YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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Gift of
M. Ray Sanborn

John Washington Steele (Coal Oil Johnny).
Taken during Philadelphia Career.

Coal Oil Johnny

Story of His Career as Told
by Himself.

(John Washington Steele. )

FRANKLIN, PA., 1902.

Copyright, 1902, by
John Washington Steele.

C.ksa330

Press of
Hill Publishing Co.,
New York.

List of Illustrations.

John Washington Steele (Coal Oil Johnny). Taken dur
ing Philadelphia Career.
Home of "Coal Oil Johnny" on the old farm. The
Culbertson McClintock House.
Moulh of Oil Creek, next day after a pond freshet.
View of Oil Creek from Steele Farm. Looking towards
Rynd Farm.
View down Oil Creek from Steele Farm, showing Rouse-
ville on the left.
"Coal Oil Johnny" standing at the site of the famous
Hammond Well.
Latest Photograph of Mr. Steele, "Coal Oil Johnny."

Introduction.

So much of a misleading nature had been
written concerning my career, that I re
solved, after earnest consultation with
friends, to present this little volume. While
visiting Franklin, Pennsylvania, several
years ago the matter was definitely planned,
and Mr. S. H. Gray kindly consented to as
sist me in the preparation of the volume;
and to him I feel under many obligations
for advice and help. He is the first man to
whom I ever related those incidents of my
life in which the people have always mani
fested so much interest. I am also under
greater obligations to General Charles Mil
ler, of Franklin, Pa., than I can find power
to express. His kindly, helpful nature,
which expresses itself in good deeds in so
many ways, has proven a great encourage
ment to me while arranging this volume.
I present the narrative to the world with

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
no apologies whatever. In it I have tried to
clearly and succinctly set forth some of the
features which appear to have proven attrac
tive when reference has been made to them
in the newspaper press. It would be pre
sumptions for me to predict the cordiality of
the reception which this little volume will
receive. It is published not so much for any
benefit which may accrue to me as to set at
rest many of the misrepresentations which
have been set in circulation concerning my
career ; and I have tried to make the narra
tion as accurate as the lapse of many years
will permit. I remain.
Most sincerely,
JOHN WASHINGTON STEELE,
Franklin, Pa. (Coal-Oil Johnny).
April 22nd, 1901.

Coal Oil Johnny — His Book.

CHAPTER I.
The incidents surrounding my early life
may not prove of great interest to the reader
who will search these pages for lively and
exciting occurrences, but they may prove in
some measure attractive in showing from
what a prosaic existence may spring circum
stances which have to some extent "set the
world agog."
I, John Washington Steele, better known
to the public as "Ooal-Oil Johnny," was in
troduced to this big and busy world in the
year of our Lord 1843, near Sheakleville,
Mercer County, Pennsylvania. Whether or
not I was born under a lucky star is one of
those things which it is difficult to deter
mine. Providence seemed kindly disposed
to me certainly during the early part of my
life, and possibly would have been as devoted
to me during my whole career had I not

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
taken the bit in my teeth and pulled away on
my own responsibility, cheerfully assisted at
times by others, and leaving Providence, fig
uratively speaking, to go one way, while I
traversed a path which to a large extent was
wholly and entirely my own.
When I was one and a half years of age
my sister, Permelia, who was two years
older, and I, were adopted into the family of
Culbertson McClintock, a well-to-do farmer,
comparatively speaking, who lived on Oil
Creek in the County of Venango, Pennsyl
vania, across the creek from and slightly
above the present site of Rouseville. So the
only parents I ever knew were "Uncle Cul
bertson" and his wife Sarah, whom we al
ways called "Aunt Sally," and no parents
could have treated children with greater
care and kindness than we were treated by
this loving couple, whose greatest delight
seemed to be in doing good to others. In
these later years my memory has often gone
back to them, and always with a heart full
of gratitude, although not unmixed with re
gret, because of the fact that I did not al
ways so conduct myself as to better pay the
honest tribute due their memorv.

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Hamilton McClintock, the father of Cul
bertson McClintock, my benefactor, was one
of the first settlers of the Oil Creek valley —
for it was known as the Oil Creek valley long
before the time of oil derricks, flowing wells,
and quickly acquired fortunes — and he di
vided his acres amongst his three sons, Cul
bertson, James Jr., and Hamilton, the latter
occupying the old homestead, situated on
the site of the present and once thriving
town of McClintockville.
In those times the farmers living along
that afterwards famous stream were depend
ent for a livelihood upon the produce of their
hard and stony acres. Measured by the
agricultural standard of other portions of
the country, the land was not fertile, and
the woodland to be cleared, and the rocks
to be removed, presented obstacles which
would have appalled a less hardy class of
people. However, their tastes were simple
and their wants easily satisfied, and cease
less and untiring industry brought to the
homes of many what in those days were com
parative comforts. Culbertson McClintock
did not live to see the golden flood of wealth
which in later years swept down the valley,

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
transforming everything as by the wand of
an enchanter, for in the year 1855 he died, at
the age of forty-five.
My boyhood days upon the farm were but
a repetition of the existence of thousands of
other youngsters who lived in comparatively
isolated communities. It was a life that
would have killed a city boy with its loneli
ness, but to one who had never known any
thing else it was chock-full of interest and
excitement. Was not the barking of foxes
within a few yards of the house a sound
pleasing to the ears of a youth who liked to
hunt? And were not the cries of the wild
cats welcome music to a youth who liked the
excitement of a shot at the "pesky var
mints?" And surely nothing could have
been more exciting than for a bare-footed
boy trying to dodge the rattlesnakes which
were at that time so plentiful along the
creek. I used to go hunting for them with
a favorite dog, who regarded all rattlesnakes
as his legitimate prey, and knew how to des
patch them with ease. However, I do not
recommend rattlesnakes as fit playmates for
children, but I want to say that, as snakes
go, the rattler is the king among them, a

id

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
gentleman when compared with other crawl
ing things. He never intrudes himself upon
your presence, always gives you a fair warn
ing when you are about to intrude upon his,
and will get out of your way when given half
a chance. As a boy I knew him well, and for
him I cherished a respect which has never
dimmed with years.
The country bordering on Oil Creek at
that time was a veritable huntsman's para
dise. Rabbits, squirrels, and game birds
were plentiful, and during vacation times I
enjoyed myself.
Once a week I used to sling a bag of grain
over the shoulders of a horse and ride up
through the lonely woods to Irwin's mill, at
Cherry Tree. This was rare fun, and I al
ways enjoyed it more than any chore I had
to perform around the home.
I presume the evenings were lonely
enough, but they did not seem so then. In
the summer time we retired shortly after
sundown. But if a boy does go to bed it
does not follow that he goes to sleep, and
many an hour have I lain awake listening
to the song of the whippoorwills, and the
ghostly hooting of the owls, the cry of the
wildcats, and the bark of the foxes. („)

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Indeed, little did we care in those times
for the outside world. We only dreamed of
it, or listened to stories of it as they fell
from the lips of some stranger or peddler
who chanced for an evening to be enjoying
the hospitality of the fireside, or maybe
caught some glimpses of it from the columns
of the weekly newspaper.
In the summer time, before I had reached
an age where I could assist much around the
farm, I attended school at what was known
as the McClintock school-house, a short dis
tance down the creek from the farm, and in
the winter time I received instruction at the
Blood school-house, situated two or three
miles above our place. One winter I attend
ed the "academy" at Cherry Tree, an institu
tion of learning of some pretensions for the
time and locality. It was presided over by
a Mr. and Miss Crosby, and branches of
knowledge were taught that were not
touched upon in the district schools of that
period. It was at this school that I "gradu
ated," that is, it ended my education so far
as schooling was concerned, except for a
short period many years afterward. Mrs.
McClintock was a woman of good education
12

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
for those days, and she possessed the prac
tical and sensible idea that it was essential
that everyone should be more or less versed
in "book laming;" and for this reason ad
vantages were afforded me, which compared
with those received by some of the other boys
of the neighborhood at that time might be
considered exceptional. However, I cannot
say that I took advantage of the chances of
fered me or profited by them as fully as some
who were less favored.
My "Uncle" and "Aunt" were members of
what was called the Seceders' Church, with
a creed supposed to represent the old-time
Presbyterian faith, and the meeting-house
which they attended was situated in Oak
land Township, about three miles from our
home. It is standing there to-day. My
benefactors being religiously inclined, lived
conscientiously according to the light which
was given them, and were faithful church
goers. "Aunt Sally" believed in walking the
straight and narrow path, and tried to per
suade others to walk in it; and she drilled
me faithfully in the weekly Scripture lesson,
with the result that while yet a lad I could
recite the first four Gospels of the Bible, a
13

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
number of the Acts, and could answer cor
rectly the hundred or more questions of the
catechism, "without looking at the book."
Early on each Sunday morning the tasks
about the farm would be completed, and the
family, seated in the lumber wagon, would
start for the Oakland church. The edifice
is, and was at that time, surrounded by a
large wood, and the gatherings there on Sun
days bore no little resemblance to what are
known in some sections of the country as
"old settlers' meetings." The worshippers
assembled somewhat early, hitched their
horses to the trees, and the neighbors would
gather in groups and gossip of the doings
of the vicinity during the preceding week,
and, of course, the crops and the state of the
weather were unfailing topics.
We always took our lunch with us, for
worshipping in those times required time
and physical hardihood, and refreshment
was necessary. At ten a. m. Sunday-school
would convene and continue in session until
eleven, when Elder Slentz would begin a dis
course which smacked of earnestness, prom
ising eternal forgiveness and happiness to
those who would repent, and setting forth a
14

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
certainty of fire and brimstone for the un
repentant. His abjurations were always at
tended with terrific poundings of the Bible
or the pulpit. I boyishly argued that one of
his principal reason for carrying on in this
way was to prevent all the younger and
some of the older members going to sleep.
But that was only a boy's way of looking at
it, and possibly in my thoughts I did the
good man an injury.
After the forenoon services the congrega
tion were given fifteen minutes to lunch,
after which we would regather to listen to a
second discourse from the minister, which
was never less than an hour in length.
No one could blame a youngster for want
ing to sleep, but "Aunt Sally," who occupied
one of the seats at the side of the pulpit, took
me in with her, and by pinching and shak
ing managed to keep me fairly attentive un
til the close of the meeting.
The congregation having thus become in
ured to hardship, were not extremely shock
ed when in later years my aunt discovered
that I had a voice suitable enough, accord
ing to her idea, for singing bass in the choir,
and persuaded me to join that aggregation.
15

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
As a member of the choir I did my best, sang
way down low while others sang high or
half-way between, and in some way escaped
punishment for the crimes I committed in
the name of music. But "Aunt Sally" was
pleased, and that settled it with me.

i6

CHAPTER IL
The house in which we lived when I was
a boy was of the old-fashioned, log-cabin
style of architecture, of one room, with a
door and window at each side, while at one
end was a large fire-place which furnished
light and warmth for the house, as well as
heat for cooking purposes. About the room
were strung festoons of dried apples, dried
pumpkins, and red peppers. The roof of a
shed built against one end of the house
served as a means for reaching the garret,
wberein were stored many of the farming
implements when not in use, and in this
room were also placed the butternuts, wal
nuts, hickory-nuts, and chestnuts, which I
always gathered in the fall and put away
for the long winter evenings.
In this place, too, "Aunt Sally" stored her
"yarbs," prominent among which was a
goodly supply of boneset, for she believed in
the efficacy of the tea made from that plant
as firmly as I despised the concoction. Were
anything wrong with my physical organiza-
17

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
tion, out would come the boneset, and I
would be treated to an internal bath until
my soul cried out in protest. Many a time
did I suffer in silence rather than to endure
a deluge of my Aunt's favorite remedy.
The neighborhood frolics were gatherings
which I always enjoyed. Nuts were brought
down from the garret, and cracked between
a hammer and fiat-iron, the reddest and
juiciest apples came from the cellar, and
cider drawn from the best barrel into the big
pitcher. And with the old fire-place all
aglow, the conversation seasoned with, per
haps, crude, but hearty, wit, hardships were
forgotten, and the evenings would wear
away with a zest and happiness which
were never experienced in later life, and left
deep impressions upon the memory which
can always be recalled with the keenest
pleasure. One day Mr. McClintock purchased a cook-
stove, and thenceforward the cooking and
heating were performed by this means ; and,
while not so cheerful as the old fire-place, it
was more convenient, and it seemed to me
we stepped up one rung higher in the social
ladder than our neighbors who were stove-
i8

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
less. I put my hands in my pockets, tipped
my hat back on my head further than was
usual, and went boasting among the boys at
school about that new cook-stove up "to
our house." This assumption on my part
excited base envy among my comrades, of
course, and they at times would argue their
side of the question in such a way as to leave
scars upon my anatomy, as well as upon
their own. But I stood by the stove with the
earnestness of an old crusader, and the cook-
stove won. It was bound to do so, and when •
it did, was the proudest moment of my life.
Later Mr. McClintock built a frame addi
tion to his house for living apartments, and
the old log structure was made to do duty as
a kitchen. When other additions came in
later years, the old log house was demol
ished, and the McClintock house looked, ex
cept for its age, as it does to-day standing on
the hill above the creek.
The saddest incident of my youthful days,
when the mind is so sensitive to impressions,
was the death of my sister. My boyish
grief for a time was uncontrollable, and it
was hard for me to reason how a Providence
represented to be so kind and loving should
19

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
take away one who was so much to me. As
time rolls on, they say we forget to a great
extent such things as the passing away of
those who have been near to us: but I can
not believe this is strictly true. I think that
rather one learns to better conceal the grief
from others as time rolls around, though
the scar is always there. Two years after
the death of my sister, Emily Scott was tak
en into the family. She was older than I,
and her coming cheered the loneliness some
what which we had all felt after the death
of my sister. Some years later she married
Richard Moffitt, but only lived about five
years. As I have already mentioned, the stream
upon whose banks we lived had been called
Oil Creek for years before the beginning of
the oil excitement, and this name was prob
ably given it because of the oil springs
which bubbled up at different places along
its course. One of these was in
the creek at our farm. We would
construct a dam to keep most of
the water away from it. and the oil
would form on top of a pool, and be soaked
up by a fiannel rag which was placed on top
20

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
of the water. When this rag became soaked
with oil, the contents would be squeezed in
to a bucket. This was necessarily very slow
work, and probably not more than a barrel a
year could be gathered in that way, but we
received seventy-five cents to a dollar a gal
lon for it from those who bottled it and sold
it under the label of "Seneca Oil." Why it
was called by that name is not clear, but
possibly because of the Seneca tribe of In
dians which in the earlier days flourished,
hunted, and scalped, in that vicinity. The
label on the bottle set forth the fact that
"Poor Lo" believed in the efficacy of the rem
edy for his aches and pains, as an induce
ment for the white man to use it. And use
it the white man did, especially if he were a
resident along the creek, for all the ills that
flesh is heir to, and took the fluid internally,
externally, and eternally.
When Culbertson McClintock died he left
the farm to his wife for her use during her
lifetime, with a provision that after her
death it was to go to me. I was but twelve
years of age when my uncle went the way
of all earth, but, nevertheless, I set to work
with a will to do what I could around the
21

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
farm. I was never accused of laziness, not
even in spending money in later years. My
shoulder was thus early braced to the wheel,
and throughout the most of my life it has
been kept steadily there. A time when it
was not, and the circumstances relating to
that period, will be referred to in some of
the later chapters. But my life at this time
was one even, plodding course, and left me
but little time to think or care for what was
going on outside of the conflnes of the Oil
Creek valley.
And so I might have always lived a quiet,
homely life, and been always a respected
tiller of the soil, had not a Yankee by the
name of Drake drilled a hole in the ground
up near Titusville, and released such a foun
tain of oily wealth that it started excursions
of fortune-seekers from all over Christen
dom to our quiet and peaceful valley.
Where before the visit of a stranger had
been of rare occurrence, they now came in
crowds to the quiet settlements and home
steads of Oil Creek, — high-booted, flannel-
shirted men on horseback, who offered such
amazing sums for a lease of our stony acres
that it almost seemed a dream, They scat-
22

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
tered wealth in such profusion that we
gaped in open-mouthed wonder, and it was
from these men that I first caught a glimpse
of how life was lived in the great space be
yond my limited horizon.
A great many of our neighbors, as well as
ourselves, discovered that we had been
camping right on top of several independent
fortunes and had never for an instant sus
pected it. Jimmy Buchanan, the good-
natured Irishman across the creek, even in
one of his highest flights of imagination —
and he took a flight once in a while — never
suspected that so much wealth would come
to anyone, even when he was dreaming of
the glories of his adopted country from the
bogs of "Ould Ireland." Scrub-timber lands,
which had been considered of no value,
turned out to be veritable gold mines of
wealth. Mrs. McClintock leased her farm to a
number of oil operators, and for each lease
received the usual bonus of four or five hun
dred dollars, payable at the drawing up of
the lease, and received one-eighth royalty on
all the oil produced. The land favored and
taken by the oil men was mostly that por-
23

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
tion near the creek, the low-lying bottoms,
for in the early days of oil the producers
ignored the hilly portions, arguing that land
of that kind would not prove valuable for
the purposes of oil production, and as a con
sequence neglected many thousands of acres
which in later years gave forth immense for
tunes. So the Oil Creek valley became a busy hive
of industry almost in the twinkling of an
eye. Derricks reached skyward everywhere,
and the sound of the pumping engine was
heard in the land. Busy, hustling humanity
had taken possession of our quiet acres and
overridden them, and, instead of the peace-
fulness of yore, the mad race for wealth en
compassed everything, and changed condi
tions completely. Towns sprung up like
mushrooms on a fall morning, and attracted
the class of people who always flock to those
communities where law and order are set to
one side, and, as a result, a reign of lawless
ness often ensued that was only equalled by
that of the mining camps of the West.
At the mouth of Oil Creek, a settlement
composed of a mill, a blacksmith shop, a
store, and a few houses, grew into a good-
24

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
sized, progressive city, whose growth of
buildings was too slow at first to keep up
with the inflow of population. An oil ex
change was afterwards established, and Oil
City controlled the oil market of the world.
From the howling, bustling, crazy, wicked
place of that time. Oil City has developed
into a municipality of substantial progress.
Prospectors came and went, waded in mud,
slept in mud, ate mud, and drank — well,
everything and anything except water. The
old residents of the valley rubbed their eyes
at these sights, — and bought safes in which
to store the wealth which now came to many
of them so easily.
Evidences of prosperity crept slowly into
our houses, in the form of pictures, carpets,
and more pretentious furniture, and "biled"
shirts became commoner than they had been
in the earlier times. Children were sent to
colleges and academies to receive a "polish"
not theretofore procurable. The wand of
the enchanter was over the valley, turning
everything it .touched into gold, and some
were there who were getting ready to spend
it, and I was no minor exception.
In the year 1862 I was married to Eleanor
25

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
J. Moffitt, the eldest daughter of Robert
Moffitt, a well-to-do farmer of Oakland
Township, Venango County, Pa. We had
known each other from childhood, had at
tended the same church, and participated in
the same neighborhood festivities. At this
time I was nineteen years of age. A kind
Providence is good to those to whom He
gives a faithful and loving helpmeet, and in
this respect I was especially favored.
Through all my hardship and trial, in good
and ill repute, through sunshine and shadow
my wife never lost faith in me, and to her
alone is due mainly the credit for all that
I am to-day.
Our marriage was blessed by the birth of
a son, Oscar C, who now holds a responsible
position with the Burlington Railroad.

