Byron Carroll Weege (1940 – 2010)
I didn’t get to know Byron until relatively late in his life. During the mid 1990s I was involved in a small group of collectors who were trying to secure a lease on a tourmaline-bearing pegmatite in San Diego County, Southern California. All being tourmaline fanatics, we had become obsessed with the notion that it might be fun to try and dig some ourselves. Unfortunately, none of us had any real mining experience, but fortunately, we knew someone who did. Byron had long been a fixture in the local community of miners and collectors who worked the various gem pegmatites in the area. At the time, he was part owner of the Katerina Mine (the original source of the gem spodumene now known as “kunzite”) and had even spent a number of years living with the famous miner and lapidary George Ashley at his home in Pala. He also had a reputation for invariably being able to find the right spot to dig. The results of this talent were immediately obvious to anyone who would stop by his modest home in Pala, as you would be greeted by a display of self-collected specimens – mostly tourmalines – the market value of which likely exceeded the value of his humble accommodations by a considerable amount. I recall at one point hearing him complain about not having the money to deal with some plumbing problems at the property and suggested that he could easily raise the money by selling a specimen or two (of course hoping that I might get a chance at one myself). His incredulous reply was “why would I want to do that?” He certainly knew his priorities, and tourmaline trumped a working shower!
Byron was born in Ladysmith, Wisconsin in 1940. His father was a butter-maker and his mother taught school. Evidently the dairy business (a big thing in Wisconsin) was not in his blood, however, and after graduating high school he went on to trade school to learn diesel mechanics, and then enlisted for a three-year stint in the U.S. Marines working as a radio technician. The timing of his enlistment coincided perfectly with the increased hostilities in Vietnam during the mid 1960s and as a result, spent much of his time either there or in Okinawa. While in combat he worked directly with artillery units and ended up with damaged hearing as a result of the sound levels. Providing ear protection for their soldiers was evidently not a priority for the U.S. military at the time, but it did mean that he retired with a partial disability, which gave him a small pension that came in handy later in life.
After leaving the Marines he settled in Southern California and for a number of years ran a second hand and antiquarian bookstore in Del Mar, near San Diego. A lost lease eventually forced him to close the business, at which time he decided to go back to school, studying geology at San Diego State University. Around this time he evidently came to the conclusion that a life of regimented employment was not for him, and decided to “retire” early so he could do what he wanted to. I recall him telling me a story about walking on the beach one time shortly after he had closed the bookstore, looking at his wristwatch and thinking “I don’t need this thing anymore.” He said that he then took it off and threw it in the water!
Upon finishing his studies in the early 1980s, he relocated to Pala in north-central San Diego County to be near the pegmatites he was fond of digging. For the next 15 years or so he supported himself doing part-time saddle and tack repair and evidently became quite an expert at leatherwork. When he wasn’t off on a digging expedition, he also taught himself jewellery making and lapidary, and became quite skilled at these, as well. Despite an almost chronic shortage of money, I could never convince him to mass-produce and market any of his jewellery or stones. He said that would be “real work” and besides, it was more fun to give it away. I did manage to actually pay him for a couple necklaces I had him make for my wife Joan, however.
At the time we first met, Byron was living with a couple other collecting friends in a small rented house almost in the shadow of Queen Mountain in Pala. Stopping by was always interesting, not only because of the wealth of specimens on display, but also for the almost continuous stories one could hear about the mines, minerals and miners from this historic area. It wasn’t long, however, before the elderly woman Byron was renting the house from passed away, forcing another move. With the assistance of a loan from his brother Greg, Byron and several friends purchased an undeveloped parcel of land in the hills just south of Pala, and put in a rather haphazard collection of workshops and dwellings that we perhaps charitably referred to as “Byron’s Ranch.” Life there was truly off the grid. There were no utilities to the property so septic tanks were installed, wells drilled for water, and a bank of solar cells erected for power. This seemed to suit Byron perfectly, however. During the week he could carry on with various projects without interruptions and on the weekends crowds of friends would invariably arrive for afternoons of barbeques, beers, and story-telling.
Things didn’t stay so simple for long, however. After spending about a year chasing this ever-elusive lease on a tourmaline mine we had just about given up on the idea when the opportunity to take over the operation at the Rogerley Mine presented itself. Having gotten ourselves set on the idea of doing some mining for mineral specimens, the timing was perfect. The only trouble was that, rather being nearby, the proposed mine was one third the way around the planet, in Northern England. However, as the saying goes – a bird in hand is worth two in the bush – so in March 1998 off we went to see the property, meet the landowner, and negotiate the terms of the takeover with Lindsay Greenbank, the former mine operator. With leases arranged, equipment purchased, and local accommodations secured, we arrived in Weardale in May of the following year to take over the mine, with Byron in the capacity of “Head Miner.”
In retrospect, it is obvious that we really had no idea just what we were getting ourselves into. All any of us had envisioned was spending a couple summers in England, digging a few specimens, and having some fun. Things changed quite quickly, however, when after spending about six weeks rehabilitating the mine, we broke into a very large cavity that immediately overwhelmed us with a large volume of specimens. It soon became clear that what we had on our hands was not just a collecting adventure, but the potential for a real business. For 12 years now, we have been returning to the mine each summer, and though some mining seasons have been better than others, we have managed to find and sell enough fluorite to pay the bills and go back for more. Byron’s skills and efforts have been an invaluable part of all this. His ability to find the “good stuff” remained as strong ever, and his ability to shift rock in cold, wet conditions to get it out seemed at times super-human. Each year he would complain about how spending three months away from home was disruptive to his routine and kept him from completing his seemingly endless list of projects at the Ranch. Each spring when it came time to discuss returning again to the mine, however, he was ready and willing to give it another go.
At the end of our mining season in 2009 he noticed some hard lumps in his abdomen. Thinking he was getting a hernia, he made a rare visit to the doctor to have it checked out after returning to California. It turned out that he had lymphoma, something his doctors told him was typical of people who were exposed to the Agent Orange defoliant widely used during the Vietnam war. Over winter he underwent chemotherapy treatments for the cancer, and when we came to discussing another season at the mine, he insisted he was well enough to go, claiming that he wouldn’t have known that he was sick if the doctors hadn’t told him so. During the first month at the mine he seemed fine, but during July the disease obviously turned quite aggressive and he passed away from complications of the cancer at the Durham University Hospital on July 28.
Though he sometimes complained about how the Rogerley Mine project disrupted his life, he also really seemed to enjoy his summers in England and all the friends we have made there over the past 12 years. He was always a person who lived life by his own terms and I suspect that spending his final days in a hospital undergoing medical treatments that would likely make him miserable was something he didn’t want to do. In the end, he died “with his boots on,” doing what he wanted to – digging specimens. He was a good friend and we will miss him greatly.
Jesse Fisher,
UK Mining Ventures
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