Staunton's- part III

                           Staunton’s- part III

         Jim’s eyes fluttered open early the next morning. His nose was filled with the low-tide reek of the nearby Pacific. The loud, squawking of sea gulls, fighting with each other for scraps of dead fish on the beach, made him smile. The birds here were an avian comedy show performed daily.

After a quick visit to the loo, he dressed in his work clothes and hob-nailed boots. The job started early at 7 A.M and the bosses didn’t tolerate late comers. He wolfed down some stale bread and moldy cheese, that he had brought home yesterday. He would get some coffee at a small stand near the worksite.

The sea air was brisk and invigorating as Jim walked down West Georgia Street to the work site. The latent, stinging odor of burnt timber was present in the air, even these many years after the great fire. Other workmen and clerks were scurrying along the boulevard  to their job sites. The day time edition of Vancouver was just coming alive. It was a good time of day to be here.  The walk helped dispel some of the cobwebs Jim had picked up at Staunton’s last night. It was easier to leave his mount in the stable at home, than to ride her downtown. Stabling a horse, in the growing downtown area of Vancouver, was becoming both difficult and expensive.

 A large mug of black coffee and a friendly chat with the store clerk equipped Jim to start the day. Jim and his fellow Masons were working on the foundation of the new Fairmount Hotel, Vancouver Place, on West Georgia Street. It was to be another in the magnificent string of grand hotels built across Canada, erected by the enterprising commercial giant of the Canadian National Railway. The recent completion of their rail line, with a terminus in Vancouver, had brought money and jobs to the area.

Jim and the lads worked deep in the pit of earth, that was the foundation of the great hotel. After a massive pour of cement, for the sub flooring, and installation of rows of rebar, jim and his Masons began laying row after row of large grey bricks, for the outer foundation walls. 

The work, though physically exacting, was a pleasure for a man like Jim. Laying a dollop of mortar on the row of existing bricks, he carefully seated the next large stone across the existing bricks. A quick slake of his trowel wiped the excess mortar form the surface area around the seams of the stone. A tap of the trowel’s handle seated the brick in its place. He then moved on, seating one brick in row at a time. Though physically taxing, the work gave Jim the pleasure of a capable craftsman in his profession.

The walls of the foundation were slowly rising from the earth. When he and the lads had finished completing their portion of the job, the iron workers, electricians, carpenters and plumbers would set to with their skilled efforts. Soon the grand structure would rise, from the burnt ashes around them, to become the noble edifice of another regal Fairmount Hotel.

The noon lunch break gave the lads 30 minutes to relax in the shade and compare stories of their misadventures of the evening before. Most knew that the stories were largely fiction but they were good for conversation fodder during a much-needed break in their work.

News of another seaman, found floating in the Bay, gave the men cause for comment.

“Sure the lad was only looking out for some fun,” said Spike Reynolds. “It is too bad they can’t watch out for those rascals down on the waterfront.”

“Aye, tis the devil alive in some of them,” commented Jim. “I remember when I first came here. Some of the older lads told me who and what to watch out for.”

“Well, lads let’s get back to work,” said Spike. “This building isn’t going to build itself.”

The men rose as one group, put away their lunch things and climbed down into the pit to start again. It was another five hours of tiring work as they laid in each row of heavy grey bricks.

Five O’clock came by as quick as a wink. Then men cleaned up their work areas, made a final tap on a last loose brick and then set off for another night. Some of the lads would go home to families and dinner. Jim had a trip to Staunton’s on his mind. The icy cold sweat, of a tall schuper of beer ,had been on his mind since mid-afternoon. Let’s see what happens tonight, he thought.

                                       -30-

                                  (783 words)

                            Joseph Xavier Martin