Chapter 3

I had to slow down by the feed mill when a man walked out in front of me with a bag of feed over his shoulder. It appeared that he didn't care about traffic, or about one boy on a bike. The feed was thrown into the back seat of an old Cadillac convertible. A friend had one, and if I was right this was one of those 1922 torpedo models.

I stopped altogether, and got off the road and onto the sidewalk. Another man threw a bag into the back seat and I walked the bike closer. The paint was almost all gone from the metal. A faint patina of rust shone through, but I saw no holes. A running board was in the back seat with the feed. The top was folded back into place and couldn't be seen. Some places on the body sported small bird and, probably, chicken shit. Being from a farm gave me great insight into this decoration.

The man who first blocked me came out with another bag and threw it in. The next man did the same thing. They then shook hands, and thanks were given for help rendered. The driver got into the almost thirty-year-old car, and on impulse I moved forward.

"Hello, sir. It is nice to see how these old cars are holding together."

The man looked at me and then decided to talk instead of leaving. "Yes they do. This one I just got. Paid twenty dollars for it."

"I think you got a deal."

"You are wrong, sonny. It would cost two or maybe two hundred and fifty dollars to get this car fixed up. Paint, a new top, and the seats are f... the seats are damaged over the years it was stored. I saw a similar one a few weeks ago for sale and they wanted a hundred and fifty for it, and it was in good shape. I could have got it for less, though."

I asked, "But two hundred and fifty would make it look like a new car?"

"Suppose so, but that is still a lot of money for an old vehicle. They are not really worth it. Just buy a newer one. My brother just bought a new Ford, and it cost 2100 dollars, and that is a lot of money."

"When they get rare, then they will be worth more money."

"You might be right, son, but who wants an old car. I am just using it because it is cheap transportation."

I thought hard now. The man was right. Antiques were not sought after. It took more of a disposable income to make this endeavour common. I had more than enough money to buy a 1922 Cadillac. Twenty-five dollars might get this one. The body was sound, and as the man said it would cost two hundred and fifty dollars to put back into good but not perfect shape. With five hundred dollars, I could probably get original equipment put on this car and store it in building with a concrete floor and sell this car for a hundred thousand dollars in 2004.

The temptation was very strong but I said, "Thank you, sir, for your time. The car though would look beautiful if it were restored to mint condition."

The man looked at his Cadillac-turned-feed-truck and said, "Yes it would, but it's not worth it."

At ten o'clock my bike was locked in an alley and I was sitting in the offices of MacNeil and Associates. The room was filled with filing cabinets. A typewriter and a steno machine were nearby.

Derrick MacNeil's secretary, Clarice, was hesitant to allow her first potential client of the day in to see her boss. She saw that the boy had a small backpack on his lap and looked to be skipping through a month old copy of 'Look' magazine. With no other clients coming, Clarice said, "What can I do for you, son?"

"Hello! My name is Alex Kramer. I believe Mr. MacNeil handled my family's estate when my parents passed away two years ago. I have come to see if the solicitor will assist me in forming a new corporation."

"A corporation... ? Don't you mean a company?"

"I am sorry for stretching what you would see as my credibility, but I meant what I said. We live outside the city, and at the moment we do not have a telephone service. That is why I am here unannounced. Will you kindly ask if he has a few minutes to see me?"

Clarice got up from her desk and entered the door to Derrick's office. At this time of the morning he was not usually at his best, especially if he was getting over his drunk of the weekend.

"Mr. MacNeil, there is a boy outside whom you once represented, he says. He wants to retain you to get a corporation going."

Derrick had shaved and showered, but still felt like shit. There was no other court cases today, and only a few wills to be drawn up. With nothing really to loose he said, "Send the boy in."

I got up and walked into the room, as Clarice held the door open for me. I walked up to the man and held out my right hand. "Alex Kramer, Mr. MacNeil."

