with a party, and the dog team was then on its way out and should arrive at Hudson that evening. My employer, whose name was Williams, wanted two men, so I guaranteed to find a partner for the trail, which I did in less than an hour--a big lad straight from a Manitoba farm whose chief attraction for me was a long heavy overcoat. The only bedding I possessed was a pair of lumberjack blankets decidedly inadequate for sleeping in the bush, but with that overcoat between them we could make out quite well.
Agreements were drawn up and signed in the Hudson Bay Company store. We were to receive seventy-five dollars a month, and board, and were allowed to retain one claim on our license. The remainders, including proxies, were to be the property of our employer, who jumped on the next train for Sioux Lookout after buying our load of supplies at the Hudson Bay store. He also had a sixteen-foot canoe at the station express office, which had to be taken in.
Trains of Prospectors
Meanwhile, every train was loaded with gold seekers, many suffering from a bout with John Barleycorn, for although Ontario was still dry, Winnipeg was very wet. On most of the trains some joker had chalked "Red Lake or Bust.” With the men, of course, came more dogs, and the resultant din of dog fights, drunks, howling dogs, whistling trains and roaring planes, I'm sure made Hudson, for a few weeks, the noisiest town on earth.
That evening, my partner and I went to Keneally's Hotel and found our dog team had been duly delivered there. I am afraid we gazed at them and at one another in silence for a long time. They sure were a nondescript bunch, only one of the six bearing any resemblance to the breed usually associated with dog-harness, and that one so thin you could spit through him. One was definitely an Airedale and as for the rest, anyone's guess is good. Anyway, we made them a good feed and once more made for the station waiting room. After loading our toboggan with all but bedding and cooking gear we staked out our sleeping space for the night.
Next morning we got up before dawn, cooked breakfast and were on our way. As the town dropped out of sight behind us I could not help but think of the adage "fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” We were two of a kind, green as green paint, without a compass or a map between us, but we had one pair of lumberjack blankets and a good thick overcoat.
However, it was easy to follow the trail. When we came to a fork, we took the more travelled branch, although if one waited in doubt, it wouldn't be long before someone passed going out or going in. It is hardly necessary to state that many budding reporters and journalists wrote reams about this venture and certainly some had allowed their imagination to run riots. In Winnipeg, I know not what paper, I had read that the trail to Red Lake was blazed with dead dogs. I didn't see one although there may have been some covered with snow. I did, however, see what to my mind was infinitely worse. More than once we passed dogs suffering from distemper, which had been left to die. If anything blazed the trail to Red Lake, it was--of all things--painkiller bottles. There must have been hundreds of "short snorts" taken on that trail.
Mush you S.O.B.
Another enthusiastic and budding journalist played up the "Red Lake or Bust" slogan as being on everyone's lips, but I'm willing to go on record in stating that another slogan, although by no means new, obtained better results and was far more responsible for men achieving their goal. That slogan was "Mush you S.O.B.'s!" and could be heard from one end of any lake to the other, through the bush, from hill to hill and in the muskegs between, from early dawn until dusk.
The Red Lake rush may have been the greatest since the Klondike, but from what we read in books the resemblance ends there. Far from regarding other men as competitors, the crowd seemed to accept one another as neighbours and while of necessity there was hustle and enthusiasm, it was governed by common sense. To my knowledge no one ever found himself in trouble without also finding many willing hands to help him on his way. In like manner, the courtesy of the trail was observed. On being overtaken by a faster team the man ahead would pull off the trail at the first opportunity and allow the faster team to go ahead. Those coming out would be travelling light and would invariably pull out to allow those going in to pass. Dog fights, or perhaps one should say team fights, occurred occasionally, the settling of which required the use of both hands, both feet and anything one could grab in the way of a lethal weapon.
