A historical drama set in Grass Valley, California during a mining strike. The story revolves around the introduction of a new explosive, giant powder, which is more efficient but also more dangerous for the miners. The miners, led by Tom Collier, strongly oppose its use due to health concerns and potential job losses. Jack Wales, a miner with a family to support, faces a dilemma between joining the strike and providing for his loved ones. His wife, Jenny, resorts to singing in a tavern to make ends meet, causing tension in their relationship. Meanwhile, Father Dalton, struggling with the orphanage's financial difficulties, seeks support from the legislature in Sacramento. The narrative highlights the harsh realities of mining life, the conflict between workers and mine owners, and the resilience of the community in the face of adversity.

Full Transcript of the Video:

Made possible by a grant from State Farm Insurance Companies.

Well you're in so come on over.

That's far enough.

It's damp and dark down here a fella.

It's kind of lonely.

That's right.

I said down here.

You're about a thousand feet below the sunshine.

And I'm Shin.

But they call me monkey.

Powder monkey.

Brings what they need.

This stuff.

But blast out all this rock.

You set the charge and then you.

.

.

and you.

.

.

you lights the fuse.

And then you run like the devil.

It's safe work.

Usually.

There they go again.

Blasting and mucking.

Never stops.

Here's what they're after.

This stuff.

What oozed up during the dinosaur time.

Dissolved in quartz.

Buy and buy it cooled.

And it's been trapped inside of a sense.

A sweet treasure.

And a kind of ice.

This ain't no sponge cake I'm showing you.

This is the real thing.

What oh.

Yellow money gold.

A miner spends his days from dark to dark digging it.

And his nights dreaming it.

But it don't belong to him.

This here is Mr.
Bourns gold.

Every last sparkle of it.

This earth belongs to him from here to China.

The Empire Mine.

That's where you are.

Think of it as an upside down hotel and you're in the penthouse.

We'll make yourself to home.

Pull up a rock.

What's that?
Oh.

You want how do you.

Don't want the hospitality of old Shin.

Well go on then.

Don't be my guest.

Off with you.

But you better start mucking.

Oh and a bit of a scrape are ya.

Well don't worry.

There's another way out.

There's always another way out.

If you keeps with old Shin that is.

Shin.

Ah that's me.

Be back in a while.

Don't go wondering off now.

Ah that'll do.

Let's get him packed.

Where's that one eyed monkey anyway?
Right what he should be Captain.

Lored by the sweet sound of your pipes.

Why'd you bring us there Shinny?
Trouble.

What's this now?
This.

This is a gleam in the eye of a very clever gentleman.

Fell by the name of Nobel.

Swedish man.

Ah the way this stuff blows up.

Must have had a bit of a Cornish Tom Collier in a may.

Drop the side of a mountain she will.

And leave the other side trembling.

You know what this is Tom Collier.

And just who gave you the idea we'd use it?
Mr.
Jack White mine superintendent.

This morning he shows me two wagons full of this stuff.

And he says here Shinny you'll not be taking black powder below anymore.

We're using giant powder now.

Well you can take it back to Jack White.

But back to Sweden for that matter.

It'll not be work and giant powder in the tunnels of the Empire mine.

I told him you wouldn't Tom.

Not you.

But they're working it up there at the 500 level.

Drifting through quartz like a horse through clover.

Well you see about that.

Whoo!
We've all seen this before.

They tried to force giant powder on us in '69.

And what was the result?
Mine are sick from the fumes.

Mine are sick from mucking out the blasted rock.

And why?
To save the financiers of San Francisco a few dollars.

Right.

To them mining is a row of numbers and a ledger book.

They've never even looked inside a mine.

Nor into the eyes of a woman whittled by giant powder.

Tom.

They're using giant powder in the Comstock.

I got a cousin there.

It says the fumes ain't bothering him.

Yeah.

Maybe you ought to give it a try, Tommy.

There ain't a mine in the Sierra.

It ain't in use but here in Grass Valley.

I got kids to feed.

Listen.

Where they use this stuff.

That's where they work men in teams of two instead of three.

Which one of you is going to be number three they send away, huh?
Feed that to your kids, you knuckleheads.

Tommy's right.

We went on '69 by sticking together.

We can do it again now.

Yeah.

We'll vote on it.

I tell you.

You'll see me tied down in a stamp, merely me bones crushed to dust before these ears ever ring of the sound of giant powder.

Yeah.

Now, thems that want to can take up a box and take it back down into the mine with you.