Derrick stood, so he could reach over the clutter on his desk to shake the strange boy's hand. The lad appeared to be around eleven or so, but his quiet voice and stance made him look much older. As he shook the outstretched hand the lawyer said, "Glad to meet you." When he sat back down he continued. "Have a seat and tell me how I can help you."

I went into a detailed description of the aims of my corporation. It was actually a holding company for other, as yet unnamed, corporations that I would need in the future. Another corporation was to be formed to take care of some local mining interests. The statement of facts were quite specific and touched on many ways to protect the corporations. Many would not have been heard of before this time.

After only six minutes, I paused to give the lawyer a chance to speak. "Well, young man, that certainly is a very in-depth proposal for a corporation, but for this to come about, I require far more than what a young man like you can supply. I remember your parents, and I also remember that they were far from wealthy when they passed on."

I stood up and took the assay analysis from my pocket and placed it on his desk. He looked at the pertinent data and saw how much I must have. The rest of the morning we discussed ways in which I could get stiffed because I had not reached the age of majority. We went for lunch, and I had a good meal that didn't encompass the usual teen love of fried potatoes and burgers.

When we left, I paid the bill and kept a receipt. Clarice had to phone the two parties coming later in the afternoon, and we went back to what was currently in vogue when it came to legal matters. A subtle request for the location was met by one of my better icy stares, and this matter was dropped. He knew that I suspected the mine to be worth in excess of five million dollars after I recovered all the easily obtainable nuggets. I did not divulge the value of the nuggets I could recover, and that could be millions more. Most of this was in the form of premiums paid on the raw nuggets. They had been destroyed the first time, and I was determined to get them whole this time around.

The American government had made it illegal for their citizens to buy gold to horde. They did make an exception in the case of nuggets. When this fact was added to the human need to possess the metal, the premium could go from three to possibly six times the price of gold. That was why I felt so bad about getting rid of the nugget I just sold. To get the business going, more gold could be bartered for what we needed. I would hate to use the nuggets, when dust or flakes would do the same thing. But the sad fact was that humans reacted more to the nuggets, for some reason. The gold was supposed to be sold to the government or accounted for, so that it could be taxed. Taxes were a necessary thing, but I hated all the government inefficiency and waste.

"Mr. MacNeil, I believe that there is a substantial amount of gold on my claim. When this becomes public knowledge, there will be a gold rush in this area. I would like to take advantage of this situation. I didn't like to sell the nugget that went to the government, but it did substantiate that the claim is viable. I should have no problems getting the Department of Mines to allow the claim."

"What would you like to do about it?"

"Some gold will have to be placed in a bank as collateral for my line of credit. I can't see this being kept a secret once that happens. People will come to the city and look for a place to stay; prospecting equipment of all kinds will also be in high demand. The city will prosper in many ways. I just want to be in on it. I would be a poor businessman if I simply ignored this situation."

"I want to buy into the coming boom, and I need far more cash than I can presently acquire. I am proposing a small partnership with you. I supply some gold, and you get me some properties that I would like. The properties themselves will be mortgaged to the hilt. Hotels and motels are my current focus. If I could, I would simply lease the buildings for a year. Their profitability would be greatest in the short term."

"Apartment buildings come under another umbrella, along with large homes converted to housing tenants. These I want purchased. The economy is not that good at the moment, but it should improve substantially in the future. A warehouse is needed to house the prospecting supplies for the new arrivals. This I want to mortgage, because I will need the building later for other things I want to do. Next would be a retail outlet to sell the goods I purchased before the boom comes along. A hardware store, is best and perhaps the current owner and employees can be encouraged to stay on for a year."

"The prospecting goods can be ordered through this establishment after it is mine. I believe we will have to stockpile a substantial amount, because people from all over the continent will be coming here to find their own fortunes."

"First of all... , why just a year?"

"I cannot see the boom lasting much longer than that."

"What would my stake be in this endeavour?"

