By Gord Barney
George McKinley grew up and went to school in Ladysmith and lived out in the Diamond (A True Diamond Tulip) as a young man.
He is the youngest of four brothers., Jack, Jim, Joe and at last George. He was born in the North end of town and died at the south end of town 67 years later.
While the other brothers took different career routes., for George it was the woods and only the woods.. He worked the camps for most of his life.
He started out setting chokers for Comox Logging here behind Ladysmith and then went to work as a riggin slinger. Next he went working as a chaser in the landing in Toba Inlet for Rainier Logging where he learned to operate the yarding machine (Madill Spar Tree). Next, he got a chance to operate the log loader after a few years and finally he got a class one licence and started driving a logging truck, which he drove until he retired.
He still kept up his class one licence and worked as a spare driver up until about three months ago. He spent his leisure time driving his quad trail bike and hiking with his grandchildren, who he took camping.
Quad riding and fishing on their summer breaks, he owned a 1/2 ton truck with hitch to which he hooked up a 24 foot travel trailer. When he camped out by himself he always had his (Grand dog) Maggie with him. He hiked the trails up near Gold River, camping out by himself in his trailer.
He and his wife Jane toured the north end of the island whenever he had any spare time from work. George and his quad riding friends used power saws strapped on their quads to cut out new trails and old logging roads that had grown in behind town for other groups who rode quads to use.
George lived a full life and is well known in Ladysmith and on Vancouver island. He will be surely missed.
The Wrangler
Whenever The Wrangler went to town
He was a West Coast Logger from toe to crown.
When Common People looked at him,
They saw Broad shoulders, his smile a grin.
He always hurried when he walked,
He cursed and swore tho’ when he talked.
A logger schooled in every grace,
“In A Mental Ward” he said, he should be placed.
He worked the woods, before it was light,
He trucked the logs until late at night.
He’d return to camp for meat and bread
And then one day they found him Dead.
They found him there on a city street,
Where Children play and People meet.
Rich was he just like a King,
“Money” he said. Didn’t buy me everything.
Wrangler’s not gone, he’s just up in Camp
Still loggin now where it ain’t damp
I can hear him swearin, loggin in the heat
Haulin Twelve foot Firs on easy Street…
Jane and Sam and Grandkids too,
He’s left behind for his Logging crew.
We’ll see him soon, I’m sure of that.
Good Bye to Wrangler…I lift my Hat.