14
We each have twelve hundred bucks that we left Calexico with, so after much investigating and much talk, we have decided that when the country freezes real tight we will go to Edmonton, Alberta, and shoot the works for some big dough.
We have found out that now is the wrong time of the year, but when it is below zero and all the country is frozen solid, a fellow can go overland with a pack and snowshoes from Edmonton to the Peace River and the Mackenzie River country, which are rich in minerals. All that is necessary is to get there in the dead of winter, stay over summer and come out with the next freeze.
I, who hate snow and cold and have sworn to never be caught again in a blizzard, have succumbed to the lure of gold or money in any form. It is too early in the season to go to Edmonton. October will be soon enough. So we look around for a way to make a few extra bucks while waiting for the freeze. We are both pitched to a high level, with the world our oyster. Truly, we are congratulating each other that we landed in Calgary — we could have gone the other way. Carter says twenty-three is too young to be a millionaire, but when I remind him it will take two years to go where we are going and return, the guy is just as happy. He is a good sport, never worries, and is always ready for anything. A swell companion at all times, good or bad.
Here fate takes a hand and gives us a boost. Going across the street to our favorite restaurant of five days, we see a crowd a block down the street in front of an office building, which we decide to investigate after we have disposed of some waffles and eggs. It might be something we should know about.
After ordering said breakfast, we ask the waitress if she has any idea what the crowd is doing down the street. This gal knows everything. It seems Calgary is in the throes of an oil boom, and we have been so busy with our own ideas this was our first news of it, which proves a fellow should always look around. Without any urging our gal explains that if we hurry, it’s possible we can buy some shares in the Pilgrim Progress Oil Company, that her mother has hocked all their furniture to buy stock and all their friends are trying to raise money to invest.
How lucky can a couple of fellows be? Here my pal and I have never invested in anything except a few crap tables, and without any work on our part, if we hurry, we may be rich. Asked what she thought a fellow could make with a couple of hundred, she said the man told her, with her hundred invested, she would never have to work again. So what are we waiting for? We can finish breakfast after the first oil well.
Reaching the scene of activity, we find the broker’s office is full of people. There is a policeman on duty outside a big window, where the broker is throwing the dough he and his assistants take in. They don’t have time to stack it, just count, give a receipt and toss the loot in the window. This is opportunity at its best. There are as many women as men. The question is how to get some before it’s all gone. Again luck is with us, for a nice looking guy says, “Boys, do you want to buy some stock? If you do, I’ll take you in the side entrance we reserve for our special customers. As you boys look like smart people, I’ll take care of you.”
He did. The gal was right one hundred percent, and we had it made, so Berry and I parted with five hundred apiece, for which we got a receipt with a promise of our stock tomorrow in Pilgrim Progress Oil Company. With a name like that, how could we miss?
Feeling like a couple of fresh made millionaires, we go into a tailor shop and order a blue serge suit apiece, then decide to hold the rest of our dough for our winter trip in the event our oil well doesn’t come in on time. After a strenuous day of investment, tailoring and what have you, I challenge my pal to a pool game just to relax, when a gentleman introduces himself as Mr. Frazier. He is looking for help on his farm. With a pool hall full of men, he has to pick on us. When I ask him why, he says they are all a bunch of bums and won’t work. He has tried them all before. The poor guy is desperate, there’s hay ready to cut and soon the grain, and in a town full of men he can’t hire a man.
Neither one of us has worked on a real farm, but this fellow seems a decent sort and will pay us more than we ever earned, considerably more than I made living alone batching, taking a chance with my life every day breaking horses. Certainly Canada is the place for us. They just won’t let you starve. Besides, he wants us both for at least two months, so we promise we will take the job if he will wait until ten tomorrow, that we have some business to transact, then we will be free for two or three months.
I am liking Canada more every minute — never an idle moment, always something doing. We would get our stock, put it in a box in the bank. When we came back to town, our new suits would be ready and we would have more money. As long as we were going to be gone for two months, we counted our wealth and decided to put it all in the man’s oil well. If he had any stock left, which we doubted.
Keeping just a hundred apiece for use if needed, we found our stock ready when we arrived at our broker’s office, but there was no more Pilgrim Progress. It had been oversubscribed, so the man said. But he would let us in on a secret. There was another company just starting to sell their stock, the Black Diamond Oil Company, which he felt was just as good if not better. The man was right. It was just as good. The only thing was, we couldn’t have the stock for a few days, so we took a receipt for our dough, which we were assured was just as good as stock. Again the man was right.
