In The Oil Field
By James Donahue
After the auto accident that interrupted my college studies I took a job with the Long & Wetzel Service in Mount Pleasant that maintained oil wells throughout Southern Michigan. After being broken in I was assigned to work with L. V. Case, cleaning paraffin from flowing oil wells in the Jonesville Area of the state. It was a new strike area in those days and a very active place.
L. V. “Corky” Case was a burly little man with muscular arms and upper torso from years of pulling on wire and lifting heavy iron sinkers. He lived in a mobile home with his wife and small boy. He was a good worker most of the time, although he had two major flaws. He was a drunk and sometimes let the alcohol affect his job. Thus when working with him I found myself often walking a tightrope between coaxing him to get the job done and going along with him to the nearest bar to just go on a binge. Also he had a strange personality quirk. He would remain calm and easygoing for days and sometimes weeks. But then it seemed as if a fire in him was building steam and it had to eventually explode. When it blew, Corky went wild. I saw him get so violent I considered him dangerous. It was not fun being around him when that happened. Yet overall, during that summer, we became friends and daily drinking buddies. It was one of the most memorable jobs I ever worked.
Our daily routine, after I was assigned to work with him, was to gather at a restaurant in a little town called Litchfield. They made great breakfasts there and the coffee was strong and hot. Our usual morning fare was steak and eggs, hash browns and toast. Then we all drove down the hill and gathered at “the dog-house,” a metal shed located in the midst of pumping oil wells. There we waited for the job boss to arrive and give us our work assignments for the day.
Corky and I were usually given one or two specific wells to work on, and a third option in the event we finished those jobs early. Case seemed to know where the wells were located and never had to ask directions. Before leaving the area all of the Long & Wetzel trucks pulled up at a beer store on the road out of the area. There we stocked up on our daily supply of beer, usually a six-pack to a man. Each truck also carried a large metal container full of drinking water. We worked hard and sweated a lot, especially on warm summer days. Most of the liquid consumed on the job, however, was beer.
When I first arrived, it was still early spring and some of the days were cold. Even though we worked hard, the cold had a way of getting in our bones. We used steel barrels partly filled with burning crude oil for heat. When we took breaks, we gathered at the burn barrels to get warm.
Case looked at each oil well almost as if it were a living thing with its own unique personality. Some were gassy and we had to be careful not to breathe the fumes. Others were stuffed with hard paraffin that took hours to break through. Others were located in such remote areas we had to work in wet, swampy areas while mosquitoes and black flies circled us. In the hot summer months we worked with our shirts off so the insects feasted on our blood. Sometimes we were deep in a wooded area. I remember taking breaks and searching for mushrooms. I got so I shared Corky’s enthusiasm for the work we were doing and looked at each well as a distinct challenge.
Once we were set up at a well we took turns spudding. That was a long, tedious job that involved standing by the well and pulling the wire, lifting the heavy sinker up a few feet, then dropping it back into the paraffin. If we were lucky, we saw it drop a few inches or even a foot or two each time the sinker dropped. If not, we just kept lifting and dropping the iron sinker until something started to open up. Sometimes we could clean a well and move on within a few hours. At other times we would stay at a well for a full day and work until dusk before getting the job done. Once set up at a well we never liked to tear down if the job was not finished, so our daily work hours varied.
Once we were finished for the day we took the truck back to the Litchfield dog house, got in our cars, and headed for a favorite tavern, usually in Jonesville. It was a busy place in those days, with not only the workers from Long & Wetzel gathering there, but all of the oil well drilling crews and pipeline crews packing the place. Among them were the whores and prostitutes. Many of the women were old and most were fat. I had the feeling that they were women from the town who were taking advantage of the oil boom and the flow of cash going on in their town. Some of the men would go off with these women. The joke was that after a few drinks, even the old and fat ones started looking good. I couldn’t agree.
