More South Crofty Recollections.
A bit more I remember, not all written in a storyville fashion or any particular chronological order.
I remember a couple of days after I started, it was after the shift in the dry, I was stripped off ready for a shower, those that remember will remember that the lockers were in long rows, my locker was on the right hand side opposite the windowed wall as you came into the dry from the passage from the headframe, I had gotten to the top end of my row to hook right, I ran into an old boy, he was the dryman, I was confronted with one of his arms that was just a stump where his hand once was, he said you're a new boy arn't you, you watch yourself down there. (me trembles)
I asked him what had happened to his hand, he just looked at me blank, he wasn't going to tell me, a day or so later I asked some of the older miners, they said the story was that he was tramming dirt from one of the stopes and a chute hung up he had stuck something and his forearm up the gob of the chute and a bigun came down, not sure if it severed his hand there and then or if it was amputated later, I can see him now, I never knew his name but everyone called him “Puff”
Minor accidents were frequent and occasionally there were more serious accidents and death.
I briefly worked with a bloke on 310 fathom level, I will not mention his name, he used to skimp a bit on barring down, I used to climb up into the stope while he was having his wake up brew and start to hose down the dust from the previous blast, he would come up the stope and say havn't you finished that yet, get the machine rigged up, he would grab a pinch bar, a quick couple of taps and off he would go drilling, bit's falling down as expected.
After I left the mine I heard that he had been killed in some stope or other, a large slab came of the hanging wall or roof from all accounts.
In the hot stopes sometimes very fine needles of granite would fly off and stick in your shoulder or back, you never felt them go in because of the heat, it was only when you started scratching an itch or something that you would notice blood on your fingers, we used to pick them out of each others backs, a bit like gorillas when they are pulling fleas off each other.
Sometimes we had to ride Cooks shaft, I don't think that the man riding compartments were in that shaft back then c '72-73 (maybe someone can clarify?)
If for some reason Robinsons shaft went down then it was an underground trek over to Cooks side, it's not that far as the crow flies but a bit of a trek underground.
310 fathom level at Robo's came out as 315 fathom at Cooks shaft.
Sometimes Saturday morning overtime was available doing various jobs, it usually meant riding Cooks as quite often Robo's would be undergoing shaft maintainance.
They used to unhook the skip and put a cage on, If you ever seen a picture of the old cage at King Eddy mine then you wouldn't be far off a description.
The ride down Cooks was a bit of a rattle, the timber shaft guides and setts were well hammered, it being the ore shaft and all that.
The trammer down on 315 was Mad Jimmy Treloar, he was a character, used to wear a skull cap, always talking to himself alone and when you were trying to talk with him, you could hear him miles away, the grizzly on 315 was set down from the level by a good three ft or more maybe, the GWR's were quite widely spaced, Jimmy would just jump straight down onto the grizzly with sledge in hand and no safety harness.
There was also a long drive that connected the South side of Robo's through to Cooks, the guys working Tincroft would use that, turning off part way.
Robo's also had a disconcerting quirk once in a while, when coming up not far from grass, the cage used to momentarily drop! Only an inch or so but it was enough to scare the hell out of a newbie, I put it down to the rope riding up the first turn or so of the next layer then slipping back off, not sure exactly if that was the cause but the effect was real..
Hygiene:
Crapping anywhere but in the sh*t bucket was serious, if found out then you could face the sack, pissing in open flowing drains was ok but nowhere else.
The Crap bucket on 310 was in a parallel sub drive off No:3 Lode, it was basically four posts with the odd board nailed on it and was covered in some old sackcloth, the bucket was an old Elsan bucket always full to the brim with white fungus growing on top, never any bog paper around, we used old cement bags covered in grit and stuff... Trouble was that not far away was a stope being pulled and if the trammer had to blow a hangup then it was a case of hanging on to yer hat if you were having a crap as the walls of the karsie shook and the sacking flapped up and down.
They took a new OC bloke on once and he was supposed to take the bucket backshaft for surface disposal, he dumped it down the ore pass, yeah you can imagine, stunk the place out, smells travel far underground, if I remember correct Eucalyptus Oil was introduced in to the air line in order to alert those underground of some emergency, fire maybe?
The croust seat area was kept reasonably clean, if bits of biscuit or butties were left lying around then they would go fungus and those jumpy little flea things would start breeding.
Croust was a relax time, time to have a laugh and tell a few stories and unwind for a bit.
I remember one occasion when we had a new OC lad working in the same section as we were, a machine man and myself were driving an end and further back a new stope was being worked by an older bloke called Lionel Keast, Old Lionel was a gas, he used to work in a pressurized shield years ago when he was driving the underground Tube tunnels up in London or somewhere and there was an accident in the shield resulting in a sudden pressure drop or something, blowing one of his eardrums so he was a bit hard of hearing, anyway we were all having croust one day and that young OC lad was with us, he had fallen asleep, I think he must have upset Lionel at some point, Lionel said I'm going to get that little f***er, he stuffed an electric det. under the croust seat and fired it off, poor lad jumped out of his skin and left shortly afterwards.
