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Sunday, April 23
More Eureka Springs, Arkansas
by
justeastofeden
on Sun 23 Apr 2006 11:08 AM CDT
Friday, April 21
A Long Way to Nowhere
by
justeastofeden
on Fri 21 Apr 2006 03:17 PM CDT
 A gas well lease road leading into a wheat field in Noble County, Oklahoma. http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com http://ericwilder.blogspot.com
Tuesday, April 18
An East Texas Legend
by
justeastofeden
on Tue 18 Apr 2006 03:39 PM CDT
During the summer of 1969, having just graduated from Northeast Louisiana State College with a degree in geology, I got a job as a mudlogger with Core Lab. I had already been on deep wells in Laurel, Mississippi and Westlaco, Texas. August found me near Mt. Pleasant, Texas, in a horse pasture, on my third wildcat of the summer. I lived in a little one-room apartment in Lone Star, a Texas steel mill town, and worked from 7 at night until 7 in the morning, 7 days a week, until the 13,500’ Smackover test reached total depth. During this time, I witnessed a shoot-out, a stabbing and numerous fights on the rig. It was my welcome to the East Texas oil patch. What I learned from this experience was that East Texas roughnecks were a hard-working, hard-drinking bunch. Every night, when drilling was going smoothly, they would invade my air-conditioned logging trailer to play poker and tell stories. One of the stories they told me was about Dad Joiner and the discovery of the East Texas Field. True or false, it varies somewhat from official accounts. As memory serves me, here is the story told by those wild East Texas roughnecks more than 36 years ago. Already 66 years old, Dad Joiner was a broken-down wildcatter when he moved from Dallas to East Texas in 1926. An educated man, he’d practiced law in Alabama and served in the legislature there. It wasn’t enough for him. Like many others, he was drawn by the lure of Oklahoma black gold and the whispered promise of riches beyond his wildest dreams. Answering the siren call, he made and lost two fortunes during his 28 years in the Sooner State. Joiner was an oil promoter, a breed spawned by “oil fever,” a disease for which, even today, there is no known cure. Having seen the blow-outs in Cushing and heard of the 25,000 BOPD uncontained flows in Oklahoma City, investors, greedy for instant wealth, fairly threw their money at often unscrupulous oil promoters, rife with promises of easy money. Many of the early Oklahoma oil discoveries were funded by these investors, even though most never realized a penny from their investments. Some of the reports of Dad Joiner portray him as a principled visionary, a man with divine knowledge of the infinite riches located in the subsurface of East Texas and determined to find them. The truth is quite different. Joiner went to East Texas because of one thing — cheap leases. 17 dry holes had already reached total depth in the area and most legitimate oil companies had long since abandoned East Texas for more promising regions. Taking advantage of unsubstantiated, earlier-generated reports of possible oil in the Woodbine Sandstone, Joiner used this sparse information to raise enough money to lease a large block of acreage from Daisy Bradford. With these leases, he parlayed the drilling of a wildcat well on the block. Oil rigs were primitive affairs in the late twenties. They shut down drilling at dark, sometimes after penetrating only a few feet during the day. At night, Dad Joiner would hold court at a saloon, drinking whiskey and playing poker with the locals. He also used this time to raise money for his ongoing venture. After drilling two dry holes, Joiner’s money was beginning to “dry up.” In the manner of all good oil promoters, both before and after him, he devised a way to raise enough money to drill a third well, and help fund his high-rolling lifestyle. What he did is now called checkerboarding. Simply put, he subdivided his block of leases like the squares on a checkerboard. He kept the red blocks and sold the black ones. When money got tight, he would subdivide the blocks even further. Through his continued promotion, he raised enough money to drill a third well by May, 1929. In October, 1930, the Daisy Bradford Number 1 struck oil and became the discovery well for the largest oil field in the world. Dad, also in the manner of many oil promoters, had over-sold the well. What does this mean? It means that he sold the interests in the well two or three times. Lawsuits against him began soon after oil was discovered in the Woodbine Sandstone at the Daisy Bradford Number 1. Supposedly, he had sold the offset leases to oilman H.L. Hunt shortly before the Daisy Bradford discovery. The roughnecks that played poker nightly in my logging trailer told a different story. Hunt was also an oil promoter and poker player – one that would be a card playing legend, even in today's high stakes Texas hold-em era. He won Joiner’s offset leases in a poker game - at least according to my roughneck friends - and the rest is history. Don’t mourn Dad Joiner. Even though he died a pauper, he lived one of the most interesting lives. And despite his lack of altruism, he inadvertently discovered a legitimate super-giant oil field, one that may ultimately produce 8 billion barrels of oil. History is the foundation of what we know today, and it’s important to understand what happened in the past. Sometimes, however, words on the printed page are but a shadow of reality. A month in a steamy, East Texas horse pasture taught me that. http://www.ericwilder.com http://ericwilder.blogspot.com Sunday, April 16