I remember one night an older man brought his wife into that bar and sat at a long table where Corky and I were sitting. It wasn’t long before a man approached her and she went out of the door with him. It was obvious what they were going to be doing. I asked the woman’s husband what he thought about it. The fellow laughed and said, “I have to bring her to town once in a while so she can get laid.”
Our routine was to drink in the bars deep into the night, and then head for one of the restaurants where we finished our day with a heavy meal. We usually ordered steaks or some other meat dish. Then we headed for home and crashed. Some nights I wonder if I bothered to shower. I remember my sheets got dark from the crude oil oozing from my skin.
There were a few incidents that stand out in my memory more than others about that summer. There was an oil well fire that got so bad they had to call the famous “Red” Adair and his team in to snuff it out. They did it by dropping dynamite down the well head. The explosion usually snuffed out the flames. While the fire burned you could see it from miles around. It was a grim reminder as to just how dangerous our jobs were.
One day we were set up at a well far north of Jonesville, somewhere near Hillsdale. At around noon Corky said he wanted to tear down and go into town and have a few drinks. I objected and suggested that we finish our job first. That was one of the first times I saw Corky snap. He went into a rage and I found myself afraid that he was going to attack me. With his strength, I knew I would be badly hurt if it happened. I finally got him calmed down and agreed to tear down and go to town. I don’t remember just where we went, but we ended up in an all-afternoon and evening drinking spree. Eventually we were joined by some of the other Long & Wetzel oil workers. When it came time to go back to Jonesville, most of the guys were too drunk to drive, and we had quite a way to go. I was probably as drunk as the others, but could still stand on my feet, so I was assigned to drive a large truck back to Litchfield. The man who was operating the truck was almost unconscious. I had never driven a big truck like that before, but I remembered that trucks like that had to be double clutched when you shifted. I wasn’t sure just how that was done, but by trial and error, I managed to get that truck running and moving. I even shifted gears although I never was sure I got it out of second gear. Amazingly, I succeeded in getting that truck back to the doghouse that night, taking it down some very winding and hilly roads.
On another occasion we had a visitor arrive at one of the work sites. He was a former Long & Wetzel worker who had just been released from prison. It seems that he did time on a manslaughter charge. What shocked me was the fact that he was armed with a scary looking handgun that he was showing off. He boasted that he got in trouble when he hit a black man in Detroit with his car. He said he didn’t like the guy and hit him on purpose, but got off on a reduced charge of manslaughter. While the other workers seemed glad to see the man and treated him like an old friend, I considered him dangerous and was glad when he left the area.
Looking back on that job, I realize that most of the men I was working with were law breakers, including myself. We all drank while operating heavy machinery on the roads, operated under the influence, and a lot of the men on the crew got arrested during their exploits. It was not uncommon to have missing workers at the doghouse on some mornings, and hear reports that they were in jail. When I was out drinking with them, I felt relatively safe because I was “with” them. And I learned quickly to stay in control of my situation. I always drove when we went together, and made sure that I always was capable of driving us all safely home when our evening escapades were over.
One night I had a carload of oil men with me when we drove several miles east of Jonesville to visit a poplar bar in a nearby town. We were getting ready to return home and some of the men wanted to bring some beer with them for the trip. I knew that wasn’t a good idea but was afraid to say anything. On the way we passed a State Police car parked along the road. The trooper saw we were a car full of men and he probably guessed we were oil men. He pulled out on the road and followed us. I told everyone to put their beer down and warned against anyone taking a drink or doing anything suspicious. But one of the guys in the back seat took a chance, raised his beer for a quick drink, and I was immediately pulled over. The police had us all out of the car, our hands on the roof and legs spread. We were all patted down and the car searched. Open bottles of beer were found. It looked like we were all going to jail. The officers took me aside and I realized that I was going to have to talk myself out of big trouble. Those were the days before police used breathalyzers and they simply determined by our behavior and the way we conducted ourselves if we were drunk. I kept my cool, explained that I was a college student working on a summer job, and that I had no control over the other men in my car. In the end, the troopers issued a summons for drinking and driving and let us all go. I had to go before a Justice of the Peace a few days later. I got all cleaned up and made my appearance. I explained the situation and said I was not drinking in the car, although passengers in my car were. He said I had the right to a trial if I chose. Then he asked me how I was going to plead. I wanted to get it over with and plead guilty. He charged me $10. That was the only time I have ever been charged with anything more than a speeding or parking violation.
