The Brownsbury Phenomenon

By Gunnar Alutalu

The time is late nineteenth century. The place is a Nova Scotia coal mining community in Canada.

A visionary young man inherits the mine and takes daring steps in breaking with the long-accepted confrontational management-labour relations traditions.

Despite becoming the target of censure by his contemporary mine owners, he presses ahead with daring innovations and enlists the help of talented individuals from among the miners.

The result is an improvement in the lives of coal miners, an establishment of a new manufacturing community and an assured future for all.

It is the pre-World War world of youthful optimism, of hope, of great expectations, of experimentation and limitless possibilities.

It is a tale of romance, adventure and discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781329998315

Book preview

The Brownsbury Phenomenon

THE BROWNSBURY PHENOMENON

By

Gunnar Alutalu

Dedicated to my sister-in-law Kathleen, a published authoress.

Synopsis

The time is late nineteenth century. The place is a Nova Scotia coal mining community in Canada.

A visionary young man inherits the mine and takes daring steps in breaking with the long-accepted confrontational management-labour relations traditions.

Despite becoming the target of censure by his contemporary mine owners, he presses ahead with daring innovations and enlists the help of talented individuals from among the miners.

The result is an improvement in the lives of coal miners, an establishment of a new manufacturing community and an assured future for all.

It is the pre-World War world of youthful optimism, of hope, of great expectations, of experimentation and limitless possibilities.

It is a tale of romance, adventure and discovery.

Gordon and Sarah

Shall I close the door, Father? the young man asked. He had entered his father’s office by the back stairs. Rather than come into his inner sanctum through the busy front work area, his father preferred using his private entrance. His father loved his privacy, the young man knew, but today the door to the next office was ajar, almost wide open. 

No! There is no one else in the front office except Sarah.

Sarah?

Yes, I have a young lady as my confidential secretary. You seem surprised, Gordon.

Well, such an important clerical position has always been the       domain of men. Men are believed to be better able to keep secrets and confidences than women. But, of course, we are in 1875, and attitudes and values are changing in the world.

Sarah has been with me for almost a year now, and she has never betrayed any Company secrets. You will find her very capable. And, of course, she will make a full report to me regarding any and all decisions you will take. You better be wise, my boy! Sarah will keep no secrets from me.

Of course, Father. I do have certain changes in mind, but I will discuss everything with you, so that our decisions will be in the best interests of the colliery.

Sarah knows everything about Company policy and will answer any questions you may have. I would advise you to let things run along as they always have been. Just look around and get a general feel about the mining operations as they stand at this time. There have been some minor changes in the industry since you left for the University. Naturally, I expect you to have certain ideas about how to improve coal mining techniques, since you are now a qualified mining engineer. But don’t order any expensive machinery until I get back! I want to know all the costs involved before deciding. Thus far, the traditional pick-and-shovel method has served us well.

Yes, it would seem that the pick and the shovel will continue to be the basic tools for some time to come.

There may be labour trouble. I have spies on both the day and the night shifts, and these tell me that there have been stirrings and discontent. But Sarah will be the first to know. The informers report to her. For years, men have received 80 cents for a twelve-hour shift, and the boys 40 cents. Our mine here in Brownsbury is not the only one that has this wage scale. Other Nova Scotia coal mines have an identical policy. Just don’t rock the boat until I get back, my son! And now, I want you to meet Miss Sarah Silversoul.

Sarah, please come into my office! Howard Growstock, the owner and operator of the Brownsbury, Nova Scotia coal mine, requested, raising his voice only slightly.

Gordon expected to be introduced to a hard-faced, severe, bespectacled elderly lady, much along the lines of a female prison guard, but the beautiful young woman who entered caught him completely off guard! She was in her early twenties, about his own age, maybe a little younger. She was tastefully dressed and her honey-blonde wavy hair was carefully and attractively arranged. Her voice, when she spoke, was low and sweet.

Yes, Mister Growstock, I have made notes of your conversation with your son. I know already what is expected of him during your brief absence, she murmured.

You will be working closely together; so, you may as well call him by his first name. You modern young people of this new generation have a tendency to forego formality.

It is most kind of you, Mister Growstock, but for the time being I should prefer to address your son by his family name, if you don’t mind. I do not want to presume that your son would appreciate such familiarity between a servant and an employer. I am at your service, Mister Growstock, she said, addressing Gordon, as she looked him over with a shy smile. 