A Visit to Tulsa Oklahoma
by
justeastofeden
on Sun 16 Apr 2006 10:08 PM CDT
When I was a student at the Not all of
Purple Clematises
by
justeastofeden
on Sun 16 Apr 2006 04:37 PM CDT
Tuesday, April 11
Vivian's Black Bayou
by
justeastofeden
on Tue 11 Apr 2006 09:04 PM CDT
Here is a topo map, courtesy of the U.S.G.S., showing the proximity of Black Bayou to Vivian, Louisiana. While growing up in Vivian, I spent many days on the Bayou, a body of water as swampy as any place in south Louisiana. Yes, there are even alligators there. http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com Monday, April 10
Old Ponca City Race Course
by
justeastofeden
on Mon 10 Apr 2006 02:38 PM CDT
The old Ponca City Race Course near Ponca City, Oklahoma, is a prominent location in the story Chicken Fries featured on http://www.ericwilder.com . The course hosted SCCA racing events from the 60’s until the 90’s. City streets, still present, formed the race course that abutted scenic Lake Ponca. http://energyissues.blogharbor.com
Earthquakes in Oklahoma
by
justeastofeden
on Mon 10 Apr 2006 01:24 PM CDT
The Daily Oklahoman recently reported an earthquake in Carter County, Oklahoma. While not as prevalent as in places like The publication further reports that in 1952 an earthquake centered near the town of El Reno was felt in Des Moines, Iowa to the north and Austin, Texas to the south - an area of 140,000 square miles. Like many other states, Saturday, April 8
Braydon Bohl
by
justeastofeden
on Sat 08 Apr 2006 10:32 PM CDT
 Here’s a picture of Marilyn’s grandson Braydon. Born premature, he is now a healthy one-year old. http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com
Thursday, April 6
Backyard Edmond, Oklahoma
by
justeastofeden
on Thu 06 Apr 2006 11:16 PM CDT
Wednesday, April 5
Horsefly
by
justeastofeden
on Wed 05 Apr 2006 10:07 PM CDT
Monday, April 3
Side View of St. Louis Cathedral
by
justeastofeden
on Mon 03 Apr 2006 11:02 PM CDT
Here is a stylized picture of St. Louis Cathedral.
 http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com http://ghostofachance.blogspot.com
Saturday, April 1
Crossett Lights
by
justeastofeden
on Sat 01 Apr 2006 12:56 PM CST
There is a scene in the novel Ghost of a Chance where Buck Mcdivit sees a light coming from the water’s edge. Having recently witnessed what he thinks is a ghost, he investigates to find Wiley Johnson, fishing off the marina’s dock by the light of a flickering lantern. Wiley offers Buck a beer, listens to his ghost story then tells him one of his own. “Sounds like a paranormal occurrence, at the very least.” Wiley explains that he once checked out the local legend of a ghost that supposedly haunts the railroad track near Crossett, Arkansas — the ghost of a train conductor that literally lost his head during a railroad accident. As every writer knows, there is a little truth in all fiction. This is true of the story about the headless conductor — a ghost I saw with my own eyes. While attending college in Monroe, Louisiana, I worked at a bowling alley. Much in the manner of all fine Louisiana establishments, the bowling alley had a lounge. After closing at midnight, I, along with Trellis, the mechanic, Chuck, my roommate who also worked at the bowling alley, and Joe, the manager had a few drinks in the lounge. The discussion led to ghosts, the headless conductor of Crossett in particular, and we were in the right frame of mind to check it out for ourselves. Crossett is a little town in Southern Arkansas, not far from the Louisiana border. We stopped at a convenience store along the way to make sure we had enough beer for the trip. After passing through Crossett, we crossed the railroad track and parked beside the road. A jillion stars lit the clear Autumn sky — a good thing as we hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. Joe waited in the car while Trellis, Chuck and I walked down the dark track in search of the headless ghost. Even in our advanced state of inebriation, we never really expected to see it, but see it we did. Darkness and surrounding trees and vegetation made it hard to judge distances, but we almost immediately saw something on the track in front of us — a hundred yards, perhaps a thousand yards away. It was a dim, incandescent blob of light that danced just above the tracks. When we moved toward it, it moved away. When we walked away from it, it chased us. We stayed on the tracks for what must have been an hour, the dancing blob of light present the entire time. We all saw it, even Joe, the bowling alley manager that had driven us to Crossett. Joe didn’t drink alcohol. We saw something. Granted, it may have been swamp gas, or some other unexplained phenomena. What it seemed like to me was an entity, a real being that sensed our presence, meant us no harm but had fun “playing” with us. Don’t believe me? Then take a trip to Crossett, Arkansas and check it out for yourself. http://www.ericwilder.com http://energyissues.blogharbor.com |
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