26

CHAPTER III.
With the coming of the oil industry, neces
sarily occupation was afforded to many of
the people who had resided along the creek,
whose attention had theretofore been given
entirely to farming and kindred pursuits.
I went into the business of teaming, work
which was quite remunerative at that time,
as the methods of transportation of oil later
adopted were not then in vogue. Barrels
had to be hauled from Union City, Franklin,
and other points, to the oil flelds, and, when
fllled with oil, these were drawn to the near
est shipping point. Machinery for drilling
and the timber for derrick construction also
furnished plenty of work in the teaming
line. To haul a heavy load through the oil coun
try mud was something of an art, and it
produced as choice a vocabulary of profan
ity as could be found anywhere in the world.
Many of the teamsters of the early days of
the oil excitement took advantage of the tide
which leads to fortune and laid by ample
27

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
riches. Certainly anyone who could over
come such difficulties as were presented by
the muddy travel in those days possessed
sufficient spirit to overcome the hardest of
obstacles, and when applied in the proper di
rection usually resulted in success.
To describe the nature of the oil region
mud is a task beyond my vocabulary. It
seemed but a covering to the bottomless pit,
and a teamster who knew how to swim pos
sessed an advantage over one who did not.
I have never entirely doubted the story told
of one teamster who was found standing
alone by the side of the road, flourishing a
whip, and giving voice to choice exclama
tions of profane text, interspersed with an
occasional "haw," "gee," "git up." A passer
by, having doubts of his soberness or sanity,
approached cautiously and called for an ex
planation of the strange actions, to which
the teamster replied, "Well, stranger, I've
got a team of mules down in this blasted
mud somewhere, and I am trying to per
suade 'em to come out."
There was a great deal of boasting and
betting among the men as to the merits of
their respective teams in the matter of haul-
28

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ing heavy loads. On the road between our
place and the Rynd farm, just above, was a
very steep hill, and to pull a heavy load up
this incline, even when the roads were dry,
was quite a task for a good team of horses.
One day a teamster by the name of Pike was
boasting of the heavy load which a team of
horses belonging to him had drawn up this
incline, and said, "They got up all right, but
you ought to have seen the parables fly out
from under their feet!" I took it that by
"parables" he meant "pebbles."
Another way of transportation early
adopted by the oil men was by boat. Ordin
arily the water was not high enough at all
seasons of the year to allow a heavily loaded
boat to float, but this was overcome by means
of pond freshets. Various dams had been
built along the creek and tributaries for the
operation of mills, and one or two others
were constructed by the oil men. An agree
ment was entered into with the mill men by
which, for a certain amount of money, the
water in the dams was released at stated
times. This would cause the streams to rise,
and the boats were floated down the creek to
the Allegheny River at Oil City, whence
29

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
most of the oil was transported to other
places. The boats were built to carry oil in both
barrels and in bulk, and the position of pilot
was an important one in many respects.
The stream was narrow and crooked in
places, and considerable skill was required,
when the swift rush of water came, to steer
a boat around the bends, keep it away from
the rocks, and prevent its colliding with
other boats. The craft was provided always
with long sweeps or oars, fastened to the
ends, similar to those used on rafts. I
learned the business of piloting boats quite
well, and got through the dangerous occu
pation without any serious mishap.
On "pond fresh" day all was excitement
along the creek for many miles. Hundreds
of boats, loaded with small fortunes of the
greasy fluid, and manned by anxious pilots,
awaited the flood. Finally the water would
come with a rush, bearing with it boats from
up-stream, joined by others as they came
along, and the whole flotilla go helter-skelter
towards the mouth of the creek. Perhaps
a boat by an unlucky collision would lose a
sweep and then go whirling around, caus-
30

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ing dismay to the other boats, whose pilots
were doing their best to dodge it. Some
times a boat would become lodged on a rock
or some other obstacle, and as the other
boats would glide past the pilots would
shout words of "encouragement" to the un
lucky crew, calling forth a bombardment of
profanity which would have sunk a less
formidable fleet.
Having passed safely down stream, one
was apt to get in a jam at the mouth of the
creek, as all the boats came together, and
as may be imagined they would not bump
together delicately, but generally with a
force that scattered kindling wood around
indiscriminately, and would place the crew
in a position where they had to imitate the
historic O'Grady and "swim out." Many
of the bulk boats were not at first provided
with covers, and sometimes the luckless
pilot would be treated to an oil bath from
which he would emerge with feelings too fer
vent to permit of clear utterance.
Crowds of people would assemble at Oil
City on "pond fresh" days to see the mix-
up, and were generally well repaid for their
curiosity. The pilots were a harum-scarum
31

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
lot of fellows, who looked danger in the face
recklessly, and were willing to take chances
after knowing fully how many there were.
My experience taught me that I was well
adapted for this business, better than for
some of the piloting I did in later years.
Up to this period I had never been in a
large city, and I longed to visit one. So
when Mrs. McClintock concluded that I
should take a partnership in the store owned
by her nephew, David Hayes, and decided to
send me to Pittsburg with him to purchase
goods, I was delighted. This was before the
days of railroad transportation down the
valley of the Allegheny, and we made the
trip hj steamboat. Never did I enjoy any
thing more than my visit to Pittsburg. The
scenery on the banks of the beautiful river,
the passengers, the management of the boat,
were features all new and interesting to me.
In Pittsburg Mr. Hayes and I stopped at
a hotel, the name of which I have forgotten,
but I have never forgotten, and shall never
forget, the gorgeousness of the hotel clerk
who received us and bade us welcome. His
manner and diamonds dazzled my unsophis
ticated imagination, and when he got
32

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
through receiving us I considered it a great
condescension on his part to allow us to stop
in the place. The furniture in our rooms was
finer than any I had ever seen, and I was
almost afraid to go to bed. I had not yet
assumed the character of "Coal-Oil John
ny," when rooms of the kind we occupied in
the Pittsburg hotel would have been rejected
by me in that aristocratic and haughty
manner which I suddenly acquired.
Even after I had overcome all my
scruples and retired, I could not
sleep, because I was partially afraid
that someone would come up and order
us out. But after a time I concluded
that the room was really meant for
us, and I fell to thinking of the won
derful things I would have to tell to the
folks when I got back home, the hotel
clerks, the cord which one pulled when he
wanted to order anything, and all that.
Then during the night I could hear the po
licemen shout the hours, with the assurance
that all was well.
But morning came at last, and with it
came my first experience with the festive
drink known as the "cock-tail." What par-
33

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ticular breed this one belonged to I do not
now recall, but I do remember that to me,
who had become somewhat accustomed to
the iron-rusting, boiler-splitting, nerve-
wracking fire-water of the oil regions, it
seemed good; and I struck up this new ac
quaintance in the alcoholic family and re
mained friendly with it for a number of
years. After breakfast I allowed my prospective
partner to go out and purchase the goods
thought necessary for stocking our oil-re
gion emporium, while I proceeded to ride
upon the street cars. I was a little timid
about this at first, but soon learned how
to stop the cars and get on, and found all
that was necessary after that was a nickel a
trip. My bashfulness soon wore off, and I
entered into the spirit of the thing with a
zest that would have done credit to any pur
suit. I believe I rode upon every street car
in Pittsburg that was on duty that day, and
when evening came I was acquainted with a
whole army of conductors and drivers, and
some of them were calling me by my first
name. It is extremely probable that the
street-car company paid a dividend as the
result of my visit to the Iron City. ^j^.

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
While in Pittsburg I purchased a barrel
of syrup. As a boy I had such a fondness
for this kind of sweetness, that I had always
looked forward to a time in life when I
could purchase all of it that I wanted. So I
resolved upon a fulfillment of this consum
ing passion. Never had I been able to
get enough syrup. I ate it upon every ar
ticle of food that I liked. But occasionally
the supply would give out, and my soul be
come possessed with sadness.
As our steamer plied up the Allegheny
River after my eventful visit, and the reflec
tion came to me that the barrel of syrup was
also on board, I concluded that the greatest
happiness that could come to anyone in this
world had come to me. A week or so after
getting home I fairly swam in syrup, then
only waded in it, and shortly got so I could
get through a meal without it and without
feeling any qualms of conscience. At the
end of a month I found my greatest delight
in presenting it by the jugful to various
neighbors that I liked, and later to the
neighbors that I did not like. Too much
sweetness, as well as too much sourness, in
this life, I concluded was not a good thing.
35

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I never went into partnership with Mr.
Hayes, for circumstances so adjusted them
selves that heavier and weightier cares be
came mine, and, instead of the role I had
been playing, I assumed one which for gro-
tesqueness and foolishness soon gained for
me a reputation all over the country.
Anyhow, I do not believe I was cut out for
a merchant, for bargain-making never
seeemed to be my forte. One instance of my
ability in this direction will suffice to give
the reader an insight into my shrewdness.
At one time, there being a dearth of eggs in
the neighborhood, my "aunt" started me out
with the horse and "cracky" to find some for
cooking purposes. I finally brought up in
Dempseytown, visited Merrick's store, and
asked if they had any eggs. Upon being
answered in the affirmative, I inquired the
price, and was astonished to find it so low.
I then asked how many eggs they could let
me have.
"About one hundred dozen," replied the
grocer. "What will you take for the whole lot?"
I next inquired; and the grocer naming a
lower figure than before, I informed him I
36

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
would take them all. And I did. My "aunt"
was astonished at my idea of what was
meant by a "few eggs for cooking purposes ;"
and her liking for me was well shown, when,
in spite of this she was willing to risk money
by putting me up in the grocery business.

37

CHAPTER IV.
It took some time for the people to learn
all the dangers incident to the handling of
petroleum, and it is a wonder that
more fatalities did not occur during
the early days of the oil business.
I might have gone down in history
unheard of and unsung outside of our
immediate diocese had not "Aunt Sally"
one day poured crude oil in the kitchen stove
for the purpose of starting a fire therein.
Doubtless at the time she thought there was
no fire in the stove, and therefore was not
prepared for the fiash which followed and
which set fire to her clothing, burning her
horribly. She died the next day, in the
month of March, 1864, from which date I
might say began my career as "Coal-Oil
Johnny," although the name had not been
applied to me as yet. I was greatly grieved
at the taking away of this good woman and
I mourned her loss as I would have mourned
the loss of a mother. Her main thought in
life had been to make everything happier
39

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and brighter for all whom she considered as
members of her family.
She was a woman with ideas in advance of
her time, and the world would have been bet
ter off with more like her. Most of her
thought and planning had been for me, and
she had provided well for my future. She
had always been generous to me in money
matters, and was generous to others as well.
Of course, when oil was struck on her farm
she received quite an income from that
source. However, she determined to be the
guardian of her own fortune, and she bought
a safe in which to store it. In addition to
the oil income there was something from the
portion of the farm devoted to agriculture,
enough to pay the expenses of the household,
and she used but very little of the money
received from the sale of oil.
The farm and the income therefrom came
to me after the death of Mrs. McClintock, as
I have stated, by virtue of the will of Cul
bertson McClintock, her husband. When the
safe was opened after Mrs. McClintock's
\ death, I found therein, belonging to me,
\twenty-four thousand and five hundred dol
lars. 40

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Of course, this sum found in the safe has
been represented by various writers to
amount to as high as five hundred thousand
dollars ; but the sum I have stated is correct.
Of course, other money came to me from the
farm, and no inconsiderable amount, but of
this I will speak later on.
There were neighbors of ours in the valley
of Oil Creek who realized from the proceeds
of their oil farms fortunes several times lar
ger than the one that came to me. But my
method of disposing of the money which
came to me was so distorted by the news
paper writers that an outsider was at least
partially justified in thinking that I was the
only one who ever realized a bank-roll from
the oil business. Did I care so to do, I could
specify instances where other oily bank ac
counts at that time placed my income com
pletely in the shade.
It is a fact well known that the robbers
secured more money by breaking into John
Benninghoff's house than I ever possessed
even when flying at my top rate of speed and
"cutting a swath" as the greatest spend
thrift and all-'round easy man that the oil
country ever produced. However j some of
41

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
those who realized these fortunes were not
more successful than myself in holding on
to them, but dissipated them by means of
speculation and similar methods. With
mine I scattered vermillion along the high
ways and byways in such a manner as to
draw attention to myself, and lead people
to think I was a great deal richer than was
actually the case.
As I have stated, some of our neighbors
lost money by speculation ; others listened to
the siren-voiced promoters of fiash com
panies, and were scooped ; banks failed and
fieeced others. So when one kindly old
friend got me in a corner one day and said,
"Johnny, you ought to hold on to your
money, because it will come handy some
day," I called his attention to some of the
above-named circumstances, and eloquently
informed him that as it seemed to be the
custom of the people along the creek to lose
their money, I intended to have some fun
with mine before it all got away. And I
did; although, to be truthful, I closely re
sembled a shorn lamb when I had finished.
The people who dwelt in the valley before
the days of oil, were honest, as a rule, and
42

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
had perfect confidence in one another, and
the word of a neighbor was generally accept
ed to be as good as his bond. They were not
bothered by wily schemes of speculators, and
never bought green goods. Trusting their
neighbors, they trusted at first everybody
who floated in with the oil excitement,
many of whom found the confiding farmers
easy marks because of their unfamiliarity
with the business methods of busier places.
And I was innocent, too.
I am not going to offer any apologies for
my course as a "high-flyer." It has been run,
and, knowing what I do now, it would not
be repeated did opportunity offer; but had
I possessed a better insight into the ways of
the world to begin with, and been less con
fident and trustful, the probability is that
such a character as "Coal-Oil Johnny"
would have never been known or used to
scare children with when they were bad.
I concluded, from the amount of money
found in the safe, and which represented
one-eighth royalty on the oil produced, that
the farm, for the three years preceding Mrs.
McClintock's death, had produced eighty
thousand barrels of petroleum a year. I
think this was a safe estimate. f^j,

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Soon after the demise of my "aunt" I
went to Franklin, the county seat of Venan
go County, to consult with a lawyer as to my
business interests. Already the news of an
unsophisticated country boy having fallen
heir to a large fortune, had preceded me. I
desired to find out what legal forms, if any,
were necessary, that my interests might be
protected, as well as the interests of the oil
men who leased various portions of the
farm. The lawyer advised me to allow the
leases to run on as they had been doing, and
that when I became of age I could ratify
them. It did not take him long to give me
this information, in fact, I do not think our
talk extended beyond thirty minutes, yet it
cost me five hundred dollars, the attorney
explaining that this amount could be con
sidered as a retaining fee, and that I could
thereafter feel at liberty to call upon him at
any time for additional advice. I recall dis
tinctly, however, that there was no obliga
tion on his part whatever to pay any part
of the money back provided I should not see
fit to consult him in the future. I paid him
the money, however, without objection, as I
reflected that at that time no one in the oil
44

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
regions was transacting business to benefit
his health. But that five hundred dollars
was the first peel off the roll of twenty-four
thousand dollars found in the safe.
I went back to my farm and attended
strictly to business, collecting my royalties
and otherwise employing my time, and not
in the slightest dreaming of the giddy whirl
into which I was doomed soon to plunge.
Next to my liking for syrup I loved a good
horse. A world full of horses and syrup
would have just suited me at one time ; but
before Mrs. McClintock's death I had satiat
ed my appetite for syrup, though I had
never possessed enough of the "wherewith
al" to satisfy my craving for a good horse.
With the purchase of my first team of real
good horses began that long line of misfor
tunes which finally landed me high and dry
as a wreck upon the reefs of adversity. A
devil always creeps into every man's life in
some way or other. The flrst Satan that
crawled into my garden got there because of
that pair of horses, and the pestiferous devil
caused me no end of trouble.
One day I met a man by the name of Dan
iel Fowler, who hailed from Meadville,
45

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Pennsylvania, and whose occupation was
the selling of barrels to oil producers, as
agent for a cooperage establishment. In
his hearing I expressed the desire to pur
chase a good team, and he ventured the in
formation that he knew where I could get
one; that the animals were owned by a gen
tleman named Barton, who resided in Craw
ford County, not far from the town of Mead
ville. I went up there and purchased the
team. This was the second dip from the money
box, and it was the only one that proved a
profitable investment. I flnally sold the
team for more than I paid for it, the selling
price being one thousand dollars. In other
respects, however, this visit to Meadville did
not result so fortunately, and in many ways
proved in the end to be more expensive than
any I ever made.
A country boy coming into possession of
a fortune, which by hearsay, at any rate,
grew to enormous proportions, with a prob
able income for the future which would
prove much greater, I soon became known
for quite a distance from my native heath,
judging from the innumerable requests for
46

Home of "Coal Oil Johnny" on the old farm.
McClintock House.

The Culbertson

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
money and assistance which came to me
from all directions. Fond parents wanted
money with which to educate their children.
I received confldences from people who had
mortgages on their farms or owed money in
other ways, as to their financial standing.
People who held stock in mines which were
veritable bonanzas offered to part with it to
me for a mere song. Girls asked me for
money with which to buy new dresses; and
others of the fair sex, losing sight of the fact
that I was a married man, and not having
seen me, described their charms in fiowery
phrases, and announced their readiness to
walk up to the altar and be tied to me any
time I would say the word. Maiden ladies
asked me for money wherewith to buy new
dresses and other articles dear to the femin
ine taste, in order that they might make
themselves so presentable as to duly impress
those upon whom they had designs. By re
fusing them I doubtless saved many an un
suspecting male creature from an awful
fate. To reasonable requests I sometimes
responded favorably, but I found it was a
good deal easier to lend money than to get
it back. A great deal has been brought up
47

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
against me, and much reproach heaped upon
me, but I can say conscientiously that I
never refused to assist a friend in need
whenever I could consistently do so.
However, I have noticed that when I stood
most in need of friends very few of the beg
gars were around to lend me their aid, or
even proffer a word of sympathy. Some of
those nearer my home, knowing my unso
phisticated ways, started out with the de
liberate intent to separate me from my bank
roll. One of these was Dan Fowler, the fel
low who had engineered the horse deal.
I do not wish to do anyone an injustice.
Perhaps in most cases I was my own worst
enemy, but Fowler's actions towards me, as
I hope to show, fully warrant my belief.
He was a plausible fellow, of excellent ad
dress, but of the genus that is best described
as "cute." When I went to Meadville to look
at the horses his manner to me was most
affable, his words were honeyed, and I had
not been in his company fifteen minutes be
fore my head was whirling with the idea
that I was not only one of the sharpest but
one of the greatest financiers on earth. He
invited me to his house, introduced me to
48

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
his friends, and entertained me better and
with more consideration than I had ever
known before. One of those with whom he
made me acquainted was Mr. Horace Oul
lom. I had not been talking to the latter
many minutes before he made me a business
proposition, the substance of which was that
he proposed to erect a business block on a
lot which he owned, situated at the corner
of Chestnut and Water streets, and he de
sired me to take a half interest. The induce
ments which he held out were so fiattering
that I was not long in making up my mind
to accept them, and I agreed to pay forty-
five thousand dollars for my share. Articles
to this effect were duly drawn up, presuma
bly by Mr. Oullom himself, and I agreed to
pay five thousand dollars down, and five
thousand dollars a month thereafter, until
the total was all paid in. He was to super
intend the putting up of the building, and
all I was to do was to put up my share of
the money. In view of what later occurred
I will state that, either directly or through
my agent, I kept up these payments, and
have in my possession at the present time
a receipt for the whole amount so paid.
49

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
In the course of the conversation which
resulted in the foregoing transaction, Mr.
Oullom mentioned that he was the owner of
a fine residence property, situated, as I re
member, at the corner of Crab Alley and
Chestnut street, in Meadville, and as I had
been so willing to invest in the business
block, he said he thought that possibly I
would be willing to purchase the house and
lot. This led me to visit the premises in his
company, with the result that I purchased it
for ten thousand dollars. At the same time,
I bought the Barton farm, where I had pur
chased the horses, for the sum of seven
thousand dollars.
I knew as much about real estate as a pig
knows about the dead languages, and after
wards I discovered that I had granted a
favor of considerable proportions instead of
having been the recipient of one.
Mrs. McClintock died in March, and the
Meadville transactions occurred in the fol
lowing May.
My Meadville friends still insisted on
granting me favors, and Fowler having flat
tered me into a partial belief that I was the
greatest and sharpest financier of my time,
50

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
shortly after the date of the foregoing trans
actions I was induced to purchase several
choice building lots, for which I laid down
the snug sum of fifty-five hundred dollars.
My wife was in extremely poor health at
this time, and had been for some months.
I called in a young physician from Mead
ville to diagnose her case, a doctor whom I
had met on my visits to that place. His ad
vice was that a change of scene would be
beneficial to Mrs. Steele's health. For this
advice he did not charge me anything, for
which I was very grateful. However, later
he confided to me the desire to borrow six
hundred dollars in order to take a further
course in medicine, and I loaned it to him.
He has it yet. At least he never returned it
to me ; and I have an impression that I paid
pretty dearly for professional advice at that
time, both to lawyers and doctors. The ad
vice of the doctor, however, proved to be the
most expensive in the long run, as it led me
to Philadelphia, where, before I left, I dis
posed of a goodly sum of the coin of the
realm in various ways. But I have always
hoped that the "pill mechanic" finished his
education and lived happy ever after.
51

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
The events here related, in connection
with what occurred later, will show that I
was gradually getting into a position from
which I was to emerge eventually not only
as a lamb much shorn, but very greatly dis
figured.

