Class 
 Book 
 
 Copyright ]^°_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
GEO. W. BROWN. 
 
Old Times in Oildom 
 
 By 
 
 Geo. W. Brown 
 
 Being a Series of Chapters in which are Related 
 the Writer's Many Personal Experien- 
 ces, During Fifty Years of Life 
 in the Oil Regions. 
 
 FOR SALE BY GEO. W. BROWN, 
 iOUNGS VILLE, PA. 
 
©2(3 2- 
 
 Ci.A253973 
 
Preface* 
 
 I wish to say to my readers that I have but two reasons for writ- 
 ing this little book. The first reason is that eleven articles were 
 written to the Oil City Derrick, some years ago, in the way of cor- 
 respondence. Then I was requested by the business manager of 
 the Derrick Publishing Company, J. N. Perrine, to write more 
 about "Old Times in Oildom." He explained that they would 
 gladly publish it in book form. 
 
 My second reason is that I wish to enlighten the present genera- 
 tion regarding the many points of difference between the present 
 time and fifty or seventy-five years ago. 
 
 It seems to me to be the duty of those who saw these great chang- 
 es to hand them down to present and future generations — to those 
 who can never know these things first hand. You will by reading 
 this book learn that it is not a book of fiction, with a single thread 
 running through all of it. Dozens and dozens of different little 
 stories will be found in these brief touches on the history of the 
 progress of our great country and state, and dozens of names of 
 worthy but almost forgotten people will be found here. 
 
 The reader should thoroughly understand that the first eleven 
 chapters of this book were written in 1896-1897. The addi- 
 tional chapters were written in 1909. 
 
 G. W. BROWN. 
 
 Youngsville, Pa., July, 1909. 
 
HAULING OIL ON SLEDS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HAULING OIL ON SLEDS. 
 
 Coleman & Batchelor have just commenced a five years' lumber 
 job at the "old Pennsylvania house," four miles below Irvineton. 
 One peculiarity about this business is the fact that the saw mill is 
 on the west side of the Allegheny river, and the shingle mill is on 
 the east side of the river. A tramway is being built three miles 
 back into the lumber woods, where all kinds of timber is found, 
 that flourishes in this climate They cut all, both hard and soft. 
 The loaded tram cars are drawn by a steam locomotive, and run 
 directly onto a ferry boat, which — by the aid of an ijach wire — 
 sails across to the null, where the logs are tumbled into the river, 
 being hitched to and drawn into the mill. This firm has leased the 
 old Pennsylvania house, and a plot of land to pile their lumber on 
 to dry. Speaking of this old house, reminds me of the early days 
 of oil transportation. Before a railroad along the Allegheny was 
 even talked of, the oil was transported from Tidioute to Irvineton 
 in barrels. In the spring, summer and fall, large flat boats towed 
 by two, three and four horses, in single file, were used to transport 
 the oleaginous treasure from the wells at Tidioute to the P. (^ E. 
 railroad at Irvineton. This was greasy work for the men, and 
 killing work on the horses. In the fall and spring, when the shore 
 ice was thick and sharp, the poor animals were pushed through the 
 breaking ice, that would about half bear their weight, cutting their 
 legs so severely that the generally clear waters of the Allegheny 
 ran red with their blood. Many a noble horse laid down his life 
 in this savage work. It was no uncommon sight to see the bloated 
 carcasses of horses lodged along the shore. When a faithful 
 equine would give up his life, the owner found it an easier way 
 to dispose of his carcass by floating it off into the river than to 
 bury it decently on the shore. But when the ice got so solid, 
 in the winter, that it could not be broken by the horses' hoofs, 
 the mode of transportation was on bobsleds, drawn by horses that 
 were not killed in the ice. As the oil wells about Tidioute on 
 
6 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Dennis run in particular, were considerably on the gusher order, 
 it required a vast number of teams to transport it. One trip was 
 a good day's work for a team. The loads ranged from six to 
 twelve barrels each. The reader can easily imagine the great ne- 
 cessity for hotels and stabling under these circumstances. The 
 roads were completely lined with teams. It was almost an im- 
 possibility for the hosts of teamsters to find board and lodging 
 for themselves and horses. This was the situation of things when 
 "Jim" Conroe, an old farmer domiciled on the east bank of the 
 Allegheny, took it into his head to show his philantrophy by build- 
 ing a four-story hotel on the narrow strip of land between the 
 wooded hillslope and the river. He put on all the masons and 
 woodworkers that could find room to work and soon the magni- 
 ficent Pennsylvania house reared its tall roof skyward, standing on 
 an immense cut stone foundation, and ornamented by huge wooden 
 pillars in front. People were wont to say: "How will Jim ever get 
 his money back?" Well, Jim did get his money back in about 
 one year. His big hotel filled up every night, as if by magic, 
 and some nights more were turned away than were taken in, 
 and Jim soon found himself rolling in wealth. But an end comes 
 to all good things. Soon the cunning oil producer began to lay 
 pipe lines. Then a railroad, now the W. N. Y. & P., then the 
 Warren and Franklin road, with its iron tank cars (brought 
 into use by the lamented Adna Neyhart), great iron tanks that 
 held the oil until convenient to move it to refineries, lightened the 
 weight of the crude on the ground where it was produced; pump 
 stations sent the oil through many arteries all over the land, 
 and James Conroe found his great hotel unoccupied by guests. 
 He lived in this hotel with his family until it nearly rotted down 
 over his head. Then this lumber company came and rented the 
 property, rejuvenated the old hotel, and now three families live 
 under its hospitable roof, and "keep boarders." Conroe, the 
 builder, has moved out, and now contentedly spends his waning 
 years on the fine old farm above Dunn's eddy, known as the "Dave 
 CruU farm." Such are a few of the changes in the great oil busi- 
 ness. Oil cost something those days. The fourtnate owner of a 
 gusher was obliged to pay $2 each for his barrels, and $1 for 
 hauling, a smart sum for storage at the railroad depot, and high 
 freights to the railroad corporations, which had not- learned to 
 respect this new oil business. 
 
 If the eye of any of those old teamsters happens to fall on this, 
 they will recollect the late James Patterson, who checked their 
 loads of oil at Irvineton. Many a belated teamster came after 
 
' STAGING TO OIL CITY 7 
 
 Mr. Patterson had "shut up shop" for the night. The most ur- 
 gent entreaties of these teamsters, asking Mr. Patterson to check 
 their loads, were invariably answered by, "1 cawn't do it," and 
 the poor fellows — many of whom wished to go elsewhere for the 
 night — were obliged to linger until morning. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 STAGING BEFORE RAILROADS WERE A BLESSING TO 
 OIL CITY. 
 
 When the Atlantic & Great Western railway extended its Oil 
 City branch (or Franklin branch as it was called at that time) to 
 Franklin, the author, who, at that time, was helping to 
 supply Smith & Allison, the only lumber yard owners in Oil City, 
 with boards and shingles, was making almost weekly trips to the 
 "Hub of Oildom." On one of these trips he took his wife along 
 to let her see the beauties of oildom, as the beauties shown forth 
 at that time. 
 
 Well, one very cold winter's morning we took the P. & E. ac- 
 commodation to Corry. Here we changed "cars" for Meadville. 
 A rather pleasant ride on the old Atlantic & Great Western soon 
 landed us in a great covered depot in Meadville. After a first- 
 class dinner at the McHenry house, that great structure so well 
 known to old-time oil men, where for $1 the hungry traveler 
 could be feasted as sumptuously as at any of the great hotels of 
 New York. Alas for all vanishing things. How the greatness of 
 the McHenry house has fallen, once the white-aproned colored 
 waiter flourished, now rats, and I was on the point of sajdng, owls 
 find a home. We took passage on the "Franklin branch" for that 
 "Nursery of Great Men"— FrankHn. No "Exchange hotel" at 
 that time (in fact no Mitchell Hved there to build one.) We, wife 
 and I, put up at the United States hotel, Franklin's pride in the 
 hotel line. After partaking of a very palatable supper, we were 
 consigned to the only vacant room in the house; but after being 
 piloted in devious ways among cots by the dozen, placed in the 
 parlor and halls in every nook and corner by the accommodating 
 porter, we found that we were in a room without lock or fastener 
 of any kind. I did not feel safe, but my wife, the courageous 
 woman that sjie alw9.ys was, said, "Let the door go without fast- 
 
8 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 ening: no one will hurt us." With slight'misgivings, I fell asleep 
 that night to be awakened about three o'clock in the morning by 
 a man crawling around on the floor of our sleeping apartment. 
 (Don't get alarmed reader, nothing is going to happen.) I raised 
 on my elbow and also raised my voice in a courageous tone, and 
 demanded of the intruder his business in our room. The incoher- 
 ent muttering of the supposed culprit soon convinced us that the 
 poor fellow was a victim to old King Alcohol, and that he was on 
 the verge of the "jim jams." He had just sense enough left to get 
 out of that room as gracefully as a man is expected to when not 
 able to walk upright. He was no criminal, simply in a dazed 
 condition. Several other men have been in tlse same condition 
 from the same cause. The next morning we took passage on the 
 stage for Oil City. Five dollars was the modest charge for two of 
 us. This would have been less burdensome if not for the fact that 
 the male passengers were obliged to jump out many times and help 
 extricate the wheels of the stage from the deep, frozen "chuck 
 holes." In fact, we not only helped lift the wheels out of these holes, 
 but many times we walked along for quite a distance with our 
 shoulders to the vehicle in sometimes vain endeavor to keep the 
 stage wheels clear of those deep holes. After a short sojourn at 
 the "Gibson house," which would not compare favorably with the 
 pride of Oil City, the Arlington, in size and accommodation, but 
 in good cheer its full equal, myself and wife concluded we would 
 reach railway accommodations by a different route than the one 
 we came. The route chosen was up Oil Creek "by stage" to the 
 Shaffer farm, where the "Oil Creek railroad" then had its terminus. 
 Profiting by my experience while getting from Franklin to Oil 
 City, I very gallantly paid S5 for my wife's "stage fare" to the 
 Shaffer farm, and "hoofed it" on terra firma myself. You read- 
 ers may think this is a sort of a "buckwheat" arrangement to save 
 $5. Nothing of the kind. This arrangement had a twofold ad- 
 vantage,in fact, a triplefold advantage. First, it was much easier for 
 a man to walk from Oil City to Shaffer farm than to try to hang 
 on to a "stage and ride"; second, my "better half" was much 
 safer with her faithful husband walking by the side of the 
 jostling, tipping, r^^^tthng "stage," ready with his strong arms to 
 arrest the movement of the stage when it would be standing on 
 two wheels, ready to fall on its side; and, third, there was only 
 room in the crowded thing called a "stage" for the few male travel- 
 ers. The ladies were afflicted with a harum-scarum boy for a 
 driver, who would lash his horses into the numerous crossings of 
 Oil Creek, without any regard to whether the ice was thick enough 
 
OIL GREEK POND FRESH 9 
 
 to hold them up or just thin enough to let them go through with 
 a smash and a crash. Such driving I never witnessed before or 
 since. It was^ really a relief to all concerned when the carriage, 
 stage, wagon or whatever it might be called, broke down with a 
 crash when two miles below Shaffer farm. I never saw a more 
 wining set of travelers than those ladies. They never knew what 
 a comfort it was to have a genuine breakdown before. When the 
 cars were sighted, a happier set of ladies were not met with on Oil 
 Greek than those who were just released from the perils of Oil 
 Creek stage travel. All got to the train on time except one 
 "smart" young man and his best girl. The young man had more 
 confidence in his time piece than in others carried by experienced 
 travelers and insisted on all taking a slower gate. All got on the 
 train "just in time" except this "smarty," who had the fun of see- 
 ing the train move off, not to return for him and his girl until the 
 next day. In this age of progress, let the passenger of those days 
 answer whether there is an improvement when he now lies down in 
 a luxurious berth of a Pullman sleeper and glides along the crooked, 
 winding Oil Creek, without a jar. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OIL CREEK POND "FRESH." 
 
 The young people don't know, and the older ones have nearly for- 
 gotten, when walking over the smooth, hard brick pavements of 
 Oil City, what a change science and hard knocks have brought 
 about. Let the reader look backward a few years — what do we 
 see? We see a sea of thick mud in all the streets of Oil City, the 
 depth of which could only be guessed at. The writer at one time 
 stood on the corner near the First M. E. church (which was burned 
 years ago) and saw, with his own eyes, three unfortunate horses 
 floundering flat in the very deep mud, with as many gangs of men 
 trying to tow the poor brutes to one side of the street, where the 
 mud was not quite as deep as in the middle of this muddy canal. 
 Now, mind, these horses were all down at the same time, in three 
 different directions, all in plain sight of the corner spoken of above. 
 One of the horses was owned and driven by the only Tom Hecker, 
 who is known to every man, woman and child in Oil City, and who, 
 from almost time immemorial, has raised chickens and took 
 toll at the north end of the Suspension bridge.. Tom can tell you. 
 
10 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 about mud and Oil City pond freshets. 
 
 Fearing that the unsophisticated readers may not know what a 
 pond freshet is, I will say that the mode of getting the oil from the 
 big wells along Oil Creek to the Allegheny river was by towing 
 boats and barges up Oil Creek to the wells along the banks on 
 either side with horses, then running the oil from the wooden tanks 
 into these boats, in bulk. Tube works were not heard of those 
 days in this section, and the pipes that conveyed the oil from the 
 tanks to the boat were generally made of boards, planks or any- 
 thing that happened to be lying around loose. When all the own- 
 ers of boats were ready, and they were legion, the chutes on all 
 dams above Titusville would be cut. Then came the rushing 
 waters, ropes that held the loaded boats to the shores would be cut 
 and the mad race for the Allegheny would be on. No old pencil of 
 mine can describe the scene. Little and big bulk boats would 
 fight their way down the rushing waters, endways, sideways and 
 in all shapes, these boats would heave in sight of the shanty town 
 of Oil City. The old bridge across the mouth of the creek would 
 be black with people who flocked from the rough board shanties, 
 called houses, to see one of the sights of the world, such a sight as 
 was never seen before and never will be seen again. I witnessed 
 one of these runs which ended very disastrously. The first boat 
 to reach the bridge was one carrying 400 barrels of oil, in bulk. The 
 boat and oil was owned by an old Oil City citizen named Turner. 
 He didn't turn that boat and cargo into money. The forward end 
 of the boat struck a rock a few rods above the bridge, swung around 
 and sailed up against the middle pier of the old bridge, the middle 
 of the boat striking the pier. Turner's boat came around the pier 
 in two pieces, and his oil painted the river green from shore to 
 shore. But if the show had ended here a vast amount of money 
 would have been saved. The first boat that cleared the old creek 
 bridge safely stuck on the river bar, out in front of the mouth of 
 the creek. The river was low, and the creek high, consequently 
 the hundreds of boats piled up against each other until the creek 
 was a great drift pile from, the bar in the river, to quite a distance 
 above the Lake Shore tunnel. As the oil was slashing around 
 loose in all these boats it was as amusing to the observer as it was 
 dangerous to the boatmen to see the oil, when the boat would 
 smash into the jam, go surging from the rear to the front of the 
 boat, there to pour into the waters of the Allegheny. As may be 
 imagined, this general smashup was a great loss to the owners of 
 the boats and oil. Tens of thousands of barrels of oil covered the 
 surface of th river from shore to shore. This vast amount of oil, 
 
PITHOLE HOTEL AND LIVERY CHARGES 11 
 
 as it floated Pittsburgward, made the Allegheny one great river of 
 green. 
 
 Old Oil City Settlers will bear me out in saying taat the young 
 dudes and dudesses of the far-famed Hub missed one of the great- 
 est, sights that falls to the lot of mortals to behold by being born 
 too late to see an Oil Creeli oil pond freshet And now here is where 
 the irrepressible Tom Hecker comes in again. When Tom saw 
 that so much beautiful green grease had got away from the owners 
 he improvised a small dam near the old Moran house, gathered a 
 lot of barrels on short notice and, as oil was about $10 a barrel at 
 that time, he cleared about $900 on this afternoon's work. 
 
 One word about the price of real estate in those muddy times. 
 The Hon. William Hasson offered to sell to me one quarter of an 
 acre of land where the post office now stands for $200. I could 
 have borrovN^ed the money and paid for it, but my dim vision could 
 see nothing in it. My neighbors, J. C. and D. Mead, took the ven- 
 ture and paid the $200, built the very substantial "Mead hotel," 
 which cost them the sum of $500. They sold out in a year for 
 $5000,. While they were building their hotel the Mead brothers 
 urged me to take the quarter acre lot adjoining their hotel lot at 
 $200, but my business capacity was not equal to the occasion, and 
 I never became an Oil City lot owner. 
 
 CHAPTER I\. 
 
 PITHOLE HOTEL AND LIVERY CHARGES. 
 
 " A few words about teaming. The word teaming meam} some- 
 thing when Oil City was a shanty town. The soft alluvial soil on 
 the Hasson flats was good material to form mortar beds of, when 
 nothing could be moved without that faithful servant of man— the 
 horse— and as business boomed to such an extent that thousands 
 of horses were needed to keep things moving, the flats soon be- 
 came, in a rainy time, one mammoth mudhole. 
 
 Now, to illustrate things, and to give the modern reader a 
 slight idea of the cost of doing things at the time of which I write 
 I will give an account of my first oil venture. I was taken in as a 
 partner of J. C. & D. Mead, to operate a lease on Cherry run, 
 about a half mile above Rouseville. I owned a quarter interest 
 and was unanimously elected superintendent. Well, to make a 
 long story short, the first well was finished at a cosji^of^bout $9.000.,, 
 
12 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 The reader may think that there was mismanagement on the part 
 of the superintendent in running up such a bill as that in putting 
 down one well in "shallow territory." After an explanation, the 
 reader will think different. The teaming was the great factor in 
 the big expense account. In the first place, a boiler was drawn onto 
 the ground by four span of horses, at $18 a span. Then after try- 
 ing to drill a few weeks, the fact leaked out that there were not 
 enough flues inside the boiler and the old sawlog-shaped thing 
 was hustled aside and a new $2,000 boiler put in its place. This 
 last venture was satisfactory. That high priced boiler was equal 
 to the task of making the steam to keep the unweildy old second- 
 hand engine in motion. But now let us look again at the cost of 
 this $9,000 job. Here is where the text "teaming" comes in 
 again. This big boiler would not boil without heat, and to make 
 heat wood or coal was required, and as wood was about $5 a cord 
 delivered, we used coal. Cranberry coal. From the mines to our 
 oil well was one great river of very stiff mud. This coal was hauled 
 on wagons, to which was hitched three span of horses, and we paid 
 the very modest little price of $1.25 per bushel. The owners of 
 the coal were not unreasonable in charging what seems, in these 
 days of railroads, a big steal. The sellers of this coal were fair 
 dealers. They could not get the coal out of the crude Cranberry 
 mines and haul it through this deep mud as fast as the green oper- 
 ators would take it at $1.25 per bushel. Well, the reader can see, 
 without glasses, that this kind of work kept up for several weeks, 
 with the little light tools of those days, could very easily reach 
 the $9,000 mark. Scientific operators of today will wonder 
 whether this company of Mead & Brown came off winners or losers. 
 The answer is neither. Oil was $3.50 per barrel and the well pan- 
 ned Out about 25 barrels a day, and kept up this production until 
 the company sold out and were neither winners nor losers, from a 
 financial standpoint. But in an educational point of view, the 
 company were the gainers. They came off with a few hundred 
 dollars' worth of experience. 
 
 Another leaf from my own experience will help along with this 
 article with "teaming" for the text. 
 
 Mead & Co. (which means ourself and Nelson Mead, now of 
 Cory don. Pa.,) leased a building lot on a back street at Pithole 
 City and built a store house, of the rough order, on said lot. We 
 were obliged to flatboat our lumber and material down the Alle- 
 gheny from Irvineton to McCray's Landing, a noted commercial 
 point at that time. From the landing to Pithole City, four miles, 
 was found a typical oil country mudhole. We (Mead & Co.) paid 
 
GEN. BURNSIDE'S RAILROAD 13 
 
 $20 per thousand to have our lumber hauled and delivered on our 
 speculative building lot. The store room went up with a rush, at 
 a cost of $800. When completed we were offered $1800 for the 
 building. We wanted $2000 for it. Our cutsomer wanted us to 
 give him three days to think about it. We gave the time. At the 
 end of three days he had dropped $800 and offered us $1,000. After 
 a hurried consultation, Mead & Co. concluded that at this rate of 
 dropping off, it would not take a very long time to get below cost. 
 So we closed the bargain, content with $200 profit on our venture. 
 Our customer gave us $650 cash down and a bank note due in 30 
 days for $350. At the end of 30 days when Mead & Co. called at 
 the then waning oil metropolis, our customer wanted to give us the 
 property for the $350 note. As we were not anxious to buy Pit- 
 hole City property on the declining valuation, we refused the gen- 
 erous offer, and called on the bank and drew our $350. Mead & 
 Co. were not a grasping corporation and their kind hearts could 
 not be brought to the point of taking a $1 ,000 property for $350. 
 
 To show the reader that horseback riding was a luxury those 
 days, to be paid for as well as teaming, I will say I hired a little bit 
 of horseflesh, with a saddle on, one day, during my business career 
 in Pithole, for the purpose of riding four miles, to McCray's Land- 
 ing and return. V\ hen the trip was finished, the liveryman, who 
 was not stopping at Pithole for his health, charged me $5. I told 
 the dealer in horses that I did not intend to buy the horse, but 
 only to pay for the use of it about two hours. A glance at the 
 man's face showed that he meant business and I handed over the 
 fiver without further protest. W'hen I took into consideration the 
 fact that I had, that very morning, paid 75 cents to a hotel man 
 for sleeping in a haymow in a barn, without even a blanket, I came 
 to the conclusion that the liveryman was quite reasonable in his 
 charges, and was only keeping abreast of the times. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GEN. BURNSIDE'S RAILROAD. 
 
 The young citizens and part of the old, of Oil City, while enjoy- 
 ing the blessings of four railroads, may not know the difficulty 
 under which outside capitalists labored in bringing the present 
 state of affairs about. 1 well remember that when the Atlantic & 
 Great Western built a branch of their road from Meadville to Reno, 
 
14 OLD'TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 the management found themselves "up a stump" when reaching 
 the sacred precincts of the "Hub." The "city fathers" would not 
 let a noisy and smoky railroad come into the golden "streets" of 
 Oil City. The muddy streets and the creek and river were good 
 enough for them. Besides, there was "no room on the narrow 
 fiats for railroad tracks." The city of Reno was not quite large 
 enough for a great railroad terminus, so a railroad was built from 
 Reno to Plumer. The city of Plumer was the terminus. Oil 
 City, with its short sighted and high-toned council was left out in 
 the cold. I had the pleasure of riding from Franklin to Plumer 
 several times on this picturesque and expensive railroad. I am 
 not exactly sure as to the distance from Reno to Plumer, but I 
 think it was about 16 miles. This is not as the crows fly, but as 
 the surveyors laid out the road. The route ran toward Dempsey- 
 town for several miles, when the top of the mountain was reached. 
 Here a station was built, and a prospective town laid out in lots 
 (Oil City speculators did not tumble over each other to buy lots) ; 
 then down grade for a few more miles brought the road over 
 dangerous looking trestles plump into McClintockville, then up 
 through Rouseville and on up Cherry Run to Plumer, the terminus 
 of the only railroad in this great oil region. 
 
 Coming down the mountain side from the direction of Dempsey- 
 town to McClintockville, a passenger could get a peep at a part of 
 Oil City. The part that could be seen seemed to almost hide its 
 head in shame at the thought that Reno, Dempseytown, McClint- 
 ockville, Rouseville, Cherry Run, the Humboldt refinery and 
 Plumer could have a railroad, but the greasy, busy hub of oildom 
 could not have one. The city council and everj^body else were 
 obliged to get out of the city on a raft, flat boat, wagon, horseback 
 or afoot, while Plumerites could take a seat for New York or any 
 city, on a soft cushion in a railway passenger coach. Of course the 
 haughty citizen of Plumer was obliged to "change cars" at Reno, 
 from the standard guage to the (then ) six-foot guage of the Atlantic 
 & Great Western. But what of that? Could they not glide down 
 Cherry Run and up through several townships over the mountain 
 to Reno, with the serene satisfaction of knowing that poor little 
 Oil City had no railroad connection with the outer world? Well, 
 the reader may say,"Who was so short sighted as to build a road 
 with such grades, when Oil City, with its commanding location, 
 was sure to become quite a railroad center in no great length of 
 time, regardless of near-sighted rulers?" I cannot answer that 
 questional can say that a man of great renown was president of 
 the Plumer road. 
 
GEN. BURNSIDE'S RAILROAD ' 15 
 
 The only time that I ever had the pleasure of seeing General 
 Burnside was when he was seated on a pile of ties, on a flat car, or 
 gondola, making strenuous efforts to get over the road, of which he 
 was president. Two of these flat cars, partly loaded with ties, 
 were hitched to a fine, new locomotive. Three times the start 
 was made from Reno, and three times these two cars were backed 
 down to the junction at Reno, for a new start, after having labored 
 up the mountain side a mile or two. The fourth time the summit 
 was gained, up among the Venango county farms, and the great 
 general soon found himself and directors flying down over the dan- 
 gerous looking gullies to the raging Oil Creek. I never heard the 
 general's report after this patient ride, but very likely it was not 
 very encouraging to the stockholders of his oil country railroad. 
 
 Speaking of Plumer railroads reminds me of the old Pithole 
 railroad. This was a six-foot guage, and it came to the very doors 
 of Plumer. Little can be said of this road, only that it was built 
 from the mouth of Pithole creek to the mushroom town of a few 
 month's duration, Pithole City. When the city moved out the 
 railroad moved out also. Plumer was tapped on both sides by 
 new railroads, but they did not stick. Just imagine passenger 
 trains running four trips a day from Pithole City to the mouth of 
 Pithole creek. It is not likely that one passenger a day would pass 
 over the road at the present time. The superintendent of the road, 
 Blair, for many years superintendent of the Shenango road, kindly 
 gave me a free pass over the four-mile road, but it ceased operation 
 before I had an opportunity to use it, and the pass died on my 
 hands. Before closing this No. 5 chapter, I wish to give the busi- 
 ness youth of to-day a hint in regard to the cost of doing business 
 in those days. I bought a quarter interest in one acre of oil land 
 at Pithole, on which some men were trying to put down a well with 
 a spring pole. In other words, they were trying to "kick it down." 
 I did not know the exact location of my purchase, so I hied me 
 away to Franklin to get a view of the docket. I found the clerk 
 in the register and recorder's office and made known my business 
 to him. I wished to copy the lease. The clerk was driven with 
 business. He was flying around in a great hurry. He said, "Can 
 you give me the day of the month and the year when this lease 
 was recorded?" I told him I could give the year but I had 
 not the month and day. He said "I can't find it vv^ith that 
 direction, but if you will give me $50 I will try to find it." As I 
 had no $50 bill in my vest pocket at that certain time and as 
 I had more time to fool away than the clerk seemed to have, I ask- 
 ed for a loan of his index for a short time. He rather reluctantly 
 
i6 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 handed me the desired book and within the next 50 minutes 1 had 
 a copy of the Pithole lease and felt somewhat as if I had done $50 
 worth of business in just 50 minutes. Court house tips those days 
 were worth looking after. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JAMES S. McCRAY. 
 
 This article will treat upon Petroleum centre when it was a sec- 
 ond Pithole City. You readers, who have not been an eye witness 
 to the lively scenes that 1 am about to relate, have heard more or 
 less about ancient Petroleum Centre. The wayfarer, in passing 
 the quiet little hamlet now on a swift running W. N. Y. & P. train, 
 don't see the surging, bustling, mixed-up masses of humanity that 
 once thronged the streets. Your oldest readers will, perhaps, 
 remember that about the time Pithole City made such a sudden 
 fizzle. Petroleum Centre dawned on the oil country scene like a 
 meteor. The Maple Shade well and Coquette well, flowing their 
 thousands of barrels per day of high priced oil, set the whole oil 
 country wild, and soon the town of half a hundred had a popula- 
 tion that ran into thousands, and what kind of a population was 
 it? Well, that is a hard question to answer. It was composed of 
 all classes, from the murderer to the minister of the gospel. The 
 thugs, gamblers and soiled doves were in the majority. About 
 200 of the latter came down from the fast waning Pithole City and 
 took up their abode in Petroleum Centre's dance houses, of which 
 there were about a half dozen, free and easies and other "houses." 
 The male population was but little better than the female and 
 Petroleum Centre was a "daisy town." Murder was among the 
 crimes committed here and the lesser felonies can never be enum- 
 erated. Still, many good Christian people found themselves sur- 
 rounded by this wicked population. Three churches went up like 
 magic. Methodist Episcopal, Presbyterian and Catholic churches; 
 also a very creditable school building. I will speak in particular 
 of the Presbyterian church as I took the contract of building it. 
 The late James S. McCray, who, when alive, was known to every 
 oil operator from Allegany, N. Y., to Lima, O., was chairman of 
 the building committee. "Jim," as all called him, had a little in- 
 come of S5 a minute, night and day, Sundays and all, from his 
 hillside farm, circulated a subscription paper to raise $6,500, the 
 
JAMES S. McGRAY 17 
 
 cost of the church. Dr. Egbert headed the Hst with $1,000 and 
 "Jim" followed with a like amount and two others, whose names 
 have gone from my memory, came down with four figures, and in 
 less than a day the whole amount was raised. McCray collected 
 the money as he went along, and took it home with him the same 
 night, put it under the pillow of his brother-in-law for safe keeping, 
 but one or more of Petroleum Centre's crooks slipped a little chloro- 
 form in through the window and slipped the great wad of green- 
 backs out, and in the morning nothing but a strong smell of chloro- 
 form and a very sick brother-in law was found in the room. 
 
 The thieves had a gay time among the dance houses on this 
 church money, and "Jim" paid for the church from his own pocket 
 with as good grace as could be expected. His time, at the period 
 I speak of, was so much taken up in looking after his big income 
 that he let the matter drop, after just a little ineffectual scolding. 
 
 I mention just an incident or two that will show up the oddities 
 of this sometime millionaire. (This is the amount that he could 
 have placed his farm in a stock for at one time.) During the 
 period of two months while my carpenters were building the 
 church, Jim frequently invited me to accompany him to his home, 
 nearly a mile from town, on the mountain slope. I often accepted 
 his hospitality. (He was a second cousin of mine and a very 
 cheerful relative.) On a very dark night on one of these trips, 
 as we wended our way up through the woods, we were a little 
 alarmed by hearing a pistol shot a few rods ahead of us. We nat- 
 urally thought that as there were but two of us and four of them 
 that we would get the worst of it, if that pistol shot meant war on 
 us. We were somewhat relieved in mind when we met the four 
 men, and they passed along without paying the least attention to 
 the man of money. We never knew who the men were or what 
 caused the pistol shot. When we were fairly away from the men 
 and by the sound of their voices were convinced that they were at 
 a safe distance Mr. McCray gave vent to his feelings in the follow- 
 ing words: ' ' 1 wish there had never been a drop of oil found on Oil 
 Creek. ^ I can't sleep nights. My dog makes a fearful fuss nearly 
 every night, as if some prowlers were about. And I can't come up 
 through these brush without expecting a club over my head, 
 handled by some of these wretches who would murder me for my 
 money." After we had safely reached his fireside I mentioned his 
 big income from his 400-barrel wells, and oil at $3.00 per barrel. 
 Jim took his pencil and figured a while, then he said: ''My in- 
 come is $5.00 a minute; if I had figured on this before we left town I 
 would have hired a livery rig to bring us up." The next morning 
 
18 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 I was out of bed at quite an early hour. About sunrise — before 
 breakfast — casting my eyes in the direction of one of Mr. McCray's 
 many meadows, I saw a wagon load of hay coming toward the barn 
 and Jim was walking along behind the load with a pitchfork on his 
 shoulder. He had glanced out of his sleeping room, at daybreak, 
 and saw clouds gathering; then he hustled his hired man to 
 the fields with a wagon and horses to save a load of hay that was 
 liable to get spoiled if rain came. He pitched the load on the 
 wagon himself. At another time I found him in one of his fields, 
 in his shirt sleeves, digging green sprouts away from the oak 
 stumps. He was covered with perspiration, and almost breath- 
 lessly, he told me that he had been ''making fence and digging 
 sprouts for two weeks, and was not quite done with the job yet. 
 At this time he said: ''I have 100,000 barrels of oil, and I am of- 
 fered $4.50 per barrel. I have it in tanks, and I will hold it until it 
 sweats through the iron before I take less than %5 a barrel for it." 
 He afterward sold it for $1.12 a barrel, when much of it had been 
 wasted by leakage and evaporation. There was only one James 
 S. McCray. Of all the Oil Creek and other farm owners who were 
 suddenly made rich by the oil business none were better known, 
 and none were more honest and upright in their dealings with all. 
 His word was as good as his bond. 
 
 And now, "one on myself" will not be out of place. When gett- 
 ing the lumber on the ground for this church I found much diffi- 
 culty. No railroad passed through Petroleum Centre at that time. 
 The framing timber of the church had to be rafted and floated to 
 Oil City, then towed with horses up Oil creek to Petroleum Centre. 
 The lumber was billed to Pioneer, a mile above Petroleum Centre. 
 Then came the rub, to get this lumber down the creek through mud 
 to the hubs of the wagon. A construction train was at work build- 
 ing a side-track on the Boyd farm, across the creek opposite Pe- 
 troleum Centre. I slipped a $20 bill into the hand of the conductor 
 of the construction train and bribed him to hitch three lumber cars 
 to the rear of his gravel train and pull them down that mile. As 
 there was no side-track at Boyd farm I got men enough to unload 
 my lumber as quick as the railroad employees unloaded the gravel 
 car. Thus, the conductor got his $20 and did not lose one minute 
 of time. Twenty dollars was a "right smart" price for handling 
 one coupling pin, but I saved about $50 by the transaction. _ But 
 the reader has not seen the "one on myself" yet. Here it is: All 
 this business kept me in this wicked town a part of the time. I 
 stopped at the American hotel — a very good oil country hotel, 
 that has long since disappeared. One night a dance was given for 
 
JAMES; S. McGRAY 19 
 
 the benefit of the guests. The music was furnished by one of the 
 dance house bands; three nice looking and very excellent musi- 
 cians made the melody for the occasion. I was something of a 
 violinist those days, and I played a few sets to rest these musicians, 
 while they took a whirl at the "giddy mazes of the dance." Those 
 three young men said they were not of the class that danced after 
 their music, but they were far from home and were getting as 
 much out of their accomplishments as possible, but that they 
 would be very sorry to let their mothers, away in the east, know 
 the quality of their employers. I had no right to doubt their word 
 and don't now. Now comes the joke. The next evening I was 
 passing along the busy street and those melodious strains of music 
 of^the night before floated into my ears through the open door of 
 a "dance house." I promised myself, when a boy, to never enter 
 one of these places, and never had broken my promise. I could 
 see my virtuous friends making music with piano, horn and violin 
 and felt like speaking to them. I stood for a few moments unde- 
 cided. _ Just two nights before that time a man had been shot and 
 killed in a ">dance hall" a Httle farther up the street. My thoughts 
 told me that if I should go in there, and break my promise, if any- 
 body would be shot it would be me. But for all this the music got 
 the best of me, and I stepped in and greeted my newly-made mus- 
 ical friends. I was immediately asked to take the violin and "play 
 a set." Well, I thought I could not get much lower, so I took the 
 proffered instrument and led off, and disgraced the best quadrille 
 I knew. While the music of my violin floated on the air, very 
 much scented, assisted by the skillful manipulations of the 'piano 
 and cornet, my mind was busy. It was more troubled than ever 
 was Dr. Parkhurst when visiting such places. Just as I was think- 
 ing that if I should be shot and carried home to my wife a corpse 
 the history of the occurrence in the newspapers would not be grati- 
 fying to my relatives, a big fight took place, and one man was 
 knocked down and I could hear the blood spilHng and gurgling 
 from his wounds. The dancing girls came running back, dodging 
 behind the piano, crying out, "They will shoot! they will shoot!" 
 Then I thought my time had come to atone for breaking my prom- 
 ise to myself. And as the piano legs were not large enough to pro- 
 tect the dancers and musicians, both, I opened a door behind the 
 music stand, not knowing where it led to, and stepped out into 
 God's pure air. By a flank movement I got around to the front 
 street and to my hotel, with a new promise to myself, that as this 
 was the first "dance hall" visited by me it would also be the last 
 and I have kept the promise. ' 
 
20 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GRANDINS AND J. B. WHITE. 
 
 I want to say something about the Grandins and J. B. White. 
 The Grandins, aided by their immense amount of cash, always 
 turned what at first promises to be a losing game into piles of 
 money. Here is an instance: A few years ago they sent the Hon. 
 J. B. White of Youngsville, into the state of Missouri to buy yellow 
 pine timberland. Mr. White was as full of energy "as an egg is full 
 of meat," and ere long he had a deed for about 70,000 acres of land 
 nicely covered with a fine quality of yellow pine. _ Then, under the 
 superintendency of Mr. White, an immense mill was built, and 
 millions of feet of lumber manufactured. But this lumber had to 
 be drawn on wagons over 10 miles to reach a railroad. Under the 
 circumstances the cost almost kept pace with the income. And 
 now comes the point where their capital came into good play. 
 They took a large amount of stock in a projected railroad and in- 
 sured the building of it. The road ran 27 miles through their pine 
 timber. I was told by one of the brothers that now they made a 
 profit of $8 per thousand on their lumber, and each dollar counts 
 $1,000,000 on the whole lot. In_ other words, $1 per thousand 
 makes a million dollars on the estimated amount of their timber. 
 They will make $8,000,000 on a transaction that would have brok- 
 en 20 men without capital. The old saying that ''it takes money 
 to make money," is fully proved here. Another novelty in their 
 way of doing business will no doubt be interesting to many of my 
 readers. In their travels all over the United States they never 
 kept an expense account. The late Adna Ney hart, their brother- 
 in-law, the gentleman who first introduced the business of trans- 
 porting oil in tank cars, was a partner of the three Grandin brothers. 
 Neither of the quartette ever wasted ink and paper by keeping 
 track of travelling expenses when abroad. Each had perfect con- 
 fidence in all the others. 
 
 Now I will finish this article by a couple of allusions to a couple 
 of quite noted m_en. The first is ex-Senator James McMullen. 
 I'll teh you how he commenced his career in oildom. "Jim," as 
 he was familiarly called years ago, was quite an expert blacksmith 
 at Warren, Pa. When the great oil strikes set the whole country 
 nearly crazy Jim packed his kit of blacksmith tools and his house- 
 hold goods and made good time on a raft to Oil City. The author 
 of this book was at' that time second mate on a flat boat, 
 
THE GRANDINS AND J. B. WHITE 21 
 
 which was propelled by very much jaded horses up and down the 
 raging waters of Oil Creek. As there were no roads to speak of and 
 mud galore the early pioneers in oildom were only too glad to avail 
 themselves of this greasy mode of transportation. Jim McMullen 
 was among the number that piled their "fittin" on the bottom of 
 our greasy oil boat. We landed the goods safely, but not clean 
 enough to brag on, at McClintockville, where Jim had built a rude 
 blacksmith shop and dwelling house. About the first thing attend- 
 ed to was a house warming." Then the musical ability of the 
 second mate was brought into play. He, with the assistance of 
 ^f.,f .^^^^^ murderer, reeled off the "Opera Reel," "Monev 
 Musk, Crooked S,;' "Chase the Squirrel," and other scientific 
 ■ P^^^^T ^^^^^^ ^^\ ""^^^^ '°^S ^o^ *he lads and lassies of the then 
 busy McClintockville, while putting in their biggest licks in the 
 way of dancing "hoedowns." Music sailed around through the 
 air m that hemlock shanty in great chunks. Music from Cole- 
 man s orchestra would dwindle down into nothing compared to 
 ours. Well, all my Oil City readers will know that genuine 
 genius cannot be kept m a hemlock blacksmith shop and "Jim" 
 rose rapidly. ^ 
 
 The first time I had the pleasure of looking at "Johnny" Steele 
 was at Rouseville, after he had "blowed in" his million and a half 
 dollars. He was seated on a high spring seat of an oil wagon 
 /T# "i ^^"^^ ^^^"^ °^ ^°^'^^- The wagon was loaded with bar- 
 rels filled with crude oil. Johnny was complacently smoking a 
 cigar. At that time I was a correspondent of the Erie Morning 
 Dispatch I wrote him up. The item raised Johnny's "dander " 
 but iie clid not know who to vent his wrath upon. A few months 
 alter that Johnny was the trusted baggagemaster of the Oil Creek 
 railroad. One day Conductor "Pap" Richards said to me: "I 
 wish you would interview John and set him right in the Dispatch 
 mere are so many- exaggerated reports going the rounds of the 
 newspapers that he is terribly annoyed. Tell him that I sent you 
 5^" } ?f^^®^ ^P°^ *^^ baggagemaster, introduced myself 
 according to Conductor Richard's instructions. Johnny opened 
 up m dead earnest. His talk, as near as I can recollect, ran in this 
 wise: 1 will give you all the information that you ask, but it 
 
 makes me mad to see the d d fool reports in the papers. A 
 
 a—- -d tool wrote me up last spring in the Erie Dispatch. He 
 said 1 was hauling oil in a black greasy wagon, with a cigar in my 
 
 niouth and a lot of other fool trash. D n him, he was drunk 
 
 all the time he was here-if ever I get sight of him I'll trash him." 
 1 did not feel like teUmg^Johnny that I never was drunk in my life 
 
22 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 for the very good reason that I never took a drink of that which 
 intoxicates. So I let him remain in ignorance as to who the Dis- 
 patch correspondent was. And now, to make this article not too 
 lengthy, I will briefly give Steele's story: 
 
 "I will give you the correct statement for the Dispatch. The 
 newspapers throughout the country have been saying that I hired 
 a fine carriage in Philadelphia for a ride and when I returned to 
 my hotel I bought the whole outfit and presented it to the driver. 
 And on another occasion I rent.ed the Continental hotel for one 
 day — paying $10,000 as rental. The papers told too many other 
 foolish stories about me to repeat here. I will simply say that 
 these reports are all false. The cause of the disappaarance of my 
 fortune in so short a time was sharpers taking advantage of my 
 inexperience. They cleaned me out before I was aware of the fact. 
 (At this point in his recital Johnny gave the names of some of the 
 rogues that robbed him — I will omit their names.) After my 
 large fortune was gone I made a solemn resolve, in my own mind, 
 to be a frugal and industrious man the rest of my natural life. I 
 have kept this self-made promise, and during the past few years I 
 have paid for a home, paid for a team and outfit and I have a snug 
 little bank account. I intend to reclaim a small part of my lost 
 fortune and all of my good name." 
 
 While Mr. Steele was talking he impressed me favorably. His 
 whole demeanor showed very plainly that he was no ordinary man. 
 And his words and every action proved this. He was a faithful 
 and favorite employee of the Oil Creek railroad when it required a 
 good and competent man to attend to the business of baggage- 
 master at the then busy Rouseville depot. I was told that he had 
 secured a more lucrative and important situation on some western 
 railroad. There never was but one "Coal Oil Johnny" on the face 
 of the earth. Who ever heard of a young man getting away with 
 $1,500,000 in a couple of years, and then that same young man 
 settling down immediately to the hard, solid knocks of a poor man's 
 life and becoming an industrious, trusted model man of business 
 and integrity? "Coal Oil Johnny" is both a novelty and an enigma. 
 We may search the wide world over and we will not find his count- 
 erpart. Surely the "old times in oildom" developed some odd 
 characters. Further on in this series of chapters I will mention 
 more of them. 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 23 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 NARROW ESCAPE FROM BEING A BLOATED 
 BONDHOLDER. 
 
 I'll take a funny subject this time I'll take my own exper- 
 ience. I'll tell how I did not make sts^eral fortunes. The first 
 attempt was the leasing of about 3,000 acres of "dry territory." 
 I was at Oil City at the time the dry territory excitement started 
 north. When it reached Pleasantville I betook myself to my home 
 in Youngsville, Pa., where I began to lease far ahead of the tidal 
 wave. I wrote my contracts somewhat in this manner: "I agree 
 to sell my farm to G. W. Brown, of Youngsville, Pa., for so many 
 dollars per acre," and it was always a price quite low. (The land 
 was worth fully the amount named for farming purposes.) "Pro- 
 vided said Brown pays the amount within three months from date." 
 I picked up 3,000 acres within a couple of weeks, and rested on my 
 laurels and waited for the wave to come. It came, and soon leasers 
 were promising twice as much as I had promised for just as good 
 land. I had some good offers, but as my time was not near up, 
 and the price of dry territory was going up and up, I held on for the 
 highest notch. I finally had an offer by which I could pocket a 
 profit of about $40,000. I concluded to strike while the iron was 
 hot; but the iron did not stay hot quite long enough. I'll tell why. 
 When I made the sale, I found that I must locate each separate 
 lot on the Warren County map. I had about ten days to drive 
 around and make my locations. During these ten days, Sherman 
 took Atlanta, and capitalists made up their minds that greenbacks 
 were better than dry "territory," and the bottom fell out of this 
 kind of business. I paid a big price for learning that "a bird in the 
 hand is worth two in the bush." 
 