We were a little late meeting Mr. Frazier, who had just about given us up. Without any delay, we started for his property, some thirty miles out of Calgary. We learned as we traveled along that Mr. Frazier was an older son, that there were six brothers and six sisters, together with mother and father quite a large family. Why he needed men with a family like his was a puzzle to us until we reached the farm. This family was loaded with land and crops. They were old timers and a nicer family never lived. They all worked like hell. The girls helped in the field or wherever necessary. The youngest was eighteen, so without hiring outside help they had a large operation going. They all lived in the big house, and mealtime was like a hotel. At ten in the morning something was always brought out to the field and again at four in the afternoon.
These folks were the hardest working people I had ever known, but the kindest and gentlest to each other as well as everyone who worked for them. It was no wonder they were happy and prosperous. We were with these nice people on August the fourth when the First World War broke out. They had taken us to their hearts like part of the family Through Berry they found my birthday was in July, so they baked a big cake with twenty-two candles and turned home-made ice cream. It was a wonderful gesture and made one feel good just to be around such people.
We had no news of our oil venture — in fact, very little news of anything except war, though I couldn’t see how that would affect Canada, it was so far away Our job would be over on the fifteenth of August. We were anxious to see what had happened in Calgary during our absence and to find out how rich we were.
Our work took a little longer than anticipated, so we don’t arrive in town until the twentieth. Calgary has gone nuts. Since five empires declared it the war has been on just a few days, but there are uniforms everywhere, as well as many recruiting offices. War has arrived with a vengeance. Canada is rushing to get a first contingent together. Still one hears from many sources that the war can’t last, that Germany isn’t strong enough. It’s sure to be over by Christmas.*
War or no war, we have things to do. First, our tailor with our new suits, then to see about our oil investment. And the time is not too far distant to prepare for our trip to the Peace River in December. Our tailor is a most depressed Canadian. He is talking of going out of business. He hasn’t sold a suit since the day war was declared. Who wants tailor-made clothes with a war on? He thinks he may join the army. Besides, he lost some money in an oil deal, some company other than ours. Of our company he knows nothing, so we hasten to our broker or the man who sold us our stock and find the place closed. Why, we can’t find out. Berry suddenly thinks of the waitress who gave us our first information about Pilgrim Progress Oil, so we rush over to the restaurant where we first met the young lady. We find her working and very unhappy.
The little lady tells us the sad news. It seems the brokers and the men who sold the stock had closed their offices sometime in July and had beat it to the United States, together with the oil men. According to her information, they were American promoters who got rich from the sale of stock, then departed for the good old U.S.A., leaving their Canadian stockholders sadder but wiser.
Whether they had drilled a well, she didn’t know. She only knew that she and her mother, together with all their friends, were broke and wouldn’t be able to make the payments on their furniture, as they had borrowed money to buy stock. She told us business was bad. People still bought food, but where they used to tip a quarter or half dollar, they now left a dime or nothing. The poor kid was in real trouble, so for a dollar-and-a-quarter check, my pal gives the gal a dollar tip.
When I ask him why the hell he didn’t marry the gal, the big bum just grins. Quite a boy, this pal of mine. While our little girlfriend didn’t know it, the American promoters hadn’t just left Canadian stockholders behind, they had two American stockholders with one thousand apiece of our money in somebody’s pocket. At least we weren’t broke. We were both too young to retire.
There were many places to go, so to hell with the boys. They were sure accommodating, even gave us a receipt, stock and everything, even took us in a side entrance. Next time I’ll wait. That way I’ll have my money a little longer. When I tell Berry it might be a good idea if we don’t mention we are Americans unless someone guesses it, he agrees one hundred percent. Someone might hang us to a lamp post. Americans in Calgary are not too damned popular at the present moment. To ask anyone if they wanted to buy our stock would not be good. So just in case someone might be buying or trading, we get our stock and receipt out of the bank box. While it may not be worth much, the paper is beautiful and the seal is sure a honey. If worse comes to worst, we can take it with us this winter to use in our cabin as wallpaper, nice and expensive.
My pal has a brilliant thought. “You know,” he says, “when you went broke in Calexico, you got all your money back with a profit on a crap table. Why can’t you do the same thing here?” This guy is nuts. First, there are no crap tables here that I know about, and second, I could go bust and there is no big-foot Chinese boy to stake us if we wind up broke here. Another consideration is that, with this stock in our pocket, we could land in jail for life. Someone might swear we were part of the gang the American promoters left behind. I’m all for getting out of town. We have enough money thanks to our two and a half months with the Fraziers. I’m for Edmonton, where we can prepare for our trip.
It’s amazing what and why people do things on the impulse of the moment. Someday when I get older I am going to stop and think, but now I still act and then think, and sometimes repent at leisure. Today is no exception. It is the second of September, 1914. We know of a waffle shop where the food has been excellent. So at about six o’clock, we bounce up to the counter for our evening meal, as tomorrow we have decided to leave for Edmonton.
