 David Morrison Blaikie
A Nova Scotia
lumberman
1909-1976
22. Mill crew problems
A problem had developed over several years in hiring competent men. We
were fortunate in having a high percentage of really good mill men. But
occasional replacements had to be made, and also we had been increasing
our staff. This problem had come about gradually, and was destined to
become a great deal worse.
In the past, it wasn't difficult to hire men for any of the jobs
connected with our business. But now, for a great many men, pride in
their work had become a thing of the past. If a job required a fair
amount of physical strength and energy there were few applicants for it.
Two such jobs were those of canterman and lumber piler. The piling of
lumber was very simple, but it did require physical strength. It was
really a younger man's job. A canterman's job had the same requirement.
When a log was rolled onto the carriage, it needed to be turned to the
proper position for sawing. This required intelligence, strength and
co-operation.
A new situation
During all the period during which our business had operated, there had
never been much difficulty in hiring men. Some were better than others,
but to get a reasonably satisfactory man was no problem. Now it was
different. Most men when approached had definite views on the type of
work they wanted, which was logical enough.
But it became increasingly clear that the type of work they wanted,
didn't demand the expenditure of much muscular effort. Neither did they
wish it to be the type that demanded concentration. At the close of an
interview the impression often was that what they wanted wasn't a job at
all - just a pay-cheque.
As more years went by, this condition became rapidly worse, bringing a
change to more mechanized mills, and thus doing away with many of these
jobs. Yet a good number of mills, including our own, continued to
operate under the old system, and as each year went by, it became more
discouraging to try to keep a mill crew together. It is ironic that the
heavier jobs, really more suitable for younger people, were now nearly
always done by middle-aged or aging men.
Donald Burnett
Most of the younger men in our employ seemed all at once to develop
physical disabilities. I had never seen so many rugged looking,
strapping young people with sore backs and rheumatic shoulders.
Fortunately we had one lumber piler, Donald Burnett, who had been with
us for 20 years, and was a dependable, steady man. But two such men were
required, and in the course of a few years, Donald had a good many
partners.
These developments made it clear that more modern mills, which required
less physical strength, would soon supplant the older type of mill. This
was the subject of another difference of opinion between Edwin and I. He
wanted to make a move immediately to something much more modern, and it
could reasonably be asked why I didn't go along with this line of
thinking.
There were several reasons for my stand. We had one son, David, the only
boy in our family. Edwin also had one boy, Keith. At this point, it
seemed unlikely that either of them would go into the lumber business.
David was in high school, and his whole ambition was to write. Keith was
going to college, and also had other plans.
Mechanization costs
The cost of such a mill would likely have been between $200,000 and
$300,000. Even assuming that we could have raised this sum, which was by
no means certain, it would have created a burden of debt that would have
been with us for many years. I was over 50 years old at the time, and
this would have meant living with debt for almost the whole period that
I would be able to operate such a business.
We now had our original debt, assumed when we bought the business,
nearly liquidated. Perhaps our mill was only an antiquated pile of junk,
but we were doing pretty well with it, and it seemed to me that we could
continue using it as long as we'd be able to lumber.
Besides this, we didn't have room for a modern mill. We were already
cramped for yard room, and there was no adjoining land for sale. Our own
homes were only a quarter of a mile from the mill. In order to rebuild,
we'd have had to go looking for a new location, which would have been at
a less convenient distance. So, all in all, it was decided to shelve the
project for the time being.
Grading lumber
A lot of discussion was taking place at this time regarding the grading
of lumber. The custom had always been a straight bargain between buyer
and seller, as to the quality of the lumber. From our point of view,
this system had worked well, and we had no desire to change it.
Our business had expanded to the point where we were now selling well
over two million board feet a year. We had built up a good business, and
our customers seemed well satisfied with the quality of lumber we were
delivering. A good many lumber producers felt the same way. It's
doubtful that grading would ever have been adopted had not the
government taken a hand.
A law was enacted making the use of graded lumber compulsory in certain
instances - particularly in the building of houses. Government loans
were granted through a special agency - Central Mortgage and Housing
Corp. Most people building houses had to get a loan somewhere. And a
loan through Central Mortgage and Housing automatically specified the
use of grade-marked lumber, and regular inspections were provided to see
that this was done.