One day Corky and I were told to drive to an oil well drilling site in Indiana where a rotary drilling rig lost its diamond drill bit several hundred feet in the ground. They wanted to use our light line rig to try to recover the bit. Those things were very expensive. We drove for hours to get to the site and then worked the rest of the day and most of the night. I don’t think we ever recovered that bit. We got back home the next morning.
One hot summer afternoon we were set up on a site surrounded by trees. There was no breeze and we were sweating heavily. I came down with a severe headache, probably from lack of body salts. While Corky was taking his turn at the wire, I laid down in some nearby grass. As I lay there, looking up at a clear blue sky, I noticed what appeared to be a star. But how could that be? We never saw stars in broad daylight. It was sometime around three o’clock in the afternoon and there was not a cloud to be seen. I stared at the object for a while. Suddenly it flew off at an amazing speed and disappeared behind the trees. I realized that I had just seen an Unidentified Flying Object.
I remained on that job until late August. Not long before I left, Corky was seriously hurt in an accident. We were set up on a well and something went wrong. I think he broke his arm in the machinery. I managed to tear down the equipment on my own and drive him to a hospital. I reported the accident to our crew boss, and was put in charge of the truck. I had another man assigned to work with me for the rest of the day. We went back to that well and finished the job. The next day I had a new boss, one of the older men I met when I first went to work in Mount Pleasant. He and I worked together for my last week or two before I left the job, with my sights on returning to school that fall.
By James Donahue
After the auto accident that interrupted my college studies I took a job with the Long & Wetzel Service in Mount Pleasant that maintained oil wells throughout Southern Michigan. After being broken in I was assigned to work with L. V. Case, cleaning paraffin from flowing oil wells in the Jonesville Area of the state. It was a new strike area in those days and a very active place.
L. V. “Corky” Case was a burly little man with muscular arms and upper torso from years of pulling on wire and lifting heavy iron sinkers. He lived in a mobile home with his wife and small boy. He was a good worker most of the time, although he had two major flaws. He was a drunk and sometimes let the alcohol affect his job. Thus when working with him I found myself often walking a tightrope between coaxing him to get the job done and going along with him to the nearest bar to just go on a binge. Also he had a strange personality quirk. He would remain calm and easygoing for days and sometimes weeks. But then it seemed as if a fire in him was building steam and it had to eventually explode. When it blew, Corky went wild. I saw him get so violent I considered him dangerous. It was not fun being around him when that happened. Yet overall, during that summer, we became friends and daily drinking buddies. It was one of the most memorable jobs I ever worked.
Our daily routine, after I was assigned to work with him, was to gather at a restaurant in a little town called Litchfield. They made great breakfasts there and the coffee was strong and hot. Our usual morning fare was steak and eggs, hash browns and toast. Then we all drove down the hill and gathered at “the dog-house,” a metal shed located in the midst of pumping oil wells. There we waited for the job boss to arrive and give us our work assignments for the day.
Corky and I were usually given one or two specific wells to work on, and a third option in the event we finished those jobs early. Case seemed to know where the wells were located and never had to ask directions. Before leaving the area all of the Long & Wetzel trucks pulled up at a beer store on the road out of the area. There we stocked up on our daily supply of beer, usually a six-pack to a man. Each truck also carried a large metal container full of drinking water. We worked hard and sweated a lot, especially on warm summer days. Most of the liquid consumed on the job, however, was beer.