What she saw was an athletic-looking young man of above average height, a complexion betraying exposure to out-door living and an open and friendly face. His hair was slightly curly with a mere touch of red in it, betraying his Scottish roots. She liked him in spite of a vague impression that there was something amiss in his countenance. Yes, she knew what it was. A moustache! A hairy upper lip would turn his boyish face into a man’s…

*

Gordon permitted himself to settle down in his father’s massive mahogany chair, the chair that his father had vacated only yesterday. Now he was somewhere on the ocean, sailing southward. Mother had not gone with him this time, since she was easily affected by sea-sickness. She enjoyed a shorter voyage on the family yacht. Besides, Father had gone on business, and although she could have gone with him and enjoyed a vacation, it seemed a little too far for her at this time.

The polished brown desk held a number of documents that his father had been perusing only recently. He felt like an intruder as he began to sift through them. Rows and columns of figures covered the wide pages.  Tons of coal produced. Fluctuating prices. Costs and profits. This was confidential information, belonging to his father. And yet now he, Gordon, was entitled to know and understand these figures. More than that, he was expected to know, was under obligation to know, since he was the only heir to the family fortune and highly successful coal mining business.

He was disturbed by what he saw, by what these numbers represented. He stood up, looked out of the second-story window and began to count the Company houses where the miners and their families lived. After a while he gave up, lost in thought. How many of these miserable huts and shacks? It did not matter. If he needed to know, Sarah would tell him…He knew what the servant-filled mansion where his parents and he himself resided looked like. He could just make out the red tile roof and the dozen or so chimneys up on the hill, behind the magnificent original-growth trees. Did he really fully understand what these profit figures represented? And, above all, the share of profits that was allotted to his family and what was to be the portion of the miners and their families? He would ask Sarah.

Sarah entered his office, expecting to receive orders.

Sarah, I want to ask you something…Do these figures represent the share of the profits that our family gets and what is allotted to the miners and their families?

Yes, Mister Growstock! These are the latest numbers. Is there anything wrong with them?

Come with me to this window that overlooks the Atlantic Ocean.

Yes?

What do you see?

I see a stormy sea. The wind is picking up and I am getting worried about your father somewhere out on the open ocean. We may be in for a hurricane. Do you see anything different, Mister Growstock?

I also see the growing waves, and more. I see what is below these waves. I see miners labouring under that ocean, digging coal, risking their lives. Day after day, month after painful month, year after endless year. And such a huge percentage of the profits from their labour going to the few people living in that castle on the hill, the Growstock family. Sarah, I want you to tell me something…Do you think this is fair? Look out of this other window and compare these miserable hovels with the mansion where the Growstocks live in obscene affluence! Do you think this is fair, Sarah? Do you?

Sarah had not expected this. She was completely taken aback, speechless. Was Gordon testing her as to her loyalty to the Growstock family? Or was he really interested in fairness? She would have to be careful…

Please, Mister Growstock, do not ask me this… The world is full of unfairness, and there are many ways of looking at a situation. The family living in the castle on the hill has invested a lot of money and effort in developing the mine, and deserves a return on their investment. On the other hand, the miners feel that they also deserve recognition and a larger share of the profits. But my opinion does not matter.

Now it was Gordon’s turn to become speechless. This girl was wise beyond her years! He was beginning to see why his father had such a high opinion of Sarah. For the time being, he would not pursue the matter any further.      

Look! It is four o’clock already. When do you go home usually?

That was all he could think of to say. He would have to go home and turn over in his mind what Sarah had just said. She was right, of course. And he was glad. He had found an ally, a kindred spirit.   

At six in the evening, sir.

Are you very busy with your work right now?

To be truthful, I am all caught up with it for the day. Is there anything you would want me to work on right now?

No! Let’s close the office and go home. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow I would like you to get me some work clothes, and a pick and a shovel. And I would like you to advise one of the coal-face foremen that there will be a new miner joining the crew. I am going into the mine undercover, incognito, and put in a day’s work. And, oh yes, would you please prepare some lunch for me, and some drink of whatever the other miners drink. Thank you! Good night, Sarah!

Sarah’s head was spinning with a thousand thoughts. Like a thousand voices. Pleasant voices. How different Gordon was from his father! His father had never actually been in the mine. He had peeked in at the two tunnels, the one where miners entered and exited, and the other, where the coal wagons came out, pulled by donkeys and supervised by boys. But, that was as far as he had gone. He had never really seen the hard and dangerous work that the miners were carrying on. But here his son was not only going to enter that dangerous mine, but was actually going to the coal face with a pick and shovel! She liked what Gordon was going to do. There were so many things she liked about Gordon. Even, if he had no moustache…

And suddenly, she felt a pang of panic. Gordon was entering a very dangerous work environment. Deadly accidents had occurred in coal mines. Only recently, a mine not far from Brownsbury had experienced a ‘bump’. A section of roof had collapsed, causing a minor earthquake. There had been fatalities.

