SHEARERS' SECTION

Maoriland Worker, Volume 3, Issue 76, 23 August 1912, Page 7

SHEARERS' SECTION

Shearing in America.

A New Zealand Eye Witness. Yankee Peculiarities.—A Word about Arbitration.

The following most interesting letter is in continuation of tho one which appeared in our columns a few weeks back from a well-known New Zealnnder to Mr. M. Laracy:— SAN FRANCISCO, Col., June 10, 1912. " Hello, there! —Where was my last letter dated fromP Omaha, Nebraska, wasn't it? Well, if you think I'm going to describe all that befell nic betwixt there and here you're mistaken; I've got my living to make, and a cove can't write large books in the narrow spaces between times. " One or two incidents, however, won't break mc nor bore you. Firstly, I failed to develop into a " scab "— nothing doing. But a railway contractor wanted some section hands, and for a consideration of two dollars each his agent, the employment shark, agreed to ship us out to the place of employment. Rawlins, Wyoming, was its name, and a glance at the map showed it to be direct in our line of march to 'Frisco, distance 700 miles. "Joy! I have made many railroad journeys, but never before did I realise the soul-3atisfying comfort that resides in the cushions of a Pullman. Of course we did not connect with that contractor at Rawlins; in fact, we never left the train there, but paid our fare to Walleott, a few miles further along the line. From passengers on the train I had learned that here we were in the heart of the sheep country, and that furthermore (joyful news!) the shearing was in full blast; moreover (oh, bliss!) there were machine sheds all along the line- That settled it. " I straightway began to have visions of an Australian ringer in America showing the natives how to shear —and at the same time gathering in dollars by the handful. Detraining at Wallcott, I set out, brimful of joyous expectation, to get the ' dope,' but, alas, one by one my airy castles tottered and tumbled into dust. First, there was no demand for shearers —all sheds full, and little likelihood of vacancies. " It seems that pens are filled by contractors from afar off long in advance of shearing time, and that, barring accidents, the teams go right through. There appears to be no such thing <as a man being fired for rough shearing—it is impossible for a man to be too rough. It is not even a case of "high, wide and level," you can drop*, the last word and still hold your pen. Second, there were no machine sheds in the district at all. Machines had been tried, and used in some cases up to as late as last year, but had been discarded on account of the high mortality among sheep. " It is a very high, cold region, right in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. I was grievously disappointed in this, for I felt in good shape and eager for a cut. " Further inquiry brought out the fact that there was a hand-shed a few miles out where there was a vacant pen—a small, inconvenient pen, not generally used. I went out and inspected it, shore a couple of sheep as an "experiment, and resolved to stay. But another obstacle stood in the way. I would have to buy a complete camping outfit, tent and all, costing 25 or 30 dollars. This put the kybosh on the matter; shearing was half over, and I would be working for an outfit, only to throw it away at the cut-out. The shed arrangements were peculiar. The wool-press is on a platform raised 7 or 9 feet above the level. The shearing pens are arranged in a double circle round the wool-stand. There is no fhearing floor; the shearers shear their sheep right there in the pens, two men to each pen. They kick the fleece through underneath the bottom rail, from where it is taken by the pickersup, tied with a piece of string, hoisted into a cage that runs on an overhead wire (just like the cash-boxes in a big department store), and swun galong to the pressers. The shearers' tallies are kept- by those strings above mentioned. F-ich man provide himself at starting time with a handful of loose strings, which are carefully counted out to him, according-to the-approximate number he is likrlv to require, ties them to the rail of his pen, and away she goes. There is. no stopping for smoko or lunch : work b"</ms at 6 a.m., 5 straight hours before dinner, and 5 hours after. " The method of grinding and sharpening shears struck mc as being a distinct improvement on that we use down in your neck of the woods. Now, in America one has perforce to get accustomed to seeing things done better than they are done elsewhere. Whereever it is possible to \ise a mechanical appliance instead of handwork, there you will find that mechanical appliance. Rut I did not expect to learn anything about shearing sheep from Americans, coming from the country that leads the world in every department of shepp industry, where one State (N.S-W.) raises more sheep than the whole of the U.S.A. nut together, where ,all world's records have been smashed to smithereens. I felt secure in the belief

that here at least I would not have to admit inferiority. But, alack and alas! ''First, as to the grindstone. The American shearer does not) take shears in hand, and trusting to steadiness of bond and truth of eyesight, essay the difficult task of grinding a true bevel to his blade. Difficult, did I say? Impossible, rather, for what with the necessary -moving up and down of tie blade and the shifting of your weight, to say nothing of the uneven, hollowedont surface of the grindstone, resulting from learners' efforts, it is a physical impossibility for any man alive to grind a true and level edge. "No; he takes two blocks of wood, fashions them so that when clamped together with a thumb-screw, the shear blade being firmly held between them witli its grinding edge evenly exposed and the whole apparatus connected by a steel rod to a post a few feet away, any person can hold it in position and grind an edge just as true and even as if a modern lathe had been used. " Similarly, the American shearer does not (like his deplorably primitive Australian contemporary) foolishly attempt to put a fine edge on his blade by rubbing an oil-stone up and down and across and over it. In the first place, he knows as & mechanical fact that a true edge can only be got by grinding backward from the face; second, that the grinder must be held flat to its work; and, thirdly, as in the case of the grindstone, the pressure must be evenly distributed. Not one of these requirements is met by the antiquated Australian method, so Uncle Sam scratches his beard a moment, puts his head on one side, and behold, the riddle is solved. Embedding the oilstone into a stout piece of wood, he takes a piece of 'ron and clamps' it firmly on to the corner post of his pen. The oil-stone is thus made a fixture. It is situated within easy reaching distance so that the shearer can straighten up, lean over a little, with one hand on the bow and another on the blade of his shears, give two or three sweeps across the stone, and though he be only a learner, he sets a better edge than the most skilful and experienced grinder could get in the old-fashioned way. "Holy smoke! here I am.on the ninth page and I haven't started to say anything yet. You must do the best you can by imagining for yourself what the remainder of our journey was like. Better still, if you really want to know, go to the library and read Jack London's book, "The" Road." The whole journey occupied four weeks. "Since arriving in San Francisco we have worked a few weeks and are now having the most delightful holiday it has ever been my privilege to enjoy. We have a 6 x 8 tent and are camping out in the mountains. Not roughing it, mind you, or engaged in that sordid, out-of-dato occupation, " looking for a job." No, sir, but just camping. The cost of living this way is about one dollar each per week, and we have ■ the best of everything. W 7 e are waiting for the next New Zealand boat, on which we hope to work a passage to Tahiti. Failing that we are open for anything that bobs up, preferably a trip to China and Japan; so there's®no telling where I may be wher: this reaches you. ''I read with deep interest the last bundle of "Workers" and other papers. It would appear that the Unity scheme isi taking hold, and I am sorry to see it. I must tell you that I feel disappointed' in the stand that some of the shearers are taking re arbitration. That is, of course, the central point round which the fight must Tage, and it seems to mc that every combatant must, or ought to make, a definite standi either for it or against it. There is no room for any middle course. Yet some of the boys seem disposed to do just that thing—to straddle it. It is not like them, to sit on a rail. It is not their old way, and does not suit them at all. Besides, they ought to remeariber the fate of Htunpty Dumpty, and take warning. " But I am weary of economics. Blank and I have cut out (temporarily, of course) the whole subject, and we are reading up among the higher branches. - We spent a week on that wonderful Frenchman, Voltaire, reading him and discussing him page by page, and now we are wrapped up in Oscar Wilde, who was undoxibtedly one of the most brilliant and gifted men that ever lived."