ODDS’N’SODS — Blind man’s bluff

During the 1950s, uranium miners in Elliot Lake, Ont., were earning more than twice the salaries their peers were earning in the gold mines, and applicants for uranium mining positions there, so the story goes, were lined up like cattle, as they awaited their medical examinations.

One of those applicants was a fellow named Allan McPeak. He passed the first part of the medical with flying colors, though he didn’t fare very well on the next part, which was the eye exam. After reading the eye chart, Allan was told he needed glasses.

Quick-thinking Allan, who needed the job in the worst way, told the doctor that he had forgot his glasses at home. Of course, Allan didn’t wear glasses.

He was told, however, to report to the mine on Monday morning — with his glasses.

Allan’s buddy, Don Gagnon, back in Val d’Or, Que., did wear glasses, however.

Don and Allan grew up together in the little town of Pascalis, next to the townsite of the Perron gold mine. Allan hitchhiked to Pascalis just to borrow Don’s glasses, hoping to bluff his way into the mine with them. Bluffing, however, was not the word; stumbling better described Allan’s act.

Allan reported to the mine on Monday morning, glasses and all, although he was blind as a bat with them on.

“You can’t wear those glasses here,” were the first words Allan remembers hearing upon arriving for his shift. “You need safety glasses. We’ll have to give you an eye test.”

Oh no, not again, thought Allan. He stepped up to the eye-testing machine, and followed the instructions. This exam went better for him, and he was told by this doctor that he didn’t need to wear prescription glasses. “Any safety glasses will do for you,” he said.

— The author resides in Val d’Or, Que.

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