"I plan on buying only ten to fifteen million in properties. The banks will hold the mortgages. I can safely handle that kind of debt load with the first line of credit. Your share will be five percent. If you put in your own money, it will of course, increase that percentage. The partnership will dissolve in two years in any case, and the assets will be disposed of."

The lawyer looked like he was getting in far over his head. "Let me think more on this, and we can talk later. Perhaps I can come up with some of my own ideas."

With only three hundred dollars put on the desk, the ball would now start to roll. Mom and dad would have to sign the papers once they were made up. Derrick would have to come to the house for this. With the corporation in place, I could actively control the mining venture. Derrick himself would get some control as my representative, but I, personally, could switch to mom or dad if I found his ethics lacking.

Dad was not going to be my representative in this matter, and he would resent the fact and think that I did not trust him enough. His other new duties as mine manager would not make him feel too much better.

The secondary business as partner with Derrick to purchase much of this city would soon start. I had many plans, and this was as good as any other place as a base to my future empire.

Two days later, dad handed in his notice. Work was hard to find just after the war, and he was called a fool for giving up a steady job. The remaining piece of gold was grudgingly given to Derrick MacNeil to start our first purchases. He knew a deal when it fell in his lap, and would get the best price possible for the large nugget. He already had contacts to buy the gold. They were far from North Bay. We also got a small amount of cash for our own equipment purchases. We both knew that this was illegal, because the government wanted its share. Whether it deserved it or not was another matter. Taxes served a necessary purpose, but bureaucrats and politicians spent it like water.

We put money down to rent a small dozer, a front-end loader, and a flatbed. At the end of the week we were ready to move. Dad and mom had signed the papers I wanted. I explained to them and the lawyer, how I would react if some odd things started to happen. Everybody was upset, but I explained my reasoning better and they came to the conclusion that it was sound business practice.

I drove the 1939 Ford half ton, with dad and grandpa beside me. The box in back had the equipment for clearing the provincial road allowance. The fact that I did not have a licence didn't seem to bother anyone now. It was comical, in a way, to have the two older men relinquish their authority to me to drive this old vehicle.

We drove off in the general area of the gold, constantly looked to see if we were being followed. Claim jumpers were very uncommon, but it could happen as it did when law and order were more of a hope than a reality. Dad and grandpa got out like a well-rehearsed team: pulled the branches back and I drove into the brush. When we were in a hundred yards, the stopped the truck. We began to clean the road to take the flatbed when we picked it up. We made it to the place where we had to leave the road the last time. We entered the bush to get to where our claim would be.

That night, we had a small fire and had an enjoyable camp out. We had no intentions of leaving till the important things were done. I was stiff from the work, not due to the amount I had done, but to the condition I was in when I did it.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of cooking. Dad was up, and wanted to get an early start. To tell the truth, so did grandpa and I did too. The next part was much harder to do, for the area had not been cleared since the last fire almost sixty years earlier. Power saws were available, but they made too much noise. We wanted to get the claim settled before we had any unwelcome company. That night we were all exhausted, and the skin on my back was killing me. We did get to the upthrust of rock, and dad and grandpa worked on it to see if there were any more nuggets. They were as happy as children when the found a few small pieces that would only add up to an ounce.

I walked a hundred more yards, took off my clothes and swam in the cold river. Well, it felt cold after the exhausting work we had done. Ten minutes later two naked adults joined me. It was fun now, as if it were a 'boys-only' club. We were happy that night, and dad passed around a bottle. I was even offered a bit, which I accepted. It burnt like I remembered it would, but I did not let it show. After only one more round the bottle, thankfully, was put away.

The next morning we measured where we wanted the major claim to be. I'd had MacNeil get the maps for this area and six more. We erected posts with some stones around them to show the corners. Each corner got this cairn with a post. The posts were marked with sheet metal tags, with our claim number impressed deep into it. The lines between corners were paced off, and the trees and brush cleared in between. This time, there was no need for test drilling.

