Thursday, August 28, 1930. It-was Lars’ first day on the job. He spent a good deal of
the morning learning the ropes in Clair Giggey’s four-mile mill. In the afternoon he
climbed into the passenger side of what Clair Giggey claimed to be the first logging
truck ever used in Terrace. Lars was thrilled. Giggey and his logging truck were legends
in his mind. a

Horses were still used, Giggey explained over the harsh chug and occasional
cough of the engine. It was just that the distance between the mill and his logging
operation was growing and he had found a few years earlier that the truck gave —
him a great advantage over the competition.
The early afternoon ride into the Northwest Canadian forest was somewhat of
a thrill for Lars. And a bit of an eye-opener, too. Things were done very different
here. The men looked the same. The falling and bucking saws were the same.
The site of Belgian horses dragging timber down skid trails was familiar. But
the closeness of the mountains and the way in which logging was carried out in
general astounded Lars.
“Why do you waste so many trees?” Lars asked innocently. It had occurred to
him that Clair might become angry with such criticism from a newcomer, but it
was a question he felt needed to be asked. His Uncle Hedy had taught him that
all trees were valuable. Some a little less than others, but even an imperfect
tree could be carefully milled to produce things of worth.

Lars had noted earlier in the day, though, that Giggey’s mill was not
designed with this thought in mind. Dimension lumber. That’s all they
produced. Any “waste material” not left in the bush was burned at the
mill site. “Irresponsible,” Lars had muttered under his breath when he

witnessed the destruction.

Clair Giggey wasn’t angry at Lars’ forthright
inquiry, however. Lars was surprised, in fact, when he
laughed. © ee

“You're not the first Swede to move to this coun-.
try,” he stated finally with the measured patience
of a first grade teacher. “And you won't be the last

Swede to learn the -ways of the modern world.”

Clair then marched a short distance to the:
top of a small rise and with a sweeping motion of
his right arm concluded: “This is real logging

Lars... Not the garden party you're used to.

Understand that simple truth. Forget all your

old ideas. And you'll get along just fine.”

Lars was far from convinced, but said
nothing. Understand? That might prove
difficult. Watch and analyze, perhaps...
But learn? Lars hada secret ambition to
form his own logging company someday,

and he believed he just might be able to

teach the locals a thing or two. In the

meantime, he decided, it would be best to
bide his time and do things Clair’s way.

‘In consultation wit