Twenty Five Cents a Night
The first day of travelling brought us to Lac Seul, Hudson Bay Post where for 25¢ one could sleep on the floor of the bunkhouse, a building empty but for a stove. The second day's journey was about twenty-five miles across Lac Seul. The stowing of a sixteen-foot canoe on a ten-foot toboggan had occasioned a little difficulty. After trying various ways, we decided the easiest way was to place a sack of flour at the rear end of the toboggan and just lash the canoe on top, right side up, and dump the rest of the load into the canoe. This dispensed with the troublesome task of unloading at night and lashing up again next morning.
One Dollar a Night
The second night saw us at Sand's Fish Camp, where an enterprising fellow from Sioux Lookout had built in a few pole bunks and cut a big pile of cook stove wood. He charged a dollar a night. If you reached there early, your reward was a bunk; if not, your dollar got you a flop on the deck. However, it was good to get the use of a cook stove with wood already out. Dog food had to be cooked outdoors. At this camp I first met Tommy Powell, who, through his discovery of the Powell-Rouyn had helped to spark the boom in the Rouyn camp. He was returning to his latest find in Woman Lake, the discovery that occasioned the rush to that particular district.
The next day we reached Gold Pines, which was known then as Pine Ridge, and was just another Hudson Bay Post. From here on the traffic thinned out somewhat, as many took the trail north to the new field of Woman Lake. Indeed, many who started for Red Lake changed their plans by the time they reached Pine Ridge, and in view of the number who had preceded them, decided their chances might be better in the newer camp. There was to be hot rivalry between the two camps during the first couple of years, especially as there were more discoveries made in Woman Lake during that time than Red Lake.
One_Armed Prospector
It was at Pine Ridge that I met a one-armed prospector, having the old-fashioned hook where his left hand should have been. He was very adapt in its use, lashing a toboggan or using an axe with the best, and very useful in plucking out the boiling pots from the interior of the pot-bellied stove at which we did our cooking. It was also at this point that I heard of one enterprising old fellow, Tim Crowley of Quibell, who had brought a horse in over the dog trail hauling a toboggan. He eventually staked a part of what is now McKenzie Island Gold Mines.
After Pine Ridge we were forced to spend two nights in the bush. At this stage we began making inquiries from outgoing travellers as to the whereabouts of one Frank Williams, to whom we were to report and deliver our load. The third or fourth party we asked happened to know him and informed us his party was at an old fur farm on Gullrock Lake. We eventually arrived there on the evening of the sixth day after leaving the steel, having hiked every step of the way, as the load was far too heavy to permit us to ride.
During the last two days on the trail we noticed a number of Indians with dog teams either going out empty or going in loaded. We learned the reason for this. The hungry horde of stakers had put an unprecedented strain on the resources of the Hudson Bay Trading Post and cleaned it out like a plague of grasshoppers. The Indians were being paid seven dollars per hundred for freighting in fresh supplies.
Palatial Accommodation
The ex-fur farm proved to be a group of three cabins in various stages of dilapidation, but after the trail the finest hotel could not have looked better. Our party, consisting of our new boss, Frank Williams, one other prospector, and we two new arrivals, occupied the best cabin. The other two cabins were crowded with rather a mixed bunch, among whom, apparently, the only way to wake up with all one's belongings was to pin them to one's person before going to bed.
The following day Williams sent the three of us north to Ranger Lake to stake. We took the dog team with tent and grub and eventually located open ground on the North Shore adjacent to where the late Jack Munro was busily staking. Three days later, having staked eighteen claims, according to the old regulations, three on our own licence and three on each of two proxy licenses, we returned to Gullrock and the following day headed for Red Lake to record.
The common camping ground was the muskeg at the south end of Howey Bay where the little creek flows into the bay. This would be about the centre of the community of tents and there were hundreds of them pitched cheek to jowl all the way from the shoreline--all sizes, shapes and colours. At all hours of the day some party would be striking their tent to pull out and the idea was to grab their tent-site with the bedding brush already cut if you were quick enough. The Recording Office was a tent pitched on the shoreline and here the fun began.