52

CHAPTER V.
Following the advice of the good Samari
tan "who took me in," I made arrangements
to take my wife and boy to Philadelphia,
hoping they would be benefitted by the
change of scene and climate. My father-in-
law had been a merchant in the Quaker City
before moving to Venango County, and we
had many friends and relatives in the city.
So I hired an agent by the name of John
Williams to look after my interests while I
would be away, leaving instructions for him
to report to me regularly as to business at
the farm. This was in the latter part of
May, 1864. However, before starting for
Philadelphia, the famous Hammond well
came in. It was located on the fiat portion
of the farm, down close to the creek. It
flowed at the rate of three hundred barrels a
day, and proved the center of much interest
and excitement. The income from this
source promised to swell my income to no
inconsiderable extent, and I jumped into
greater "prominence" than ever as one of
53

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
the lucky "oil kings" of the time. Special
dispatches, greatly exaggerated, were sent
out regarding this new strike.
No fortune ever comes easier to a man
than the income from royalties on oil. In
the flrst place, there is practically nothing
to lose financially, the entire risk being as
sumed by the producer, and, if a lucky strike
be made, the money from the royalty comes
so fast as to leave one in a kind of a trance.
With me it was surely a case of "come easy,
go easy." All I had to do at this time was
to loaf around, smoke good cigars, and
watch my bank-roll swell. Yet while it was
all I was compelled to do, it was not all that
I did. So much wealth bothered me, and I
was itching with a desire, which I guess had
always lain dormant in me, to get rid of it.
The opportunity to do so arrived, and I took
advantage of it.
Also about this time the "Lone Star" well
was struck, which was a good one. At this
period, too, I became acquainted with
Mr. William H. Wickham, of New
York City, afterwards mayor of that fam
ous metropolis, I believe, and who at
this time like thousands of others,
54

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
was in the oil regions seeking invest
ment. He was a member of the firm of
Wickham & Jones, and when the Hammond
well was struck he offered to purchase my
one-eighth royalty right in the lease for one
hundred thousand dollars. After some
thought I agreed to accept his proposition,
and one Saturday afternoon the bargain
was verbally completed. It being late in
the day, however, it was agreed that he
should come to my place on the following
Monday, when articles would be signed and
I should receive the money.
But alas! My fondest hopes were shat
tered, and fortune frowned where I expected
to be favored with a smile. On Sunday the
well stopped flowing, it having been flooded
out by water on account of the pulling of
the tubing from a couple of wells across the
creek from it. I stood and gazed at the well,
and realized that one hundred thousand dol
lars had slipped through my fingers without
the slightest trouble, and I felt worse about
this than if some masked robber had held
me and taken it from me forcibly. For the
first time I realized how it felt to have my
hand upon a fortune and then lose it, and
55

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
for the first time I appreciated the feelings
of one who had staked a fortune upon the
turn of a card and lost.
However, in the present case the malefac
tor was Nature, and while in later life I
learned the uselessness of filing objections
to her decrees, I was not so wise at this time,
and some of my kicks were of the forcible
variety. But through the dark cloud of misfortune
and disappointment I suddenly caught some
glimmer of hope. I had not agreed to part
with my interest in the Hammond on the
ground that it was a flowing well, and this
presented to me a chance of which I tried to
take advantage. As I have said, our agree
ment of Saturday had not been reduced to
writing, and I flgured that if I could get
down to Oil City and have the papers drawn
up and signed before Wickham started for
the farm, all would be well, and my con
science would be clear. Of course, there was
a probability that he would ask me if the
well was still flowing, but I would not be
able to tell for sure, as it might start up
again during the night, and I would not
visit the well before leaving for Oil City
Monday morning. (j^j

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
It was early on that day when my agent,
Williams, and myself, hitched the fastest
horse in the barn to a light buggy, and
started on a race down the creek for a hun
dred thousand dollar stake. Never did I
take a trip in which I was so much interest
ed. The horse ran most of the way, the
mud was scattered promiscuously, and
through the early dawn of that Monday
morning inquiring faces peeped out at us
from the windows of houses and from derrick
doors. To get to Oil City before Wickham
left was my one aim and purpose, and every
other idea was banished from my head as we
tore madly down the road.
It happened, however, that Wickham was
also an early riser, for we met him just on
the outskirts of the place. My heart went
down into my boots, and I reasoned correct
ly that the "jig was up." Vainly I argued
that he had better turn back, as I was going
to Oil City on business, and while there we
could draw up the papers and complete the
deal. Whether he observed any traces of
anxiety in my voice or face I do not know,
but I do recall distinctly that he said, "No,
let's go up and take a look at the well first."
57

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
The blow was struck right there, all
thoughts of the fortune vanished suddenly,
and with sadness I turned my horse around,
and remarked, with all the steadiness I
could master, "All right, I'll go back with
you." I went back. I never let him know that I
was trying to take advantage of a little over
sight in language to sell my interest in the
well. In fact, I told him I was pleased to
discover that the well had stopped, flowing,
before he turned over the money, and he did
not know how happy it had made me that he
had insisted on going to the lease before
completing the agreement. Yet I must con
fess, happy as I was, I have had far happier
moments in my life. Of course, the agree
ment was called off, and I compromised with
my conscience as cheerfully as possible by
writing one hundred thousand dollars in the
column of losses.
The newspapers printed a report to the
effect that I received two hundred thousand
dollars for my interest in the well, which, in
view of what actually occurred, was slightly
misleading. However, it assisted in making
58

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
my burdens heavier, as many hundreds of
people, believing I was animated with a sin
cere desire to part from my money, offered
their services as separators, and I received
enough proposals of marriage to have caused
the most pronounced Mormon to drop dead
from joy. The current report that the
Hammond well flowed six hundred barrels
a day was also wrong, but nearer the truth
than the statement that I sold my interest
in it.
In spite of the unsatisfactory outcome of
the Hammond well transaction, Mr. Wick
ham remained in the neighborhood and paid
me an occasional visit. He informed me that
he was anticipating a trip to New York, and,
as this was about the time I intended leaving
for Philadelphia with my family, he gave me
a very pressing invitation to accompany
him to his home. This I accepted, and ar
ranged that my people should follow me in
a couple of days, when I would proceed with
them to Philadelphia. Wickham seemed to
take a great deal of interest in me; in fact, I
thought treated me better than I deserved.
Retaining a vivid recollection of the Ham-
59

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
mond well incident, I would have taken it
as more appropriate if he had refused to
consider that I was on earth. But later I
came to a better understanding of his mo
tives. I went to New York with him, smoked his
Havana cigars, played billiards with him,
drank his good wines, and feasted sumptu
ously. The sights of the city interested me.
Unlike my trip to Pittsburgh, I did not ride
on the street cars, but in a stylish carriage
driven by a coachman; and considered my
self "It." Wickham introduced me to his
friends as a smart young man and a great
financier, but I could not guess the meaning
unless he had reference to the team of horses
which I had bought for six hundred dollars
and sold for a thousand. I was so well
pleased with this visit, that my mind was
made up to see more of the doings of large
cities, and I did. I was beginning to see the
world outside of the narrow surroundings
of my previous life, and it was a world which
attracted me more and more.
My family joined me in New York, and
we proceeded to Philadelphia. This was in
June, 1864. Leaving my people with their
60

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
friends in the Quaker City, I returned to the
oil regions, to see how matters were pro
gressing. And it was on this trip to the Oil
Creek farm that I discovered Seth R. Slo-
cum.

6i

Mouth of Oil Creek, next day after ,v pond freshet.

CHAPTER VI.
This man Slocum was a man of the world,
without all the refinements that sometimes
go with such a character. His home was in
Erie, Pennsylvania, and he belonged to a
most excellent family. There was nothing
in his face or bearing to attract anyone, but
he possessed a smooth tongue and an insid
ious manner, which enabled him to easily win
the confidence of one as gullible as myself.
The faculty of winning one's good will is a
commendable one if used rightly, but is
dangerous if it is not, and, as Slocum never
showed any evidences to me of having a con
science, and as I became his willing follower,
the result can be guessed.
I have seen people on the stage perform
antics when under the control of hypnotic
performers that they would not have per
formed, for any inducement, had they been
in possession of their own will. And certain
it is that under the spell of Slocum's in
fluence I cut capers without the slightest
protest or murmur that I never would have
63

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
thought of had I been left to my own sweet
self. I found Slocum at the farm when I ar
rived there from Philadelphia, and he in
formed me that he was in search of work.
In this way our acquaintance began. The
conversation led from one topic to another,
and his ready tongue and patronizing man
ner, which so often prove attractive to those
not experienced in the ways of the world,
allayed any suspicion I might have had, and
captured my imagination completely. In
fact, I was not long in reaching the con
clusion that Slocum was the best friend I
had on earth, one who was solely animated
with a desire for my welfare and happiness.
Therefore, when he volunteered to go to
Philadelphia with me and "show me the
town," at my expense, I considered he was
doing me a great favor, and accepted his
offer with pleasure, and agreed to pay the
bills if he would perform his part of the
agreement properly. I kept my agreement
so far as I could, but Slocum's habits seemed
to expand with age, as did my own, and
when we were at the zenith of our career
it kept a good healthy income busy to stay
64

COAL oil JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
anywhere near us. Slocum kept his part of
the bargain faithfully; in fact, I sometimes
thought he went farther than he had agreed
to do.
Arriving in the Quaker City with my new
ly formed acquaintance, I stowed him away
temporarily at the Girard House, and went
to visit my family. I found the house in
which they were stopping quarantined, and
learned that my little boy was ill with the
small-pox. Not being permitted to see him
I returned to the hotel, and took up my
quarters there, not feeling very cheerful
over the dangerous illness of my son. How
ever, in a few days he was reported out of
danger, and having received news con
cerning my agent at the farm which seemed
to justify a visit there, I started back, and
took Slocum along. He went with me
because he volunteered to accompany me,
and would not listen to a refusal. He had
possibly already found out that I was a
"good thing" and did not wish to lose me.
I installed a new agent at the farm, by the
name of William Blackstone, and Slocum
and I returned to Philadelphia. Then in
October I took my people back to the farm.
65

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
It was on this trip to the old place that I
next saw Wickham after our New York
visit, and he agreed to purchase the farm
outright for one million dollars. This I re
fused, and returned to Philadelphia, and re
joined Slocum. However, Wickham sought
me out in Philadelphia and renewed his of
fer for the property, but again I refused
him; but, after much bargaining, it was
agreed that I would dispose of the farm to
him for twelve hundred thousand dollars.
Of this amount he paid me thirty thousand
dollars spot cash, which was to represent
the rental of the farm at the rate of five
thousand dollars a month for six months,
and, if at the end of said period I could
make a clear deed to him, the thirty thou
sand dollars was to be considered as a part
of the purchase price, and the balance of the
twelve hundred thousand to be turned over
to me.
Sometime previous to the making of this
bargain Hamilton McClintock, a brother of
Culbertson McClintock, my benefactor, had
secured a lease on the farm which I had not
ratified, and he had brought suit for the pur
pose of breaking the will of Culbertson Mc-
66

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Clintock, by the provisions of which I had
come into possession of the farm at Mrs. Mc
Clintock's death. Therefore, this suit at
that time stood in the way of making a clear
title, and it was necessary for me to wait
until the litigation had been disposed of. In
the meantime Wickham took the farm on
the terms agreed, put his agent upon it, and
operated it for his own benefit. It was also
agreed that, if at the end of the six-month
period I could not give a deed, the thirty
thousand dollars was to be considered only
as so much rental paid, and the farm was
to come back to me. Otherwise, the balance
of the money was to be paid to me by Wick
ham. Therefore, all I could do was to wait. I
was temporarily out of the oil business, and
with thirty thousand dollars in my pocket
and with Slocum at my side, I started out on
a little "painting trip," all the time harbor
ing pleasant anticipations of the greater
amount of money to come in the future,
beside of which the sum then in my posses
sion was a mere bagatelle. The "beyond"
looked rosy, and therefore Slocum and I in
our enthusiasm began to sprinkle a little red
67

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
throughout the possibly at times sober pre
cincts of Philadelphia. The money I had
received from Wickham was deposited in
the safe of the Girard House, in a private
box generously ( ?) loaned to me by the pro
prietor. Having known of several disas
trous results from depositing money in
banks, I considered this a safe place for my
wealth, as I carried the key. I never de
posited any money in a bank in Philadel
phia, reports to the contrary, notwithstand
ing. As my transaction with Wickham occur
red at the Girard House, it became known
through generous advertising. On account
of my youthful appearance I was stared at
with a good deal of curiosity as the lucky
possessor of millions, and I held regular re
ceptions for those whose bank accounts were
in a chronic or temporary state of depres
sion. Chances came to me to purchase all
kinds of property, to invest in all kinds of
schemes, perpetual motion, and the like, and
everyone seemed willing to unload upon me
every "flash" company in creation, some of
them doubtless gotten up for my especial
benefit; some of them so transparently
68

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
crooked that I could see through them even
when I was in a condition that would not
have permitted me to walk a rope across
Niagara. But I brushed all these offers to
one side, and reached a conclusion to spend
my money as best suited my taste and in
clination. It was at this time that I performed one
of the greatest strokes of business of my
career. It will give the reader of these
pages an idea of the kind of a Napoleon of
flnance I was, and therefore I mention it.
Possibly Jay Gould might have done better
in his palmy days, but I doubt it. The
stroke was this : I gave to Slocum a power-
of-attorney so comprehensive and generous,
that he could handle all my money, draw up
on my "bank" account, and run bills in my
name. I will do him credit by saying that,
to the best of my knowledge, he never failed
to carry out every one of the conditions of
that power-of-attorney to the fullest extent.
He exhibited the most untiring industry in
that direction, and I could have given him a
letter of recommendation to that effect at
any time. He always spent money when he
had it to spend, or when he did not, and be-
69

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
came expert in disposing of promises with
great facility.
Slocum had an idea that in order to do
things right, we should make the proper
kind of a start. He argued that to see a
couple of young millionaires walking
around in ordinary clothing had a depress
ing effect on the spectators, and that we
should have something more striking, and
that better befitted our station in life.
Under his guidance we went to a tailor
shop. We looked at the different patterns
and grades of cloth presented for our in
spection, some of which I thought pretty
good, and I saw a number of patterns that
would have suited me. But Slocum had his
ideas up that day. After showing almost
everything in the store, the tailor finally
came to a piece of goods of a style that I
considered would have looked well in a
horse blanket for a blind horse. I thought,
and do yet, that the tailor pulled out that
piece of goods by mistake, or else showed it
to us in order to scare us out of the store.
But the pattern caught Socum's eye, and
he gave an order for two suits to be made
from it, one for him and one for myself, to
70

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
be constructed exactly alike. I told him
that if we went out with a pattern like that
we would be arrested for disturbing the
peace of the city. But my partner was in
sistent, and the goods were purchased.
I shall never forget the pleasant after
noon when we sallied forth in our newly
constructed suits. In addition we sported
"stove-pipe" hats, carried gold-headed
canes, and wore diamond pins in our neck
ties. Surely Solomon in all his glory was
not fixed up like either one of us. As we
stepped out on the street Slocum was smil
ing and confident, while I was trembling
and afraid. The street seemed to take on a
new appearance when we struck it, as peo
ple all turned and looked back, or followed
us, and soon most all the traffic was going
our way. On the corner of the street, a block
or two above the hotel, a policeman was
standing or was doing so until he saw us.
Then he came towards us, and stopped in
front of us, and when he informed us that
we would have to go to the police station
with him I was temporarily paralyzed. As
soon as I could regain my equilibrium suf
ficiently to talk, my first words were to Slo-
71

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
cum, and I reminded him of what I had
said, that if we appeared in that dog-gasted
attire some dod-gasted cop would run us in.
Slocum said nothing, but all the way to the
police station he looked as crestfallen as a
boy who has been discovered in the act of
stealing jam. We were two surprised look
ing lambs as we stood facing the judge.
"Where did you get these fellows, offi
cer?" inquired that personage.
"Share, I picked 'em up down the strate,"
replied the minion of the law.
"What's the charge?"
"Bounty jumpin', yer Honor."
"Did anyone tell you to arrest them?"
"No, sir; I arrested them on their
looks, and if them burruds aint bounty-
jumpers what be they?"
We assured the magistrate that we were
two innocent young men from the oil re
gions, who had been in town but a short
time, and had never received any bounty to
jump; that while we did not exactly know
what kind of a bird a bounty-jumper was,
no doubt the policeman had selected us
because of our plumage ; and if we could be
72

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
let off we would never do it again, whatever
it was that we had done.
The judge took in the humor of the situa
tion and discharged us. I "cussed" Slocum
all the way to his room, and when we got
there made him change his clothes. Then we
ordered up drinks, celebrated our escape
from the clutches of the law, and closed the
wide chasm of disagreement.