But Gordon was a mining engineer. He would work safely, wouldn’t he? He would spot any possible danger, wouldn’t he? This was a comforting thought and it brought a shadow of a smile on her serious face. Here she was beginning to worry about this young man she had only recently met, just like a miner’s wife would. She would have to get hold of her emotions, find him his clothes, his tools, his lunch and his drink, that was all. He was the employer, she was the employee…

*

The twelve-man coal-face crew that Gordon was assigned to was under the supervision of Big Bill Blatherman. Mister William Magnus Blatherman was, in fact, a tall and powerfully built veteran miner. A tireless worker, he was known to be overly demanding of his team at times. At times, yes. There were also days when he was the most amiable and easy-going of companions, the relaxed rhythm of his movements reflecting his mellow mood. But then there were days when he attacked the coal face furiously, seemingly determined to wear out his pick and shovel in one day. These were the days when he did not want to talk to anybody. Men who had worked beside him for some time knew that on such days Big Bill hated to be disobeyed or contradicted. On such days Bill pushed his luck beyond safe mining practises. He neglected to properly oversee the shoring up of the ceiling and the walls of the tunnel, to closely inspect the coal seam for signs of small cracks that could have been indications of coming structural collapse. His thoughts were not on his work. They were elsewhere…

Theodore Tellerall, his second-in-command, believed he knew what troubled Big Bill on those unpleasant days. It was his concern for his family. He had six children. The eldest, a son, had recently begun working in the mine. On another work shift, --- the night shift. Bill had purposely arranged to have his son assigned to another section of the mine. He had seen tragic accidents in which two breadwinners in the same family had been killed, leaving the rest of the family destitute. He was determined that this was not going to happen to his family. 

Like many other miners, Big Bill had expressed his frustration with not being able to contribute more towards his family’s welfare. He seemed to be running in circles. In his early forties, he was approaching the end of his working life. Many men his age had died by now of black lung disease and recently he had come to believe that he also had the symptoms. He had not wanted his son to come to work in the mine. He had wanted to provide for his son’s education, but there had been no choice. No matter how hard he laboured, he seemed to be making no headway. His talented son would have to start working in this death-trap in his late teens, and die young, if not of a disease prevalent in mines, then in an accident. There were so many horrific ways to die in a mine accident. A man could find himself under the unforgiving iron wheels of a wagon. He could get squeezed between moving machinery. Explosions, tunnel collapses and floods were a common occurrence.

It was on such a bad day that a new miner was assigned to work under his supervision. The young man was a vigorous worker, but he kept asking too many questions. About ceiling support arrangements, escape routes in case of explosions, the integrity of tunnel walls, and on and on. Bill was annoyed. He did not want to talk to anybody. He was not in the mood. He wanted to be left alone, to be miserable alone. He wanted the new miner to stick to his pick-and-shovel work and leave Bill to worry about the safety concerns. Such nervous talk in the front of his fellow miners would make them jumpy, and jumpy men have accidents.

And then it happened. The last straw. Suddenly, the nosy stranger yelled: Everybody! Back up and get out! Run! The wall is about to collapse!

A dozen miners rushed past toward the exit, toward safety.

Look, Bill! That crack is getting wider!

Bill was not interested. A small fissure in a solid mass of coal was not a bad thing. There would be need to use gunpowder in this instance to loosen up the material.

But this was no small, common, fissure. The countless tons of solid sediment that had sat for eons atop the coal seam were turning into original loose sand, the newly liberated grains mixing in with fine coal dust. With each swing of the sharp pick, the danger to the people below increased. An unusually large stone fragment came loose from the left wall and narrowly missed an energetic miner, as it rolled past him.

Did everyone hear that? That crack? That sharp, loud shot from a non-existing starting pistol? Surely, that was a warning!

See what you’ve done, Mister! Bill roared. You’ve started a panic! Now, the alarm will spread through the mine and every man will run away from his work station. How dare you! I’m the one who gives the orders around here!

But the young man had given him a strong, and in Bill’s estimation, an uncalled-for provocative shove, and urged him to run. Did the young troublemaker think that he, Big Bill, was a coward? That he would flee like a rabbit, every time there was a little crack in the coal?

Theo Tellerall stopped running and turned around to see what was happening. He saw the new miner give Bill a powerful shove. To the best of Theo’s recollection, no one had ever pushed Big Bill around and got away with it, so he wasn’t the least surprised to see Bill’s heavy fist land in the young whippersnapper’s unscarred face. 

