Quirks of the Trade
Four short character sketches of mannerisms and tells: Erick W. Nelson's moustache as an early-warning system, Norman Birdsey's cap and headlamp that would never point straight no matter how many times John nudged his own to match, new hire Jim Morrow's eyeball-endangering war against sneezing, and Byron "Barney" Fairchild's underground scowl that vanished the moment he saw daylight.
I have met few personalities in my lifetime who haven't had a mannerism or peculiarity that made them stand out from everyone else and branded them for life, not necessarily in a negative fashion but a trait that was noticeable enough that it remains in one's memory.
Erick W. Nelson, General Manager of Emperius Mining Company and one of the most respected men in Mineral County, wore a bushy moustache until he retired and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. Early in our association, I learned that if Erick stuck out his lower lip and blew upward through his moustache, it was no time to gripe or ask for a raise. If he was blowing hard enough to flare the moustache, I knew I had better get a shovel smoking or start drilling. It took a lot to rile that Swede and you darned sure wanted to know the signs.
Norman Birdsey could never wear a cap or hat straight on his head. I'm sure he never noticed but I checked several times when he was bareheaded to see if his skull was malformed. It annoyed hell out of me at first when I would see a figure walking underground with his light shining to one side, always the right side, but I became accustomed to it though it was a puzzle how it could remain so fixed. I could turn my hat to point in the same direction as his and within two steps it would pivot to its original position. We drove a raise 200' in very loose ground where we both kept a tight pucker string and I thought surely he would want his light pointing right at the source of danger, however, timbering, drilling or just going up and down the ladders, Norman's light was always pointed toward right field.
In 1968, I hired a young fellow from New Mexico to help in driving the Midwest tunnel. Jim Morrow was one of the most dependable and hardest working men it has been my pleasure to know and work with, but every time he sneezed I wanted to throttle him, and he sneezed often. When Jim felt a sneeze coming on, he would clamp his nostrils shut with two fingers and hold his mouth closed. When the sneeze came, it would nearly blow his eyeballs from their sockets. I would beg him to let it go; if it blew snot all over the dashboard, the truck, or on someone it would be better than popping his eyeballs out or rupturing an ear drum. He said he had held back sneezes since he was a kid and it was just a reflex action to stifle them. He seemed to suffer no ill effects.
Byron "Barney" Fairchild put a scowl on his face when he started in the tunnel and it didn't leave his face until he was in sunshine. He was a good worker and a good miner, but he plain and simply didn't like to be underground. Reminded me of an old grizzly bear in the "hole" but was one of the most amiable men I have known outside.