73

CHAPTER VII.
As I have stated, the transaction with
Wickham occurred at the Girard House,
and it attracted much attention. Rumor
followed rumor as to the amount involved,
and it soon became an accepted belief that I
had received a fortune amounting at least
to a million of dollars. As a consequence,
my credit became unbounded, as did the no
toriety which arose out of the affair. I be
came the cynosure of a thousand curious
eyes as the formerly poor boy who had sud
denly become possessed of riches which a
prince might envy; and I started on a
course of living which can be accurately de
scribed as "fast." Many foolish things were
attributed to me, of course, of which I was
never guilty, but I was at best leading a life
which rendered many of the untrue sur
mises justifiable. Many of Slocum's esca
pades were charged to my account, but we
were so much together that this could not
be considered strange, and certainly his
foolish actions were backed up by my money
75

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and credit. Therefore I cannot wholly
blame those faraway critics who, through
the magnifying of rumors, attributed out
landish actions to me as a spendthrift "oil
prince" of mushroom growth. The flattery
of pretended friends and the misrepresenta
tions of the newspaper press, were not ob
jected to by me so strenuously as in later
years. In a kind of a way I enjoyed the "jol
lying" extended to me even by those who
were engaged upon a "leg-pulling" expedi
tion. In the dazzle and glitter which sur
rounded us Slocum fairly swam, and acted
like a man who had been accustomed to
such things all his life, conducted himself
like a spoiled and pampered son of riches,
and spent my money as freely as anyone
could have spent it. The finest of clothes
adorned our persons, diamond pins spark
led from our neckties, diamond rings glit
tered on our fingers, expensive gold chains
encircled our necks and were attached to
the most expensive gold watches. Similar
articles were bestowed upon our friends.
But these were mostly presented by Slocum,
whose generosity was not even bounded by
the size of my money roll.
76

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Other misguided beings from the oil re
gions of Pennsylvania were scattered about
the country doing foolish things, and many
of their performances were afterwards cred
ited to me. But as I had played the fool in
so many directions, it was not strange that
this was so, as possibly I was the "king-bee"
of the oil region spendthrifts. I was not
considered an "absorber" of wealth, but a
"distributor," in the language of recent
financial arguments. I sized up pretty well
with the best, but have never been guilty of
one-quarter of the foolish transactions that
have been charged to my account; in fact,
could not have mixed up in so many all at
once. However, as it was, I did fairly well.
While the original role of "Coal-Oil John
ny" was played by me, to have acted it in all
the comedies, and possibly tragedies, in
which that was the star part, would have re-
required me to project myself into a
dozen or more places at the same
time. It may be as well to state that
at this writing I am alive, in spite of
the fact that I have been killed several
times. While I circulated at a pretty lively
gait, and largely in my own particular or-
77

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
bit, still I was only one. My nickname
seemed to have been catching, and was con
jured with by writers whose fanciful imag
inations overbalanced their regard for
facts. But the ball was set rolling, and it
gathered all kinds of "Coal-Oil Johnny"
moss. The first time I ever heard the name was
one day in Philadelphia, and it was applied
to me by a dirty-faced street gamin, who
possibly never realized for how much he has
been responsible. Three friends and myself
were being driven back from the races to
our hotel. Not having had a drink since we
left the track, we were overtaken by a
consuming thirst, and were urging the
driver to do his best to get us to the hotel in
order to save our lives. The rapid beat of
the hoofs upon the pavement, and the rattle
of the carriage, attracted the attention of
those unfortunate ones who were compelled
to walk. Seeing our carriage fllled with
four sporty-looking individuals, wearing
high hats and diamond-bedecked apparel, it
was but natural that someone's curiosity
should be aroused to the extent of asking
who we were. Turning a corner slowly, 1
78

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK._ (79)
heard someone ask, "Isn't that the coal-oil
crowd?" and an insignificant urchin piped
up, "Yep, that's Coal-Oil Johnny and his
gang." The other occupants of our carriage
also caught the remark. It seemed to please
them, for they adopted it there and then,
and fastened the term upon me for good. In
this way was started a name that has stuck
to me closer than a brother, and was des
tined to be bandied about wherever the En
glish language was spoken.
Outside of our personal appearance on
this occasion of my christening, doubtless
our carriage attracted attention, and in
planning the vehicle, Slocum and I deter
mined that it should. In the first place we
felt the great need of a carriage of some
kind, for, on many accounts, it was not al
ways convenient to walk. On concluding to
have one of our own, we resolved it should
possess some distinctive feature that would
mark it from the usual run of stylish turn
out, and compel people to recognize it at a
glance as our own particular property.
I had read that somewhere it was the cus
tom of people to display a coat-of-arms to
mark the distinguishing achievements and
occupations of their family. Therefore, I

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
concluded to try something of this kind my
self. My idea was not so much to boast of
any achievements of former generations as
to show off my own business and attain
ments. So Slocum and I put our heads to
gether and decided the best thing in this
line to be done was to have painted on the
doors of our vehicle the picture of an oil der
rick, an oil tank, and a flowing well. We
found a painter who knew how to mix col
ors and put in the proper amount of red.
The carriage had cost me sixteen hundred
dollars. We had been painting everything
else red, and we did not wish to take any
chances with sober colors. The artist
adorned the doors to our liking. When we
saw the result of his work we could hardly
wait for the paint to dry. But finally when,
with our new team of horses, we were at
last driven forth, with instructions given to
the driver to "go slow," the sensation creat
ed was only equalled by our gratification
that we had made the hit of the hour. The
only experience we had had which equalled
it was when we appeared in those flashy
suits. But this time we escaped arrest.
How it happened we never knew. In our
80

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
new outfit we shone for all there was in it,
and we did not care who knew it, as we were
prouder of that carriage and its coat-of-
arms than Barnum ever was of a carload
of monkeys. I felt better than any old king
ever did in his chariot. The only regret was
that the folks up home could not see me, and
I wished that some of the boys from the oil
regions could come down so that I could
give them a ride. In my time I have seen
many carriages, but, to my mind they were
all commonplace in comparison with the one
owned by me. It was the only one of the
kind, when the coat-of-arms was included,
in the Quaker City at that time. It has
never been duplicated, and I do not know
how it could be.
We hired a man to care for our horses
and our carriage for a stated amount, I for
get the sum; but it was large enough, no
doubt. The driver was a willing fellow, at
any rate, and devoted himself entirely to us
and our interests; and we often felt sore
need of that devotion. His working hours
were irregular, but mainly during the night
and 'way along in the A. M.s. He knew how
to handle men as well as horses, for he was
8i

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
often compelled to handle us, and his re
sponsibility often became great along to
ward the wee small hours. Our carriage
was a familiar sight "down the line," and
wherever it was, it was a safe guess that we
were in it, or, at least, not far away.

82

CHAPTER VIII.
Given an inexperienced young fellow
with a good-sized bank account, a willing
and earnest desire to see the world, and in
clude in this combination a thirst for
liquor, and fasten on to this same fellow
companions who are consumed with a de
sire to further his ambitions along the lines
indicated, and you have a result that has
thrown many an older head than I had at
that time off the track. So, of course, I did
many foolish things, some of which I look
back to to-day with regret, and I presume
I performed many outlandish tricks which
I do not now remember, because of their
being acted at times when John Barleycorn
held me in an "extra loving grip."
I do recall distinctly, however, that one
of our principal amusements was theatre-
going. The play-house possessed attrac
tions which I never could resist, and I be
came very familiar with life therein. It
was to me a new world, and naturally pos
sessed attractions for one who never until
83

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
going to the city had seen anything more
pretentious than a district school exhibi
tion or a "Punch and Judy" show.
I was to be found many nights with my
friends occupying a box at Fox's Casino, a
famous resort of its kind, conducted on
Bohemian principles, where a man was not
obliged to crawl over a crowd to
procure liquid refreshments, and where
we could enjoy our fragrant Havanas
while we sat and watched the gyra
tions of the ballet girls. Of course,
such a resort appealed strongly to our tem
peraments and we frequented it more than
any of the others then to be found in Phila
delphia. Carncross & Dixie's Minstrels had quite
a run in Philadelphia at this time, and I al
ways enjoyed listening to the comical say
ings of Dixie and Simmons, spurred on by
Carncross, one of the flnest of interlocutors.
I became well acquainted with Dixie, who
associated somewhat with our crowd, and I
recall him as a jolly, good-natured, little fel
low, and a great favorite with everyone.
But of this aggregation I came to know Lew
Simmons best of all, and liked him for his
84

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
unceasing jollity, exhibited in private as
well as in public. The memory of my friend
ship with him is more closely treasured by
me than any which I formed during this
giddy and delirious period.
One of our favorite means of recreation
during the daytime was a drive in our fa
mous carriage through Fairmount Park,
where we vied in conspicuousness with the
elite of the city; in fact, attracted more at
tention than the most of them. Our faces
were familiar at many of the road-houses sur
rounding Philadelphia at that time, where
we distributed liberal patronage. Gener
ally after these drives we would wind up at
the Girard House in the evening in a "high
ly-seasoned" condition. Naturally, at this
time memory of places and dates is some
what dimmed, and would be, even if I had at
that time kept my vision entirely clear, but
as it was considerably blurred by alcoholic
methods, it is not surprising that I do not
retain anything more than a faint recollec
tion, extending in many instances not be
yond the fact that I recall that Philadelphia
was on the map, and I was mixed up in it
somewhere. 85

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I have often regretted that I did not keep
a record of places, occurrences, and dates,
but the thought never entered my mind that
I was making any kind of history, and, any
way, I was too busy to attend to it. Never
did I for a moment realize that I was
achieving a notoriety that some day would
be widespread, and that my name would be
one to be conjured with by special writers
and paragraphers for a generation. But
one of my chief regrets at overlooking the
importance of such a record is that I have
forgotten the name of the house and its pro
prietor where the specialty on the bill of
fare was the prosaic-sounding dish of "cat-
flsh and waflles." I recall that it was a
road-house somewhere in the vicinity of
Philadelphia, and on an average of once a
week we would visit it and regale our appe
tites with these delectable viands. It is
providential that time dims the vision to
many things of the past, but to-day I would
thank my stars if I could publicly pay trib
ute to the name of the man who served cat
fish and wafSes as the leading feature of his
bill of fare. I ate of them until I broke out
with a rash, gorged myself near to bursting,
86

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and never grew tired of the diet. Syrup I
had long ago given the "go-by" and I did not
regain my youthful liking for it, but I
never grew weary of the fish and waffle mix
ture. These feasts stand out in glaring
spots on the memory of that hazy and delir
ious period. The catfish is the most delic
ious morsel that swims our waters, not much
to look at, perhaps, but in the hands of the
caterer he becomes a thing of beauty and a
joy forever.
A Philadelphian who attached himself to
our crowd at this time, through an acquaint
anceship he had formed with Slocum, was
George Brotherton, who besides being one of
the handsomest and most stylishly dressed
men I had ever known, was an expert and
nervy wooer of fortune with cards. In fact,
he was an adept at every game of chance
played in America at that day. Possessing
a pleasing manner and the bearing of a gen
tleman, I became attracted to him and liked
him first rate. In every sense of the word
he was a better fellow than Slocum and filled
with more manly instincts, in spite of the
calling to which he claimed allegiance. It
takes a bright man to become even a fairly
87

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
successful gambler, and Brotherton had a
knowledge of men and the ways of the world
which would have brought him success in
life had he chosen a legitimate occupation.
He was a partner, although largely a silent
one, in an all-night saloon in Philadelphia
which drove a thriving trade in wet goods,
and to which place we often resorted to
slake our ever-recurring thirst, especially
when our finances became temporarily de
pressed, for there our names would accom
modatingly be written down "upon the
slate." Brotherton made a great deal of
money by gambling, but spent it just as
freely, and as a result of such a condition
was often in a state of financial collapse.
Consequently he knew how to sympathize
with others who would occasionally "go
broke" and come to their assistance when in
his power so to do.
I recall that at one time as I was walk
ing with him along the street, he mentioned
the fact that there was a first-rate faro game
being dealt in rooms near by, and he con
fided to me that he felt an inward "hunch"
that he could play to win, but that, unfor
tunately, he was temporarily out of funds.
88

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
At that particular moment I was in straits
for the long green myself, but glanc
ing across the street and seeing a
pawn shop, I went over and put up
my gold watch for twenty dollars, the
amount Brotherton said he needed.
I handed the money to him, and together we
went to the rooms, he to play and I to watch
the game. Fortune did not smile upon the
player until he was reduced to the last dol
lar of the twenty; but with that dollar the
"hunch" seemed to get in its work, for
Brotherton called the last turn on the deal,
and received four for one. He then began
to win steadily, more rapidly than he had
lost, and in half an hour from the turning
point he quit the game a thousand dollars to
the good. The watch was relieved from its
imprisonment, restored to my pocket, and
we went out to spend the winnings, which
we succeeded in doing in the most approved
style. The loud, rowdy, and spendthrift ways of
my erstwhile self-appointed guardian and
authorized agent were well known, and,
coupled with outlandish reports of great
wealth which had come to me, jewelers, tail-
89

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ors, and other dealers, were led to send in
bills many times larger than they actually
should have been, and once seeing them paid
without protest the next time would add a
little more commission. In this manner
much money was foolishly paid out, which,
had I used ordinary business caution, and
placed less faith in Slocum, would have been
saved. Ours was a riotous, feverish life, with
scarcely a sober moment, and to a large ex
tent we knew not what we did, nor did we
seem to care. The fool-killer favored us by
remaining religiously away at this particu
lar period, and diamonds bedecked the per
sons of those who would not have been so
favored had we not been allowed to live.
No one was allowed by Slocum to ap
proach me whom he thought could possibly
render such advice as would imperil the
good time he was having at my expense. No
one borrowed money from me at this time
unless it happened to be a friend of his ; and
the crowd which surrounded me consisted
largely of actors, men about town, so-called,
gamblers, and young fellows whose only oc
cupation seemed to be to spend the money
90

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
left them by some saving and economical
ancestor. There were also adventurers
hanging around, who looked upon me at all
times as a lamb well worth shearing. Every
one who stopped at the Girard House tried
to get a glimpse of me, and, it sometimes
seemed, a slice of my roll, and I was pointed
out to the curious as the "oil prince" who
was creating the sensation of the hour in his
own peculiar way. At first I shrank from
this curiosity but afterwards got so I did not
care, and with a cigar in my mouth, with
diamonds sparkling on my shirt front and
on my fingers, I would march up and down
the corridors, the cynosure of admiring
glances. The "help" of the hotel would jump
at my word, for I was always lavish with my
tips for the most trivial service. Therefore,
by outward appearance, at least, I fully jus
tified many of the inferences drawn of me at
that time. Never had I known before what
it was to be surrounded by a crowd of flat
terers and I was not sufficiently acute to de
tect the reason or to pick out the syco
phants. Consequently I was placed upon a
pedestal and worshipped for "what there
was in it," and in return for flattering
91

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
praises spent my money freely upon my ad
mirers. As I have stated, I drank a great deal.
Whiskey more strongly appealed to my ap
petite than any other liquor, and finding
this appetite harder to appease as time went
on, I contributed largely towards the reve
nues of the government. Money went freely
through my hands, still more freely through
Slocum's and, in that brief six months of de
lirium in Philadelphia and other cities, I
lived longer than in all the balance of my
time on earth.
Occasionally some old friend from the oil
country would visit me, when I would con
sider it my bounden duty to extend to him
the kind of hospitality for which I was be
coming celebrated. What such a one told
when he got home I do not know, but if he
told the truth, tales were related at oil coun
try firesides such as were never listened to
before.

92

CHAPTER IX.
What is the gait of Philadelphia to-day
among the class of people with whom we as
sociated I do not know, but at that time they
stayed out later at night and traveled swift
er than the Quakers, and their manners were
such as would have black-balled them for
admission into the Society of Friends. The
city, as were many other cities at that time,
was filled with strangers owing to the great
war then being waged. Palaces of sin were
in full blast and in many quarters the clink
ing of glasses, the maudlin songs, the shrieks
of siren and masculine laughter could be
heard throughout the night.
Gambling resorts were numerous, where
unwary lambs were parted from their fleece ;
but I did not part with mine by this method.
Certain writers have stated that I lost
thousands of dollars by the turn of a card,
while the truth is I never played for money
in my life. However, my chances for doing
so were unlimited; I consorted with gamb
lers to some extent, and frequented gamb-
93

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ling rooms; but while urgent invitations
were extended to me to woo fickle fortune in
this manner, I refused to do so, arguing that
I preferred to spend my money in a way
which would be more productive of enjoy
ment to a man of my tastes. I have often
regretted that my refusal did not extend to
other invitations the acceptance of which
proved detrimental and contributed to my
final undoing.
At one time I went into the Continental
Hotel in Philadelphia and asked a question
of the clerk, to which he returned an uncivil
answer. This displeased me, and I filed a
protest with the proprietor, who did not give
me the satisfaction I sought. Being some
what nettled thereat, I ventured the opinion
that "he did not know a d  d thing about
running a hotel." He replied that possibly
I knew more than he did about it and that
I could offer him suggestions that would re
lieve his guests from the results of his mis
management. I told him I thought I could,
and this encouraged me to further ask how
much he would charge me to take the "old
ranch" off his hands for a day and run it as
it should be run. Evidently thinking I was
94

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
throwing out a large-sized bluff, he replied,
"Two thousand dollars." Reaching into my
pocket I pulled out my roll, counted out the
amount, and threw it down on the desk, and
told him to consider the old "shebang" as
mine until noon of the next day. He wanted
to back out but I protested, and he finally
withdrew and left the field to me. My first
move was to discharge the offensive clerk,
and I put into his place one of my friends.
I placed others over various departments,
and issued a general order to the effect that
everything should be run wide open for
twenty- four hours; that every delicacy the
market afforded should be placed upon the
table, regardless of expense, and my direc
tions were explicit that champagne, or what
ever else the bar afforded, should be fur
nished free to the guests who dined with
us. Every other hotel in Philadelphia was
thrown into a condition of temporary de
pression, which would have meant suspen
sion had my plan continued indefinitely. I
rewarded each of the servants with twenty-
five dollars, in advance, and asked for their
hearty co-operation and it was heartily
given. My friends, their friends, and all of
95

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
our friends' friends pressed in upon me, and
as landlord I welcomed them with all the
cordiality and dignity I could muster. The
women of the "tenderloin," hearing that I
was running the hotel, crowded in, and soon
the building was resounding to shouts of
revelry. The Brussels carpets were soaked
with champagne, long and gaudy stockings
adorned the chandeliers, while their owners
danced on the marble-topped tables of the
parlors surrounded by a drunken mob, or
sat on the window sills and shrieked to the
people who thronged the streets below.
Guests who were drunken beyond the
realms of consciousness were strewn about
the floors, their features looking extremely
grewsome in the light of the chandeliers.
The devil ran riot throughout that palace of
sin, and orgies were enacted which ap
proached those of Belshazzar's feast. It was
a grand, whirling, awful time; too wicked
to be believed.
And yet there were thousands of people
who believed it, although it never happened.
I have tried to condense all that has been
said by various writers who have attributed
this occurrence to me. I give it as a sort of
96

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
tribute to the great American imagination,
and as showing to what extent some people
will go when wielding an unbridled pen.
Some day I want to erect a monument to the
man who concocted that story. If I catch
him alive, he will need something to mark
his resting place.
Of course there was never such an occur
rence. I never bought a hotel for a day,
minute or second. I never stayed in the
Continental Hotel but one night, and no
such scene ever occurred in Philadelphia
during my sojourn there. However, it might
be stated that I spent enough money at the
Girard House, or was charged with having
spent enough, to have purchased a control
ling interest in a first-class hotel. When
leaving there the proprietor presented me
with a bill for myself and Slocum, of
|19,000. Considering the fact that I paid
him large amounts at various times, I nat
urally wondered how it could be so large.
Yet, assuming it to be correct, I figured that
our bill at this one house alone for the six
months in Philadelphia exceeded $25,000.
This speaks louder of our career in the
Quaker City than anything else I can men
tion. (57)

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
The only "time" I ever had at the Conti
nental was in that part reserved for the dis
pensing of liquid refreshments. As has been
noticed by everyone, intoxication develops
strange characteristics in individuals. A
surly man will be changed into the most
genial soul in the world, while a man who in
sober life is the incarnation of geniality will
be converted into the most offensive bellig-
erant, and want to fight everybody he meets.
Some, with no music in their souls, will
break out in song and the clumsiest will in
sist on tripping the "light fantastic toe."
When I reached a certain stage, my nature
took on the hat-smashing mania, and I tried
or wanted to smash every high hat that came
to my notice. One night I was with a party
of friends in the Continental bar. It hap
pened that we all wore high hats, and it also
happened that, while we were drinking and
swearing eternal fealty, my mania asserted
itself. Seizing a cane, I rapped the hat of
the fellow next to me down over his eyes.
This seemed so funny that I jammed the hat
of another fellow so hard that it completely
covered his face, and he was pulled out with
considerable trouble. By this time all of the
98

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
crowd entered into the spirit of the thing.
One of them struck at my hat, and, thinking
to fool him, I removed it just in time to
catch his cane on my head in the most em
phatic manner. For some reason or other
the crowd seemed to think the joke was on
me. When we had finished we possessed a
collection of the most dilapidated-looking
"dicers" ever seen, and resembled a group
of shabby genteel wrecks. But we stayed
in the bar until it was reported dry. The
next day I purchased a new $8.00 hat for
each one of the crowd. The foregoing esca
pade, of course, attracted attention and pos
sibly from it originated the Ananias story
of the purchase of the hotel. I only pur
chased the liquor. It reminds me of the
little line reading
"Tall aches from little toe-corns grow."

