This week:
Milton meets.

his contractors

S Milton Jovial watched
A the locals poke, feel and
peek their way through
his pristine new sawmill, he won-

_ dered what they really thought of

it all.
decided.

After all, what did they know
about the 18 months of hard work
and more than $51 million it took
to get to this day? Actually, his
investment to date was much more
than $51 million. That figure
didn’! include fees for Herby
Squish, the construction of logging
roads and bridges... and wages for
people like his logging foreman,
Jack Block.

The curiosity-seekers outside his
office window probably didn’t
know about the outcry from envi-
Tonmentalisis and preservationists
at the public meeting where Squish
had presented his forest licence
applications. Or did they? Perhaps
these were the same people. Still,
they probably didn’t understand the
complexities of the business. There
are rules. You can't just cut and
run. You have to plant new trees...
and tend to them for the first five
to 10 years of their life.

They probably didn’t know —
and probably wouldn’t care if they

Probably not a lot, he

did — about his fight for per-

mission to export his own pulp
chips. According to current esti-
mates, selling his pulp chips on the
domestic market was going to
carve about $8.5 million out of his

annual net profit. These people
probably didn’t know all these
things... Particularly this last item,
which was cause for a great deal
of subconscious concern. There
was no room for error. Jovial
Logging Inc. had to be a smooth,
tightly run operation if it was
going to succeed.

Sharp rap on his office
A door jarred Jovial back to

reality. Jack Block
opened the door far enough to
poke his head through. "You ready
for us?" Jovial nodded his assent,
and as Block and his contractors
entered his office he motioned
them to a table on the far side of
the room. Jovial and Block sat on
one side of the table, the five
contractors on the other.

"Joviat Logging Inc. is going to
be a smooth, tightly run opera-
tion,” Jovial began. "There is no
room for error." He paused to let
that concept sink into their minds
and then turned to Block. "Snatch,
I want you to run over the high-
lights of the rules, production
target and bonus system so we’re
absolutely certain there is no mis-
understanding."

Block hated that nickname. But
he’d worn it for so long he gen-
erally ignored it; particularly when
the offender was the same person
who signed his pay cheques. "Yes
sir, Mister Jovial." And to the
contractors, "It’s Mister Block to
you." From past experience,

though, Block knew the "Mister"

wouldn’t last long. The temptation
to use "Snatch" was just too great.

"You people have all signed
contracts for the harvesting of
block one of cutting permit one in
the Clutch Creek area," Block
began. "Do a good job, and there'll
be a lot more work for you in the
future. Basically, the rules are
simple. If you haven’t already

‘Terrace Revier Ww —

by Tod Strachan, in consultation with Rod Arnold and Doug Davies

contract rates and then answer any
questions. The rates are based on
the work, equipment and equip-
ment maintenance you would nor-
mally expect." And with that, he
ran down the list. Jimmy Snipe,
the faller, would get $2 per cubic
metre. Demitrias Rowe (he pur-
posely avoided the nickname
"Skid" for fear of reprisals) would
get $5 for yarding the logs from

"Jovial Logging

going to be a

smooth, tightly run operation," Jovial
began. "There is no room for error."

done so, every one of you must
purchase two million dollars in
liability insurance. This will cover
you for things like damage due to
fire, vandalism or theft, third party
- liability, and injury or death. Also,
you’re on a bonus penalty system;
the basic rule of thumb is mini-
mize pulp and maximize saw logs.
Our goal, for this particular site, is
twelve loads of logs a day.

"Now, I'll briefly go over your

The Way I
See It...

by Stephanie Wiebe

I hate ironing. Ironing is a
despicable activity, barely toler-
able through the winter months
only because of the radiant heat.
In December, if I have to choose
between shovelling three feet of
snow outside in sub-zero weather,
or watching "Oprah" while slid-
ing a heated appliance across
cotton shirts, I'll iron.

But in May, I just Aare ironing,
I'll do anything to avoid it. To be
ecological, we use a clothesline,
but everything is eventually
tossed into the clothes dryer for
easy de-wrinkling. When the
dryer quits, I'll race through the
house, knocking house plants and
small children aside, to grab hot
t-shirts and jeans before they
wrinkle, [If 1 forget, we wear
them "as is".

It wasn’t always this way.
Years ago, I had an ironing
passion. I must’ve been aiming
for the “Mom of the Year" award
when I touched up tiny puffed
dress sleeves with steam and
spray slarch. A poinly-nosed
woman in a store once com-
mented on my daughter's freshly-
ironed dress. "It's so nice to see a
young mother taking the time to

iron nowadays." The woman
droned on and on about sharp
creases in children’s pants and
flat collars on little shirts, She
had me convinced that wrinkled
sweatshirts would doom my
children to a miserable life of
poverty, crime and close encoun-
ters of the third kind. Looking
back on the incident, I now real-
ize she was a plainclothes Proc-
tor-Silex representative. At the
time, though, her speech only
encouraged my heavy starch
dependency.