 My second lesson was somewhat connected with the first. While 
 contracting the 3,000 acres of land, spoken of above, my good old 
 friend, Alden Marsh, came to me and said; "George, let me put my 
 100 acres of pine land into your deal. I will let you have an option 
 on it for $1,600." As this land was worth double this amount, I 
 wrote a contract immediately. A month later Mr. Marsh came to 
 me with another remark, which ran in this wise: "George, I let you 
 have the option on my land too soon. Now, I will tell you what 
 I will do. I will give you 100 acres in Cherry Grove. It did not 
 cost me much. I bid it in at a few cents an acre for taxes due, and 
 it is not worth anything. I will give it to you if you will give up my 
 
24 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 contract for the 100 acres of pine land." Mr. Marsh bless his — 
 memory — being mj^ best friend in a business way, had only to ask 
 this favor to get it. And now I will tell you where the trouble came 
 in. I thought, with Mr. Marsh, that the Cherry Grove land was 
 worth nothing, and did not take the trouble to get a deed made out. 
 Years after Mr. Marsh died and about that time the oil excitement 
 began to creep toward Cherry Grove. Then it was that I asked 
 Mr. Marsh's widow about this land of mine. Of course, Mrs. 
 Marsh knew nothing whatever about this very careless land trade, 
 and had sold the land for $3 an acre. Not very long after this, the 
 great ''mystery," or ''646," was struck, and upon close inquiry I 
 found that the great well was located less than a half mile from my 
 100 acres. And the 100 acres that I didn't own was worth about 
 $50,000 in the market. This time I paid a big price for my neg- 
 ligence. 
 
 Now comes another close call. A short time before Edenburg 
 became a great oil town, a citizen of rather shaky repute, living 
 near the old hamlet, discovered large quantities of white mica on 
 his land. He soon took into collusion with him a man living near 
 Youngsville, Pa., and samples of "melted silver" were exhibited 
 about Youngsville and vicinity. Men who had accumulated 
 money by shrewdness and good investments, grabbed at this bait 
 voraciously and paid big bonuses for leases in this silver belt. 
 After several thousand dollars had been invested by Youngsville 
 citizens, Chapin Siggins (an old California miner,) D. Mead and 
 myself made a visit to this new Eldorado. It was a two-day jaunt, 
 on horseback, under a broiling sun. When we reached the neigh- 
 borhood of the "mines" we boarded for a day or two with an old 
 farmer, who charged us the princely sum of six cents a meal, and 
 six cents a feed for our horses.' As we expected to soon make a 
 great fortune in silver mines, we did not kick at this "extortion." 
 Our California expert soon pronounced this shining silver white 
 mica. As we were then in the confines of Clarion county, and as 
 the weather was too hot for comfortable traveling, and as our 
 finances seemed to be ample to pay our "bed and board," we con- 
 cluded to rusticate a day or two. Before leaving this enchanted 
 spot where fortunes had not been made and lost, but simply lost, 
 our silver company took an option on 100 acres of quite good farm- 
 land. We paid a large amount down "to bind the contract." This 
 sum was one dollar, cash. This contract was gotten up in fun, and 
 ran quite a long time. It read, that if we paid $4,000 within two 
 years, the farm was ours. Here is just where the fun did not come 
 In. If we had made the time four years (which we could have 
 
THE LUMBER BUSINESS IN PARKER CITY 25 
 
 done, with the full consent of the owner,) we would have had an 
 option on a $100,000 farm, for $4,000. This same farm was one 
 of the best in the Edenburg oil field. When the Edenburg oil ex- 
 citement was at its height our silver syndicate was not sure of the 
 time of our option, and hastened to look up the contract, not 
 knowing at that time whether our contract ran one or ten years. 
 We found the limit about six months short at one end. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LUMBER BUSINESS IN PARKER CITY. 
 
 In this ninth chapter I will give a little attention to the once 
 famous Parked City. 
 
 When this oil town was just getting a good start, your humble 
 author was crossing the Allegheny river on the old chain 
 ferry, owned by McLaughlin and FuUerton. And right here let 
 me say that each of those men made a nice little fortune before the 
 Iron bridge was built spanning the river at that point, and connect- 
 ing Clarion and Armstrong counties by this old ferry. Day and 
 night, it was loaded with teams and passengers. 
 
 I heard "Jim" Lambing say: "My, I wish I knew where I 
 could get two carloads of lumber." I offered to deliver the lumber 
 within three days. Mr. Lambing was delighted with my offer, and 
 thus I commenced quite an extensive lumber business. When the 
 two loads were delivered to Mr. L., (Mr. Lambing was afterwards 
 mayor of the city of Corry, Pa.) , I contracted to deliver two car- 
 loads more to another party. When this last lot reached Parker 
 City I found that my man was not a "gilt-edged" operator, and I 
 refused to let him have the lumber without the "cash down." He 
 failed to come to time, and I left the lumber with "Doc" Harmon, 
 to be sold by him, he to have half the profits for his trouble. Doc 
 then began to fire orders at me as fast as I could fill them. Then 
 a base of operations became necessary and I leased a few square 
 rods of swamp land of "Old FuUerton Parker," as he was familiarly 
 called, paying $600 a year rental. After renting the ground I was 
 obliged to haul in about 100 loads of gravel before I could pile 
 lumber on the soft land. Then an office appeared on the scene, 
 and G. W. Brown ran the first lumber yard in the greasy city of 
 Parker. For about two years my luck was the very best. I had 
 for customers the best operators in the (then) new field.. They 
 
26 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 paid their bills at the end of each month. But "it's a long lane 
 that has no turn." If any man did owe me during the first two 
 years of my yard business in Parker's Landing, and happened to 
 go into bankruptcy, he had just paid me off in full. This was 
 rather a pleasant experience for me. But the trouble came in the 
 turn of the lane. At the end of two years, when my individual 
 profits had been about $15,000, oil took a downward plunge, and 
 fell from about $3 a barrel to about 60 cents. Then it was that my 
 heretofore good customers went into bankruptcy by the dozen, 
 and I was kept busy for a few months going to Pittsburg to adjust 
 claims with the register in bankruptcy. I became quite well ac- 
 quainted with this genial gentleman. And this genial gentleman 
 made more money out of this kind of business than I did. In the 
 end I found that I had been throwing good money after poor money 
 I never received one dollar on my adjusted claims. I learned that 
 when a Parker City oil operator went into bankruptcy he went in 
 to stay. What money he had in his pockets when the crash came, 
 stayed there. I never heard of an assignee, register in bankruptcy, 
 or any other officer of the law getting his hands on any of it. The 
 creditor always paid his own railroad fare, hotel bills, and register's 
 bills without aid from the debtor. The debtor generally started a 
 little business of his own, as soon as he got his discharge from all 
 his former obligations. This was my experience, at least, and I 
 have yet to hear of a creditor who came out any better than I did. 
 "Old Times in Oildom" were indeed slippery times. Of about 40 
 lumber yard men, who ran lumber yards in these "old times" but 
 two, to my knowledge, came out unscathed. 
 
 I'll give a couple of items now to prove the " slippery ness" of 
 these times. One of my customers at that time, a carpenter, im- 
 bued with the spirit of the times, took the job of building an addi- 
 tion to the Phillips hotel, owned by James E. Brown, the million- 
 aire of Kittanning. The thrifty carpenter gave me the privilege 
 of furnishing all the lumber for this addition, amounting to about 
 $800. When the job was finished, said carpenter collected the 
 money from James E. Brown for the whole job and forgot to pay 
 G. W. Brown for the lumber. 
 
 My only hold was to take a mechanic's lien on the building for 
 my claim. I employed a young lawyer, of Parker City, whose 
 mind — at that time — was pretty well taken up in writing a novel, 
 entitled "Platonic Love," to attend to the legal part of the tran- 
 saction. This young lawyer wrote out a lien, and left out the 
 township, county, state, and the United States from the document. 
 The young lawyer engaged an old lawyer, of standing, in Clarion, 
 
THE LUMBER BUSINESS IN PARKER GITY 27 
 
 to help him along with the case. The old member of the Clarion 
 bar, copied the lien, and added nothing to it. He did not commit 
 and sin of "commission," but, with his young colleague, f'commit- 
 ted the sin of ommission." When the week of the court came 
 around, I took a wagon load of witnesses to Clarion, to prove that 
 the lumber all went into the Phillips house improvement, and 
 boarded them at the "Jones House" all week, and when Saturday 
 came my suit was put over until the next term of court. When 
 the next court came I had my wagon load of witnesses back,for 
 another week's visit in the stilly streets of the sacred precincts of 
 the old fashioned town of Clarion. After each witness helpmg 
 himself to well cooked viands spread out before him on Jones' table 
 for a week, my suit came on Saturday. It required less than half 
 a day to prove my claim all right, but after my brilliant lawyers 
 had made a strong speech in my. favor, the opposing lawyer— Judge 
 Campbell— arose in his majesty and pointed out the fact to my 
 lawyers that they had presented a blank to the august court. Judge 
 Jenks took the case from the jury before they left the box and they 
 were deprived of their little visit in the jury room. My old 
 Clarion lawyer jumped to his feet (said feet had been resting on a 
 writing table) and applied for a new trial. The judge promptly 
 refused and that was the last of that lumber bill. I suppose the 
 judge thought a lien that failed to state whether the hotel was lo- 
 cated in England, America, or any other place, was not worthy of 
 his attention. I learned one fact, though not worth $800 and other 
 expenses, by this experience, and it is this: That I, as a Warren 
 county man, failed to cope with Clarion county lawyers and judges. 
 My second item is one showing luck, and no luck. One Saturday 
 evening I took the paltry sum of $2,000 insurance on my lumber 
 yard, worth about $7,000. Sunday about half of the city burned, 
 taking iil my lumber yard. When the news was telegraphed to 
 me Monday morning, to my Youngsville home, I thought I had 
 been lucky in getting the $2,000 insurance placed before the fire 
 took place— but now comes the sequel. The company failed to 
 come to time, and I got a tip from a reliable fire insurance agent 
 that my company was a little "shaky." Then I hied me away to 
 Philadelphia, the headquarters of the concern, where I found the 
 president of the company, and after parleying for half a day, I 
 received $540, which I considered a good thing for a company to do 
 that would not be slated by the commissioner of insurance, who 
 considered the company insolvent. Some people think there is no 
 place of punishment after death. I am not going to argue that 
 question, but simply say that it is my belief, and hope, that there 
 
28 [OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 is some place, for some folks, called in the Bible — hell. I'll give 
 my readers one of my reasons for thinking so. A man, (I will not 
 say a gentleman), had just finished a new hotel, before this fire 
 spoken of here. He owed me $400 for windows, doors, etc., used 
 in the construction of his hotel. He had SI, 800 insurance on the 
 building. I had a lien on the hotel and if the fire had held off one 
 day the hotel would have been sold to satisfy the claim (if not in 
 the meantime)-. But the fire settled the lien business. Then the 
 man told me that he would certainly pay me when he received his 
 $1,800 insurance. I saw him a short time afterwards, and he told 
 me that he had received his insurance money, but had invested it 
 in junk, and that he would have returns in one month. He asked 
 me to draw on him at the expiration of one month for $50. I did 
 so with not the least expectation of having the draft honored and in 
 a few days the draft came to the Youngsville Savings Bank, with 
 these words written on the back: "Give Brown my love, and 
 tell him to draw again." As I had, in the meantime, learned this 
 man had smuggled his property out of his hands, I pocketed both 
 the insult and loss. Now, dear reader, do you wonder that I de- 
 sire a place of future punishment. Many, many men like this 
 were inhabitants of the oil regions, and helped to make "old 
 times in oildom" miserable. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOHN GALEY AND THE ROBINSONS. 
 
 A few items from the book of memory concerning "down at 
 Parker" will help to make up this tenth article. 
 
 When the lumber business had become a little slow on Oil Creek 
 the author of this book transferred his rambling tread to the busy, 
 busy precincts of Parker's Landing. There the oil business 
 brought together a most motely crowd. No oil town produced a 
 more mixed crowd. No oil town produced so many rich oil farm- 
 ers as did Parker. The Parkers, Robinsons, Foxes, and scores 
 upon scores of families were rich enough to live without oil but 
 when the oleaginous wealth was forced upon them they very meek- 
 ly accepted it. Among the richest, both after and before striking 
 oil, were the Robinsons. There were three brothers, and each had 
 a good, large farm, and every acre was good oil territory. The 
 piling of riches on these good natured and contented men did not 
 
JOHN GALEY AND THE ROBINSONS 29 
 
 set them up above poor folks. They always dressed well and had 
 a gentlemanly air about them not often found among ordinary 
 farmers, and the striking of dozens of big wells on their farms, 
 when oil was worth $3.00 a barrel, made not the least difference in 
 their dress and actions. It was always a comfort for the author 
 to visit with any of the brothers, before and after the finding of oil 
 on their farms. Nearly everybody has their hobby, and one of 
 these brothers had this for his hobby. When he bought lumber 
 of me he paid at the end of every month just as regular as the end 
 of the month came. But the odd cents on the bill he would never 
 pay. If the bill was $500.01 he would pay $500, and if the bill was 
 $1.99 he would pay $1. He always drew the line on cents. He 
 would never pay only even dollars, but would never find any fault 
 with any bill, either large or small. He was one of my best cus- 
 tomers while I kept a lumber yard at Parker City. While operat- 
 ing his large oil farm his monthly lumber bills ran very high, and 
 in my four years' business I never was obliged to present a bill for 
 payment. On the first day of each month he would call for his 
 bill and write his check for even dollars. If all my customers in 
 Parker had been Robinsons I would have been just about $10,000 
 ahead when I quit the lumber yard business. What a blessed 
 world this would be if all the people were Robinsons. 
 
 John H. Galey was one of the many business men of Parker^at 
 the time I speak of. John's history from that time to the present 
 IS well worth a brief mention. He was an active boy, as the run of 
 boys go, generally. He had his eyes open for some kind of an oil 
 trade. For a while he did not have his mind made up as to what 
 kind of a trade it would be. Finally an operator put a well down 
 on Stump Creek island, a mile above Parker. The operator struck 
 a very good paying well and offered the island to Galey for $10,000. 
 John thought the matter over and made up his mind that $10,000 
 and more than that amount, could be pumped from that well, but 
 to use his own words:"I had not the $10,000, but went to Pitts- 
 burg and borrowed it and paid for the property, and I have taken 
 from that and another well which I put down on the same island 
 $125,000, and I have run the wells only 18 months. They are pro- 
 ducing nearly as much as ever and they make a nice httle property. 
 John went on making money hand over hand for a time, then he 
 went far toward the setting sun and built a large, thriving town. 
 One da>, when he was away on business, the Indians came and 
 wiped out his town. But John Galey was not the man to sit down 
 and mourn over the loss of his wealth. The next time I heard of 
 him he plunged into the wilderness at Haymaker, McKean county 
 
30 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Pa., and leased a large amount of land farther north than any oil 
 conipany had thought of going. He took that well known and 
 moneyed firm, the McKinney Bros., into the deal with him, and 
 ere long Galey was sailing over financial seas as gaily as ever before. 
 The next time I met John was several years afterwards at one of 
 his boarding houses, or houses where he boarded, near Oakdale, 
 Pa. This is the very strange story he told me on that occasion: 
 "I came to McDonald a couple of years ago to lease gas territory 
 for Guffey, Galey & Co. No oil had been found in this section at 
 that time. But thinking that this was gas territory I commenced 
 at McDonald and made leases along this ridge for a distance of 
 nearly three miles. Our strip is a little over a mile wide, on an 
 average. Now every a'cre of it is the best oil territory in the Mc- 
 Donald field. I happened to keep right on the belt as near as if I 
 had known just where the oil lay. A little side belt struck us oc- 
 scasionally but run out just as soon as it crossed us. We have the 
 largest wells in this field, one of them producing 16,000 barrels a 
 day when first struck(this is the old Matthews well.) One flowed 
 30,000 barrels before we could control it. The oil rushed down the 
 creek through Nobletown, but luckily did not take fire. It is the 
 most strange thing to me imaginable to think how I followed this 
 belt so far, and then stopped at the end of it, when I was leasing 
 gas territory with no thoughts of oil. I cannot but think it almost 
 a miracle." 
 
 I'll give a few more items concerning the once famous Parker 
 territory in chapter 11. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PARKER CITY. 
 
 I take for my subject, in this eleventh chapter, Parker City. Who 
 has not heard of Parker City? Certainly every oil man has become 
 familiar with the name. 
 
 This little city is one of the "has beens." It never will be the 
 great oil centre that it once was, but it might have been one of the 
 best of its size in Western Pennsylvania, if not for the short sight- 
 edness of the original landholders. This remark applies particu- 
 larly to "the flats," or First Ward. 
 
 When Mr. Fullerton Parker began to rent his land holdings along 
 the river front, the oil business was so great that he could get nearly 
 
PARKER CITY 31 
 
 any price he put on it as rental. If one man did not give $10 a foot 
 front as rent per year, another man would, and Mr. Parker did 
 just what most any other man would in the same situation — put 
 on a big price per year. He could get it, and it was worth a big 
 price. His mistake was in not selling the lots and letting some- 
 body beside himself pay part of the city taxes. This plan would 
 have tied many business men to the young city, and they would 
 have been residents to-day, instead of helping boom some other 
 city. The selling of the lots would have been the best plan, as, 
 with the united efforts of the many owners, the city would have had 
 a steady growth, thereby gradually increasing the value of city 
 property. 
 
 This is no guess work. All travelers know that large towns are 
 not found in bunches. As the traveler passes through the country 
 at intervals of 40 or 50 miles, he sees large towns. The shadow of 
 a large town keeps the little towns weak and spindhng. A little 
 town don't grow much with a large town just close by to take all 
 the trade away from the small town. This is one of the uncontra- 
 dicted facts. Kittaning is far enough down the river and Franklin 
 is far enough up the river to give Parker City an open field. No 
 shadows from any direction would dwarf the growth of "pretty 
 little Parker City," with its magnificent view of the swift running 
 old Allegheny. Coal, oil, gas, timber and good soil are found all 
 around the city. What more could be desired in the way of build- 
 ing up a large city ? It is a fact, known to every Parkerite, that 
 when rents were up to fever pitch and business booming, there was 
 no grumbling, but when business began to adjust itself to the de- 
 creasing output of the oil wells of the vicinity, rents were not ad- 
 justed. 
 
 The author speaks from personal experience. He paid 
 $600 a year rent, for several years, on a few rods square of swamp 
 land, as a spot to pile lumber on. The land was made usable by 
 said author hauling many loads of gravel into the swamp. 
 By the application of this gravel, the land was made firm enough 
 to hold up lumber. This expense was borne by the renter. But, 
 as I said before, Mr. Parker was not considered an extortioner at 
 this time, as he could get the high rent from other parties, if your 
 scribe had not frozen to the lot. But the trouble came when busi- 
 ness fell off nine-tenths, and your humble servant plucked up cour- 
 age enough to approach W. C. Mobley, the superintendent and son- 
 in-law of Mr. Parker, and asked him, in view of the fact that the 
 profits on sales of lumber would not pay the rent, to lower the rent 
 a trifle. Mr. Mobley's answer was, "Not a cent." The result is 
 
32 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 easy to see. The lumber yard was obliged to close out bu^ness. 
 
 This was the case with many other branches of business. In- 
 stead of the motto being carried out, "Live and Let Live," thereby 
 holding the population, the motto, ''Die and Let Die," was carried 
 out, and Parker City missed its great opportunity. I'll mention a 
 few points that will not be new to the old residents of the city. 
 
 Before the bridge was built, John McLaughlin and 'Squire Ful- 
 lerton bought a chain ferry, paying $8,000. It paid for itself in a 
 few months, and made a handsome fortune for the firm before the 
 bridge took away their business. But with business foresight, 
 McLaughlin and FuUerton took a good slice of the bridge stock, 
 and again piled up money. 'Squire Fullerton is now dead, but his 
 widow lives on the "Bluff," where she can overlook the place of her 
 late husband's victories. John McLaughlin built the Globe hotel 
 and conducted it for several years, then sold it to his two sons, 
 George and Will. Their father is connected with the natural gas 
 business and lives at Murraysville, Pa. 
 
 Who of the old operators but knew Fin Frisbee. "Fin" together 
 with "Doc" Book, built the Central hotel. Oh, but that hotel did 
 a great business. Just one little incident will prove this. I was 
 a lodger one night, and by the noise below my slumbering place, I 
 took it that the bar was doing quite a business. As I was used to 
 noise, it did not deprive me of "nature's sweet restorer" — sleep. 
 But "Curt" McKinney of Titusville, did not fare so well. I stood 
 in the office the next morning after the noise, when "Curt," (as he 
 was called then, but now he is called Mr. McKinney) , came down 
 stairs and approached "Fin," who stood in the office, wearing one 
 of his contented smiles, and addressed him in this manner: "Mr. 
 Frisbee, if you allow so much noise about your bar every night, as 
 you did last night, I will not stop over night with you again." 
 "Curt" said this with his usual earnestness. "Fin" looked up very 
 much unconcerned, and replied: "I took in at the bar last night 
 $500. I will not trade a noisy $500 at the bar for a quiet 70-cent 
 lodging," Poor Frisbee. After becoming proprietor of the great 
 Kent House at Lakewood, he sold out, and removed to Duluth, 
 where he added very materially to his wealth, and bid a long fare- 
 well to his dollars and crossed over the river of death, to try an un- 
 known existence. If there are no hotels to be run in that other 
 life, "Fin" will be unhappy. 
 
 I met Elisha Robinson on the street this morning. He is the 
 same unassuming man of money that he was when his oil wells were 
 forcing him to go to Pittsburg every few days to deposit his piles of 
 cash. He is the same true Christian gentleman yet that he was 
 
OIL CITY SIXTY YEARS AGO 33 
 
 when, 33 years ago, he would come as regular as a clock into my 
 lumber office to pay his bills. If all my customers had been Elisha 
 Robinsons I would have $10,000 more money to-day than I have. 
 And his brother, "Sam," still clings to this terrestrial ball, which 
 means that another good, honest, rich man still lives. Both broth- 
 ers are tilling the soil, the same as before that same soil poured 
 forth rivers of oil. Elisha has his affections fixed, this spring, on 
 a piece of hoarded land that he will clear up this coming summer 
 and put in a state of cultivation. 
 
 Fullerton Parker, who was monarch of all he surveyed in this 
 city in its palmy day, has, with many other pioneers, been gathered 
 "to his fathers," but his mansion on the "Bluff," still overlooks the 
 city which bears his name. There are Parkers and Parkers here 
 yet, but they are not of the old settlers. There is one in Oil City 
 (William Parker, who is remembered here as the owner of the old 
 "Rob Roy " well at Karns City, which produced nearly 150,000 
 barrels of oil and put nearly as many dollars into the pockets of its 
 owner.) There were very few "Rob Roys." None ever came and 
 stopped with me. The "Rob Roy" spoken of above, gave Oil City 
 an ornament, in the great brick mansion of "Bill" Parker. It is 
 lucky fornoted Oil City that such men as Mr. Parker gravitated in 
 its direction, when they became too rich to stay anywhere else. 
 
 And now, let me close this article by sa5dng that if Parker is not 
 the Parker of old it bears unmistakable signs of former prosperity 
 in its five good churches, fine brick school building, water works, 
 bank and many substantial buildings that were paid for when 
 money was no object. For this and many other blessings the 
 Parker of to-day has reason to be thankful. So mote it be. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OIL CITY SIXTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 Talk about old times! Why, the inhabitants, the younger ones, 
 know very Httle of the growth, from the beginning, to the present. 
 I was born within 10 miles of the Drake well, or the first well drilled 
 80 years ago, in Centerville, Crawford county. Pa., and had the 
 pleasure of seeing its production for the first two days, and the 
 same with the second well, right across the creek from the Drake 
 well, on the John A^^atson farm. This second well, known as the 
 Williams well, made much more of a splurge than the Drake weU. 
 
34 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 It sent the oily fluid many feet skyward, with a vim which the 
 natives of this corner of God's footstool never dreamed of. The 
 natives, your humble servant not excepted, were nearly dumb. 
 The inhabitants of that period had never seen oil in all its glory 
 before. The inhabitants along oil creek had smelled it, inasmuch 
 as a few drops of it would occasionally ooze through the ground. 
 I, myself, at that time lived here at Youngsville, Warren county, 
 Pa., on the banks of the Brokenstraw creek. For many years, 
 before the time of striking the first oil well, I had made trips down 
 the Allegheny river, on lumber rafts, nearly every time the water 
 came to a rafting stage. Always when passing the mouth of Oil 
 Creek, a strong ''Seneca oil" smell came floating on the air. That 
 was all there was to it — just a smell. Compare that smell with 
 the present oil business, if you can. I leave it to any living man or 
 woman to make the comparison. I will not attempt it. 
 
 Oil City, at that time, consisted of a grist mill, hotel, one little 
 store and two dwelling houses. The hotel was the most preten- 
 tious building of the town. It lacked "a, small trifle" of being a 
 mate to the Arlington of to-day, in size and equipment, but bore 
 the same name of the "best hotel" in town. The old, and indeed 
 most of the young inhabitants of the "Hub of Oildom," have seen 
 the old Moran house, at the lower end of the city. That one hotel 
 was the real money-maker of the town. When a good rafting 
 stage was on, the man that got a good bed to sleep in had to be on 
 hand early in the afternoon, as quite a while before dark the Al- 
 legheny fleets — or rafts — would begin to tie up for the night, in 
 Oil Creek eddy. Before dark the river would be filled nearly to 
 the opposite shore with rafts from almost every place on the Al- 
 legheny river from Oil City to Coudersport. The main points from 
 which these rafts came were Tionesta, Irvineton, Warren, James- 
 town, N. Y., Kinzua, Pa., Corydon, Pa., Salamanca, N. Y., Tun- 
 ingwant, Pa., Olean, N. Y., Port Alleghany, Pa., and Couders- 
 port, Pa. The reader will see that the Keystone and Empire 
 states divided the honor of furnishing this great river trade. This 
 was caused by the river starting in Pennsylvania, and straying off 
 into the state of New York, but finding the Yankees no better than 
 the Dutch Pennsylvanians, the waters strayed back into the parent 
 state, and comminghng with the waters of the Monongahela, slowly 
 and peacefully wendedtheir way through the slave country of the 
 south, to the sea. 
 
 Speaking of rivers, let me say, fearing it may shp from my mem- 
 ory, that years ago I sat in the office of a hotel, on Keating Summit 
 Potter county. Pa., and gazed on the drops of rain faUing on one 
 
OIL GITY SIXTY YEARS AGO 35 
 
 inch of ground, where it divided, a part going into the Atlantic and 
 a part into the Gulf of Mexico. The question in my mind was, 
 which part will reach the salt water first ? But I am getting off 
 the subject of "Old Times in Oildom." To make it plain to the 
 readers of this article, I will say that the old Moran house was not 
 supposed to hold all the hardy men that manned the oars which 
 guided this large number of rafts. The "hands" which did 
 the work at the end of those oar stems, generally rested after their 
 hard day's work, in a raft shanty, which was anything but a shield 
 against rain and snow, being constructed of green boards, roof and 
 all. This shanty was built for but a short period of service. Only 
 for a place, for perhaps a dozen men to sleep in, for a week or two, 
 according to the distance floated. There was one man to watch 
 the raft until sold and delivered. Only the owner of the raft and 
 the pilot indulged in the luxury of a bed in the far-famed Moran 
 hotel. Sometimes a "hand'" leaning a little toward dudishness, 
 would mix in with the above named owners and pilots, and invest 
 a quarter of a dollar in a "downy" bed. I don't speak from ex- 
 perience regarding "downy beds," because in my youthful days, I 
 considered myself as belonging to "the Brotherhood of man," and 
 I always slept, spoon fashion, in a board bunk, partly filled with 
 straw, in the shanty. 
 
 Before leaving this subject, I wish to mention the fact, that old- 
 time raftsmen seemed to be of the old fogy class, in regard to in- 
 ventions. Speaking within reasonable bounds, the lumber men of 
 the days gone by, for 50 years at least, practiced the most foolish 
 methods of landing their rafts. As the evening began to appear, 
 the raft was rowed into the first eddy approached, and tied to a 
 nearby tree or stump, or anything that would hold the raft quietly 
 until morning, and until the "hands" had got out from the straw, 
 in the shanty bunks, and appeased their keen appetites on po- 
 tatoes, meat, generally salt pork, and bread. Then the pilot 
 would exclaim in a sort of commanding voice, "untie that cable," 
 and away Pittsburgward would go the raft and crew. 
 
 And now comes in the foolishness, practiced for a half century. 
 The rope or cable used for tying up the raft was from one and one- 
 half inches to two inches in diameter, perhaps from 100 to 300 feet 
 long. The raft was pulled to the shore and a strong hand would 
 pick up that tremendously heavy rope, which lay coiled up like a 
 great anaconda, and would struggle up a generally steep bank, 
 run to the nearest tree with all of the rope that had not been pulled 
 away from him by the downward movement of the raft. One end 
 of the rope was tied tight to the raft. By the time that the out-of- 
 
36 OLD TIMES]IN OILDOM. 
 
 breath'man on shore could get a good "half-hitch" on that tree, 
 two-thirds or more of the rope was usually dragging in the water. 
 Then the man ashore would let go of the cable, and a man on the 
 raft would pull it on to the raft, and throw one end to the man on 
 shore and the same foolish work would be repeated over and over 
 until all hands were completely exhausted, and the lower end of 
 the eddy reached, if the eddy was long enough. But manj- times, 
 in a short eddy, the raft defied all efforts to land it, and it ploughed 
 the water all night. 
 
 After about a half century of this kind of work, the so-called 
 "Kendulltuckyans" taught the so-called sharp Yankees how to 
 land a raft. Those Kentuckians would take a ] ,000 foot inch and 
 a half rope, and coil it up on the rear end of their acre raft of logs, 
 put in a snubbing post, near the rope, and when they wished to 
 land, they would paddle the raft ashore with their great long oars; 
 then one of the "hands" would jump ashore, and the man on the 
 raft would quietly hand him one end of that light, long rope. The 
 man ashore would then take a "half -hitch", and sit down and hold 
 onto the end of the rope until the raft was stopped. Many times 
 not half the rope was used at the first hitch. After the "lapse of 
 years," the "Yanks" caught on and we have enjoyed the work of 
 landing lumber rafts ever since. Why, it is one of the wonders of 
 the world that those early day raftsmen did not discover this sim- 
 ple, easy way of landing a swift running raft. The shover of this 
 pencil belonged to those slow learners. The first time I ever saw 
 the new way of landing, I took the lesson from my Kentucky 
 brother raftsman. At that time I saw those men land about one 
 acre of logs at the first hitch, on the Ohio river. 
 
 Of course I am talking about almost a thing of the past. But 
 little lumber has been rafted to the markets since the "iron horse" 
 made his appearance. Of course, said iron horse don't reach 
 every lumber mill in the country even now, and once in a while 
 when he fails to make his appearance, the water transportation 
 takes his place. 
 
JACK McCRAY 37 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JACK McGRAY. 
 
 I'll commence my 13th article by saying a few words about 
 "Jack" McCray, one of the pioneers of the oil country. He owned 
 a farm, the south line of which came within a few rods of the 
 Drake well. When the Drake well was struck, leasers came to 
 him by the dozen. His was a large farm, lying between the John 
 Watson farm and the Drake well. "Jack" laid out his land in 
 acre leases, on which he charged $100 bonus and a royalty of one- 
 fourth the oil. The writer of this secured two of these leases at 
 these figures, and soon found himself out of pocket $200. As the 
 wells were kicked down by the aid of a spring pole those days, 
 there were more leasers than operators. Many more men planked 
 down their money and signed contracts than put down wells. After 
 many weeks of kicking by stalwart men, dry holes would turn up 
 in disagreeable numbers, discouraging the many would-be operat- 
 ors, myself among the number, and in the course of time, "Jack" 
 had more copies of leases than interests in oil wells. The oil belt 
 seemed to follow oil creek down toward the "mouth of the creek," 
 instead of going up Pine Creek, over McCray's land, as the old wells 
 of Captain Funk, Noble & Delamater, Phillips and many others 
 testified, But "Jack," with his bonus in his pocket, became the 
 owner of the famous McCray hotel, where speculators from the 
 east, west, north and south, were wont to assemble to talk over 
 what was a business at that time, to them, of an unknown quan- 
 tity. "Jack" was soon known all over this country by his attempt 
 at a laugh composed of two syllables — or the same sound given 
 twice — "Cha-cha." The two sounds came often, as he was of a 
 very Jovial disposition. No one, either by seeing or hearing, 
 would know that this noise was meant for a laugh, as not a muscle 
 of his face moved. Yet these indiscribable sounds did duty as a 
 sign of merriment on his part. "'I 
 
 "Jack" kept spanking good race horses and driving teams, and 
 made the most of life for many years, then struck into the wilds of 
 Forest county, as general manager of a large lumber company and 
 pioneered the pine lumber business for many, many years. He 
 "grew up with the country." He was elected and served one term 
 as associate judge of the Forest County court. His name will be 
 handed down to all future'^geneiiations. During his residence in 
 this wild county of Forest, a postoffice which was located in his 
 
38 . OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 township, which is named McCray, and when the B. & 0. railroad 
 was built, the station was named McCray in honor of the judge. 
 When all the nice timber was cut into lumber and shipped away 
 from his jurisdiction, it became too quiet for a man of his ambition 
 and he hied himself back to his old stamping grounds — Titusville — 
 and soon bid farewell to all mundane things, and crossed over the 
 unknown river where, perhaps, there are no oil wells or lumber 
 mills. 
 
 Pithole comes vividly to my mind just now. My first visit to 
 this mushroom city was an experience. I found a daily newspaper, 
 railroad, telegraph office, opera house, many hotels and boarding 
 houses and everything that goes to make a modern city. The 
 people of the village said the population was about 25,000. I did 
 not believe it then and I do not believe it now. But there was a 
 "right smart" of people there for a three months old city in the 
 woods. I put up at the most tony hotel in the city, and had water 
 biscuits, half baked, for supper. Although I registered about 
 3 o'clock p. m., all the beds were engaged for the night. But the 
 obliging clerk told me he would provide a place for me to sleep. 
 When bed time came this smiling clerk took a lantern, and by its 
 dim light, I was led to the barn and handed a blanket, by the said 
 clerk, who told me to "climb that ladder" and I would find plenty 
 of hay at the top of the mow to make a bed of. I did as directed 
 and about 40 feet skyward I found plenty of hay, and also men 
 that had perceeded me to the roosting place as patrons of this 
 hotel. I found a vacant place among the snoring crowd. Mingled 
 with the unmistakable smell of bad whiskey. But morning came 
 at last, and also a dose of the hot biscuit. When the bill was paid 
 I found the modest charge of $1.00 for each meal and 75 cents for 
 lodging. After breakfast I hired a little bunty saddle horse, to 
 ride to McCrea's Landing— four miles distant. When I returned 
 the obliging liveryman charged me only $5 for the use of the little 
 animal, about three hours. There was never but one Pithole. 
 Just think of a six-foot guage railroad being built four miles to 
 Oleopolis and then dismantled in a few short months. The last 
 time that I passed through Pithole I saw but two occupied houses. 
 As that was 20 years ago, it is dollars to cents, if there is one house 
 there now. In the palmy days of Pithole considerable oil was put 
 in barrels and towed up the river to the P. & E. raiload at Irvineton. 
 
 I loaded a boat with shingles for the mouth of Pithole creek and 
 accompanied the crew of five down to the place of delivery. After 
 we got the shingles off the boat was loaded with barrels of oil. The 
 five men rolled barrels nearly all day. Two young coopers were 
 
JACK McGRAY 39 
 
 tightening the hoops on the barrels on shore. The five brawny 
 boatmen kept nagging the coopers and poking fun at them all day. 
 One was an Irishman and the other a Dutchman. I stood on the 
 high bank of the river late in the afternoon. I heard the young 
 Irishman say, "You have made fun of us all day and now we are 
 going to pay you for it." With this exclamation on his hps, both 
 coopers jumped and ran onto the boat and in five minutes the two 
 coopers had five big boatmen badly whipped. Two of them ran, 
 but they were soon overtaken and knocked down. A part of the 
 boatmen called themselves great fighters before the coopers got 
 their "dander up." We did not hear anything more about pugil- 
 istic achievements after this battle. The boatmen did not dare to 
 let their boat lie at the landing that night, but hitched on their 
 horses and towed it two miles up the river and spent the night out 
 of range of the coopers. All this was an object lesson — showing 
 what can be done by courage, displayed by the weaker party. And 
 this reminds me of a similar case that came under my observation 
 at Reno, at the time General Burnside was building his railroad 
 over the hills and through the valleys to Plumer. The railroad 
 workers were gathered in a crowd at the junction of the wildcat 
 road with the junction of the Atlantic & Great Western road. A 
 lively discussion arose on some question among them and one stal- 
 wart young Irishman took it into his head to whip the whole crowd, 
 and he did just what he undertook to do. He just walked around 
 among those laborers and knocked down every one that came 
 within reach of him. After this general knockdown business had 
 gone about five minutes, the boss, a big finely developed man, be- 
 longing to the same country of the fighter, with a big plug hat on, 
 stepped up to the pugilistic gentleman and commanded him to 
 desist from his dangerous pastime. The fighter struck out, square 
 from the shoulder, and sent the boss down among the other victims 
 of this young man's rage. His plug hat rolling and tumbling an- 
 other rod ahead of him. The boss struggled to his feet and stood 
 as a quiet witness, until the fight ended for lack of more men to 
 knock down, and the whole circus ended right there and then, 
 with the young Hercules standing peacefully in the crowd — with a 
 victorious smile on his face and no one to question his title to the 
 name of boss knocker. He was another exemplification of the 
 power of one man, energetically applied, that is fresh in my mind 
 to the present day. 
 
40 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A GREEDY LANDLORD. 
 
 What shall I say in this chapter ? The reader may think I have 
 run out of material by this time, but let the reader consider that a 
 man who was born before such things as railroads, telegraph lines, 
 trolley lines, steamboats, telephones, ocean cables, mail delivery 
 routes, flying machines, sewing machines, oil, gas, automobiles, 
 electric power and many other things that I could mention came 
 into use, ought to know more than would fill a small book. The 
 voung men and women of the present time may well wonder hoM' 
 human beings could get along without the things above mentioned. 
 But they did get along 6,000 years before these conveniences came 
 to help mankind in general. 
 
 When I was a boy a party of young men and young ladies would 
 get into a big box filled with straw, on a pair of wooden bob sleds, 
 drawn by old "Buck and Jerry," a faithful yoke of oxen, and go on 
 a snail's gallup miles upon miles to a dance, in zero weather, with 
 as light hearts and as much — or more — merriment than is now 
 shown in automobile loads of young heirs to millions of dollars. 
 A man worth $10,000 was considered as great a man as a multi- 
 millionaire is at the present time. I think as to happiness, perhaps 
 these old time young people had the best of it. The ox teams 
 never killed anybody. As much cannot be said in the favor of 
 automobiles. Many people of great wealth have passed to the 
 other life on account of their wealth. A poor man or woman can- 
 not own one of these man-killers. Human life is much safer be- 
 hind an ox team than behind an automobile. Of course a certain 
 few, and very few, owned horses and buggies, but they stood no 
 higher in society than ox team people. There were no distinctions 
 or classes, at that time. All stood on the same level. There was 
 not wealth enough in the country to make it worth while to draw 
 a distinction. There are so many cliques and classes, nowadays, 
 that when either class gets up any kind of an entertainment it is a 
 puzzle to the "committee" to know who to invite. This trouble- 
 some puzzle did not come in at the time of which I write, conse- 
 quently they had more room for unalloyed happiness. 
 
 Where the hilarity came, in the old times, was at the country 
 corn husking or apple paring bees. The patent apple''dryer was 
 not invented and the main dependence was a pocket knife. The 
 unsophisticated young man was right at home, and perfectly con- 
 
A GREEDY LANDLORD 41 
 
 tented, when, sitting beside his best girl, with a pan of apples on 
 his knees, pocket knife in hand, removing the skin from the luscious 
 apples, and his intended life partner busily engaged in stringing 
 the nicely quartered apples as they came from the nimble knives. 
 Whole evenings would be spent in perfect contentment on the part 
 of both. In fact, the longer the apples lasted. the better. When 
 bushels of apples were nicely pared and strung ready for hanging 
 all around the fire place — no stoves then to take up the room in a 
 house — a nail could be driven into a wall, to hang the strings of 
 apples on to dry — then a halt would be called and refreshments 
 served by the good lady of the farm house. After devouring the 
 "nick-nacks" the time, generally running into the morning hours, 
 would be spent in dancing, or playing "snap and catch 'em," "the 
 mill goes round," "chase the squirrel," and dozens of these inno- 
 cent plays. If I am a good judge, more harmony existed then 
 than now. A good and substantial reason for this is easy to be 
 seen. The people never had heard or dreamed of these luxuries 
 or conveniences of the present time, therefore they did not quarrel 
 and wrangle over these things. 
 
 I have been writing so far in these articles, about older times, not 
 oil times, as no oil was dreamed of then. I will now come down 
 to oil times. Speaking of dancing, I should have said in the 
 right place, that no quadrille had been invented when I first kept 
 time to Arthur McKinney's single fiddle — that was what we called 
 it then. It is now called a violin. We had no caller either. The 
 dancers bossed themselves. We had learned to get through the 
 "Opera Reel," "Money Musk," "French Four" and many other 
 "country" dances. Each dancer was a self-taught scholar. All 
 good dancers had learned their pieces "by heart", and but few 
 mistakes were made. The writer remembers his first venture on 
 the dancing floor. He selected one of the best looking and smart- 
 est girls in the room for a partner. She knew her business to a "t" 
 and so did all the rest except the writer. But, grabbing every 
 hand extended to him, hopping back and forth, as the other seven 
 in the set did, turning every corner in the imitation of my partner, 
 and keeping not very good time to McKinney's fiddle, I came off 
 victorious. I had won my first ball room battle. But I was not 
 a real independent dancer yet. I had followed the motions of 
 others and had before me the many figures to learn before becom- 
 ing a full fledged dancing beaux. But, as in most of the under- 
 takings of this life, perseverance won, and ere many moons I knew 
 where to go without being directed. 
 
 I must mention one dance given in Parker City, soon after oil 
 
42 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 was struck. I was in the lumber business and occasionally visited 
 the place before it was a city. At each visit I stopped at the same 
 hotel. One evening I registered as usual and soon learned that a 
 big ball was to come off that night. The proprietor of the hotel 
 offered to find lodging for me outside the noise of his dance. I 
 told him not to take the trouble, as the noise would not disturb 
 my slumbers in the least. This landlord had engaged two violin- 
 ists from Brady's Bend. There was not a violinist at Parker City 
 at that time. The musicians were promptly on hand; also a big 
 crowd of dancers. About 11 p. m. one of the musicians received 
 a telegram calling him home immediately on account of the death 
 of a relative. He lost no time in catching the Pittsburg train 
 that was just ready to leave the Parker depot. As the absent 
 violinist was caller of the quadrilles his partner was left in a bad 
 shape. The band was also left in a bad fix, with two violins and 
 but one player, and the player could not call one quadrille. I had 
 played and called quadrilles for 25 years, but nobody in Parker 
 City knew it. The landlord told me that he would be obliged to 
 pay a part of the money back to that large crowd if he stopped the 
 program half finished. The milk of human kindness began to flow 
 in my veins, and to save this clever landlord from making such a 
 sacrifice, I told him that I could fill the place of the absent mu- 
 sician. To say that he was pleased would be putting it lightly. 
 He smiled all over his face and I took up the absent man's work, 
 and saved a breakup of the ball. I lost my full night's sleep. I 
 got a couple of hours sleep in the morning, and that landlord charg- 
 ed me 50 cents for supper, 50 cents for lodging and 50 cents for 
 breakfast, and I paid it without a word— just the same as he al- 
 ways had charged me when I had not saved $100 for him. How- 
 ever this fiddler never stayed another night at that hotel after 
 paying for the privilege of saving the collapse of the big^ ball. 
 
 Now, for the purpose of showing the hardships and trials of the 
 early settlers in this part of the country, I recite one circumstance 
 which came to my own family. Many years before the Philadel- 
 phia & Erie railroad was built through Garland, my folks lived 
 there, wnen I was a boy 8 years old, 73 years ago. Flour of all 
 kinds became scarce. There was none to be found in the valley of 
 the Brokenstraw; none of the stores the whole length of the valley 
 had any meal of any kind. Our folks had used the last in the 
 house and starvation stared us in the face. We had kind neigh- 
 bors, but they were nearly as bad off as we were, so we could not 
 rely upon borrowing. The morning after the last flour had been 
 used my father, very much discouraged, started out from home to 
 
A GREEDY LANDLORD 43 
 
 see his neighbors and talk with them. The first neighbor he met 
 told him that a man from Titusville was coming that day to the 
 valley of the Brokenstraw with a wagon load of flour. The man 
 was to take the shortest route through Enterprise and over Cole 
 Hill, leaving about four miles to be traveled to reach the route of 
 the "bread line." My faithful father took the tramp with an 
 empty bag on his arm and reached a place on the Titusville road 
 called the "Birch Springs" before the eagerly looked for wagon 
 came along. When it did arrive father purchased, at a high price, 
 100 pounds of nice wheat flour and carried it on his shoulder the 
 four miles to his anxiously waiting wife and three children. We — 
 the children — looked upon our father as a sort of saviour, and our 
 exclamations of joy must bave been to him part pay for his labor of 
 love. You, of the present age of all kinds of vehicles, can form 
 but a faint conception of the labor and suffering of the early pio- 
 neers of this country. Ijong before the discovery of oil or gas, O, 
 what a change! In the days spoken of above in order to have a 
 light at night the housewife would nielt a cake of tallow, saved 
 from butchering time, and pour it into tin molds — let it harden in 
 a cool place — warm it by the wood fire, and pull them out of the 
 molds. Rather a nice looking candle but a poor light giver. In 
 place of matches, which were unknown then, a sliver would be 
 lighted in the stone chimney fireplace and applied to the wick of 
 the candle, and an alleged light, which would burn a little while, 
 would be produced. Every now and then the tallow would burn 
 too far below the top of the wick. The light would be too dim 
 for weak eyes, then a pair of iron nippers would be used in clipping 
 off the burnt wick surplus. I can almost see the change now 
 that would take place in the light as I sat reading, when someone 
 would say "Snuff the candle." Another way of making candles 
 was to tie cotton wicks about two inches apart on sticks and dip 
 a dozen at a time in the hot tallow, and after the tallow cooled dip 
 again, and continue to dip and cool until the candle was large 
 enough to suit the taste of the dipper, then lay them away for use. 
 This last mentioned was named "a tallow dip." One of these 
 made about as much light as a full grown lightening bug. Com- 
 pare this manner of lighting with the present manner. Now you 
 strike a friction match and touch to the wick of your gas fixture 
 and instantaneously your room is as light as day. And if you are 
 too lazy to turn it off when you retire let it burn — it needs no snuff- 
 ing if it burns a month or a year. The difference between "the 
 light of other days" and the present is beyond my ability to de- 
 scribe. 
 
