 David Morrison Blaikie
A Nova Scotia
lumberman
1909-1976
29. Preparing to close
On a cold frosty night in January, we had a call from Edward Creelman,
the president of Brookfield Box Co. The errand that brought him couldn't
have been important, as I can't remember now what it was. But our
conversation gradually drifted onto the lumber business in general, and
it's prospects for the future.
When he discovered that we were considering selling the business, he
surprised me by showing a possible interest in it's purchase. This led
into a long conversation. It ended, of course, without anything definite
being decided, as it isn't often that one makes such a decision on the
spur of the moment.
But before he left, he knew what our production was, and had examined
our balance sheets for some years back. These showed nothing to be
ashamed of, and I was only too glad to produce them. Before leaving,
Edward made a suggestion that came as a surprise on my part: If he did
buy our business, would I consider operating it for him?
This idea didn't appeal to me. If I was going to have all the headaches
connected with the operation of the business, there seemed little point
in making the sale at all. I did tell him, though, that I'd manage it
for a year, and also felt it only fair to explain some of the problems
that could be expected to arise in the near future. These were problems
that gave him cause for serious thought, and I felt it unlikely that the
deal would ever go through.
The winter of 1968
The winter of 1968 was a good one by lumbering standards. It was cold,
and there were no severe storms. The logging roads were soon frozen
solid - a marvellous help to us in hauling logs. Again, to avoid buying
another truck, we hired Ralph Graham to haul logs for us. We still had
one log truck in good condition, and could haul logs faster than the
mill could use them. This was good, as it let us gradually accumulate a
stockpile for the spring months.
Winnie Patterson was logging a lot that lay in the Lindsay Lake area, a
few miles below Upper Musquodoboit. And Frank Kennedy was cutting logs
on a lot out the Harmony Road, some 10 miles from the mill. These two
operations, together with what we were able to buy from farmers and
other loggers in the area, promised to give us all the logs that would
be needed to keep the mill in steady
operation.
Orders for lumber continued to come in faster than we could fill them.
Altogether it looked as if this would be another year of maximum
production.
No deal
The deal for selling the business to Brookfield didn't materialize.
Edward decided against carrying our business as an additional operation.
However, he did indicate an interest in buying the assets of the
company. These included the mill, mobile equipment - the trucks and
fork-lifts - a fair amount of timberland once again, and of course also
the mill site and the farm land that it included. But this was
mid-winter, no time to complete such a transaction, and the plan was
shelved for the present.
Over the past years a great change had taken place in our winter
operations. Less than 15 years earlier, the planing mill seldom operated
in cold weather, our operations being limited almost exclusively to the
sawmill. The difficulties of operating planers in the winter have been
mentioned. Snow and ice freezing onto lumber are the main cause of the
trouble, inevitable during cold weather.
But in recent years, more and more contractors were building houses
continuously - winter and summer- and this created a constant demand for
lumber. Production was slower in the winter, but we had become much
better organized, and our output didn't drop badly - probably not over
10%. And this winter was better than average. The good weather also
meant better than average production in the sawmill. Still, it wasn't
anywhere near enough to fill our orders.
Demand continues
Harry MacLellan, one of our contractors from Economy, had bought a
good-sized block of timberland in Otter Brook, about three miles from
our mill. His cut of around five to six thousand feet each day was a
great help.
Even then the supply of lumber in our yard kept gradually shrinking. If
we could get by until spring without running out, we knew we could count
on Cecil Perrin - also living in Economy - for a further supply.
He had plans made to saw a million feet, and would likely begin
deliveries around May 1. Along with some further supplies we could count
on from a few smaller mills, this should give us lumber faster than we
could plane it, which was good, as our yard supply was far below
normal.
Mill sounds
During those clear, cold winter days I listened to the sound of the mill
more consciously than ever before. The shrill screech of the saw cutting
through a log, the drone of the planer, and the steady puffing of the
steam engine were audible for a great distance in such weather. As I
listened, nostalgia crept in. I knew it would be our final winter in the
lumber business.
The days were lengthening. Almost too soon, it seemed, warmer weather
proclaimed the arrival of spring. And we were busier than ever. Early in
May we again began working overtime in the planing mill: two evenings
each week - sometimes three - and Saturday afternoon. Orders were coming
in faster than we could possibly fill them.