With this done, we had a chance to clear most of the first hundred yards on the abandoned road before racing back to North Bay to complete the registration of our claim. A stop at a public phone booth got MacNeil to the registrar's office, and he assured that every 't' was crossed and every 'i' dotted. We wanted the full 40 acres of the claim, but also 20 acres that covered the other side of the road. This would get the overburden, and in another area, the soil we would filter for the gold. Much of the gold would be missed and this pile could be sold later with the claim.

The next day, after a long, hot bath, we again went to work. The flatbed had been loaded, and the dozer and the front-end loader chained down. A large tank full of diesel fuel was ready for the thirsty beasts. Mom, grandma, Helen and Aron came with me, while dad and grandpa drove the big truck. We had an hour of lead-time, and all five of us were able to clear the last ten yards of saplings from the road allowance when dad drove up. He had a bit of trouble manoeuvring into the narrow road but did a good job of getting the large vehicle to do as he wanted. We parked on the road, and only the dozer came in to work. I pointed out the best place to push the overburden, and dad actually did not argue but just pushed the material across the road where I wanted.

Late in the afternoon grandpa had to get his turn on the dozer, and the two piles of alluvial rock and soil were pushed aside. I saved the important work for the end. Once the soil around another upthrust of rock was cleared, we saw a pillar of granite with quartz showing in some places. It was about fifty feet in length by forty wide, and rose close to twenty feet. The base went through a granite bed that would give us serious trouble without blasting. The base was almost a level rock surface, and stretched hundreds of feet in all directions, and I knew it went even further back toward the road.

Mom was very excited, and so was grandma, though she tried to pretend otherwise. Dad brought the front-end loader in, and managed with some chain to rip another section of rock down. We were lucky, for this had a few ounces on small gold nuggets, but not nearly the massive nuggets hiding within the rock before us. Twenty feet down was an even richer area but, sadly, it was all in smaller pieces.

Grandpa grabbed a sledgehammer and broke some of the larger pieces of quartz and granite up. The women went crazy digging through the rubble looking for gold. There was a small bit of flakes but not enough to worry about. I had them put the flakes they found into a glass jar to keep it from being lost. The mining firm that would eventually purchase this property would strip this entire area again and recover even the smallest pieces.

Tomorrow, dad would have to go to town. It became clear we were going to need a lot more supplies and equipment.

I had brought along our corn screen that we had used for hand cleaning corn kernels. The corn screen was about two foot square, and had a four-inch band around it to hold the corn in, and to give it rigidity. I showed everyone the way to screen the dirt to find nuggets at a dry pile of soil. This got the whole crew started on the fun. Aron grabbed a shovel and started to put dirt into the screen. Dad and grandpa started to shake it as if controlling a bucksaw. The weight was so much that some had to be thrown out. Aron and Helen were right in there looking for nuggets. The screen had rather large openings for hand operation. Too much material simply went through it. As a trial, it did net two fair sized nuggets. I hoped their worth would be enough for dad to use for barter tomorrow. I hated to see the nuggets go. The flakes and dust were worth the same in weight, but the nuggets were many more times more valuable to collectors.

I told them that we would try to pick up a finer screen the next day. They all thought this was a grand idea. If we brought garden tools tomorrow, they could rake some of the ground around the outcrop and try to find many more nuggets that way.

It was starting to get dark, and we all packed up and headed back to the farm. This time, Aron rode in the truck with dad and grandpa. I hopped in the car with Mom, grandma and Helen. Tomorrow would be a very busy day.

We were going to have to think about getting some help, as well as some security at the mine. I didn't think we would have it that long before our gold, and especially the nuggets, would become common knowledge. Once the word got out, we would have problems keeping the curious and the greedy out. We had 40 acres around the hill and a good portion on the other side of the new road. This area was for the tailings. I knew that the gold was all within the claimed area and close to the hill.

