Ipoh World

The drawing above and article below, by The Eng Kok (Class Standard VIIIA) are taken from the St Michael’s Institution 1949 Magazine, “The Michaelian”.

This story relates to ‘The Beatrice Mine’ near Silibin Village, Ipoh. Strangely enough before we came across this article, Mr The, ex student and retired teacher from SMI gave us an updated version of the same story in 2006. No doubt his grandfather had updated him as the years rolled by. Both versions are included as they complement each other and are original as written.

"Grandpa is a very good story-teller, and his stories, mostly fictitious and of his own invention, are sometimes exciting and always interesting. He was a way of entrancing you with his stories. You cannot leave him until you have heard his tale. His graphic style, glittering eyes, and quiet friendly manner are most entertaining. Every night Grandpa sits in his comfortable arm-chair, smokes his favourite pipe, and talks to us of many things.

One night, Grandpa was in pensive mood. No, he was not going to tell us cowboy stories. He said he would tell us something about the good old days, about “The Beatrice Mine”.

“Twenty-five years ago,” began Grandpa, “I was only a salary-earner with a very modest income. A friend came along and asked me to take shares in a mining venture which was to be started with a capital of only four thousand dollars. I had been approached more than once before to join such ventures and had lost much hard earned money in doing so. This time I would fain have declined the offer but it came from a friend to whom I could not say 'No.'”

“How much did you invest in the venture, Grandpa?” I interrupted. “Only $300; but it was a good deal of money in those days,” replied Grandpa, and continued –

“The syndicate had leased an area of about 20 acres near Silibin Village from one Dr W A Rogers, a retired Ceylonese Government doctor. It carried out operations for a year, and lost heavily. I thought it was all over. But, you know, miners, like gamblers, are confirmed optimists, and we did not give up.

An elderly Chinese woman, a widow, came along and obtained from our syndicate a 6 month lease to work a portion of our land.”

“She was a wealthy lady, wasn't she?– to take up mining?” my brother Eng Lim butted in.

“Not at all,” answered Grandpa. “She was of the labouring class, and had hoarded up a few hundred dollars. She felt the lure of mining as most people did in those days. Don't think she had engines, pumps, monitors excavators to work her mine with. She only worked by the landchute method, employing some half a dozen labourers and she herself also worked with her men.

“In a few months she lost her last mite. But she would not give up. She pawned the jewelry of her only daughter and dumped the proceeds – they couldn't have been much more than a hundred dollars – into the venture. This time fortune smiled upon her. One fine day, her changkol dug up a lump of earth full of fine black shining sand. It was tin, her workmen assured her. Her dream had come true. She had struck a “tin pocket” – a sak-mi-chong, as the Chinese say.”

Grandpa's eyes twinkled. Sak-mi-chong has a magic sound for Chinese ears. The best greeting you can extend to a Chinese tin-miner is that he may strike a sak-mi-chong!

“The lucky strike,” continued Grandpa, “created a first-class sensation in Ipoh. It was the talk of the town – of shop, market, office and home. News spread far and wide. Crowds gathered round the miniature mine. The police had to be called in to keep out over-curious visitors and to stop them from interfering with the mining operations.

“The lucky lady had only a month more to go before her lease expired. All through the day and night, without a minute's respite, the black earth was dug up – now by dozens of nimble hands, poured into the pudding pool, and washed in the solitary landchute – her lease allowed her to work only one landchute – and tin-ore dealers waited at the mine to buy her ore. How much she made in that month, no one exactly knew but it was estimated that she made a fortune of over 100,000 dollars!”

Grandpa had spoken almost without a stop. He could recall with perfect clearness every detail of what had happened. I wondered if the lucky woman had dug up every bit of tin and asked him so.

“No,” continued Grandpa. “Our syndicate came to life again. We put up a palong in double quick time. As soon as the clock tower struck the hour of midnight on that memorable day, our men took over the mine from the lucky lady, and in no time our mine started work, pumping up the gravel, back with tin. So rich was the tin pocket that it was found necessary to stop the engine after every hour's working because the palong would be full of ore. Every alternate day the ore was auctioned on the mine. In a few months the pocket was worked out but it was replaced by a pipe of very rich ore in limestone.

“News of the wonderful mine spread like wild fire throughout the country and was splashed on the pages of the leading newspapers of the world. People came from far and near to visit this fabulous mine. At one period when the mine was producing very great quantities of ore and huge profits were made, we served visitors with champagne!

“Geologists and experts declared that it would take at least ten years to work out the lode, but their estimate proved incorrect, for after four years it was exhausted, after excavations had reached a depth of 300 feet. The syndicate spent half a million dollars trying to retrace the lost vein but all attempts failed.

“Not only the shareholders made huge fortunes, but the landlord, Dr Rogers, became fabulously rich by collecting tribute on the sale of the tin of the mine. He left Malaya and for a time settled in England. His daughter, after whom the mine was named, was presented to the King and Queen. Eventually the old doctor sold his interest in the mine for half a million. Every one of the shareholders became a rich man. For every $100 invested, each shareholder got in return $175,000. How mining pays!”

Grandpa's eyes brightened at the recollection of the wealth the mine brought him. In reminiscent mood, he said, “The mine enabled me to do many things, to help some relatives and perform other acts of charity. It also enabled me and Grandma to go round the world. That was in 1926. it was a wonderful experience. How the mention of the Beatrice Mine brings back sweet memories! Its glory is faded but not forgotten.” Grandpa mused."

Our database editor adds - Technically the mine was described as "A Cassiterite pipe in Dolomite."

To read the story of the Beatrice Mine as told in 2006, click here.

To read more about St Michael’s Institution, click here.