Slowly, I became an ironing

snob. I began to look down upon
uncreased shirt sleeves as "second
class". Wrinkled pants were
totally unacceptable, as were t-
Shirts with curled cdges. I was
obsessed. I would iron any non-
moving object that could be
stretched across an ironing board
—— an occasional yawn was the
cat’s only saving grace.

Over the years, the ironing
basket grew full. As family laun-
dry increased, so did my dislike
for ironing. Soon, the basket was
chronically overflowing from
negiect. The kids’ clothes went

in, and were often outgrown
before they emerged again. Par-
ticularly difficult-to-iron items
simply disappeared into that
black hole of laundry where odd
socks go, never to be seen again.

Though I still occasionally
ironed, I became more discerning
about the clothes to be ironed. I
developed a philosophy: if there’s
a chance the queen might see it,
iron it. Otherwise, it’s not worth
the effort. When the "wrinkled
cotton" look came into fashion, |
jumped right into the trend. I
usually buck against any fashion-
able fad, but this one was worth
‘Supporting. I know a good cause
when I see one.

] began to appreciate the acs-
thetic value of wrinkles — the
way they blend into one another
like a map of rivers, how the
light hits the tip of each fold and
skips across to the next.

Then one night, as T was doing
something far more constructive
than ironing, like staring blankly
into space, I was enlightened with
an ironing truth so profound that
it could only have come from a
higher power: When we come
into this world we are tiny and
wrinkled, and when we leave it,
we are larger, but again
wrinkled. It’s only in-between
that we waste our energies
keeping things smooth, The inter-
esting parts involve wrinkles.
Obviously, that’s the way it's
meant to be,

the bush to the landing. Eddie Lim
would get $1.05 for bucking and
limbing. Johnny Bight would get
$3 per cubic metre for loading the
logs onto Willy Wheeler's truck.
Wheeler would operate indepen-
dently from the others and was
contracted for a rate ranging
between $6 and $12 per cubic
meter, depending on the distance
from the logging site to the mill.
For this first harvesting site in the
Clutch Valley, the rate had been
set at $8 per cubic meter. These
agreed-upon rates set Jovial’s
logging costs at $11.05 per cubic

~ metre on the truck and $19.05 per

cubic metre at the mill.

The brevity of Block's presenta-
tion left the contractors with a
number of points to clarify. Most
importantly, they all wanted further
Clarification on the bonus penalty

~ system.

Block explained that Jovial
expected quality of wood from the
harvest to be 95 percent, and all
five contractors would share
equally in a one percent bonus or
penalty for each percentage point
wood quality was higher or lower
than the 95 percent standard. And
this raised another question... Who
was responsible for scaling the
wood? "Mister Jovial," answered
Block.

Snipe and Lim wanted to know
More about maximizing saw logs.
Block explained that the minimum

Wednesday, May 1, 1991 "AT

saw log length would be 10 feet,
six inches and that he would be
looking for things like breakage
caused by poor falling practices
and bucking low quality ends
longer than necessary. "Oh. One
other point Snipe... Make sure you
fall the trees with the butt end
facing the skid trail.”

Rowe wanted more detail on the
skid trails. Block explained that the
maximum distance would be 900
feet and the average would be 600
feet. Also, adverse skidding dis-
tances over rough ground or with
slopes greater than 10 percent
would not exceed 300 feet. And
Bight wanted assurance that land-
ing sites would be adequate for an
efficient operation. "Not to worry,"
said Block. "All landings will be at
least three-quarters of an acre.
Guaranteed.”

Finally, Wheeler wanted to hear
Block say that road maintenance
would be adequate. "No problem,"
offered Jovial. "That’s my respon-
sibility and Snatch has hired a
private contractor on my behalf...
You might know him. ’Rocky’
Rhodes? Good man... Plenty of
experience in the bush I’m told.

“But your question brings some-
thing to mind that Snatch might
have missed, Wheeler... Everyone.
There will be a gate on the main
road into Clutch Valley... The last
man out each day is responsible to
see that gate is locked."

Block was a little annoyed that
Jovial had accused him of missing
something so important but
shrugged it off as a triviality. “Any
more questions?" he asked the
men.

Then, turning to Jovial: "There
are a couple of other contracts to
go over but one of the men wasn’t
available today. I've set a meeting
for next week... If that’s all right
with you sir." Jovial approved the
meeting, but only after expressing
concern over Block’s ability. He
must, he had decided earlier in the
day, keep this man in line.

"You forgot about the gate," he
said bluntly. "Don’t let it happen
again."

Pifer — Continued from page AG

They remain confident they
can turn it around and cash in
on the province-wide relief that
Vander Zalm is gone.

@ Also waiting to enter the
thick of any leadership battle
are some of the young Turks
amid the Socred ranks — keen
political junkies who will be of
value to the respective camps.

These include former
ministerial assistants Peter
Wearing and Michael

Michener, Socred research boss
Martin Brown, and former par-
ty field organizers such as Sur-
rey’s Tar Bhulilar.

None of them are naming
their favourites, but all of them
are likely to be wi ded once the
candidates get into narness.

And although their names
mean little or nothing to the
average voter or leadership
delegate, their influence will be
substantial as to the outcome,