On the way back to the farm, the women were all fired up about their 'berry picking' for gold tomorrow. The term came from Helen's fertile imagination. She was all wound up and talking about how much fun she'd had. I thought it was more like wild strawberry picking, myself, for all of the picking was on the ground. I was still snickering to myself about their reactions when we got home.

Inside the house the women rattled on about all the money they were going to make. I informed dad about some very large nuggets under the ground just a ways past the area of the outcrop we were working. I also told him we would have to be very careful about how we would blast.

He started in on me about how he was a miner and he knew how to blast. "Dad," I told him, "if you drill wrong and set the charge too heavy or too light, you will be throwing away as much as a million dollars." This set him back. He couldn't see how I could know this. To tell the truth, I was getting tired of explaining how I knew things and having to explain to him every time we were going to do something. In my other reality, the large gold nuggets were severely damaged, and I had no real idea what size they really were. The blast flung large pieces of gold all across the property and fractured some large pieces.

I was still worried about Helen and really wanted her to have a bath, but this was something I could not bring up with her. I went to Mom and tried to explain that if Helen got sick, it would be very bad and that taking a bath might help keep her from getting sick. While on the subject, I mentioned about poor diet and fatigue.

In these days, one bath a week was the norm. I knew that she died in my past because of a vaginal infection that had turned systemic. It had not been caught in time, and I knew that with a good dose of penicillin she probably would have lived. I wanted to make sure that she would this time. Mom said that she would have Helen take a bath, but Helen would want to know why. I was going to have to try and make everyone take more baths. I wanted all my loved ones to live much longer than they had in my other life.

We were all up bright and early the next day. Mom, grandma, Helen and Aron took off in the car right after breakfast. Mom was driving and she did not do this very well. Her lack of licence didn't bother her as my driving did not bother me. They took rakes from the barn, and were just about as wound up as could be with all the excitement. I could almost see them raking all 40 acres before we got there.

As dad, grandpa and I took off for town I tried to explain to dad what we would need. He started to get all huffy on me and told me to shut up, because he knew what he was doing, and I should keep out of the planning. I kept my temper, and explained again that I did know what I was doing, and that he would ruin the nuggets if he stayed on his track. I was very surprised when grandpa jumped in and told dad to keep quiet for a change and listen. "After all, who was it that had found the gold and showed how to get what we already had?" Dad was not one to argue with grandpa. He had found out a long time ago that grandpa was very stubborn when he wanted to be.

After we got to town, I told dad what we needed in powder, caps and fuse. I got a dirty look, but he went in to talk to the owner of the store. Dad told the man that we would need three 50-pound cases of high yield dynamite and two 50-pound cases of low yield. We would also need 100 caps. The fuses were harder to figure. You never knew how far the run would have to be, or the number of holes to be set. After some discussion we decided that 250 feet of slow burn would work. We also got 300 feet of ignitor fuse.

It took some haggling, but dad managed to get all we needed for the two nuggets we found yesterday. They were fairly large and would be worth more than the supply of powder and fuse we got. I was beginning to wonder if this barter system was going to work the way I wanted. The thought of so many people knowing about the gold worried me no end. Again, the thought of more help came to mind. I had the thought that maybe our priest would have an idea for help at the mine.

I convinced dad and grandpa that we were going to need more help and somebody to stand guard at the mine. When I told dad my idea about the church he thought that I had to have had an inspiration. So before we headed over to the next town for a compressor and a generator, as well as a drill, we stopped at the church. Father Cayer was not my favourite person in the world, but he was usually very fair and did take good care of his flock.

Dad started to tell Father Cayer about the mine and the gold. The priest just stared at dad like he could not believe we had a gold mine. As the story got more detailed, he kept looking at me as if I was some strange apparition. We did get him to understand that we needed help with security, and he suggested that we get the RCMP or Ontario Provincial Police to help. I explained that we really needed somebody to stay at the mine and watch it at night. Dad asked him, if there was anyone he knew that could help. After a bit of confusion, Father Cayer said he could find us at least two men who could do this. More were certainly welcome, but the flock had to be winnowed for the best.