Agreeing to grade
We might have gone on and ignored the grade. Much of our lumber -
probably three quarters of it - would have gone to buyers who didn't
require a government loan. Only one of our buyers - Dartmouth Lumber Co.
- planned to stock their lumber yard with graded lumber. Others planned
to stock ungraded lumber as before, then when they received an order for
graded stock, to order it separately.
With this outlook, we might have survived without the grade. Still, we
decided to handle graded lumber when it was ordered. We didn't want to
lose Dartmouth Lumber as customers, and we felt that in time we'd be
driven to graded lumber anyway.
None of this is to suggest that our lumber was not, in fact, graded
anway. The people operating the type of lumber yards we were supplying
don't buy poor lumber. But the lumber was graded - as we used to say -
by the good old maxim of common sense. If you expected to hold your
trade, you had to supply a good product. We were already doing this.
Grader hired
A number of men were already being trained as graders by the Maritime
Lumber Bureau. One was a man named Parker Reid, who lived not far from
our mill. I had never become acquainted with him, but he was recommended
by the M.L.B. as a grader who had done exceptionally well in the
grader's course. And on that recommendation we hired him. This occurred
around May 1, in time for markets which were usually good during the
summer.
There were several grades of lumber included in the course, but the only
ones that concerned us were grades No. 1, No. 2 and No. 3 -
construction, standard and utility. The idiocy of the grading system was
illustrated by the fact that, in most instances, construction and
standard grades were usually mixed, and sold this way to builders of
houses.
The grading system that summer turned into a nightmare for us. Right
from the beginning we could see technicalities that resulted in a
superior piece of lumber going into a lower grade, while an inferior
piece could make one of the higher grades. It's hard to explain here how
this could happen, but it did happen, as our buyers pointed out to us.
Troubles
Yet it was new grader himself who made the situation difficult for us.
He was a disaster from the beginning. Before a new grader could begin
grading, it was considered necessary for a 'field-man' to come from
M.L.B. to initiate him into the intricacies of practical grading. A man
named Bourque was sent to our mill. He did manage to inject a little
common sense into the idiocy of the grade, and if Parker had taken his
cue from Bourque, things would not have been so bad.
But he didn't. To his credit, he did have a fantastic memory. His
knowledge of grading rules was perfect. But his knowledge of lumber was
considerably less than perfect. In order to be a good grader, it was
necessary to have a reasonable amount of judgment, as well as a
knowledge of the grade, the emphasis being on judgment.
No two pieces of lumber are identical. Probably the members of the M.L.B.
who formulated the grade were responsible. But the system they had drawn
up was terrifically hard on lumber if it was followed right to the
letter. And Parker followed it to the letter.
10% rejected
The situation was serious from our viewpoint. As far as we could see, as
much as 10% of the lumber that was being downgraded by Parker would have
been acceptable to our buyers. I went to other mills, and in none of
them did I see lumber being as rigidly graded as in our own.
You might ask, "Why didn't we discuss this thoroughly with our grader?"
Well, Parker wasn't an easy person to discuss anything with, unless you
happened to agree with him completely. We knew that he was well regarded
in the M.L.B. And we felt it would be poor judgment on our part to turn
them against us. Parker had passed the grading exams with flying colours,
and of course had been given his grader's license, which none of us had.
Few among those who have graduated from the highest universities in the
land cherish their diplomas as lovingly as Parker did his miserable
shred of paper from the M.L.B., which testified that, having passed the
course, he was now an accredited grader.
Strong man
Parker was a big, powerfully-built man, weighing nearly 200 pounds. He
liked a drink, and while it never kept him away from work, neither did
it soften a temper that tended to be harsh at the best of times. Knowing
that none of us held graders' licenses, and feeling that the lumber
bureau would be behind him, he showed an utter contempt for our ideas
regarding lumber.
We struggled through the summer and fall amid all these difficulties.
During the winter there was little grading to be done, and at this time
Parker was laid off, but he was on call if he was needed.
In spite of these problems, Parker was really a good worker, and as the
saying goes, there wasn't a lazy bone in his body. If there was no
grading for him to do, he would gladly work at any job where he was
needed - even piling lumber, or as a canterman.
