• Sunday-What'sUP November 18 - 11:14 pm

In the fall of 1945 mining was alive and well in the Copper Country. Each day as a miner's shift began, they would often refer to the transition as "waiting in the dry". These four gents are all set to spend their day underground, from left to right: Frank Perona, Art Dahlgren, John Silva, and Einard Ollila.

Einard and his family lived at Gratiot Location, where their household included 2 boys, who made their marks in ways other than mining. Heine Ollila was a giant of a man you might recall if you ever ate at The Hut in Kearsarge on any given weekend back in the 90's. Heine played guitar on Friday and Saturday nights, along with his young sidekick Steve Jones. Heine spent a lot of time in the woods, but those big calloused hands could strum some fine tunes.

Another of Einard's sons grew up to become the Chancellor of Northland Baptist Bible College in Dunbar, Wisconsin. Les Ollila has appeared on these pages before, as I recall one time at Big Buck Night in Dollar Bay with Pastor Hart, the man who used to shuttle him to Sunday School from Gratiot Location back in the early days.

Good morning!

good morning

My you are early this morning, Susan! Good mornin to you as well and everybody else out there. We have a little snow in the air here this morning in Monclova, Ohio! Sigh, I can only hope for many inches.

For Halloween (yes, even the teachers dress up) this year I went as
a miner. I wore a hat just like these guys and carried a metal lunch
bucket. The other day my heart beat with pride when another staff
member called out, "How's it going, Copper Miner's
granddaughter?" I'm also an iron miner's granddaughter.


This is a BIG part of our history. I'm considering going as Big Annie
next year!

I remember Haney Ollila playing at the Hut. He was a big guy, and the guitar by comparison seemed the size of a ukulele.

While I was Googling to see the correct spelling of "ukulele", I ran across an amazing video that reminds me of the style Haney used to play: While my Guitar (Ukulele) Gently Weeps

RdIowa, when you are looking for correct spellings, this is a good reference:
http://dictionary.reference.com/

Thanks for the memories, Charlie.

I have been thinking of those mines and miners lately. Is there
(or are there) a good history discussing the end of underground
mining up in the Copper Country back in the 1940s and 1950s?
Or could you say the end began way back after World War I when
the price of copper began to fall? Whenever, who tells that
story? -- And while I am musing on that, who can tell me a
good history to look at that tells the story of the Gogebic Iron
Range and the Menominee Iron Range?

Here's a handy dictionary. It's a free download, so works off-line as well:
http://wordweb.info/free/

Here is a great list of mines in Michigan that may be of help to all historians or relatives of miners of the "olden days"
http://www.michiganrailroads.com/RRHX/Mining/MiningMenu.htm

Wow, I went to the site for While My Guitar (Ukulele) Gently Weeps......that was incredible. I think John Lennon would be impressed! Thanks for the heads up on that one RD,Iowa.

Anita - John might be impressed, but it was another Beattle who wrote the song, George Harrison.

I stand corrected!! Thank you RD :))

Charlesinesky: A good place to start would be Larry Lankton's "Cradle to grave". It gives a great timeline of events of mining in the copper country including the end of the mining era.

I would love to talk about it more, but my desktop decided to poop out so I'm writing this on a PDA..........joy!!

For the miners.

My father was a miner, He worked deep underground;
The rush of drams and clanking chains. They were his daily sounds.
He worked so far below the ground, Where coal was hewed by pick,
The work so hard and wages small He didn't dare go sick.
He crawled upon his belly. In drifts so low and narrow,
The wind it whistled down the shaft. It chilled him to the marrow.
He ate his food from a Tommy box, Shaped like a slice of bread,
While squatting down upon the ground, Where spit and crumbs were shed.
His water, it was in a Jack, to wet down clouds of dust,
That gathered in his throat and lungs. Where it formed a deadly crust.
We would listen for his footsteps, He then come into sight:
This man, our Dad, as black as black, just like the darkest night;
His bath was always ready, Set down in front of fire,
My mother then would wash his back , and tell us to retire;
Right down his back white rivers ran amongst the dirt and grime,
But you cannot wash away blue scars. That you get down in the mine.
Years now have passed. My father gone, But I am proud to say,
MY FATHER WAS A MINER, UNTIL HIS DYING DAY

My greatgrandfather, Isaac Harri Sr died in the Osceola mine fire in 1895. My dad also was hurt in the mine. I think it was the Mohawk #3 but he also worked in the Ahmeek mine.

One of my grandpas lost his job after the Big Strike in 1913. He
ended up a farmer, and he wasn't all that good at it. The other had
a heart attack in a mining accident and ended up being a school
bus driver. Still and all, like Snowman's and Ilmayksi 's entries
said, we're proud of how hard they worked to pave the way for
future generations.

Snowman (Snowman):
"The rush of drams …"}

More likely 'twas the rush of trams …
unless that 'rush' was da result of tippling 'drams' at da dramshop!

In 1920, young boys worked the narrow seams of one foot coal for 25 cents a day. Such was the schooling for a twelve year old in West Virginia.

Frnash, I'm sitting here laughing so hard that I'm starting to melt! Sorry folks and thanks for the correction Frnash. :)

I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Perona years ago at his home in 1982. He had a wonderful mineral collection, and some of his specimen is displayed in the Smithsonian (like the world’s largest Isle Royale Greenstone). He was a true gentleman and a heck of a rock hound. My only regret was that I did not get to spend more time talking to him or his wife. Glad his memory and honor are preserved in this photo. THANKS pasty cam!