The first man my father knew, Rolph Manz. He and dad had worked together at the mine, and the man had broken his hip in a rockslide. Because of the type of injury, he could not work in the mine any more. We were told that the family was at the very edge of destitution and really needed work. Dad had known him since childhood and was very sure he could trust him. Rolph's wife, Helga, had come over from the old country, and although she still spoke rather broken English. She was considered very honest. They had six children that had thankfully grown and left the nest. This would make their staying at the mine a lot easier.

The other man, Lester Lenz, also seemed trustworthy. He had no disability, but he had not found work. He was a sort of jack-of-all-trades and did do some work around town for those who could pay. He was not the most intelligent man in the world, but was as hard working and loyal as they came. Sometimes his only pay was a hot meal. He was single and lived in a small one-room apartment over the seed store. Working in the store below paid his rent. There was not a lot of work there for him to do, so there was little extra money in it.

Dad asked if the priest could talk to the men and set up a time tomorrow to talk to them. Father Cayer agreed that he would try. Dad said that it would be about five in the afternoon before he would be able to get back into town.

The next stop was fifteen miles away. There was a surplus store dealing in military surplus and older equipment from the mining industries. They also had a bit of new tools along with the majority of their mining surplus. We hoped to get a large compressor and a vertical drill, among other things. Some of the stock here could be purchased now and sold later at a much higher price.

The centre had almost everything we had hoped for, but we found that we didn't have enough to buy outright what we needed. We wandered around for quite a while. There was a compressor that was a little larger than we needed, but the extra capacity could come in handy, I felt. The best thing about it was that it ran on diesel fuel. This is what all the other equipment used, so we would have plenty.

In a back corner there was an old vertical drill. Now, I will grant that it was one of the largest they ever made for hand use, but the size only mattered when you had to move it. We had the front-end loader, so moving the heavy old beast would be no problem. We could tie a chain to it and use the bucket to lift it and move it around. It was mounted on a rather heavy tripod, and it was actually moved in three pieces. The tripod sat on the ground and had a bar brace across to each leg to act as a separator for each foot. The drill itself sat in the top of the tripod, in a sleeve made to hold it upright while drilling. The drill head itself could be raised and lowered on the tripod by air pressure in the air ram. When you put air in the ram, it lifted the head so that the drill could be locked into it. To drill, you would start the drill turning and let air out of the ram so the drill bit would rest on the ground. The less air pressure in the ram, the more weight was put on the bit.

We still had to look for a fair-sized water pump. Water had to be pumped down the drill shaft to cool it and to flush out the dust. I had envisioned a sluice and this, by itself, would take a considerable amount of water.

The only choice was a boot pump powered by a gasoline engine. It would also be adequate for most of our needs. The problem with this pump was the price. It was new and not surplus. Dad said that he didn't figure the owner would want to trade nuggets for new equipment. I took this to mean that the deal would have to go through the books.

Grandpa suggested that maybe we should try for some more nuggets at the mine first. He also said that it might be better to sell them and pay cash for all the equipment. This was something that I was in a bit of a quandary about. If we sold the gold, we would have to pay taxes. This was a loss of income, but still we then could operate with the cash more easily. It just took time to sell the gold with all the regulations. The other avenue was to take a substantial amount of gold to the bank and use it as collateral for a line of credit. That way we could actually borrow more than the value of the gold if we mortgaged the mine.

This would all have to be discussed later. We would go back to the mine and check the others. On the way out of the store we saw a big tent. Grandpa said we should get it for at the mine. It would get us out of the sun and rain. We could also use it for a sort of a guard shelter until we got a solid shelter up. It had a price tag of only eight dollars. We did have enough cash to buy, so we decided to take it.