44 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 And there is still more difference in the heating ofia house. 
 Then, no matter how deep the snow, the oxen were yoked up and 
 driven to the nearby woods. A hardwood tree, maple, beech, 
 birch, hickory, oak, ash, or any hardwood that encumbered the 
 ground was used. The driver of the oxen would chop a tree down, 
 trim the limbs off from bottom to top, hitch the ox chain to it and 
 take the whole tree to the house and "the man of the house" would 
 chop it up to the desired length' (generally about four feet, owing 
 to the size of the open fireplace) , You begin to think now that 
 these fire logs would have a little snow on them. Well, you make 
 a good guess. When you put those logs upon the live coals you 
 could hardly distinguish those logs from snow balls, but by adding 
 a little dry kindling wood to this snow-fire a warm room would 
 soon be the result. The half is not told yet. No stoves were in 
 use then. The danger of sparks flying out of that open fireplace 
 at night was a sleep destroyer for nervous people, but custom will 
 do great things and as all were accustomed to this danger a great 
 majority of the people gave it but little thought. They got used 
 to it like the people of Etna and Vesuvius, who build the villages 
 on the courses of the dry lava streams. I never lost a moment's 
 sleep by reason of the thought that a spark might come sailing 
 across the room at any time and make a bonfire of my bed. Many 
 is the time that I have heard the snap of the red hot log and saw 
 the burning coal light on the floor without any nervousness on my 
 part. Each chimney had a stone hearth from two to four feet 
 wide for the sparks and coals to fall upon, trusting to the Great 
 Ruler of All Things to arrest the flight of sparks or coals before it 
 passed over these flat stone protectors. But as all old settlers are 
 aware, the coal was governed by force that sent it. As many 
 passed beyond this imaginary line as stopped on the hearth, but 
 as there were no carpets the danger of firing the house was much 
 lessened. I have many and many a time seen a parlor floor cov- 
 ered with black spots caused by hot coals not hot enough 
 to burn clear through an inch board and set the house on fire. And 
 strange to say, there were but few of those log dwelhngs burned 
 from the cause mentioned above. This statement is hardly be- 
 lieveable under the circumstances. How could any one of the 
 present day, go off up stairs and quietly lie down and go to sleep 
 to the music of popping logs and flying coals down stairs ? Al- 
 though familiarized when young it would disturb my nervous'sys- 
 tem now when old. '■''■-"" '"'" ^- f"",* 
 
 Before*leaving this firewood question, I^will|just tell "one","on 
 the old settlers. They never, except a^veryj^small number, cut 
 
A GREEDY LANDLORD 45 
 
 their firewood a few months in advance and let it dry befor using. 
 They cut their wood— a tree at a time — as described above, all 
 winter long, instead of cutting it about a third of a year before 
 burning and letting it dry and then putting it under a roof where 
 no snow could reach it, thus saving the trouble of compelling green 
 wood to burn, and saving dollars and dollars. I'll explain. With 
 green wood when you want a little fire you must build a big fire. 
 You must put in lots of kindling, then pile on many sticks of green 
 wood before you can possibly get a fire hot enough to boil a tea- 
 kettle. In the summer time you have a hot fire, in a hot house, 
 and must wait until it burns itself out when you have no use for it. 
 On the other hand, you can lay one stick on a few remaining coals 
 and it will blaze up immediately and boil your teakettle, and one 
 stick of wood is soon consumed and you have a cool house. No 
 one can afford to burn green wood. The cost is more than double, 
 to say nothing about the convenience of the dry wood. As in 
 nearly eyerything, there has been a great change in the wood busi- 
 ness. Now a large majority of the farmers cut their wood, dry it, 
 and house it as carefully as they do their hay for their stock, 
 thus keeping pace with the improvements of the age. Now and 
 then a farmer sticks to the old wasteful way of ''from hand to 
 mouth." What I have been saying does not, of course, apply to 
 us lucky ones who live along natural gas lines. All we have to do 
 is to touch a match to our gas burner in a stove and instantly we 
 have a fire that will burn without touching again f; r a day, week, 
 month, year or five years. How is it possible to appreciate nat- 
 ural gas for cooking, lighting or heating ? Our minds are not 
 capable of measuring the distance between 80 years ago and to-day 
 in the question of light and heat. I have left out a part of this 
 article. But it is not too late yet to make amends. I men- 
 tioned the fact of no matches being invented, in the old times, 
 but failed to describe the substitute. We took a piece of hard 
 stone called a flint, then struck the flint with the back of a knife, 
 or any piece of steel, a slanting blow and the fire would fly, drop- 
 ping onto a piece of punk held under the flint. How often have I 
 seen men "striking fire" when not a live coal could be found about 
 the house ! Everybody depended upon the flint as we now depend 
 upon matches. The punk that was used to catch the fire from the 
 sparks was but rotten knots taken from old hardwood logs and 
 dried and kept as carefully as we now keep matches. Hunters in 
 the woods were never without the punk and flint. In fact, anyone 
 who ever expected to need a fire carried these two things. I can- 
 not say where the flint came from, but they were made of very 
 
46 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 hard stone, as clear and resembling common glass. The flint in 
 flintlock guns was made of the same material. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHEN OIL CITY WAS A SHANTY TOWN. 
 
 When I was younger than I am now, and when Oil City was 
 younger than it is now, I helped "Smith & Allison" in their lum- 
 ber business all one summer. The manner of handling lumber at 
 that time was crude in the extreme. A raft would be run down 
 the river and tied up below the old grist mill. As no such a thing 
 as a brick house was thought of at that time, a large number of 
 boards were used in building what passed for a dwelling place. 
 These houses were constructed by putting up a frame of hewed 
 pine timbers — no scantling balloon frames were in vogue at that 
 time — then nailing rough boards on the outside, after which "bat- 
 tens," about three inches wide, were nailed over the cracks. Lath- 
 ing and plastering were not a part of the make-up of an ordinary 
 dwelling house at that time. When the mercury fell to zero, ac- 
 companied by a north wind. Jack Frost fond it easy to penetrate 
 the best abodes of the few beople living within the limits of the 
 present Oil City of fine, warm homes. Store rooms and all busi- 
 ness places were constructed in the manner described above. When 
 nothing but Cranberry coal and wood were used for heating pur- 
 poses, the reader has only to guess at the discomforts of the pion- 
 eers. No anthracite coal — no railroad to bring it in — no electric 
 lights, no gas lights, and none but oil lamps, fashioned in a crude 
 state, was the fate of the founders of Oil City. Many old people 
 are alive to-day who can appreciate what is printed here, but the 
 young folks of the present will simply have to guess at the hard- 
 ships and inconveniences of "Old Times in Oildom." It is not 
 possible for me to guide my awkward pencil in giving a description 
 of all the hardships endured by the founders of this tremendous 
 and present great oil business. Just let the rising generation look 
 at the Oil City of to-day, and then let them try to imagine how the 
 people got along without a bridge of any kind across the river — 
 only one little chain ferry, nearly up to Siverly ville ; an island in 
 the middle of the river, about where the covered bridge now stands; 
 an island covered with a crop of corn, accessible to skiffs. One 
 could row a skiff from the north side of the river to this island, 
 
WHEN OIL CITY WAS A SHANTY TOWN 47 
 
 then lead it through the eddy at the lower end of the cornfield, 
 then from there to the south side of the river, thus getting across 
 the Allegheny without paying a chain ferry fee. But what would 
 anyone go across for ? They would only see one farm, with one 
 old house, and barn to match, on that side of the river. But few 
 people crossed the river, owing to the fact that there were but few 
 people to cross. Well, I'm wandering again; I'll get back to the 
 tarly lumber business. 
 
 "Smith & Allison's" lumber yard was located where the Arling- 
 ton hotel now stands. Not all the lumber they handled was piled 
 there. The largest share of it was sold on the river beach. A 
 teamster would back his wagon down into the water, against the 
 raft, and load the lumber on the wagon, and drive directly to the 
 spot where it was used, thereby saving a double handling. My 
 business was to measure the lumber as fast as loaded, and report 
 at the office. The office was located just about where the obliging 
 clerk of the Arlington now rakes in the sheckles. One teamster, 
 in particular deserves "special mention" here. He was familiar- 
 ly called "Nigger Jim." He was a well-to-do colored man. He 
 owned the team of horses that he drove, and a house and lot, about 
 half way to Siverly. Jim worked like a man of business. When 
 he was wanted he was always there. He had a black skin but a 
 white heart. It was necessary to wade in the water while getting 
 the bottom course of each raft, and float the boards to shore, so 
 that a teamster would keep his feet dry. This wetting of feet 
 came to the measurer as an offset to the easy work that was his. 
 For several days I was "rather under the weather" and hardly 
 able to work. This came to Jim's ears, and he, unasked, jumped 
 into the water and for a week he would not let me get my feet wet. 
 I never met Jim after that without giving him the warm hand of 
 fellowship. For many years I have not met Jim. I don't know 
 whether he is alive or not, but I hope is alive and prospering as of 
 old. Perhaps there are teamsters with a white skin that would be 
 just as kind under the circumstances, but I never happened to 
 find them. The kind deeds of "Nigger Jim" will never vanish 
 from my memory. 
 
 Ballard's barrel piles were one of the many wonders of the oil 
 business. Empty oil barrels were made up the river somewhere, in 
 "York State" — and tied together, in great rafts, and floated to Oil 
 City. One "barrel yard" was located just across the street in 
 front of where the Arlington now stands. I will not try to give 
 the height of the pile of barrels, generally on hand, but will say 
 that the tiptop of the pile pointed skyward, to about the same de- 
 
48 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 gree as the present Chambers block. Mr. Ballard's barrels found 
 a ready sale, until the advent of tank cars and pipe lines. Then 
 the great pile melted away and ga\ e place to large business blocks, 
 which are an honor to the city and ;i source of income to the own- 
 ers. 
 
 To return to Smith & Allison. Mr. Smith built the first dwelling 
 house on Cottage hill. The people called him a "fool for building 
 up in that cornfield," where he would be compelled to walk — or 
 climb to his rather imposing looking home. Years, and years 
 ago, Mr. Smith crossed over the divide — passed through St. Peter's 
 gate. He was the very personification of honesty and uprightness. 
 Mr. Allison is still in the land of the living, and seems to be enjoy- 
 ing himself. He lives off west, somewhere, but came back to 
 Franklin a couple of years ago, and made^one of the best speeches 
 of the occasion of Old Home week. Thousands of his hearers 
 will bear me out in saying this. I had the pleasure of meeting him 
 at the house of a relative of his, at Salina, Pa., when he was making 
 that eastern visit. I was surprised to find him the same ''Doc" 
 Allison of old. Some men never get old, and "Doc" is one of them. 
 The Derrick published his "Old Home Week speech" at the time, 
 as doubtless its readers remember the speech. It was full of good 
 things from first to last. 
 
 Before leaving the lumber question I will mention a little tran- 
 saction that does not savor of square dealing. 
 
 I landed a river "fleet" of square pine building timber in Oil 
 Creek eddy, or rather in the mouth of Oil Creek. It was for sale. 
 A man came up from Franklin, who owned a lumber yard in the 
 "Nursery of Great Men," and looking all over the raft, made an 
 offer for it which I accepted. I agreed to run the timber to Frank- 
 lin, the next day, which I did, and landed it at the junction of the 
 river and French Creek as directed by the man — I will not call 
 him a gentleman — paid off the men who helped me run the raft, 
 walked over French creek to this man's lumber yard and notified 
 him of the arrival of his timber. "All right, I will go right over 
 with you" was his answer. When we arrived on the raft he made 
 this most unexpected speech "This timber is too old. It must 
 have been cut last winter. I will not accept it." I told him the 
 timber was cut in the winter but it was not quite a day older than 
 when he bought it. I told the man I was below the market now, 
 as I could have sold it at Oil City, where they were using such 
 timber in large quantities. The man still refused to take it. I 
 thought I was completely "hoodooed." I started for town using 
 language for the benefit of my timber customer that I would not 
 
HIGH STANDARD OFFICIALS 49 
 
 like to see in print. He started with me to return to town, but I 
 would not be seen in his company going into Franklin. I walked 
 faster than he and with a "Benediction" left him far in the rear, 
 but fortune favored me after all this treacher}-. I sold my raft to 
 the city of Franklin the same day for crosswalks for $50 more than 
 the rascally lumber yard man agreed to give me. Now, dear read- 
 er, what do you think of that for a display of cheek? 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HIGH STANDARD OFFICIALS WHO ARE NATIVES OF 
 BROKENSTRAW VALLEY. 
 
 Perhaps it will be news to many readers to mention the fact that 
 the Brokenstraw valley is the only valley along the Allegheny 
 river from Kittaning to Coudersport that has not produced oil in 
 paying quantities. It has produced oil operators. John L. Mc- 
 Kinney, J. C. McKinney and "Cal" Payne are Brokenstraw pro- 
 ductions. All three were reared about three miles from Youngs- 
 ville. "Curt" McKinney and "Cal." were considered good average 
 little boys, but John L. McKinney was somewhat different from 
 the common run of boys. He always was a little on the dude 
 order. Other boys who were not inclined to put on airs like John 
 poked fun at him. Little they dreamed of him outstripping them 
 all. No doubt but that he could now buy and sell the whole batch 
 of those boys who at that time tried to hold their heads higher. In 
 fact, he could buy the Brokenstraw valley and have a good wad of 
 pocket change left. This is a changeable world. From boyhood 
 to old age makes changes that are hardly believable. John was 
 always on hand at the balls that were very numerous in his boy- 
 hood days and on account of fine dressing and pleasant manners 
 he was a great favorite among the fair sex. The writer of this has 
 helped to make music (such as it was) for John to trip the light 
 fantastic toe many and many a night. No one thought at that 
 time that he had a business streak running through him that in 
 after years would make him a power in the financial world. And 
 ' Curt McKinney," although a more sedate boy than some of his 
 young companions, has "surprised the natives." Both of these 
 brothers belong to an oil family. This family of James McKinney, 
 one of the pioneers of the Brokenstraw and Warren county, I 
 
50 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 might say, are a family of oil workers and have done more than 
 their share to make the oil business what it is to-day. The family 
 consisted of six boys and one girl, and the girl married an oil man 
 of Meadville. Colonel Drake did not know the opportunity he 
 was giving to develop some energetic intelligent families when he 
 opened up this world-wide business near the city of Titusville. If 
 Mr. Drake had lived to the present time he could not help feeling 
 proud to think of the growth of the business that his busy brain 
 laid the foundation for. If any one had told of what the oil busi- 
 ness would come to, the morning after the Drake well was struck, 
 they would have been pronounced fit subjects for an insane asylum. 
 I must not leave out the boy "Cal" Payne. He always had an old 
 head on his shoulders and was always doing something that boys 
 in general could not do. He first surprised the denizens of the 
 Brokenstraw valley by getting an appointment as passenger con- 
 ductor of the Philadelphia & Erie railroad. That was out of the 
 ordinary for a farmer boy to take charge of a passenger (or any 
 other) train on a great railroad. Well, reader, "Cal" was not 
 content to punch tickets and be looked up to as a great man by 
 his outstripped companions and resigned and started into the oil 
 business. Nearly everyone who was acquainted with the young 
 conductor thought him very foolish to leave his position on the 
 railroad for the then uncertain oil business, but ''Cal" knew what 
 he was about and he came up, up and up until his name as one of 
 the high officers in the Standard Oil Company is a household word 
 everywhere an oil derrick is to be seen in this broad land of ours. 
 
 I began this article by telling the readers about the barren oil 
 territory of the Brokenstraw valley. The valley is not entirely 
 barren of oil and gas. About 30 years ago Mr. Nevans, of Titus- 
 ville, leased a lot of land in Youngsville and put down a well on 
 the John Siggins farm, between the P. & E. and the D. A. V. & P. 
 railroad stations. When about 900 feet down he struck some gas 
 and got a one barrel well. As this was not much of a well in the 
 days of 1,000 and 2,000 barrelers, he moved his tools about 15 rods 
 from the location and drilled another well. This was a mate to 
 the first and Mr. Nevans left for richer fields, continuing to operate 
 until called to the life beyond. Before leaving Youngsville he 
 told your humble servant that there was oil in the Brokenstraw 
 valley. His theory was this: The rock, about 40 feet of it, was 
 too hard for much oil to come through, but that more open rock 
 was not far distant, else there would be no oil or gas seeping 
 through. He said that if he knew which way to go for this loose 
 sand he would put down another well, but it was impossible for 
 
HIGH STANDARD OFFICIALS 51 
 
 him or anybody else to telFwhich direction to take. Several wells 
 have been drilled since Mr. Nevans left. All got both'Joil and gas, 
 but not enough to convince the owners that it would pay to pump 
 them. Through all these years some of these wells have been 
 producing Hghtly, the oil being taken out with a sand pump. No 
 well_ has been tested yet in a scientific manner. Those interested 
 in oil matters are in hopes the new methods of operating oil wells 
 will soon be tried here. A Pittsburg company has secured several 
 leases lately and will commence operations very soon. It is to be 
 hoped that the mile-wide valley of the Brokenstraw will not be 
 left out in the cold many moons longer. I think that the good 
 Lord would not place oil in paying quantities in the valleys of 
 Mahoning, Redbank, Bear Creek, Clarion, Scrubgrass, French 
 Creek, Two Mile Run, Oil Creek, Horse Creek, Pithole, Hemlock, 
 Tionesta, West Hickory, East Hickory, Big Sandy, East Sandy, 
 Tidioute, Dennis Run, Kinzua, Sugar Run, Cory don, Salamanca' 
 Clean, Portville, Eldred, Port Allegany, Coudersport, and aU the 
 smaller streams, tributary to the Allegheny river, from Kittaning 
 to the headwaters, and leave the widest and most beautiful, the 
 Brokenstraw valley, minus this rich blessing of oil and gas. ' 
 
 I see I have omitted in the enumeration of valleys the most 
 prolific of any — Tunungwant. Excuse me, ye dwellers among 
 the never failing oil and gas wells of McKean county. And even 
 if the days of one barrel wells ever come, Youngsville and vicinity 
 will be oil producing territory, even if Mr. Nevan should be mis- 
 taken in his loose sand prediction. A few years ago a well was 
 drilled inside the borough line to a depth of 800 feet, when oil and 
 gas were struck. The gas blazed 40 or 50 feet high, with a roar 
 that could be heard at a distance of a mile. Several barrels of 
 oil were thrown out. The driller, Mr. Meeley, had great hopes of 
 a good paying well. The well was shot and the flow of gas was by 
 some nieans shut off. Mr. Meeley commenced to clean the well. 
 Each night 40 feet of quick sand would run into the hole, which 
 required a whole day with the sand pumps to remove. This kept 
 up for a week, when the superintendent abandoned the well with 
 40 feet of quicksand in the hole. Mr. Meeley was so much chagrined 
 by this order_ of the superintendent that he (Mr. Meeley) said he 
 once had a similar quicksand job on his hands and it required 
 three weeks to exhaust the quicksand. When exhausted they had 
 a 25-barrel well. A then resident of Youngsville, a very successful 
 Cherry Run operator, and afterwards a Tiona and Clarendon op- 
 erator, pronounced this well good for heating and lighting half the 
 borough of Youngsville. But for some reason the superintendent 
 
52 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 abandoned this best prospect in Youngsville and the north and 
 west side of the borough is an uncertainty up to the present time. 
 A line of wells had been drilled — four in number — along the Brok- 
 enstraw creek, each prospect nearly as good as the last mentioned, 
 but none has had a scientific test, and it is an open question, which 
 could soon be solved, whether this valley of the Brokenstraw will 
 remain small territory, or take its place among the many pro- 
 ductive valleys along the Allegheny river. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BIG THINGS WHICH STARTED IN WESTERN 
 PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 I wonder how many of my readers ever thought of how very im- 
 portant a part of the country is this section of Western Pennsyl- 
 vania. The writer of this was born in Centerville, Crawford coun- 
 ty. Pa. Several great things had a beginning within a radius of 
 18 miles of this rather unpretentious country borough. 
 
 First — The A. 0. U. W., a beneficiary order, was organized a 
 few miles south of Centerville. Jefferson lodge. No. 1, was the 
 first fraternal insurance lodge organized in the United States. Now 
 lodges are found in every nook and corner of this great country. 
 They are numbered by the thousands and hundreds of thousands 
 of members have died, leaving their beneficiaries — widows and 
 children — provided for, who, if not for that first organization of 
 the Ancient Order of United Workmen, would have been left 
 destitute. One hundred and seventy millions of dollars have been 
 paid by this order to stricken families where the Great Reaper has 
 entered the homes. Reader, just try for a moment to estimate 
 how many little children would have been ragged and hungry, 
 who have been clothed and fed, to-day if it had not been for the 
 A. O. U. W. And not only this but other fraternal orders, taking 
 the cue from this pioneer order, have multiplied until now over 
 200 different associations, of different names, flourish in America, 
 with over 7,000,000 members, paying about $80,000,000 yearly. 
 All from that little start of eight men, led by John J. Upchurch, 
 of Meadville, 40 years ago. 
 
 Second — The first fraternal dollar was paid 18 miles north of 
 Centerville, at Corry, Erie county, Pa. Lodge No. 1 at Meadville 
 
ORIGINAL WITH WESTERN PENN'A. 53 
 
 was the first lodge organized, but it did not have the first death. 
 Lodge No. 2 was located at Corry and had the first death. At 
 that time the two lodges had 260 members. The assessment on 
 the death of a member was $1 for each member. This assessment 
 was always paid in advance. So, you can see, that there was $250 
 lying in the treasury at Meadville, awaiting a death to take place. 
 At that time the plans of the order were in a very crude state. 
 Members joined for the first three years existence of the society with- 
 out a medical examination. People by the hundreds were saying 
 that after the first death and the first assessment had been paid out, 
 no more money would be paid in. So, after due consideration, so 
 the story runs, the Corry lodge agreed to make a test. They in- 
 itiated an old fellow who was nearly gone with consumption. He 
 died in about three weeks, and the recorder of the lodge, Mr. Fen- 
 ton, of Jamestown, N. Y., who now runs a pail factory at that 
 place, but who lived at Corry at that time, took the $250 to the 
 home of the widow. The "smarties" lost their guess. Not a mem- 
 ber of the 250 failed to pay in their dollar assessment, and, beyond 
 the most ardent dreams of the members, the income of the order, 
 in place of $250, is now nearly a million dollars a month. 
 
 Third— The first oil well was found at Titusville, Pa., 10 miles 
 from Centerville, on the edge of Venango county. Pa. I need not 
 say that from one little Drake well blessings far beyond description 
 have come to the world. And right here let me call your atten- 
 tion to the point that the hand of Providence must have guided 
 the hand of Mr. Drake. He drilled his first well on the only spot 
 where he, with his limited means, could have secured oil in paying 
 quantities. Had he drilled his well on any other spot, we poor 
 mortals would now be warmed by coal and wood, and we would be 
 writing at night, by the light of a pitch pine knot or an old glass 
 lamp covered with soot or grease, or by the light of tallow candles, 
 or some other kind of an arrangement. Mr. Drake had only 
 enough money, by being helped, to put a well down 70 feet, where 
 would he have been if he had been obhged to go thrice that dis- 
 tance ? The answer is: He would have quit before another 70 
 feet was drilled. Compare the tools that Mr. Drake was obliged 
 to use with the improved tools of the present, and what is your 
 conclusion ? I claim to know something of what I am talking 
 about. Just after the Drake well was struck the quiet_ but ener- 
 getic John B. Duncan, of East Titusville, a cousin of mine, took it 
 into his head to kick down a well on Pine creek. ^ I helped him 
 six weeks with his laudable undertaking at the princely wages of 
 75 cents per day. You had better believe that during that six 
 
64 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 weeks John and I did some kicking and twisting of sucker rods. I 
 left John at the end of six weeks to work out his own salvation, and 
 with a few weeks more of hard kicking he was rewarded with a five 
 barrel well. Oil was at a good price at that time, and John made 
 a little money as a reward for his perseverance. John was almost 
 a brother of mine. When he was born his mother died. I was 
 only 11 months old at the time and my mother, who was a sister to 
 John's mother, took care of us both. Good woman that she was, 
 she managed to bring us both to the six-foot notch. I always felt 
 as though John was my half-brother. I think every man, woman 
 and child in Titusville knew and respected him. He was a walk- 
 ing encyclopedia. He would take the time any day to impart in- 
 formation concerning the old settlers of Oil Creek. Several years 
 ago he passed away. 
 
 When we sum it all up, where can we find another part of the 
 United States where such godsends have taken root within a radius 
 of 35 miles ? Meadville, Corry (Corry paid the first fraternal in- 
 surance dollar in the United States) and Titusville are names to 
 be emblazoned on the pages of fame. Do you blame me for feeling 
 a trifle proud of being born at Centerville, about the middle of this 
 triangle of little cities ? Right close to Titusville lived Henry R. 
 Rouse, at Enterprise, Pa., four miles from the Drake well. The 
 lively suburb of Oil City — Rouseville — took his name. But to go 
 back a little. Young Rouse came to Enterprise, Pa., when but a 
 schoolboy. He soon pitched into the lumber business and 
 turned the tall pine trees into money. He displayed great apti- 
 tude, and the people of Warren county sent him — the boy repre- 
 sentative — to the state assembly. He soon made himself felt in 
 legislative affairs. About the time his term of law-making in 
 Harrisburg expired, the oil business electrified the world. Young 
 Rouse took a lease of the Buchanan farm, on which Rouseville 
 now stands, and commenced successful operations. When noth- 
 ing but brightness and prosperity stared him in the face, one of 
 his wells caught fire, and he, with many others — Willis Benedict, 
 one of Titusville' s prominent men was among the number — was 
 fearfully burned. Mr. Rouse lived but two hours after the acci- 
 dent, but in that short space of time he made a will that could not 
 be improved if he had given it a month's study. He was a single 
 man with no relatives but his old father. After providing for his 
 parent, he bequeathed to Warren county the remainder of his 
 lumber and oil property. Half the interest of his fortune he want- 
 ed used for the benefit of the poor and the other half to be used for 
 building a court house, and for building iron bridges and othey 
 
GOULD NOT GIVE HIS HILLSIDE AWAY 55 
 
 road improvements in Warren county. The voters of the county 
 were amply rewarded for sending him to the legislature when he 
 was but a boy. Warren county has had no poor tax to pay and 
 but few iron bridges to build since the flames burned out the life 
 of that noble, enterprising young man — Henry R. Rouse. Pas- 
 sengers passing through Youngsville on either the Lake Shore or 
 Philadelphia & Erie roads can see from the train the county poor 
 farm and the Rouse hospital, erected by the bequests of this man. 
 A marble monument stands on the lawn in front of the hospital 
 to commemorate his memory. Although of a respectable size, it 
 is not half as large as it should be, when compared with the prince- 
 ly fortune left for generations yet unborn. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 COULD NOT GIVE HIS ROCKY HILLSIDE AWAY. 
 
 In this chapter I will mention the "on to Buffalo" business. 
 When the Dunkirk, Allegheny Valley & Pittsburg railroad was be- 
 ing built, the Buffalo and Titusville people were very eager for the 
 road. They expected that a competing line would be built from 
 Titusville to Oil City, connecting with the Lake Shore branch to 
 Ashtabula, 0. If this could have been carried out to the Lake 
 Shore, as it is now called, it would probably have been a better 
 paying road to-day. This route would have given a traveler from 
 the east to the west a trunk line ride through the oil region instead 
 of going up the lake, where not a derrick is to be seen. But the 
 managers of the old W. N. Y. & P. put up the bars by laying 
 down a track on the east side of Oil Creek to hold the right of way 
 against all comers. I write this to show the moves on the railroad 
 checker board. I never saw in my limited travels a railroad built 
 such a distance and lie unused until the ties rotted under the rails 
 except in this one case. Perhaps the embargo will be lifted some 
 day and that link in the line of 17 miles will be put in. But even 
 with this drawback, the D. A. V. & P. road was needed between 
 Titusville and Dunkirk to take care of the Chautauqua Lake and 
 Lily Dale travel, the local business all along a good farming coun- 
 try, including Warren and Youngsville, and the oil and lumber 
 trade of Grand Valley. The smoke has ceased to pour forth from 
 the stacks at the lumber mills, as is always the case at ^11 lumbei: 
 
56 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM . 
 
 camps in the course of time, when the timber is all sawed, and the 
 production of oil and gas has fallen off to a certain extent. But 
 it will be many days before all the oil and gas is gone. Two of the 
 men familiar to the lumber operators have handled their last car- 
 load of lumber and the last barrel of oil. I allude to L. B. Wood 
 and Judge C. C. Merritt. The judge left for the untried land a 
 few years ago. And let me say the Judge was the first to die of 
 a most remarkable family of brothers. The judge had 11 brothers. 
 There were 12, counting himself, in that family. All lived to be 
 old men, and not one of the 12 ever used tobacco or whiskey in 
 any form. L. B. Wood was a man who is missed. Indeed he was 
 in "Grand Valley." When he was gone the whole Valley seemed 
 almost deserted. He did a vast amount of business and was a 
 leader indeed. Wood left a son (Williston,) who has the father's 
 traits about him to such an extent that the immense business of 
 his father will not suffer. L. B. also left a brother, Frank, and 
 the large business built up by the lamented L. B. Wood will move 
 along without much change. But the pleasant and business face 
 of L. B. Wood has been missed in his office, store and on the streets 
 of Grand Valley. 
 
 The first man of Youngsville who made monej'^ at the oil busi- 
 ness was John Davis, a shoe maker for years before oil was thought 
 of. He was born and reared on a farm near Youngsville. He' 
 by hard work, could only make "both ends meet." He had but 
 little money but a good supply of courage. At the very first of 
 the developments at Tidioute he moved his famity to that town 
 and took a lease, set up a spring pole and pegged away until he 
 struck one of those shallow wells that was the fashion, those days, 
 and sold it for $6,000. John worked away until he got money 
 enough ahead to live in Meadville. Then he took the opportun- 
 ity and migrated to the county seat of Crawford county. Pa., and 
 thereafter rather dropped out of the ranks of the numerous Davis 
 famity in Youngsville. His interesting family received an edu- 
 cation in that college city that they never could have had if they 
 had remained in Youngsville. The members of the Davis family 
 remaining here have always been noted for their musical abilities, 
 the M. E. choir at one time being entirely composed of Davises. 
 It was named "the Davis choir." John's family was not an ex- 
 ception in that respect, one of his daughters being the organist 
 in Miller and Sibley's Baptist church choir at Franklin for many 
 years. It may naturally be supposed that a lady who can play a 
 pipe organ and give perfect satisfaction in the far-famed church 
 and Sunday-school patronized and financially sustained by those 
 
GOULD NOT GIVE HIS HILLSIDE AWAY 57 
 
 world-wide Christian workers, Miller and Sibley, is pretty well up 
 in the music line. Well, the genial John came from his Meadville 
 home, about two years ago, to visit his numerous relatives at 
 Youngsville, at the "ripe old age" of 92 years. One of his relatives 
 was his "Aunt Prudence," but two years his junior. He told her 
 that he 'feared it would be their last visit. His fears were well 
 founded, as within the next year both were "sleeping the sleep 
 that knows no waking." 
 
 Reading a few days ago, concerning R. K. Hissam, the bank 
 president, reminded me of a conversation that I had with Rev. 
 Mr. Hissam, who owned an oil farm straight across the river from 
 Sistersville, in the state of Ohio. He gave me a short history of 
 his oil career. He was a Methodist Episcopal minister and years 
 ago was a "circuit rider" on both sides of the Ohio river. ^ The 
 country stands on edge in that section, and as Rev. Mr. Hissam 
 weighs over 300 pounds, riding up and down these mountains was 
 very laborious for both himself and his horse, the horse in partic- 
 ular, and he concluded to make a change. He bought 200 acres 
 of sidehill land, a mile from the river, on the Ohio side, and became 
 a Buckeye farmer. A year or two convinced him that he was not 
 intended for a farmer— certainly not for a farmer with land that 
 stood edgeways. He then tried to sell his farm. Now came "the 
 tug of war." By hunting high and low he could find no ma,n 
 anxious enough for farming such a hillside willing to give half the 
 amount he gave for it. In other words he could not give it away. 
 He was in for a farmer's life, and he settled down to his fate. Then 
 oil was found at Sistersville, W. Va., and oil operators found that 
 the oil belt did not run with the windings of the Ohio river, but 
 that it ran straight across the river, through Mr. Robison'^s 600 
 acre farm about a mile and then through Rev. Mr. Hissam's 200 
 acre farm. The reverend gentleman did not have to look after 
 buyers for his farm after that. He leased it to an oil company at 
 a good royalty, and when I talked to him his income was about 
 $500 a day, with oil at 60 cents per barrel, and no wells drilled ex- 
 cept protection wells half way around the 200 acres. ^ I don't 
 know what his income was when the rest of the protection wells 
 were drilled and all the center of the 200 acres, and oil at $1.75 per 
 barrel. James McCray had nearly such an experience. Just be- 
 fore Petroleum Centre, Pa., became a proHfic oil town, "Jim" 
 owned a farm there of about 200 acres. About 50 acres was a very 
 rocky sidehill. He did not value it enough to pay taxes on it. 
 He paid a surveyor for the work of surveying off this 50 acre piece, 
 made out the papers and went to Franklin and put it on the "un- 
 
58 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 seated list." The county treasurer learned that there was an 
 error in the transaction, and he refused to sell it as "unseated" 
 land, and dropped it from his list and it fell back into "Jim's" 
 hands again. Soon after the "Maple Shade" well, with its 1000 
 barrels a day, was struck. When J. S. McCray related this cir- 
 cumstance to me he had leased this rocky sidehill, in one acre 
 leases, at $3,000 bonus and half the oil. Oil at that time was 
 bringing $3.00 a barrel. His income from this 50 acres of "unseat- 
 ed land," not sold for taxes, was $5 a minute, — night and day, 
 Sundays included, all the year around. Here the old saying comes 
 in play, "It is better to be born lucky than rich." 
 
 In these articles I spoke of working for Smith & Allison in their 
 lumber yard in Oil City, one summer. I have told of Mr. McCray's 
 streak of luck. In a very small way, I had a littile streak of luck 
 in the early winter of that year. Now this little sketch will look 
 insignificant compared to the one just related above, but it was 
 luck all the same. After I finished up my summer's work among 
 the board shanties of Oil City I came home to Youngsville and 
 bought a couple of "creek pieces" of boards and a boat, such as 
 was used to run oil out of oil Creek, in bulk, at that time. When 
 ready to start from Brokenstraw eddy I made common cause with 
 J. C. and D. Mead, two brothers who had been in the lumber bus- 
 iness as partners for many years, but at the time mentioned above 
 were operating for oil at McClintockville, a mile above Oil City. 
 
 I hitched onto their raft and was accompanied by one of the 
 brothers to Oil City. We sold out our lumber and oil boat. Then 
 one of the brothers went on to Pittsburg and sent me back after a 
 few creek rafts that I had formerly engaged and had come out of 
 the Brokenstraw creek on a sudden rise of water. We were to be 
 partners in this last mentioned deal. When I arrived at the Bro- 
 kenstraw eddyl found the other brother in possession of the lumber 
 I had engaged. Of course he knew nothing of my claims to the 
 promise of this lumber and ignored my claim to it. The fault was 
 with the former owner of the lumber in not telling this brother up 
 here what he had done. I finally said, "Am I out of this deal ?" 
 The answer was, "You were never in." Well, as rough oil country 
 lumber was nearly as scarce as hen's teeth that year, and I had 
 promised Smith & Allison the lumber that I had engaged, and that 
 had slipped out of my hands as slick as oil, I felt somewhat blue — 
 not the "blue" that the raftsmen in general were afflicted with, 
 but the real sober kind. As I stood on the bank of the old Alle- 
 gheny, with no pleasant thoughts passing through my mind, I 
 cast my eyes in the direction of the upper end of the Brokenstraw 
 
COULD NOT GIVE HIS HILLSIDE AWAY 59 
 
 eddy. There I saw a vision that roused my drooping spirits. A 
 half dozen httle creek rafts were tied to the bank. I soon found 
 the owner. I traveled five miles the next morning and soon be- 
 came the proprietor of those rafts, which were loaded with nice 
 pine shingles. One day's run put this lumber safely into Oil City. 
 It was the night before Christmas and the river was covered with 
 slush a foot deep from shore to shore Christmas morning. If I 
 had been one day later I would not have got that much needed 
 lumber into market that winter — perhaps never — as the ice inthe 
 spring might have swept it away. I settled with Smith & Allison 
 in the evening after I landed the lumber and started for Youngs- 
 ville at 4 a. m. Christmas morning, my route being up Oil creek, 
 creeping along the shore of the creek in places between the high 
 mountain and the water's edge. When daylight came I had 
 reached "Tar farm," and had enjoyed a warm and well cooked 
 breakfast at the hotel. Was not that rather a ticklish job — trav- 
 eling up along the fearfully rough bank — part of the time through 
 woods and darkness all alone, and liable to a holdup any minute 
 by footpads? A man had been murdered a few nights before on 
 this path, within the limits of Oil City, for the few dollars in cash 
 he carried in his pockets. The spot was near the tunnel of the 
 Lake Shore railroad and several holdups had taken place in dif- 
 ferent parts of the new oil country a short time before my Christ- 
 mas morning's walk. As there were no policemen to protect the 
 lone traveler in those early days, I confess I felt slight misgivings 
 concerning my personal safety, as I was carrying the price of my 
 raft and shingles in paper money in my pockets — not, as it would 
 be nowadays, in a check which no thief could use. After break- 
 fast I made my way up, up, and to the Shaffer farm, where the 
 terminal of the railroad was located at that time, and took a glad 
 seat in a comfortable coach, and I found myself enjoying my 
 Christmas dinner under my own rooftree. Now, reader, can you 
 see any good luck about this trip ? Perhaps you can better und- 
 erstand the buoyancy of my feelings if I tell you I doubled 
 my money by that one day's run on the raging Allegheny, The 
 reason is apparent. Winter was so near at hand that the man 
 that I bought the lumber of feared to run the lumber when such 
 slush as I have been writing about was liable to tie up navigation 
 for the winter at any hour. Consequently, he gave me a low price 
 for taking the risk of rafting so far out of season. Now, what do 
 you think of my luck, 
 
60 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A PUBLIC SPIRITED AND SUCCESSFUL EDITOR. 
 
 These chapters would not be complete without a reference to one 
 of the most lively, energetic and public spirited men to be found in 
 the oil regions. This man comm.enced in his younger days as a 
 writer from the oil towns. A visit to a dozen towns a day, and a 
 letter sent from each town, to the lucky paper that had him for a 
 correspondent, was just a play spell for him. He soon developed 
 into an oil scout — a very important part of the oil business in the 
 early days of oildom — and the new well that came in without a 
 diagnosis from his eagle eyes, was far away, indeed, and had a good 
 dark hiding place in some swamp, or far-off section. This man, 
 to make a long story short, kept on rising until he owns and edits 
 the only paper on earth that gives a complete account of the oil 
 business. About the first literature to meet the eye of the writer 
 of "Old Times in Oildom" as he has stepped into hundreds and 
 hundreds of oil derricks, is this man's newspaper. In the oil busi- 
 nessit is regarded as indespensible, all the way from the million- 
 aire owner^ of many wells to the poorest pumper. 
 
 As showing the enterprise of this man it is only necessary to 
 mention that he bought and placed in his large establishment one 
 of the first linotypes ever used out of the great cities of New York 
 and Chicago. To show how he is regarded by his fellow workers 
 in the newspaper field it is only necessary to mention that he was 
 one of the first presidents of the International League of Press 
 clubs. With all this he is a model of modesty. If he was aware 
 of my writing this he would soon draw his blue pencil through this 
 scribble of mine. Well, reader, you already know the name of the 
 paper, and the editor. But fearing that this may fall into the 
 hands of some backwoods reader, in this wide world of ours — some 
 one who knows little or nothing of journalism and the wide, wide 
 world, I'll proceed to give the name The name of the paper is the 
 Oil City Derrick, and the name of the editor is P. C. Boyle. My 
 first acquaintance with Mr, Boyle was at the hanging of young 
 Tracy, at Sniethport, Pa. Tracy had made a lengthy statement, 
 and left it with his lawyer — not to be read until after the hanging. 
 Mr, Boyle was then a correspondent of the Titusville Herald. 
 Many other correspondents were there from the New York Herald, 
 New York Tribune, New York World and other papers. Their 
 fingers were itching for this statement. Immediately after the 
 
A SUGCESSFUL EDITOR 61 
 
 execution Mr. Boyle hurried to Tracy's lawyer and borrowed the 
 document, telling the lawyer that he wanted to copy it. The last 
 train for the day was ready to leave. Mr. Boyle made all haste to 
 the depot, and sent the story by express to the Titusville Herald, 
 which had column after column of this "confession" the next 
 morning, and the big New York correspondents were obliged to go 
 to the Herald for their "news," one day late. 
 
 Venango county people have all heard of Judge Cross, of Clin- 
 tonville. I am now going to tell about something that happened 
 long before the Drake well was thought of. I tell this to show what 
 a wonderful memory some people have. About 50 years ago I 
 traveled all one summer with a concert company. In the meander- 
 ings of our musical aggregation we struck Franklin — that "Nurs- 
 ery of Great Men." Our show held forth two nights in the old 
 Presbyterian church. And, by the way, I engaged the use of 
 that church of "Plumb" McCalmont, the then brilliant young 
 lawyer and afterwards the greatest temperance advocate in West- 
 ern Pennsylvania. Mr. McCalmont was a genial gentleman. Even 
 then he made the green young fiddler and showman feel right at 
 home as he tramped along with him to a back street to show him 
 the capacity of the old red clap-boarded church. Judge Cross was 
 one of the associate judges of Venango county at that time. Ac- 
 companied by his daughter he was attending court that week. 
 They stopped at the same hotel with our famous concert troupe 
 of two violins, two singers and one melodeon. Both nights the 
 judge and his daughter attended our musical entertainments. 
 Twenty years after that I went down to Pittsburg as an oar puller 
 on a lumber raft and came back by stage. The route led through 
 Clintonville. When nearing the little town I asked the stage driv- 
 er if Judge Cross lived there. He said: "Yes, he is now post- 
 master." I made this remark in the hearing of the stage full of 
 passengers: "I saw the judge 20 years ago at Franklin and have 
 not seen him since." The stage driver repHed in this wise: "If 
 he saw you 20 years ago he will know you now." I told the driver 
 that could not be as when I saw the judge I was dressed fit for a 
 showman — a great contrast between my clothes then and now. 
 "I am returning from '& trip down the river' with old dirty clothes 
 and have slept in a raft shanty bunk with nothing but straw for a 
 bed for the last eight nights and I am 20 years older, 20 years 
 dirtier and 20 years raggeder." The driver said: "That makes 
 no difference. If Judge Cross ever sees any man, woman or child 
 once he will know them if he ever sees them again. Come in and 
 wait while he changes the mail and when he sees you he will know 
 
62 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 you." When the stage drew up to the door of the judge's store 
 in which was the postofhce I walked into the store and took a seat 
 on the farthest end of the counter. The whole stage load of 
 passengers had become so much interested that all followed me 
 into the store and stood around as very much interested spectators 
 awaiting the result. The judge sat behind the boxes busily sort- 
 ing the mail. He inadvertently cast his eyes in my direction and 
 immediately exclaimed: "Isn't your name Brown ?" Then a 
 big roar of laughter came from the stage load of passengers, and 
 the stage driver claimed a victory. 
 
 I will say a few words about the old Noble & Delamater well, 
 near Pioneer, on Oil creek. What I am going to relate many old 
 people already know, some middle-aged people know about it, but 
 not many young people have heard of it. When the well was 
 drilled in it flowed at an average of nearly 1,500 barrels a day for 
 the first year. The price of oil was $14 per barrel — no wonder the 
 proprietors started two banks, one in Erie and another in Mead- 
 ville. The well was drilled on the very edge of the lease. The 
 adjoining lease holder thought he could plainly see a ''scoop" and 
 lost no time in putting up a derrick, nearly touching the Noble & 
 Delamater rig. He soon had a neighboring well in close proxim- 
 ity to the big gusher. The theory is that the Noble & Delamater 
 well struck a crevice in the rock. In other words, the crevice was 
 composed of one crack in a solid rock, with the oil flowing through 
 it. Be that as it may, the cute business man that tried to tap the 
 source of the Noble & Delamater fortune did not even grease his 
 drilling rope. This shows the uncertainty of the oil business. And 
 about a mile from this great money maker occurred an exemplifi- 
 cation of the uncertainty of keeping money when once in your 
 possession. Mr. Benninghoof, whose farm was second to none in 
 the production of oil, bought a safe to store his immense piles of 
 greenbacks in, thereby saving him many long trips to town to de- 
 posit the burden of cash, which poured in upon him daily. While 
 quietly seated at his farmhouse table, surrounded by his wife and 
 happy farmer sons and daughters, a gang of ruffian robbers entered 
 and, at the point of many revolvers, they were obhged to watch 
 and see their honest cash carried off— by the $100,000— by the 
 lowest pieces of humanity that God ever permitted to walk the 
 earth. 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT GAS 63 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT GAS. 
 
