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8
THE KEITH
BEEDIE STORY
Somewhere along
the way on this
job, the rules had
changed.
PROLOGUE: PUTTING DOWN THE HAMMER
WEST VANCOUVER, 1952
The view from the construction site was spectacular, but Keith
wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t see the cloud-covered mountains or the
whitecaps on Burrard Inlet. He was crouched, head down, frantically
pounding nails into a deck. It was two blows of the hammer for a
1¼-inch nail and three blows for a 3½-inch one. Keith barely noticed
that his hammer was marking double time compared to those of the
others working around him. The pace of his hammer matched the
speed of his thoughts. He had a lot on his mind.
Keith paused. He looked up for a moment, but not to admire the view.
All he could see swimming in front of his eyes was a mental list of neverending
details: he had to make sure the right supplies were coming, that
the sub-trades were organized, that no time would be lost while waiting
for building materials to arrive on the work site. Th ere were dozens of
things he had to get done that day to make sure that work could start on
schedule the next day, never mind the rest of the week.
Th e thought of the ballooning list fi lled him with anxiety. Keith had
only signed a contract to do framing and maybe a bit of fi nishing work.
But things had rapidly spun out of control. He’d barely seen the general
contractor since starting. Lowering his head again, Keith willed the
nails to sink into the deck faster. He had to get to a phone. He had at
least half a dozen pressing calls to make if this project was going to stay
on schedule. His hammer became a blur in front of his eyes. He tried
to remember how he’d gotten to this point.
It had started a couple of years earlier when Keith met Charlie
Metcalfe, when Charlie was contracted to roof Keith’s new
house. Th at turned into he and Charlie working on a few jobs
for other people. Th en he’d met a couple of guys who were
building houses on the North Shore and he and Charlie signed
on to do some framing. Th e money was good, since they could
fi nish about a house a week at $400 per home. Th at meant they
each got $200, which wasn’t bad. Pretty soon, framing evolved
into doing a bit of fi nishing. One thing led to another.
Somewhere along the way on this job, though, the rules had
changed. Keith and Charlie showed up one day to fi nd that they didn’t
have the materials they needed to do the day’s work. Th e contractor
had forgotten to place the order. Instead of giving up the day’s pay,
Keith went ahead and ordered the things they needed and carried on.
He wasn’t a contractor. He wasn’t being paid to run a site, and no one
had told him to take over. He and Charlie were just two guys doing some
work for Taygen Construction. He wasn’t used to dealing with sub-trades
or ordering materials. But before he knew it, he had people at the job site
coming to him for direction, counting on him
to cover project details and do the ordering
for everyone. If he didn’t, they all lost time.
He felt responsible for everyone getting a
full day’s work in. It was becoming clear that
if he didn’t make sure things were running
smoothly, no one else was going to worry
about it. Keith felt that responsibility keenly.
But the problem was fi nding the time to do
both jobs: that of the absentee contractor as
well as the one he’d been hired to do.
Keith looked down at his hand gripping the
hammer, took a breath and stopped. With
startling clarity he saw that he was holding
the wrong tool. He didn’t need a hammer, he
needed a phone. He was using his muscles
when he needed to use his brain.
“I don’t have time for this,” Keith thought to
himself. “No more carpentry work for me.”
He looked at the hammer in his hand and
put it down on the deck. With one simple
gesture Keith welcomed a new future.
Keith Beedie’s photo taken
for the passport he got
when he was planning to
move to California with
his young family, 1952.
With startling clarity he saw
that he was holding the
wrong tool. He didnʼt need a
hammer, he needed a phone.
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