99

CHAPTER X.
So many demands were made upon me for
loans of money from all sections of the coun
try, both personally and by mail, that I soon
became hardened to them, and refused all
applicants point blank, except in the case of
a few personal friends who sought tempor
ary loans. To the latter I always responded
favorably when I could, but in many in
stances found my confidence misplaced. To
have responded to all my mail would have
required a large force of clerks. When any
one came in person for a loan I listened to
their tale of woe, and acted according to the
best judgment I happened to have with me
at the time.
Among those who came to me with
schemes which afforded me an opportunity
to invest my money were Low Gaylord and
M. T. Skiff (the boys called him "Empty"
Skiff), minstrel men, who had been con
ducting an organization under the title of
Skiff and Gaylord's Minstrels, and which,
after running through a season of hard luck,
ioi

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
had become stranded. They were filled with
a desire to get once again upon their feet,
and therefore the appeal to me for financial
assistance. To one who viewed the stage with the lik
ing I did, the proposition made by them
proved attractive and appealed to me strong
ly. Consequently Slocum and I agreed to
take a half interest, but as the former had
no money which was not mine, half of the
show really belonged to me. Skiff and Gay
lord owned the costumes and much other
material that goes with a burnt-cork aggre
gation, but money was required to re-or
ganize and rehearse a company, and to put
out new advertising. With the money I
furnished wood cuts were purchased and
bills printed which set forth in glaring let
ters and in fiattering terms the merits of the
show. One of the large posters had a pic
ture of Slocum and myself in the upper left
and right hand corners, respectively, while
in the lower corners appeared the pictures
of Skiff and Gaylord.
The company was soon organized, placed
in rehearsal, the advance agent started out
upon the road, and the show moved up into
I02

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
New Jersey to win shekles and gather up a
bunch of fame.
It was a good show, as many who saw it
at the time will testify. Skiff was interlo
cutor, while Gaylord played the bones and
Hughey Dougherty the tambo. At the pres
ent time I do not recall the names of all the
performers who, including the band, num
bered about twenty people, but among the
crowd were Delehanty and Ward, a fine
double clog team, and Joe Maires, the best
female impersonator I ever saw. The leader
of the band was a little Dutchman by the
name of Buckholz, who was certainly an
artist. But the great fun maker of the ag
gregation was Dougherty, who in his time
has made thousands of people laugh at his
original and irresistible humor. At this
time he was a young man, just rising in his
calling. He took to the business like a duck
to water; and his constant comicalities off
the stage were as amusing as those he
sprung behind the footlights. His fun was
of that spontaneous kind which made him
appear to do and say the right thing at the
right time, and he was very apt at hitting
off popular fads and follies as they ap-
I03

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
peared. He was a good dancer, and one
night, feeling in a particular happy condi
tion, he danced for thirty-five minutes, until
he was dripping with perspiration and the
orchestra had become exhausted. Whenever
the musicians would show any inclination
to stop, he would spur them on. The audi
ence became uproarious and urged the con
testants to further efforts. Another of
Dougherty's acts was a stump speech, the
delivery of which always convulsed the
hearers. He appeared dressed in the bur
lesque style of an old fashioned colored
preacher, wearing a high hat of ancient
mintage, a long coat, and carrying a large
umbrella. Each night the speech would be
varied to suit local conditions or national
happenings and was as much enjoyed by his
colleagues as by the audience. Walking up
to the table in the centre of the stage, he
would place his hat upon it, and as he pro
ceeded with his remarks he would gradually
work himself up to a feigned state of in
tense earnestness and excitement. Then he
would raise his umbrella ostensibly to bring
it down upon the table to emphasize his re
marks, and miss the table, which mis-
104

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
calculation would appear to throw him
off his balance, and compel him to
turn a complete somersault in order
to regain his equilibrium. Excusing himself
to the audience for this undignified action,
he would proceed with his remarks,
slowly at first, and then gradually work
himself up to another pitch of excitement,
when he would bring his umbrella down
upon his hat with a violence sufficient to
smash it flat. Picking it up he would look
at the wreck so ludicrously that his audi
ence would shriek with laughter; and, al
though I saw him do this many times, it al
ways drew a smile from me. Dougherty cer
tainly was one of the smartest men in the
business, and when I saw him last he was
still maintaining his reputation for jollity,
although then an old man.
Slocum and I did not appear in the per
formance, but confined our duties to the
taking and selling of tickets, and marching
with our partners at the head of the daily
parade. As I marched to the stirring notes
of the band, dressed in the regulation high
hat, long coat, and carrying a cane, while
diamonds sparkled upon my necktie and
105

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
upon my fingers, for the time being I was
oblivious of everything else, and secretly
thought I was one of the great moguls of the
earth, whom ordinary mortals would be
more than pleased to fall down and worship.
The aggregation started from the Quaker
City in good style and spirits, and played up
through New Jersey to good houses. Slo
cum and I stayed with them for a week,
showed them a good time whenever oppor
tunity presented, and opportunities were
plentiful. It was a howling, whirling week.
Our ordinary expenses were paid out of the
funds which came from the treasury, and
this was the only financial benefit we ever
received from the venture. The extraordin
ary expenses, a much larger sum, I paid my
self, and thought all the while I was having
a jolly good time. However, we did not
drink champagne, some accounts to the con
trary, notwithstanding. I began my "spirit
ual" education on whiskey, and when one
becomes thoroughly addicted to that habit,
every other drink seems mild and tame in
comparison. So while the merry minstrel men went
their happy way, my partner and myself be-
io6

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
sought once more the quiet precincts of
Philadelphia, and the haunts which had
known us so long, for better and for worse,
did business with us again. We took up the
old ways without the slightest hesitation,
picked up where we had left off, and con
tinued the little act of our own entitled, "A
fool and his money are soon parted," in
which we played star parts to large crowds.
We charged no admission, and generally
paid the crowd for coming to see us. In fact,
we ran a regular gift show, and it was a con
tinuous performance.
I give the following from "Sketches in
Crude Oil," an entertaining book on the Oil
regions written by John J. McLaurin, in
which he quotes an interview given by one
John W. Gaylord concerning me, and which
is a fair sample of some of the reports put in
circulation about my doings:
"The future candidate for minstrel gags
and newspaper space was hauling oil when
a neighbor ran to tell him of Mrs. McClin
tock's death. He hastened home. A search
of the premises disclosed two hundred thou
sand dollars the old lady had hoarded. Wm.
Blackstone, appointed his guardian, restrict-
107

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ed the minor to a reasonable allowance.
The young man's conduct was irreproach
able until he attained his majority. His in
come was enormous. Mr. Blackstone paid
him three hundred thousand dollars in a
lump, and he resolved to 'see some of the
world.' He saw it, not through smoked
glass either. His escapades supplied no end
of material for gossip. Many tales concern
ing him were exaggerated and many were
pure inventions. Demure, slow-going Phila
delphia he colored a flaming vermilion. He
gave away carriages after a single drive,
kept open house in a big hotel and squan
dered thousands of dollars a day. Seth Slo
cum was 'showing him the sights' and he
fell an easy victim to blacklegs and swind
lers. He ordered champagne by the dozen
baskets and treated theatrical companies to
the costliest wine suppers. Gay ballet girls
at Fox's old play-house told spicy stories of
these midnight frolics. To a negro comed
ian, who sang a song that pleased him, he
handed a thousand dollar pin. He would
walk the streets with bank bills stuck in the
button-holes of his coat for Young America
to grab. He courted club men and spent
io8

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
cash like the Count of Monte Cristo. John
Morrissey sat a night with him at cards in
his Saratoga gambling house, cleaning him
out of many thousands. Leeches bled him
and sharpers fleeced him unmercifully. He
was a spendthrift, but he didn't light cigars
with hundred dollar bills, buy a Philadel
phia hotel to give a chum or destroy money
'for fun.' Usually somebody beneflted by
his extravagances.
"Occasionally his prodigality assumed a
sensible phase. Twenty-eight hundred dol
lars, one day's receipts from his wells and
royalty, went toward the erection of the sol
diers' monument — a magnificent shaft of
white marble — in the Franklin park. Ex
cept Dan Rice's five thousand dollar memor
ial at Girard, Erie county, this was the first
monument in the Union to the fallen heroes
of the civil war. Ten, twenty or fifty dollars
frequently gladdened the poor who asked
for relief. He lavished fine clothes and dia
monds on a minstrel troupe, touring the
country and entertaining crowds in the oil
regions. John W. Gaylord, a famous artist
in burnt cork and member of the troupe, has
furnished these details: 109

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
" 'Yes, "Coal-Oil Johnny" was my partic
ular friend in his palmiest days. I was his
room-mate when he cut the shines that cele
brated him as the most eccentric millionaire
on earth. I was with the Skiff and Gaylord
minstrels. Johnny saw us perform in Phila
delphia, got stuck on the business and
bought one-third interest in the show. His
first move was to get five thousand dollars'
worth of woodcuts at his own expense. They
were all the way from a one-sheet to a twen
ty-four-sheet in size and the largest amount
any concern had ever owned. The cartoon,
which attracted so much attention, of "Bring
That Skiff Over Here," was in the lot. We
went on the road, did a monstrous business
everywhere, turned people away and were
prosperous. " 'Reaching Utica, N. Y., Johnnie treated
to a supper for the company, which cost one
thousand dollars. He then conceived the
idea of traveling by his own train and pur
chased an engine, a sleeper and a baggage-
car. Dates for two weeks were cancelled
and we went junketing, Johnnie footing the
bills. At Erie we had a five hundred dollar
supper; and so it went. It was here that
no

View of Oil Creek fro.m Steele Farm. I.ooking towards Rynd Farm.

COAL OIL lOHNNY-HIS BOOK.
Johnnie bought his first hack. After a short
ride he presented it to the driver. Our dates
being cancelled, Johnnie insisted upon in
demnifying us for the loss of time. He paid
all salaries, estimated the probable business
receipts upon the basis of packed houses and
paid that also to our treasurer.
" 'In Chicago he gave another exhibition
of his eccentric traits. He leased the Acad
emy of Music for the season and we did a
big business. Finally he proposed a benefit
for Skiff and Gaylord and sent over to rent
the Crosby Opera House, then the finest in
the country. The manager sent back the in
solent reply : "We won't rent our house for
an infernal nigger show." Johnnie got
warm in the collar. He went down to theii
office in Root and Cady's music store.
" ' "What will you take for your house
and sell it outright?" he asked Mr. Root.
" ' "I don't want to sell."
" ' "I'll give you a liberal price. Money is
no object."
" 'Then Johnnie pulled out a roll from his
valise, counted out two hundred thousand
dollars and asked Root if that was an object.
Mr. Root was thunderstruck. "If you are
III

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
that kind of a man you can have the house
for the benefit free of charge." The benefit
was the biggest success ever known in min
strelsy. The receipts were forty-five thou
sand dollars and more were turned away
than could be given admission. Next day
Johnnie hunted up one of the finest carriage
horses in the city and presented it to Mr.
Root for the courtesy extended.
" 'Oh, Johnnie was a prince with his
money. I have seen him spend as high as
one hundred thousand dollars in one day.
That was the time he hired the Continental
Hotel in Philadelphia and wanted to buy
the Girard House. He went to the Conti
nental and politely said to the clerk : "Will
you please tell the proprietor that J. W.
Steele wishes to see him?" "No sir," said the
clerk, "the landlord is busy." Johnnie sug
gested he could make it pay the clerk to ac
commodate the whim. The clerk became dis
dainful and Johnnie tossed a bell-boy a
twenty-dollar gold piece with the request.
The result was an interview with the land
lord. Johnnie claimed he had been ill-
treated and requested the summary dismis
sal of the clerk. The proprietor refused and
112

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Johnnie offered to buy the hotel. The man
said he could not sell, because he was not
the entire owner. A bargain was made to
lease it for one day for eight thousand dol
lars. The cash was paid over and Johnnie
installed as landlord. He made me bell-boy,
while Slocum officiated as clerk. The doors
were thrown open and every guest in the
house had his fill of wine and edibles free of
cost. A huge placard was posted in front of
the hotel: "Open house to-day; everything
free; all are welcome!" It was a merry lark.
The whole city seemed to catch on and the
house was full. When Johnnie thought he
had had fun enough he turned the hostelry
over to the landlord, who reinstated the
odious clerk. Here was a howdedo. John
nie was frantic with rage. He went over to
the Girard and tried to buy it. He arranged
Avith the proprietor to "buck" the Continen
tal by making the prices so low that every
body would come there. The Continental
did mighty little business so long as the ar
rangement lasted.
" 'The day of the hotel transaction we were
up on Arch street. A rain setting in, John
nie approached a hack in front of a fashion-
113

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
able store and tried to engage it to carry us
up to the Girard. The driver said it was im
possible, as he had a party in the store.
Johnnie tossed him a five hundred dollar
bill and the hackman said he would risk it.
When we arrived at the hotel Johnnie said :
"See here. Cabby, you're a likely fellow. How
would you like to own that rig?" The driver
thought he was joking, but Johnnie handed
him two thousand dollars. A half hour later
the delighted driver returned with the state
ment that the purchase had been effected.
Johnnie gave him a thousand more to buy a
stable and that man to-day is the wealthiest
hack-owner in Philadelphia.' "
Some of the above is true. However, I
never cancelled dates of the troupe and paid
their expenses while they were "doing
time;" I never bought or leased an opera
house in Chicago; I never si>ent one hun
dred thousand dollars in a day; I never
hired a hotel ; I never bought a carriage on
the street and gave it away after a ride
around the town. My actions were bad
enough, but, fortunately, I did miss per
forming some of the freak things which cer-
114

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
tain writers have laid to my account. How
I missed them, I do not exactly know, but
miss them I did. When reading an article
such as the above, one feels somewhat like a
man does who has fooled people to the
extent of getting his obituary into print be
fore he dies, and reads it in the newspapers.
Those of my readers who have passed
through that experience will, I am sure,
sympathize with the feelings I had when I
read such an article as the above. The writer
of the book, however, kindly corrects some of
the sentiments in the article which he pens.
It is true that I did not destroy money for
fun, but I literally threw it away, and had
what I thought was fun as a recompense.
I never made the acquaintance of the
Hon. John Morrisey, never played at cards
with a stranger, and, as I have heretofore
stated, never played for money at any time.
And I am truly grateful to this author for
denying the old statement that I used hun
dred dollar bills for cigar lighters. I believe
I did make a liberal subscription to the sol
diers' monument in the city of Franklin, Pa.
Another writer circulated the report that
I lost my Meadville property in a game of
115

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
cards with Dan Fowler. While it is true
that certain parties were instrumental in
separating me from my Crawford County
possessions, it was not accomplished by the
card method; although now I would look
back with more favor upon the transaction,
and regard it as having been more honor
able, had that way been employed instead of
the one which was used.
There were two games for which I had a
passion, namely, pin-pool and billiards. I
walked enough of miles around a billiard
table to have qualified as a favorite in a six-
day walking contest, and spent many dol
lars upon the pastime before placing myself
outside the limit of what is known as an
"easy mark." As stated, this education cost
me something before I ceased to be entirely
"it," and before I could sport around a table
and play and talk for the edification of the
crowd as well as some other fellow. All of
which leads me to observe that if you want a
dead open-and-shut index to a fellow's
character, notice his actions and listen to his
conversation and remarks while he is en
gaged in pushing the ivories over a billiard
table. He may be a fairly decent and sens-
ii6

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ible fellow in ordinary affairs, but if he has
any weak spots in his make-up, he will show
them if he thinks a crowd is watching him
while he is at play, especially if he is at all
impressed with his ability as a cue-shover.
In fact, men have been known to swear
while playing billiards who would not
swear at their wives.
Some people might consider it an honor
to have a brand of soap named after them.
But somehow or other I never liked it, es
pecially when the manufacturer issued a
pamphlet purporting to give some of my es
capades as they were represented in the
daily press. I never considered that they
were justified in libelling me even for the
purpose of exploiting a brand of soap. But
doubtless, like many other pirates, they con
sidered that I had no feelings which anyone
was bound to respect.