 In these chapters I have said but little about gas. In fact I tell 
 little in these chapters that would permit them being called "Old 
 Times in Gasdom," instead of "Old Times in Oildom." Just think 
 a moment — those of our readers who were on earth when the first 
 big flow of gas was struck at Titus ville on the Jonathan Watson 
 farm. The first big flow of gas was not worth ten cents; not good 
 for anything in fact but to scatter the nice flowing yellow oil to the 
 four points of the compass. For years after that the gas from the 
 many wells in the oil region was more of a nuisance than a benefit. 
 It caused considerable expense. The owners of the wells were 
 obliged to buy iron pipes to carry the gas to a safe distance from 
 the well, where it was burned, to prevent the mischief it might 
 do. x\nd mischief it did do in hundreds of cases. It killed the 
 lamented Henry R. Rouse, and several others with him at the 
 same time, besides disfiguring for life a score or more. Many 
 lives have been lost and much property destroyed before this vapor 
 was finally bridled by the ingenuity of man. The operators in 
 Butler and other sections soon found a safe way to destroy this 
 terror. They laid a pipe, as described, touched a match to the 
 gas, thereby destroying its power to kill. I stood on a high em- 
 inence in Butler county one night, and counted 63 great gas torches 
 high up in the air. It was a grand sight. But oh! the millions 
 of money that was vanishing, all unawares to mankind. Even 
 "Cal" Payne, who at that time lived in his big new house, at the 
 city of Butler, was doing his full share in destroying one of the 
 best servants of mankind ever known. I guess he knows some- 
 thing about it now, as he sits on the throne and gives directions in 
 regard to this vapor, as it lights millions of homes with a brighter 
 light than oil, and softer light than electricity. And more than 
 that — it cooks millions of meals, and good housewives have only 
 to strike a match, and one match may even suffice for all winter. 
 My own little town of Youngsville would be in comparative dark- 
 ness if not for this mischievous gas. Instead of a dim flickering 
 street lamp, as in nights of old, we now have street lamps on nearly 
 ever}^ corner and one bright light greets another all over the bor- 
 ough. The Forest Gas company leads this once uncontrollable 
 stuff, in iron pipes, from away over the Allgheny river, in the 
 wilds of Forest county, to nearly every room in nearly every house 
 
64 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 in Youngsville. All stores and public places are a bright blaze of 
 light. Did you ever think of the triple benefit of this excellent 
 illuminant. First it saves you from straining your eyes while 
 reading at night; second, it saves much hard work in cleaning 
 lamps; and third it saves, a vast amount of wood chopping and 
 whittling shavings every time a little fire is started. People with- 
 in range of the gas are apt to forget to be thankful every day that 
 gas was struck in their time and that it was not postponed until 
 another generation. And I must not forget to say that another 
 great benefit is derived from this source. The young timber, in- 
 stead of being cut up for fire wood, is allowed to grow up into 
 high priced lumber all over the gas producing region. 
 
 The great ruler of the universe — God — will provide for future 
 generations. This is only one of the many benefits that will be 
 vouchsafed to the millions of people who will come to fill our tracks 
 after we have traveled that unreturnable journey. Great is gas, 
 and it came from small beginnings. 
 
 When oil was stored in large iron tanks to a greater extent than 
 it is since the Standard Oil company commenced the business of 
 transporting it directly from the wells to the refineries, lightning 
 played a conspicuous part in depleting the producer's bank ac- 
 count. Now and then, a tank is struck by lightning, even yet, 
 but a good share runs to the refineries or to the seacoast safely 
 under ground in iron pipes, free from danger from lightning. I 
 have seen a great many tanks burning after being struck by lightn- 
 ing and the most dangerous one of the lot that I have ever seen 
 was one at Monterey, Clarion county, Pa., about 28 years ago. Near 
 a half dozen large tanks, of about 28,000-barrels capacity, stood 
 on the left bank of the Allegheny river at Monterey. They stood 
 on a side-hill, about 40 rods from the railroad tracks and the river. 
 One morning during a heavy thunder storm lightning struck one 
 of the tanks and there was a wicked blaze immediately. It burned 
 all day and in the evening a carload of us traveled five miles in a 
 chartered car on the Allegheny Valley railroad to see the tremend- 
 ous big black blaze. At this time I was a reporter for the Erie 
 Daily Dispatch, and I went with the crowd for the purpose of re- 
 porting this oil fire. A couple of hundred people, both men and 
 women, had gathered about this great blaze and about 5 o'clock 
 in the evening, the overflow that always comes when a full tank 
 of oil burns about half way down, came, and rivers of burning oil 
 started down the sidehill. The volume before spreading was 
 about four feet high. For some unaccountable reason, I happened 
 to be below, right in the way of this burning oil. All the 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT GAS 65 
 
 others happened to be off at one side, where they easily got out 
 offthe range of the burning fluid. I was the only one who had a 
 nip-and-tuck race with the flames. I ran slantingly across the 
 side-hill towards a piece of woods. I came to a rail fence which I 
 climbed on the double quick and dodged into the woods. As I 
 went under the trees the blaze from the burning oil struck the tops 
 of the trees over my head with an ugly roar. As I ran the heat 
 struck my back v/ith great force and I was quite strong in the be- 
 lief that there would soon be one less reporter for the Erie Daily 
 Dispatch. But as was my luck, when I struck the edge of the 
 woods I found a rise in the ground that turned the oil straight 
 down the side-hill, leaving a breathless correspondent sitting on a 
 log, thanking God for a deliverance from sudden death. This was 
 a fire to be remembered, as it cleared a couple of acres of woodland 
 between the oil tanks and the railroad. The burning oil poured 
 down the hill, devouring green trees and everything it came to. 
 It swept the Allegheny Valley railroad tracks, stopping trains for 
 a day or two, burned a planing m.ill, a lumber yard, several dwell- 
 ing houses and a barn — then poured a great burning stream into 
 the river — a stream Vv^hich spread from shore to shore and floated 
 Pittsburgward. It was a strange sight indeed to see that broad 
 expanse of fire towering high and moving down the old Allegheny 
 on top of the water. 
 
 I began this chapter by speaking of gas. I am reminded by this 
 Monterey fire of the Wilcox (Pa.) burning well. Here was anoth- 
 er gas freak. I and three others drove four miles from the Wilcox 
 hotel to see the famous burning well. We were amply rewarded 
 for the trip. When we arrived it was dark. Every seven minutes, 
 without fail, the gas would throw the oil and water nearly twice 
 as high as the derrick. Each time when the flow would come, a 
 man with a long pole, having an oiled rag on the end of it, would 
 reach out the full length of this pole and set fire to the oil and gas. 
 The gas would throw an eight inch stream far up into the air. The 
 water would form itself into a barrel shape, and the gas and oil 
 would go straight up this round tunnel, all ablaze, entirely encir- 
 cled by the water. Then the water would spread and fall in beau- 
 tiful spray, forming ail colors of the rainbow. Such a sight taking 
 place every seven minutes cannot be described by my weak pen. 
 This free show has long since gone into ''innocuous desuetude." It 
 is doubtful if ever a counterpart of this wonderful Wilcox well will 
 ever be seen again. This is an age of wonders, and perhaps some- 
 thing will turn up in this picturesque line that will excell the wond- 
 ers of the burning well at Wilcox. But, I say again, it is doubtful. 
 
66 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 YOUNGSVILLE'S PROSPECTS OF OIL AND GAS. 
 
 It is rumored that parties from Oil City are quietly leasing land 
 around the Allegheny sulphur springs, about one mile south of 
 Youngs ville, with the intention of giving this territory a thorough 
 test. I have already mentioned the small wells about Youngs- 
 ville. I left off a description of the work that has been done along 
 the Brokenstraw creek, between Youngsville and Irvineton. Twen- 
 ty years ago five wells were drilled within a distance of two miles. 
 All produced more or less oil, but not quite enough in the minds of 
 the different owners to justify the expense of pumping them. It 
 takes quite a good well to pay the expense of pumping one well, 
 but when a dozen small wells are pumped by one engine the case 
 is different. No two wells have ever been hitched together in 
 Youngsville and vicinity, although there are about a dozen of 
 them. A "second crop" operator could probably make money by 
 getting control of a half dozen or more of these and harnessing 
 them together. The owners of a majority of these wells contented 
 themselves by sand-pumping the well until they got a wagon 
 load. Then they would drive to Warren refinery and sell it. But 
 I am wandering from my subject — the five wells along the Broken- 
 straw creek. One of the five was owned by A. McKinney and 
 others. It produced about two barrels a day by flowing. The 
 owners put up a 250-barrel tank to receive the oil. The well flowed 
 at intervals until there was about 150 barrels of oil in the tank — a 
 wooden one. Then came the great flood when so many lost their 
 lives at Oil City and Titusville. The Brokenstraw creek went 
 over its banks doing about $200,000 damage in the Brokenstraw 
 valley. The tremendous rush of water swept everything off this 
 lease— tank of oil, and all. That was the last work done on that 
 lease to this day. But the well flows occasionally — up to the pres- 
 ent date. The oil is not saved, however. Some day the well may 
 be cleaned and tested. This same company drilled a well about 
 200 rods above the one just spoken of and it was nearly a mate for 
 it. I, with my own eyes, saw the above mentioned well flow about 
 three barrels of oil into a wooden tank in the space of 15 minutes 
 after being "shut in" two days. Although this was the time of 
 the great flood this last named well has continued to flow and 
 many a wagon load has been drawn to the Warren refineries from 
 it. Now we come along up the creek a few dozen rods and another 
 
YOUNGSVILLE'S PROSPECTS 67 
 
 well has about the same history only the oil that it flows has not 
 been saved. Then we come along up about 60 rods and we find 
 the most abused well in the lot. It tried to be so ething but the 
 supeiintendent "shut up shop" when it did not prove to be a great 
 gusher without cleaning out the quicksand that gathered with oil 
 ar.d gas in fair quantities in the hole. At the west end of this two 
 miles of wells, with not a dry hole, is a vast expanse of territory 
 which has never been tested. 
 
 I recently read a com^munication in the Oil City Derrick from the 
 Rev. P. S. G. Bissell, concerning his father's claim to the honor of 
 drilling the first oil well. Then I read in the Derrick the editorial 
 comment on the letter. I saw the Drake well the second day after 
 oil was struck. I have seen George H. Bissell many times at Titus- 
 ville. I have stopped at the same hotel with him, conversed with 
 him, and I always found him to be a very agreeable gentleman 
 and a strong believer in the great future of the oil business, but I 
 never heard his name mentioned as the discoverer of the first oil 
 v/ell. It was Drake, Drake, Drake, on all sides there at Titusville, 
 but never once Bissell — so far as I ever heard. The name of Colon- 
 el E. L. Drake has been a fireside word the whole world over. How 
 many of the young people at the present time, have ever heard of 
 George K. Bissell? The intelligent business men who furnished 
 the money to pay for the fine memorial in Titusville cemetery are 
 not likely to make a mistake and put the monument over the 
 wrong man. If George Washington's monument had been named 
 Thomas Jefferson's, it would have looked funny. To my mind, 
 the editorial in the Derrick relating to Queen Isabella and Mr, Bis- 
 sel did not go far enough. There was quite a difference between 
 the two. Queen Isabella did not drop Christopher, but continued 
 to furnish the "dingbats" until the discovery was made. She did 
 not let the burden fall on a Fletcher or a Wilson, as did the men 
 who are now trying to take the honors away from Drake. 
 
 How things have changed since I was a boy! I saw this country 
 when it was, you might say, "a howling wilderness." Tall pine 
 trees darkened the country in places, as far as the eye could reach. 
 A large part of it belonged to the Huidekopers of Meadville, Pa.- 
 Each quarter sessions of court at Warren two of the brothers would 
 drive in a covered carriage to Warren on Monday and write con- 
 tracts and deeds all the week. All the people in this section of the 
 country thought the Huidekopers "some punkins." Everybody 
 tipped their hats when they met the Huidekopers driving their fine 
 team of m.atched horses hitched to a shiny covered carriage. A 
 man in a covered buggy those days, looked bigger than a man in 
 
68 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 an automobile does nowadays. And the price — there was but 
 little difference between giving the timberland away as at present 
 and selling it at only $1.50 an acre. Think of good soil for farming, 
 covered with the finest of pine timber, bringing the magnificent 
 price of $1.50 per acre ! I myself borrowed $150 of that kind-heart- 
 ed and wealthy gentleman, John McKinney, often called the 
 "Uncle to Standard Oil," and paid Huidekopers for one hundred 
 (100) acres of good land, covered with the best of pine timber, 
 and one year from the time of borrowing the money had 
 paid back the money. And the Good Samaritan that he al- 
 ways was, would not take one cent of interest. Was not that get- 
 ting land on easy terms? 
 
 The Huidekopers had their own troubles, as "all the sons of 
 men" have in this business world. Timber thieves were numerous. 
 Nearly every man that made shaved shingles helped himself to all 
 the pine timber that he manufactured into shingles the year around. 
 The Huidekopers tried to guard against this wholesale robbery by 
 engaging men who lived in the vicinity to watch their property. 
 This plan did not even retard the shingle making business. The 
 many shingle makers never lost a day's work after the appointment 
 of the watchers. The watchers seemed to have enough of business 
 of their own on hand, without meddling with the shingle making of 
 their neighbors — at least not according to my best recollection, 
 was a man ever arrested for stealing timber. The woods were full 
 of shingle makers. There were no shingles sawed in those days. 
 Shingle mills were unknown. The shingles were all split out with 
 a frow and maul, then shaved on a "shaving horse" and packed 
 into half-thousand bunches, and they were ready for the Pittsburg 
 market. Nearly the whole output of shingles in this then vast 
 lumber country was hauled to Brokenstraw eddy on bob-sleds in 
 the witner time, and then piled on board rafts in the spring and 
 run to Pittsburg and sold to the farmers all around the Iron City, 
 and far into the Buckeye state. Not all stopped in Pittsburg, as 
 many of these rafts ran the whole length of the Ohio river. Cin- 
 cinnati got quite a share of this shingle trade. But I am wander- 
 ing from this stealing trade subject. This cutting Huidekopers' 
 pine timber became so respectable and safe that a man was thought 
 just as much of when working up stolen timber as if it was his own. 
 It was a common occurrence for a couple of men to go into the 
 woods, build a shanty on tluidekoper land, and live in the shanty 
 all summer and pick out the best pine trees and make them into 
 shingles, without even a thought of wrong doing or of being ar- 
 rested for theft. In fact, these men often stole the timber from 
 
YOUNGSVILLE'S PROSPECTS 69 
 
 each other, after the first man had cut the timber lengths, ready 
 for the frow. In one case amusement comes in, A certain man 
 living about a mile from Youngsville hired another man to help 
 him saw and split into bolts a goodly pile of this timber, for his own 
 use when he would get the time to work it up. A short time after 
 a neighbor came to him and asked the loan of this ready cut timb- 
 er for a short time, or until he could get time to steal and cut enough 
 to pay it back. The man that owned the timber refused to lend it 
 to his neighbor, as he was ready to commence the job of manufact- 
 uring the stuff into shingles. Then it was that the would-be bor- 
 rower, without a blush, made this remark: "I have already made 
 that timber into shingles and sold them, but I will cut more on 
 the same lot and pay you back soon." He never made his prom- 
 ise good, and as it would be a delicate and dangerous business for 
 one thief to arrest another, the transaction dropped right here. 
 All the satisfaction ever gotten out of it was that the thief of the 
 first part seemed to enjoy himself in telling his neighbors what a 
 mean man the thief of the second part was. The writer of this 
 got this nearly unb-elievable story from the man who stole and 
 sawed the timber. Both men have long since gone to put in their 
 claims to heavenly mansions not covered with pine shingles. 
 
 This stealing timber business is not guess work with nie._ I 
 once bought two tall and large pine trees from Judge William 
 Siggins. This was a legitimate transaction. The stealing comes 
 right in as soon as I can get this pencil to it. I hired a neighbor 
 to help me cut the trees down, saw them into "double lengths," 
 and pile them up, ready for hauling to our shingle shanty to be 
 manufactured into shingles. When the time came I yoked up 
 "Buck" and "Bright," the very faithful old ox team belonging to 
 my father, and hitched them to the woodenshod sled and drove 
 two miles into the forest where I expected to get a load of my tim- 
 ber, but I didn't. Not a bolt was to be seen. Then I began to 
 look for tracks. I found sled tracks in abundance, but a lack of 
 timber. I followed the sled tracks about a mile and found my 
 timber snugly piled up by the side of another man's shanty. The 
 man was contentedly smoking a pipe and shaving shingles. _ He 
 looked up — without any appearance of embarrassment — with a 
 smile and a hearty "good morning." I soon broached the sub- 
 ject nearest my heart and inquired the cause of my timber being 
 piled at the wrong shanty. He answered in these words: "I got 
 in a hurry for some shingles and took yours, I will cut it on the 
 Huidekopers' land and pay it back to you right away." I told him 
 that I must have those shingles and as he had made 4,000 a,lready 
 
70 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 and a large hill would have to be climbed before reaching my shan- 
 ty, I would give him the "going price" for making up the balance 
 of the timber, about 16,000 shingles, and delivering them at the 
 Brokenstraw creek raft landing. He readily agreed to my propo- 
 sition. But when I came around for a settlement, he had worked 
 up all the timber and sold all the shingles, and pocketed all the 
 money. In place of putting the sheriff on him immediately, I 
 took his promise to replace them in a fixed time. He never paid 
 me a dollar, and I was green enough to let it stand until he, too, 
 crossed over where no sheriff annoys. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BAD OIL SPECULATION. 
 
 My experiences were not extensive as an oil operator. My first, 
 last and only venture in drilling a well was on Cherry Run, in 
 Rouseville. When the oil business was yet in a very crude state, 
 J. C. and D. Mead and I, formed a co-partnership, and leased one 
 acre of the old Smith farm, at Cherry Run, so close to Rouseville 
 that it was really a part of the village. Having a majority vote of 
 "the company," I was elected as superintendent. This was mak- 
 ing a superintendent out of raw material. But no more raw than 
 a majority of the bosses in that early day of the oil business. Sup- 
 erintendents that had learned the business were not to be found, 
 as the business had not been learned by any living man. It was 
 "cut and try" with the best of operators at that time. I am very 
 sure it was "cut and try" with my company. I am quite certain as 
 I was the "cutter and tryer." And there is no use in postponing 
 the acknov/ledgement that I was not a howling success at the 
 oil business. My first work required more muscle than brains. 
 The work consisted of chopping down a big white oak tree, on the 
 sidehill above Rouseville, and hewing out a sampson post. I did 
 about half the work on all the timber framing for our derrick and 
 engine house. But now comes in the brain work. After consulta- 
 tion with my partners who knew as little about the business as I 
 did, I bought an old boiler and a new engine. The boiler was some 
 what antiquated, and in shape and size it would compare favorably 
 with a 12 foot average saw log. One little "lackage" about this 
 boiler was the fact that it did not have a single flue in it, and it 
 showed weakness from the very start. After much tiibulation and, 
 
BAD OIL SPECULATION 71 
 
 vexation, and consultation with my partners in the venture, I con- 
 cluded to sell the old cylinder and replace it with an up-to-date 
 boiler. I forget the price of this new fangled boiler, full of flues, 
 but it took quite a little pile of notes on the "State Bank of Ohio" 
 to pay for it, and commence operations. The cost of coal was an 
 item that bore down hard on oil operators. We used Cranberry 
 coal, at $1.25 ber bushel, delivered at the well. This seems funny 
 now when all around us millions of feet of gas are being piped 
 away from the wells. It compares favorably with work that I 
 helped my father do^ when I was a boy. When clearing land for 
 farming we would girdle nice, green, pine trees, killing them, so 
 that they would not shade the crops, or cut beautiful clear stuff 
 red oak into logs, hitch oxen to them, haul them and roll 
 them up into ''log heaps," with much hard lifting, and burn them. 
 And this burning was no "fool of a job," as the timber was very 
 green and soggy. It needed punching up while burning, at very 
 short intervals. It required much attention for two or three days 
 and nights before the last embers were consumed. This same red 
 oak timber — if standing on the ground to-day, would bring S30 
 per thousand feet, without the owner touching it. We have two 
 large furniture factories in Youngsville which consume 20,000 
 or 30,000 feet of just such lumber daily. A part of it is now 
 brought by rail from West Virginia. 
 
 But let me get back to my oil business again. When this Cherry 
 Run well was finished, it had cost about $3,000. It was a fair 
 producer, about 10 barrels a day. Oil at that time was bringing 
 13 per barrel. But in the course of a year the output commenced 
 falling off, and as the Roberts torpedoes were beginning to make a 
 stir in the oil region, my partners asked me to go to Rouseville and 
 have a shot put in our well. I told them that I would go down 
 and_ attend to that shooting in 10 days. The Warren County 
 Agricultural Fair, of which I was chairman, was on hand, and I 
 did not propose to put "business before pleasure," but stayed by 
 the agriculturists until the end of that year's exhibition. One of 
 the Mead brothers became impatient with this delay, and went 
 down to Rouseville and sold out our lease at a rediculously low 
 figure to Mr. Nelson, a Philadelphia operator. This purchaser 
 immediately did what I should have done— had a, shot of glycerine 
 put in it. This shot brought the well up to 40 barrels a day, and 
 convinced Mr. Mead that he acted a little hastily in the premises. 
 If he had waited until the close of the county fair that glycerine 
 shot would have put quite a sum of money in our pockets, instead 
 of passing into Mr. Nelson's. We were haVing another well drilled 
 
72 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 on the other end of this acre which came in as good a producer. 
 But mv being so slow and Mead so fast deprived our company of 
 d. ing much in the way of oil operations. 
 
 The old times in the oil country were frequently enlivened by 
 fire getting started in the tinder-box houses forming all new oil 
 towns. I was running a lumber yard at Karns City at the time 
 that that quite noted town went up in smoke. I owned an opera 
 house, a building for a lumber office and Western Union telegraph 
 office, lumber yard and hotel, ail located in the lower end of 
 the town. Fire companies came from Millerstown, Petrolia, and 
 Parker City just in tim.e to stop the fire before it reached any of 
 my property. In fact, nearly every building in town was burned 
 except mine. I scored good luck for once. The fire started in a 
 little store. The proprietor was away from home. The story flew 
 fast that the man, a Hebrew, by the way, had been burned out 
 three times and had been insured every time. When the man 
 came home the next day an angry crowd met him on the street and 
 accused him of being the cause of their homes being in ashes. The 
 man turned white with fear in a m.oment and protested his inno- 
 cence. But his hearers were crazy m.ad and threatened him with 
 lynching. A rope was procured and preparations made to hang 
 him to the nearest tree. Just then the constable arrested him and 
 started with his prisoner for the lock-up. On the way to the lock- 
 up an amateur cowboy sent a rope whirling through the air three 
 times, but each time it failed to coil around the man's neck. I 
 never saw a lynching bee, but I might have seen one if that rope 
 had caught on around the man's neck, as lots of men were ready to 
 grab the end of the rope and run for the nearest tree. That night 
 a trial was had before 'Squire Stewart and the store proprietor was 
 sent to the Butler jail for safe keeping. He remained in jail a few 
 days and then caused the arrest of his captors for false imprison- 
 ment. He proved that he was in Clarion all day on the day of the 
 fire. He also proved that his wife's gold watch and chain and all 
 of his best clothes were burned, and that one child, through fright, 
 ran and concealed itself under a bed and was accidentally discov- 
 ered just in time to save it from a horrible death. The would-be 
 lynchers had to pay quite dearly for their cowboy play. 
 
 Although this fire swept the most of Karns City from the face of 
 Butler county, no lives were lost. But after all this, when a hotel 
 had been built near the depot of the Parker & Karns City railroad, 
 a terrible loss of life took place when the hotel burned — seven per- 
 ishing. The hotel people and two transient lodgers were burned. 
 But this was not as bad as the hotel fire at Chicora a short time be- 
 
H. P. KINNEAR AND THE I. O. O. F. 73 
 
 fore that, when eight people were cremated in one hotel, and many 
 m-ore injured. I was an eye witness to this holocaust. 
 
 If all the sudden and tragic deaths that have taken place in the 
 oil region since the Drake well was drilled, were mentioned, it 
 would fill a large sized book. Of the hundreds and hundreds of 
 lives lost by glycerine I will mention just one that took place over 
 on Bear Creek when the stuff let go with a jar that broke plate 
 glass windows in Parker City, two miles away over a hill. I ac- 
 cepted an invitation from a Mr. Stephenson to ride with him m 
 his buggy to the place indicated by the sound. When we reachep 
 the spot we found a great hole in the ground, about eight feet deed 
 and eight feet in diameter. About one half of a horse lay in the 
 road unscathed, cut as clean as it could be done with a knife. It 
 was the forward part of the animal that lay in the road cut 
 through the middle about half way between the fore legs and the 
 hind legs. The hind quarters were no where to be seen. Only a 
 little of the wagon could be found. Not a vestige of the well-shoot- 
 er could be discovered except a portion of the skin of his face. 
 That was found hanging on a bush about 20 rods away. One 
 wagon tire was driven through a hemlock tree a foot in diameter. 
 
 I might describe many other scenes that I have observed in the 
 torpedo line. I have stood in three different towns, and have seen 
 plate glass breaking, and falling onto the sidewalks, all caused by 
 glycerine magazines exploding— Butler, Willow Grove and Parker 
 City. Death followed in the wake of all these explosions. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 H. P. KINNEAR AND THE I. 0. O. F. 
 
 What changes come with time ! As I, with my mind's eye, look 
 back through the years, many things come to me that, to say the 
 least, are surprising. A few remarks about YoungsviUe lodge. No. 
 500, 1. 0. 0. F., will not be amiss. There were about 50 members 
 when I joined, a half century ago. Only one, besides myself, is a 
 member to-day— David McKee, of Corry, Pa. I am the only one 
 living within the vicinity of the lodge room. The Kmnears, Meads 
 Siggins, Johnsons, Blodgetts and others— all gone— either dropped 
 out of the order, left the town or have passed to the Grand Lodge 
 beyond. Reader, try and put yourself in my place. Think of 
 stepping into a lodge with over 200 members all iiiitiated since I 
 
74 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 was shown the secret workings of the order. Is it any wonder 
 that a gentleman Hving in this town recently published the alleged 
 fact that I had "long since passed the age of imbecility." The 
 gentleman himself is no "spring chicken," and if God lets him live 
 as long as he has let me live, he will not be one day younger than I 
 am now. 
 
 Several items are worth mentioning in "Old Times in Oildom" 
 concerning this lodge. Mr. Kinnear, who was the originator of 
 this lodge nearly 60 years ago, was the moving spirit in the business 
 of the lodge and all other movements for the upbuilding of Youngs- 
 viile. He was the representative of the lodge at the Grand Lodge 
 of Pennsylvania every year of its existence, from its organization 
 until he passed beyond all earthly things. He voted on the des- 
 tiny of No. 500 about 45 years. Mr. Kinnear was one of the go- 
 ahead men of his day. He held the office of sheriff of Warren 
 county for two terms; represented the county in the legislature 
 two terms; was one of the founders of Point Chautauqua; held the 
 triple position of chairman of the committee on Grand hotel, super- 
 intendent of the grounds of the association and treasurer from the 
 time' of the starting of this association up to the time of the de- 
 struction of the great summer resort by fire. To enumerate all the 
 achievements of this public spirited man for the interest of Youngs- 
 ville would take more space than can be spared. Suffice it to say 
 that he "builded better than he knew," for upon the foundation 
 that he laid the liveliest and best town of its size in western Penn- 
 sylvania stands to-day. Mr. Kinnear was president of the Youngs- 
 ville Savings Bank at the time of his death, 22 years ago. His 
 picture hangs on the wall of the lodge room and is a smiling remind- 
 er of the founder of the second lodge organized in Warren county. 
 The three story building, constructed of wood, is owned by the 
 lodge, and next year it will be replaced by a fine brick building of 
 modern design. Youngsville is proud of another man who has 
 been a credit to the place — the Hon. William H. Short, who is 86 
 years of age and who steps along the streets without the aid of a 
 cane. He has been a man of ability and business, a resident of 
 Youngsville since a boy. He has filled the offices of everything 
 that the borough of Youngsville could bestow upon him, besides 
 being president of Sugar Grove Savings bank for many years. 
 He was one of the directors of the far-famed Chautauqua founded 
 by the great Vincent, a member of the State Legislature, two terms, 
 and, last but not least, Mr. Shortt has filled the office of United 
 States consul to Cardiff, Wales. 
 
 Youngsville has many excellent business men of a younger 
 
H. P. KINNEAR AND THE I. 0. 0. F. 75 
 
 generation, but I am writing of ''old timers" and the younger men 
 must be left out for the present. 
 
 A little incident that came near being a big incident is this : I, 
 in partnership with William Davis, built a boat for the purpose of 
 sending out of Oil Creek, oil by the barrel, into Oil City. When 
 finished we floated it out into the river, preparatory to going to the 
 Hub of Oildom. When we were about to cut loose from Youngs- 
 ville 40 ladies came on board for a ride of three miles to Irvineton. 
 As it was a fiat bottomed boat, with no seating capacity, the ladies 
 were obliged to stand up during their ride. When nearing the 
 Irvineton mill dam, your humble servant, who had the distinction 
 of being pilot of the craft, discovered the disagreeable fact that the 
 water pouring over the dam was hardly deep enough to run the 
 boat over lengthwise ; so to make sure of not sticking on the high 
 dam, I plied my oar with much vigor until the boat was lengthwise 
 of the dam, thereby catching all the water in the creek from shore 
 to shore. The boat obeyed the rudder to perfection and the water 
 was found to be deep enough to carry the boat over. But now 
 comes the sequel. The pilot never had this experience before, 
 always finding the water deep enough to run the boat endways. I 
 did not have forethought enough to let the ladies disembark, walk 
 past the dam, then run the light boat over the dam and land, tak- 
 ing them on again and out into the river eddy, but instead rushed 
 into danger. The boat alighted on the roaring and swirling water 
 on one edge coming up nearly full of water. The ladies all stood 
 in water knee deep, with a chance of the boat sinking any moment. 
 The weight of the ladies caused the boat to sink so deep that an 
 inch more would have let the water pour over the top. One inch 
 more and 40 ladies and 10 gentlemen would have been floundering 
 in 16 feet of water. As it was, by order of the pilot, they all stood 
 perfectly still until the water logged boat, loaded with feminine 
 humanity, slowly floated to more shallow water, where the boat- 
 load of fair ones waded ashore and were happily saved. The pilot 
 would have had many lives to answer for if that boat had been a 
 trifle more shallow, but a "miss is as good as a mile." 
 
 I never was troubled by ladies asking me for a boat ride after 
 that trip. Bad management has been the cause of many ships, 
 and many Hves being lost. Bad management would have had the 
 same effect in this case, only on a smaller scale. And I may as 
 well tell it all when I am about it. I am now living, and have been 
 for many years, in partnership with the best one of that lot of ladies, 
 but she has never invited me to take her boat riding since that 
 particular occasion. 
 
76 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Years ago, w en I was at Smethport, Pa., I witnessed the only 
 hanging of my lifetime. The readers of this will no doubt call to 
 mind the taking off by the rope route of Young Tracy, for the murd- 
 er of his sweetheart. The night before the hanging, I spent an 
 hour with W. Ed Marsh, a young lawyer of Corry, Pa., but who had 
 an- office in Smethport. The sheriff chanced to call on the young 
 Blackstone. We both tackled him for a ticket admitting us to the 
 jail, where the hanging was to take place. The sheriff was a very 
 kindly man, and told us that his tickets were all gone — to 12 wit- 
 nesses, 12 jurymen, several deputies, about 30 newspaper reporters 
 and a few friends, but if we would come to the front steps of the 
 court house at 2 p. m., he would come and open the door and let 
 us in. My only excuse for asking admission was that I was a cor- 
 respondent of the Titusville Herald, but as P. C. Boyle was the 
 regular travelling oil region correspondent for the same paper, and 
 had traveled in ahead of me, my chances seemed slim, for awhile. 
 Well, 2 p. m. next day found us eagerly awaiting the appearance 
 of the sheriff at the door. Ticket holders by the dozen — P. C. 
 Boyle among the number — came rushing along, and handed their 
 pasteboard to the guardian at the door, and passed on to the death 
 chamber. The limb of the law and myself stood on the stone steps 
 of the court house, with a battery of 3,000 pairs of eyes fixed upon 
 us, acting like a couple of little boys trying in some manner to gain 
 entrance to a show, "without money, and without price." 
 
 The situation seemed to work on Mr. Marsh's nerves and he said, 
 "Let us go, The sheriff has forgotten his promise to us and will 
 not be likely to open this door for us. It is now 10 minutes past 
 2." My answer was: "We have not forgotten our promise. We 
 are here as agreed upon. If we leave and he comes, we have brok- 
 en our promise. Let us do as we have agreed. That agreement 
 was to stay at this door until he comes to let us in." Every few 
 minutes my lawyer friend would renew his request and I would get 
 up new arguments why we should stay. After quite a delay the 
 sheriff, true to his word, opened the door and politely escorted us 
 to an advantageous standing place near the scaffold. We saw a 
 double hanging. Tracy passed within a few feet of us, with a 
 complacent face, and a priest on either side of him, trying to give 
 him spiritual comfort. And, indeed, he did not seem to harbor 
 any fears although death was staring him in the face. He stepped 
 boldly onto the scaffold and when the black cap was drawn over 
 his face and the trap was sprung his body shot down through the 
 opening, the rope became untied from his neck, and he fell nearly 
 on his cofl&n, which sat beneath the scaffold. Then he was pushed 
 
OIL REGION INHABITANTS " 77 
 
 back through the opening and another rope was adjusted by ex- 
 sheriff King and the trap was sprung the second time, and in a few 
 minutes he was.pronounced by the physician as dead. It did not 
 require a very long time to get the second rope around his neck, as 
 the sheriff had foresight enough to have the second rope, in case 
 the first one would not hold. A professional hangman, of Buffalo, 
 tied the knots on both ropes ; one held and the other did not. Not 
 very complimentary to his ''profession." When the second rope 
 was being adjusted Tracy made the remark, ''Jesus, Joseph and 
 Mary, save me." I was told by an old citizen of the town that 
 only one man had been hanged in McKean county before this and 
 this man showed exceeding coolness. When he was led onto the 
 scaffold he put one foot on the edge and let his weight on by de- 
 grees, before he would trust his whole weight upon it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV- 
 
 OIL REGION INHABITANTS. 
 
 In writing of "OldTimes^in Oildom" I have left^off until the 24th 
 chapter what should have come in the first article. I have, within 
 the last 31 years, organized 475 lodges (158 Good Templar lodges 
 and 317 insurance lodges) in New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, West 
 Virginia and Canada. More than half of these lodges were organ- 
 ized in the oil region, and let me say that no better people are found 
 anywhere than in the oil towns. The towns are made up in gen- 
 eral of the best hearted people in the world. They are intelHgent, 
 industrious, kind and good, and a majority are skilled workmen. 
 Go into any oil town and look at a crowd of greasy, dirty men. The 
 crowd is principally composed of pumpers, drillers, pipe line men, 
 telegraph operators, rig builders and representatives of other oc- 
 cupations. 
 
 Skill of the first order is required. The oil regions are princi- 
 pally made of educated and go-ahead people. The old drones are 
 not apt to dig out, and move into, and take up the activities of an 
 oil country life. They leave that life to the most energetic of their 
 children. True, there are people living in oil towns who are get- 
 ting old that commenced an oil country life many years ago. They 
 were young when they took up the business. As to the men mak- 
 ing provision for their famihes, but few die in the oil region leaving 
 their families destitute. 
 
78 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Many men die and leave more than enough money to bridge over 
 necessities. Many belong to several insurance lodges. It is a 
 common thing to find men carrying from $5,000 to $10,000 insur- 
 ance. Not only the married, but the single men, are insured. 
 About five years ago I organized three lodges in succession in But- 
 ler county — at West Sunbury, Middletown and Butler. While I 
 was at work in each town a single man was brought home dead 
 and one mother got $3,000, another got $5,000, and another got 
 $1,000. Each young man had named his mother, with the under- 
 standing that if he should ever get married the benefit certificate 
 should be changed in favor of his wife. One of those mothers that 
 I speak of came within a day of losing $3,000. Her son was killed 
 at an oil well just one day before he was to have been married. I 
 write this to show that many young men carry protection. A 
 young man who promises to shield and protect a young wife and 
 then dies and leaves her over a washtub to keep starvation away, 
 is looked upon as failing to do a duty towards a loved one, when he 
 could have protected her by putting a few cents into some lodge 
 treasury once a month. But I am getting away from what I 
 started out to tell. I wish to say to the readers that although 
 some bad characters inhabit the oil towns, that their number is 
 surprisingly small, considering the heterogeneous crowds which 
 naturally drift into a new oil town from all points of the compass 
 and from nearly all nationalities. It is a remarkable fact that 
 there are towns and tov^^ns where there never was a drop of oil 
 found that will outstrip the oil towns, two to one, in all kinds of 
 rascality and meanness. I think I have had an opportunity to 
 judge of this matter. During my 31 years' ra,mbling over the 
 states mentioned above, I never felt unsafe many times. 
 
 The first time was between Linesville, Venango county. Pa., and 
 Edenburg, Clarion county. Pa., near 30 years ago. It was on a 
 bright, shiny. Sabbath morning, that I left Linesville and took the 
 nearest road for Edenburg. I traveled along about two miles, by 
 pleasant farm houses, where all, to a lone traveler, looked happy 
 and serene. Birds were singing their best Sunday tunes, and all 
 nature seemed to be at rest. Then came a sudden change. The 
 pretty farms gave way to a dense thicket of oak and chestnut 
 underbrush. The road led down quite a steep hill, at the foot of 
 which stood an old, very old, two story log house. Where there 
 had been long ago glass in the windows, old hats, and any old thing 
 that could take the place of a light of window glass, did duty in the 
 way of keeping the wind and rain out. PJght opposite the old 
 castle was a cool crystal stream of spring water rippling into a 
 
OIL REGION INHABITANTS 79 
 
 horse trough. So inviting did this look to me that, although not 
 very thirsty, I could not pass such a clear cold stream of water un- 
 tasted. So I leaned over to the rippling waterfall and had just 
 absorbed a couple of swallows of water, when bedlam seemed to 
 have been let loose across the road in the old house. Although it 
 was the holy Sabbath day, profanity poured forth in its rankest 
 form, and a sound came to my ears resembling pots, kettles, chairs 
 and household furniture in general being hurled through the house. 
 I cut out the water drinking very suddenly, and took a glance 
 across the road, and there at a front window sat a man with a long 
 black mustache. He had an expression on his face that was any- 
 thing but reassuring to me. The man sat with his elbows on the 
 window sill, his face resting on his hands, and his eyes steadily 
 fixed on the lone traveler. I had on my ''Sunday-go-to-meeting" 
 clothes, a gold watch and chain, and a new handbag. It did not 
 take very long for the following reasoning to sHp through my mind: 
 People that would get up a Sunday morning's battle of both words 
 and fists, might take a notion to inspect my pockets and handbag. 
 Lodge organizers are very seldom worth robbing. But these peo- 
 ple did not know that, and I could not tell but what they might 
 take a notion into their heads to find out for themselves, so I put 
 a very unconcerned expression on my face, picked up my satchel 
 and started on my way without a parting look or word. The road 
 led up hill from this habitation, in the little narrow valley in the 
 woods, with dense brush on both sides of the road. I expected 
 every moment to see an investigating party step from this thick 
 underbrush into the road ahead of me. I did some pretty tall 
 Sunday walking up that mile long hill through the woods . And 
 how glad I was to reach the top of that hill, and see a beautiful 
 farm and farm house, and hear beautiful strains of music floating 
 out from a quartette of two brothers and two sisters, accompanied 
 by an organ. _ What a transformation— from the valley a mile 
 below, to a mile above. I called at this Christian home, and for 
 an excuse asked for a drink of v^^ater. The reader will remember 
 that I did not finish my last drink. The young people played and 
 sang their best hymns for the benefit of the lone organizer, and 
 after a pleasant hour, I resumed my lonely Sunday walk, and reach- 
 ed that busy oil town of Edenburg in due time. I said nothing 
 to my new found friends on the nice farm at the top of the hill about 
 their neighbors a mile below, and I am in ignorance to this day as 
 to who, or what kind of a family occupied that old two story log 
 house in the deep hollow, two miles on the road from Linesville to 
 Edenburg. 
 
80 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 The second rather alarming place that I struck was between 
 Frostburg and Byrom Station, in Forest county, Pa. The distance 
 is a little over a mile, and, like the last woods described, lined by 
 dense underbrush on both sides of the road. When I was nearly 
 half way through this piece of woods I saw at quite a distance ahead 
 of me a large man come from the brush into the middle of the road 
 and take a good look at me, and then step back out of my sight 
 into the brush. I put my watch and chain into my inside coat 
 pocket, so that no inducement in that hne would be held out, if 
 the big fellow turned out to be a robber. I put on as bold a front 
 as could be expected under the circumstances and trudged along. 
 When opposite to the place where I had seen him reconnoitering 
 I turned my eye around and beheld this giant, with a cowboy 
 mustache, standing in a path about two rods from the main road, 
 looking me square in the eye. As I did not want to form an inti- 
 mate acquaintance with a stranger adopting those tactics, I did 
 not even pass the time of day with him, and he proved to be as 
 "short on courtesy" as I, so I walked along, not showing any sign 
 of alarm, and, of course, I did not look around to show that I was 
 interested in him, and I never saw him again. He may be there 
 yet, as far as I know. I was perfectly safe all the time, but I did 
 not know it until I was safely out of that luxuriant underbrush. 
 The same God that has guided me in those hundreds of strange 
 places was with me then, but, with my dim vision, I could not see 
 this until distance proved it to me. I have often wondered why 
 this last man was there. I have thought that he was evading the 
 officers of the law and was keeping an eye out, but the fact that 
 he remained so near the road, instead of going a little farther back, 
 would disprove this theory. Then again, if he was there for the 
 purpose of robbery, why clid he not pitch into me. 
 
 And now I come to the third fright. About 16 years ago I was 
 walking down the Lake Shore railroad track, between Ashtabula 
 and Ashtabula harbor. As night came on I overtook four men 
 walking leisurely. As soon as I came up to them, and spoke, I 
 made up my mind that they were common tramps. My pleasant 
 "good evening" was answered in a very surly manner. My fears 
 got the better of me and I quickened my gait. There was a deep 
 cut in the road at that place, and the only way to get out of that 
 company was to outwalk the big lubberly fellows and reach a street 
 crossing, where steps could be found leading up to the wagon road. 
 The faster I would walk the faster the tramps would walk. When 
 I reached the wagon road there happened to be two or three teams 
 crossing at that time, and I skipped up the bank and mixed in 
 
PICKPOCKETS 81 
 
 with the crowd and I was safe from the tramps. Two weeks after 
 that time I read of a gang of tramps killing a man for his money at 
 that identical spot. I really think that this quartette of tramps 
 expected me to travel down the railroad and that they would "go 
 for me." I "showed the white feather," but I would rather show 
 "white feathers" while alive than have an undertaker show black 
 feathers at my funeral. 
 
 Anyhow I think I have proved my original assertion that, after 
 having worked up and organized 475 lodges, over half of them in 
 the oil regions, with only three little "scares" and no real attacks, the 
 oil country is not a very dangerous place in which to live. I have 
 a very warm spot in my heart for the oil country and its inhabitants. 
 When I say this, I praise a great many people, and they are getting 
 more and more numerous every day. _ Just think of it! From a 
 little spot here in western Pennsylvania, this business has spread 
 to New York, Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois, Texas, 
 Oklahoma, Indian Territory, California and Canada. Truly, oil 
 is a wonderful thing! 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PICKPOCKETS. 
 
 These chapters would not be complete without a mention of my 
 experiences in the pickpocket line. The first greenbacks that I 
 ever saw, when they were first issued, were stolen by a light-finger- 
 ed and low-lived rascal in Pittsburg, Pa. I, in partnership with 
 Nelson Mead and Hiram Belnap, floated a raft to Pittsburg and 
 sold it and received $425 to bind the bargain. My partners trust- 
 ed me to carry that package of new and bright bills home, while 
 they agreed to stay until the raft of boards was delivered on the 
 south side, when the balance of the money would be paid to them. 
 I was obliged to sit in the union depot until 1:30 a. m. before a 
 train left for up the river. I bought a ticket and took my seat in 
 the waiting room and, like the greenhorn that I was, fell asleep, and 
 waked up when the starting of the train was announced. I took 
 my seat in the coach and when I felt for my pocketbook it had 
 disappeared, together with the $425 of the handsomest paper I 
 had seen up to that date. I was unsophisticated enough to think 
 that possibly the book had fallen into honest hands and I quit the 
 train and returned to my hotel and took one of my partners with 
 
82 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 me at the break of day to look about the depot. This was a sign 
 of imbecihty on my part, but I was not as old then as now. We 
 looked around the depot a short time, but did not find any pocket- 
 book lying around loose filled with brand-new greenbacks. I then 
 went and called on ''Bob'' Ford, the well known Pittsqurg de- 
 tective. He told me that this kind of business was of almost night- 
 ly occurrence at that depot and that three nights before I called 
 upon him a man had $1,300 stolen. Mr. Ford told me that he 
 offered to pay every dollar stolen from that depot in one year if the 
 city would pay him SI, 000, but the city fathers refused and the 
 traveling public was suffering in consequences daily. 
 
