Biography

It was ANZAC Day, 1932. Old Sam and his mate Doyle had found some promising stone in abandoned workings. Sam was anxious not to lose a moment, so he worked on while Doyle climbed above to prepare the evening meal. Having come back to check on Ure once and heard the sound of the pick, Doyle went back to finish preparing the meal. When it was ready, he went to call Ure - but no answer came. He ran to a nearby camp and the digger there waited by the shaft lest Ure came up while Doyle raced into Sandstone and hurried back with Constable Farrier, Jimmy Boase and Norman Beaver. These two were lowered down the shaft. The constable hurried away seeking highly experienced men familiar with dangerous ground. Boase crawled along, following a tortuous winding among the mullock heaps where recent workings showed. At last he reached Ure. Fallen rock and mullock completely barred his way. He held his candle at the boneless wreckage and called. A muffled answer came whispering back, and Boase's heart choked as he realised that old Sam lay under those rocks. In muffled sentences, Ure explained that while working, his pick had struck a Tom (timber support). With its collapse, the hanging wall had come in and pinned him to the footwall. He was not in pain, he explained in lisping whispers; he had no feeling at all from his arms and chest and feet. Boase realised this was a job for the quickest and most highly experienced of men. When he returned to the shaft, Constable Farrier had them already there, Tetlow and Pearce. But the old mine was sinking, inch by inch, sinking with the minutes. The roof was bulging. In places, the ground was actually moving. As they squeezed through a narrow drive, the ground gently closed around Tetlow and he was stuck. Pearce was eventually freed and they crept on closer to Ure They battled on until they were within three feet of Ure. But the roof pressed down above and before them, grinding down the timbers, crushing tighter the fallen rock, filling each hard-won inch of space as surely as they made it. At last, Tetlow forced his arm right in through the debris and, holding a cupped candle in his fist, called to Ure if he could see. Very faintly, Ure replied in a whisper that his head was jammed, and being crushed, and he could not see the light or move at all. In the whispering silence of the stope, Tetlow felt the squeeze of his arm. He dragged it back. Wild-eyed, they snatched their tools and slaved doggedly on. A long, trembling shudder marked a heavy fall of rock further on ahead. Sam Ure never spoke again. After another three quarters of an hour, with no sound from Ure, the men decided to retreat. They finally reached the shaft. As those above helped them up, they heard, up there on the surface, the rumbling crash of rock that sealed forever the tomb of old Sam Ure. Jack Tetlow, Billy Pearse and Jimmy Boase received a Royal Humane Society medal for their act of courage. Early in 1995, part of a human skull, bones and two boot soles were recovered from the area where Ure was lost. Police investigations confirmed the remains were those of the entombed man. The old Oroya Black Range Mine is now an open-cut mine worked by Herald Resources. More than 60 years later, Ure's remains were officially laid to rest in the Sandstone Cemetery. A funeral ceremony was held as part of the 100th Anniversary Celebrations, which included the dedication of the local cemetery. His death was not registered until 2000. The remains of Mr Ure lie in the non-conformist portion of the cemetery.