Rear view volume II
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Our social life in Tulsa was fairly active, with Carter employees and a few neighbors, and usually involved drinks and dinner at the host’s house. Sale of liquor in Oklahoma was illegal at that time, and did not become legal until after we’d left Tulsa in 1952. So for the customary alcoholic refreshments everyone was dependent on bootleggers, who were fairly abundant then and usually tolerated by the police who didn’t bother the ones who remembered them with frequent cash birthday gifts. Service was usually good. You phoned your favorite liquor dispenser the day before it was needed and he’d usually deliver the next day. At one time we had a milkman who delivered his dairy products at our back door early in the morning every other day. One day when he arrived as usual he knocked and rather apologetically told us he was sorry that he’d no longer be delivering milk. “Oh,” I said, “we’ll miss you. Have you gotten better employment?” “Yes,” he replied, “I’m going into the bootlegging business, and hope I can still make deliveries for you.” This he did for most of our remaining residence in Tulsa. However, bootleg prices were always substantially higher than legal liquor in most other states, so on our trips to Wisconsin nearly every summer I always scheduled our (or my) return through Kansas City, where I had located a discount liquor store conveniently located on my trip route through the city. I purchased as much as would fit into the trunk in addition to the usual load of luggage, and continued my trip south very circumspectly and observant of speed limits, so as to limit the chances of any unfortunate encounters with state police.
partying resumed. * * * *
In January 1952 Moses called me into his office.“We’re going to move you again, Jerry. How do you like Oklahoma City?” I groaned slightly. “Not very much, what I’ve seen of it. I much prefer Tulsa.” Moses smiled “So do I. I think most people do. But we need a new Division Geologist there, and you’re it.”
and nearly all exploratory drilling at that time were in Oklahoma, Kansas and Arkansas. The Central Division supervised District offices in Liberal and Wichita, Kansas; Elk City and Ardmore in Oklahoma; and Ft. Smith in Arkansas. District operations for central, northern and eastern Oklahoma were handled in the Oklahoma City office.When Moses had said “Oklahoma City” to me I had assumed it would be some variety of staff support job like I currently had in Tulsa. So after news of this grade-A promotion had sunk in, and Moses had briefed me in a general way about Central’s activities and personnel status, I left his office on cloud nine with great enthusiasm for the impending move. I was to replace a man of considerable reputation and stature in the geological fraternity named Rolf Engleman. The problem with Rolf, I gathered, was that he tended to concentrate on academic themes and lacked the temperament and talent for directing traffic in a supervisory capacity. The only fly in the ointment relative to my transfer was that I had to report for work in O.C. as immediately as possible, since Rolf had already been reassigned to some urgently needed geologic studies for which he was highly qualified. So Carol again, as the saying goes, “got the short end of the stick” as had happened when we moved from Rawlins to Tulsa. She had the burden of packing and shipping our household contents, and having the house put up for sale. Her subsequent experience the next few weeks, enroute to her sister Yvonne's wedding, is best described in her fine autobiography “The Time Of My Life” (written in 1980), and I am reprinting it here : “He’d been gone only a few days when Yvonne called to tell me she was getting married the following week. I told her I’d come to the ceremony, which was just for the family, and I started out the first part of February with a 4 ½ -year-old and a 6-year-old. All went well until I ran into a truly terrible blizzard in Iowa! I couldn’t see to drive; I was four hundred miles from Jerry and four hundred miles from my Dad, and scared to death. I turned into the first place I could see which happened to be a trucker’s stop,--an O.K. place to spend the night in the car except that there was no restaurant nearby. Kappy acted sick the next morning, so I called a doctor in the next town who came right away and gave her a shot of penicillin, She had a 102 temperature and an earache, so the doctor said to keep her warm and get her to another doctor the next day for another shot. We were all hungry and I didn’t dare drive the car in the blizzard for fear I’d have an accident, so I left Jerry Mike in charge of Kappy and walked until I found a place to get food to bring back. “ The storm had cleared by morning and we got along fine until our Studebaker (without chains) refused to climb a hill on the outskirts of Des Moines. I instructed the children to stay in the car while I went for help. I was gone for a long time because lots of people were at the filling station where I stopped also wanting help. I hung around there until they told me definitely that they’d come out to put chains on my car. By the time I was walking back to the car the children were wading through the deep snow looking for their Mother! But the rest of the trip was uneventful; Kappy got her shot, and we were on time for Yvonne's wedding to Bill Smatlak". * * * *