117

CHAPTER XI.
While my partner and myself clung
closely to our adopted city of Phila
delphia, we frequently varied our life
by a trip to adjoining towns. The
cities of AVashington, Baltimore, Cleve
land and New York and many others, were
favored financially by visits from us, for in
each of these places we strove to part from
some of our "unearned increment." But we
never stayed for any great length of time
away from our Quaker City haunts. In that
place we had our friends, such as they were,
and the people having become accustomed
to our "rough and rowdy ways," did not
gaze at us with the curiosity that met us at
other places. Another evidence of fame that
came to me at this time was a letter from a
circus man, in which he held out glittering
inducements to me to travel with his com
bination and exhibit myself as a sort of
freak. I treated the offer, however, with all
the scorn I could muster, and informed him
that I was engaged in running a little show
119

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
of my own, which, in certain ways, at least,
was a complete and howling success. I had
no desire to sit by the side of the fat lady or
the tattooed man and be pointed out as the
untamed rooster from the oil regions.
When Slocum and myself had carried out
most of the foolish ideas which we had been
able to con jure up, we cudgeled our brain for
something new. We did not want to feel
stale. Therefore in one of our fits of idiocy
we decided that two young men of our ten
dencies should branch out into the horse-
racing business. Slocum was the first to
broach the idea, and I was so much elated
over it that I invited him to a continuous
performance at the bar. We decided that no
"common scrub" would suffice for us; we
must have a horse that would make all
others resemble "thirty cents" as he would
trot down the home stretch ; an animal that
would make his owners famous wherever the
trotting horse was known. And the race
track, which had heretofore only recognized
us as gay and festive spectators, should now
look upon us as important factors in the rac
ing annals of the country.
Therefore I started out to find an animal
1 20

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
that would answer our expectations. As
soon as people found out what I was after, I
was offered all kinds of bargains in the
horse line, in the shape of "comers," "was-
ers," et cetera, but I informed every one that
I was looking for an "iser." As I was in a
condition that would as likely lead me to
buy a saw-horse as a sure enough equine of
flesh and blood, I was liable to be misled;
but at last I found a horse that seemed to
please my fancy. It had always been a sort
of belief of mine that I could tell by looking
at a horse's ears the kind of a disposition he
possessed. But I must say that this animal
upset all my notions of horse physiogomy
completely. He had a sort of melting look
which seemed to imply plainly that he
would do his best under all circumstances,
in fact an animal that one could tie to. I
afterwards found that this was true to the
extent that anything that horse was tied to
was perfectly safe. His was not a disturb
ing disposition. He was guaranteed sound
of limb and wind, and this was true. He
certainly had all the wind capacity which
his speed called for.
We purchased him and placed him in the
121

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
hands of a trainer out at the track, to whom
we afterwards referred as "our trainer,"
and grew an inch every time we did so. The
horse was a pacer, but I have forgotten his
name. I started out deliberately to do so
after the first race.
Having placed him in the hands of "our
trainer," Slocum and I visited the track at
Point Breeze almost every day to see him
"go." We were all wrapped up in him. All
by himself he could go, or seemed to go, fast
er than any horse we had ever seen. There
fore we entered him in races and lived in
great anticipation of the events. In our
minds we could see him come thundering
down the track and covering us with fame
and his driver with mud at one and the
same time. However, it came to pass that
the horse could go fast enough by himself,
but in the company of others he developed
a shrinking disposition — shirking, Slocum
called it. With other animals around, he
appeared exclusive and backward — way
backward. He would retire within himself
when most was expected of him. If the
driver had been aware of this, he kept it to
himself. From his standpoint it would
122

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
have been poor finance for him to have given
it away.
On the evening preceding the race we went
out to take a final look at our pet ; saw to it
that he was properly blanketed and band
aged ; and we drove home with pleasant an
ticipations for the morrow. Our driver was
confident, the horse seemed so, and conse
quently so were we. We returned to the
city, toasted the horse for several hours and
retired to dream horse dreams.
On the afternoon of the race, Slocum
drove one of the horses which we owned, to
a road wagon, and I hitched the other one
of the team to a sulky. I must have created
a sensation. To see a fellow wearing a high
hat, sitting on a sulky, smoking a cigar, and
driving along the street, must have been an
edifying spectacle to those who witnessed
it, a sort of reminder of the eternal fitness
of things. But I wanted to appear sporty
that day, and I was not at all disappointed
with myself.
There was a large crowd at the track, and
Slocum and I congratulated ourselves that
so many had come out to see our horse. Slo
cum at first, in his enthusiasm, suggested
123

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
that we treat the whole crowd, but I flnally
compromised with him by asking him to
take a drink with me. Our driver told us
that he was confident the horse would make
a record for himself ; and he certainly did.
The time for "our race" arrived finally.
As certain horses would appear, they would
be cheered by their admirers. When our pet
trotted out, or paced out, the crowd seemed
stunned, for no sound was heard except the
hip-hooray emitted by Slocum and myself,
at which some of the crowd started and
others laughed. I did not know why then.
But soon they were off, with our horse
right up in the bunch as far as the quarter
pole, at which place he seemed to withdraw
from the bunch, or, possibly more properly
speaking, the bunch left him. His old ex
clusive habit overcame him, and he showed
his preference for going along by himself in
stead of in the company of third-raters. It
would have pleased us better, however, if he
had withdrawn from the bunch the other
way, and gone ahead of it. But what could
one expect, anyway, from a strong-minded
horse with such an individuality as he had.
The more the driver urged, the haughtier he
124

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
became, and, the truth is, he was hustling to
get inside the distance flag just as the band
was getting ready to play "Hail to the
Chief" or something else in honor of a third-
rater that was about to push his nose under
the wire. My partner and I respecting the
disposition shown by our horse, never en
tered him in another race.
Driving home from the races in those days
was a thrilling and dangerous event, a sort
of free-for-all contest between all kinds of
horses, attached to all sorts of vehicles, and
driven by all sorts of drivers, all spurred by
an ambition to get ahead even if they had to
run their animals. Feeling somewhat dis
appointed with my track experience and
somewhat exhilirated by the liquid consola
tion which I had absorbed, I resolved to beat
that crowd up the road or die in the attempt.
My horse seemed to catch my spirit, and for
a time our efforts seemed crowned with suc
cess, but just at that time my sulky collided
with another vehicle, and my expectations
and myself took a drop. When I came to
my senses a few moments later I was lying
in the gutter, with my vision cast skyward,
with the skin shy from one side of my face,
125

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and the horse and sulky missing. Also on ris
ing I discovered that my left leg had become
slightly warped, although I soon got
it straightened out to its accustomed length.
A leg that had been pulled as mine had
could not, in the nature of things, stay
warped very long by a little thing like a col
lision. I also dared to hope that someone
had stolen the horse, for in that brief after
noon I had become disgusted with the whole
equine family.
Gathering myself together I boarded a
street car, and set the passengers in conster
nation by my appearance. My stovepipe hat
resembled an accordeon, and I resembled
one who had gotten the worst of it in a stab
bing affray. When I got to the city I found
the horse calmly waiting for me at the barn,
the proprietor wondering where he had left
me and one wheel of the sulky. Our racing
animal afterwards did business for a street
car company, which I always considered a
good joke on that corporation.

126

CHAPTER XII.
Everyone at some period of his life be
comes imbued with an idea that he is cut out
for something which is totally different
from what Nature really intended, and
makes a "try" at it. Of course he bumps up
against a realization of misplaced energy in
the end. I had always been fond of music,
but the only effort I had ever made in that
line was in the choir of the old country
church that I attended in my boyhood days
It is quite probable that my vocal exertions
there would not have met with the approval
of a more discriminating audience.
But a fellow, as I have stated, gets into a
condition of mind once in a while, especially
when he has been trotting along with no
special object in view except to have a time
of it, when he thinks he ought to take up
with something regular, hook on to some
thing tangible, and follow something at
which he can succeed; seek a harbor into
which to steer his ship, and be able to say to
people that he has accomplished something.
127

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
With a remembrance of the approval, or,
at least, a passive forbearance, with my
early musical efforts when I was flrst
brought before the public as a singer by
"Aunt Sally," I concluded that now I
would give my musical talents a chance to
shine in another direction for the ediflcation
of the world. I chose a cornet as an imple
ment of torture, and paid for the same
seventy-five dollars. This was a foolish
move, as a second-hand fifteen dollar instru
ment would have created just as much con
sternation and distress. I began prac
tice in my rooms at the Girard House. Those
who have listened to the melodious strains
emanating from an old-fashioned country
"horning bee" or have lived to hear the in
spired notes of a "calathumpian band," will
have some idea of what the guests of the
hotel had to endure while I was engaged in
the effort to make a musician out of myself
by the cornet method. Not only the occu
pants of the house, however, but the whole
block was affected, and during these musical
spasms of mine I was regularly consigned to
the infernal regions by a large and respect
able portion of Philadelphia. 128

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
The tune of "Hail Columbia" was at that
time more popular than now, and was the
object of my first attack. I coaxed as much
of it out of the instrument as I could, but
what came out was mangled and in pieces.
Philadelphia had never heard the like of it
before, and possibly has never heard any
thing approaching it since. During the
balmy weather, when I had my windows
open, the people were treated to an inferno
of sounds that a people less God-fearing
would have never submitted to for a mo
ment. It is said that the wooden blinds so
common upon the houses in Philadelphia
were put there during this period of my mu
sical madness. Nor did all Philadelphia
within hearing put up with my efforts with
out a grumble, and indications of this dis
content reached me frequently. The man
agement of the hotel never directly asked
me to cease the murderous work, as I had
been a somewhat profitable boarder, and
they expected, I guess, to make a good deal
more out of me. But indirectly hints did
reach me. Occasionally a bell boy would
rap at my door and earnestly inquire if any
thing was the matter. I always assured
129

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
them I was all right ; and while appreciating
the gentle hints thrown out, I argued that
they or no one else had the right to disturb
my musical lessons, much less deprive the
world of a musician of promised renown. So
I continued pouring my soul into that horn
and skipped notes and flatted where I should
not have done so, to the great ediflcation of
myself. During these performances the
bells in the office were kept on a constant
jangle by well-meaning, but unappreciative
guests, who insisted on my suppression.
Such expressions as the following would oc
casionally float up to where I was located :
"Tell that blankety blank would-be player
to let up."
"Tell that musical blacksmith that there
is a law in Pennsylvania against such out
rages." "Tell him to go and soak his horn in a
little coal-oil."
Of course there were many other expres
sions, more or less forcible, some intended
to be scorching, and others uttered in a
pleading, please don't, tone. The wonder is
that I escaped arrest. The hotel proprietor
was charitable, as I supposed, for he never
130

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
said a word at the time, but later when he
presented me with a board bill of nineteen
thousand dollars I reflected that there might
have been some method in his silence. It
did not state in so many words, "To dam
ages caused by trying to play a cornet," but
I thought I could see it there just the same ;
and the impression lingers with me still
that my musical education cost me more
than the education of some more pretentious
tooter. I have several notes which were
sent to me during this agonizing period, one
of which reads :
"Kind Sir : I like music as well as anyone,
and would suggest that a young man of your
talent should go to Europe to complete his
education. If you are lacking in funds, I
am confident sufflcient money can be raised
among the guests of the hotel to place you
beyond the reach of worry and want. This
is written by one who not only has your wel
fare, but the welfare of others, at heart."
Slocum and I studied over this letter a
little. He thought he could read between
the lines a delicate invitation to me to cease
my devotions. However, I was inclined to
give the writer credit for entire sincerity.
131

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Another note which I received read as fol
lows: "Mister, please stop that hellish noise."
This seemed to me direct and explicit, and
more to the point. I considered the writer
displeased. Continuing my practice of "Hail Colum
bia," I got another note from the writer of
the first one, which read as follows :
"I do not suppose anything but a fire
which would consume you and your imple
ment of torture, or an earthquake which
would engulf you both, would ever stop the
soul-torturing and nerve-destroying noise
of which you are the author. I recognize
that the chances are all against this appeal
percolating what little brain you have, but
if it should get wedged in anywhere, I will
be considered a benefactor by a large num
ber of enraged and outraged sufferers."
I found the above note under my door. It
seemed direct and explicit enough, but it did
not make me feel good. It certainly had the
effect of smothering my musical ambition.
The atmosphere of Philadelphia was no
longer split by disquieting tones; and later
I gave the horn to a member of the band of
132

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Skiff and Gaylord's minstrels, in which, it
will be remembered, I was a silent dividend
drawer. To succeed when the world is with you is
one thing ; to succeed when it is against you
is a different matter. Meeting with dis
couragement in my musical ambitions, I
struck out on another tack that I thought
would sail me into a port where my coming
would be recognized.
Back in the oil country when I was work
ing there it was necessary for me to mix
with a crowd of fellows who were as ready
to fight as to eat, and the man who could use
his fists to good purpose had an advantage
which sometimes stood him in good stead.
I had been in the habit of putting on the
gloves with some of the boys, and acquitted
myself well enough to cause me to think I
could stand up before anything of my
weight that walked. My disposition was
never a quarrelsome one, and my fighting
was always confined to good-natured bouts
with my friends. My success gave me con
fidence, and enabled me to take chances in
tough crowds that otherwise I would not
have taken. 133

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Having now forsaken the horn by force of
circumstances, I decided to renew my inter
est in boxing. I argued that possibly the
world would shortly be brought to know a
new middle-weight champion of the roped
arena. Having fully made up to this effect
all the mind I possessed, I went over to New
York and introduced myself to no less a per
sonage than Joe Coburn, the celebrated fis
tic anaesthetic, but who had retired practic
ally from his regular occupation of putting
people to sleep, and was then running a sort
of "academy" where he taught the manly art
to those who paid for the privilege of being
punched around, and where he sold drinks
on the side for the edification of those who
were bothered with a thirst. I made ar
rangements to become one of his pupils, and
went "into training."
I believe he sized me up the first time I put
in an appearance. He showed me his ideas
of how to guard and counter, and as he al
lowed me to hit him a few raps occasionally,
which would bring from him such remarks
as "That's good," "Bully boy," I began to
think I was becoming "it" with a large I,
and in a short time would be obliged to take
134

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
up with a professor who was handier than
he. I was elated. I was no horn-blower,
but I was a boxer! If, I thought, the boys
with whom I used to box could only see me
now, as I was standing up and punching one
of the greatest ring generals in the world,
how they would envy me, and how proud
they would be to boast that in their youthful
days they had donned the mits with "Coal-
Oil Johnny."
Then the lights went out. My face went
up against a good swift punch, and I laid
down, too tired to even dream. When con
sciousness returned I smiled a sickly sort of
smile, and asked everyone to take a drink.
This was a plan which I regularly adopted,
and the crowd soon found it out and brought
their friends, and soon Coburn was doing a
first-class business at my expense. When
the bar would try to take a rest, he would
slide in his right and trade would again
thrive. In fact I was a good thing, and each
bump cost me money.
I soon concluded that boxing was not my
forte, and sore, and somewhat discouraged,
I went back to Philadelphia. Coburn said
he was sorry to see me go ; but I was willing
135

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
to let my reputation rest solely on the lau
rels I had gained among the boys along the
creek, and let Coburn's bartender have a
much-needed rest.
When I got back to Philadelphia, my
friends hardly knew me. When I explained
to them the reason for the condition of my
visage, they only smiled.
During the winter the boys would some
times go skating at the rink. In the real,
true sense of the term, I had never had
skates on in my life, although in the slang
sense I had donned them several times. Be
ing urged, I bought a pair one day and went
with the crowd. Two of them volunteered
to teach me, one on each side. My feet wob
bled around, entirely out of my control, and
the more I was escorted the further I
seemed to get from the point where I could
go it alone. I remembered that when I was
younger I could slide upon the ice very suc
cessfully, though without skates, and I rea
soned that possibly I could do so when wear
ing them. So the fellows permitted me to
back and take a run. The start was all
right. I was skipping along in good shape.
Then my feet began to wobble, my arms to
136

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
describe angles, which resembled the ges
tures of a man in distress. And I was.
People got either in my way, or I could not
get out of theirs, and I knocked them down.
They were strewn all over the rink. I was
a sort of terror let loose. Then I leaned
back too far, my feet went up into the place
usually occupied by my head, and I studied
astronomy for a few moments and saw more
double stars than were ever seen through a
telescope. I awoke to find myself the center
of a partially maddened throng, and lis
tened to several opinions of myself which I
did not consider at all flattering. I removed
the skates and threw them somewhere, and
went home and poulticed myself.

137

CHAPTER XIII.
The agreement with Mr. Wickham, by the
terms of which he was to have the use of my
farm for six months at a rental of thirty
thousand dollars, which would apply as so
much purchase money upon the sale of the
farm to him at twelve hundred thousand
dollars, providing I could make a clear deed
of the land at the end of the rental period,
went into effect about January 1st, 1865.
That is, under the foregoing arrangement
he assumed entire charge of the farm at the
time stated. I had received the thirty thous
and dollars. In talking over the transaction
with him a little later in the day on which
Wickham paid me the thirty thousand dol
lars, he asked me to sign a note for that
amount, so as to secure him in case anything
should turn up whereby he could not hold
the farm for the full term. If at the end of
six months the agreement was fulfilled, the
note was to be returned to me. Without
waiting to see whether the contract would
be fulfilled, he entered the note as a judg-
139

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ment against the farm on January 9th,
1865, in the courts of Venango County. S.
Q. Brown also entered the same judgment
against my Meadville property about a
month later. Through some private trans
action between Wickham and Brown,
Brown came into possession of the note, and
entered it as stated. Instead of recognizing
the spirit of our agreement, Wickham pro
ceeded uipon the idea, I think, that the thir
ty thousand dollars was to be considered as
a loan, which it was not, in any sense of the
word. I do not wish to do anyone an injus
tice, but the whole affair looked to me then,
and more particularly in the light of later
years, like a scheme to wrest my property
from me.
In February of 1865, Dan Fowler, my
Meadville friend, visited me in Philadelphia
and conveyed to me the news that a judg
ment had been entered against my Mead
ville property ; also that I had not made all
my payments on the same as per my agree
ment with Horace Cullum. Fowler, too,
had entered a judgment against my Mead
ville holdings for six thousand dollars, for
money he had loaned to me. It is true that I
140

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
had borrowed some money from him prior
to my arrangement with Wickham, and, in
the confusion attendant upon my Philadel
phia career, could not state the exact
amount, though I never believed it equalled
the amount of the judgment. He also en
tered the judgment against my oil farm in
Venango County, and later entered another
judgment of twenty thousand dollars
against the farm, but for what reason I did
not know then and do not know to-day.
As stated, when Fowler visited me in
Philadelphia in February, 1865, he brought
me word that my payments in the transac
tions with Cullum had not been kept; and
he also informed me of the judgments en
tered by himself and Brown. The news of
this laxity in the matter of payments came
to me as a surprise, and almost sobered me
up. Later I ascertained that my agreement
with Cullum had been kept, that my agent,
William Blackstone, had attended to the
payments, and to-day I have a receipt in my
possession for all of them, amounting to
forty-five thousand dollars, which repre
sented my interest in the business block.
Fowler represented himself as a sort of
141

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
angel of mercy. He pandered to my weak
nesses, and called old "John Barleycorn" in
to assist him. He stated that I would never
receive much, if anything, from the Mead
ville property, and that he thought it would
soon be hopelessly beyond my control. In
this he was right. He further stated that if
I would deed the property over to him, he
would make me a present of sixteen hun
dred dollars, and if there should be anything
left after the judgments were satisfied, he
would give me the benefit of it, and he
thought he would probably be able to save
something over and above what these
amounted to.
Leaving Philadelphia, Fowler proceeded
to Rouseville to see Mrs. Steele, and repre
sented to her that he had purchased my
Meadville property, and asked for her signa
ture to the deed. Possessing more sense than
I had displayed, she hesitated about si'gning.
He informed her that all my Meadville pos
sessions were involved, and were bound to
go out of our control, anyway; that he felt
sorry because we had to lose so much prop
erty, and on account of that sympathy was
willing to pay her three thousand dollars in
142

View down Oil Creek from Steele Farm, showing Rouseville on the left.