Hectic Claims Recording
First of all there were no blueprints left and any that one could borrow were so far outdated as to be practically useless. The second and worse blow was that no more application forms were available. You had to write your own forms or you couldn't record any staking. Upon asking for application blanks the recorder, Bert Holland, would hand one application blank and a flock of foolscap with instructions to return the application form for someone else to copy from. If you have never witnessed a grizzled old bushwhacker trying to copy all the printing on an application form with a carpenter's pencil, which was what most of them used for staking, then you have certainly missed something. Fortunately, a large tent had been erected at the foot of Howey Hill in preparation for the teamsters who were expected to arrive with the first sleigh train from Hudson. I retired there with a bundle of foolscap and, thank heaven, not a marking pencil but a writing pencil.
It was at this bright moment that I learned the boss had a total of eighty_four claims more, sixty of which were not yet recorded, and further, that the rest of our party could not do much more with a pencil than sign their own name.
“Snoose” Causes Labour Crisis
There were two men from Florida, who had come in armed with a portable typewriter, in the hope of selling a write-up of the new camp. They now turned their efforts to typing application forms for a dollar each. By making three or four carbon copies they made real wages for a while.
Life during those days was anything but dull, and about that time the first labor troubles hit the new camp. It had nothing to do with hours or wages. It concerned the cutting of wood for the steam-driven diamond drills. Most of the woodcutters were Finns, and there came a day when the warehouse ran out of snoose. The woodcutters indignantly laid down their axes and saws and declared "No snoose--No wood.” The next plane to land in the bay was at once commandeered to bring in a load of Copenhagen, and when it arrived everything was rosy again.
Icy Underwater Rescue
Several fellows with sufficient energy and enthusiasm pulled their own toboggan or sleigh in from the railroad. Among the number was the late Ed Patterson, who was well on in years, having experienced the Klondike rush in '98. Another was Joe Biron, who was also quite a character. While pulling his toboggan toward the Pipestone Bay area he went through the ice and his toboggan sank. Joe was a physical culture fiend and realizing that all his worldly possessions were at the bottom of the lake, he stripped off his clothes on the ice, as he explained later "so he could swim more better,” and took a header through the hole in the ice and came up with his toboggan. Joe was a hard man to stop.
Some days later the first horse teams arrived. They belonged to the Red Lake Transportation Company, formed by Ken McDougall and his brother Archie. As the teamsters rounded the bend into Howey Bay the teamsters whipped up their horses in a race for the honor of being the first teamster to arrive. With the arrival of the teams came Neil Faulkenham with a load of supplies and he set up a store in a large tent near Hammell's Narrows. It was expensive freighting and prices were high. From seventy-five cents to a dollar per pound for butter, lard, bacon, or a dozen eggs may not sound so outrageous in this day and age, but in those days a dollar was worth a hundred cents. Wages at that time were two dollars per day and board for surface labor.
There was little done in the way of prospecting during those days, with about three feet of snow on the ground, except that everyone was hoping for good results from the Dome and McIntyre Drilling. The whole idea was to stake, stake, and stake again. From March 21st to April 21st more than 3,000 claims were recorded. By break-up that spring the district was staked solid from west of Pipestone Bay to east of Gullrock Lake, and from far north of East Bay to south of Faulkenham Lake.
Horses are Expensive
Break-up brings the aforementioned horse back into the news. Afraid of being caught without feed, the owner sent out a frantic order for hay and oats to be flown in. Upon arrival the pilot presented the bill, the exact amount of which I am not sure but somewhere in the vicinity of seventy-five dollars. At the look on the old prospector's face the pilot explained that flying a plane was an expensive proposition. The prospector was not amused. Turning the plane around for the take-off, the pilot got stuck in slush. At someone’s suggestion, he sent for the horse to pull him out. "How much do I owe you, Mac?" cried the pilot happily, after his plane had been hauled to dry snow. "Seventy-five bucks!" said Tim Crowley, without batting an eye "Feeding a horse up here's a damn expensive proposition.”