In Oklahoma City we bought a house on Dublin Road, which at that time was the northernmost street in the city with housing development. It was a bit bigger than our Tulsa home, with two bathrooms and a two-car garage which we needed since I had been assigned a company car. It lacked a clubroom, so a few years later we had a roomy one with an attractive big stone fireplace added to the house, which became our primary location for relaxing and entertaining. But we had difficulty selling our Tulsa house for about what we’d paid for it. It took about nine months during which time our bank account ebbed substantially from having to make payments on both houses. We had nice neighbors on both sides and opposite us, which helped us adjust to our new environment. Our favorite neighbors, who became our lifelong friends, were the Bolands, who lived across the street: Dr. John, a psychologist who specialized in speech therapy, and Lillian, a Ph.D who taught college courses most of the time. They had a daughter Ann and a son Michael, both in approximately the same age levels as our youngsters. We rapidly began to enjoy life in Oke City, much more than I’d hoped for. I worked under the Exploration Manager Dick Hicklin, who was a geologist and a very capable administrator. He and his wife “Sis” were also very sociable, as were numerous others in the office who became very good friends, such as Bob and Marilyn Riggs and Paul and LaVeta Long. Although the areas in and around the city were mostly rather dull and monotonously flat dry expanses of treeless terrain (except for those planted by residents and a few farmers), there were numerous attractive state parks and a few lakes within convenient distances from O.C. Two fine lakes were very close: Lake Hefner within the northwest edge of town, and Lake Overholser about 6 miles west. Carol was able to spend more time with friends, now that the kids attended school and required less care and attention at home. She became involved in a number of civic projects, which made her family very proud. She became a Girl Scout Leader of groups which included Kappy, and conducted numerous weekend stays at a Girl Scout camp site. She became active in the Parent Teachers Association, ultimately becoming president. And her interest in politics got her busy in the League of Women Voters where she eventually was made a Board member (which she said was the most work of any of her civic enterprises). J.M. and Kappy quickly became acclimated to their new environment, and ultimately adjusted to school life. Our house location was well away from the hustle and bustle existing in neighborhoods deeper in the city, and bicycling, games and sports could be enjoyed in our street without much fear of traffic hazards. This was conducive to the commingling of kids in the block, and our two lost no time in finding friends. Our fenced-in back yard was popular, especially when I had the croquet game set up or occasionally gave impromptu magic shows on the patio to our kids and a group of their friends. Another backyard attraction during our early days, when Jerry Mike was about 7 and Kappy about 5, was an airplane swing I built and hung from a high tree branch. Its popularity was sufficient to enable our kids to charge their friends one cent a ride, which would eventually accumulate enough for an occasional seven cents popsicle purchase at the popsicle truck. Still another backyard attraction, a few years later, was when Jerry M. erected a large tepee which became an entertainment center for many friends. Baseball became increasingly popular with Jerry M. and Kappy as they grew a bit older. J.M. had several friends who shared his baseball hobby, with whom he often had impromptu games in nearby vacant lots. And he and Kappy enjoyed playing catch in the front yard (which provided more space than the back yard for long throws). Once Kappy missed a vigorous pitch that came to her a bit high and broke a house window. They were of course quite distressed, and eagerly agreed to my suggestion that they might like to help pay for it by doing odd jobs around the house that I would pay them for. So they began doing so, and were kept busy shining shoes, waxing furniture, doing dishes, emptying garbage, etc. until after several weeks I let them off the hook. Both enjoyed our frequent picnics and boat rides on the lakes, and when he was about thirteen Jerry M. decided he wanted to build a small boat. Somewhere he’d seen pictures of a small one-passenger