The place is full of young men, some in uniform, others talking about joining the army. Seated next to me is a fellow in uniform with a load of stripes on his sleeves, none of which means anything to me, but what he says does. This character is a recruiting sergeant who is all full of his subject. At first his conversation doesn’t ring a bell, until the old boy says travel at the government’s expense and see the foreign countries. I was sunk the minute I asked if the government returned you to your recruiting point. I was quickly assured that they didn’t only return you, but gave you a bonus and big pay while in service. He further explained that the unit he was recruiting for paid big money from the day you joined, with uniforms and everything free. If we would come up to the basement of the building where their headquarters were, his captain would explain all the advantages of being a soldier.
Glancing up toward the top of the wall facing us, we noticed some joker had pasted a sign: Broken Donuts and Burnt Waffles Exchanged for Pilgrim Progress Oil Stock. Whether this had any effect or not, I don’t know, but we promised to come up after finishing our dinner. This wasn’t good enough, for the old boy knew his recruiting, so he waited and grabbed the check.
Away we go. We don’t have to join, just look. When we reached the basement, there was more activity than on the streets. If we thought there were uniforms upstairs, we were crazy. They were all down in the basement. Some fellows were drilling, some were learning about rifles, everyone was busy. The minute said captain took us in tow, I knew we were done for. Just think, three dollars and thirty cents a day, every day including Saturday and Sunday, with everything furnished, a chance to travel, starting immediately, tomorrow, no training required.
The gallant captain was recruiting for a motor unit to go to France at once. He had to have thirty-three men to leave on the two o’clock train tomorrow. Without asking, he says I know you boys both drive a truck, and as first driver you draw top pay at three-thirty per day and you have a second and third driver with loader for each truck, so all you do is boss and once in a while drive the trucks.
Here I explain to the captain our plans for the winter of going to Peace River. This is right up the old boy’s alley. He counters with, “I think that is marvelous. You are the kind of men we need, someone with ideas. While the war is on, there will be nothing doing in the North. Join, and by the time you return you will both have a big bank roll. You will have seen a lot of the world, and Peace River will still be there.”
What can we lose? So he turns us over to a sergeant where we sign up and are sworn in to His Majesty’s service, with orders to return at eight in the morning. Upon our inquiring what happens if we don’t show at eight, said sergeant leaves us with no doubt when he says we will send for you. In joining and being sworn in, the fact that we were Americans didn’t trouble anyone. So long as we were twenty-one, there were no questions. They were evidently scraping the bottom of the barrel to take us, for two more ignorant individuals about army life they couldn’t find had they advertised in all periodicals.
We stay awake most of the night laughing and talking about our new investment, as Berry puts it. I know nothing about a truck, and my pal knows less. Just wait until they put a truck in front of you and say take off. His quick answer is, “Dig in the spurs and pull the horn.” With this we have a good laugh until the roomers all over the joint start pounding their walls. Berry wants to lick the whole crowd, but I have had experience with this business of licking a crowd. I am now a hero of the King’s army and shall reserve my fighting for the war, and if the man is right, the war will end about the day we land in France. Just a pleasant trip with refreshments and pay. They started this war just in time for us. Always something happens. Never a dull moment.
We report promptly at eight as per orders for fear they might send for us. Now they have us. There is no rush. We are too early, so the sergeant gives us a chit on a restaurant across the street. In the army one night and breakfast on the house, it’s unbelievable. And we don’t have to report back till eleven, which gives us plenty of time to pack our things, get some travelers checks with our dough. We are a couple of kept men leaving for Toronto at two o’clock. Where or how far to Toronto, we don’t know, but the sergeant says it is our first stop on the way to France. Of one thing I am sure, it is closer to the U.S.A. and our American promoters than here in Calgary. Which doesn’t mean anything, only these boys may be working Toronto, and we could buy some more stock, I think.
At one o’clock, thirty-three men in civilian clothes and carrying their worldly goods lined up on the street in front of the recruiting basement for our march to the railroad station. Here we were supposedly going to France via Toronto, with no one having a uniform or a physical examination. All of this would be taken care of in Toronto. Up to now there had been no one interested in trucks. The captain said we drove trucks, so we left it at that. A captain couldn’t be wrong. We were a hot looking bunch marching through town, Berry and I each with a suitcase and an overcoat, the rest of our bunch dressed similarly. I’m sure if the mayor had seen this crowd of recruits going to defend Calgary, he would have surrendered without a struggle. The walk was more than we expected, but we bore up like a couple of real heroes without too much griping and were more than pleased to find we would have a private car for our little group all the way to Toronto.
Footnote
*In fact, it wasn’t, and when it finally did end four years later, nine million men would be dead.