The dazed stranger struggled back up onto his feet, only to hear Bill roar the bad news: you’re fired!

Then, calling to Tellerall, Bill ordered the insubordinate young wannabe miner to be taken to the front office to collect his pay, and never to come back!

Suddenly, after having taken no more than thirty steps on their way out, the calamity occurred.  Not only the left wall, but also the roof collapsed!

Gordon turned around and saw Bill stagger out of the cloud of coal dust, apparently unhurt. He turned to Tellerall, and managed to shout: I’ll find my own way back to the office. Your boss needs you here.

The Bump

When Sarah felt the bump, her heart turned cold. Gordon was dead! And just when she was beginning to like him, to work by his side, to learn more about him. She hated this mine! She hated all mines! Such places had caused hundreds of wives to lose their husbands, fathers and mothers to lose their sons, young women to lose their sweethearts. And now, Gordon also was gone. The finest young man she had ever met, a man of such great potential! Now he lay buried under tons and tons of broken rock rubble and heavy slabs of coal. Did he die instantly or was he slowly suffocating even at this moment?

She collapsed into her chair, awaiting reports of casualties, prepared, if at all possible to be fully prepared under these suspenseful circumstances, to receive the bad news. Someone would soon come and tell her how many this time, how many others besides Gordon.  Through the open window, she could clearly hear the miners’ wives at the adit, the mine’s entrance, their worried voices and their wailing. The grieving process had already begun.

And then, unexpectedly, the wailing turned to cheering. Apparently, there was some good news! She rushed to the window, listened closely and heard a glad voice announce: All the miners are safe! No one is hurt! The incredible message was repeated again and again, from one worried person to the next, until the former wailing had become a happy babble of relieved voices.

And there was Gordon, staggering his way out of the tunnel, out of his grave. He seemed hurt, unsteady on his feet, but alive!

She hurried down the stairs, and without thinking what she was doing or why, she rushed up to him and hugged him.

Oh Gordon, you are hurt! Here, let me help you!

Carefully, step by wobbly step, they reached the office.

Sit down here and let me clean you up! I was so worried about you. A chunk of coal has hit you in the eye.

That was not a piece of coal. That was Big Bill Blatherman’s iron fist.

Big Bill did that to you? You hit him back, I hope.

I didn’t get a chance. He got me good.

Why would he do that to you, the big bully?

For insubordination. He fired me, too!

You must have been really bad to deserve all that, you naughty boy!

She caught herself suddenly. Her relief at seeing him safe had led to familiarity and levity.

Forgive me for making light of such a serious matter, Mister Growstock! My remarks were quite out of place.

Please call me Gordon!

He was about to add that he was glad that someone cared for him and had been worried about him, but they were interrupted by the appearance of Theodore Tellerall.

Theo had managed to shake off most of the coal dust from his clothing, had smeared his dirty face with something damp, and now stood at attention in the doorway. Yes, it was the young miner! What was he doing in the big boss’ office, being tended to by Sarah, the private secretary?

Yes, Theo? What is it? Do you have news for us? the young man enquired pleasantly.

I am surprised to find you here in the main office. I was looking for you elsewhere.

I understand. You have a message?

Yes, from Big Bill. He sent me after you; to find you. He is expecting you back in the mine as soon as the debris has been cleared. He says that he appreciates now your alertness and the warning that you sounded. He says that he would like it if you were to continue working on his crew. He thinks that you will go a long way with this coal mining company.

Is he apologizing for assaulting the young Mister Growstock?  Sarah wanted to know.

Theodore leaned against the doorpost, seeking support. The young Mister Growstock? Howard Growstock’s son? The young boss?

The same. Gordon is the name.

Well, well! Am I glad that I was not the one to poke you in the eye! No, Bill said that he did not apologize for that. He said that what he did was Company policy; that it was a credit towards any future insubordination.

Even before Theodore Tellerall had arrived, Gordon had sent for Bill. To receive a first-hand accident report, he said. Sarah wondered what Gordon was going to do to him…

What Gordon did to Bill Blatherman was not exactly what she had expected. But, then again, she was not overly surprised. Gordon was an unusual man.

Bill had arrived and told Sarah that Mister Growstock had sent for him.

The elder Mister Growstock is not in today, but his son is replacing him. He is expecting you, Sarah clarified.