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
return for her signature to the deed — a mat
ter easy of granting, a mere trifle. The not
ary — I do not recall his name, but he must
have been a close friend of Fowler's — inter
jected his opinion that, as Mrs. Steele was
not of age, the fact of her signing the deed
would really make no difference; but that
she might as well sign the document, as it
would be like finding money.
Thus misled, Mrs. Steele finally consent
ed, signed the deed, although she stated to
them she did not do so of her own free will,
and Fowler and his man Friday went their
way, carrying in their inside pocket half of
a Meadville business block, a ten thousand
dollar residence, and the Barton farm.
Not hearing anything from Fowler after
he was supposed to arrive home, a few weeks
after the transaction I went to Meadville to
see him. And while I succeeded in doing so,
I found him an altogether different man in
his actions toward me than formerly. He
was now the possessor of my proiperty, and
he could not find time to talk to me. Wit
nessing this coldness, it began to dawn upon
me that I had been duped. If I had had
someone to advise me properly at the time,
143

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I am quite certain I could have compelled
him to disgorge ; but I was chary in seeking
advice, for so far in my career it seemed as
if everyone was inclined to advise me wrong.
So chagrined did I feel about being taken in
in the above transaction, that I never said
anything about it until the present.
Whether or not Fowler came to Philadel
phia as a representative of Mr. Cullum, by
whom he had theretofore been employed in
selling barrels to the oil producers along
Oil Creek, I do not know. Certainly while
in Philadelphia, and in the transaction with
Mrs. Steele, he so represented himself, and
the property was deeded to him. One fact,
however, is indelibly impressed upon my
memory, and that is, I met Fowler first in
the month of March, 1864, when he was sell
ing barrels along the creek, and that in Feb
ruary of the following year he owned sixty-
seven thousand dollars' worth of what had
been my property, for which I never re
ceived any return except the amount which
he had loaned me, and the sixteen hundred
dollars paid to me in Philadelphia. In ad
dition there was the three thousand dollars
paid to my wife at the time she signed the
deed. (,,,)

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I am aware that the foregoing reflects
rather harsly upon my mental condition at
the time and upon my lack of comprehen
sion of business matters. In fact, I was a
regular bargain counter. Yet I am willing
to allow my actions to stand in comparison
with those of the people who handled the
other end of the transactions.
Troubles, they say, never come singly,
and when they started on me they seemed to
flock; At the end of six months Wickham
gave up the farm, claiming it had not pro
duced enough oil to justify a purchase, al
though before this period I had so adjusted
matters with Hamilton McClintock that I
could offer a clear title to the property, and
was in a position, upon receipt of the pur
chase price, to pay all judgments against my
holdings. The withdrawal of Wickham,
however, left me without resources, except
to the extent that I could "raise the dust"
myself by operating the farm. I am happy
to say that, so far as possible, I paid my ob
ligations; but the avalanche of judgments
that rushed down upon me proved so heavy
as to almost overwhelm and discourage me.
Learning of my embarrassments, other
145

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
creditors were not slow in rushing in. The
correctness of the greater part of the
amounts I have always questioned, but the
creditors went upon the principle that, as
long as the slaughtering had begun, they
might as well make a complete job of it. In
Philadelphia I owed four firms, besides a
small balance upon my board bill at the Gir
ard House. But this is what I got :
Henry Carnegie, proprietor of the hotel,
entered a judgment of nineteen thousand
dollars. I thought I had paid him nearly
everything, but this bill brought to me the
conclusion that I had not practiced the
strict economy I should have done. They
must have charged me for the air I breathed
and then read the meter wrong. The four
firms mentioned to enter judgments were J.
E. Caldwell & Company, jewelers, for five
thousand dollars; Lewis Ladomus, jeweler,
for six thousand dollars; Charles Oakford
& Company, tailors, five hundred and forty-
one dollars ; and last, but not least. Field &
Collender, fifteen hundred dollars. In ex
planation of the latter I would say, some
friend of Slocum's wanted to start a billiard
room, and the latter, together with George
146

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Brotherton, went his security to the amount
of fifteen hundred dollars, and the claim
came upon me. As to the jewelry, I must
confess that more people in the Quaker City
were wearing diamonds and such than there
Avere before we made our sensational ent
rance into the city. The greater part of the
jewelry for which I received the bills was
gotten by my friends, and some of it found
its way into pawn shops or was sold below
cost to raise money Avhen finances were low.
Gold at that time was worth f2.50, and dia
monds in proportion. So it is evident that
it took some money to deck our crowd out
with this costly material.
Andrew McKnight also entered a judg
ment against me for five thousand dollars.
He took a lease on the farm before Mrs. Mc
Clintock died, drilled a well, which proved
dry, and when the farm came into my pos
session he wanted me to pay him the money
he had lost. This I refused to consider, and
he entered a judgment.
Disgusted with myself, discouraged and
sick at heart, upon the advice of Major
James Mackey, my agent, I turned the farm
over to Mrs. Steele for whatever benefit she
147

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
could derive from it. It was also upon his
advice that Mrs. Steele sold the farm to Tay
lor, Mackey & Company for twenty thous
and dollars. Immediately following the
purchase. Judge William A. Galbraith, of
Erie, Pa., entered up a judgment of |10,000
for legal services; Charles E. Taylor, of
Franklin, entered two judgments, amount
ing to 112,500, and James Mackey, a judg
ment for |5,000. I do not believe that any
of these judgments were valid, as I did not
owe any of the parties one cent, and the
judgments were doubtless entered against
the property to ward off others which might
have been contemplated. Galbraith's claim
was for legal services, but I had paid him all
I owed him. I had never had any dealings
with Charles E. Taylor up to that time, and
Mackey's claim was for services rendered,
I believe. They took possession of the land in March,
1866, and ran it until January 1st, 1867.
.A-fter they had held it for this period (I was
absent), Mrs. Steele insisted upon the pur
chase price. And although the farm had
been held by them for nearly a year, all she
realized from it was six thousand dollars.
148

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
So the famous and much-talked of oil
farm passed out of our possession. If in my
short, grotesque and foolish career as own
er and proprietor I had been surrounded by
men who had had my best interests at heart
instead of by those who seemed to wish to
profit by my weaknesses and innocence of
legal procedure and business methods, cir
cumstances might have been altered, and in
stead of being held up to the public in the
light of a silly, unreasoning spendthrift, I
would have been in possession of an ample
fortune during my declining years.
In January, 1867, the farm was sold
under the sheriff's hammer, and was bid in
by George W. Hinkle, of Philadelphia, for
thirty-five thousand dollars. It was after
wards controlled by a company, the shares of
which were one hundred dollars each. It has
passed through various hands, until to-day
it is owned by Mr. John Wait, of Oil City,
who, by drilling upon the hillsides as well
as along the banks of the creek, and adopt
ing up-to-date methods in oil production,
has once more converted it into one of the
best paying properties along Oil Creek.
Many a lease in the oil regions to-day is
149

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Avorked profitably that would have been aban
doned as Avorthless by the operators of the
earlier days. The pumping rig, by which
several dozen wells can be pumped from one
engine, is a great labor and expense saver
over the old method of a boiler and engine
at each well. The storing of oil in tanks,
and the transportation of it therefrom by
means of barrels, boats, etc., were large
items of expense in the early days of the oil
business, and made many wells valueless
that have since become extremely profitable
by reason of improved methods of handling
oil. As a consequence, many thousands of
acres of oil territory abandoned as worth
less then, have in later years been converted
into veritable mines of wealth. Great pipe
line companies send gangers to the wells
now, who gauge the oil in the tank. The
ganger presents the producer with a certifi
cate of the amount of oil, then turns the
fluid into the line of the company. When
the price of oil is satisfactory to the owner,
he presents his certificate at the office of the
company and receives the current price for

150

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
his oil, with a small amount deducted there
from to cover pipeage and storage charges.
Such methods have caused the sun to shine
in many places in the oil regions where
otherwise there would have been perpetual
shadow.

151

CHAPTER XIV.
Through some kind provision of Nature,
the pleasantest of dreams often come to
those whose daily lives are crowded full of
trial and grief, and it is good that it is so,
for in that brief forgetfulness of daily trials
they find their only happiness on this big
earth. The poor man in his hovel may
dream of a palace, where everything is of the
gold and glitter order, where every want
may be granted simply for the asking, and
where the care-furrowed brow is made
smooth. However, such surcease from life's
actualities is only temporary, and some
times only serves to make the real existence
more bitter. No matter whether the dream
er be a king lying upon his downy couch or
the beggar resting upon a board, to each the
awakening always comes, the terrible reali
ties of life again face them.
To-day as I look back upon that period of
my life when I might have accomplished so
much good for myself and my friends, and
accomplished nothing; when I think of the
153

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
obligations of manhood placed upon me by
reason of my family and friends, which I
carelessly and thoughtlessly cast aside to
rush into and be engulfed by a vortex of dis
sipation, it seems as though it were a dream,
so utterly impossible and inhuman does it
appear to me now.
From the time I made the bargain with
William H. Wickham in the Girard House
of Philadelphia, by the terms of which he
paid me thirty thousand dollars, and held
dangling before my eyes the promise of over
a million dollars more in six months from
that time, my feet trod the downward way,
and at all times I was surrounded by those
who were willing and ready to accompany
me, so long as I paid the freight. I spent my
money foolishly, recklessly, wickedly, gave
it away without excuse; threw dollars to
street urchins to see them scramble ; tipped
waiters with five and ten dollar bills; was
intoxicated most of the time, and kept the
crowd surrounding me usually in the same
condition. I seemed to forget the folks at home. The
easiest thing in the world is to forget, even
those things which should be kept in mem-
154

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ory. Once or twice, however, I broke away
from Philadelphia to go back to the old
farm. Once Slocum accompanied me; an
other time Brotherton went along, at my ex
pense, and we scattered wild oats on the
way. I was sufficiently conscience-stricken,
however, that I did not want to see my wife ;
but I did talk to her once, and then she
pleaded with me to forsake my evil ways be
fore it was too late. I paid no attention to
this at the time, for I went back to Philadel
phia and resumed the usual course. Liquor
can make a man sell his soul to the devil
quicker than anything else on earth, and cer
tainly at this time mine was going devil-
ward as fast as it could. A good evidence
of this is shown by my neglect of those who,
although they could have justly cast me off,
remained true, hoping that some day I
would forsake my evil ways and companions
and hold my head up amongst men. I am
not a temperance lecturer, and never wrote
an article on the subject in my life, but if
someone were to ask me to pen a sentiment
for the benefit of the young men who have
to face the temptations of the world, I do
not know of anything better to say than,
155

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
"Tell the boys to drink water." Such a
warning should be placed upon the walls of
every household, so that the meaning of it
would seek deep into the minds of the
young. Of course I consider it somewhat out of
place that I should offer an excuse for mak
ing a fool of myself. A man is generally
looked down upon for trying to apologize
for something for which he is more to blame
than anyone else. When a man goes into a
thing with his eyes open, generally he cuts
a poor figure when he adopts the excuse that
someone else is responsible for his condition.
But when I started out I was new to the
world with which I was to mingle. My early
life had been surrounded by good Christian
influences, and my footsteps guarded as
carefully by my good Christian guardian as
though I had been of her OAvn flesh and
blood. I loved my wife, I loved my boy, and
yet I went the "pace that kills."
Already I have given some idea of the
crowd that surrounded me in my Philadel
phia life. Some names I have not men
tioned, but it is because I have forgotten
them. All I can recall is that they swore
156

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
eternal fealty and friendship, clung to me
while my money lasted, and forsook me when
it was gone. These men were gamblers,
men-about-town, actors, youths whom riches
had pampered into a condition to make my
kind of life attractive to them ; business men
whose motives were not of the best, and who
should be classed with the sharpers whose
methods were not always apparent to me
because of my condition. Such was the fol
lowing of courtiers who attended me,
laughed when I laughed, drank when I
drank, and at my expense; and by them I
was flattered and fleeced. The pedestal
upon which they placed me was so high that
I seemed to look down into their expectant
eyes and read in them admiration for my
brightness, and I scattered favors in profu
sion. It was my prominence upon this ped
estal also which made me such an easy
mark. While in this delirium rumors reached me
that all was not well at home. Wickham,
someone informed me, had not been doing
right. To these things I paid but little at
tention, and continued on my giddy career.
At the end of six months, I foolishly argued,
157

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I would be able to make clear title to the
property, and great wealth would be mine.
So dull care was driven away, and I kept
sailing along the same old rapids.
One day, in the midst of the wild delirium,
a missive was handed me by the hotel clerk,
from W. A. Galbraith, which read that
Wickham had given up the farm and James
A. Mackey had been placed in charge as my
agent. More than a million dollars gone in
one dash ! I tried to realize it all. The for
tune on which I had been staking everything
had disappeared like a fiash. I called Slo
cum to me — Slocum to whom in some wild
drunken freak I had entrusted all; Slocum,
who had always pretended to be my friend,
and was friendly as long as I gave him
money to spend. I needed his sympathy,
and thought I had some right to it, but he
had no sympathy or advice for me. He
seemed willing to desert the ship. For the
first time in a considerable period I became
strictly sober, and for the first time in many,
many days I thought of friends back home,
of my good wife, who was now weighted
with grief for me, and now had to confront
this additional misfortune ; and, for the first
158

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
time in my career of dissipation I did the
manly and upright thing — I went to those
who needed me.
At home I found things practically as
they had been represented. Matters too long
neglected had gone from bad to worse
through the machinations of those who had
taken advantage of my weakness. Looking
at it in any way I could, the future seemed
gloomy and dark. The farm, it is true, was
left, but black clouds were hovering over it,
and laden so heavily that, when the storm
broke, it engulfed all.
Having now an occasional sober moment,
I began to see Slocum in a different light,
and I resolved to be rid of him and Phila
delphia at the same time. I shook the city
first, however, reasoning that the only just
and manly thing to do was to go back to the
oil regions and save what could be saved
from the wreck. Before leaving Philadel
phia I did something which has gained for
me a great deal of notoriety, and has been
magnified so much that it has been told as
happening in a number of cities, and in a
manner which best suited the imagination
of the writers who treated of the occurrence.
159

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I owed to the man who had the stable where
I kept my team and carriage and who acted
as my driver, as well as my "chaperone" on
certain state occasions, a nice little bill for
his services. Having no money to give him,
and feeling under obligations to him for his
arduous and faithful attention, I concluded
to turn the horses, carriage, with its "coat-
of-arms" and all, over to him, and did so
before I bade him farewell. I regretted I
could not pay my other bills as easily as I
did this one. That action led to many out
landish and exaggerated stories, which have
had a tendency to lead readers to the con
clusion that I gave away a team of horses
and a carriage as a regular daily recreation.
My back was now turned upon Philadel
phia. My friends, the courtiers of my flush
days, had forsaken me, and were seeking
pastures new. My face was turned to the
future, and the world looked cold enough. I
was forsaken by all but one, and although
she had been made to suffer more than all
because of my misdeeds, she still believed
in me and had faith that I would yet come
out all right, and prove myself a man.

1 60

CHAPTER XV.
Two incidents of my brief and meteoric
career have been touched upon in various
newspaper articles meant to set forth some
of my foolishness while I was playing the
character of the champion spendthrift of the
oil regions, and which had some, but exceed
ingly slight, foundations of truth.
If some accounts are to be believed, I
spent a large portion of my wealth and the
major portion of my time in giving banquets
to my friends. It is quite true that often at
the Girard House I treated a friend to a
dinner at my table, where I always dis
played a great profusion of liberality, tipped
the waiters up to the limit, and made them
my staunch and steadfast friends; and
therefore it is quite probable secured many
delicacies from the kitchen which many a
more deserving boarder did not get. But
the only real banquet which I ever backed
financially was one that Slocum and I gave
to our minstrel friends of the silent-diAddend
company of Skiff and Gaylord. At one time
i6i

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
my companion and myself, being in New
York on one of our excursions, heard that
the merry crew was to play at Ithaca, New
York, on a certain date, and we went up
there, incidentally to gaze upon our invest
ment, but more particularly to have a high
old time. And we had it. We received a
cordial greeting from our old friends of the
burnt cork, and my gratitude for the same
swelled to such proportions that I resolved
to even up in some way. Possibly I argued
that some day I would get it all back in divi
dends; but then, what was the matter of a
few hundred dollars between friends. So I
arranged with the proprietor of the hotel to
set a banquet, to be pulled off after the
show. It was a complete success. Beyond
that I hardly recollect, and to describe the
details of the feast is beyond me. Neither
could I have described them accurately the
next morning. I remember that someone
nominated me for President of the United
States, and that I accepted the nomination.
Also I recall the fact of a biscuit hitting a
merry minstrel man in the eye; also that
some of the delegates went to sleep under
the table. Tax my memory as I may I have
162

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
no recollection of the manner in which the
nominee for the presidency made his way
from the banquet hall to his downy couch;
but I do recall that the state of his feelings
the next morning called for ice water in
large doses. That was the only real, true
banquet I ever gave. I think that was
enough. From current report some people
were led to believe that I spent most of my
time in stocking special trains with drink
ables, eatables, cigars, et cetera, and trav
eling with my friends about the country.
This would doubtless have produced a lot of
enjoyment, but I got mine in other ways.
The only special train I ever hired to run
for me was not a train, but that essential
portion thereof known as the engine. On
one of our trips to the oil regions, Slocum
and I decided to go to Erie, his home. Fol
lowing a custom which he had acquired, we
alighted from the train at a certain station
to get a drink. We became so engrossed
that the train, very inconsiderately, pulled
out without us. This we considered as treat
ment entirely out of proportion to our rank,
and we became somewhat indignant, and
wanted everyone to know that we were not
163

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
accustomed to such slights, and that a rail
road or two was the most insignificant of all
our possessions. In an effort to pacify our
wounded feelings, the railroad people
agreed to give us a special engine for the
sum of fifty dollars and catch the train for
us, which they would hold up for ten min
utes at one of the stations ahead. They got
the fifty, and got us to the train, where we
arrived scared nearly sober and full of cin
ders. And that was the only excursion I
ever backed in my life.
Having now bumped up against a great
heap of adversity, as I have observed, I
shook the soil of Philadelphia from my soles
and started for the oil regions. Seth Slo
cum went with me. He had never left me
from the first moment he had become ac
quainted. He did not wish anyone to have
a share of my wealth while he was on earth,
and scarcely anyone did, especially of the
gilded circle, unless he himself was also a
beneficiary. He clung to me closer than a
brother could or would have done, and
would have so clung to his dying day, no
doubt, had my money held out. But on my
last trip from Philadelphia I did something
164

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
that I had not been indulging in theretofore,
namely, I began to think; and the more I
thought the more I became impressed with
the idea if ever I was to amount to anything
in the world, which I very much doubted,
I must rid myself of Slocum. Every man is
to a large extent what he makes of himself,
and, therefore, to a large extent should be
held responsible. But I was confident that
the infiuence which Slocum had exerted over
me had not been beneficial, and I could see
no good which could come to me by keeping
him on my staff. Therefore, I resolved to be
rid of him as soon as I arrived home. I will
give the fellow credit, however, for having
a liking for me, but whether this was on ac
count of any special characteristic beyond
a willingness to part with my money to him,
I do not know. But now my sober reflection
told me that to get rid of him was the best
thing I could do. I wanted to gain a foot
hold in the world somehow, and did not
fancy the idea of being tripped up in so
doing. Therefore, when we arrived in Franklin I
informed Slocum that our partnership must
be dissolved. For a moment he seemed to
165

COAL OIL lOHNNY—HIS BOOK.
think I was joking, but I soon convinced
him, for the first time in my life, of my earn
estness, for I informed him that a memory
of him would be more preferable than his
presence; that no matter where he went,
there I would not follow, and I did not in
tend he should follow me. He seemed dazed
and bewildered at this statement of my in
tentions, or possibly at my firmness, as this
was the first time I had ever shown any to
wards him, and for the first time in our ex
perience positions were reversed, and I was
dictating terms to him. He begged, he en
treated, he supplicated, but all to no pur
pose. My mind Avas made up, and for the
first time in my life I felt the satisfaction
which comes to one when he succeeds in
casting a baneful infiuence aside. The air I
breathed seemed clearer, and more than
that, I had the pleasant realization that I
could assert myself on occasions if I wanted
to, and take on some of the slight attributes
of manhood.
When Slocum was spending my money,
Avhen he was surrounded by flatterers and
fawners, and playing the role of a blustering
spendthrift, he was the opposite of the man
166

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
who on this day of parting pleaded with me
for mercy and forgiveness. And even then
I listened to his entreaty that he was a phy
sical as well as a flnancial wreck, and gave
to him two notes of twenty-flve hundred dol
lars each, he thinking that he might get
something for them. And he did, for he sold
the notes to John C. Porter, of Meadville,
and they were afterwards entered against
what was left of my property.
I had given Slocum everything he had
ever asked me ; had never refused him a fav
or. His will power seemed stronger than
mine, and the foregoing proves that I had
not yet gotten wholly rid of his influence.
But after this transaction Seth Slocum went
out of my life, and I breathed freer. I never
saw him after that. He died in about two
years after the time I parted from him.
During his flnal illness he sent word that he
Avanted to see me, but I did not go to him.
If he wanted to explain anything, it was not
necessary. He may have wanted forgive
ness.. He has that anyway. I will not say
that I was not as much to blame as Seth Slo
cum ever was.
With several hundred dollars in my
167

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
pocket, I started out. First I went to
Rouseville and took a look over the old
place. Then I went up to visit Petroleum
Center, which at that time was in its "glory"
as one of the toughest places on the foot
stool. And so I was again back in the old
Oil Creek valley, but not at this time play
ing the character of the bedangled, diamond-
bedecked "Coal-Oil Johnny" of yore, but
practically stranded, estranged from my
friends of former days, with plenty of peo
ple around to whom I could speak, but none
who would advise or who offered to extend
a helping hand. Now that I was down and
comparatively penniless, no one fawned
upon me. To all intents and purposes I was
practically a wanderer on the face of the
earth. One time I went back to the old
church up there in the woods of Oakland
township. Memories came to me of a bare
foot, happy boy, of the honest, open-hearted
neighbors, and of the good old people who
had guided my youthful footsteps and tried
to start me right in the world. It seemed to
me as though I was driven instinctively to
the old church to pay a pennance, to give
away to bitter feelings, to confess that I had
1 68

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
not lived as I should have lived, and ask for
giveness. The regrets which came to me at
certain times I can never express. I real
ized that the life I had been living was but
a rope of sand, and the problem set me for
the future was one which I hardly dared to
solve. Fully realizing that drink had been
the principal cause of my undoing, I made
many a flght against it. and many times I
lost before I conquered.
As I have stated, I visited Petroleum Cen
ter. Like all the early oil towns, it had been
built in a hurry, and possessed board shan
ties, hotels, places of amusement, and mud
dy streets. But for pure, unadulterated
wickedness it eclipsed any town I had ever
favored with my presence, and I had wit
nessed the seamy side of life in many cities.
For open, flaunted vice and sin it laid over
any other on the map. There was no city
government, thugs carried matters with a
high hand ; resorts of a disreputable charac
ter flourished openly, and the unwary were
fleeced right and left. The scenes enacted
caused even old "rounders" to blush. It was
not safe for a man to walk the streets at
night alone. Sandbagging seemed to be a
169

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
regularly recognized occupation, and mur
der quite an occasional one. Gambling did
not run behind closed doors, and thousands
of dollars changed hands over the green
cloth. Pleased to get away with my life, I
went to Titusville, which was a lively, bust
ling town, which a capable municipal
government had transformed into a place
where, comparatively, law and order were
not at a discount.
Speaking of oil towns, one must justly
mention Rouseville, a place which had
grown up on the old Buchanan farm, almost
opposite my old farm. There was no settle
ment there when oil was first discovered
along the creek, but now it was a bustling
place, containing one or two good hotels, a
theatre, several churches, and a lot of in
habitants of that busy, cheery, hospitable
kind so characteristic of the oil country
then as now. To-day Rouseville retains
more of the typical architecture of the early
oil region times than any other place along
Oil Creek, and like all other towns has had
its tragedies and comedies incident to the
excitement attending the surging rush for
wealth in the oil country. The burning of
170

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
the well, where Henry R. Rouse and many
others met their death was a scene which I
witnessed. Leaving Titusville, I turned my steps to
ward the west, hoping, as many pilgrims be
fore me, that fortune would at last smile
upon me.

