Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [27]

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Chapter 27. Oil Wells

By 1895, Claude’s office was running like a fine clock. For his Finance Administrator, he had hired Gerald Whitney from a firm in Chicago. Warren Townson was his Office Manager, and Jeffrey Wright had sold his real estate business and gone to work for Claude as Project Manager.
    Cornell Stevens, his gofor, went back and forth between Houston and Corsicana. At first a few places tried to turn Cornell away because of the color of his skin, but Claude had a way of making it clear that Cornell would be welcomed or there would be payback.
    Much like gold fever, oil fever had taken over East Texas. In Corsicana, there wasn’t any land that didn’t have an oil rig on it.
    Claude had hired William (Willie) Black away from the American Prospecting & Well Drilling company of Kansas. Willie had been the foreman on the rig that found the first well. Claude made him Oil Exploration Manager. Claude had Willie drill a number of test holes out of town on the leases Claude already had, and he found some signs of oil, but no oil. Claude had been able to acquire three leases in Corsicana. All three were good, producing wells, and he was speaking with some other oilmen about building a refinery outside of town. The money was coming in faster than he had thought possible. Oil was in high demand.
    He had three metal derricks constructed that could be easily assembled and disassembled. He had stables for the horses that pulled the large wagons for hauling the parts to the sites. He would load the sections on the wagons then move them to the drill sites and within two days they would be up and drilling.
    When he wasn’t using the horses and wagons himself, they still made money for him, because he also rented them out to other companies that needed to move large equipment.
    Claude loved the oil business, which had everything he longed for. The big machines that bore into the ground made music to his ears. And he thrilled at the possibility of what lay just out of sight. The new century was going to change the world forever and he was a part of it. The money didn’t hurt either.
    He had started construction of a house on ten acres of property Jeff had bought for him. While a lot of the oil people invested in the Stock Market, Jeff had convinced Claude to put his money into land. His was always saying, “God isn’t making any more land, and though its value may go down today, it will always come back up.”
    Dominique was much like her old self and looking forward to moving into their new home. Donna was almost ten and Trey was seven. The school in San Antonio didn’t allow colored or Mexican children in the school. So Claude built one on the ranch for anyone who wanted to attend it, and hired teachers. It was one of the best schools in Texas. Everything in it was new. He paid the teachers very well and had the cream of the crop. White parents from San Antonio began enrolling their kids in the school. Claude charged them a fee, and soon the school was paying for itself. He thought how ironic it was for the white parents who had kept his child out of their free school to now be paying to have their children go to school with him.
    He had wondered how he would deal with the kids’ schooling once the family was in Houston. Dominique had suggested that the kids and she stay at the ranch during the school season. They could come back to Houston for holidays and the summer. James was very attached to the children and was not looking forward to their moving to Houston. And Dominique was very attached to James, the father she never had.

    In the end, Dominique’s suggested arrangement made all the sense in the world. Claude worked all the time and stayed in his hotel suite on those late nights of work. The new house was a good distance from town and its big size would become lonely after a while. The arrangement made everybody happy. Another thing that had not been foreseen was the rise in the price of beef because of the oil strike. In Houston alone, there were three steak houses, and all the restaurants offered steak. It was the Texans’ meal of choice.
    James had doubled the size of his herd and both kids could ride a horse like they were born on the back of one. When James let them go out with the hands to round up the cattle, he came along to keep an eye on them. At age seven, Trey, who was big like his father, could outride most of the hands. Donna could ride as well as anyone but wasn’t much of a cowhand.
    Claude began to keep track of his competition. Cornell made a good spy. The workers on the rigs talked freely around him, and little bits of information were capable of telling a whole story. Claude knew, for example, who had deep pockets and who was working on a shoestring. This was useful because one dry well could end the latter’s dreams and open them up for a buyout. The first person in line always got the best deal. Cornell sent reports to Claude by way of the work train.

    Cornell stayed in the roughnecks’ “tent city,” which had a section for the tents of black workers and their families. Cornell rented a space from the Jackson family for $0.05 a night, which included the evening meal. The tent city was outside of town, between the wells and the rail tracks, and for the white workers it offered booze and loose women, all for a price. The blacks were left to find their own entertainment.
    Three rigs working in the field were owned by he had no idea who. It was said they belonged to an East Coast company, but no one seemed to know its name or anything about its ownership. He did learn, though, that its finances went through Ricardo’s bank.
    Upon hearing of the wells, Claude called Gerald Whitney into his office. “Whitney, I want you to contact Ricardo Rodrigo at our bank and find out who owns rig sites 35, 46, and 52. I can’t find out anything about the owners except that Ricardo’s bank is handling everything for them, from payroll to supply payments. He has to know something.”
    Whitney was taking notes. “I can ask, but banks are not allowed to divulge that kind of information. Also, the bank may have signed a contract that explicitly keeps Mr. Rodrigo from saying anything. That’s how I would set it up.”
    “Let’s hope they aren’t as smart as you. Please go ask.”

    In the meantime, Claude thought about the lack of progress on starting an oil refinery. Rumors of a war between Spain and the United States were circulating, and though few thought anything would come of it, Claude couldn’t help but think how a war would kick up the price of fuel. The possibility of war added urgency to constructing a refinery, which would be needed – if not for this war – then for the next one. Because some of the investors were dragging their feet, not wanting to put up that much money, Claude began thinking of borrowing the money and doing it himself. The investors’ next meeting was on Friday and he planned to tell them it was now or never, he was tired of playing around with them.
    Whitney came back, knocked, and stepped into Claude’s office. “I spoke with the bank and they will release nothing. I’m sorry, but I did say this would happen.”
    “All we can do is ask. I’m going home this afternoon for Valentine’s Day. I’ll have my father look into it. He does own 25 percent of that bank.”
    “Good luck, sir. But I fear that if Mr. Rodrigo is under contract, even your father won’t be able to find out anything. Also, it’s beginning to snow. If you want to make it home today, you might want to get started.”
    Claude laughed. “I’m not afraid of a little snow. I’ve got plenty of time.”

    At 3 o’clock, Claude stepped out into a blinding snow storm. He made it to the Royal Houston Hotel, where he found himself snowbound for the 14th and the 15th of February. It was a snow storm for the record books. In two days, the sky dropped 20 inches of snow on Houston, and it snowed all the way down to Tampico, Mexico, and Pensacola, Florida.
    The oil rigs all shut down, as did any thought of doing any business at all. Millions of dollars were lost due to the shutdown. But Claude saw the silver lining: a number of those shoestring companies would be up for sale.

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers