 David Morrison Blaikie
A Nova Scotia
lumberman
1909-1976
23. New lumber grader
I knew another grader that we would be able to hire if there was no
interference from the bureau. His name was Charles (Charlie) Rath. He
lived in Harmony, near Truro. Charlie was an elderly man, perhaps in his
mid-sixties, and was - we hoped - the opposite of Parker in every way. A
tall, rangy man, he was completely bald, and far from handsome, but he
had an engaging personality that made him everybody's friend.
Charlie had graded for us on two or three occasions when Parker was
away. His style was completely different, and while his knowledge of
grading rules was much less profound, he had a fair knowledge of lumber
from a practical viewpoint. From the first day, it was obvious that our
customers would have no objection to the manner in which he graded our
lumber.
The only place where friction might arise, would be between Charlie and
the M.L.B. field men. But Charlie had a way with such people. When they
decided they must have a really serious talk with him regarding his
grading, he would meet them with an outstretched hand, inquire all about
their health and that of their families, and do it in such a disarming
way that they didn't have the heart to say much to him.
Customers happy
Anyway, they knew our customers were happy, we were happy, so why should
they do anything to upset the applecart. The first thing was to find out
for certain that Charlie would come when we needed him. A telephone call
assured us that he would. But there were going to be problems in the
transition.
The day before we were to begin grading I happened to be away from the
mill most of the day. Some obliging person had told Parker of our
agreement with Charlie, and while I was absent, Parker came to the mill
and took our stamps home with him.
This was indefensible from any viewpoint. Those stamps belonged to the
mill. We had bought and paid for them. Whether Parker would surrender
them to me was another question. To make certain of our rights, I
telephoned M.L.B. and told them the whole story. Having a high opinion
of Parker's grading ability, they were inclined to be on his side. But
they did agree that he had gone too far in taking the stamps. I was
instructed to ask him for the stamps, and if he refused, to give the
M.L.B. another call.
Surrendering the stamps
Parker was not at home. As he was unmarried, and was living alone, there
was no one there to give me any idea of his whereabouts. I finally got
in contact with him through the local telephone operator. When I did get
him on the line he was none too civil, but he suggested I go to his
garage and get the stamps.
We were now ready to begin grading. Charlie had arrived at noon. Before
three o'clock Parker arrived. Possibly, he was the maddest individual
I've ever laid eyes on. And I was the object of his rage.
Mainly, I let him rave. There was little else I could do. I never was
built for the fighting ring and, as mentioned, Parker was a rugged
200-pounder, a rough and tumble guy who knew how to use his fists. After
the first five minutes or so of obscene anger, during which he was
hardly coherent, he began to defend his grading.
Heated discussion
"You think you've done something pretty smart now," he shouted. "Just
wait until a field man gets here. When he comes, that fellow will be
gone, and I'll be back there grading again."
"No, Parker," I replied "no matter what they do, you'll never grade
another stick of lumber in this yard," I said. "They'll take away your
mill license," he replied. "I doubt it," I replied. "But we got along
without it before, and I guess we could do it again if we had to. I'd
far sooner lose our mill license, and have the mill burn down too, than
have you around here any longer."
This provoked another tirade. I was getting fed up by this time. So I
said, "Parker, you've explained pretty fully what you think of me, of my
ancestors, of what is likely to happen to us, and how well we'll deserve
it all. My opinion of you isn't too high, either. Now, unless you've got
some new subject to bring up, suppose you get to hell out of our
millyard, and if you never come back, it will still be too
soon."
Parker departs
Parker left, muttering about our prospects when the field man showed up.
And as predicted, a representative from the bureau soon arrived. His
name was Keith Crowell, a young fellow. He was a nice appearing chap,
and Charlie was already slightly acquainted with him.
When we got a chance to talk privately, it soon was clear that we had
nothing to worry about. As far as our firing of Parker was concerned,
Mr. Crowell confirmed what I'd been pretty sure of anyway. If we were
dissatisfied with him, we had a right to get rid of him. He did point
out, though, that in their opinion Parker had a much better knowledge of
the grading rules than Charlie.
I felt like telling him that this was one of our main objections to
Parker, but realizing that it would be better to pick my steps
cautiously in this interview, I didn't make any comment on his grading
ability. Instead, I told him that we had already seen enough of
Charlie's grading to know that there would be no trouble as far as our
customers were concerned.
Coming to terms
I added that since the M.L.B. had given Charlie a license, they must
have considered him competent to grade lumber. I think we each knew what
was in the other's mind. We both knew that Charlie handled the grading
rules a good deal looser than Parker did. The field man was concerned
about technicalities; I wanted a practical grade that would be
satisfactory to our customers, without having large
quantities of our stock thrown into a utility grade.
Keith Crowell took a dim view of Parker's appropriation of our stamps at
a time when I was absent from the mill. This fact was a help to me, and
I had a feeling that in the next few weeks the bureau was going to learn
a number of things about Parker that would give them new insight into
his disposition.
This interview was the beginning of a better understanding between us
and all the field men. During our talk, I spoke honestly about my views.
From our point of view, I said, the bureau was a sovereign body behind
Parker Reid, and was inadvertently the cause of all our grief.
Disastrous impact
I was frank with Mr. Crowell. I explained that up to the time the
disaster of the grade began, everything had gone smoothly for us. We had
good customers, who appreciated the quality of the lumber we produced
for them. Now, out of the same quality stock, we had been forced to
watch at least 10% of our lumber thrown into a utility grade which sold
for little more than half price.
