The
Forest Around Us |
Comment By Bill Moore |
I
need a whatchamacallit for the gizzmo |
....There
are big yellow, black, and purple machines at work in this forest around
us. But far more interesting than all the iron monsters are the people
who either run the rigs, work near them, service them or stand back and
shake their fists at them The people. And until the day when some smart
young fellow invents a button pushing device that a chap can sit home
in his rocker–feet by the fire, martini in hand–and command
the iron thing to go get logs, the people will always be more interesting. ....It takes a lot of folks to bring trees to the market-place. And it takes a lot of talent to run some of the gold-plated log loaders, Cats, mobile towers and log trucks in use every day on the shores of the Pacific. And it’s not only just running them that takes the talent–it’s the servicing and repairing of these machines that requires a cool hand and a nimble mind. ....To a logger such as myself, weaned on an old 11 x 13 Willamette steam donkey, the dinosaurs of the woods today fill the mind with confusion and empty the pocket-book of coin. I’m sure somewhere there is a big sound-proof room where they put the geniuses who invent these monsters. I’ve been near tempted to ask if for a few |
pennies more, could one
modify some of the new yarding towers into a Titan spaceship! ....Well, I’m not belittling these big machines. I’m just saying they scare me. The price and the size. Whatever happened to the good old 10–10 Lawrence donkey? Now, there was a machine. Five thousand bucks and you were in business. Ah, the good old days! ....And thinking of those so-called good old days–and a few good ones yet to come–I can’t help but speak of certain individuals who were and are very much a part of the scene of this forest around us. I speak of the “parts man,” that tower of knowledge who most good machinery houses employ to translate the loggers’ language into intelligent part’s numbers. ....So the big iron thing broke down, and the woods are full of logs, and the foreman is biting nails, and the mechanic is scratching his head. It just happens there’s no page in the parts book covering this particular breakdown. No problem! The good old “parts man” will know, ‘cause all he’s got to do is to sit there by the telephone in Vancouver waiting for some logger to call help. ..............................................(Continued on next page) |
74 | British Columbia Lumberman,
January, 1976 |
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....“Hello, parts man, this is
Potts Logging Co. calling. We need a What-chamacallit for the Gizzmo.
It’s the one right next to the square shaft. It’s got an
old number stamped on it but I can only read the number seven on it–or
maybe it’s nine. Anyway I need it five minutes ago.” |
....Now
a phone call for a part might sound like this – “Hello, Potts
Ultra Log-ging Co. here–I want a black start button for our new
computer on your new Model Y is it.” ....“Well, sir, let me see – I’ll send a Telex to our shops in Paris, Kobe and Battle Creek and see if they have one. We’re fresh out as there’s a strike in our red button factory in Brisbane, but we’ll do our best sir to get it to you in seven months.” ....Now if you think this is silly–you haven’t ordered parts since yesterday. It’s a whole new ballgame and between strikes and foul-ups you’re the victim of world wide machinery. They now tell you things like–“I’ll phone Montreal and see if they have |
one left or I think Fresno
has one.” Every logging outfit has to come with a world atlas now
or they won’t know where to get bearings on their ball-joints. Leaping
Lizards Sandy–where’s my 10-10 Lawrence! Keep out of the bight, ................ |
British Columbia Lumberman, January, 1976 | 75 |