When I first arrived, it was still early spring and some of the days were cold. Even though we worked hard, the cold had a way of getting in our bones. We used steel barrels partly filled with burning crude oil for heat. When we took breaks, we gathered at the burn barrels to get warm.
Case looked at each oil well almost as if it were a living thing with its own unique personality. Some were gassy and we had to be careful not to breathe the fumes. Others were stuffed with hard paraffin that took hours to break through. Others were located in such remote areas we had to work in wet, swampy areas while mosquitoes and black flies circled us. In the hot summer months we worked with our shirts off so the insects feasted on our blood. Sometimes we were deep in a wooded area. I remember taking breaks and searching for mushrooms. I got so I shared Corky’s enthusiasm for the work we were doing and looked at each well as a distinct challenge.
Once we were set up at a well we took turns spudding. That was a long, tedious job that involved standing by the well and pulling the wire, lifting the heavy sinker up a few feet, then dropping it back into the paraffin. If we were lucky, we saw it drop a few inches or even a foot or two each time the sinker dropped. If not, we just kept lifting and dropping the iron sinker until something started to open up. Sometimes we could clean a well and move on within a few hours. At other times we would stay at a well for a full day and work until dusk before getting the job done. Once set up at a well we never liked to tear down if the job was not finished, so our daily work hours varied.
Once we were finished for the day we took the truck back to the Litchfield dog house, got in our cars, and headed for a favorite tavern, usually in Jonesville. It was a busy place in those days, with not only the workers from Long & Wetzel gathering there, but all of the oil well drilling crews and pipeline crews packing the place. Among them were the whores and prostitutes. Many of the women were old and most were fat. I had the feeling that they were women from the town who were taking advantage of the oil boom and the flow of cash going on in their town. Some of the men would go off with these women. The joke was that after a few drinks, even the old and fat ones started looking good. I couldn’t agree.
I remember one night an older man brought his wife into that bar and sat at a long table where Corky and I were sitting. It wasn’t long before a man approached her and she went out of the door with him. It was obvious what they were going to be doing. I asked the woman’s husband what he thought about it. The fellow laughed and said, “I have to bring her to town once in a while so she can get laid.”
Our routine was to drink in the bars deep into the night, and then head for one of the restaurants where we finished our day with a heavy meal. We usually ordered steaks or some other meat dish. Then we headed for home and crashed. Some nights I wonder if I bothered to shower. I remember my sheets got dark from the crude oil oozing from my skin.
There were a few incidents that stand out in my memory more than others about that summer. There was an oil well fire that got so bad they had to call the famous “Red” Adair and his team in to snuff it out. They did it by dropping dynamite down the well head. The explosion usually snuffed out the flames. While the fire burned you could see it from miles around. It was a grim reminder as to just how dangerous our jobs were.
One day we were set up at a well far north of Jonesville, somewhere near Hillsdale. At around noon Corky said he wanted to tear down and go into town and have a few drinks. I objected and suggested that we finish our job first. That was one of the first times I saw Corky snap. He went into a rage and I found myself afraid that he was going to attack me. With his strength, I knew I would be badly hurt if it happened. I finally got him calmed down and agreed to tear down and go to town. I don’t remember just where we went, but we ended up in an all-afternoon and evening drinking spree. Eventually we were joined by some of the other Long & Wetzel oil workers. When it came time to go back to Jonesville, most of the guys were too drunk to drive, and we had quite a way to go. I was probably as drunk as the others, but could still stand on my feet, so I was assigned to drive a large truck back to Litchfield. The man who was operating the truck was almost unconscious. I had never driven a big truck like that before, but I remembered that trucks like that had to be double clutched when you shifted. I wasn’t sure just how that was done, but by trial and error, I managed to get that truck running and moving. I even shifted gears although I never was sure I got it out of second gear. Amazingly, I succeeded in getting that truck back to the doghouse that night, taking it down some very winding and hilly roads.