And all this was done because of the pigheaded, mulish stubbornness of
one man who had so far been backed to the limit by them. Now we had a
new man, one who combined a little common sense with his grading.
Our only worry was that the lumber bureau seemed now to want to
downgrade this man - after they had granted him a license. All we asked
of them was that they get off his back and leave him and us alone for
awhile.
Reality dawns
Slowly it filtered through to Mr. Crowell that there might be some truth
in this. He agreed that with occasional supervision, Charlie's grading
would doubtless be acceptable.
It was nearing five o'clock by this time, and I invited Mr. Crowell to
come to our home for supper. After a few polite protestations he
accepted. An introduction to Eva and our family established a new
atmosphere. He stayed until late evening.
The time was pleasantly spent, discussing other subjects rather than
grading. From this point on we had no serious difficulty with the field
men. Charlie's grading was a little unorthodox from their viewpoint, and
was the occasion of some periodic grumbling. But there was no recurrence
of the animosity that had been present under Parker's regime.
Troubles past
Our trouble regarding graders were past. Things did take some time to
settle, as Parker continued to stir things up. One of his habits was to
come around to the mill when grading was being done, and to watch for
errors in Charlie's grade. I could have ordered him out of there, and I
imagine he'd have gone. But I didn't think he could hurt us much more
anyway.
Charlie wasn't any too technical, and finding minor errors on his part
wasn't hard. Parker would watch, then telephone the lumber bureau,
reporting to them what he had discovered. But this soon back-fired on
Parker. It was too transparent. The M.L.B. could see that all he wanted
to do was to stir up trouble.
On their periodic visits to our mill, Charlie's grading was closely
scrutinized, and sometimes the field man would shake his head at his
discoveries. But Charlie, as stated earlier, was a man who really knew
good lumber from bad. Our customers continued to be happy, and I always
pointed this out to the field men. They didn't want any more trouble
either, and though bothered by Charlie's disregard of
technicalities, it was only at rare intervals that the problem was
mentioned.
Disarming character
Charlie had a delightful personality, an easy, unembarrassed talker.
Eric Chapman was the field man who most often came to our mill. On one
occasion he came to me considerably disturbed about Charlie's grading.
According to him, a lot of the pieces of lumber were below grade, and
this couldn't go on, he said. I asked him if he had found any actually
bad lumber. "No" he replied slowly, "but while there are a lot of pieces
having defects which really don't do any harm, they still do not pass
the grading rules.?"
This admission seemed to me to be enough to condemn the whole system.
However, it doesn't always pay to say all you think. Things had been
going pretty good. So I suggested that he might have a talk with
Charlie, and explain about these defects. "Well, I did try," he said, "I
had four or five hundred feet picked out, and I went over every piece
with him, showing him from the grading book the reasons they were below
grade."
Charlie, his usual benign smile still on his face, received this
explanation in silence. When Eric had finished, Charlie replied: "Yeah .
. . and are you catching any fish these days?" Then, before Eric had a
chance to answer, Charlie was embarked on a discussion of all the
fishing trips he'd had that spring. When he finished, it was
dinner-time.
Charlie wins again
Poor Eric! I suppose you couldn't blame the poor soul for feeling that
he was working on a lost cause. Such occasions came up at intervals, but
nothing ever came of them. The truth was, these people really liked
Charlie, and a showdown was always put off until next time.
That fall there was another time when Eric got seriously disturbed. This
time, he had decided to go to Charlie's home in Harmony, and really
thrash things out. On his arrival early one evening, he was of course
was cordially welcomed by Charlie. The two men chatted away for awhile,
with Charlie carrying most of the conversation, and Eric patiently
waiting for a chance to broach the unpleasant subject that had brought
him there.
Then Charlie invented an excuse to go and see Herb Hudson, a neighbour
across the road, about some trifling matter that never did come to light
that evening. He suggested Eric come with him, so Eric, biding his time,
came dutifully along. This was moose-hunting season, and this subject
came up almost immediately. Eric was a hunter himself, and Herb was an
interesting man who had a lot of
experience in the woods. So hunting was a congenial topic of
conversation for all.
A meal with Herb
Herb Hudson was living alone. He was a famous cook, and as the evening
progressed, he began to prepare a lunch, which on this occasion turned
out to be a real meal. Little chance arose for Eric to bring up a
discussion of grading rules. He was enjoying himself, and the meal was a
huge success. All this took time.
When Eric finally looked at his watch, it was twelve o'clock. He had to
drive to Fredericton early the next morning, and it would take an hour
and a half to drive from Charlie's home to his own near Amherst.
So when Eric finally hit the trail, it was without ever having had a
chance to discuss the topic that had brought him there in the first
place.
Fond memories
During the writing of this account, we received the news of Charlie's
death. The cause was a heart attack, very sudden. He lived only a few
minutes after the attack began.
I've never been one for eulogizing, but I shall always remember Charlie
as a kindly man who was everyone's friend. He was a good talker, perhaps
even a gossip, but never a malicious man. As an employee, he was always
on our side. He and his wife spent an evening with us only about a week
before his death. His health was good then, in fact I had never seen him
look better, and even now it's hard to believe that we were seeing him
for the last time. He was a man who enjoyed life keenly, and one who
will be sorely missed. Charlie had many friends.
Meanwhile Parker's tactics had dismayed the men at the lumber bureau. It
was plain to them now why we had the trouble with him, and he stopped
his visits to the mill after finding out that his spying tactics were
not appreciated at the lumber bureau. As far as I know, he never got a
job grading lumber again.
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