Near Starvation at Break-Up
The break-up of ‘26 we spent at Snake Falls, putting up a building, which was to be a stopping place. We almost starved waiting for a planeload of grub, which never came, and when the ice was gone we headed for Pine Ridge. We never did collect our wages, and we split up to look for a job. After a few weeks working at odd jobs, which were plentiful, I hired out to work for the late Major Cunningham-Dunlop who had staked the ground now known as McFie, Detta, Dickenson, Brewis and Abino. Three companies owned this ground and each pulled off after working them for a couple of years and bringing them to patent.
Good Ground Runs Open
Many may wonder why this ground was allowed to run open after good money had been expended. It must be remembered that conditions and methods of that day cannot be compared with those of the present. In the first place the idea prevailed that with the camp so far from steel, operation costs would be high and that any ore running less than $10.00 per ton could not be considered. With the price of gold at $20.60 per ounce, that meant half an ounce of ore. Another factor to be considered was the high cost of diamond drilling. In 1927 Dunlop Consolidated Mines paid $8,000 for 2,000 feet of drillin--$4 per foot, and the reason the price was so low was the fact that the drills were already in the country. The same drills had performed the Dome Drilling on Howey. A systematic cross sectional campaign such as is carried out today would have resulted in a bill the size of a war debt.
Beehive of Activity
During the summer of '26 the country was a beehive of activity and every mile of shoreline could boast at least one camp. Mail was carried by canoe and arrived once a week. For a quarter one could send mail by Patricia Airways, the one hitch being that the missive might lie at the Post Office for a week waiting for a plane.
Two nurses and a doctor were stationed in a tent near the site of the Recording Office and a little farther along the shore a lone member of the Ontario Provincial police. On a tiny island out in the bay just in front of the Howey Dam was the tent, which housed the equipment at the Camp's first "Home Brew" manufacturer. After rolling up the walls of his tent he could lie at ease on his bed roll and had any official looking canoe ventured too close, by merely straightening his leg, the evidence would be kicked into the lake.
In June, owing to the staking fever shifting to Woman Lake, the Recording Office was moved to Pine Ridge where already the Imperial Bank had opened for business in a tent.
Explosion Kills Faulkenham
In August of that summer, Neil Faulkenham, whose little tent store was doing a land office business, was accidentally killed while returning a few sticks of powder to his powder house. The story regarding his death was that a prospector returned the powder as no good--too many misfires. All anyone knows is that an explosion was heard and Neil Faulkenham was found with his body blown apart.
In September the Camp received what most considered was the K.O. punch. Dome Mines dropped their option on the Howey property and in October the last canoe load left for the railroad. The pall of gloom, which hung over the camp may be better imagined than described, and the exodus was almost as speedy as had been the influx the previous spring. Some, however, when the closing of prospect camps threw then out of jobs, decided to stay in and trap for the winter, as did some die-hards who were working their own claims. Several paddled canoes all the way to Hudson for winter supplies, in order to buy cheap and thus save money. I was fortunate in being left at the Dunlop camp cutting a little wood and preparing the camp for the diamond drill campaign, which was due to commence in the new year. I also bought a trapping licence by which I may have made tobacco money, certainly not much more.
That fall the Hudson’s Bay Company Trading Post was moved from Post Narrows to a point north of Howey Bay now known as Johnson's Point. The Post Office was kept open under the original postmaster, the late Bill Brown. Mail after freeze-up was brought in two relays from Hudson by dog team--first to Pine Ridge and thence to Red Lake once every ten days. The postmaster now branched out into the store and fur buying business.