One of the drives was heading a long way North East ish, it was being driven by Jonny Allen and his mate Warren, we had the job of upgrading the main crosscut air line from 4 inch to 6 inch to give a better air supply, after that was done they said we could have the same job up on 260, we worked double shifts on that job, I remember it well, I was living in digs in Truro at that time with my girlfriend, my car was off the road so I used to pushbike to Crofty and back.
They were heading out East up on 260 and were a long way in, the drive was being driven by Mike Davies and his mate, I think Mike was from up Manchester way maybe?
The drive was a hell of a walk in, I think they were heading out towards Tolgus possibly.
A lot of the lads ran beaten up old cars, me included, some would try and silence the rattling big ends and gearbox by pouring air line feed machine oil in, it did the trick just enough to get rid of the car, never used it myself.
I think the shift bosses name on 260 was Fred Mounsey or Fred something? He had spent some years in the South African mines, the shift boss on 290 was Ronnie Opie, Ronnie would sometimes stand in for Jack Jervis when Jack was off, Jack became the regular shift boss on 310 during my time there, nice man was Jack, always did his best to see everyone right, his boy also worked on 310 for a while, he was the one that drilled and broke through into the old East Pool workings from that level, his mate was Alan Harvey I seem to remember.
I also worked with a miner called Les Hocking on 310 we were putting up a raise we were only about 40 ft up, Les slipped of the staging and went down the raise, I slid down the raise on my arse hanging on to the raise chain as I went, down the bottom was Les in a heap, bleeding, it was mainly from his nose I think, he was ok but he hadn't had his harness attached when working up there, he was off for a couple of days then returned to work.
Pay day was on a Friday, used to get paid in real money back then, the wage packet had the corner cut off so you could count the notes.
As far as I remember, market day in Redruth was on a Friday? The pubs were open for most of the day on Market day so we used to call in and sink a few.
At that time the new A30 was being built at Redruth and was heading Camborne way, the site was full of Irish guys, they would come into town on market day afternoon.
I was working with a Polish miner then, his name was Henry, I can't remember his surname but it began the the letter “P” Henry lived up Redruth way and when my car was on the road I would give him a lift to Redruth, I remember it well, I was running an old beaten up Frog eyed Sprite, Henry was a big bloke and it was a squeeze to get him into the seat, it was market day and we headed up to the Red Lion which was up Fore Street in Redruth, the place was packed with some Crofty lads and loads of Irish from the A30 job, me and Henry had managed to hustle a couple of spaces at the bar, we were doing ok, enjoying a drink and having a chat about this and that.
Anyway a fight broke out, don't know what the cause was, If you have ever seen one of those John Wayne saloon fights the I can only describe it as being like that shot for shot, fists, glasses, stools and tables flying, I was getting concerned as I did not have much meat on the bones back then, Henry just stood there supping his beer, I told Henry I was off out of there, he grabbed my arm and said you stay, finish drink, I didn't want to argue with Henry either so I stayed, the woman behind the bar had ducked down and phoned the police, two rookie coppers came in the front door, turned round and ran out so that was that, after about 15 minutes calm returned.
Ocasionally on the way to the mine early in the morning you would see the Irish guys on the A30 job, slumped in there diggers and machines still in there best suits from the night before, already to rock and roll.
Tyacks in Camborne was another haunt, lot's of Crofty lads in there of an evening, a right gas.
The main man for tramming during my time on 310 was Charlie Rizzo, he was from Italy, great guy was Charlie he would always offer me one of his roll ups when I was around. Charlie generally worked flat out, on the odd occasion you would hear him swearing in Italian and would almost be in tears, what's up Charlie? Chute hung up with a bigun? No, someone had let an ore wagon fall into a full but worked out stope from up on 290, they were bastards to get out, worse than any big rock, they don't blast very well. No wonder Charlie swore, anyone would.
I might have mentioned this before a while back but I will recall anyways, we were on dynamite duty back at the shaft station on 310, two dyni wagons would come down at a time, we pushed them up to the magazine for unloading and stacking, a stinkin' job that was, all was going well and the next loaded cage came down, it had the front shaft gate missing off the lower deck, how that wagon stayed in there is beyond me, the alarm was raised, the shaft was shut and we all had to make it over to Cooks side to get up. Apparently the shaft gate (which was a drop in type) was not located in the bottom lugs and was free to flap in and out as it went down the shaft, the shaft men found it about 300 ft or so down from grass all mangled up, must have hit one of the shaft setts on the way down. Hey ho.
That's about it folks, South Crofty Mine eh, I salute all that worked down there and those who are trying to bring back mining to that area.
Lozz.