Carry it all the way down to hell with your giant whales for selling the rest of us out.

Yeah!
Okay!
Why, Mr.
Bourne, the miners are walking off the job again.

Sister!
Yes, Mr.
McDougall.

Sister, correct me if I am wrong, but these are orphans.

That's right, Mr.
McDougall.

Every one of them.

Their fathers have been blinded, blown up in the mines, run over by locomotives, maybe even run away carriages perhaps.

Yes, God rest them.

Their mothers, taken by the cholera or the plague.

Yes, Mr.
McDougall.

Well, then, Sister, would you please tell me, what are they smiling about?
I can't get a proper likeness with them grinning like hyenas.

Well, what would you have me do, sir?
Have them say glum.

Glum?
Yeah, yeah, it would give them an expression more fitting to their station in life.

Father Dalton, kindly explain again how the orphanage can afford the services of a professional photographer in our present financial circumstances.

To preserve forever the image of children rescued from misery, Sister Morgan.

You can't put a price on that.

Yes, I can.

Twenty dollars and fifty cents plus materials.

We must determine what is absolutely necessary for the operation of the orphanage from what isn't.

Particularly at a time when we are facing a debt of six thousand dollars.

Which is precisely why I need the photograph.

I'm taking it to Sacramento.

To the legislature.

To show the powers that be the real cost of quartz mining in Grass Valley.

You can genuflect to the Princess of California.

They'll not levy a dime to help us.

They never have.

We'd be better off with a special collection to raise the money.

That and a miners fair.

The miners will see us through.

I wish that was right, Sister.

It was right enough twenty odd years ago when I came to Grass Valley.

The miners were still out in the river then.

Five thousand of them.

Mining for less and less it's true.

But mining in the sunshine.

And mining for their own accounts.

And when their wives dragged into church on Sunday, which was offener than they do today.

Their fingers trickled with gold.

It took a strong arm to remove the collection plate.

Today that's all over with.

For three dollars they mow underground ten hours on the run.

To fill the vaults in San Francisco's mint.

While they're bare enough to feed themselves or their families.

No Sister.

We cannot balance our ledger on their backs.

The powers and the money have left Grass Valley.

And where they've gone so much die.

So, when Mr.
Hamilton comes calling for his six thousand dollars.

I'm to say that you have gone to Sacramento to ask the legislature for it.

That should ease his mind.

It's not our close the orphanage Sister.

You'll not be closing the orphanage Father Dalton.

And I never want to hear those words pass your lips again.

Now, off with you.

And give my regards to the President of California.

God bless.

Where's your mom?
Out.

I ain't blinded.

Out where?
I don't know.

Say, why aren't you in school?
It's Saturday, da.

So it is.

I told you to keep the door locked son.

Have you been out?
Yeah.

Out looking for his mom.

I suppose you find it amusing scaring the daylights out of me Jack Wales.

Well, I hope you burn in hell for it.

You're the second person today has pictured me in flames.

Where you been darling?
Shopping.

I can see that.

With what?
I ain't been paid this week.

You've been singing.

Down at the Melodian again, haven't you?
And what if I have?
Is there any harm in using me God given talents to earn us a few extra dollars?
I told you before.

I'll not have you working in taverns.

Billy, go on out and play son.

Here.

We wouldn't want to spy on that supper now, would we?
It is his supper.

I'm the breadwinner in this family.

Jack, with the miters on strike, please explain how you're going to win any bread.

We were hard done to scrape through on three dollars a day.

How are we going to manage now?
Just the same.

I'll not have you working as a common saloon gal.

Jack, we have to survive.

What else can I do?
You can do what any honest man's wife does.

Manage with what we have.

Five pounds.

40% crystalline gold.

That's two pounds, 24 ounces.

Try to weigh 30 dollars an ounce.

It's you.

Sneaking around again, huh?
Well, you better be more careful.

He's dropping some dangerous business in these parts.

Well, now, you've seen what a fix old Jack Wales is in.

Honest lad if there ever was one.

Not the sort to cross a picket line, but then not the kind of man to leave his family starve either.

Well, he's off to another mine.

Working over to the eureka where the men agreed to use the giant powder.

He figures he'll keep his paychecks coming by a void in Tom Collier and that hard nosed crowd over at the Empire.

Meanwhile, Jenny's staying away from the tavern.

Satisfied, for now, with a singular audience for that sweet voice a hern.

Wish I could tell you things was going to work out for him.

Trouble stalking that family like a bloodhound.

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