Diamond Mine Owner Real Gem

Few guys ever own a real diamond mine. But then there are few guys like Sam May, who, at 91 years of age, remembers owning the Diamond Dick mine off West Riverview Drive in Post Falls.

His hearing and eyesight slowly fading, May recalls the days in the early 1960s when “it was nothin’ to drive up there and go off into the woods and look at the mine.”

“Guess I was last up there ‘bout three, maybe four years ago now. I remember putting up a couple of ‘No Trespassing’ signs. Sure they been tore down by now. Kids learned of the mine and got a kick out of messing with it.”

So the story goes: May acquired the mine and its surrounding 120 acres in 1961. He received a letter from the Bureau of Land Management inviting his bid for the property. He offered $1,250.

“I got my patent in March, 1963,” he said, noting “the Diamond Dick had been one of 13 mines owned by William J. Owens.

“You know there’s a story, this Owens fella. Never met him, but what I’ve heard … “

Its history dates back to the Wild West year of 1919, when John Randall applied for a homestead there.

Anyway, May continued, “I had my patent and got to looking around the mine site. I started digging. Hauled out a lot of rock and came across some small garnets, but no real diamonds - least I don’t think so. Fact, these garnets I mentioned - there were nothing like you’d find in Emerald Creek, you know down by Santa, St. Maries … “

May talked of returning a number of times with his metal detector, combing the area for “whatever I could find.” And, coming up with an assortment of nails.

The only thing remaining now of the Diamond Dick is a deteriorating pile of timbers, apparently used to shore up the long-ago caved in mine entrance. Nearby is evidence of where cribbing once held back the banks of a shallow creek, long since dried up. Until a couple of years ago, still very much visible was the foundation of a cabin outside the mine. A rusting bed spring attested to life inside the structure in years past.

For a time, only May knew where the mine was.

“You know,” May said, “I remember going to the mine with the surveyors. They couldn’t find any landmarks. I was the one who found the bearing tree with the bearings inscribed.

“Ha, they had all these transits. All I had was a compass. You take a reading off the sun. Shoot, once you set the compass you’re on line. Nothing to it. You don’t need all those fancy instruments.”

It’s quite a visitor who leaves without hearing May recall his life in the military. He remembers the day he joined - the 25th of April, 1923 - like his birthday.

“We got paid $21 a month base pay and had to turn around and give $1.75 of that for laundry.”

He was accepted into artillery school, made staff sergeant, then earned the rank of second lieutenant, captain and finally, colonel.

May earned his pilot’s wings in 1937 and flew a year later with Curtis Lemay. War stories …

These days and since his military days, May spends his time in front of his ham radio station, checking daily with “airwave friends” across the continent. Especially a guy named Charlie.

“Never knew his last name - just Charlie. Guy is 95, just fell and broke his hip. We talk usually every day.”

A longtime member of the American Radio Relay League, May has for years taught ham radio.

He speaks fondly of his being the “first ever recipient of World Wide Instructor of the Year.”

Col. Sam May, retired, still maintains his modest home in Post Falls and tries to attend the needs of his “new” wife of a couple of years, Bonnie.

“If I were younger and had better legs,” he says, “I’d go back and look (at the mine) some more.”

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