Big Bill’s bad day took a turn to even worse. When he saw Gordon sitting behind the desk that belonged to the big boss, he almost lost his balance. Yes! There was the young man that he had punched in the face not so very long ago! There was no doubt about it. The eye was turning black already. He had attacked the mine owner’s only son! His world was collapsing around him. He would be fired, that was for sure! But, would he receive other punishment besides?

What was the young boss saying? Asking him to take a seat? Why?

Sarah, would you be so kind as to bring Mister Blatherman something refreshing to drink! He has had a hectic day. He has had to deal with a mining mishap and a severe case of insubordination.

Bill was beginning to relax a little. But, just a little. Was the young boss playing cruel games with him?

Tell me about yourself, Bill. How long have you been working here?

Over twenty years, sir! I started at eighteen.

Do you have any children?

We have six. Our eldest son started on the night shift about a month ago.

But, why such personal questions when he was about to lose his job?

Does your son like mining?

Well, to be truthful, sir, he would rather become an architect. But, there is no way our family can pay for his education. Not with all these mouths to feed.

An architect? That interests me! Do you think he would make a good architect?

I am sure of it. He is crazy about building. He keeps making sketches of all these fancy houses he wants to build. But it’s just a young lad’s dream…

Perhaps not, Bill! Maybe something can be worked out. I would like to talk to him and yourself tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. Take the day off from work. With pay. Have Tellerall replace you. And I would like to see your son’s sketches.

Thank you, sir! I don’t know what to say!

Before you go, Bill, I would like to give you a little something to help you with the expenses of your large family. Consider it as a small bonus in appreciation for your many years of faithful service.

Sarah noticed Gordon secreting twenty dollars in Big Bill’s pocket. Twenty dollars! Bill was earning 90 cents a day!

Bill left, confused, and murmuring thanks. In the future, if anyone should say anything derogatory about the young boss, he would put extra oomph into his punch!

Your new boss is unbelievable, Miss Silversoul, he said on his way out.

I know it, Mister Blatherman. The man is a phenomenon!

Bill did not know what that word meant, but it explained everything. Gordon was not a normal person. He was not a normal boss. He was a phenomenon.

The Storm

As usual, the newspaper arrived from Halifax. As on all other days, Sarah was the first one to look it over. It was part of her job. She would point out to her employer, the senior Mister Growstock, the stories and news that would be of interest to him. This saved her employer a lot of time; time that Howard Growstock preferred to spend away from the office. For years he had not made any changes in how the coal mine was run. He had given no pay increases; he had shown no interest in improving the living conditions of the miners nor their families. In his opinion, things were getting along just fine…

He would drop in at the office around ten in the morning, check the financial balance sheet, deal with some of the most interesting correspondence, get bored, and pass it on for Sarah to handle. He would then glance at the news items that Sarah had circled, read one or two of them, and leave for a long lunch. There was a time when he would drop in for a look in the afternoon, but lately such visits were becoming less and less frequent. He had an excellent staff under the oversight of Miss Sarah Silversoul, and all work was properly taken care of as far as he knew, or really cared to know. He understood the financial balance sheet perfectly. Problems upset him. They interfered with his healthy appetite. That is what he had hired Sarah for --- to deal with problems.

Hiring Sarah, the local miller’s daughter, had been a stroke of luck. But, had it been luck, or had it really been another manifestation of genius on his part? He believed it to be the latter. He was sitting atop a coal mining empire, a most profitable one. How many other men had achieved this? Surely, he was a genius! He had continued with a steady hand at the helm of the company, after taking over from his father. He had not risked anything new, had resisted innovations, vetoed any proposed changes, and fondly hoped that his son would continue this wise and profitable course.

And although Sarah was not a genius, since no woman could be a genius, as was widely accepted and possibly even scientifically proven in masculine circles, Sarah came as close as possible for a woman to be one. Moreover, Sarah had never rocked the boat. That was his philosophy in life: Do not rock the boat! Leave things as they are!

When Sarah saw the alarming headline, she said to herself: Mister Growstock, you will get your boat rocked, whether you like it or not!  The next instant she was glad that she had not said these words out loud, but had merely thought them. The matter was much too serious for poetic cleverness. No, the alarming headline was much too serious. It screamed: MONSTER HURRICANE BATTERS ATLANTIC COAST! DOZENS OF VESSELS LOST!

Sarah was undecided. Should she show the paper to Gordon right away, or wait till he had finished with his appointments, including the one with the Blathermans? She knew he had been worried about his father. Would such news distract and upset him?

No! She would not get into the habit of keeping things from him. She would be his confidential friend, his support and loyal companion, sharing whatever life would throw at him, the good and the bad. She had had the full trust of the elder Growstock, and she