 I felt a little bit green over this transaction and told the partner 
 that went to the depot in the morning to not let the other partner 
 know anything about it and I would stand the loss. I didn't want 
 to tell anyone — not even my wife — until I struck oil. In about 
 two years I struck a little oil and then told the story on myself. 
 
 The second time that I was robbed was at Warren, Pa., at the 
 time of the Cherry Grove excitement when "The Mystery," or 
 "Six Forty-Six," was struck. The price of oil depreciated at this 
 time to such an extent that small operators suffered greatly. If 
 the Standard Oil Company had never done anything but steady 
 the price and stop such fluctuations, the Standard would have 
 proved a godsend to the country. Well, as I was saying, a great 
 rush was caused by this strike. Warren was full of all kinds of 
 people, with a sprinkling of pickpockets to boot. And as I step- 
 ped on the P. & E. train at Warren in a great jam and took my 
 seat in a coach I missed my pocketbook. When I missed that I 
 immediately felt for my watch and was really surprised to find it 
 in my vest pocket untouched. However, pickpockets at that time 
 generally let time pieces alone for they were very much more 
 easily identified than the money. I had one satisfaction in this. 
 I had only about $10 to lose at that time, although it did happen 
 that I lost some valuable papers. The third call by this class of 
 visitors was in my own town of Youngsville. I was returning 
 from attending Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. There was a gang 
 of those miserable blots on the face of the earth following Buffalo 
 Bill's Wild West show on that trip and two of them took the same 
 train west on the P. & E. road that I did. In getting off the train 
 I was considerably crowded by two young, good-looking men, who 
 pretended to be in a great hurry to get to vacant seats. They 
 were crowding from both sides of the aisle. I thought that I 
 recognized them as pickpockets and as I stepped out of the coach 
 door I felt for my pocketbook, but, as I expected, it was not there. 
 
PICKPOCKETS 83 
 
 I stepped off the train and told the conductor that he had pick- 
 pockets on board his train. He asked me if I could point them 
 out to him. I told him that I could not, as they were lost in the 
 crowd, and consequently they escaped arrest. But this time the 
 joke was on the thieves, as they got only about S2 — hardly worth 
 the risk. I suppose the rascals must have let off some cuss-words 
 when they opened the book. But I was inconvenienced some- 
 what hj the loss of papers which could do the thieves no good. 
 
 Three days after this I attended the grand lodge I. 0. O. F., of 
 New York, at Jamestown, N. Y. In the afternoon a little party 
 concluded to take a ride on the lake, and as I thought I might not 
 have money enough to carry me through, I asked a friend if he had 
 $5 that he would not need until he reached YoungsviUe. He an- 
 swered, "1 don't know, but will look." I said: "Don't look at 
 your monej' in this crowd. There may be pickpockets here — go 
 into the writing room." He complied with my request and soon 
 came back with the remark, "Yes,. I can let you have it." I stepp- 
 ed into the writing room of the Sherman House and wrote a check 
 for five dollars, came out and into the public room, handed my 
 friend the check and he handed me the monej^, in the presence of a 
 hundred men. I put the money in mj^ book, and — reader — 
 give a guess as to the length of time that I had possession of that 
 money. Being well aware that you will make the time too long, 
 I'U tell you- — just about three minutes. A street car came to the 
 door of the hotel, and a party rushed for seats, or pretended to, 
 and my pocketbook. They got the book, but not the seats. They 
 preferred to stay in Jamestown, and pick up other easy marks, 
 like myself. I was quite certain before I got into the car — by the 
 actions of this crowd of Xew York City excursionists — that they 
 belonged to the fraternity that always had a liking for me, and I 
 found my prognostications to be correct when I felt for my pocket- 
 book and found that it had veiy recently changed owners. When 
 I made my predicament known a friend loaned me a sufficiency 
 of cash to enable me to stick to my crowd of "Brother Odd FeUows" 
 until my arrival in YoungsviUe. And let me say, that although 
 sixteen years have come and gone, I have not lost a pocketbook 
 since that time, for the good reason that I have not had a book in 
 my pockets since. I don't know how many times those meanest 
 oi things in the shape of men have had their hands in my pockets 
 since the Jamestown donation, but I do know that they have gone 
 without their regular meals if they depended on me to pay their 
 bills. It is a little more safe to keep your money in bank, and fiU 
 blank checks when you wish to use it than to carry your money in 
 
84 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 your pockets. 
 
 This reminds me of a funny little incident. Away up in the 
 mountains of the "Mountain State," West Virginia, I gave a check 
 for 75 cents on the Youngsville Savings Bank, 400 milesfaway, to 
 a hotel man in payment of my hotel bill. I happened that way 
 again six months afterwards. He was still the owner of the check. 
 He said it was too small an amount to send to his bank. I remain- 
 ed under the hospitable roof on this second visit until my check 
 was large enough for him to ''bother with," but I am not taking 
 any chances with pickpockets. I cannot account for the fact that 
 I am "a shining mark" for this class of miscreants that I have men- 
 tioned, when my neighbors all escape. I know I have reached the 
 point of intense hatred of the people who make their living that 
 way. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain. They 
 don't risk one cent. It is all income and no outgo. Nothing 
 would please me more than to see the whole crowd — no, I could 
 not see them all at the same time, there are too many of them — 
 hanging by their necks. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 OLD TIME LUMBERMEN. 
 
 In writing this chapter there comes to my mind old rafting 
 times. Years ago, when I was a pilot of lumber rafts on the Al- 
 legheny and Ohio rivers, when the spring flood came, us young 
 fellows, and many of the old fellows, would begin to look around 
 for work at rafting. Even before the water came deep enough 
 for rafts, we would begin to build our ''creek pieces" on the ice at 
 the mills. We had no steam mills then. Water power made all 
 the lumber then. The logs were hauled to the streams, for the 
 sawing into boards. And oh! what boards. The logs were rolled 
 onto carriages, and set to the right thickness with crowbars — by 
 guess. Sometimes a board would be a quarter or half inch thicker 
 at one end than at the other end. The saw was hung in a sash, 
 made for one single saw, and played up and down with an uncer- 
 tain speed, owing to the height of the water in the dam above the 
 mill. And after a log had a slab taken off of both sides — some- 
 times a board or two would be sawed, thus flattening a log, these 
 boards would be piled on the flat side of the log to be edged. The 
 
OLD TIME LUMBERMEN 85 
 
 sawyer would sit on these boards in front of the saw, and as the saw 
 would near him he would hitch away from it, but must keep his 
 weight upon the boards, to keep them down, so that a single saw 
 could do its double duty of sawing the board under and edging the 
 board on top, at one and the same time. When I was a young, 
 green millhand I came the nearest to passing into the life beyond 
 that I ever did, through this very method of edging boards. I was 
 sitting in front of the saw, hitching away at intervals. The skirt of 
 my coat dragging behind, I like the fool boy that I was, took the no- 
 tion that I would let the saw clip a little notch in my coat, so I let the 
 saw creep up to it. But instead of clipping a little notch, the coat 
 was jerked down into the log with such violence that the skirt was 
 nearly torn off, with a dozen holes in it. As the saw came up out 
 of the log for another stroke I jumped with the agility of a cat, or 
 any other smart animal. If not for that quick motion I would 
 have been mincemeat in a second. I never again tried such an ex- 
 periment. But to the subject: 
 
 When the snow melted and raised the creek to a rafting stage 
 then the fun began. The Brokenstraw creek would be full of rafts 
 passing through Youngsville from morning until night. One 
 might stand on the bridge spanning the Brokenstraw creek all day 
 long and not be out of sight of a floating raft, either up the creek, 
 down the creek, or passing through town. At that time sawmills 
 were strung along the creek from Irvineton to the headwaters in 
 Chautauqua county, N. Y. And as no railroads were even con- 
 templated all the lumber was floated. Even the tributaries. 
 Little Brokenstraw, Garland, Spring creek and Hare creek, put 
 out their share of this lumber. But the show came when these 
 hundreds of "creek pieces'' were landing in the Brokenstraw eddy. 
 They must be coupled up preparatory to starting for Pittsburg. 
 At times the Brokenstraw eddy was not large enough and a share 
 of the coupling up into river rafts of about a dozen creek rafts, 
 put into one river raft, went to Dunn's eddy and to Thompson's 
 eddy. It required a considerable fishing and figuring for each of 
 perhaps 50 owners to get their different creek pieces out of the 
 general mixup and coupled into river rafts. Well, I guess there 
 was a hurrying time among the men that did this work when water 
 was falling in the river. Men have been known to work all night 
 with only the light of pitch pine knots. No electric, gas or acety- 
 lene hghts were dreamed of those days. And when the "Allegheny 
 fleets" were all coupled up a shanty was built of boards, a stove 
 put in and some hard "bunks" for the "hands" to sleep in. A 
 supply of salt pork, potatoes and bread was put aboard and the 
 
86 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 raft was ready to "puU out." The pilot would say "Left forward" 
 and the fleet would be propelled from the shore where it had been 
 tied by a long cable since the work of "coupling up" commenced 
 by the most willing set of workers that ever left friends and foes 
 behind for an outing down the river to Pittsburg, Wheeling, Cin- 
 cinnati, Louisville and many times to the falls of the Ohio river 
 and New Orleans. Those robust raftsmen were the most jovial, 
 rollicking fellows to be met with anywhere. None but the stout- 
 est men undertook that work. It required being out of doors in 
 all kinds of weather. The men had to be near their oars every 
 moment as when the pilot gave orders to right or left each oar was 
 expected to be dipped in the next few seconds. Rain, snow and 
 sometimes a mixture of both had to be endured. Weakly, con- 
 sumptive fellows were very seldom seen on a raft. Only young 
 men full of warm blood and deviltry were right at home on a raft 
 in the old times. These latter named would pull into a river eddy 
 in any kind of a storm, take their hurried meal and after all kinds 
 of jokes and pranks would crawl into the bunks filled with straw, 
 with their clothes on and sometimes frozen stiff, lie down, spoon 
 fashion, go to sleep, and not wake up until the break of day when 
 the pilot would jump out and yell "Tie loose." In about a min- 
 ute the raft would be gently floating towards the "Smoky City." 
 If those early pioneers had been obliged to adjust their cuffs, collars 
 neckties and see that the seams in their pants had the desired ap- 
 pearance it would have taken more than one minute to get afloat 
 each morning. And the air would be filled with cusswords. The 
 pilots, in general, were men who used steamboat language when 
 they got in a hurry. And the wages for hard work and fare, we, 
 "the hands," got the mtagnificent sum of $10 a trip and pay our 
 own way back. 
 
 If a man walked back home he could clear $1 a day, if he did not 
 "tie up" for high water or walk too slow in coming back. The 
 average walker would clear about $1 a day if he was a total ab- 
 stainer. If not, he would fall short, as those who indulge in strong 
 drink will testify to, even at the present time. Since the world 
 began strong drink has been a great absorber of money, and the 
 saddest of all sad things is that all the money spent for strong drink 
 vanished into the air. No good ever came from it — all bad, bad, 
 and no good. Since Adam and Eve's time it has a poor record. If 
 our legislators would wait before passing laws to protect the sale 
 of intoxicating liquors until they see the benefit derived from a 
 drink of whiskey, taken as a beverage, they never would pass an- 
 other law of that kind until doomsday. And now arises the ques- 
 
OLD TIME LUMBERMEN 87 
 
 tion, Why cannot our lawmakers make good laws just as easy as 
 bad laws? No doubt but what the people, one hundred years 
 hence, will look back upon us and call us barbarians for making 
 laws for the protection of the greatest evil on the face of God's green 
 earth. I said the greatest evil; I'll make it stronger — I'll say it 
 outweighs all other evils combined. It is time that the north 
 quits looking down upon the south. We ought to begin to look 
 up to them on the temperance question. Why, God bless them! 
 they are nearly half prohibition now, and if Pennsylvania and 
 New Jersey don't wake up soon the south will be all prohibition 
 before they begin the good work. 
 
 Now I'll get back to my subject again. When those footsore 
 travelers got back to their homes along the upper waters of the 
 Allegheny river a large majority would swear off going down the 
 river on a raft again. But when the next "rafting fresh" came 
 there would be more begging for trips down the river than could be 
 used. And now, about the price of lumber. Good pine boards 
 have been sold in Pittsburg for S4 per thousand feet and nearly a 
 fourth of it "clear stuff." Compare this price with the present 
 price and you are almost staggered. The same quality of lumber 
 to-day would bring eight times as much in the same market. 
 
 Among the old-time lumbermen in Warren county, was "Joe" 
 Hall, L. F. Watson, Boon Mead, Erastus Barnes, Orris Hall, Guy 
 Irvine, John McKinney, James McKinney, Eben Mead, John 
 Mead, J. C. and D. Mead, John Garner, Amasa Ransom, James 
 Durlin, John Durlin, Robert Andrews, Dr. Wm. A. Irvine, Samuel 
 Grandin, H. P. Kinnear, a Mr. Funk, Joseph Green, James Eddy, 
 Charles Whitney, J. B. Phillips, Alonzo Patch, Joseph Mead, 
 Hardin Hazeltine, Wilham Siggins, Daniel Horn, William Dem- 
 ming, Alden Marsh, James Donaldson, Sterling Holcomb, John 
 Brown, William White, William Frese, Phillip Mead, L. B. Wood, 
 Chapin Hall and many more that I could name. In fact, there 
 
 were more lumbermen than farmers. Farming was not the picnic 
 those days that it is now. Where farms were cleared up the stumps 
 were comparatively green. The trees had been but recently cut, 
 and the stumps were green with tough roots, extending out in all 
 directions, a rod or two, making anything but pleasant work in 
 ploughing and making land ready for the crops. The main crops 
 were hay, oats, corn, wheat, potatoes, rye, and buckwheat. What 
 a difference between now and then. Now the most of the stumps 
 are rotted, or pulled out with a machine! Many of the fences are 
 made of pine stumps. 
 
 These fences were not beautiful to look at, but they were very 
 
88 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 durable. The pine roots were filled with pitch, and never would 
 rot. A few of the fences can be seen at the present time scattered 
 over the country. If these fences had not gone out of fashion, 
 they would be here yet, sound and in good order. But a new- 
 fangled way of farming sprang up and no fences, or but a few, are 
 needed. In the early days, cattle, sheep and horses ran all over 
 the country at random, where now the farmers only make fences 
 "around their pasture fields and keep all their stock shut in, so that 
 few fences are found in the country, and where boards and rails 
 were used then, now posts and wire are used. 
 
 When I finished writing the names of the old time lumbermen 
 the thought struck me that I would look over the list and see how 
 many of those old time lumbermen were alive to-day. And, dear 
 reader, how many do you think are alive out of the 40 named? 
 To my utter surprise, I found not one alive. Now, do you believe 
 that I am writing of "old timers?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 NEW TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 This chapter begins with what might be named "New Times in 
 Oildom," as it is a mention of the latest in oil in Youngsville. Re- 
 cently a Pittsburg company commenced drilling a well in the row 
 of small wells below town, or on the very edge of the borough. And 
 a well a little farther west of that will be put down in the town by 
 local parties and another four miles north of town will be put down 
 by a foreign compainy. This seems like a revival of the oil busi- 
 ness here, two commenced and two talked of. If it can be arrang- 
 ed to hitch the two dozen wells that have been drilled in Youngs- 
 ville and vicinity together and run them with one power the pro- 
 duction would pay nicely. If oil ever gets scarce and rises in price 
 Youngsville will be an oil town. If all the wells put down in 
 Youngsville' and vicinity, say a distance of three miles in diameter, 
 were hitched together it would make a nice thing for the owner or 
 owners. Of course it would not be a big income, but it would help 
 some. 
 
 I will mention a change in the oil business in our nearby neighbor- 
 Garland, seven miles west of Youngsville. Before the pipe line 
 days, the oil came from Enterprise, Pleasantville and that section 
 
MEW TIMES IN OILDOM 89 
 
 of the country by teams and wagons to Garland, and there the P. 
 & E. raihoad was reached and the oil was loaded on the cars for 
 market. It came in barrels. Six or eight barrels made a wagon- 
 load, according to the size of the team. Fight barrels were a 
 heavy tug for even the stoutest of teams. The roads were any- 
 thing but smooth when the oil business struck the country. But 
 when this array of teams began their tramping of the mud, a mortar 
 bed was soon formed that was something awful to behold and 
 much more awful to navigate. When this mud became frozen, 
 but still not quite hard enough to hold a horse's weight and not 
 quite soft enough for easy wading, it was kiUing on the poor brutes, 
 and not easy on the drivers. I, one day, met "Bob" McMillen, 
 of Garland, driving a big "team of grays" with an eight barrel load. 
 
 "Bob's" face looked as though it had been through a threshmg 
 machine. In crossing one of those corduroy bridges, he had been 
 tossed from his slippery seat on an oil barrel, alighting face down- 
 ward on a rock. He was a sight, but he kept his place m that long 
 line of teams until he reached the railroad and also helped unload 
 his wagon. Garland was a lively little town in those days. A 
 heavy lumber business was carried on. 
 
 The D. A. V. & P. was not built then and the P. & E. had all the 
 railroad business. Garland is not as large as it was at that time, 
 but is a town more solid and permanent. The people have to a 
 large extent pursued farming and depend on agriculture. Oil may 
 come and oil may go, lumber may come and lumber ma:^ go, but 
 the good soil will always be with them. Garland has soil that is 
 rather above the average Warren county soil and the inhabitants 
 are of the thrifty kind, and they will not starve. The writer was 
 a citizen of that town when he first began attending school and 
 will make mention of the first and only punishment that he ever 
 received at any school. This was the way of it: An old Scotch- 
 man was the teacher. His rules were ironclad. One day when he 
 "let the boys go out," one boy— a sort of an Ananias— said the 
 schoolmaster asked him "to tell the other boys" to wade into the 
 "West Run," a nice little stream that invitingly passed close to the 
 school house,— and wash their feet. All attended school barefoot- 
 ed in those days, and, of course, our feet could bear considerable 
 washing, and then not be any too clean. Well, believing this to 
 be a reasonable request, we all pitched in, doing some lively kick- 
 ing and splashing. When we were called in the teacher took a look 
 at our drabbled pants. He called us out on the floor and lined us 
 up in a row. Then he took his ferule— a great wide ruler— and 
 grabbed each boy in rotation by the fingers, holding the palm of 
 
90 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 the hand upward. He then gave each one five heavy strokes, ap- 
 plying his whole pedagogical strength. That long, wide and heavy 
 ferule had its effect on that line of a dozen boys in different ways. 
 Some would quietly cry, some would cry with a loud voice, some 
 would smile, and others hop and yell. I took my medicine with 
 quiet heroism. The old bachelor teacher then permitted us to 
 take our seats, and we put in the rest of the afternoon in consider- 
 able unhappiness, caused by wet pants and tingling fingers. And 
 thus ended my first and only punishment, brought on by my faith 
 in our Ananias. 
 
 Before leaving the subject of this school house I wish to enlighten 
 the present generation in regard to pioneer Sunday Schools. My 
 first Sunday School training was in this old Garland school house. 
 The services consisted principally of committing Bible verses to 
 memory and reciting them to the teacher of the class. We had no 
 leaflets, gotten out by the best Bible schools of the age, as we have 
 now. The exercises were indeed crude. But we worked the best 
 we could considering the tools we had to work with. The class 
 that I belonged to had a scholar, a boy by the name of David 
 Moore. He had a good memory, but I had conceit enough about 
 me to think that I could equal if not exceed him in that line. Well, 
 I bantered him for a test. We agreed each to do our very best for 
 one week and, for our own enlightenment, find out which could 
 commit to memory the largest number of verses and recite to our 
 teacher at the end of the week. The result was: Moore, 145; 
 and Brown, 105. David died many years ago after living an ex- 
 emplary. Christian life. 
 
 And now before I leave this old school house, let me tell a little 
 fish story: I fished for the beautiful and palatable speckled trout 
 in the streams about Garland in those long ago days that I have 
 been talking about. One day not satisfied with the Garland 
 fishing streams I hied me away a couple of miles to "Blueye" and 
 fished all day, and failed to get a nibble at the hook. When on my 
 way home I stopped on a bridge, right in front of the old school 
 house, and as I had quite often discovered an immense trout, lying 
 quietly in quite deep water, under this bridge, I took a peep 
 through the cracks of the floor of the bridge, and there lay the big 
 speckled trout. I immediately set myself about preparations for 
 his capture. I took my hook and line from my pocket, tied the 
 line to a long stick, dug up a fish worm from the ground nearby, 
 baited the hook with the worm, and slipped up noiselessly and 
 dropped the bait down through a convenient crack in the bridge, 
 and watched the result. The bait landed on the gravel, on the 
 
NEW TIMES IN OILDOM 91 
 
 bottom of the stream, about 10 inches in front of the trout's nose. 
 I watched a moment but no motion of the fish. Just as I had 
 made up my mind that the big fish was not hungry I noticed a very 
 slight motion of its tail, but soon the movement was almost as a 
 lightning flash. He grabbed the bait on the run, and started for his 
 hiding place under the edge of the bank. However, his rapid 
 movement was stopped by my long stick and line. The result was I 
 pulled a trout up through that bridge that weighed a little over 
 two pounds. This convinced me that fishing at home was better 
 than two miles away in Blueye creek. This was the largest speckl- 
 ed trout that I ever saw except one. My brother and I were fish- 
 ing in a mill pond about fifty rods from the bridge that is spoken 
 of above, about one month after this, and he pulled a speckled 
 trout to just above the surface of the water and not being able to 
 bring it ashore let it sink back into the water again. Being older, 
 and a little stronger, I grabbed his pole, and swung the fish to land. 
 That one weighed over two pounds and a half. Garland had big 
 speckled trout about 65 years ago. 
 
 A recent flood in the Brokenstraw creek reminded me of the old 
 fellows of the rafting times which have passed away, when we had 
 no railroads to carry the lumber. Such a freshet in the creek 
 would have brought joy to the hearts of all the j^oung men of the 
 vicinity, for rafts would be running daily. Think of the changes! 
 When I piloted my first raft on the Brokenstraw creek there was 
 not a railroad in the United States. When the P. & E. road was 
 built through Youngsville many people had never heard a locomo- 
 tive whistle. One man played a great joke on himself. When he 
 heard the whistle of the old Ohio locomotive, "Zenia," the con- 
 struction engine, he siezed his gun and started for town, about a 
 mile distant, with the intention of killing what he thought was a 
 panther. 
 
 The locomotive "Zenia," spoken of above, was brought from 
 sonie Ohio railroad to haul the material for building the western 
 division of the Philadelphia and Erie railroad. "Dick" Poor was 
 the engineer and ''Jim" Horigan was the conductor of the con- 
 struction train. Scott Patten and WilHam, his brother, were the 
 contractors. Robert Beveridge, afterwards cashier of an Oil City 
 bank, who died recently, was the store clerk. The people of this 
 section were unanimous in thinking all those named were great 
 men. They were bringing a railroad into our isolated country. 
 Wheri the old locomotive would leave Youngsville for Corry after 
 supplies,^ it would often be filled with women and men, anxious to 
 have a ride on something propelled by steam. The crowd would 
 
92 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 be so dense that it was with much difficulty that the fireman could 
 shovel his coal. And "Dick" Poor, a big fat man, would share a 
 seat at the lever with any of his free passengers. He was the very 
 embodiment of good humor. In fact no one who wanted a ride on 
 the old locomotive was turned away as long as there was room to 
 sandwich in one more. Everybody in those days carried high 
 heads and their faces almost said the words, "We are going to have 
 a railroad. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 OLD TIME OIL TANKS. 
 
 This chapter will begin with a few remarks on tank building be- 
 fore it became a science. The first oil tanks that came under my 
 observation were on the "Jim" Tar farm. And, Oh! what tanks 
 they were! Perhaps a dozen or 15 were constructed at the Phillips 
 well. They occupied all the little narrow strip of flat land that lay 
 between, the well and Oil Creek. They were made of pine plank. 
 A hole was dug into the ground about eight or ten feet deep, the 
 diameter varying somewhere from 8 to 12 feet. The top of the 
 tanks were just even with the ground, being covered over with 
 pine planks to prevent pedestrians from walking into them at 
 night. The few old operators who saw this kind of storage will 
 bear me out in saying that there was a frightful amount of money 
 in wastage. Oil was selling at from S8 to $14 a barrel, while the 
 old Phillips well was gushing out hundreds of barrels a day, and 
 the leakage from those home-made tanks ran into thousands and 
 thousands of dollars. And it would make a young operator of the 
 present day laugh, or cry, to see the owners getting oil into and out 
 of those tanks. A three cornered trough was made of boards an 
 inch thick, but any width that came handy, and the oil that did 
 not escape through the cracks and holes in those crude little con- 
 veyors ran in great streams from the well to those things called 
 tanks. And when a pond "freshet" would come down the creek, 
 away the greasy fluid would go to the Allegheny river in a "bulk 
 boat," which means an open boat, previously filled by pumping 
 the oil with a dandy looking pump from the tank to the boat 
 through the wooden pipe. It was not many moons, however, be- 
 fore improvements began to appear in the tank line. The late 
 Frank Tarbell, of Rouseville, soon began to manufacture a wooden 
 
OLD TIME OIL TANKS 93 
 
 tank that could be set up above ground. And soon after iron pipes 
 were used in the running of the oil in and out of the tanks. Mr. 
 Tarbell, aside from his tank business, ran the only lumber yard at 
 Rouseville. In addition to all this, he put down a few oil wells and 
 found no dry holes. I had the pleasure of supplying the lumber 
 for his yard and tank business, and will say right here that in my 
 long life I never dealt with a more honest and upright man. Nearly 
 everybody has heard of Ida Tarbell. At the time I speak of, she 
 was a bright and lively school girl of 16. My wife and Ida were 
 good friends. The young girl made visits to our home lasting 
 several weeks. She was a fine piano player and a very pleasant 
 visitor. At that time she had never thought of becoming an 
 authoress of national repute. The Tarbell family became resi- 
 dents, in after years, of Titusville, where Frank was a leader in the 
 Methodist Episcopal church and in the up-building of the city in 
 general. He continued in the oil business and other activities of 
 life up to the time of his death not long ago. 
 
 I wish to make a few remarks concerning a very important part 
 of the oil trade, showing that the present times are better than 
 "Old Times in Oildom." I'll speak of the matter of leasing oil 
 lands. There is not much said about land sharks nowadays. But 
 in those old times was there not "wailing and gnashing of teeth?" 
 Sharpers soon laid plans to catch the unwary farmers, and they 
 worked their games for all they were worth. To prove this I 
 will give one case which is but one of many. I called upon a man 
 of 80 years in McKean county. I found him sitting on a chair on 
 his porch, churning butter in the old fashioned way, moving a 
 "dasher" up and down. He was the picture of despair. This is 
 his story, given to me as he propelled the churn dasher. "I own 
 a 100 acre farm that is without doubt one of the best oil farms in 
 McKean county. But I am one of the most poverty stricken men 
 in this county. I leased my farm to an oil company before I had 
 given the subject any thought. I went into writings with this 
 company blindly. The conditions of the lease were that the com- 
 paiiy was to put down one well within one year. They fulfilled 
 their part of the agreement. The well went down, but when near 
 the oil they spoiled the well. They filled it about half full of sand 
 and worked and fussed with it for a few days and pronounced it a 
 failure. And that is the shape of things at present. Good wells 
 are being struck all around my farm, but I am a poverty stricken 
 man. The offer is so low that it is an insult to me. They know 
 my situation and think that I will be obliged to accept their offer. 
 Their offer is so low that it would not help my family much when 
 
94 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 I drop off and I never will accept it. I cannot force them to clean 
 out this well or put another down. They have fulfilled their con- 
 tract. And I am in an awful shape. I am 80 years old and I have 
 the consumption and I have 30 acres of hay to cut and not one 
 dollar to hire men to do the work. And I cannot do a thing except 
 the very lightest of work. I would be a rich man to-day if not for 
 these land sharks, but as it now stands I am one of the poorest 
 men in this country. There ought to be a law to hang such men 
 as these, who took advantage of my ignorance. I don't 
 know what I will do.'' _ 
 
 Thus ended my visit with the old gentleman and I left him look- 
 ing the very exemplification of despair. A few months after that 
 I saw the announcement in a paper of his death. Although really 
 in the midst of wealth he died a poor man. But what a change 
 has taken place in the last 25 years! We hear of few such com- 
 plaints now. This leasing business has become a settled, honest 
 business. Nearly all farmers are fully posted in this leasing busi- 
 ness and at times they get the best of the oil man. Both know 
 their business, and there is a kind of sameness in the contracts, 
 which leaves both parties satisfied. All pioneer operators well 
 know that the rough and tumble way of doing business at the be- 
 ginning has now been systematized. This is the age of progress. 
 Any man of my age can look back and see changes that could not 
 be described in a book as big as a barn. I have often thought 
 that I would like to look back upon this old world 100 years from 
 now, and see how people would be doing things. If such strides 
 in new inventions are made in the next 100 years as have been 
 made in the last 100 years, what will this world look like? Perhaps 
 the spirits of the dead can look back. The way things have been 
 going for the last few years a man cannot consistently doubt any- 
 thing. A few years ago if I had told people that two men could 
 stand 3,000 miles apart and carry on a conversation with each 
 other over a wire, or that men could converse with each other, 
 standing hundreds of tniles apart, with no wire, I would have been 
 pronounced a fit subject for an insane asylum. Oh, how will it be 
 100 years hence? 
 
 I have just thought of a strange happening in my life, which is 
 worthy of mentioning. The two extremes of heat and cold came 
 to me at Conneaut Lake, Crawford county. Pa. About 26 years 
 ago I was in the temperance work, organizing Good Templar lodg- 
 es. I struck the lake about the middle of the afternoon on a fear- 
 ful cold day. The first call I made was on the postmaster. I 
 found in him a strong temperance man. He put his name and the 
 
OLD TIME OIL TANKS 95 
 
 names of members of his family on my lists for application for 
 membership, and invited me to take supper with him, which I did. 
 It was the regular meeting night of the A. O. U. W. Being a mem- 
 ber of that order I attended their meeting, engaged the use of their 
 hall and organized a lodge the same night. The postmaster and 
 family did not come to the meeting. After the organization was 
 completed I went to the only hotel in town. I walked into the 
 office, travelling bag in hand. A lot of men sat around, and no 
 one made a noise. I inquired for the landlord. A big fat fellow 
 clapped his hand on his breast, and said: "Here he is, this big fat 
 fellow." I asked for accomodations. He said the rooms were oc- 
 cupied. Said he, "Some of the beds have but one man in them, 
 but they don't Hke to double up." I asked him if there was any 
 other place that a man could get shelter at that time of night, 11 
 p. m. lie directed me to "a. boarding house" down on the edge of 
 the lake, the last house at the end of the sidewalk. I started out 
 in the zero weather and pitch dark— no street lamps at that time. 
 I got to the end of the walk, and found ciuite a large boarding 
 house. I pounded on the front door, but got no response. I 
 pounded again, with renewed vigor. Same result. Then I tried 
 my lung power— for all it was worth, but it was just as valuable 
 as the pounding. Finally I was obliged to give it up as a bad job. 
 The next day I learned that the owner of the boarding house was 
 a deaf woman, that could not hear me, and her helper was a foohsh 
 son. Between the two it was an impossibility for a belated strang- 
 er to gain admittance to that boarding house at 11 p. m. I then 
 retraced my steps up town. I felt somewhat lonely, as everybody 
 m town was in bed and asleep, except the lone stranger. 
 
 My next move was to rouse a doctor— one that I had initiated 
 that night mto the I. 0. G. T. lodge— from his slumbers. In re- 
 sponse to my knock at his door, he appeared. I then told him my 
 situation; that I had been turned away from the Hcensed hotel 
 because 1 had organized a society that night which would work 
 against his liquor trade, and that I could not get into the boarding 
 house. The doctor was a good natured and well meaning indivi- 
 dual, but he said he had visitors and could not find room for me. 
 He advised me to go to another of my Good Templar members. 
 The doctor gave me verbal directions. Those directions were such 
 that no one but an expert tramp organizer could follow them suc- 
 cessfully. I failed as an expert. I was told to go down street a 
 little way, then cross a street, then up a street, with several turns 
 andstop at the third house on the left. I undertook the job of 
 finding this brother, as I had nothing else before me to do. It was 
 
96 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 not an easy task — looking for a strange house in a strange town 
 and as dark as a stack of black cats, and zero weather at that. 
 After I had turned as many corners as I thought would fill 
 the bill and co anted, in my mind, as many houses as the doctor 
 had told me to — it really was so dark that I could not see a house — 
 I walked up to a house that felt like the cme that I was in search 
 of, and rang the bell. I found it by sense of feeling and not by 
 seemg. A man came to the door — I was at the wrong house, of 
 course — and scolded out the directions so plainly that there was 
 no misunderstanding them. 
 
 The next hunt brought me to the hospitable home of my newly 
 made brother Good Templar. I laid my case before him in as 
 mild language as I could command. His answer was, ''We are in 
 just as bad shape as the doctor. We have visitors and could not 
 make room for you." By this time I had crowded myself into his 
 house and shut the door to keep out the zero air. I told my Dear 
 Brother that as it was my first night in Evansburg — the town was 
 plain Evansburg then; it was before it became a noted summer 
 resort — I would not care to stay out of doors, considering the tem- 
 perature. By this time I had become almost saucy — perhaps 
 desperate would be the better word. I cast my shivering eyes 
 around the room and beheld a cold wood stove setting there with 
 two sticks of green wood lying near it and a lounge sitting near it 
 also. I said, "Is there any fire in that stove?" He said, "No," 
 Then I said, "Could you put some fire in it?" He answered in the 
 affirmative. Then I said, "If you will heat the stove and give 
 me a comforter I will sleep on that lounge." The brother disap- 
 peared to his Vjedroom and consulted his life partner, and soon 
 came with this answer: "My wife says she has no comforter to 
 spare." Then I said, "Put some fire in that stove and I will use 
 my overcoat for a covering." He obeyed my command and I laid 
 down with all my clothes on except my overcoat, which took the 
 place of what ought to have been about three comforters. I soon 
 fell into a sleep, with uncomfortable dreams. I waked up about 
 four hours before daylight- -the coldest man in Crawford county, 
 Pa. That stove was as cold as Alaska and I was nearly frozen. 
 When I would wink, I could not only see stars, but I could actually 
 see half moons. I examined that stove and found not a live coal 
 in it. I saw two or three sticks of green wood on the floor. I con- 
 cluded not to start a fire for several reasons. First, no matches 
 could be found; second, I could not make green wood burn if I 
 had had the matches, and I did not feel like arousing my brother 
 twice in one night. So I doubled up and held my feet in my hands 
 
STARVING ANIMALS 97 
 
 and kept up a little circulation until my brother and entertainer 
 came with some dry kindling wood and built a good fire in that 
 cold stove. After daylight appeared and after partaking of a 
 good breakfast I said good-bye to thes^ Good Templars and I have 
 never seen them since. When I saw the doctor at his office before 
 I left town, he eagerly asked me if I got a bed. I told him that I 
 did and he seemed greatly pleased with the idea that I had found 
 a downy bed. He never knew that my bones were aching and did 
 ache for four days afterwards. 
 
 But now comes in the joke. I called at the postoffice the next 
 morning after my freezing and the postmaster said: ''Where did 
 you stay last night? My wife reserved a bed for you and sat up 
 until midnight, keeping up a warm fire for 5^ou. We could not 
 get out to the meeting, but expected you to stay with us." Just 
 think of it! A woman sitting up until midnight, keeping a good 
 w^arm fire and making a bed for me, when I was tramping all over 
 town hunting for both and finding neither. 
 
 And now for the other extreme — the extreme heat. It will take 
 but a few words to give the heat side of it. About 10 years after 
 my work at Evansburg in organizing the Good Templars, I organ- 
 ized an insurance lodge. Another man conducted the hotel. I 
 stopped at the place nearly a week. My room was on the west 
 side of the house. The first night I slept in that room was the 
 warmest in my life. I slept on a feather bed. It was in the middle 
 of summer and one of the hottest nights I ever saw, or felt. The 
 window had been open all day and the afternoon sun had poured 
 through the window onto the feather bed, and to say that I had 
 a hot night of it would be putting it mildly. There had been no 
 rain for about six weeks. Now, reader, I think T have convinced 
 you that I have met the two extremes of heat and cold in my ex- 
 perience in the same town. I would hesitate about visiting that 
 place again, fearing that something awful might happen to 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 STARVING ANIMALS. 
 
 _ There was a lot of talk about Theodore Roosevelt's horseback 
 ride of 90 miles in one day, at the time he was president. I sup- 
 pose that not one of his "subjects" in the United States took as 
 
98 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 long a horseback ride that day as did the exchief executive. It re- 
 minds me of m}^ ride from Titusville to Garland, 75 years ago, a 
 distance of less than 20 miles. I rode behind my grandfather, 
 astride of a big white horse. When I reached Garland my legs 
 were unable to do duty satisfactorily. When my grandfather, 
 George McCray, of Titusville, lifted me from the horse and set 
 me right end up on the ground, I staggered and fell, my legs being 
 much benumbed. I well remember this, although I was but 6 
 years old. In fact, this is as far back as my memory runs. But 
 I give up to President Roosevelt. I think he can hold the cham- 
 pionship for years and years to come — at least so far as I am con- 
 cerned. _ '• 
 The Rev. J. P. Burns, of the M. E. church, has been holding re- 
 vival meetings here. He is a faithful Christian worker, and has 
 started many souls on the Christian pathway. His oratorical 
 powers are far above the average. As a proof of the appreciation 
 of his parishoners, he has preached here over eight years. The 
 year he was called to the ninth year, the call was_ signed by about 
 three hundred petitioners. I mention these thiiigs in order to 
 compare the present with the past. The first revival that I wit- 
 nessed was carried on at what was called Whitestown, about mid- 
 way between Pittsfield and Garland. People were affected differ- 
 ently those days. Strong men would jump, and dance around, 
 and fall helpless to the floor, and lie as still as death for hours at a 
 time. The leader of Methodism in Garland, John McCray, fell to 
 the floor one day, about noon, and lay quietly nearly all the after- 
 noon. He was a large, strong man, in both mind and body. To 
 young, unsophisticated eyes, this seems a strange sight. Men and 
 women, old and young, were there on that barn floor. They had 
 no church then, and James White's barn did its full duty in that 
 line. Generally before falling there would be considerable loud 
 shouting. There is a Httle of the same style of worship carried on 
 by the Free Methodists at the present time. Indeed, a Free Meth- 
 odist church stands directly across the stTeet from the home of the 
 writer of this, and sometimes they are quite noisy, but the noise of 
 a Christian is music compared to the brawl of a drunkard, or pro- 
 fane man. There is one glorious feature about the Free Methodist 
 church, and that is this: No man or woman can remain a member 
 who uses intoxicating liquor or tobacco, in any form. If all the 
 people on this old earth of ours, were Free Methodists, in this re- 
 spect what happiness would reign supreme. Speaking of this in- 
 visible thing which the church people caU "The Power," I will say 
 it is impossible for me to give any satisfactory explanation or 
 
STARVING ANIMALS 99 
 
 reason for it. My good wife and I drove to Stilson's Hill, many 
 years ago, to attend a United Brethren in Christ camp meeting, in 
 the woods. The preacher was eloquent and interesting, but he 
 did not get to the end of his sermon. When he had reached, per- 
 haps, the middle of his sermon, he cast his eyes upward toward 
 heaven and exclaimed: ''He is coming! He is coming!" and fell 
 over backwards on the floor of the platform. Another preacher 
 took his place and finished his sermon without a break. The 
 preacher remained there until the meeting closed for the evening, 
 and he had not moved a particle when wife and I left the camp 
 ground. Others, men and women were lying around in the same 
 comatose state. I have witnessed such exhibitions of ''an unseen 
 power" many times in my life, but I am no nearer solving the 
 problem now than I was in the long ago. 
 
 There is quite a contrast between the winter this year and one I 
 recall about 61 years ago. The snow fell about four feet deep and 
 lay on the ground three months without thawing. Not an icicle 
 was seen on the buildings for three months. Hay was "worth its 
 weight in gold." On the fifth day of April my father and I drove 
 a team the length of the Brokenstraw creek hunting for hay or 
 some kind of feed for our cattle, and found two dozen sheaves of 
 oats. The snow was three feet deep the fifth day of the second 
 month of spring. It thawed just a trifle, enough to melt the snow 
 in the road and to m-ake a little trickling stream of water. It was 
 a hard winter for the poor cattle, horses and sheep. There was too 
 much snow in the woods. It was so deep that the deer could not 
 wade through it and browse on the shrubbery, their usual winter 
 diet, and the cattle could not do any better than the wild animals. 
 Both the deer and the tame animals died by the hundreds. My 
 father lost a very valuable ox. It was starved to death, and a 
 half dozen cows did not make good shadows in the spring. Such 
 a thing could not take place now, as railroads are great distributors. 
 If any article becomes scarce in one place and plenty in another 
 place, the railroads will even up things. Just stop and think a 
 moment. If we had been blessed with railroads at that time not 
 one of those poor cattle, horses, sheep, etc., would have died. A 
 farmer was simply obliged to stand and see his poor suffering an- 
 imals die, with no earthly chance to feed thoni. 
 
 Many people are fighting railroads to-day who have never lived 
 without them. They do not realize the fact that all the new in- 
 ventions of the last 70 years are real godsends to the very people 
 who are fighting them. If those fighters had seen 81 years of 
 progress, as has the writer of these lines, they would not be ready 
 
100 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 for fight every time some little mishap occurs. And in addition to 
 the great and wonderful benefits of the railroads are the benefits 
 of the telegraph, telephone and trolley lines. Now a business man 
 can sit at his desk in his office and do business all over town. He 
 can do more in 10 minutes at that phone than he could do a few 
 years ago by footing it over town all day. He can do business 
 with another man 10 or 15 miles out in the country in a minute, 
 when before Edison's invention carriage hire and a whole day's 
 time would have been required; or, if the business necessitates a 
 personal interview, this business man can step into a trolley car, 
 and within a few minutes he is face to face with his customer. In 
 addition to this, if he wishes to talk face to face or tongue to tongue, 
 he can interview a man a thousand miles away. On the other 
 hand, if a farmer wants to do business with a townsman, he can 
 step to his 'phone and in a minute the business is transacted. _ A 
 few years ago this same farmer would be obliged, on all occasions 
 requiring his presence in town, to go to the barn, harness up old 
 "Jim" or ''Tom," hitch him to the buggy, if the farmer had one. 
 If not he would have to go to a neighbor and borrow one, and drive 
 over, at times, very rough roads to town and back, losing a half or 
 a whole day. 
 
 And then another great thing for the farmer, outside of the in- 
 ventions, is the custom which has grown up like a mushroom re- 
 cently of the merchant delivering goods at the door of any custom- 
 er regardless of the distance from the merchant's place of business. 
 All the farmer has to do is to give a ring at his 'phone and say 
 "Hello," and the goods are there when the horn blows calling the 
 field men to the table. Is it any wonder that the farmers are pay- 
 ing off their mortgages on their farms? They are saving millions 
 of dollars in time saved by these late inventions of big-brained 
 men like Edison. In fact, the farmer is the favored person now. 
 "Uncle Sam" is really partial to him. The United States mail 
 carrier leaves his mail matter in boxes at his door, while the in- 
 habitants of a town not large enough for free delivery must travel 
 a mile or two and stand at the post office window until the "mail 
 is changed" and handed out to him. The farmers will soon be, 
 and some of them are now, riding in automobiles and looking down 
 on common folks. And the millions of dollars that they are sav- 
 ing in time alone will be expended in beautifying this favored 
 country for as a class they are the most economical of all workers. 
 Edison never dreamed of the unspeakable benefits and the 
 many blessings he has brought to mankind. 
 
 I have wandered from my subject of the deep snow. But I have 
 
OLD TIME QUADRILLE BAND 101 
 
 never experienced such a witner again. Several very "soft" win- 
 ters have come and gone since that time. The young people of 
 this country will remember that 10. or 12 years ago, we were not 
 favored with one day of good sleighing all winter. Farmers plow- 
 ed nearly every day and could have plowed every day if they had 
 wished to do so. Another winter, 45 or 50 years ago was its equal. 
 My father had prepared for an all-winter log hauling with two yoke 
 of oxen. He had but one outfit, so he bought another yoke of 
 oxen, bobsleds and chains, and all was ready for the hauling of 
 those logs one and a half miles to Youngsville, to the nearest mill, 
 to have them cut into boards, but not a day of sledding came, and 
 consequently not a log was hauled. By the time of the next sleigh- 
 ing, one year afterwards, the logs were so badly decayed and hurt 
 by the worms that we had "cull" boards when they were sawed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 OLD TIME QUADRILLE BAND. 
 
 In another chapter I spoke of dancing, but gave but little dancing 
 news. It will be interesting to the people of to-day to hear a little 
 about the dancing of the olden days. Time was when there was 
 niore dancers in this part of the country than musicians. The 
 violinists who could play and call quadrilles at one and the same 
 time were few and far between. Warren did not have a fiddler in 
 the borough when your humble servant belonged to a quadrille 
 band composed of players from Youngsville and Pittsfield, who 
 had a corner on the clancing music in all Warren county. We 
 played for private parties at Orris Hall's, Thomas Struthers' and 
 other "upper ten" families of the county seat. One night we took 
 but a part of our band, William Stright and son, Orra, and myself. 
 When we arrived at the stone mansion of the Hon. Thomas Struth- 
 ers we found more guests than could dance in the parlors down 
 stairs. We were obliged to split our band and Stright and son took 
 the upstairs_ crowd and I the down stairs crowd. The Struthers 
 house contained an organ up stairs and a piano down stairs. I 
 lacked a piano player to make my music acceptable and I was more 
 than pleased when the cultured, handsome and amiable daughter 
 of Mr. Struthers offered her services and sat down and played a 
 beautiful accompaniment from 10 p. m. until 4 a. m. without miss- 
 ing a set, although her young lady cousin offered to give her a rest 
 
102 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 by taking her place at the piano. She refused, saying that she was 
 not in the least fatigued. A few years after I read of her death 
 with much regret. The remembrance of her helping me out with 
 my side of the music that night still lingers. Without her piano 
 my lone violin would have given out doleful strains for that large 
 crowd of Warren people. 
 