Versatile
He was a clever workman, and could turn his hand to almost any job. This
was really the type of man we needed, and I tried desperately to come to
a better understanding with him regarding the grade. But his devotion to
the rules was almost fanatical. These were rules that should have been
changed, something that did happen later on - but this didn't help us
much at this time.
Of course we didn't dare use the official grading stamps - which were
used to mark each piece of lumber. The stamp indicated the species of
the wood, the grade of the lumber - that is, construction, standard, or
utility - the grader's license number, the mill number, and also the
name of the grading rules under which we were licensed.
If an unlicensed person was caught stamping the lumber, a stern warning
would be issued from M.L.B., and if this happened a second time, our
mill license would almost certainly have been suspended. And Parker
would have been delighted to pass the word along to the lumber bureau
had such a thing happened.
Wormy problem
Sometimes it was possible to put something over on Parker. One day we
had sold a truckload of 2x10, which had to be grade-marked. Now, 2x10 is
a size always in demand, and we never had enough of it. In this case -
as usual - the two grades, standard and construction, were mixed. This
was a really good load of 2x10, but it had been sawn from logs that were
a little on the old side, and there were a few small worm-holes in some
of the pieces.
Standard grade would accept a few of these wormholes, but according to
some certain specifications regarding the location of the holes on the
piece of lumber. The worms, never having taken the grading course,
didn't always eat the hole in the specified place.
I knew that these pieces of 2x10 were above average in strength, which
is their main requirement, since they were to be used as floor joists.
Often we'd include in our load a few pieces that Parker considered below
grade. But I did want a stamp on all, or nearly all of these.
Filling the holes
In desperation, I got a few sharp-pointed pieces of wood and drove them
solidly into the largest of these worm holes. After these pieces of
lumber had gone through the planer, these places looked not unlike a
small knot.
I saw Parker scrutinizing some of these pieces closely. He was
struggling to diagnose the defect he was seeing. Finally, making up his
mind that not much was wrong, he wielded his stamp of approval. And the
hilarious part of it was that the stamp he used was 'construction
grade', or No. 1. I'd have gladly settled for a 'standard', or No. 2
stamp.
Parker never did find out what these defects really were. If he had,
you'd have heard him hollering for miles. He could be profane, and the
trick would have made him furious. And of course, he would have told the
whole story to the first field man who came to the mill. It was a
perfect example of the old adage, what you don't know won't hurt you.
Showdown looming
Up to this time we had kept clear of a serious rupture with Parker,
mainly because we didn't want to fall into disfavour with the lumber
bureau. But now, we'd had enough. Parker had to go, even if it
completely terminated our connection with the bureau. The worst they
could do would be to cancel our mill license, making it impossible for
us to hire another grader. We didn't want this to happen, but we had got
along without them before, and were willing to do it again if we had to.
As a last chance of reconciliation, I went one evening to see Parker at
his home. There had been no grading done for nearly a month, but in a
short time, the spring and summer grading would begin. I had just gone
once again to other mills and seen what a rough deal we'd been getting
on the grade. As far as I was concerned, the rough deal was over.
Parker received me civilly enough. We discussed the resumption of
grading that was soon to begin. Then I explained about the grading I'd
seen done at other mills, and told Parker point blank that we were not
going to continue with the way he had been grading.
Not mincing words
The gist of what I managed to convey to him was that if he couldn't see
his way clear to relax his rigid grade and put at least a number two
stamp on more of our lumber, his period of employment with us was soon
going to become only a memory.
For a wonder, Parker didn't fly off the handle. Probably he felt too
sure of his position. He coldly informed me that he didn't make the
grading rules, but merely tried his best to follow them. He was
obviously telling me what he considered to be the truth. It was also
clear that he felt sure the M.L.B. would not allow us to fire him.
I left and came home, deciding to let him meditate on our conversation.
I knew that Parker would never give in. But I couldn't see his position
being as impregnable as he believed it to be. We were the ones who were
paying him his wages. We were also members of the lumber bureau, and
they do not like to lose members. In short, we were now prepared to defy
Parker and the lumber bureau as well, unless something was done to give
us some relief from this intolerable situation.
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