Staunton- part V

                                                                Staunton V

               The next several days seemed like watching a calendar spin in a moving picture reel. Get up, go to work, stop for a beer and continue on. It wasn’t boring or unpleasant, just uneventful;.

             Riding his Mare through Stanley Park gave some relief to the tedium. The beauty of the flora in this newly opened urban delight, looking out into the Ocean, was a tonic that could soothe many things.

             Jim had avoided, for the time being, returning to Staunton’s. He wasn’t afraid of the loggers, he just didn’t need that kind of grief in his life. A struggle like that only ended when one or both of the parties had left this mortal coil.

            Of late, a lethal form of revenge had sprung up. It was called “bush-whacking.”  When some lad, who had drawn the ire of miscreants, was riding or walking through Stanley Park or a nearby wooded area, two evil rascals hid in the bushes, with long guns. When the unsuspecting lad came into range, the two rascals would open up, filling the poor lad with enough lead to sink a small ship.

             An alternative gathering place for evening refreshment was always available on Vancouver’s waterfront. Jim had settled on a colorful establishment on Water Street, “Gassy Jack’s.’” It had been named after its redoubtable owner John “Gassy Jack” Deighton. Some patrons said the name arose from jack’s continual stream of verbiage, “gassing” his guests.

       Others, less kind, said that  it arose from jack’s considerable capacity to pass odiferous and constant streams of noxious gas from his posterior. In either case, the place was comfortable and pleasant refuge to spend a few hours with others enjoying the melancholy of the late evening.

        Legend had it that after the great fire of the late 80’s and utter destruction of the original facility,  Jack Deighton had workmen hammering day and night to erect a new Tavern. The rough and tumble workers, many of Irish extraction,  had been provided with a goodly supply of whiskey and beer. They had finished the job in short order, to the appreciation of the many aging imbibers who frequented the place.

        It was in Gassy Jack’s that an idea had occurred to Jim, for his future. Some of the older patrons told stories of participating in the California Gold Rush of 1849. Colorful tales of days on end, carousing with the company of troops of soiled doves, playing in endless card games and other leisure pursuits, were only half believed. One never knew if a tale was true or not, nut appreciated the yarn for its conversational contribution.

         The men spoke wistfully of days of yore, when they had dug in the earth in search of that illusive metal, gold. They said that it was a fever amongst the prospectors, this urgent need to “find gold.” When some few of the thousands of prospectors found a lode of the precious ore, the area exploded with excitement. Hundreds of other “digs” would set up camp around the lucky strike, hoping to tap into the vein of golden metal magic. It was a hard life that spent the youthful energy of many thousands of fortune seekers. Some few were successful, many were not. But, the memories were there for all, stories of youthful adventures in a strange land.

     What did catch Jim’s attention was the stories of privation and the extraordinary cost of food and materials to all of the prospectors. The gold fields were in the wilds of Northern California. A supply chain of providers simply didn’t exist. Ships and then wagon loads of goods had to be lugged in over rough terrain. The reward of piles of gold dust from the hungry prospectors fueled the energies of these enterprising merchants. These risk-taking businessmen were the ones who had really “struck gold” in California.

       Enterprising merchants like Levi Strauss were rewarded for their efforts many times over. The redoubtable Mr. Strauss saw that wear and tear on clothing was a continuing issue. He had the idea of using a very strong and stiff fabric like sail cloth, for the manufacture of pants. The sturdy fabric had been created to withstand the rigors of ocean air and high winds. Dyeing it blue or black and  then sealing the critical seams with welder’s rivets had created a pair of pants that were well suited for the rigors of the rough and tumble gold fields. The new trousers were virtually indestructible, unless and until pierced with  bullets or arrows. The blade of an axe was also a good way to ruin the new fabric.

      Others imported loads of sturdy oak shovels, picks and axes were imported, from New England manufacturers, for the miner’s use. Lanterns, bed rolls, mess kits and a whole array of supplies, needed for daily survival in the gold fields, literally flew off the shelves of the enterprising merchants.

         The conversations had sparked an idea in Jim’s mind. On his own construction site, Jim knew how critical the unbroken supply chain was to the success of the building effort. He and his colleagues had sometimes been idled for days, while a new shipment of bricks was procured. Scarcity always upped the ante for needed supplies.

        The old prospectors had tales of the fevered search for gold now going on north of Vancouver. There were no actual strikes yet, but whispers of what hordes of treasure lie beneath the surface of the rugged areas, of the Yukon to the north, floated effortlessly on the lubricated lips of the aging bar patrons.

          The Mac Adams family was no stranger to business and commerce. Jim’s family had operated a successful brick factory in Bristol for decades. Maybe his family might be interested in helping to finance and take part in a similar venture in Vancouver? The great fire of the 80’s had destroyed virtually every existing structure in the area. The business opportunities in the area would be fertile for decades.

        The next day, after work, Jim composed a carefully thought out letter to his family in Bristol. He outlined the business opportunities, the probable start-up costs and the possibilities of success. Jim had a small reserve of capital from his own job to add to the mix. Would any of the Bristol Mac Adams be interested in a new venture in Vancouver? He mailed the letter the next day. It would take many weeks for a letter to go all of the way to Bristol, England and return. That was okay with Jim. He had a decent life here in Vancouver. If he could avoid the vengeful axe men, his life would go along nicely for the immediate future.

                                          -30-

                                  (1.116 words)

                              Joseph Xavier Martin