 Being the only quadrille band in the county and our music being 
 in demand, gave us somewhat of a high opinion of ourselves, so we 
 arranged a series of balls in this section of the country. 
 
 We commenced the round at Tidioute. The j'oung people of 
 Grandintown did not tumble over one another to reach our ball. 
 Our aggregation of three musicians only made enough, at so much 
 per couple, to pay our lodging, board and horse feed. We owned 
 our own rig or we should have failed to reach our appointment at 
 the next town, Titusville, where neither Drake nor oil was known 
 at that time. When we arrived at Titusville we found a rather 
 poor prospect of a turnout. Jack McCray, then a mill man, came 
 to the rescue, and saved us from an utter failure by getting out 
 among the 3''oung dancers, with whom he seemed to be immensely 
 popular, and in his impetuous w"ay, got out enough of his young 
 friends to save us from utter defeat. The next morning we found 
 that we lacked one dollar of enough money to pay our hotel bill. 
 As there was but one hotel in town, the landlord had a monopoly 
 of the business, and his bill being a trifle larger than the Tidioute 
 bill, left us one big dollar short. But we soon found that his con- 
 fidence in us fiddlers was as big as his bill. He cheerfully took our 
 word for it, that we would send him the dollar after we reached the 
 the moneyed town of Youngsville. And we kept our word. On 
 our arrival home we enclosed a yellow gold dollar, and our band 
 thereby kept itself in good financial standing. Our band held a 
 council of war, and in about a minute came to the conclusion that 
 disappointment would come to but few if we would call off our 
 appointments ahead of us, and take the shortest route to our homes 
 in the Brokenstraw valley. When, after a pleasant sleighride 
 through Enterprise, and where Grand Valley now stands — no 
 town there at that time — the same with Torpedo, Garland, we 
 called at Pittsfield, where on short notice the sprightly young 
 people of that place got up a dance that exceeded both the others. 
 Thus ended our self appointed dances — only three miles from home. 
 We took this view of the whole thing; that what we lost in time, 
 we made up in knowledge. We learned the fact that the young 
 people knew when they wanted to dance better than we did. 
 
 After that we waited until we were sent for before going to play 
 
OLD TIME QUADRILLE BAND 103 
 
 for a dance. And we were sometimes sent for as often as every 
 night in the week. Once in awhile two dances would come off the 
 same night. Then we would be obliged to divide our band. Sev- 
 eral times I was obliged to ''go it alone" both caUing and sawing on 
 the violin. I think I did more poor playing those days than any 
 other man.^ I never was a match for Ole Bull, but as there were no 
 Y. M C. A's, basket ball gymnasiums or women's clubs, the young 
 people had to do something, and that something was shaking the 
 ''heavy" fantastic heel. Some call it the "light fantastic toe," 
 but I like to have things changed. 
 
 But nothing lasts forever. As time passed along musicians be- 
 came more plenty, some migrating to our country and some ed- 
 ucating themselves. I finally bought a book called "The Violin 
 Without a Master." It was a good and appropriate name for me. 
 I never became master of the vioHn, consequently it was a violin 
 without a master at our house. The first outsider that came to 
 YoungsviUe to compete with our band and capture the affections 
 of the best looking young ladies, was a very prepossessing young 
 man named "Bob" Cross. He captured the whole crowd of danc- 
 ing young people, both male and female. He had only to throw 
 out a hint that he wished a benefit and the ball room would be 
 crowded m a few hours. "Bob" ran the town, as far as the young 
 people were concerned, and many old people thought he was "all 
 wool and a yard wide." All doors were open to "Bob" Cross. He 
 had only to crook his finger and what he wanted was forthcoming. 
 He was an extremely sweet player on the violin, but he "played 
 by ear." He never learned to read music. But he was a sort of 
 Blind Tom m picking up a tune as soon as he heard it. Politics 
 came m handy then and we made him a member of our quadrille 
 band, fearing that he would run us out entirely. He played sev- 
 eral years m our band, then married into a wealthy family, finally 
 dying a few years afterwards. 
 
 Others who have helped me out with my music and have since 
 passed away were Josiah Duprey, who was an honest, easy going 
 young man, and who died about four years ago; Enoch Duprey, 
 brother to Josiah; William Stright, a composer of music, who led 
 a quadrille band many years, and who in his riper years worked in 
 a sawmill at Vowinkle, Forest county, Pa., for a period of ten years 
 and loved his violin so well that he played nearly every evening 
 for the free entertainment of the hardy lumbermen at his boarding 
 house, and who died about five years ago — sending out sweet 
 strains from his viohn until 10 p. m., then went to sleep. In the 
 morning he was found dead in bed. He had played his last tune. 
 
104 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 To my notion, Mr. Stright's only daughter, Nellie, is the best pian- 
 ist in the city of Bradford, where she now resides. I know this is 
 high praise, as Bradford is full of fine pianists. His only son, Orra, 
 is one of the best violinists of the country. Chester Shaw, the 
 bass violin player of our band, met a tragic death at Clarendon, Pa., 
 by falling into a tank of oil and perishing by asphyxiation. An- 
 other, WilHam Jewell, a justice of the peace for many years and a 
 merchant of North Warren, died eight or ten years ago. Of the 
 many who have helped me make music for the dancers of long ago, 
 none but Calender Arthur, of Warren, Pa., and Perry Acocks, of 
 Pittsfield, Pa., are alive to-day. 
 
 Before leaving the subject I must speak of one novelty. At one 
 time our band consisted of William Stright, justice of the peace; 
 Calender Arthur, constable of Brokenstrw township, Pa., Chester 
 Shaw, constable of Pittsfield township, Pa., and G. W. Brown, 
 coroner, Youngsville borough, Warren county, Pa. This gave us a 
 full band of peace officers — enough to keep peace at all times. In 
 those days the balls were made up from mixed crowds. It was 
 seldom that an invitation party was held. It required the whole 
 population to make a ''big crowd." The oil country crowds had 
 not "arrived" at the time I am speaking of. And strnge to say at 
 all those private parties and public balls I never saw a fistic en- 
 counter in the rooms where the ladies and gentlemen were when I 
 was one of the musicians. It is true in writing "Old Times in Oil- 
 dom" I mentioned a knock down on a dancing floor at Petroleum 
 Centre, but I was not one of the regular musicians. I only assisted 
 the regular musicians temporarily or until I was forever frightened 
 away and stopped helping to make music for "wicked dancers." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 CHURCHES IN THE OLD TIMES. 
 
 I will next mention the growth of the churches in the Broken- 
 straw valley. The first church that I in my babyhood attended, 
 was no church at all. It was a school house — my first school house. 
 We sat on pine slabs, with holes bored in them, and with wooden 
 legs driven into the holes. These made seats, but very uncom- 
 fortable ones. There were no backs to them. The occupants 
 were obliged to sit up straight, with no back support, or else they 
 
CHURCHES IN THE OLD TIMES 105 
 
 were forced to lean forward. The singing was carried on without 
 the assistance of musical instruments. No church in Warren 
 count}^ had an organ to lead the untrained singers. Robert and 
 Moses Andrews, two brothers, were the "standbys" in that school 
 house in the singing line. Robert sang soprano, and "Mose" sang 
 bass. To mj^ young ears that bass voice of "Mose" Andrews was 
 melody, indeed. It gave me a kind of hking for the bass part in 
 music, either instrumental or vocal, which is stiH within me at the 
 age of four score. It is very doubtful about my living long enough 
 to lose my liking for this part of a quartette. Alto comes next in 
 the four parts of a quartette, but I had not heard the sweet and 
 captivating strains of the part named alto at that time. Soprano 
 and bass was the whole dependence in all churches in Warren 
 county. This congregational singing, at the old log school house 
 at Garland, was participated in by John McCray, the real standby 
 of the church — the Mandavilles, the Hamiltons, Browns — the 
 father and mother of the writer- — the Uptons and many others, 
 had fine, natural untrained voices, and better melody than one 
 would suppose — considering the absence of tenor and alto — floated 
 out of the windows and doors of that old school house. The preach 
 ers at this "church" were just such as could be picked up occasion- 
 ally. The Bible expounders of those days were not men of very 
 much "book larnin'," but in the matter of real Christianity they 
 were full equals of the college bred doctors of divinity at the present 
 time. 
 
 Well, in the course of time, our family flitted down the creek as 
 far as Youngsville. There we attended a frame church, with a 
 regular preacher. This church was a good type of the church of 
 that day. It had no steeple or belfry. It was a square sort of 
 structure, with a gallery all around, except the end where the tall 
 candlestick pulpit stood. The preacher was obliged to climb a 
 pair of stairs to get into it and when he reached it he had barely 
 room to stand in it. This pulpit had every indication of a scarcity 
 of lumber and space for its diminutive proportions. The choir 
 here had tenor and alto, in addition to the other parts necessary 
 for the making of a good church choir. This was the only church 
 in Youngsville and was a Methodist church, with good and faith- 
 ful members. The standbys were the Meads, Davises, Whitneys, 
 Siggins, McKinneys, Hulls, Arthurs, Kinnears and others. The 
 main singers in the choir were the Arthurs and Davises. The choir 
 sat up in the gallery opposite the pulpit. After a few years an in- 
 novation came in the shape of a big bass viol played by a stump 
 puller named Evans. It was a short lived innovation, After the 
 
106 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 first hymn was sung, with bass viol accompaniments, an old mem- 
 ber of the church whose word was law walked down the aisle, 
 climbed the stairs and came in front of the choir and pointing his 
 finger at the huge instrument exclaimed in a voice not easily mis- 
 understood : ''Take that ungodly fiddle out of this choir and keep 
 it out." The command was obeyed, with alacrity, and that was 
 the first and last bass viol music for that Youngsville choir. When 
 the preacher read the next hymn prof ound silence followed, not a 
 chirp was heard from any member of the choir. Finally a weak 
 quavering voice struck up a hymn and we had congregational 
 singing in that church for a long time. Then as time passed by a 
 choir was organized and strange to relate, an organ crept into this 
 last organization with but little opposition. A gradual change 
 came in music matters. The old member who vetoed the bass viol 
 was just as honest in his opinion that instrumental music was an 
 evil, as the old members of to-day are that instrumental music is 
 a blessing. If the .old gentleman was alive to-day, and could step 
 into General Charles Miller's Sunday School in the First Baptist 
 church of Franklin, Pa., and hear the orchestra of a dozen pieces 
 manipulated by professional musicians, and hear the soul stirring 
 religious hymns that delight the hearts of a thousand worshippers, 
 both young and old, every Sunday afternoon, the year around, he 
 would no doubt enjoy the sweet and soft Heavenly strains as much 
 as any other listener. No man in Youngsville was a more devout 
 worshipper than he, and no man who knew this old man here on 
 earth has the least doubt of his listening for these many years to 
 the Heavenly orchestra that makes sacred music in the golden 
 streets of the New Jerusalem. 
 
 Well, time moves on, and the church of Youngsville has been 
 sold to the Lutheran Swedish congregation, who have tornit down 
 and replaced it by a beautiful brick structure of late design, and 
 the M. E. congregation has a brick building to worship in. In ad- 
 dition to the two churches mentioned above, Youngsville has a 
 Free Methodist church and an Episcopal church, the two latter 
 named built of wood, and before many moons the United Brethren 
 in Christ will have a brick church building here.^ 
 
 And now a few remarks as to many churches in many places in 
 this country. I'll begin with the Cumberland, Tarentum, Pa. 
 I organized an insurance lodge there about 1 8 years since. It is the 
 sociability and lack of sociability of churches that I will speak of. 
 I had for my chaplain the pastor of the church named above. I 
 attended the regular Simday services at his church the first Sunday 
 I spent in town. No man or woman spoke to me. Not one word 
 
CHURCHES IN THE OLD TIMES 107 
 
 to "the stranger in their midst." The next day I met the pastor 
 and in a kind of non-complaining way told him that sociability 
 was at a low ebb in his church. His answer was; "T am well 
 aware of it and have been ever since I came here. Next Sunday 
 I will preach a sermon on sociability." I was on hand the next 
 Sunday and the good man preached a very eloquent sermon. After 
 the benediction was pronounced I remained standing at the end 
 of my pew until nearly the entire congregation had passed out, by 
 me, waiting for a friendly handshake. I waited in vain. One old, 
 bald-headed, fat, good natured looking fellow came up the aisle. 
 My hopes went up. Surely such a pleasant face and open counte- 
 nance would not follow the example of those who had preceeded 
 him. But, like the Priest and the Levite who "passed by on the 
 other side," his ej^es were steadily fixed on the church door and 
 soon he was wending his way to his Sunday dinner without a word 
 for me. I gave all a fair chance to cheer the heart of a lonely 
 stranger, but none seemed to act as if the forcible sermon of their 
 pastor had "struck in." And the only hope I had was that the 
 sermon might, like vaccination, work by degrees by giving it time. 
 The next place I attended church was in a high toned edifice in 
 Pittsburg. Tarentum was reversed here. A very pleasant usher 
 conducted me to a centrally located seat and soon the master of 
 that pew came with his family, wife, daughter and son. After the 
 benediction they introduced themselves in such an agreeable man- 
 ner that I could not help drawing a comparison. The next church 
 visited was the First M. E. church of Parkersburg, W. Va. I hap- 
 pened to sojourn in the West Virginia city three months. During 
 that length of time I attended the First M. E. church 10 times. 
 Here I found the members all "Priests and Levites." They all 
 "passed by on the other side," except the pastor and his wife and 
 one alderman and his wife. These four had joined my insurance 
 lodge and had a fraternal hand to offer me. As to the effect of 
 the lack of sociability, I will state the case of a railroad official's 
 wife. She informed me that she had lived in Parkersburg two 
 years, had attended that church regularly and had seldom been 
 spoken to. She held a transfer letter from another M. E. church 
 but she had concluded never to offer her letter. But now I come 
 to the contrast. I was stopping at the Palace hotel and one Sunday 
 evening got into conversation with a Presbyterian salesman from 
 Cincinnati. He invited me to go with him to the Presbyterian 
 church. He said he was a stranger in the city and would like to 
 have company. I told him that I was a Methodist, but the M. E. 
 church that I had been attending there was but a little above zero 
 
108 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 and I would try the Presbyterians that night; but as the Presby- 
 terians had a great new stone church, resembling a fine theatre, I 
 had my doubts about finding a warmer atmosphere there than at 
 the M. E. But there is nothing like making the effort to find out 
 things. So I accompanied my new made friend and we were soon 
 seated in a pew behind two ladies, who were dressed in their "silks 
 and satins." We were not more than seated by a warm hearted 
 and smiling southern usher than both ladies handed their hymn 
 books to us and gallantly deprived themselves of those useful ar- 
 ticles. When the services closed these pleasant Christian ladies 
 took us by the hand, inquired about our place of residence and in- 
 vited us to come again. It had been so long since I had been 
 treated that way I hardly knew how to act. 
 
 The next Sunday evening I attended the M. E. church South 
 and there I found a duplicate of the Presbyterian reception, only 
 more so. A fine gentleman, son and two daughters, composed 
 the quartette, and that church had fine singing. The leader, or 
 father of the helpers, invited me to dinner the next day and I had 
 good cheer all around, but a surprise awaited me when, in'^addition 
 to the vocal music, they brought forth four instruments and rend- 
 ered some very fine band music. Now don't think me egotistical, 
 for I am writing this to show the great difference between social 
 churches and non-social churches. No one but a wanderer can 
 fully appreciate these things. 
 
 Now let me say a word about the ministers of the gospel. In 
 all my organizing work in getting up and organizing 475 lodges, I 
 never met a better class of men than the preachers of all denomi- 
 nations. They are the most provident men found in the country. 
 Not more than one in 30 omits to carry insurance for the famiHes. 
 They look at it in this light: They are not expected to make and 
 lay up a fortune to protect their families when they are gone. 
 They cannot do it and follow the work of their Lord and Master, 
 but they can pay a dollar or two a month from their salaries and 
 keep their families safe at all times and they do it. No class of 
 men in the country are so generally insured. _ A preacher without 
 insurance is indeed a novelty. I have taken into insurance lodges 
 over 300 preachers of different denominations. Indeed, I have 
 never found a Disciple preacher in all my work in five states who 
 did not become a member of one of my lodges, securing his family 
 against want at the time of his death. I had five ministers of the 
 gospel in one lodge in Clarion, Pa., four M. E. clergymen and one 
 Baptist. About a dozen of my clerical members died, leaving 
 from $1,000 to $2,600 for the protection of their families. One 
 
GOD|BLESS THE SWEDES 109 
 
 Presbyterian minister, Rev. Isaac Smith of Tonawanda, N. Y., 
 died four months after joining, leaving his wife $2,600. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 GOD BLESS THE SWEDES. 
 
 I am going back a little beyond "oildom" to begin 'this particular 
 article. _ My mind wanders back 50 years to a time when we had 
 springtime all winter. In those days the main business was either 
 making shingles or boards, and the hauHng of this lumber made 
 lively times. From the break of day until long after dark a steady 
 stream of teams Hned the streets. Nearly every farm from Youngs- 
 ville to Sugar Grove and beyond into York state had pine trees 
 growing on the uncleared portions. And the uncleared was gener- 
 ally the largest part of the farm. All that a majority of the farm- 
 ers had in those days was a log house in the woods, with a very few 
 acres cleared. Each settler had a log shingle shanty close by his 
 domicile, where, from 4 o'clock in the morning until 10 at night 
 the faithful builder-up of this wild country would be found either 
 "rivmg" or shaving shingles. If he had a voice for singing he 
 would use it for all it was worth. Trouble seldom came to him be- 
 cause of the fact that there was but little in the country to be 
 troubled about— no railroad right of way across his farm to worry 
 about ; no trolley lines being surveyed through his orchard, garden or 
 dooryard; no telegraph poles being set near "the old oaken bucket 
 that hung m the well;" no telephone agent putting a machine in 
 his house despite his remonstrances; no bicycles bumping up 
 against him; no automobiles chasing him into the fence corner and 
 causing his horse to run away; no millionaires being killed by their 
 steam or gasoline wagons; no railroad accidents, for the good rea- 
 son that there was no railroad; but few burglaries; because there 
 was but little money or jewelry to steal; no flying machines, hable 
 to light on the roof of log houses at any moment; no earthquakee 
 worth speaking of; no oil or gas fires; and but few murders, for ths 
 reason that there were but few Harry Thaws and Hains brothers 
 in the country. In fact, the hard working shingle maker had but 
 little to worry about —barring sickness and death, which came to 
 him, as to all mankind, in all ages of the world. Of course there 
 were good and bad shingle makers. The good ones had nothing 
 on their mmds but the happiness of their families, and the bad ones 
 
no OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 had not as many chances to wander from the straight and narrow 
 path as can be found nowadays. There was but Httle bank steal- 
 ing, through dishonest officers, because there were few banks to 
 "break." However, the bad shingle makers had one sin to answer 
 for, and the sin was almost hereditary. In riving his shingles he 
 would split the shingles so close to the knots in the timber that it 
 was impossible to shave them so that they would be of any value 
 whatever. It required five times as much labor to make this 
 crooked shingle fit into the "bunch" nicely to deceive the buyer 
 as it required to shave a good straight shingle. And the timbre 
 in many cases was stolen, costing the maker nothing. It was one 
 of the puzzles "past finding out" why this extra labor should be 
 put on these frauds, which only amounted to some tall swearing 
 by profane carpenters down the Allegheny, Ohio and Mississippi 
 rivers. It would try the heart of the best Christian purchaser of 
 several thousand shingles to find his good money paid to the 
 raftsman that had landed his raft by his river farm about one 
 fourth dead loss. When the purchaser opened the bunches of 
 of shingles his usual way of disposing of this fraudulent part would 
 be to make a bonfire of them. The worst of this business was the 
 fact that the purchaser always found himself short of the required 
 amount of shingles and would be compelled to send off somewhere 
 to buy again before he could put his roof on his building. I never 
 heard of one of the defrauded purchasers putting the law in force 
 against those rascals. The rafts immediately "pulled out" and 
 floated down the river, perhaps cheating several more innocent 
 buyers before the first purchaser had opened a bunch of shingles. 
 The purchaser always pocketed his loss with as much grace as pos- 
 sible rather than undertake to find the man who defrauded him. 
 Pinkerton was not around in those days. Now all the pur- 
 chaser would have to do would be to give warning and he would be 
 a cute shingle seller that could escape the penalty of such a tran- 
 saction. At the present time no such crimes as the ones just de- 
 scribed could take place, as no shingles are shaved by hand and the 
 tall pines are few and far between. Shingles are now made by 
 machinery, as nearly everything else in the way of manufactured 
 goods. The old shingle shanties have all gone the way of the old 
 log houses and indeed the occupants of both are nearly all gone. 
 As a proof of this I will say that I, very recently, counted the 
 deaths that have taken place on four miles of the street leading 
 from Youngsville to Sugar Grove within 50 years. The number 
 surprised me. Although not a village intervenes, only farms 
 all along that road, the number is 137. "All are born to die." 
 
GOD BLESS THH SWEDES 111 
 
 One family on this road, named Duprey, consisted of husband and 
 wife and 14 children. All the children w ere married, save one, 50 
 years ago. Now all— father, mother, sons, daughters, sons-in-law 
 and daughters-in-law— are dead, but the youngest daughter. ' 
 When the timber was gone from this section 'of the country the 
 people first thought they could not make a living without the 
 tall_ green pmes, but time has proved that the clearing and culti- 
 vating of the soil is much more to be depended upon than the pines. 
 Considerable of the wealth of Warren county now consists in nice 
 farms. And let me say that the light haired Swedes have done as 
 much to bring these farms to perfection as the native Americans. 
 Where a few years ago wooded hills, valleys and swamps abounded' 
 beautiful farms, with orchards, painted houses and barns, fat cattle 
 and horses, and everything pertaining to a well-equipped farm are 
 found. God bless the Swedes! They take to the American way 
 of doing things as a duck takes to water. Just stop to think a 
 moment what these people from the bleak country of the Scandi- 
 navians have_ done for us in this part of Uncle Sam's domain. 
 They have built up whole streets in Youngsville and most of the 
 neat farms surrounding the town are owned and occupied by fam- 
 ilies who spell the last syllable of their name with the three letters 
 "son." Then look at Kane, McKean county. Pa. The towii 
 would be in the woods but for these same industrious Johnsons. 
 Swansons, Samuelsons, Thompsons and many other ''sons.'' The 
 traveler who has passed from Kane to Mt. Jewett has noticed the 
 continual string of new farms all along both sides of the B. & O, 
 railroad for the whole distance of 12 miles from Kane to Mt. Jewett'. 
 When I passed these two enterprising towns I was informed by an 
 old settler that every farm, except one, and that was owned by a 
 Frenchman, was owned and occupied by Swedes. It looks as if 
 it were not for the Swedes, owls, bears, and wildcats might now be 
 inhabiting these farmlands. 
 
 Almost the same can be said of the land along the B. & O. road 
 west of Kane. Then look at Jamestown, N. Y. One wing called 
 Brooklyn, I think, is composed entirely of Scandinavians and it is 
 a very prosperous part of the city at the outlet of Chautauqua 
 Lake. A few years ago I attended a county agricultural fair at 
 Jamestown, N. Y. The first thing that attracted my attention 
 was the Fenton, or Prendergast, Guards marching down the side 
 hill street. When I spoke of the melodious music and fine uniforms 
 oi the band and the precise step of the military company to an old 
 resident he informed me that every member of both the band and 
 the military company was a Swede. And when I visited the fair 
 
112 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 grounds and saw the military drill and listened to the strains from 
 those "sons of a cold climate" I thought that surely Jamestown 
 would have had a dull fair if not for her adopted "sons" from 
 Sweden. And I do not have to go to Jamestown and Kane to see 
 the beauties of this foreio;n population. I can travel a mile from 
 the borough of Youngsville to the top of Hull's Hill and cast my 
 eyes westward, southward, eastward, northward, and I see a 
 panorama of fine, well-kept farms stretched out before me. The 
 question arises, "Who cleared up this rough wooded country and 
 made it blossom as the rose?" The answer echoes back: "The 
 Swedes." 
 
 But I have wandered away from my old shingle makers and left 
 them sitting on a bench, pulling the draw shave. Before they 
 were entirely through with this hard work, shingle mills came by 
 slow degrees and circular saws and steam have done the work in 
 fast time. One set of four men will now make 25,000 shingles in a 
 day, whereas 1,000 were a days work for one man by hand. No 
 other than sawed shingles can be found nowadays. The sound of 
 the f row and maul is not heard in the land ; neither are many of the 
 weilders of the maul heard in the land. Their homes are the ceme- 
 teries in the many parts of the lumber region. Their farms are 
 now generally occupied by their descendants, who perhaps but 
 seldom think of the hardships their fathers and mothers endured. 
 They do things so different and everything is so different that 
 thoughts of the absent ones are seldom brought to mind. Some- 
 times an entirely useless old spinning wheel or some other old relic 
 is seen tucked away in some old, dusty garret that is a reminder of 
 times long since gone by. But the sight of an old "little wheel" 
 for spinning flax or a "big wheel" for spinning woolen rolls into 
 yarn, to be knit into stockings, has but little effect on a person 
 who has never heard the buzzing or whizzing of them. The writer 
 of this has heard this kind of music so often in his early boyhood 
 that he can now — in his mind's ear — hear it distinctly as his mother 
 sits, turning the "distaff" and feeding the "little wheel," and his 
 eldest sister is making lively steps pulling out the woolen rolls and 
 making long yarn preparatory to being sent to that intelligent 
 being called the "weaver" of home made clothes on the big wheel. 
 And added to this instrumental music would be the vocal music 
 from both of those loved relatives. 
 
 And when it comes to the subject of derricks, how familiar they 
 become to one who has lived in sight of them ever since the first 
 derrick was built to be used in producing oil. Ill give a leaf from 
 my own experience. About 15 years ago I took a trip into Ohio, 
 
GOD BLESS THE SWEDES 113 
 
 organizing fraternal insurance lodges. I was gone from the old 
 Keystone state four months and in that time organized 15 lodges. 
 When I had worked about three months, without seeing a derrick 
 or getting a smell of the oleaginous fluid, I landed at Prairie depot, 
 0. When I got off the train I saw tall derricks all around me and 
 I also inhaled the, to me, delicious smell of "Seneca" oil. The 
 odor was a little stronger than that in Pennsylvania, but not too 
 strong for me. ^ I will not try to tell the real j oy of the moment. I 
 had been deprived of the sight of a derrick for a long three months, 
 the only three months since the striking of the first oil well in this 
 country. I felt really at home among he "yellow hammers," all 
 on account of the sight of those derricks and the smell of that Ohio 
 oil. The last month of the four I stuck to the oil country and felt 
 very much like being in Pennsylvania. In fact I was among 
 Pennsylvanians. No oil town is complete without Pennsylvan- 
 ians living in it. And it is a well known fact that all oil town's Have 
 new citizens from the old Keystone state, where the oil business was 
 born, and the author feels proud of the fact that he and the oil 
 business were born only nine miles apart. I tarried four days at 
 Prairie Depot, organizing a lodge of 4.0 members, exactlv half 
 "yellow hammer^" and half "bluejays," the latter name given by 
 the Ohio citizens and the former given by the Pennsylvanians, who 
 had taken up their abode among the Ohio oil wells. 
 
 I found a novelty in this town. A native born citizen in the 
 shape of a young man of 20 years took it into his head that he was a 
 barber. He hired a room, bought a chair and a razor or two and 
 put out a striped pole and commenced shaving men; no, not shav- 
 ing, but pulling out their beard by the roots. His method was to 
 seat the customer in the chair, put a dirty towel around his neck 
 niix up some lather, dip his brush into it, spread it on the face of 
 his customer, grab his razor and try to cut off the growth. He 
 made an utter failure of getting all the beard from the face that he 
 made no attempt to soften. He didn't give one second to the 
 
 rubbing of the lather. I stood this kind of torture twice while 
 I was a guest of that town of rich soil, covered with big oil wells and 
 droves of black hogs. I have given this space to the barber free of 
 charge, knowing full well that it will not interest the general reader. 
 Commercial men, who are shaved by many different barbers, will 
 wonder at this, as no doubt nearly all have endured such chairs. 
 I have been shaved by more than a thousand different barbers 
 and I never found this young man's "double." 
 
 I must not close without giving a winding up word to the reader. 
 Those old pioneers have all gone on to a land where the golden 
 
1 14 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 gardens are already cleared and awaiting their arrival. Their 
 descendants are enjoying the improvements of the age. The 
 shingle shaving was finished before their fathers left this earthly 
 abode. Now a trolley runs from Youngsville to Sugar Grove, also 
 three 'phone lines and a mail delivery route, so you see these de- 
 scendants have no need of losing a day occasionally going to town 
 on horseback, in a buggy or afoot for little errands. The old set- 
 tlers never dreamed of these conveniences. These time savers 
 make wealthy tillers of the soil. The farmer now raises blooded 
 horses and cattle and sells them for double the money that his 
 father could get, and chickens, eggs and crops of all kinds bring a 
 price unbelievable to the "old man," who split and shaved the 
 shingles. The prices on farmers' goods now make the farmer 
 smile and the townsman frown. The next thing that happens 
 will be the opulent farmer riding in his automobile, and some of 
 them do that very thing now, and others are financially able to do 
 so. So the world moves on at a great pace. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 YOUNGSVILLE FOUNDERS AND BUSINESS MEN. 
 
 What will the end be? 
 
 I thought I had "Old Times in Oildom" finished when I wrote 
 the last chapter. But since that time I have thought of many 
 things that ought to be said of Youngsville that would show the 
 great changes that have taken place in this one little spot since I 
 made my appearance on this earth. 
 
 About 65 years ago Amasa Ransom owned and occupied a farm 
 one mile from Youngsville. He also owned a sawmill at Garland. 
 Most all owners of sawmills were farmers also at that time. They 
 raised the hay and oats on their farms that kept their teams in good 
 order while hauling the logs to the mills. The farm and mill ran 
 in connection, a kind of "a wheel within a wheel." When a farmer 
 would get a little money put away in a stocking — no banks then — 
 he would build a sawmill. It did not cost as much to build a mill 
 in those days as it does now. The farmer and his boys would cut 
 down big trees and make a dam, hew out some square timber and 
 make a frame building, put in a little machinery, consisting of a 
 water wheel, wooden frame or sash for one saw, set in an upright 
 position, the only saw of any kind in the mill, make a wooden 
 
YOUNGSVILLE FOUNDERS 115 
 
 carriage, and that was about all there was to it. The owner and 
 his farm help would do all the work except a few days work by a 
 millwright, who made the water wheel and bossed the hanging of 
 the saw in the sash and looked after the "scientific" part of the 
 busmess._ A good millwright stood as high in the estimation of the 
 community in general as Edison or Marconi does now. He was 
 paid the magnificent sum of from S2 to $3 a day. It required but 
 a few hundred dollars to put a saw mill in running shape. But it 
 took a great deal of hard work to get the money back with the best 
 of pme lumber bringing $4 per thousand feet, or about one-eighth 
 part of the present price in Pittsburg. Perhaps it brought half 
 that amount at the mill. 
 
 Our family lived near Garland. Mr. Ransom, having bought 
 the mill and lands belonging at Tiona, Warren county. Pa., after- 
 wards known as the "Joe" Hall property, and still later owned by 
 Clapp, Stone & Co., with 7,000 acres of oil lands, came to Garland 
 and persuaded my father to rent his farm near Youngsville, as 
 he wanted to move to his newly acquired property. My father 
 did not need much coaxing to induce him to leave his log house in 
 the woods and come to the "big city" of Youngsville, with one 
 store and two blacksmith shops, one tavern and one church and 
 two little wooden schoolhouses, one on each side of the creek, and 
 perhaps some other "big places of business" that have escaped my 
 memory. The first work that I did after being settled on our new- 
 ly rented farm was to yoke up the oxen "Buck and Bright," and 
 jom a procession of four yoke of oxen and their drivers and 'travel 
 one mile and a half up Matthews Run to the farm now owned and 
 occupied by O. P. Brown, and hitch to one of the largest hickory 
 trees ever seen in this section. In a few hours that mammoth 
 tree was lymg on the bank of the Brokenstraw creek, in the village 
 of Youngsville. In a day or two the best Democratic carpenters 
 m Youngsville had that big tree peeled and shaped into one of the 
 largest "James K. Polk" liberty poles in western Pennsylvania. 
 And m a few days more a great gathering of Democrats took place 
 and with rope and tackle, "a few jugs of that which gave them 
 courage," and spread eagle oratory and fuss enough to launch a 
 war vessel, and Colonel William S. Roney for boss, the tallest and 
 straightest Democratic hickory pole, with the largest flag waving 
 from its _ tiptop, in Warren county, honored the Democrats of 
 Youngsville. My father was alwavs an ardent Democrat. He 
 raised three sons up true to his doctrine, but only one remains true 
 to his father's teaching. That one still lives on the old homestead 
 where the big "Polk and Dallas" hickorv pole was cut. Two of 
 
1 16 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 his sons have forTmany years voted the Prohibition ticket. 
 
 At the time I made my debut into Youngsville society by driving 
 our oxen on the occasion mentioned above, 12 young men, the 
 cream of the town, had a society organized named ''The Youngs- 
 ville Glee club." They had a wagon box with this name on the 
 outside in large letters. About once a month they would hitch 
 two spans of horses to a wagon and put that box on it, each taking 
 his best girl with him, making 25, counting the driver, and go to 
 some outlying village, take supper — it would be dinner now — and 
 have a good time in general. One of their number, in the course 
 of time, went west "to grow up with the country," and left a vacan- 
 cy. At their next meeting the writer of this was duly elected a 
 member to fill the vacancy, the ox-driver, a mile out in the country, 
 the only out-of-town boy in the club. I felt somewhat lonely, but 
 happy. To think that of the many out-of-town boys I was the 
 chosen one was enough to give me the "Big Head." But I put on 
 the brakes and my head kept its normal size. And not to be ego- 
 tistical, I tried not to dishonor the club and stuck to it until the 
 old wagon box rotted away and is now only a memory. 
 
 I am going to speak of a few of the old settlers that made Youngs- 
 ville what it was at that time. The first that comes to mind are 
 John Mead and William Siggins. Judge Siggins lived in Youngs- 
 ville and owned a sawmill and a gristmill, had a wife and 13 child- 
 ren. The Judge was a very tall man — over six feet— and his wife 
 was a very short woman. Nine of the Judge's children were boys. 
 There were no mowing machines and the hay was all cut with 
 scythes. The Judge would march at the heacl of his line of sons 
 and when they would reach the meadow the 10 would start in, the 
 Judge leading, and how that timothy did come down at their bidd- 
 ing. When one or more are mowing in the same field they have 
 to "keep stroke." Watching this one family of 10 taking the even 
 swing together was a sight not seen every day, even m the day of 
 no mowing machines. And then, in a field of ordinary length, 
 when they came out at the end of the field, an acre of new mown 
 hay was drying in the sun. The old Judge was a character. When 
 he took hold of anything he generally "got there." At one time 
 he served as constable 12 years. Every year he was elected with- 
 out much opposition until the twelfth year, when the people 
 thought they would make a change and let some one else have a 
 chance. But they elected the Judge to the office of high constable, 
 an office which at that time carried but little business with it. A 
 high constable could only do a little borough business. The Judge 
 surprised everybody by getting a special law passed by the legis- 
 
YOUNGSVILLE FOUNDERS 117 
 
 lature giving the high constable of Youngsville borough a legal 
 right to do any kind of business that the regular constable could 
 do. And that has been the law to this day. The Judge made an 
 excellent constable under the old law and the business was nearly 
 all put into his hands under the new law, and the income was as 
 great as it was under the old law. The regular constable regarded 
 it as a good joke and took up another business. At 88 years of an 
 active, well spent life the Judge said good bye to all earthly things 
 and passed away. 
 
 And now comes in the coincidence. John Mead's family was a 
 double of the William Siggins family. John Mead had a 
 sawmill and gristmill, a mile up Brokenstraw, and a family of 13 
 children. _ He was as tall as Mr. Siggins, and his wife was as short 
 as Mrs. Siggins. Seldom, if ever, "could such a coincidence be 
 found. The nearest to this case that has come under my observa- 
 tion is a Mr. Cross and a Mr. Morrison, living at Parthenia, six 
 miles below Irvineton, on the Allegheny river. They were next 
 door neighbors; only a school house between them, and each had 
 13 children. 
 
 Another of the pioneers in the Brokenstraw valley was H. P. 
 Kinnear. He was born and reared in Youngsville, and as he grew 
 into manhood he became a leader in the business of the town. Ev- 
 erything ^retaining to the good of the town he engineered to the 
 best of his ability. To tell all the benefit that Henry Kinnear was 
 to this town would take more time than I have to spare. But I 
 mention a few of the things that he did to help make Youngs- 
 ville a nice, well-regulated place to live in. It was by his move- 
 ments that the little village became a borough more than 50 years 
 ago. There was no other borough in Warren county execpt War- 
 ren. Now there are eight boroughs. He succeeded in organizing 
 Youngsville lodge, Ho. 500, I. O. 0. F., about 60 years ago, and 
 was elected as representative to the Grand Lodge every year while 
 he lived after the organization, 40 years. He, as burgess and coun- 
 cilman, brought about many improvements that will stand as 
 monuments to his love for Youngsville for all time to come. One 
 of the principal landmarks is the Odd Fellows cemetery. The 
 cemetery overlooks the borough from a beautiful eminence about 
 a mile away. This "City of the Dead" was the pride of his life un- 
 til life_ ended for him about 20 years ago. He gave of his time 
 freely in bringing about borough improvements of all kinds, one of 
 which was to make a nearly level grade on all streets and sidewalks. 
 If a rise of ground appeared anywhere on the main streets it was 
 plowed and scraped and carted away until the surface was smooth 
 
1 18 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 and even. The same with the sidewalks. If a bum ■ appeared it 
 was soon leveled, and if a shade tree was an iiich or two inside the 
 six-foot limit it had to be shoved out to the proper place or taken 
 away entirely. In getting this accomplished Mr. Kinnear made 
 many enemies, but he went his way unmoved by the grumbling 
 of the tree owners and now when he and a majority of the grumb- 
 lers have gone to their eternal homes, about 10 miles of shale brick 
 sidewalks are laid on a level foundation, the grading being done 
 years ago under the supervision of this same H. P. Kinnear. I 
 was not one of the grumblers, but I was obliged to lower the ground 
 at one end of my sidewalk and cut nearly half the roots off of some 
 nice hard maple shade trees. And I ami one of the inhabitants of 
 the town who have been permitted by the Great Ruler of the Uni- 
 verse to live to see the time that I can walk about 10 miles on the 
 different streets on level brick walks and not stub a toe. But I 
 am not done with Mr. Kinnear yet. He, at different times in his 
 rather eventful life, filled town offices, being sheriff, member of the 
 state legislature and treasurer, chairman of committee on Grand 
 hotel and superintendent of the grounds of Point Chautauqua. 
 In fact, he held all of these offices at one and the same time. And 
 at the time of his death he was president of the Youngsville Sav- 
 ings Bank. Hon. H. P. Kinnear has left his footprints in Youngs- 
 ville for all time to come. The borough has the appearance of a 
 park in certain places because of his work. 
 
 Charles Whitney was another old-time citizen who did a great 
 deal to make a beautiful place of Youngsville. He owned nearly 
 half the land inside the borough line, nearly all west of the Broken- 
 straw creek. He owned a sawmill about two miles up the creek 
 and was both a farmer and a lumberman. His big farm in Youngs- 
 ville was covered with pine stumps. He bought a stump machine 
 and summer after summier could be seen from break of day until 
 dark working with his men, not bossing alone, but doing as much 
 work as any of his hired men. Mr. Whitney raised four children. 
 All are, however, dead now. His oldest son, Captain George 
 "Whitney, did his full share toward putting down the Rebellion. 
 He got up one company, took it to the front and turned it into 
 Colonel Roy Stone's Bucktail regiment, then came back and raised 
 another company and took it to the front. He sta3^ed with this 
 company until the war closed. 
 
 Another citize;i of this place is R. P. Davis, a sweet singer, born 
 and reared in this town. He has been singing tenor in the Meth- 
 odist Episcopal church for the last 50 years. He has missed but 
 few Sundays in his time and considering special occasions would. 
 
YOUNGSVILLE FOUNDERS 119 
 
 more than average twice. But calling it twice each Sunday, it 
 would count 5,200 trips and about the same number of miles 
 traveled. Counting three hjmms to each service, this shows that 
 he has sung 15,600 hymns. Re has, in addition to that, spent 
 about two years' time in the 50 years, in singing at funerals. He 
 has done all this free of charge. In the above mentioned time he 
 has worked a farm, has been sexton of the cemetery 16 years, has 
 been either burgess or councilman 14 years, and has been superin- 
 tendent of the county farm here three years. All of this inside 
 50 years. Truly, Reuben has been on the move within the last 
 half century. 
 
 Alden Marsh was one of Youngsville's well-wishers and workers 
 for the town's advancement. He was a successful lumberman and 
 retired with a competency in middle life. He filled the office of 
 county commissioner for three successive terms with great ability. 
 He was a leading Odd Fellow and the I. 0. O. F. band turned out 
 and played solemn dirges at his funeral. When he was in business 
 and had plenty of money, and I was a young chap, just commenc- 
 ing business without money, all I had to do was to ask Mr. Marsh 
 for a thousand dollars to use in buying and running lumber to 
 Pittsburg and selling it, and it would be forthcoming. He never 
 refused me, and this borrowing was repeated many times. When 
 he died he left his property and cash in bank to his wife. He had 
 no children and when his wife died the property and cash all went 
 to Mrs. Marsh's relatives in Minnesota. No provision was made 
 for keeping his lot in the cemetery lawn-mowed and in proper 
 order, but in these long years since Mrs. Marsh's death no weeds or 
 briers have grown on the Marsh lot. For I cannot bear to see a 
 tangle of weeds and briers growing on the grave of such a good old 
 financial friend of the long ago. 
 
 John McKinney was another of the moulders of Youngsville. 
 He was one of the first born after the old Scotchman, Matthew 
 Young, drove stakes and marked out the site for the town of 
 Youngsville. He was the oldest of a family of seven boys and a 
 girl. He, like every provident young man of nearly a century 
 ago, went into the lumber business, and accumulated a large quan- 
 tity of land on the waters of the Brokenstraw creek and its branch- 
 es. Part of it cost him but a few cents per acre, which he bid off 
 at tax sales, as unseated ''lands." But the bulk of his land was 
 bought privately. He paid the full value for it. But the full 
 value was not a large amount at that time, when men were working 
 hard, cutting, piling up and burning nice pine timber to make 
 room for very scant crops. Land that was groaning under the 
 
120 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 weight of the very finest timber that ever stood out of doors was 
 sold at SI. 50 per acre. I have bought, at that rate, of the Huide- 
 kopers, rather than just take it. It was "all the go" to cut where 
 one could find it, but I always felt a little safer cutting my own 
 timber than Huidekopers'. However, I don't feel like bragging 
 because of my honesty. The reader can just call it cowardice, and 
 let it go at that. 
 
 _ But to return to John McKinney. His pine-covered lands kept 
 rising, and then how they did rise when Drake struck oil at Titus- 
 ville! Mr. McKinney owned 100 acres near Hosmer Run, a mile 
 above Garland. When they drilled with a spring pole he got a 
 smell of oil and sold it for $20,000. This hundred acres was bid 
 in at a tax sale for a few cents an acre. Great is oil. At that 
 time Mr. McKinney could walk from Youngsville to Irvineton — 
 three miles — on his own land, by zigzagging to the sidehill at a 
 couple of places. He sold several hundred acres of his land hold- 
 mgs at oil prices. When Mr. Mckinney was transacting this 
 business mentioned above his two nephews, John L. and "Curt 
 McKinney, two miles from Youngsville were helping their father 
 James McKinney, run a little sawmill, propelled by an old fashion- 
 ed wooden water wheel. But when their uncle John died several 
 weeks later, worth nearly a quarter of a million dollars, these two 
 boys were beginning to lay the foundation for their fortunes of 
 millions of dollars. 
 
 John McKinney was a man who loved to help those who tried to 
 help themselves. A case in proof of this: When I was emerging 
 from boyhood to manhood I borrowed $150 of him to pay the 
 Huidekopers for 100 acres of pine timberland. Two years later I 
 called with money and interest to pay back the borrowed money. 
 When I spoke of interest his answer was this: "I don't charge 
 interest to young men who are trying to do something for them- 
 selves." He would not and did not take a dollar of interest, al- 
 though I expected to pay it and came prepared for it. John Mc- 
 Kinney was a business man all his lifetime of about SO years. He 
 never bothered himself about office, with the exception of one term 
 of three years as sheriff of Warren county, which the voters forced 
 upon him. W^hen he died he was the richest man on the Broken- 
 straw creek, from its mouth to the headwaters in the state of New 
 York. His oldest son, Arthur McKinney, now lives in this place 
 and has done much to test the territory between Youngsville and 
 Irvineton for oil and gas. He is more encouraged at the present 
 time than ever before; has faith that we have a paying oil field 
 between Youngsville and Irvineton. The big flood of 1892 swept 
 
NEW TIMES IN OILDOM 121 
 
 everything before it, and business had not been resumed until re- 
 cently. As one well had put 150 barrels into a 250 barrel tank be- 
 fore the flood, and oil, tank and all were swept down the Broken- 
 straw and the well has not been touched since, Mr. McKmney 
 has faith enough to clean out that well and try again. 
 