On another occasion we had a visitor arrive at one of the work sites. He was a former Long & Wetzel worker who had just been released from prison. It seems that he did time on a manslaughter charge. What shocked me was the fact that he was armed with a scary looking handgun that he was showing off. He boasted that he got in trouble when he hit a black man in Detroit with his car. He said he didn’t like the guy and hit him on purpose, but got off on a reduced charge of manslaughter. While the other workers seemed glad to see the man and treated him like an old friend, I considered him dangerous and was glad when he left the area.
Looking back on that job, I realize that most of the men I was working with were law breakers, including myself. We all drank while operating heavy machinery on the roads, operated under the influence, and a lot of the men on the crew got arrested during their exploits. It was not uncommon to have missing workers at the doghouse on some mornings, and hear reports that they were in jail. When I was out drinking with them, I felt relatively safe because I was “with” them. And I learned quickly to stay in control of my situation. I always drove when we went together, and made sure that I always was capable of driving us all safely home when our evening escapades were over.
One night I had a carload of oil men with me when we drove several miles east of Jonesville to visit a poplar bar in a nearby town. We were getting ready to return home and some of the men wanted to bring some beer with them for the trip. I knew that wasn’t a good idea but was afraid to say anything. On the way we passed a State Police car parked along the road. The trooper saw we were a car full of men and he probably guessed we were oil men. He pulled out on the road and followed us. I told everyone to put their beer down and warned against anyone taking a drink or doing anything suspicious. But one of the guys in the back seat took a chance, raised his beer for a quick drink, and I was immediately pulled over. The police had us all out of the car, our hands on the roof and legs spread. We were all patted down and the car searched. Open bottles of beer were found. It looked like we were all going to jail. The officers took me aside and I realized that I was going to have to talk myself out of big trouble. Those were the days before police used breathalyzers and they simply determined by our behavior and the way we conducted ourselves if we were drunk. I kept my cool, explained that I was a college student working on a summer job, and that I had no control over the other men in my car. In the end, the troopers issued a summons for drinking and driving and let us all go. I had to go before a Justice of the Peace a few days later. I got all cleaned up and made my appearance. I explained the situation and said I was not drinking in the car, although passengers in my car were. He said I had the right to a trial if I chose. Then he asked me how I was going to plead. I wanted to get it over with and plead guilty. He charged me $10. That was the only time I have ever been charged with anything more than a speeding or parking violation.
One day Corky and I were told to drive to an oil well drilling site in Indiana where a rotary drilling rig lost its diamond drill bit several hundred feet in the ground. They wanted to use our light line rig to try to recover the bit. Those things were very expensive. We drove for hours to get to the site and then worked the rest of the day and most of the night. I don’t think we ever recovered that bit. We got back home the next morning.
One hot summer afternoon we were set up on a site surrounded by trees. There was no breeze and we were sweating heavily. I came down with a severe headache, probably from lack of body salts. While Corky was taking his turn at the wire, I laid down in some nearby grass. As I lay there, looking up at a clear blue sky, I noticed what appeared to be a star. But how could that be? We never saw stars in broad daylight. It was sometime around three o’clock in the afternoon and there was not a cloud to be seen. I stared at the object for a while. Suddenly it flew off at an amazing speed and disappeared behind the trees. I realized that I had just seen an Unidentified Flying Object.
I remained on that job until late August. Not long before I left, Corky was seriously hurt in an accident. We were set up on a well and something went wrong. I think he broke his arm in the machinery. I managed to tear down the equipment on my own and drive him to a hospital. I reported the accident to our crew boss, and was put in charge of the truck. I had another man assigned to work with me for the rest of the day. We went back to that well and finished the job. The next day I had a new boss, one of the older men I met when I first went to work in Mount Pleasant. He and I worked together for my last week or two before I left the job, with my sights on returning to school that fall.