Christmas Day Gathering
On Christmas Day, practically the little band of exiles from all over the lake congregated at the Hudson Bay Post. Sandy McIntyre, Two-bits Cowan and Jack Logan were among them as was Buck Coulee. Someone popped up with three or four gallons of what was termed "home made beer" and the Christmas spirit just embraced everyone. A rifle meet was held in the afternoon but I'm sure no world records were broken.
Life certainly seemed full of surprises, both pleasant and unpleasant, and just after the New Year death visited the community under strange circumstances, and thereby hangs quite a story.
Prospector Frozen on Toboggan
A prospector answering to the name of Joe Millar (which was an alias) was trapping from an island at the mouth of Howey Bay, and suffered a heart attack while travelling his trapline. He managed to lie on his toboggan and the dogs headed for home. Just when and where death actually occurred will never be known but Bill Brown, the postmaster, heard the dogs howling for over twenty-four hours and sent an Indian over to investigate. The dogs had pulled up at the door of the cabin and Joe Millar was on the toboggan frozen stiff.
The Postmaster, who had known Joe previously, sent word to his family, informing them of his death and asking instruction concerning disposal of the body. He was requested to ship the body out and after sending word for a plane, wrapped the corpse in a blanket and sat down to wait. About a week later, the plane, a Curtiss Lark, arrived piloted by an ex R.A.F. World War I veteran. It was two cockpit open job and Joe's mortal remains were hoisted aboard, but the fuselage only came to half way up his thighs and the pilot figured the load far too top heavy and it being in the forward cockpit obscured his vision. The question of doubling up the body was broached but the combined forces of rigor mortis and 55 below zero weather ruled that out. Then Bill Brown came out with an idea, which was not surprising, as he certainly was full of them--some good, some bad, but always ideas. His solution was to saw the body in two and as a coffin was already waiting at the railroad.
Never Fails, Corpse Remains Intact
Joe was taken from the plane and laid across a saw horse, Bill Brown took one handle of a crosscut saw, gave the other end to the very dubious pilot and they started to work. Two strokes of the saw went through the blanket and the third stroke brought out a few strands of khaki frieze breeches at which the pilot dropped his end of the saw and declared the idea null and void. After another consultation the solution was surprisingly simple. The corpse was slid head first into the cockpit and a turn of haywire around the legs and around the fuselage held it rigid and the pilot duly delivered the body at Hudson all in one piece and not, I am sure, without a heartfelt sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, news kept filtering in regarding the formation of Howey Gold Mines Ltd., and in February 1927 rumor became reality when sinking equipment was brought in and under management of H.G. Young, the hope of a mine on Howey was realized. Although it is common knowledge that once started it never closed, there were certainly many obstacles to be overcome both before and after the advent of Hydro power, which necessitated the building of a dam and power house at Ear Falls.
Howey Activity Revives Camp
However, the return of activity to the Howey property revived the whole camp and the summer of '27 saw the return of many parties to the scene of previous summer's work, and many new discoveries were made at McKenzie, Cochenour, Martin McNeeley, Lake Rowan and various other places. Yet it was to Woman Lake that the bulk of the interest and all-important finances were directed and shaft-sinking preparations were commenced at Jackson Manion, Bathurst, Dunkin and Bobjo. I went over that summer to Woman Lake and did not return to Red Lake until the following spring during which time a sinking plant had arrived for the Gold Shore Mine.
The Smith-Morrison group under the new name of Red Mammoth also sank a shaft that year. The mine eventually became McMarmac. The summer of '28 saw the erection of the dam and powerhouse at Ear Falls near Pine Ridge. The name Pine Ridge was now changed to Gold Pines and what a rowdy camp that was for a few months. There wasn't much in the way of pleasure or strife that a fellow could not get if he wanted it. The wonder is there weren't many fatalities. One party well-inebriated left for Red Lake in a canoe and woke up some four hours later on a sand bar in the river about three miles out of town; their motor had run dry.