 Phillip Mead, Esq., was one of the substantial residents for oO 
 years. He held the ofhce of Justice of the Peace for 25 years with- 
 out a break. He was one of the leading merchants of this place 
 for 40 years. And when it came to church matters, he was an 
 authority. No service was complete without his presence. He 
 was always to be found at the Thursday evening prayer meeting 
 at the M. E. church, as well as all Sunday services. He leaves a 
 son, y^ . J. Mead, who keeps up his father's reputation for business. 
 He runs the leading hardware store of the town, and a daughter, 
 .Callie Mead, now holds the position of assistant cashier in the 
 First National Bank of Youngsville. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 NEW TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 In a recent chapter I spoke of the pioneers who have made 
 Youngsville what it is. Now I am going to write something which 
 will sound more like "New Times in Oildom." Here goes: six- 
 teen years ago Youngsville was like a majority of the small towns 
 of the country, nearly at a standstill. Although the location was 
 far ahead of any town of its size in Warren county, being situated 
 in a beautiful valley, averaging a mile wide, ten miles long, under- 
 laid with gravel, where an iron pipe can be driven down 30 or 40 
 feet in a few hours, and the very best of pure, cold, soft water ob- 
 tained, its growth was slow. It lacked manufactories. There 
 was considerable money, owned by people who were very conser- 
 vatiye. They preferred to keep their money in the banks, at 
 small interest, to risking it in any kind of speculative business. 
 Money makes a poor showing in that way, in fact no showing at aU. 
 That was about the condition of affairs at Youngsville when W. P. 
 Nutting, a young oil opf^rator who had formerly lived in Youngs- 
 ville, but who for several years had been a very much alive Clar- 
 endon oil operator— came to his former home town and started a 
 bank. Then "Charley" Kay came from Stilson Hill, t.with little 
 money but with lots of business energy, and went into the steam 
 
122 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 sawmill business. From that business he entered the steam grist- 
 mill business, with John Sheldon, another Stilson Hill man as a 
 partner. The big flood of 1892 carried the mill off, leaving nothing 
 but a big hole in the ground. The engine was found nearly a 
 quarter of a mile down the creek, almost hidden by gravel and 
 stones. That ended the mill business for ''Charlie," but he had 
 an appetite for business that could not be quenched by the loss of 
 one mill, and a few weeks after the flood found him with Peter 
 Turner and Amil Sagerdahl, starting up a furniture factory in a 
 building reconstructed from a private house. One addition after 
 another was put to this small beginning, until a large and rather 
 commodious furniture factory reared its proud head in the hereto- 
 fore quiet Youngsville. Then, when "everything was lovely," 
 one quiet evening the fire bell rang, and Youngsville's pride was 
 soon a heap of smouldering ruins. And Youngsville lay all sum- 
 mer "in sackcloth and ashes." But C. H. Kay, superintendent,- 
 and his always to be depended upon secretary and treasurer, M. 
 D. Whitney, were not covered with ashes. They were planning 
 the building of a new factory of triple the capacity, and built in a 
 much more convenient place than the old one. And the result is 
 a $250,000 factory, which has paid for itself, and is now bringing 
 to its stockholders enormous dividends. But a word of explan- 
 ation is necessary in this connection. Only $15,000 of stock was 
 sold at the beginning. It now pays dividends on a $250,000 plant. 
 No stock is for sale in this institution. And this is not all. Both 
 Kay and Whitney are interested in nearly all the improvements 
 of the town. This large factory employing 150 men is not all. 
 Both the gentlemen named above have done good work for the 
 town, both in erecting of new buildings and in all things pertaining 
 to the advancement of Youngsville. Besides the individual 
 efforts of these two gentlemen, their example has been far-reaching. 
 Two years ago another furniture factory was built, with a capacity 
 for 200 workmen. The main instigators of this factory were 
 Amil Sagerdahl andE.Swanson — Sagerdahl being superintendent. 
 Then the Gem Mirror Works of Jamestown, N. Y., came and put 
 up a plant as the result of the influence exerted by these two furni- 
 ture factories. This shows that in the business line one thing 
 follows another. And in building for private families A. F. Swan- 
 son takes the lead. This man is an enigma. About 20 years ago 
 he opened a little grocery store with about $400. To-day he owns 
 a half dozen stores, dwelling houses sheltering 20 families, owns a 
 hotel, the Youngsville house, owns considerable stock in both 
 furniture factories, in the Gem Mirror Works, in the First National 
 
NEW TIMES IN OILDOM 123 
 
 Bank, of which he is a director, also the Forest Manufacturing 
 company. He owns an opera house, owns stock in the Standard 
 Shale Brick plant, and other properties "too numerous to mention." 
 Mr. Swanson has not made any sensational strikes in the way of 
 speculation. He has conducted a store all these years, and has 
 quietly accumulated somewhere in the neighborhood of $100,000. 
 E. C. Swanson, brother of A. F. Swanson, has also done his full 
 share of helping Youngs ville. 
 
 C. A. Hazard is another man who believes in making homes for 
 new-comers. For several years he erected two first-class tene- 
 ment houses each year. A. F. Peterson is another gentleman who 
 has built a nice row of brick houses along west main street. Mr. 
 Peterson is the president of the Gem Mirror plant and is one of the 
 foremost capitalists of our town. He owns stock in nearly all 
 the industrial plants in the place. E. A. McDowell, superintend- 
 ent and secretary of the Forest Gas company, is another of our 
 foremost business upbuilders of the town, assisted by his three sons, 
 one of whom. Forest, has gone west, ''to grow up with the country." 
 Roy is one of Uncle Sam's "mail route agents," and Fred is cashier 
 of the First National bank of Youngsviile. Charles Newgreen 
 is another man who has been active in the work of helping to 
 double the population of the town in the last five years. 
 
 Hon. J. B. White, a former resident of Youngsviile, but now a 
 resident of Kansas City in the winter, and Chautauqua Lake in 
 the summer, has done his share in the educational line. Three 
 years ago he built a High School building costing $25,000 in memory 
 of his dead son Frank. In the same year the Currie Memorial In- 
 dustrial school building was erected. J. T. Currie, a wealthy resi- 
 dent, died about 19 years ago, leaving money on interest for the pur- 
 pose of putting up a building where the boys can learn to do carpen- 
 terwork, iron work — work at other trades — thereby educating the 
 hands as well as the head ; a place where the girls can also learn the 
 art of cooking and sewing. At the same time the old four story 
 wooden school building was veneered with No. 1 Standard Shale 
 brick and overhauled generally. Now we have a row of three 
 brick school buildings, fronting on College street, with a back 
 ground of three acres for a playground for the children. I have 
 traveled a groat deal in New York state, Pennsylvania, Ohio, 
 West Virginia and Canada, and I have never seen a town of 2,000 
 inhabitants have as many nice school buildings as this town has. 
 And we have the living J. B. \\ hite and the dead J. T. Currie to 
 thank for two of the finest of the buildings. Both of these mag- 
 nificient gifts were turned over to the Youngsviile School Board 
 
124 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 as free gifts. 
 
 C. S. Mead, the leading dry goods merchant of this place, has 
 also been one of our town builders. He owns the old H. P. Kin- 
 near farm, which is situated near the centre of the borough, and 
 has there a little village of his own. 
 
 Among the newcomers is Robert Slater, a man who has made a 
 great deal of money along the Allegheny river at the lumber busi- 
 ness. He is a good citizen to have lying around loose. He takes 
 stock in all manufactories that are being built. 
 
 This is an answer to the question often asked, "What makes 
 Youngsville grow so fast?" It is the enterprising moneyed men. 
 And let me add that the town is often helpod by the enterprising 
 and ''moneyed ladies." Mrs. Laura Jackson aiid Mrs. Frank Kay 
 built two of the finest of the many brick houses erected last year. 
 Mrs. McCormick, Miss Callie Mead and other ladies own nice 
 brick houses. Oh, yes, the ladies are doing their full share of the 
 work of making Youngsville what it is to-day; the only town of 
 its size that I know of which has laid about ten miles of shale brick 
 side walk within the last five years, and doubled its population in 
 the same length of time, except of course towns that have struck 
 oil or gas, or opened coal mines. 
 
 Another who must not be left out among the helpers in Youngs- 
 ville, is H. C. Preston, who has been the superintendent of the 
 Rouse hospital farm here for the last 12 years. 
 
 John A. Day, a man who was born here, about 50 years ago, is 
 counted among one of the most enterprising citizens of the borough. 
 He, single handed and alone, promoted the Warren County Trac- 
 tion Co. He brought C. H. Smith, G. W. Wood, Mr._ Gibson, Mr. 
 Bailey and other moneyed men of Sheffield, and William Culbert- 
 son, of Girard, the wealthiest man in Erie county, Pa., into the 
 company which made it a success from the start. The roadbed 
 is cut and filled the whole nine miles, making it a road for both 
 passengers and frieght. The road will soon be extended from 
 Sugar Grove to Chautauqua, a distance of about 16 miles, and 
 from Youngsville to Warren, a distance of nine miles. Then it 
 will be one of the best paying properties of the kind in the country. 
 No roads, either steam or electric, parallel it from Youngsville to 
 Chautauqua. It has a splendid farming country all to itself. Mr. 
 Day has not let this monopolize his mind entirely. Just to fill 
 in his time while he has been building the trolley road on his 
 own hook he has built telephone lines nearly all over Warren coun- 
 ty. And his only son, Archie, "is a chip of the old block." Archie 
 has stuck up his poles and strung his wires and does the "hello" 
 
;"DUNC" KARNS AND "TOM" KING 125 
 
 business for the wealthy and enterprising town of Sheffield, 22 
 miles east of Youngsville. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "DUNC" KARNS AND "TOM" KING. 
 
 Noticing the announcement of the death of _S. D._ Karns brings 
 very forcibly to my mind once again "Old Times in Oildom" m 
 Parker City. I owned a lumber yard in that noted city at its 
 inception. "Dune," as he was called by everybody, lived in his 
 oil country house, next door to my lumber office. He was a lively 
 oil operator and no mistake. All he had to do was to drill a hole in 
 the ground and get a big gusher of five or ten hundred barrels a day. 
 Oil was four dollars a barrel, and his income was simply immense. 
 Everything he took hold of melted into great piles of money. He 
 bought, or leased, the McClimens farm, one mile and a half south 
 of Petrolia, and aside from the gusher oil wells, he made a nice little 
 pile in lots, on which to build "Karns City." The writer of this 
 bought ground for an opera house, a restaurant and hotel and a 
 city office, where was located the lumber business and Western 
 Union telegraph office, and land on which the lumber yard was 
 situated. All these pieces of land were situated in the western 
 part of the town, and when the town burned, a cross street was all 
 that saved my property. My chief loss was simply some orna- 
 mental cut glass in the "telegraphic" part of the building, worth 
 but a couple of hundred dollars. This would have been saved if 
 the wild, noisy crowd of men had obeyed my instructions not to 
 carry it out, but to let it take its chances, as there was but a cross 
 street between my building and the fire, and as the fire companies 
 from Parker City, PetroHa and Millerstown each had a stream of 
 water on the fire, I felt in but little danger. But they paid not the 
 least attention to me. They were crazy, and they rushed past me 
 as I stood in the front door, and a half dozen grabbed the frame 
 work and carried the whole business out and into the middle of the 
 street, where they dumped it into the mud, and the fire companies 
 soon made mince meat of it. After that fire, Karns City was part- 
 ly rebuilt, but it never fully recovered from the damage. But it 
 is to-day far from being a toad-stool town. It is a pretty Jittle 
 farming village, reinforced by many old time wells, and it will be 
 a success as long as good producing farms abound in that region. 
 
126 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 But back to "Dune" Karns. He was "it" in everything per- 
 taining to the business of Parker City and vicinity. Any kind 
 of business that did not have Karns attached to one or the other 
 end of the names of it was considered "small potatoes." It was 
 Parker and Karns City .railroad," "Karns bank," "Karns bridge," 
 Karns City," "Karns pipe line," in fact he was the main spring. 
 "Dune" was not one of these business men who go around with a 
 troubled look on his face. No, Indeed! He scattered sunshine 
 every day. He mixed pleasure with business, and had a good 
 time generally. He was a young man, full of life and energy when 
 his great piles of money fell upon him. The weight of his money 
 did not crush him. He never put on money airs, and made him- 
 self disagreeable to the average man. He would play a game of 
 billiards with a respectable oil worker with as much enjoyment 
 as he would have had playing with the owner of a thousand-barrel 
 well. I recollect one little mark of prideo n his part,- however. He 
 bought a billiard cue, finished with silver trimmings. The billiard 
 man kept Mr. Karn's cue in a separate receptacle from the other 
 sticks. Although this looked somewhat "uppish," "Dune" bought 
 it for what it was, a finely wrought plaything. 
 
 The first sign of opulence on "Dune's" part was the building of 
 a fine brick mansion a few miles below Freeport, Pa. He graded 
 a lawn all around it, large enough for a common sized farm, with 
 a nice setting of evergreens all over it. This place was on the 
 opposite side of the Allegheny river from his boyhood home — 
 Karns eddy. But the old saying is, "It's a long lane that has no 
 turning." The lane was turned with "Dune," but turned the 
 wrong way. He was not the first to dip in a little too deep, nor 
 will he be the last The oil country is paved with men who have 
 made and lost money. The writer speaks from experience, he 
 having earned a small fortune in two years and lost it in one. 
 You see by this that you can go down hill twice as fast as you can 
 go up. At a certain time when the oil business was at its height, 
 there were 30 lumber yards in the lower oil regions. These lumber 
 yards were all doing a good business, when, lo and behold 1 oil 
 dropped froni $3.00 a barrel to 50 cents a barrel. Then the lumber 
 men got it "in the neck." Oil operators by the score, who had 
 been paying then- lumber bills everv 30 days, went into bankruptcy 
 One little bit of an example is this; One operator, who had been 
 one of my best customers, failed for $1,500,000. Then where was 
 my $900 lumber bill? This kind of thing was not uncommon. 
 Out of this number, 30 yards, only two came off unscathed — 28 
 having found the oil country a slippery place to do business in. 
 
"DUNC" KARNS AND "TOM" KING 127 
 
 Monoy slipped into the dealers pocket easily, but it slipped out 
 again much more easily and tjuickly than it came. You may ask 
 28 lumber yard owners if tivoy do not agree with me. One of the 
 surviving two is now dead, leaving but one witness in favor of the 
 beauties of the lumber business in the "lower oil regions. "_ 
 
 The Parker City of to-day in a business point of view, is not a 
 Klindow of its former self. I feel inclined to give one incident of 
 many that could be given to show the strenuous way the Allegheny 
 VaUey railroad had of doing business. The railroad being on the 
 opposite side of the river from Parker City, with only & wire cable 
 to guide a ferry boat across the stream, made it anything but easy 
 to do business in the new and hustling town. Everything was 
 "hurly-burly." The short side track at the "Phillips House" 
 could not hold half the cars sent to the new oil town, and the cars 
 would be "switched" off at Foxburg, three miles above, or at Bear 
 Creek, one mile below, and they would lie there until a small open- 
 ing on the switch at the Phillips Rouse could make room for one 
 or two cars. Then the cars destined for Parker City would be 
 "switched in." One day the freight train men put two car loads 
 r)f lumber for ray yard, lumber needed at once for oil well purposes, 
 on the Bear Creek end of the side track. No room was made for 
 cars for nearly a w<^ek, and no team could get near the cars to un- 
 load the lum.ber. As "gondolas" were in great demand about that 
 time the railroad could not well spare its cars a week at a time lying 
 idle on a side track. Consequently "Tom" King, assistant sup- 
 erintendent of the road, came up from Pittsburg and ordered his 
 track workers to pitch my lumber down the steep bank onto the 
 gravelly beach. There it was, partly in the water and partly out 
 of the water, before I was even aware of the "King's" decree. 
 Well, my customers were in a great hurry for the lumber and I put 
 my own team and a couple of other teams at work hauling that 
 lumber nearly a half mile up that river beach over gravel, and 
 rocks and up a steep bank. A team could haul about one quarter 
 of a load at a trip, and it was fully $100 damage to me considering 
 the breakage and extra teaming, lost time and everything. I had 
 not time to sue the railroad company. _ "Tom" King had not time 
 to lose with a lawsuit, and the most important of all the reasons 
 for not suing the railroad was that T had a free pass over the road 
 from year to year, and if I had resented "Tom's" mean action it 
 would have, in all probability, had a bad effect on that pass. And 
 as the pass covered the Allegheny Valley road and its branches, 
 and I was over the road very often, I figured that it would not take 
 a great while to "deadhead" $100 worth of transportation in my 
 
128 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 kind of business. So "Tom" King was not put into the sheriff's 
 hands to answer for his unheard of way of doing uuheard of things. 
 I hear that "Tom" King, with a big "K," is still railroading in 
 the western country somewhere. _ If he takes such liberties with 
 some of those cowboys as he did with me he would have to "excuse 
 himself" at the point of one of their playthings, a revolver. But 
 what is the use of being named King if you can't be a King. 
 
 It was uphill and downhill business those days to run a lumber 
 yard in the new Eldorado even when the hard-worked yard master 
 could get a car on that little short side track at the Phillips house 
 where wagons could reach it. It was no picnic to get the lumber 
 to the yard on the other side of the river. When the teamster was 
 lucky enough to get his team in through the crowd of teams it re- 
 quired two men to load the wagon, one on the railroad car and 
 another on the wagon. Then the brakes had to be put on good 
 and hard to get down the steep river bank and onto Fullerton & 
 McGlauhlen's chain ferry boat. Then upon reaching the Parker 
 side of the river a steep bank had to be ascended before reaching 
 the yard. It cost something to get lumber from, that little crowd- 
 ed side track to the yard, the wages of two men and team and the 
 tremendous ferry toll of Fullerton & McGlauhlen on small loads. 
 And now I will give the other side for there were two sides to the 
 business: I bought a raft of 100,000 feet of boards from the 
 Weston mills, three miles above Olean, N. Y., on Monday morning, 
 paying $10 per thousand feet for it in the water. Saturday even- 
 ing it was all gone at $19 per thousand feet. This was without cost 
 to me. The oil operators would drive their teams into the water 
 beside the raft and load their wagons from the raft. I cleared 
 $900 on that raft in one week without touching a board. Another 
 $900 easy transaction took place a short time after the last 
 mentioned. A bridge was built across the river and the contractor 
 gave me the contract of furnishing the square hard maple timber 
 to put under the bottom of the stone piers. I gave the contract 
 to a Springcreek mill owner at his own price and cleared about $900 
 without touching a piece of this timber. This looks like making 
 money easily. But the old saying is: "Come easy, go easy." 
 As stated heretofore in these chapters there is no trouble about the 
 reader seeing where the "go easj" came in. All the old operators 
 will remember the method, if there was any method in it, of doing 
 business. It was up and down and up and down again and again 
 and all branches of business were in a state of chaos until the Stand- 
 ard Oil company, through marvelous management, gradually 
 brought things in the oil country into understandable shape. 
 
WARREN'S BIG MEN 129 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 WARREN'S BIG MEN. 
 
 At this time there comes to my mind many of the old business 
 men of Warren, Pa. There were among the members of the bar 
 Judge S. P. Johnson, Judge Rasselas Brown, Judge Glenni W. 
 Scofield, Thomas Struthers, Judge L. D. Wetmore, WilKam Parm- 
 lee, J. D. James, and Judge W. D. Brown. Of those named all are 
 dead but the last named, who has good health and the prospect of 
 enjoying the well earned fruits of his former efforts for many years 
 to come. Judge Johnson was noted for his stern visage and plain 
 talk. During his long and successful legal term he never spoke 
 but he said something in a manner to be plainly understood. Many 
 were offended at his plain speaking, but those who knew him best 
 knew well that underlying his stern outward appearance was a 
 warm and tender heart. The writer had business relations with 
 him and was never more kindly treated. The last interview was 
 just before the opening of the World's Fair at Chicago. I found 
 him in the consulting room of Thomas Struther's law office, writing 
 that philanthropist's last will and testament. It was a somewhat 
 sad sight to meet those two substantial old lawyers trembling on 
 the very edge of eternity, making a disposition of their very large 
 inheritance. The Judge dropped the will writing and accompa- 
 nied me to the court house. On the way he, the Judge, informed 
 me that he had been at Chicago to see the ''White City." He 
 said he was well paid for his trip. Said he: "I am 84 years of age 
 but I am in good health and active for a man of my years. I can 
 walk nearly as nimble as ever." He then proceeded to give me 
 an example of his nimbleness. "And," he said," I hope to live 
 long enough to make the second visit to the World's Fair, after 
 those buildings are filled with the best products of the world." 
 But, alas, for the uncertainty of all things mortal. The Judge 
 was seized with sickness and died before those buildings were filled. 
 These old lawyers were an honor to Warren. At the time of which 
 I write Warren and Erie counties were one congressional district. 
 Warren furnished the member of congress for both counties for 
 many years, Erie being left out of the race. The large county and 
 city of Erie seemed to be content to help elect Warren county men 
 to represent them on the floor of congress. G. W. Scofield was 
 elected and re-elected several terms. Then Colonel L. F. Watson 
 followed him a couple of terms, and when Erie did put forward a 
 
130 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 man and elected him, Mr. Scofield was chosen congressman-at-large. 
 The congressman elected in Erie was C. B. Curtis, a former lawyer 
 of Warren. Then came a genuine Erie county man, Mr. Brainard. 
 All those named above were Republicans, but then a Democrat — 
 Erie's pride— walked over the 4,000 Republican majority a couple 
 of times, and represented his, the ''wildcat district" — with much 
 credit to himself and to his constituents. Colonel Scott was as 
 smart as he was rich. He was an honor to the Democratic party, 
 but the old saying is "the good die young," and years ago Erie's 
 lamented citizen, W. L. Scott, passed away. 
 
 But let us return to Warren. All the old set of lawyers were full 
 of legal lore and an honor to the legal profession. One of the recent 
 deaths of the Warren judges was that of Hon. L. D. Wetmore, 
 His 10 years on the bench as president judge was a pleasant term 
 for both himself and the people. He did not seem to grow old 
 under the pressure of that responsible ofhce, but rather appeared 
 happy, but he, too, had to obey the call of the Great Judge of the 
 World. 
 
 Another of the president judges was "Charlie" Noyes, as he was 
 familiarly called by his innumerable friends. Although a Democrat, 
 in a strong Republican county, he was elected to the high office of 
 president judge by a good majority. Judge Noyes was a man of 
 many parts. He was connected with all good societies and every- 
 thing tending to make Warren one of the finest and best towns of 
 its size in the country. When he died the newspapers were filled 
 with eulogies. He was indeed missed. He was a young man at 
 the time of his death, but was old in the knowledge of the laws of 
 this country. 
 
 I will now make mention of the younger and at present active 
 lawyers at the Warren county bar: These are D. I. Ball, D. U. 
 Aired, Hon. O. C. Allen and his son, Samuel — Bordwell, W^. W. 
 Wilber, W. M. Lindsey, who has just completed a 10-year term as 
 president judge with honor to himself and to his constituents, and 
 Charles W. Stone and son, Ralph. C. W. Stone has filled about 
 all the offices worth having in the state of Pennsylvania. From 
 principal of the Warren schools he has passed through the state 
 assembly, state senate, lieutenant governorship and three or four 
 terms of congress, Mr. Stone stood second best of the hundreds 
 of congressmen at Washington. When "Tom" B. Reid, the then 
 speaker of the house, was absent for a week at a time he chose the 
 Hon. Charles W. Stone to take his place. 
 
 But let me now tell of the old, old lumbermen. There were 
 Orris Hall, "Joe" Hall, Chapin Hall, and Judge Hall, Boon-iMead, 
 
WARREN'S BIG MEN 131 
 
 Guv Irvine, A. H. Ludlow, S. H. and S. V. Davis, James Eddy, 
 "Zack" Eddy, Judge L. D. Wetmore, Hon. L. F-. Watson, Andrew 
 Hertzel and a host of others, who made fortunes m_ the lumber 
 business when nearly the whole county and the adjommg county 
 of Forest were literallv green with as fine pme trees as were ever 
 found anywhere. Many of the old settlers of Warren made their 
 fortunes by "bidding off" unseated wild land. I'H take Colonel 
 Watson as an example. He came to Warren from Titusvi le when 
 a mere boy, with 25 cents in his pocket, but full of energy, busmess 
 and integrity. He commenced work m a store on a very small 
 salary, but he, unlike many young men, saved his money. When 
 the day came for the selling of unseated lands— unseated land 
 means that many owners of wild land thought it not worth while 
 to pay their taxes in the wilderness of Forest and Warren counties, 
 and let the assessors place them on the unseated list— young 
 Watson was possessed of a keen vision and he could look into the 
 future and use good common sense. He expected and knew that 
 this country would grow and this isolated timber would come into 
 the market sometime in the future. Consequently he bought 
 large lots of this wild land. It cost but a few cents an acre and a 
 small amount of his savings would buy large tracts of land. 
 
 I'll give a conversation that I had with Mr. W atson a few years 
 ago in the directors' room of the Warren Savings bank. I was 
 seated in an easy chair when Mr. Watson entered the room. 
 After a cordial shake of my hand, and a warm hand was always 
 extended to his friends by that genial gentleman, he saia, I 
 have just got back from quite an extended trip over m Forest 
 county. Yesterday I saw for the first time a thousand acre lot 
 that I bought at a tax sale 50 years ago. I paid a few cents an 
 acre for it. It is completely covered with pme all over, except 
 about 20 acres in one corner, and that 20 acres is covered with the 
 best of hemlock timber. I had heard that it was a good pme lot 
 but there are about 8,000,000 feet more pine than I expected. 
 I made this remark: "The surplus, or the timber that vou did 
 not know that you owned, is worth more than your whole bank 
 here." He said "yes." 
 
 Since the interview above mentioned all timber has raised more 
 than one-half in price. Mr. Watson became several times a mil- 
 lionaire. This certain piece was one of many pieces of his early 
 purchases of wild lands at unseated sales on the court house steps. 
 Many other old settlers, the late Hon. L. D. Wetmore among the 
 number, became immensely wealthy by the same fair_ methods. 
 And no wonder that Warren is one of the wealthiest cities of its 
 
132 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 size to be found anywhere. 
 
 The late Hon. Henry Brace helped Mr. Watson with some of his 
 land sales and afterwards went to California and became wealthy 
 himself in timber and other transactions. He was buried in the 
 Odd Fellows cemetery at Youngsville only a short time ago. Mr. 
 Brace was at Mr. Watson's side when he (Watson) dropped dead 
 in Washington, D. C, and like a coincidence death came to Mr. 
 Brace at his California home instantaneously. All of the above 
 named old time lumbermen have sent their last rafts down the 
 Allegheny, except the last named, Andrew Hertzel, and it is to be 
 hoped that he will live to be 100 years old to superintend the 
 beautiful Odd Fellow's cemetery at Warren as he has managed it 
 for the last 40 years without one dollar of cost to the society. Can 
 Mr. Hertzel' s equal in this respect be found in this or any other 
 country? Nearly every day finds him driving "over the river" 
 to the beautiful city of the dead, where he keeps his eyes on all the 
 workmen and gives them friendly instructions. There is only one 
 Andrew Hertzel. Two other gentlemen, S. V. and S. H. Davis, 
 twin brothers, were helpers of Mr. Hertzel in his laudable work 
 while they were busy citizens of Warren. Their twinship has 
 ended here on this earth and has commenced again in the unknown 
 country beyond. A word about these two that were nearly always 
 seen together here while alive on this earth will not be amiss: 
 They were both Democrats living in a county with 1,500 Republi- 
 can majority. S. V. received the Democratic nomination for 
 sheriff of Warren county and was elected over his Republican 
 opponent by a majority of 85. When S. V.'s time expired his 
 twin brother, S. H. Davis, repeated the performance of his twin 
 brother, S. V. Davis, the only difference being that the former had 
 a trifle more of a majority than the latter named. Those three 
 workers for the cemetery were also three good workers in the I. 0. 
 O. F. lodge at Warren which controls the cemetery. The two last 
 named are missed in the councils of both the lodge and cemetery. 
 
 Away back, 60 years ago, Guy Irvine was the king lumberman 
 of the Allegheny river. He owned many sawmills, all propelled 
 by water, and it required many mills those days of single sash, up- 
 right saws, to manufacture his dozens of ''Allegheny fleets." On 
 the spring freshet Mr. Irvine would float to Pittsburg fleet after 
 fleet, and tie them up to both shores of the river for miles above 
 the city. He would pay off his army of ''hands," leaving one to 
 each raft to keep it afloat as the water would recede. After each 
 man bad received his nine to twelve dollars, about the amount 
 paid in those early days for a down the river trip, Mr. Irvine would 
 
WARREN'S BIG MEN 133 
 
 take them to the Red Lion hotel, on the Pittsburg side of the river, 
 or to Old Tom Gardner's hotel on the Allegheny side of the river, 
 and treat them to a ''cityfied meal." And let me say right here 
 that no landlord ever got rich from those men's meals. Alter a 
 week on the raft, subsisting on bread, meat and potatoes, prepared 
 by some man who was taking his first lessons m cooking, those 
 hungry up-the-river men got away with all the apple butter, apple 
 sauce, stewed peaches, stewed cherries, etc., that came before 
 them. No newfangled side dishes were used m those early day 
 taverns The victuals were heaped up on single plates, and each 
 fellow pitched in and helped himself. If the ''tavern keeper 
 got full pay for the raw material of one of those meals— the cooking 
 thrown in— he came off lucky. When those Pennsylyanians and 
 New York state Yankees had more than satisfied ''the inner man, 
 a large majority of them indulged in something stronger than river 
 water, and then would commence the footsore march toward their 
 homes up the Allegheny. . 
 
 Those raftsmen were a lively set, both floating southward on 
 an easy going raft or trudging northward over hard stony roads. 
 The denizens of the scattered farms along the way generally let 
 those raftsmen run things in their own way. And let it be said to 
 the credit of those pioneer raftsmen, whom I have accompanied 
 many times, that their wild deeds were few and far between 
 
 But let me return once again to Guy Irvine. He, with all his 
 riches had not the enjoyment of his northern home only a small 
 part of the summer months. He could not, as now, slip up home 
 in a day or in a night and visit his family and back again m the 
 same length of time, but he had to stay away a long time to sell and 
 deliver his vast amount of lumber. And when he did get away, 
 sometimes nearing the fall of the year, he would come home on 
 horseback, loaded down with money. And he was bold enough 
 to ride along through farms and woodland without a companion. 
 One of the great wonders is that no highwayman ever "inter- 
 viewed" him. . 
 
 A story was rife at one time that one robber stationed Jiimselt 
 in a dense piece of woods, with a gun, and awaited the passing of 
 Mr. Irvine. But in vain, a Mr. Irvine had happened to take 
 another route and thereby spoiled the robber's fun. _ 
 
 Let us look at the great strides in the manner of doing business 
 now, compared with 60 or 70 years ago. Instead of running the 
 risk of being robbed, if Mr. Irvine was selling lumber now at Pitts- 
 burg, he would only have to drop his pile of money into a Pittsburg 
 bank take a certificate of deposit and drop it into a Warren bank 
 
134 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 when he got hom(% ask for a blank check book, and draw his money 
 at his pleasure. And instead of that tiresome ride on horseback, 
 he could step into a Pullman car and sleep until he reached his 
 home. 
 
 I would like to speak of more of the old time business men of 
 tVarren, but to do the beautiful island town full justice I would 
 have to write a whole book. I can, with my mind's eye, look back 
 and see Judges Galbraith, Vincent, Johnson, Brown, Noyes, Lind- 
 sey and Wetmore. The reader, who was acquainted with those 
 legal lights, will see that five out of the seven have presided at their 
 last suit. Judge Vincent having only recently passed away 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 WEST VIRGINIA EXPERIENCES. 
 
 I think a few words about West Virginia will be interesting. The 
 writer of this spent the largest part of two years in the "Mountain 
 State," organizing insurance lodges. It was easy work to get a 
 list of names of men and women and organize' a lodge, but when it 
 came to paying dues and assessments, in some of the 20 towns 
 where I organized they were ''not in it." I organized five lodges 
 in Wheeling, the largest city in West Virginia. The menibers were 
 always on hand at the meetings of the order, but when it came to 
 paying their assessments and keeping their protection safe, they 
 were not as good as the Pennsylvania people. In the way of en- 
 tertainments they were the best in the world. I made an appoint- 
 ment with 10 lodges for a visit from the Supreme President of the or- 
 der.I notified each lodge of the time of his appearance. The meet- 
 ings were for all members of the order and non-members. Well, those 
 10 meetings were 10 big picnics. They had entertainments galore. 
 We had brass bands, mandolin clubs, quartets, duets, solos, reci- 
 tations, oratory and everything that would add to the entertain- 
 ment of a crowd. At Wheeling the entertainment was far in ad- 
 vance of anything ever witnessed before, or since, by such a "jiner" 
 as I, and I belong to nine different secret societies. _ I'll not try to 
 describe this entertainment, but I', 11 give a few pointers that will 
 give the readers a chance to guess at the magnificence of the per- 
 formance. The Grand opera house was the place ofthe meeting. 
 The orchestra belonging to the building made splendid music. The 
 
WEST VIRGINIA EXPERIENCES 135 
 
 best performers of the city gave their best efforts on all parts of the 
 varied program. The members of the order were all dressed up 
 to their special parts in the program at great cost to themselves. 
 In fact, this could hardly be called an amateur performance. The 
 performers — many of them —were professionals. This is one of 
 the "unguessable" things. To think of men and women attending 
 so faithfully to the frivolous parts at great cost and neglecting the 
 important parts at light cost. 
 
 Let me make a little correction. I said I had organized five 
 lodges at Wheeling. One was at Benwood and another at McMech- 
 en, but all were on the trolley lines. Of the 20 lodges organized in 
 West Virginia, they were nearly all in oil towns. Many, in fact 
 a majority of my members, were Pennsylvania oil men and women. 
 The inhabitants of West Virginia are largely made up of Pennsyl- 
 vania and Ohio people. The Pennsylvania people are a little more 
 appreciated than the Ohio people. Senator Stephen B. Elkins 
 informed me, in the town named after him, that the Pennsylvania 
 people took much more kindly to West Virginia than the Ohio 
 people. The former are accustomed to a mountainous country 
 and the latter to a level cduntry. The Senator says it makes more 
 difference than one would suppose at first thought. 
 
 There is but one difference between the two states of Pennsyl- 
 vania and West Virginia. The sidehills are very much more 
 precipitous in West Virginia than in Pennsylvania. When I first 
 saw Wheeling it was a black little village, not much thought of by 
 the raftsmen who rode lazily past it from the Pennsylvania and 
 York state lumber woods. Black coal smoke rose in several 
 places as a nest egg to Wheeling's future greatness in the iron 
 business of the country. Parkersburg was the next largest town 
 on the Virginia side of the Ohio river — it was old Virginia at that 
 time, as no division had been made. Parkersburg was a little 
 huddle of old fashioned houses. Just make the comparison now, 
 and then. Now it is a city of nearly 20,000 inhabitants. All the 
 recent buildings are up-to-date — built in the latest fashion. Oil 
 has been largely instrumental in making Parkersburg what it is 
 to-day. Many of the inhabitants of the city came there full-flegd- 
 ed oil operators, as they generally came from the Pennsylvania oil 
 fields up the river. I spent four months within the confines of the 
 old-time city and found a very social and intelligent lot of citizens. 
 I, for the first time since railroads were built, did not ride one rod 
 in a railroad coach in four months. I organized a lodge of over 
 200 members before I left the town, and, unlike Wheeling, all the 
 insured members paid their assessments promptly each month. 
 
136 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 It was the best lodge of the 475 that I have organized within the 
 last 32 years. 
 
 I stopped at the Palace hotel that winter, and one peculiarity 
 of the situation was that nearly all the young couples who came 
 across the river from the state of Ohio to be joined in wedlock put 
 up at the Palace hotel. The proprietor of this hotel had a preach- 
 er within easy call always when one of these matrimonially inclined 
 couples were ready to put on the yoke, and he had a standing wit- 
 ness in the person of your humble servant. I became regular in 
 my attendance at weddings. The name of that landlord and my 
 own decorated the marriage certificates of dozens of new beginners 
 as sailors on the matrimonial sea. 
 
 I found myself in a rather noted crowd at dinner one day. 
 There were seven Hatfields and one Brown at the table. The 
 McCoys stopped at another hotel. The relationship did not seem 
 exactly cordial between the two families, although they were both 
 making a visit to Parkersburg at the same time. A word of ex- 
 planation is due here. A great land suit was on in the United 
 States court, then being held at Parkersburg, and the Hatfields 
 and McCoys were there as witnesses. But they demonstrated 
 their good sense by not mixing up the names of the two families 
 on the same hotel register. Well, I had the honor of dining at a 
 table full of Hatfields, with ''Devil Anse" as one of the number. 
 As they had been stopping at the ''Palace" and boarding quietly 
 with people that were not murderers, for nearly a week, we all got 
 used to them and it was no great feat to be one of eight who was 
 not a Hatfield, at the same table at the same time. In fact, I 
 became somewhat intimate with the family. I was assured that 
 if I behaved myself I would be in no danger of bodily harm. I[ll 
 give a little conversation that one of the crowd and I indulged in 
 one evening while we sat quietly In the hotel office. I said, 
 "People up your way say that you fellows are not a very bad lot 
 in general." He replied, "Oh, we are not the worst men in the 
 world, but a little fiery." I told him that I "would write them 
 up" ;for the Parkersburg Journal and that I would hand him a 
 a copy of the paper." He said, "all right, I would like to have it." 
 The next day I went to the railroad depot and just as the train 
 moved off toward the mountain home of the Hatfields I handed 
 him a copy of the Journal. I will explain why I held the paper 
 until the departure of the train. I thought that if he should take 
 offense at any part of my remarks I would rather he would take 
 offense riding on a train speeding away from Parkesrburg than be- 
 fore he left the city. Now, to show plainly how we can be deceived 
 
WEST VIRGINIA EXPERIENCES 137 
 
 in appearances, one of those Hatfields had every appearance of 
 being a perfect gentleman, both in dress and actions. I said to 
 mvself there is no danger of that man ever murdering anyone. 
 But in less than two years from that time I read an account m the 
 papers of a man being murdered by this same quiet looking Hat- 
 field. But time mellows all things. I have since read of the two 
 noted families intermarrying and thereby modifying the feud be- 
 tween the world renowned Hatfields and McCoys. 
 
 I never in my 32 years of organizing lodges met but two editors 
 of newspapers who refused to publish the list of officers of my newly 
 organized lodges. The first was a Pennsylvania editor, a U._ P. 
 preacher by the way. Secret societies were not to his likmg. 
 The other was a McCoy, of West Virginia. He was a lawyer, 
 editor, owner of a big oil farm and a trustee of the Presbyterian 
 church It was not because of his religious scruples that he refused 
 the publication of the list of officers, but he felt that it was "paid 
 matter." He did not seem to know that editors m general are 
 very much pleased to have items of local news of that character. 
 Often the managers of daily papers in large cities have sent their 
 news gatherers to the ante room of the lodge rooms with orders to 
 stay until the list of officers could he obtained. _ I have had them 
 wait two hours before the installation was finished. 
 
 The first locomotive that I saw running along a track was m the 
 state of Ohio. I was on a lumber raft, lazily floating down the 
 Ohio river, when we met an engine, with no coaches attached, 
 coming up 'the river, on the Ohio side. It was a sight for our up- 
 the-Allegheny river eyes, and I also actually had my first ride on 
 steam propelled cars on the same side of that same river. After 
 landing our Ohio fleet at Cincinnati, and staying as watchman on 
 the raft until my employer, the late Eben G. Mead, than whom no 
 better man ran lumber to the lower markets, sold and delivered 
 his raft I got into a coach and took my first railroad ride to Cleve- 
 land, O., then on a lake boat to Dunkirk, N. Y., then ma stage 
 coach to Jamestown, N. Y., and "footed it" across the line into 
 the Keystone state, 18 miles, to my home in YoungsviUe, Pa. 
 Was not that going around the bush some, if not more? 
 
 I have mentioned the down-the-river people learning how to 
 land a raft with a long rope. Let me just mention the beauties of 
 this long rope business on the rafting trip just described. After 
 we landed this big Ohio raft, I took up my abode in the raft shanty 
 until the raft was sold. One nice warm day during the first half 
 of the month of May, I laid my sleepy head on the str^fw pillow 
 in the raft shanty and was soon in the land of dreams. The river 
 
138 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 was very high, over its banks in many places. My dreams came 
 to an end very suddenly when four Clarion timber rafts, owned 
 by Mr. Ford, of Ridgway, Pa., broke their cables and came down 
 against my raft with a crash that broke my cables and sent me 
 down towards Cincinnati. I was "monarch of all I surveyed," 
 sailing down into the heart of the city on a very large "Ohio fleet," 
 with no one to boss me and thousands of feet of square timber 
 floating after me. Now comes in this long rope business. When 
 the raft had made about two miles toward Porkopolis, I saw 
 two men jump into a skiff and row towards me. I first thought 
 that they intended to take me to shore. But I soon found that 
 they had a better object in view. They rowed vigorously until 
 they reached the side of my runaway raft. They then asked me 
 for the privilege of landing the raft. The reader may guess that 
 the privilege was instantly granted. They then, with nay 
 help, lifted a coil of rope, 900 feet long, one and one half inches in 
 diameter, and carried it onto the raft. Next one of the men took 
 hold of one end of the rope and got into the skiff and the other 
 rowed him to shore, and while the man with the rope took a half- 
 hitch around a big plum tree, the other man rowed back to the 
 raft and took a hitch on the raft snubbing post, and played out 
 the 900 feet of rope, bringing the big raft to shore, safe and sound. 
 I felt like the passengers who offered prayers and thanked Marconi 
 when the big vessel went down recently, when the wireless tele- 
 graphy saved 1,650 lives. These two men will always have my 
 best wishes. Their act, the next day, when Mr. Mead called to 
 pay them for the job, proved them to be fair minded indeed. Their 
 charge was only $10. Mr. Mead expected to pay about $100, as 
 their work saved him over $1,000. If not for getting that raft 
 landed above Cincinnati, where it was sold, it would have gone 
 below the city, and would have been sold for a much less price than 
 it was already sold for at Cincinnati. Mr. Ford's timber went on 
 below the city and he afterwards informed me that he lost $6,000 
 by the breaking of his ropes. His rafts were towed ashore by 
 tugboats after they had passed the city, where they were sold. 
 
 This rafting was a peculiar business. One instance is worth 
 mentioning on this trip. On the Ohio river we ran night and day. 
 Not so on the Allegheny river. There were too many islands and 
 bars and crooks. It required daylight to navigate it safely. Some- 
 times when the water was falling or when a pilot failed to make 
 a landing in a safe eddy he was obliged to run all night and it was 
 remarkable the small number of mishaps that did take place. 
 When we take into consideration the large number of rafts that 
 
WEST VIRGINIA EXPERIENCES 139 
 
 passed Oil City every rise of the water it fills one with ^^^er that 
 so few rafts were wrecked. Why, the old mhabitaiits of Oil City 
 can recollect the time that they could stand on the bank ot the 
 river all day and never be out of sight of rafts either opposite or up 
 or down the stream. ^., p.. 
 
 The description in the Derrick recently of the lights of Oil Uty 
 at night reminded me of the Pan-American show at Buffalo a few 
 years ago. And it also reminded me of Oil City many years ago. 
 Then instead of the glorious blaze of light _ of the present, 
 about all that could be seen in the way of illumination was a tm 
 lantern, with holes cut in the sides, and a "tallow dip standing 
 in the bottom. There was but little difference between those old 
 fashioned lanterns and a common sized lightning bug. Why 
 did you ever think that we are 2,000 years behmd the times? The 
 Bible tells us that in A. D. 70, Antioch had street lamps water 
 running in the streets and into the houses. Once or twice Oil bity 
 has had water running in the streets and into the houses, too, and 
 Antioch was not "in it" in regard to fire, but Oil City was m it 
 to a sorrowful degree. Many of the older _ citizens and some 
 younger ones will agree with me in this. It is to be hoped that 
 the fire fiend will never again make such disastrous visits as it has 
 done when that beautiful city was first springing into ;ts wonder- 
 
 ^"^The^Derrick recently spoke of John Haliday being a pioneer in 
 the ferry business in Oil City. My next door neighbor is John 
 Haliday's son, Thomas, and he is a "chip of the old block inter- 
 ested at present in the oil business between Oil City and Pleasant- 
 
 ""' Speaking of Pleasantville, reminds me of a little lumber trans- 
 saction when things were running wild. Very late m the fail ot 
 that exciting year, when Plummer was the terminus of the only 
 railroad in sight of Oil City, I landed a raft of hemlock derrick 
 lumber at Oleopolis, or at the mouth of Pithole creek. I sold the 
 raft to a New York City man who was operating quite extensively 
 in the rather prolific Plummer oil territory. This man gave me 
 $15 per thousand feet for this lumber. He drew a part oi it tor 
 his own use and sold part of it to other parties for $60 per thousand 
 feet, and nearly half of it floated off down the river m the great 
 flood of 1865. I was the only man who did not lose on that ratt. 
 and taking out the cost of one day's run, I made one-third on my 
 investment. I mention this to show the uncertainties ot the lum- 
 ber business, as well as the oil business. And while talking ot 
 lumber let me make the remark that something like dreariness 
 
140 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 comes over me when my mind wanders back to rafting times, 
 when water floated the lumber to market instead of steam pulling 
 it on wheels. The beautiful green pines have been cut down and 
 are gone, and nearly all the sturdy axe-men who cut the trees have 
 been overtaken by Old Time and cut down as ruthlessly as were 
 the thrifty green trees. The places that knew them both will 
 know them no more forever. But in time the places of trees will 
 be filled with a new growth of flourishing trees and the work of 
 these pioneers — good men and true — will live long after them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 RAMBLING RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LAST FIFTY YEARS 
 IN THE OIL AND LUMBER COUNTRY. 
 •Published in the Oil and Gas Man's Magazine in 1909. 
 