At this point further discussions took place with Edward Creelman
regarding the purchase of our business. There was no more suggestion of
operating it as a going concern. We were both busy at the time, and our
talks were limited to short conferences whenever we happened to meet.
No direct transfer
Since our business was an incorporated company, I'd have preferred to
sell him our shares. The transfer would then have been very simple, from
our viewpoint. It would have involved arriving at an agreed price, and
our endorsement of our share certificates, as we had full control of the
business. It could then have pased directly to Edward, or perhaps it
should be said to Brookfield Box Company.
But this deal didn't appeal to Edward. Nobody likes the job of
collecting outstanding accounts. It would have been only natural for him
to assume that a significant amount of these would be uncollectible. I
knew they were good accounts - mainly - most of which would be
automatically paid a couple of months from the time the business was
closed down.
So what it boiled down to was the possibility that he might make an
offer for all the assets of the Company except the book accounts. It was
now the month of June, and still no actual offer had been made. We were
both busy, rushed by more offers than we could fill, so we planned to
get to the details of price when we had more time - if that moment ever
arrived.
Coming to terms
It certainly wasn't going to happen during the summer, as there was an
unprecedented demand for lumber. There's a limit to the capacity of any
business, and many orders had to be refused. During July the weather was
fine, dry and hot. And in August these conditions changed little.
Early in August I decided that something must be done, either to confirm
the sale of the business, or to confirm the fact that the deal had
fallen through. A two-week vacation was due for our mill crew at the end
of August. Since business was so demanding, most of the crowd agreed to
settle for a week's vacation, plus double pay for the other week.
It was around this time of the year that we normally began to make plans
for the coming winter. It still looked as if we only had two choices -
either sell or close down. But we had to know. Finally, around
mid-August, Edward and I got together for a discussion. We arrived at a
price, and the agreement, which had dragged on for months, was finally
closed.
All assets sold
The price, as suggested earlier, did not include the book accounts - the
most valuable part of the business - but did include all other assets of
the company, except two small pieces of land which I was reserving for
personal reasons. So Brookfield Box Co., would become owner of the mill,
it's complete equipment of tools and appliances, around 30 acres of land
surrounding it, all the trucks and
fork-lifts, as well as the balance of the timberland which we still
owned.
Long before this agreement was made, word of the impending sale had
leaked out among our mill-crowd. In fact, I had made little effort to
keep it secret. The effect of the announcement varied with the
individual. A few, those who had been employed only a short time, did
not much care. But others, particularly the older men, were concerned
about the loss of their jobs.
Thankfully, Edward Creelman offered jobs to all of our employees who
wanted them, relieving me of the feeling of throwing men out of work.
His offer wasn't unanimously accepted, but more than half our men did go
to work there. However, this time was still some distance away. A
decision to close such a business can't just be decided on one day, and
done the next.
Finishing up
We had a lot of lumber in the yard. Cecil Perrin had just finished his
deliveries to us, but we were still committed to buy Harry MacLellan's
fall cut of lumber, and we also had an understanding with several
smaller operators that we would buy their cuts. And a good supply of
logs still remained to be sawn. Just how many was hard to say. There
were small browns of logs scattered over quite an area, and Frank
Kennedy was still logging a piece of timberland a few miles out the
Harmony road.
We could have got out of a lot of this work, and shortened the time
involved in closing down. Edward Creelman would have taken all the
lumber in our yard, and would have been glad to buy the logs. But I
didn't want to do it that way. The decision to sell had not been made
soon enough, and this could easily be seen now. Still, I wanted to close
it down in an orderly manner, by sawing all the logs to which we were
committed, dressing all of our lumber, and delivering it to the market.
In short, when we came to the end of our lumbering operations, I wanted
our mill yard to be completely empty of either logs or lumber. It was
soon evident that this wasn't going to be easy. The end of August came,
and we had our week off. During this time I made some off-hand
calculations regarding the time it would take.
Million board feet
At this point there was around a million feet of lumber in the yard. As
always, the amount of logs was uncertain, but we had to refuse any
further offers of logs which would no doubt be made to us. It looked as
if we might finish sawing late in October. And the planing mill would
likely be kept busy for at least another month. This would bring it to
perhaps early in December, and by this time some cold
weather, as well snow and ice, could be expected.