craft, and solicited my help in creating something similar. I was never much of a carpenter but agreed to work with him. After two or three weekend efforts we produced one that looked floatable, which he christened “Sea Sled”. It did look more like a sled than a boat; it had a flat bottom (I wasn’t talented enough to construct a conventional V-shaped keel), and a gently up-curved bow, In nautical terminology it would probably be considered in the “pram” category. The hull, as I recall, was about 3 ½’ x 7’, give or take a half foot each way, and the sides were about a foot high. The stern was solid enough to mount a small outboard motor. Paint job was yellow and green. The maiden voyage in Lake Hefner by a life-jacketed J.M. was an exciting event, and one that on later occasions was repeated many times by the kids and me, in O.C. and later in Tulsa. * * * *
supervisor of geological operations and personnel in the Districts obviously required a substantial knowledge of the geology throughout the Central Division areas, as well as oil production activities, past and present, by Carter and other oil companies. This required an inordinate amount of time, both at the office and at home, during my first several months, poring through a mass of maps and geologic reports. But I finally educated myself enough to discuss exploration data and plans with District personnel,--a vital need since my authority was required for any modifications of wildcat well drilling locations or procedures, leasing of prospective areas, core drilling activities, etc. During the drilling of wildcat wells I often got calls in the middle of the night from the “well sitter” geologist reporting problems and requesting approval for non-budgeted changes or remedies.
“ Hello, Mr. Kyle. This is Johnson, on the Ft.Cobb wildcat,--the Carter # 1 Bigfoot.” “Ah,--oh yeah, west of Anadarko on the Kiowa Indian property, right?” (yawn). “Yeah. We’re at our contract depth of 10,000 feet in the Springer, but it’s been all shale. We haven’t hit any sand bodies like they’ve gotten production in over in Grady County. Do we quit?” “Well, let’s see--.there was a Conoco dry hole over by Hobart that did get some good sand layers in the Springer with a few oil shows, but mostly water. Let’s gamble another 500 feet and if you don’t hit any good oil sand give up and abandon the well.” “O.K., sir, we’ll give it a try and maybe get lucky.”
attended by Hicklin, myself, and the Division’s Geophysicist and Landman. Preparing budgets was usually a lot of work, but made enjoyable by the dinners and evening events planned and sponsored by the Districts’ personnel. The “beef and bourbon” circuits, as our visits were termed, made me gain a few pounds over the course of a few years. I once reached a high of 170 lbs., up from my (then) normal of about 155, which I guess was an improvement in appearance of the skinny “Lanky Yankee” as I was occasionally called by my Okie friends. * * * *
hosted us in fine fashion. Earl was a good gardener, and he enjoyed brewing wine from a variety of berries and cherries he would harvest in the local countryside. When we visited the Snells the first evening’s order of business was for Carol and I to get established in the kitchen and sample his latest products. This usually involved at least two, and his idea of a good sample was a water glass full of his high octane product. His wine was always delightfully tasty, but after two or more “samples” we often had trouble finding our way out of the kitchen! Earl and Lu came to see us two or three times during our seven-year era in O.C. These trips were during the winter season, and one incentive for them of course was to have a brief relief from Wisconsin’s cold weather. Since Earl had had a slight stroke and no longer felt able to drive very far, they always came by train. For some reason the train’s north-south route missed Oklahoma City but made a night time stop in El Reno, a small city a few miles west of O.C., before it proceeded south into Texas. We were delighted to get them in El Reno, and during their customary stay of two weeks or so we took them on several trips to points of interest in Oklahoma, accompanied by the Kyle kids. The longest and most interesting trip was the first one, in 1953, when we headed southwest through Texas and into New Mexico, during which Earl was thrilled to see his first wild turkeys. We toured Carlsbad Caverns and the White Sands National Monument, then headed south to El Paso and into Juarez, Mexico, for a brief stop. A highlight there was when we stopped in the Manhattan Club bar and another American visitor, Parker Curton of Las Cruces, insisted on being our host for several rounds of drinks as we listened to his numerous entertaining stories of his experiences in Mexico. A remarkable incident occurred during the initial stage of that trip through Texas. It was the Snells’ first visit to Texas, and they were interested in Texas lore, history, and