 I have been requested by my friend, C. R. Wattson, of Butler. 
 Pa., Secy.-Treas. of the Oil Men's Association of Western Pennsyl- 
 vaina, to write an article for this issue of the "Oil and Gas Man's 
 Magazine." I take up the task willingly but hardly know where 
 to begin. A flood of incidents lies calmly on the surface of the 
 sea of 50 years' memory. To cull the best out of the lot is some- 
 thing of a task — but I have no misgivings about the interest the 
 readers will take in it, if well culled. To show the extent of the 
 field of knowledge I will say: I saw the old Drake well, or first 
 well, putting out its second day's production. Strangers and 
 residents of the then little village of Titusville were standing around 
 so thick that to get near the great American wonder required both 
 strength and skill. 
 
 Every onlooker was surprised to see pure grease, covered with 
 white heavy froth, pouring so abundantly from sixty nine feet 
 below the surface of mother earth. People from all around the 
 country farms and towns were equally astonished at nature's 
 new departure. Visitors were present from all the great cities of 
 the nation. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia and Boston were 
 well represented. They all were of the same opinion relative as 
 to how so much oil was to be utilized. Up to that time the little 
 that had been gathered along Oil Creek by soaking it into blankets 
 had been sold in the crude state as a panacea for all the ills that 
 
RAMBLING RECOLLECTIONS 141 
 
 poor human nature is heir to. The query, therefore, with every- 
 body was, what will be done with this heavy production of oil. No 
 one thought of using it as an illuminant. The question was left 
 to be answered by John D. Rockefeller and his coterie of intelligent 
 and energetic helpers. Just stop and think a moment, dear read- 
 er. The man that was at the head of the greatest of the world's 
 discoveries, namely, petroleum and its by-products, is one of the 
 best abused men in this country. Little did Mr. Rockefeller think 
 when he was racking his young brain for the everlasting benefit 
 of the oil business that he was bringing down on his devoted head 
 more abuse than any other man ever carried in these United States. 
 I mean misplaced abuse. It was ever thus for greatness and suc- 
 sess to receive its reward by the historical pen of future writers 
 after the Tarbells and the like have passed into oblivion, and there 
 is no doubt Mr. Rockefeller will get justice in the pages of history 
 yet to be written. 
 
 But let me leave this Drake well in its present loneliness (it has 
 nothing to mark the spot at present, but thanks to the good and 
 enterprising ladies of the oil country, this will soon be remedied) 
 and take a look at the Williams well on the John Watson farm, 
 a mile north of the Drake well, — here was the pioneer spouter. 
 It was my good fortune to see this well two days after it was drilled 
 in. The oil went skyward to a great height and the first flowing 
 well was doing business with great energy. This well was planned 
 and put down by Mr. D. M. Williams, the then leading drygoods 
 merchant of Warren, Pa. 
 
 Although Mr. Williams was the moving spirit in putting down 
 the first flowing oil well of the thousands that followed, for some 
 reason he vanished from the oil business and died with "nary" a 
 well. This Williams well, although the wonder of the world, as 
 regards gas, did not cause the commotion that the Drake well 
 did — for the reason that the Drake well uncovered the fact that 
 large deposits of heretofore unthought-of wealth underlaid this 
 country. The Williams well only demonstrated the fact that said 
 wealth could be boosted out of mother earth by a hitherto unseen 
 power, called natural gas. By direction of Divine Providence, 
 Titusville had the first pumping oil well and also the first flowing 
 oil well. The inhabitants of the "Queen City" are justly proud 
 of this. ^ California, Illinois, Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, Mexico 
 and Indian Territory must take a back seat at the discovery 
 business, as many slow moving years passed after Titusville point- 
 ed the way before these now prolific states knew that they were 
 in it. 
 
142 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Shortly after the Williams well began to spout oil I did my 
 first and only work on an oil well. It was helping John Duncan, 
 of East Titusville, "kick" at a well on Pine creek. We used a 
 spring pole, and did not make a very long hole in a day's "kicking." 
 I left John at the end of six weeks, satisfied to abandon the drilling 
 business with a spring-pole. Medical authorities say the exercise 
 of the lower limbs is healthful, I did not quit because I disagreed 
 with said medical authorities, but I thought I would rather take 
 their word for it than to prove it by prolonging my "kicking" 
 job. Duncan filled my place with another "kicker" and soon 
 got a fair producer. But even then it would have been hard to 
 convince the average settler on Pine creek, at that time, that the 
 oil belt ran up the creek as far as Grand Valley and beyond. It 
 was left for the years to prove that Pine Creek was oil territory 
 from the Drake well to the Summit on the D. A. V. & P. railroad. 
 As a matter of fact, the drill is the only way to test the location of 
 petroleum. 
 
 Among the many old-time lumbermen of this county was 
 John McKinney, uncle to John L. and J. C. McKinney, two of 
 Titusville's wealthy and leading citizens. His father, also named 
 John, was one of the first settlers of the Brokenstraw valley. 
 John McKinney, Sr., had a family of seven sons and one daughter. 
 The old gentleman had a good farm for each, but his son John out- 
 did all his brothers in adding to his fortune He was a fixture each 
 early spring in the Pittsburg lumber market. Mills were strung 
 along the Brokenstraw creek, every place that high banks were 
 found, and many places where the banks were not high enough, 
 artificial banks were thrown up to make a head race and tail race, 
 as they were called. The mills beginning at the mouth of the creek 
 were owned by Dr. William A. Irvine, William Freese, Judge 
 William Siggins, John Mead, John Garner, James McKinney, 
 father of the Titusville men mentioned above, A. H. Ludlow & Co., 
 Eben Mead, Wm. White, John McKinney, (the first mentioned), 
 Robert Andrews, William Cotter, Daniel Horn, Dr. W. A. Irvine, 
 Daniel Donaldson, William Demming, E. Hyde, Ogden Demming, 
 John Walton, and here the creek crosses the state line and I don't 
 know the Yankees' names that owned the mills on the creek over 
 on the "York State" side. Those water mills would run nearly 
 the year around and in the early spring when the melted snow 
 raised the creek to a rafting stage, the Brokenstraw creek would 
 get a move on it. All day long the board rafts were pulling out 
 from the many mills and crowding each oher around the crooked 
 bends of the creek. Many times they would crush together and 
 
RAMBLING RECOLLECTIONS 143 
 
 pile up, completely blocking the navigation until the swift moving 
 water would force a passage through. The men that pulled the 
 oars and piloted the rafts were skilled in that work. A large ma- 
 jority of them were born and reared about those sawmills and were 
 real water ducks. They were right in their element, when manip- 
 ulating those raft oars. The writer prided himself on his skill as 
 a creek pilot and always got his raft through to the down river 
 markets without mishap. For years upon years, he enjoyed 
 himself hugely floating rafts out of Brokenstraw creek, and after 
 the creek pieces were coupled together into the Allegheny fleets 
 bossing the men at the oars from Irvineton to Cincinnati and still 
 further down the Ohio. This rafting business was only a part of 
 the floating done on the Allegheny river. The iron business came 
 in for a share of the trade of this county at that time. Iron furna- 
 oes were numerous and that man that was noti nterested in pig 
 iron in some manner was considered a back number. Making 
 pig iron along the Allegheny river and running it to Pittsburg in 
 flat boats was generally considered among the money making 
 pursuits of life. A man that had not a pig metal furnace of a few 
 tons capacity was looked upon as a man of not much consequence 
 from a business standpoint. Those old pioneers, while pecking 
 away at this laborious business, had never an idea that they were 
 working above a sea of oil that would lay in the shade their iron 
 ore, and not outstrip their business, but bury it in everlasting 
 forgetfulness. When a man gets after oil and gas it is good bye to 
 pig-iron. And let me here remark ''where in this world will be 
 found a more favored set of men than the Western Pennsylvania 
 farmers?" In some single counties is found iron, coal, oil, gas, 
 limestone, salt, rich soil, good timber, in fact nearly everything 
 that mankind needs in this vain world of ours. A farmer doesn't 
 need to go away from home to provide for his family, everything 
 is right on his farm. Where — oh, where can its equal be found? 
 — echo answers, where? No need of a young man taking Horace 
 Greeley's oft quoted advice "to go west and grow up with the 
 country." Many a young man has grown up with this oil country 
 since good old Mr. Greeley gave his advice and has nothing to 
 regret at staying at home, and the end is not yet. Human nature, 
 however, is never satisfied. Many young men have gone west 
 since the advent of the Drake well, and some of them have come 
 back to this country that flows with milk and honey and some 
 have grown up with the western country in poverty; of course, 
 some have struck it rich, as they would probably have done in 
 any other country. I said a farmer had everything on his farm. 
 
144 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 I'll take it back — I have not discovered or heard of gold, silver 
 or diamonds being found on western Pennsylvania farms, but 
 would not be surprised to see or hear of their discovery before I 
 die. Perhaps some, if not all, of these metals will, ere many years, 
 bob up in the face of these aforesaid farmers while peacefully 
 harvesting their buckwheat crops. The reader may think me 
 too optimistic, but listen, more strange things have happened to 
 the honest farmer in the striking of oil and gas than the discovery 
 of the last three wealth producers mentioned above. 
 
 As a stimulus to young men just starting out in life "on their 
 own hook" I wish to hold up an example in the person of Hon. 
 J. B. White, a former resident of Youngsville, but now of Kansas 
 City, Mo., and Bemus Point, N. Y., the latter being his summer 
 home, 
 
 Mr. White was born and reared in Watts Flats, Chautauqua 
 county, N. Y. When but eighteen years of age he came to Hulls 
 Hill, two miles from Youngsville and taught school in that district 
 one term. He then bought a pine timber farm and took up his 
 residence in Youngsville, which turned out in years afterward 
 to have been a good move for the town. He commenced lumber- 
 ing from his pine tract and the business had a peculiar charm for 
 him. After he had cut the timber from his Hull Hill farm he trans- 
 ferred his himber business to Tidioute. With the advent of Park- 
 ers Landing as the centre of oil operations, Mr. White began 
 business at that point. He prospered so well that the eagle eyes 
 of the millionaire Grandins alighted on him and prevailed upon him 
 to go to Missouri and buy yellow pine timber, by the tens of thous- 
 ands of acres. The Grandins and the late lamented Hunters, and 
 Capt. H. H. Cummings paid White a liberal salary and gave him 
 a sixth interest in the business for his services. White was as full 
 of energy as an egg is full of meat and he proved to be the very 
 man to carry the deal to a successful issue. After making piles 
 of money for the company and finding himself owner of fourteen 
 lumber yards in as many states and owner of vast amounts of 
 long leaf yellow pine in Louisiana and other southern states, and 
 a fine Chautauqua Lake property with unlimited means, Mr. 
 White did not lie down "on flowery beds of ease" while doing this 
 work, but while attending to the superabundance of work in build- 
 ing and putting in order a very large lumber town (Grandin, Mo.), 
 he traveled over all the southern states adding to the holdings 
 of the company in the way of the best long leaf yellow pine found 
 anywhere in the south. The lucky part of this whole business is 
 that this immensely valuable timber was bought before the won- 
 
RAMBLING RECOLLECTIONS 145 
 
 derful upward jump in the price of lumber. Another most favor- 
 able point is that at the rate the lumber of this country is being 
 cut there will be no decrease in price no matter what the tariff 
 tinkers do in the matter of rates. 
 
 The benefit resulting from the young school master from Hulls 
 Hill selecting Youngsville as his home at the close of the first school 
 will now appear. After Mr. White became a citizen of Kansas 
 city his oldest son, John Franklin White, M. D., received his 
 diploma and became a prominent physician. He accidentally 
 shot himself, dying within three weeks. Before his death his 
 father promised that he would build a memorial high school build- 
 ing to his memory in Youngsville. This promise was made good 
 last year, the school board receiving from Mr. White's hands a 
 $25,000 building. The building has all the latest conveniences 
 that go to make up a first class building of this character. It 
 stands between another memorial building, erected by the estate 
 of the late J. T. Currie, and the old four story high school building. 
 The Currie building is an industrial school. It is supplied with 
 all kinds of tools, suitable for learning the different trades to boys 
 and girls. . , „ 
 
 Mr. White is a strong believer in educating the fingers as well 
 as the mind, and years ago induced Mr. Currie to leave money at 
 his death to perpetuate his memory in this manner. Mr. White 
 is, therefore, credited with two of Youngsville' s fine educational 
 buildings. Mr. White says, "as I have a father, mother, two sons 
 and wife buried in the beautiful I. 0. O. F. cemetery in Youngs- 
 ville, it is only natural when I quit active business I will move to 
 Youngsville and spend my declining years_ there." _ Mr. White 
 has a warm side towards Warren county, as it sent him to Harris- 
 burg to help make the laws for the great state of Pennsylvania 
 when he was a mere boy. He is not the man to forget past favors 
 even if many years have intervened. 
 
 Our postmaster, Clyde Wright, says his father put down an 
 oil well at Tidioute 41 years ago that is at the present day produc- 
 ing a half barrel of oil a day. We have a well in Youngsville that 
 was drilled by A. McKinney and John Black 22 years ago and is 
 now flowi-ng a half barrel a day. So the operators of the present 
 time may not feel discouraged if they don't strike gushers every 
 time. Small wells will produce longer than larger ones. At the 
 rate some wells start off Lake Erie could not supply them forever 
 and forever. Besides a little slow well will run on for years and 
 years, until petroleum gets scarce and rises in price. My good 
 friends and operators, don't get in a hurry— take it cool. The 
 
146 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 oil business will not down. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 INTERESTING LETTERS TO THE AUTHOR. 
 
 When I wrote the preceding chapter of "Old Times in Oildom" 
 I thought I had finished. But since the publication of the first of 
 the articles in the "Derrick" I have received many letters from the 
 readers of that paper, a few of which I would like to have printed. 
 One is from a brother of the late Charles Dinsmoor, Esq , of Warren, 
 and who is now an expert botanist, of St. Marys, W. Va. The 
 letter explains itself. It does more than explain itself. It gives 
 a little insight into the size of my feet that might otherwise have 
 remained a secret, so far as those who never saw me are concerned: 
 
 St. Marys, W. Va., June 29, 1909. 
 Hon. G. W. Brown, Youngsville, Pa. 
 
 Dear Sir: — Your "Old Times in Oildom," now running in the 
 Oil City Semi- Weekly Derrick, is most intensely interesting to me. 
 It is barely possible that you can remember me. I was "head" 
 sawyer at Tiona and cut lots of tank plank for you along about 
 1871, '72 and '73, and remember you quite distinctly. You fre- 
 quently gave me directions of the kind you wanted. You were 
 then quite grey, somewhat stooping and had feet nearly as large 
 or larger than President Lincoln's. One instance I can recall. 
 You were standing near the "edger" in a slightly dangerous place. 
 I motioned to a young fellow of Irish extraction, directing him to 
 have you stand in another place, as you might get injured. He 
 replied, "Be jabbers, he is long enough for this world," _ meaning 
 that you were very "tall timber," as we denominated six-footers. 
 I regret not having had the pleasure of "hoeing it down" after 
 your "scraping" the "fiddle" and keeping time with your No. 10s. 
 
 Many pleasures have come my way in the last half hundred 
 years; none that surpassed the old-time dances of the mill and 
 woods men and women of "Old Lang Syne." As }'0u recalled the 
 names of leading lumbermen of Warren county, a sweet, sad re- 
 membrance stole over me that I can scarcely shake off yet. I 
 was personally acquainted with nearly every one of them. Guess 
 
LETTERS TO THE AUTHOR 147^ 
 
 I did my share in tearing up the noble wilderness that once covered 
 so much of Warren county; perhaps sawed as many logs as any 
 young man of that period; every piece that went into Pleasant 
 bridge at Warren in '72; also the timber in Dunkirk, Warren & 
 Pittsburg railroad; hundreds of walking beams; also stuff that 
 went as far as Boston. Came near being a resident of Youngs- 
 ville, with L, B. Wood, but commenced to roam; have since spent 
 20 years in the west; have taken the Derrick for 25 years at least; 
 have had, and still have splendid health; am on "Easy street;" 
 have fine children. Was born on the very summit of Quaker hill, 
 1,900 feet above the Allegheny river; was the youngest of 15 
 children — one only settled in Warren, Charles Dinsmoor, all having 
 crossed over except three. Am now living one and a quarter 
 miles from the Ohio river, 550 feet above the same. On my next 
 visit to Warren county will make it a point to see Youngsville 
 and the "15 miles of sidewalk." Should you come down the Ohio 
 be sure to stop at St. Marys. You will have no trouble in finding 
 Dinsmoors in plenty. 
 
 Sincerely yours 
 
 0. W. Dinsmoor. 
 
 Another letter from the secretary and treasurer of the Oil Men's 
 Association of Western Pennsylvania is as follows: 
 
 Butler, Pa., April 16, 1909 
 Mr. G. W. Brown, 
 
 Youngsville, Pa. 
 
 , Dear Sir: — I have been reading your reminiscences in the 
 "Derrick" with interest. These old stories bring up memories of 
 the past and are worthy of being preserved. 
 
 The Oil Men's Association meets this year at Conneaut Lake, 
 August 5th, and would be glad to entertain you there for a couple 
 of days. 
 
 I don't know whether you recall me or not, but I remember 
 meeting you here several years ago, and like yourself, I have been 
 on the Derrick staff for a decade or more. 
 
 I remain, with best wishes, 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 G. R. Wattson. 
 The Oil Men's Association of Western Pennsylvania. 
 
148 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM. 
 
 Another letter is as follows: 
 
 Butler, Pa., May 8, 1909. 
 Hon. G. W. Brown, 
 
 Youngsville, Pa. 
 
 Dear Sir:— It is these reminiscences that the oil people like to 
 go over again. 
 
 Will you kindly send me a photo of yourself? Thanking you 
 for your kindness in this matter and with best wishes, I am, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 C. R. Wattson, 
 National Transit Company, United Pipe Lines Division. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 149 
 
 'GEN. CHARLES MILLER. 
 
 The portrait below represents a gentleman from Franklin, Pa., 
 who is a power unto himself and all that he comes in contact with, 
 It is beyond the power of my pen to describe him — a book the size 
 of this would not be large enough to do him justice. There is but 
 one Gen. Charles Miller. He is a gentleman of so many parts that 
 it is impossible to describe all, and it seems unfair to leave off any, 
 when all are equally inteiesting. It is a real puzzle to the writer 
 
 
 and everybody else^how any man can handle the vast amount of 
 financial business, social matters, church matters, military matters 
 and other matters relating to a busy life, and act in each capacity 
 as if he has nothing else on his mind. For instance, how does the 
 General find time with his multiplicity of business of many kinds 
 on hand, to commit to memory eyery hymn in his Sunday school 
 singing book? The writer of this has had the extreme pleasure of 
 
150 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 attending his unequalled Sunday School many times, and never 
 saw him look at his book while leading his thousand singers. If 
 a stranger attends Sunday School at the First Baptist church, 
 Franklin, Pa., at 3:00 p. m., any Sunday, when the General is not 
 out of town (and the strangers names are legion that embrace the 
 opportunity of seeing and hearing the General in hi^ role of Sunday 
 School Superintendent) he would be led to think that the General 
 had been occupied all the past week in preparing the program and 
 had no business matters on his mind. His immense oil business, 
 railroad business, manufacturing establish 'nents and military 
 business must be merely playthings to him, as it seems to be enough 
 to fill any man's head to do the church work that Mr. Miller does 
 with the expenditure of about $600,000 on one church in the 
 beautiful little city of Franklin, Pa., alone, not to mention his open 
 hand to all calls from numerous other churches. When General 
 Miller presents himself for admission at St. Peter's gate, the keeper 
 of the gate will not be obliged to count pennies to ascertain 
 whether he has won a seat in Heavenly mansions by a close finan- 
 cial shave. ''God loves a cheerful giver," and if any man or 
 woman can take comfort in this Bible promise iri this part of God's 
 universe, it is General Charles Miller of Franklin. Pa. 
 
 GLENNI W. SCOFIELD. 
 
 The following portrait represents one of the best lawyers and 
 statesmen that ever graced the nice little city of Warren. His poli- 
 tical career commenced many years ago, when the voters sent him 
 to represent them in the state councils at Harrisburg. He made 
 himself felt in the legislative halls to such an extent that when he 
 spoke all listened. He was a man of fine physique and had 
 wonderful oratorical powers. He laid the foundation at Harris- 
 burg for a successful political life. His great talents were ever 
 after given to the people of the United States, his unequalled ser- 
 vice to the great state of Wm. Penn only paved the way to more 
 extended service of his beloved country. Term after term in con- 
 gress was given to him by his admiring constituents until he was 
 appointed one of the United States Judges, which position he 
 adorned up to the time of his death. Mr. Scofield was not one 
 of the tricky kind of politicians. No spot or blemish ever appeared 
 either in his private or public life. His contsituents will endorse 
 this statement. This is not written in the stereotyped phrase 
 
BTOGRAPHTCAL SKETCHES 151 
 
 of laudation generally used in the praise of public servants, but it 
 is solid fact. Judge Scofield has left behind him an unsullied 
 record, that future generations will not be ashamed of. _ His wife 
 was the daughter of Mr. Archibald Tanner, one of the pioneers of 
 
 Warren. Hiw old stone homestead stands in the very heart of 
 Warren, surrounded by tall native pines, which will not very likely 
 fall victims to the woodman's ax, while his son, Archie, and daugh- 
 ter inhabit this earth. It is but a few weeks since the Judges' 
 life partner, his wife, was laid to rest by his side, in beautiful Oak- 
 'iand cemetery. 
 
 HON. O. C. ALLEN. 
 
 The following portrait shows the face of one of the leading lights 
 in the legal line in W^arren county. 
 
 Mr. Allen was born on a backwoods farm in, Pinegroye towAS,hi^ 
 
152 
 
 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 Warren county, Pa. He was a good farmer boy, but early imbibed 
 a desire for a knowledge of the law. He belonged to a law loving 
 family, Samuel, Harrison, George, brothers, all were admitted to 
 the Warren bar (the first two named have long since passed over 
 the divide where God's law is supreme, and where no legal discus- 
 sions arise). George wenl toward the setting sun many years ago, 
 and has honored the judicial bench of some western town, by his 
 being chosen to decide questions of law for his newly made neigh- 
 bors. Of the quartette of Allen lawyers, only ex-state senator 
 
 Hon. O. C. Allen, pleads at the Warren county bar, and let me say 
 right here that his natural eloquence is not excelled in this "neck- 
 o-woods." Senator Allen has a large clientage and a growing 
 one, and as Warren does not lack for ''limbs of the law" the senator 
 does well to stay at the head of the flock. As I have said before 
 in this book, Warren has furnished more good judicial timber than 
 any town pf its size iji western Pennsylvania, and has held its own 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 153 
 
 up to the present time. Senator Allen has held many important 
 offices, borough and county, and state, and one of the most im- 
 portant which he has held for many years is a trustee of the North 
 Warren Insane Asylum., where his good judgment has been 
 to the management and inmates. 
 
 boon 
 
 JOHN L. McKINNEY. 
 
 The cut above is the shadow of one of the best business managers 
 in the oil country, beginning to-operate in pil in the earliest stages, 
 when the spring pole done duty in the drilling line. He was one 
 
154 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 of the "A B C " scholars. He commenced by putting a few hun- 
 dred dollars in a well and following said few hundred dollars with 
 faithful and muscular "kicking" — kicking at a spring pole was the 
 only power used in reaching the greasy fluid when John, in his 
 teens, commenced the oil business, and being a boy "man grown " 
 both his muscle and disposition went in harmony towards a good 
 solid day's work. He met with losses at first that would discour- 
 age any but the earnest, in an unknown business. When he com- 
 mencedto lay the foundation of his fabulous fortune, he met with 
 many discouraging cicumstances. The fortune did not push itself 
 upon him, it required an indomitable will on his part to climb to 
 the financial heights to which he has attained. He comes from 
 solid stock. In 1792 John McKinney, (John L's. grandfather) 
 came from the north of Ireland and settled at Philadelphia, Pa., 
 then came to Irvineton with a party of surveyors, preempted the 
 broad, wild river flats there. Then learned that Gen. John W. 
 Irvine held a claim ahead of him. He then relinquished his 
 claim on the banks of the Alegheny river, and came to Youngs- 
 ville and got a claim on nearly all the land in sight. Mr, McKinney 
 then returned to Reading, Pa., and married Miss Rebecka Arthur, 
 and brought her into the wilds of western Pennsylvania to help 
 him hew out a home in the wilderness. Shortly after the couple 
 were settled in their log cabin, a Scotchman came and boarded 
 with them, named Matthew Young. He soon made himself so 
 useful in the embryo town, that Mr. McKinney consented to the 
 town being named Youngsville instead of Mc Kinney ville. Eight 
 sons and one daughter was born to Mr. McKinney and his wife. 
 The eight sons and one daughter are all dead. Two of the sons 
 never married. Four sons and the daughter have each but one living 
 representative, at present. Two sons Arthur and James, have 
 fair sized families (the latter named, James, being the father of 
 the well known oil men, John L. and J. C. McKinney, of Titusville) 
 The two named in brackets, have very recently (a couple of months 
 ago) placed an eight ton monument on the cemetery lot con- 
 taining the remains of their grandparents, named above, in Odd 
 Fellows' cemetery, Youngsville. The monument is of Barre Gran- 
 ite and of beautiful design. The goodman, Mr. McKinney, sent mon- 
 ey to Ireland and brought his two brothers to this country and pre- 
 sented each one with a farm and sawmill He also presented a 
 farm to each of his eight sons, and to his only daughter. The reader 
 of this can see from this statement that the McKinneys have done 
 their share of business in the commercial world and made a wilder- 
 ness "blossom as the rose." 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 HON. CHARLES W. STONE. 
 
 155 
 
 Hon. Charles W. Stone, M. C. four terms, was in reality the 
 second best member of the United States congress. When 'Tom" 
 Reid was speaker of the House and was obliged to vacate the chair, 
 Mr. Stone was his choice as his substitute, and had the high honor 
 of filling Mr. Reid's place a week at a time. This is something for 
 
 the wildcat district to be proud of. Mr. Stone has the qualfica- 
 tions of a first class business man, in addition to his high statesman- 
 ship. During the last six months he has made two trips to Mexico, 
 and has purchased immense tracts of timber lands which is an 
 investment not loaded down with uncertainties. 
 
156 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 Lawyer, ex-congressman; born in 1843; among his ancestors 
 there were Revolutionary bUie-coats, intermarried with the fam- 
 ilies of Prescott and Greene. He was educated at Lawrence 
 Academy and Williams College, earning his way by teaching and 
 other work, graduating with honor. He accepted a position as 
 principal of the Union School at Warren, was elected County 
 Superintendent of Schools in 1865, and later in the same year was 
 chosen principal of the Academy at Erie. He took up the study 
 of law, was admitted to practice in the courts of Warren county 
 in 1866, and entered into partnership with Judge Rasselas Brown; 
 served three years in the borough council, nine years on the boarcl 
 of school directors, and the last three years as its president. In 
 1869 he was elected to the legislature from the counties of Warren 
 and Venango, and was re-elected without opposition. In 1876 he 
 was state senator, and served as chairman of the General Judiciary 
 Committee, and in 1878 he was elected lieutenant-governor. 
 Mr. Stone was one of the three commissioners in 1883 who located 
 the United States public building at Erie, and later was a repre- 
 sentative of Pennsylvania at the Inter-state Extradition Confer- 
 ence, called by the governors of the several states; subsequently he 
 was a delegate from Pennsylvania to the Prison Congress, over 
 which ex-president Hayes presided. In 1877 he w^as appointed 
 by Governor Beaver to be Secretary of the Commonwealth, and 
 served until his election to Congress from the twenty-seventh 
 district in 1890; and he has been four times re-elected by large 
 majorities. During two of the terms of his service in Congress 
 he was the efficient chairman of the Committee on Coinage, 
 Weights and Measures. In 1898 he was a candidate before the 
 Republican convention for the nomination for governor and re- 
 ceived one hundred and sixty-five votes, one hundred and eighty- 
 three being necessary to. nominate. Address: Warren, Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 HON. W. M. LINDSEY. 
 
 This photo shows the face of another of the self-made men of 
 Warren county. He was born and raised on a farm, like the 
 majority of the legal lights of Warren, but left agricultural pur- 
 suits and studied law and joined issue with that strong minded 
 lawyer, Hon. S. P. Johnson, and for many years worked in harness 
 with Mr. Johnson and when the latter named died, was chosen to 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 157 
 
 fill the chair recently vacated after a ten years service by his long- 
 time partner, The Hon. W. M. Lindsey, has just finished his ten 
 year service as President Judge of this district and leaves without 
 a blemish on the judicial ermine. Although entirely competent 
 to fill any office in the gift of the pvople, Mr. Lindsey has refused 
 
 to mix in politics very deep, preferring to give his rich talents un- 
 dividedly to the laws of his country. The ex-judge is compara- 
 tively a young man yet, and no doubt he will be one of our law- 
 makers before he quits this mundane sphere. He is fitted for a 
 politician in many respects, the one best respect is geniality. It is 
 his nature to be social, the best hold of a politician. 
 
15,??. 
 
 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 C. N. PAYNE. 
 
 The man whose photograph is seen below is one of the many 
 self-made men of the oil region. He pitched into the oil business 
 when a boy and took hold of it just as though he had served an 
 apprenticeship at the lousiness. At the time of his leaving his 
 fathers farm, the oil business was an untried proposition. There 
 were no precedents to follow and nobody had learned the 
 business for the rcascni that it had never been a business. It had 
 
 to be worked up to a point where it could be called a business. 
 Nobody could impart knowledge to anybody else. All men stood 
 on an equalit}^, each could guess as close as the other, but all were 
 not good guessers. C. N. Payne was one of the "cut and try" 
 good guessers, he had a way of his own and his way was crowned 
 with success from the beginning. Much pluck, good sense and 
 good management put him to the front and he is now one of the 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 159 
 
 valuable advisors of the greatest business aggregation in the world 
 to-day. Mr. Payne owns three automobiles and his son-in-law 
 owns one, four housed in the same garage. His dwelling house in 
 Titusville shows signs of opulence on the part of its owner that 
 are unmistakable. His high standing in the oleaginous world 
 has not unhinged "Cal's" mind in the direction of geniality. He 
 don't let his immense business spoil him socially. He can make 
 an old acquaintance feel as much at home in conversation as be- 
 fore he climbed the oilly ladder. 
 
 HON. F. M. KNAPP. 
 
 Frank M. Knapp, of Warren, Pa., was born in the township of 
 Farmington, Warren county, Pa., June 29, 1851. His early life 
 was spent on his father's farm, where during the summer,^ he did 
 
160 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 such work as is required of those engaged in this occupation, and 
 during the winter months he attended the District school. At 
 the age of 18 and for several years thereafter he followed the occu- 
 pation of a ''school teacher" during the winter and attended the 
 Jamestown Collegiate Institute and the Edinboro State Normal 
 during the fall months. In 1873 he entered the law office of 
 Johnson & Lindsey as a student and in 1875 was admitted to the 
 Warren County Bar. He followed the law profession until 1880, 
 when his Republican friends elected him county treasurer. At 
 the expiration of his term in 1883 he entered actively general 
 manufacturing, production of oil and gas and general business. 
 From 1898 to' 1904 he held the office of Prothonotary and Clerk 
 of Courts of Warren county. He was twice elected chairman of 
 the Republican party of his county. 
 
 At the present time Mr. Knapp is the president of the Jacobson 
 Machine Manufacturing Co., the Treasurer an Vice-President of 
 the Warren Table Works, the secretary of the Allegheny Foundry 
 Co., and secretary and treasurer of several large Carbon Companies 
 operating in A^'est Virginia. 
 
 He is a member of the First M. E. church, of WaiTen, Pa. 
 
 In politics he has always been a true and loyal supporter of 
 the principles of the Republican party. His first presidential 
 vote was cast for General Grant and his last for Wm. H. Taft. 
 
 Mr. Knapp in addition to his law business takes a hand in the 
 business of bviilding up the city of Warren. He is president of 
 the Glade Oil Refinery, Treasurer of the Jacobson manufactory, 
 half owner of the latest big brick block built in Warren, on a corner 
 near the New Struthers hotel, and lives in and owns a dwelling 
 house that shows opulence on the part of the owner. Taken all in 
 all he is a good man for the up-building of his home town. 
 
 GEO. E. LANG DON. 
 
 Geo. E. Langdon, editor and proprietor of the Youngsville 
 Enterprise, one of the representative young men of this section, 
 never did anything of much account to the great oil business, but 
 was born in Duke Centre, McKean county. Pa., March 26, 1881,when 
 the oil excitement was at its height. He can remember ''Duke" 
 in its palmy days when it was served by two railroads (but now it 
 has none) and had a very large population, living in houses built 
 upon blocks as was typical of oil country mushroom towns. He 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 161 
 
 says that the "wheeze" of the old Duke Centre pump station that 
 run night and day for 3'ears still lingers in his ears. 
 
 He is the son of Rev. and Mrs. C. G. Langdon, now of Warren, 
 Pa. His father was a rig builder and pipe line man. When 
 George was but a small boy his father caught a hand between a 
 walking beam and sariq^son ]-)ost, and smashed that member, losing 
 
 two_ fingers. He never took up oil work again, but entered the 
 ministry, 
 
 _ Geo. E. Langdon entered the newspaper business at the age of 
 nineteen years, when, in partnership with his father and a brother, 
 J. P., now of Warren, they started the Warren County 'Record, 
 at Sugar Grove, Pa. Afterward he and his brother were left to 
 
162 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 carry on the newspaper and printing business. In the spring of 
 1907, they moved their plant to Youngsville and founded the 
 Youngsville Enterprise. In January, 1909, J. P. took up other 
 work and left Geo. E. proprietor and editor of the Enterprise. 
 
 The Enterprise is the pride of Youngsville and one of the best 
 papers in this section and is loyally supported by the people of 
 the town and vicinity. Its mechanical equipment is probably 
 one of the very best to be found in any country office, and in- 
 cludes one of the most complicated and remarkable machines now 
 manufactured — a Lanston Monotype. 
 
 Mr. Langdon has a long life before him, and if nothing happens 
 will make himself an influential citizen in the near future, and 
 build up a lucrative business and an enviable reputation. 
 
 JAMES ROY. 
 
 The following Obituary of James Roy is reprinted from a War- 
 ren paper publisbed at the time of his death. It is very appro- 
 priate. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Since our last issue Warren county has suffered a very heavy 
 loss in the death of Mr. James Roy, of Glade township. He was 
 born in Phelpstown, Ontario Co., N. Y., on the 14th of September, 
 1822. He came to this state in 1836, locating in Elk township. 
 For many years he was one or the most prominent lumbermen in 
 this section of the state. 
 
 In the various business enterprises which engaged his attention, 
 farming, stock raising, oil producing or lumbering, he was ever 
 known for unwavering honesty and integrity. He was not a 
 member of a church but his life would put to shame that of many 
 who are, judged by the test of the Apostle James: 
 
 "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this: 
 To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction and to keep 
 himself unspotted from the world." 
 
 What he knew to be right he did, and had no use for questionable 
 rnethods of acquiring wealth by taking advantage of the neces- 
 sities of others. 
 
 His generosity was unbounded and his srupreme happiness was 
 in doing good. 
 
 He died on Friday afternoon surrounded by his two sons and 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 163 
 
 five daughters. The survivors have the deepest sympathy of the 
 community in their irreparable loss. 
 
 The following beautiful lines which appeared in print several 
 years ago, are, we think, very appropriate to our late esteemed and 
 benevolent fellow citizen, Mr. James Roy. 
 
 WHAT WAS HIS CREED. 
 
 He left a load of anthracite 
 
 In front of a poor widow's door, 
 When the deep snow, frozen and white, 
 
 Wrap'd street and square, mountain and moor. 
 That was his deed; 
 
 He did it well; 
 "What was his creed f- 
 I cannot tell. 
 
164 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 Blest "in his basket and his store," 
 
 In sitting down and rising up; 
 AVhen more he got, he gave the more, 
 Withholding not the crust and cup. 
 He took the lead 
 
 In each good task; 
 "What was his creed?" 
 I did not ask. 
 
 His charity was like the snow, 
 
 Soft, white and silken in its fall; 
 Not like the noisy winds that blow 
 From shivering trees and leaves; a pall 
 For flower and weed. 
 
 Dropping below. 
 "What was his creed?" 
 The poor may know. 
 
 He had great faith in loaves of bread 
 For hungry people, young and old; 
 And "hope inspired kind words" he said, 
 To him he sheltered from the cold. 
 ,For he must feed 
 
 As well as pray. 
 "What was his creed?" 
 I cannot say. 
 
 In words he did not put his trust. 
 In faith his words he never writ; 
 He loved to share his cup and crust 
 With all mankind who needed it. 
 In time of need 
 
 A friend was he. 
 "What was his creed?" 
 He told not me. 
 
 He put his trust in Heaven, and 
 
 Worked ever on with hand and head; 
 And what he gave in charity 
 
 Sweetened his sleep and daily bread. 
 Let us take heed, 
 For life is brief! 
 "What was his creed?" 
 "What his belief?" 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 165 
 
 CAPT. H. H. CUMMINGS. 
 
 Captain H. H. Cummings was bom in Monmouth, Illinois, but 
 spent his youth and early manhood in Madison, Ohio. He gradu- 
 ated in 1862 from Oberlin college and immediately entered the 
 Union army — served until the end of the war — was captair)L^.pf 
 the 105th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. In September 1865 he came 
 to the Pennsylvania oil regions, and was located in June 1866 at 
 Tidioute, Pa., engaged in buying and shipping crude oil and operat- 
 ing an oil refinery, as a member of Day & Co. Late in the year 
 
 1873 he formed a partnership with Jahu Hunter, of Tidioute, in 
 operating for oil on the fourth sand or "cross belt" in;*Butler and 
 Armstrong counties, Pennsylvania, successfully for many years, 
 and is still owning oil wells in these counties, also in the Bradford 
 district and recently in Oklahoma, since 1880 to the present time. 
 He is considerably interested in lumbering in Missouri and for the 
 
166 
 
 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 past few years in Louisiana. At one time he was interested in 
 lands in the Red River Valley in North Dakota. The cap- 
 tain represented the Warren and Venango districts in the 
 senate of Pennsylvania for eight years, 1899 to 1906. 
 
 Such men as Captain Cummings are an honor to Warren county 
 and the state of Pennsylvania, as a helper in making laws for the 
 Keystone state he has no superiors and but few equals. Oh, for 
 more Cummings as law makers for the great state of Pennsyl- 
 vania and the nation. 
 
 liiiilli 
 
 mmmmmmrnm 
 
 
 HON. J. C. McKINNEY. 
 
 The above portrait is a good reminder of a former mayor of 
 TitusviUe, and one of the upbuilders of the Queen City. He 
 was born near Youngsville, before oil was discovered in this coun- 
 try. He was a faithful helper of his father, James McKinney, who 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 167 
 
 owned and run a sawmill a couple of miles up the Brokenstraw 
 creek, above the town of Youngsville. The rich soil of the Brok- 
 enstraw valley was drawn upon in the summer time to bolster up 
 the lumber business in the winter time. The mill was always run 
 when the water was at a good stage, or not frozen to thick ice 
 
 The ancestral history of Hon. J. C. McKinney, will be found in 
 the souvenir number of the evening Titusville Courier, for 1906, 
 and also in the biography of an older brother, Hon. John L. McKin- 
 ney, in the "History of Petroleum," written bv J. T. Henry, in 
 1873. 
 
 Hon. J. C. McKinney, like his brother, John L., pitched into the 
 oil business on his own account when but a boy, and prosecuted 
 the work with wisdom and vigor for five years, being unusually 
 successful in several fields. He then went into partnership with 
 his brother, John L., and has remained a partner up to the present, 
 about 39 years. It is doubtful if a like history can be found in the 
 archives of oil country history. 
 
 HON. R. E. DICKINSON. 
 
 He whose picture adorns the next page of ''Old Times in Oildom" 
 is the present mayor of Titusville, the city and birthplace of 
 Seneca oil. He also enjoys the distinction of acting as confiden- 
 tial secretary to the millionaire, Hon. John L. McKinney, for the 
 last 15 years. As a sign of good standing in his adopted home he 
 was elected as a Democrat mayor in a city which is largely Repub- 
 lican. The Hon. Mr. Dickinson is the youngest mayor that ever 
 occupied the executive chair in Titusville. He was elected 
 in February 1908. He is qualified for any position that the far 
 famed city of Titusville may put upon him. He is the son of 
 Augustus Warren and Clara Olney Dickinson. Born in Butler 
 county. Pa., July 30th, 1877. Was graduated from Titusville 
 high school in 1895, and then secured a position with the South 
 Penn Oil company and has been associated with Hon. John L. 
 McKinney and Hon. J. C. McKinney, vice president and general 
 manager respectively of said company, ever since. 
 
 Mr. Dickinson was married April 17, 1901, to Miss Mary Theobold, 
 daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Peter Theobold, who was a pioneer in the 
 oil refining business, being president of the Independent Refining 
 Company of Oil City, Pa. Hon. R. E. Dickinson is in the prime of 
 
168 
 
 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 life and no doubt but his past success will cling to him for many, 
 many years to come. His host of friends all hope so and he will 
 not be likely to disappoint them. 
 
 A. J. HAZELTINE. 
 
 This portrait represents one, of the best bankers in the state of 
 Pennsylvania. Below will be found a brief history of his rise to a 
 self-made man. 
 
 Born on Hazeltine homestead in Chautauqua county, New York, 
 in 1847. Educated in the common schools. Began business life 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 169 
 
 in a country store and was partner in business at the age of 18. 
 Was Deputy Clerk .of the Board of Supervisors of Chautauqua 
 county in 1869, but came to Warren, Nov. 10, 1869, as bookkeeper 
 for the Piso Co. Was chosen bookkeeper of the First National 
 Bank in March, 1870, and teller of the same bank in September, 
 1870. He was elected cashier of the Warren Savings bank Feb.l, 
 1872, president of the same on the death of the former president, 
 
 Col. Watson, in November, 1889. Is still president of the bank. 
 Has been on the U. S. Assay commission, treasurer of Pennsylvania 
 Bankers Association and on legislative committee of the Association 
 which drafts the new law as to reserve of state banks. 
 
 His son, Dr. Harold Dexter Hazeltine, is now professor in Eng- 
 lish l^^w at Cambridge University, England, 
 
170 
 
 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 J. B. WHITE. 
 
 This portrait shows the face and features of a self-made man 
 But few equals can be found in this country of ours. Further 
 remarks on the career of the Hon. J. B. White will be found on 
 pages 20, 144 and 145 of this book. 
 
OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 171 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Hauling Oil on Sleds 5 
 
 Staging Before Railroads Were a Blessing to Oil City 7 
 
 Oil Creek Pond "Fresh" , . . 9 
 
 Pithole Hotel and Livery Charges 11 
 
 General Burnside's Railroad 13 
 
 James S. McCray 16 
 
 The Grandins and J. B. White 20 
 
 Narrow Escape From Being a Bloated Bondholder 23 
 
 The Lumber Business in Parker City 25 
 
 John Galey and the Robinsons 28 
 
 Parker City 30 
 
 Oil City Sixty Years Ago 38 
 
 Jack McCray 37 
 
 A Greedy Landlord 40 
 
 When Oil City was a Shanty Town , . . . 46 
 
 High Standard Officials who are Natives of Brokenstraw Valley . . 49 
 
 Big Things Which Started in Western Pennsylvania 52 
 
 Could Not Give His Rocky Hillside Away 55 
 
 A Public Spirited and Successful Editor 60 
 
 Something About Gas 63 
 
 Youngsville's Prospects of Oil and Gas 66 
 
 Bad Oil Speculation 70 
 
 H. P. Kinnear and the L O. 0. F 73 
 
 Oil Region Inhabitants 77 
 
 Pickpockets 81 
 
 Old Time Lumbermen 84 
 
 New Times in Oildom 88 
 
172 OLD TIMES IN OILDOM 
 
 CONTENTS (CONTINUED.) 
 
 Page 
 
 Old Time Oil Tanks 92 
 
 Starving Animals 97 
 
 Old Time Quadrille Band 101 
 
 Churches in the Old Times 104 
 
 God Bless the Swedes 109 
 
 Youngsville's Founders and Business Men 114 
 
 New Times in Oildom 121 
 
 "Dune" Karns and "Tom" King 125 
 
 Warren's Big Men 129 
 
 West Virginia Experiences 134 
 
 Rambling Recollections of the Last Fifty Years in the Oil and 
 
 Lumber Country 140 
 
 Interesting Letters to the Author 146 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Gen. Charles Miller 149 
 
 Hon. Glenni W. Scofield ....*. 150 
 
 Hon. O. C. Allen 151 
 
 Hon. John L. McKinney 153 
 
 Hon. Chas W. Stone 155 
 
 Hon. W. M. Lindsey 156 
 
 C. N. Payne 158 
 
 Frank M. Knapp 159 
 
 Geo. E. Langdon 160 
 
 James Roy 162 
 
 Capt. H. H. Cummings 165 
 
 Hon. J. C. McKinney 166 
 
 Hon. R. E. Dickinson .' 167 
 
 A. J. Hazeltine 168 
 
 Hon. J. B. White 170 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY GEO; W. BROWN 
 
j;.;j 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div.