Normally our overtime work ended early in September. This year, however,
it was important to get on with the work, and it was near the end of
October when those involved decided they didn't want to keep it up any
longer. I didn't blame them. It had been a long summer, and working so
many nights until nine o'clock had become a drag.
The days were short now, and it was dark when the evening work began.
This didn't affect work in the mill, which was well lighted, but it's
hard to light up a whole mill yard, and this created difficulty in
operating the forklifts. By that time, the supply of lumber in the yard
was shrinking. It looked as if we could finish in less than two months.
Before the end of that time, we'd be sure to strike some cold
weather, but with luck we should be done before the winter really closed
in on us.
Final autumn
The dreamy Autumn days were passing. We were coming closer and closer to
the closing down of the mill, yet all of these events seemed to have an
air of unreality about them. I knew the end was coming, yet it seemed
impossible that it would arrive. The old familiar sounds were the same -
the shriek of the saw, the blast of the whistle, and the steady whine of
the planer had not changed. But while I knew we were at a point where
closing, it was still hard to believe.
During this period photographs were taken of the mill in full operation.
This was something I had always intended to have done. And it had to be
now or never, for the time would soon come when the yard would look bare
and desolate, part of the mill crew would be gone, and it would no
longer look like a lumber operation.
These pictures were taken by Al Eastman, who later became Frances'
husband. He was a photographer, and the pictures he took are ones I
wouldn't want to part with. Two enlarged ones showed the mill sharply
outlined against the distant mountains, the yard still well filled with
lumber, and a crisp autumn wind carrying a trail of smoke from the
stack.
A thriving picture
The same breeze also whirled the exhaust steam from the engine and
safety valve across the intervale. These pictures were more than
satisfactory, but Al went on to take what turned out to be a full album
of pictures. The men were shown working at their different jobs, the
trucks and fork-lifts still in use, and instead of an operation about to
close down, it looked as it had for many years, a thriving
lumber business still in its prime.
Meanwhile, we were being forcibly reminded of the precarious condition
of the mill. The Dutch oven had to be repaired frequently - a patch-up
job was all that was possible - and I was mortally afraid it would cave
in before we were finished. The tubes in the boiler were giving trouble.
One tube in particular had to be welded nearly every week, and it was
becoming obvious that welding would soon be
ineffective.
Perhaps the most ominous threat was the decrepit condition of the slab
chains. The short chain, built for conveying stove-wood, was worn out.
Frequently a link would break, and while this could be welded, it was
unsatisfactory, and the breakage was getting progressively worse.
Woodwork rotting
The long slab-chain was still in good condition - as far as the chain
itself was concerned. But it was driven by a set of level gears, a small
gear being meshed into a much bigger gear. The bearings that kept these
gears in mesh were bolted onto woodwork that was becoming rotten.
Occasionally the gears would be forced apart, which nearly always
resulted in broken cogs.
Broken cogs are not easily repaired. It could be done - a patch-up job
again - by a welder, or by threading in bolts to take the place of the
broken cogs. It was going to be a matter of luck if we could get along
without a major breakdown until the sawing was finished. Fortunately, we
had Ray there to do these repairs. He was a wizard at this type of work.
Ray was one of the men who intended to go to work at Brookfield Box when
our own operation was finished. His own home in Londonderry was too far
distant to drive to work every day, so we asked him to stay on with us.
He was happy with this plan, so the arrangement seemed to be settled.
Thanksgiving
The Thanksgiving period came later than usual that October. Thanksgiving
Sunday was Oct. 14, and the mill was idle the next day, it being a
public holiday. The weather was as near perfect as October weather can
be, which meant that it was ideal. October can be cold, rainy and
disagreeable, but this year it was a succession of bright, sunny days,
warm in the afternoons and frosty at night.
Autumn beauty can be almost unreal. The still, crisp mornings, the
warmth of the afternoon sun, and the moon shining down at night from a
sparkling sky create a season of loveliness, this year felt all the more
keenly by the realization that our mill operations would soon be over.
Yet there was much work still to be done before the actual closing down.
Knowing this the men might have worked on the holiday, but I didn't feel
like asking them to do this. So on Tuesday, the day following the
holiday, we resumed work as usual.
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