Court Cases Common
Court cases were common but Bert Holland, who was the magistrate as well as recorder, was very lenient and seemed to take an almost fatherly interest in some of the lawbreaker. A certain elderly night watchman on the construction project was altogether too fond of John Barleycorn. It was arranged that he be picked up for drunkenness, brought before his Honor, and given a tongue lashing by that official that he would remember for some time. "Sweeney" roared Bert Holland "we all like to drink, we all take a drink and sometimes we take a little more than is good for us, dammit-all man you drink too much!"
"B-b-b-b- Mr. Holland" interrupted the inebriate, who had been well fortified with an eye_opener, "Mr. Holland, there isn't too much.” The magistrate couldn't keep a straight face and dismissed the case with the promise of a stiff sentence if the prisoner appeared before him again.
Howey Carries on After Crash
Things were quiet during 1929 and not many prospects were worked. That fall saw the stock market crash and for a few years the Howey was the lone beacon in an otherwise defunct district. Some properties admittedly did a little surface work but Howey alone did underground development until 1933 when McKenzie Island commenced sinking operations. Howey had become a producer in spring of 1930 which summer also saw the first Red Lake bush fire. Fortunately few houses were destroyed but among them was Jack Hammell's cabin at Hammell Narrows. The Gold Shore sinking equipment and hundreds of cords of wood also were destroyed. From the sinking of McKenzie shaft the camp moved forward steadily and in 1934 west Red Lake, Gold Eagle, Gold Shore, Lake Rowan, Red Crest and Cole Gold Mines all carried out underground operation, as also did Cochenour Willans under Hollinger option.
Second Boom Year
Nineteen thirty-four was the second boom year for Red Lake but still life was far from being one sweet song. Conigas had refused McKenzie Island, Hollinger turned down Cochenour-Willans as they had turned down Red Mammoth in 1931. The year 1934 also saw the opening of the first Movie Theater and that, which caused much greater celebration, a Hotel, complete with Beverage Room. Civilization was here to stay.
By 1935, many of the properties closed through lack of capital, but Madsen continued working and sank their first shaft. The following year, 1936, saw another and bigger boom. Diamond drilling was getting less expensive and much surface work was performed. Lake Rowan and Red Crest reopened, May-Spiers, Frontier, and Faulkenham sank shafts and Howey fumbled their options on Madsen. Shortly thereafter Jack Hammell purchased the old McIntyre property, which had lain idle since 1926 and offered it to Howey, an offer which was refused. This resulted in formation of the Hasaga. From that period on through the war years the camp just held its own when came the greatest boom of all in 1944, which is too recent to be dealt with at length. Suffice to say three producers came into being, Starratt-Olsen, Campbell and Dickenson. Lake Rowan also reopened. The writer was asked to record the early history of the Camp, but found it difficult to know when to quit.
Seven Producing Mines
The trouble with this camp is that the members of the community do not realize the importance of their own district. Last year, 1944, according to Toronto "Globe and Mail" there were 44 producing Mines in Ontario, when one considers there are seven in this district, that feeling of importance is quite pardonable in any Red Laker, and the beauty of it is, there are many more still in the ice box.
H.G. Young Mines, McFinley, Abino, Red Arum, West Red Lake, Red Crest, Cole Gold Mines, with more or less proven are bodies, and countless other groups with good surface showings, still owned by prospectors. This winter marks the 25th anniversary of the Camp and it will be very interesting to watch the developments of the next quarter of a century.
Pioneers Now Few in Numbers
Regarding those who came in over the trail in '26 and remained, there are still a few around but they have been passing on in the last years and their number grows pitifully small. I am sure, however, that one and all are thankful for the providence which directed their stops to this district where the hard days of the depression were something one read about and where with the exception of a few little set-back, living has steadily become more pleasant as the years slip astern. I also think it is the wish of most to be able to remain for many years to come.
The End
The Red Lake Regional Heritage Centre is a charitable organization, funded by the Municipality of Red Lake and the Ontario Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Recreation. Reg # 87315 2714 RR001