legends which I related as we cruised through the state. I mentioned that opportunities for social recreation were very limited for cattlemen in those early days, most of whom lived on ranches in remote areas many miles from each other, and that they always looked forward to an occasional weekend when they could enjoy activities in the nearest small town. “What did they do in town?” asked Earl. I said, “Well, saloons were about the only source of recreation, and the only enter-tainment was drinking, associating with the women for hire, or gambling.” Earl smiled. “I guess all I’d care for would be the gambling , for small stakes.” “Sometimes stakes got pretty big among well-off ranchers,” I said. “I recently read an interesting account somewhere about a game in the early 1900’s where two ranch owners were playing late at night and had eliminated all the others by their increasingly big bets. Neither would call the other and stop the betting. Finally all their cash was on the table and one better said to the other, ‘O.K., I’ll bet my ranch against yours.’ The other thought a minute and then said, ‘All right, it’s a deal. Let’s see your cards.’ Turned out that one had a full house, three kings and two tens. The other grinned and turned over his four aces!” “Pretty stiff competition, eh?” said Earl. “Yes. The loser groaned, had another drink, and then told the other he’d honor his bet. In a few days he delivered the ranch title, and the winner eventually moved to his new ranch (which was better than his). He later sold his own ranch and used the money to improve his new holdings. And he named it,--‘The Four Aces’!” Earl chuckled a bit. “That’s a pretty good story, but too implausible, even for Texas.” “Well,” I replied, “the article I read said it was true.” Earl shook his head.
Earl laughed. “Holy Moses! You sure timed that story well. How did you know we were that close when you told it?” I don’t think Earl ever believed, in spite of my efforts to convince him, that I’d never been in this part of Texas before, and didn’t have any idea we’d actually see that poker game’s prize. And I sure couldn’t blame him for his disbelief.
been through customs, so go on and wait for us outside. We shouldn’t be long.” So she did, and we followed shortly, having had nothing to declare. Earl shook his head when he heard what we’d done and said he thought my maneuver was a bit risky. I agreed, but said I did it mostly for fun, although it was also nice to save the liquor importation tariff, which as I recall would have been about $2 per bottle. But we all got good laughs about it, and it made a good story to tell later at parties. * * * * We took frequent vacation time trips with the kids during our O.C. era, including a few in western states. One of the classics was a long one in August 1955, through New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota and Minnesota, ending in a final visit with our folks and relatives in Wisconsin (which was admirably recorded in a comprehensive document with text and many pictures by Carol. It was a journey of many adventures and new experiences for the kiddos, when Jerry Mike was 9 ½ and Kappy was 8 years old. We stayed in a motel in Raton, New Mexico, the first night, and one of the journey’s many highlights was the next day when the youngsters got their first ride on a mountain chair lift at Raton Pass just north of town. It was a thrilling experience, for both kids and adults, and the scenery from on top was spectacular! We then headed west from Raton into the eastern foothills of the Rockies, and began using our new tent for the first time near Taos, N.M. It, with camp supplies and warm sleeping bags (much needed in those mountain area cold nights!), were to be our overnight residence facilities for most of the remaining journey. After a day a day of enjoying that vicinity we headed the next day north into Colorado on a picturesque mountain highway through Alamosa and Salida toward the historic mining town of Leadville. A short distance before getting there we stopped at “Gold Camp”, a roadside tourist attraction near a stream containing some sand bars that included slight amounts of gold flakes. For a small fee the visitors were allowed to, and taught how to, pan for gold. J. M. had a go at it, and actually recovered a small quantity of gold which he stored in a little glass bottle,--and added a little bit to it later when he was prospecting and panned some on his own initiative. Leadville was a fascinating locality and in the late 1800’s the locale of many rich silver mines. We attended their annual Burro Race, the Healy Home (the historic and well maintained home of a super-rich mining investor), and of course the Matchless Mine where Baby Doe Tabor, the famous socialite and once-wealthy wife of the millionaire Horace Tabor, spent her last twenty years or so in poverty. Download 0.54 Mb. Share with your friends:
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