171

CHAPTER XVI.
From Titusville I went to Cleveland,
Ohio. While there I stopped at the Wed-
dell House, and on the evening of my arrival
visited the theatre. Somehow it became
known to a few that I was in the city, and I
was gaped at by curious individuals, and re
marks reached my ears which were not in
tended for me to hear. On my way back to
the hotel after the performance at the thea
tre, I became suspicious of the actions of
two men, thinking they had laid a conspir
acy to part me from my money. However,
I was not feeling in a mood to be sandbagged
and spirited up some dark alley for the edi
fication of a couple of crooks. What money
I had with me I needed worse than I ever
needed money before. So I took the middle
of the street. They did not follow me there,
and I arrived at the hotel without molesta
tion. This was the nearest I ever came to
being robbed in the old-fashioned, approved
way, and that may not have been as near as
I mistrusted. To being robbed in the more
173

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
genteel fashion I had not objected strenuous
ly; but I did not wish to welcome any new
departures. Having received in my brief ca
reer more notoriety than I ever desired, my
inclination now was to seek rest and quiet,
to get into places where I was not known,
and procure some honest employment by
which to live. But go where I would, it
seemed that my record had preceded me,
with the result that soon after arrival I
would become surrounded by what to me at
this time was an undesirable crowd of cur
iosity-mongers, who, whatever their inten
tion, made my life a burden. Then I would
move on to some other place, wishing for
peace and quiet, with the usual result of
being driven out. My nervous system was
rendered more sensitive by articles which
would appear in the newspapers, and they
put me in bad temper. My attempted refuta
tions would not appear in print; so I
stopped saying anything about myself, har
bored bitter thoughts, kept on retreating,
and came to regard humanity in general as
my bitter enemy.
I went over to Buffalo from Cleveland,
and ran into a coterie of friends who had
174

'^>/YJ

u

¦ Coal Oil Johnny " standing at the site of
THE famous Hammond well.

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
knoAvn me Avhen I was on the "firing line,"
and who insisted on making my stay pleas
ant and agreeable according to their ideas. I
stood them off temporarily, and in the night
time I skipped. I stopped in many places
after leaving the Bison City, but a short
time thereafter I found myself in Kansas
City, looking for work, being really desirous
of securing any honest occupation which
would enable me to forget myself and be
come contented and happy once again. Cer
tainly I thought this a worthy ambition, but
no one seemed to care to share it with me,
and often I became despondent ; yet 1 never
reached that stage of insanity which
brought me to a contemplation of suicide.
What was of no account in this world would
stand a mightly poor shoAv in the next, I ar
gued, and if the Avorld Avould try and put up
with me I Avould do my level best to get
along on the best terms I could with it. My
mind at this time, too, often reverted to the
happy days of the home on Oil Creek, and to
the folks up there. Then would follow the
thought of how things were instead of what
they might have been, of the wreck which
had followed my wake instead of what
175

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
might have been there ; and at these times I
did what many another fool has done, par
took of the cup that cheers, but which too
often inebriates.
On the first morning after my arrival at
Kansas City I started out for a walk, wish
ing to see some familiar face or hear the
voice of a friend, when someone behind me
remarked :
"Well, I'll be darned."
"Well, I'll bet it isn't," chimed in another.
"Take your bet," argued the first voice.
I turned around and bumped right into
my old minstrel friends and partners. Skiff
and Gaylord.
I was as glad to see them as a hungry man
is to eat. At that particular moment I real
ized how the Israelites felt when they
clapped their eyes on the promised land. I
stood there and shook their hands, we
hugged each other, and raised high jinks,
much to the edification of the onlookers.
My friends had heard of my misfortunes
and now expressed genuine sympathy, the
first I had listened to since the collapse.
Their show was playing in the city at the
time, and I found I was being advertised on
176

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
the same old bills which I had paid for back
in Philadelphia. To myself I argued that I
was just as much a proprietor of the aggre
gation as I ever had been, and, therefore,
when Skiff said, "Johnny, you have been a
good friend to us. Come along and travel
with the show," the sun came out brighter
than it had for a long time. We did not
stick upon terms. My expenses were to be
paid, and I was to take or sell tickets.
So again I was embarked upon a minstrel
career, this time, however, destined to last
much longer than my previous one. While
I had up to this time argued that the returns
from my investment in minstrelsy had not
been adequate for the money expended,
never having received a cent, it now seemed
to me that I was being generously compen
sated. To travel with a crowd of congenial
companions, with the assurance of a good
living, at least, during the winter, was cer
tainly preferable to traveling alone when all
ahead was uncertainty.
We visited many of the principal western
cities, among them Chicago, but while there
I never tried to buy an opera house for a
benefit performance, as reported. The show
177

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
finally worked its way over into Canada,
where we played in the leading towns, in
cluding the cities of Toronto and Montreal.
I was the "freak" of the aggregation, of
course, and "Coal-Oil Johnny" was pointed
out and stared at all along the line, for
which I always held the advance agent
largely responsible. I controlled my nat
ural feeling of resentment on the ground
that if it helped the show, it was all right.
When with the minstrel company I did not
object to being pointed out so strongly as
when traveling by myself, as with the com
pany one was more or less in "the public
eye" anyway, and therefore felt that some
thing was due to the public for the privilege
of living at its expense.
Leaving Canada, we went over into New
York State, crossing at Ogdensburg, and
played in a number of towns in the eastern
and central portions of the State. Thence
we traveled up into Maine, and down
through a goodly portion of New England.
"Is that Coal-Oil Johnny? Wal, I swan!"
was a common remark during this portion of
our tour. Among a certain type of the New
Englanderthis expression never varied more
178

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
than a word or two, and seemed as typical
of the country as the rock-bound coasts and
granite mountains.
I liked the New England people. There
are many different types, generous, shrewd,
and all hospitable. There is a quaintness in
the speech of the rural type which attracts
the stranger, and is as distinctive as the
dialect of the South. And I could not help
contrasting the solid New England yeo
manry with the inhabitants of the old Oil
Creek valley before the oil excitement dis
turbed them.
There was one individual in New England
whom I did not like, and I ran across him
several times in my capacity as ticket gath
erer for the show. He was the fellow who
tried to beat down the price of admission.
To have reduced the tariff one cent would
have afforded him unbounded satisfaction.
This particular individual is the one who
gives New England people a reputation for
closeness and parsimony which is unde
served. However, one day during the trip through
New England I received a letter asking me
to come home and begin to live over again,
179

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and show to my friends that I could be a
man. After one has kept away from the
home folks as long as I had, and dreads to
go back because of a realizing sense of the
injuries he has wrought to their feelings by
reason of the disgrace which he has brought
upon them, and therefore has come to believe
that home-ties are broken beyond repair,
such a missive coming to him touches the
heart. I had left home discouraged, filled
with a thousand regrets, and surrounded by
circumstances which brought to me a feel
ing that I had forfeited all the friends that
I had ever possessed back there. As a con
sequence I had gone out into the world, cast
my lot among strangers in order to, if pos
sible, forget. Many times in my wanderings
I had felt that I must certainly have been
obliterated, and perhaps justly, from the
thoughts of those who held the warmest
place in my memory. Then regrets would
overwhelm me, and I would go forward in a
careless, reckless way, hoping to banish all
such thoughts from my mind, for they were
as so many evil spirits, disturbing my sleep
ing and waking hours. I had received two
or three messages from home urging me to
1 80

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
lead a better life; and this I was earnestly
trying to do ; and while my efforts were not
what they should have been, yet my life was
one of complete sobriety and upright living
in comparison with my record in the old
Philadelphia days with Slocum.
An invitation to come home was not one
which I expected, and it was some time be
fore I could realize its full meaning. To ex
pect full forgiveness by those I loved, and a
complete restoration of their friendship was
something I could not bring myself to real
ize, so little did I consider I deserved such
recognition. But here Avas the invitation.
I decided to accept it, and told my decis
ion to my minstrel friends. The boys gath
ered around me at the parting and expressed
true regret. We had traveled many hun
dreds of miles together, and our minstrel
family was a happy one. And, with sadness
in my heart at the parting, but with a glad
realization that I was going home, I bade
farewell to that happy, genial, merry min
strel crowd forever. Most of the boys have
passed over the Great Divide, and their
laughter hushed forever from the ears of
men. Some of them are still in the land of
i8i

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
the living, and if any of them read this page
I want them to understand that I still pos
sess a fond remembrance of those old days
of 1866 and 1867, when we joked and
laughed as we "traveled the world to
gether." While I left the boys back there in New
England with feelings of sorrow, I was hap
py in the fact that, after all I had done,
after all that had been said, after all the
heart-pangs and the heart-burnings, for
giveness was written over the threshold,
and I was going home.

182

CHAPTER XVII.
When I arrived in the Oil Creek valley I
went first to the house of my brother-in-law,
who was living on the old farm in a new
dwelling which had been erected there, near
the old McClintock house where my boyhood
days had been spent. My father-in-law, at
AA'hose house my wife and boy were stopping,
was living at Dempseytown, Venango
County, several miles from our old home. I
at first hesitated about going there, fearing
I would not be welcome; then I reflected that
the letter asking me to come was in my
pocket. However, before I started, they
heard I was back at the old place and I re
ceived a cordial invitation to come.
I can never forget my feelings as I ap
proached the house. They were of doubt,
mingled with glad expectation of seeing
those whom I loved, and yet whom I felt I
had so heartlessly and thoughtlessly neg
lected. Finally I mustered up courage suffi
cient to knock at the door. It was opened
by Mr. Moffitt, who gave me a cordial hand-
183

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
clasp, and asked me to walk in. And inside
was my good wife and mother, with tears in
their eyes, and too, there was the lively
youngster of a boy who jumped around and
clapped his hands with delight. Figurative
ly, the fatted calf was killed for the return
ing and foolish prodigal. There was no word
of reproach, no word of regret from that
family circle. My welcome was true and
hearty and implied that I was to be consid
ered in the future, if I so desired, as one of
the household. In other words, I Avas "re
turned and no questions asked."
When one has gone wrong, and his con
science rises in reproof at the wrong-doing,
as mine had often done ; when one has been
cast out upon the world and brings himself
to the thought that those who loved him at
one time will, or should, know him no more ;
until such a time and then only will he enjoy
to the fullest extent being again with those
whom he loves, and appreciate the full for
giveness which can come from kind and lov
ing hearts. And until such time arrives, he
cannot ring down the curtain over the past
and look with complacency toward the fu
ture. 184

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
The kindly interest and good-will of other
friends gave me added hope, and I felt
ready now to go out and battle with the
world in earnest. The happiest moments of
my life were those that I spent at this time,
as I sat at the fireside with my family and
friends, where full forgiveness banished the
reproach which might have justly been
given to me. Mrs. Moffitt treated me as
kindly and lovingly as though I had been
her son. I was "her boy," as she often ex
pressed it ; and it has always been a gratifi
cation to me that in later years it was pos
sible for me to be near her in her final ill
ness, to make her last hours happy. Then
there was my boy, a robust lad, with a fine
healthy interest in everything going on in
the world, and capable of asking more ques
tions than any other youngster living. He
was glad to have me home, too ; possibly not
so much because I was his father as that I
had traveled about some, and could gratify
his curiosity by answering a part of his
questions, at least.
The fall and winter of 1867 I spent at my
father-in-law's. The next spring he sold the
farm and moved to one in Sugarcreek town-
185

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ship, in Venango County, which he had pur
chased. My wife gave me money enough
with which to purchase a team, and with it
I assisted to move the belongings over to the
ncAV place, and then assisted in the farming
operations. My brother-in-law and I worked
hard and faithfully, and accomplished a
great deal towards clearing land, and put
ting the rest of it in good and paying con
dition. In May of the year 1868, 1 took advantage
of the bankruptcy law. Afterwards I re
gretted many times I did this, for many rea
sons, but the action was taken on the advice
of a lawyer. It placed me in a position
where it was impossible for me to contest
any rights which I might have considered I
still held in the property. The money repre
sented by the Philadelphia judgments was
the only amount which I honestly owed.
Had I not followed the lawyer's advice it
might have been possible for me to have
proven the illegality of the other judgments,
have reopened the Philadelphia judgments,
and paid the money owed to my honest
creditors. Still, I can truthfully set forth
and aver that, even in the condition in
i86

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
which I was noAv placed, I was far happier
and better contented than when engaged in
the gayer occupation of buying diamonds
for myself and friends, and spending many
thousands. It was during the summer of 1868 when
Mrs. Steele, with the assistance of her fa
ther, succeeded in collecting six thousand
dollars for the oil farm in the transaction
by Avhich it passed into the possession of
Taylor, Mackey and Company. In the fall
of 1868 I moved my family to Franklin,
where I went to teaming. At that time
Henry Cullum, a son of Horace Cullum, the
gentleman with whom I had gone into part
nership on the business block venture in
Meadville, Pa., was conducting a barrel fac
tory in Franklin, in the Third Ward. About
the first job of teaming I secured was haul
ing stave-bolts for him, and when the bill
amounted to about forty dollars he failed,
and 1 never received a cent for my work. Al
though the amount was but "a drop in the
bucket" compared with the sums I had
parted with in other transactions, I felt the
loss more keenly than any I had ever ex
perienced. 187

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
It was while in Franklin that I joined the
Episcopal church. The rector of St. John's
parish at that time took a kindly interest in
me, which he has always retained, and for
which I have always felt under the deepest
obligations. After working in Franklin for a year I
went to Rouseville, in the fall of 1869, and
there for some time followed the occupation
of teamster, receiving good prices for my
work. Later I was offered and accepted a
position in the depot under Mr. E. A. Keane,
who Avas agent there. My duties, for which
I received sixty dollars per month, included
the handling of baggage and freight, and the
checking of the latter in and out. I re
ceived ten dollars a month more for extra
services, and later, when the express office
was put in there I received ten dollars ad
ditional for assisting in that department. It
is needless to say that I was as busy as the
traditional boy killing snakes. With my in
come I bought a home nearly opposite the
depot. I rented my team out. I worked in
the office and depot from six in the morning
until eleven at night, sent my boy to school,
and kept myself in a comparatively happy
1 88

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
frame of mind — happy because I was win
ning my way in the world, regaining the res
pect of my former neighbors and friends,
and that, too, in sight of the old farm across
the creek that had been such a factor in my
life. As all old-timers will remember, the
Rouseville station at this time was a busy
one, and Rouseville itself a lively commun
ity. A train was kept busy running between
that town and Oil City, three miles below,
transporting oil down and bringing coal
back. The land around Rouseville had
brought immense sums. Corning & Beers
were offered four millions of dollars for the
Smith farm, located up Cherry Run, which
they had originally purchased for thirty-five
hundred dollars from a man who had se
cured it in a trade for a yoke of oxen. This
is only given as an example of the numerous
business investments which surrounded the
busy little town.
When Mr. Keene, the station-agent at
Rouseville, resigned, he was succeeded by a
gentleman whose name I will omit, but who
was known by everyone as a ceaseless prac
tical joker, but of the harmless kind. He

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
was always causing uneasiness in some
quarters. I recall that he tied a cannon fire
cracker under the chair of a clerk, and
soared that individual heavenward, and who
came down cussing until the air was blue.
We were afraid of answering his questions
for fear of being "sold." As a consequence
of this tendency for joking, everyone was
laying for the station-master. One old felloAV
filled a tin horn with fiour, Avent to the depot
and called the agent to the window. He
pointed the horn at him, but the flour was
packed so tight that it could not be blown
out. The agent took in the situation at a
glance, reached down under the window,
seized a small sack of flour, hit the old gen
tleman with it, and sent him out of the de
pot looking like Jack Frost. A book could
be written of these pranks. They served to
make our duties seem lighter.
While at Rouseville I was initiated as an
Odd Fellow, and have always remained a
member of tha? organization. I had not lived
long in Rouseville, however, before I began
to receive extended mention once more in
the newspapers. They told of how I had re
formed, of things I did, of things I did not
190

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
do, each article being more exaggerated
than the preceding one. It was at this time
originated the story, which gained wide cir
culation, to the effect that one day when
upon one of my sprees in Philadelphia, I
placed ten thousand dollars on deposit in a
certain bank, which fact I had completely
forgotten upon my return to sobriety. In later
years the bank officials located me and the
money, with interest, was turned over to me.
No one could have been more pleased than I
had this been true, but, unfortunately, it
was not. It may have originated from the
fact of my keeping a large sum of money in
the safe at the Girard House.
While living at Rouseville a gentleman
came to me and offered me flve thousand dol
lars to relate to him the principal details
of my career so that he could write a history
of it. This offer I refused, as I refused all
others. I thought that possibly some
day the public would be allowed to
forget all about me; but it never has,
and as the years roll on the ac
counts become more and more exaggerated
and I have been compelled to get into print
myself as a sort of self-protection. I refused
191

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
many offers to exhibit myself with theat
rical aggregations. In later years I could
have received a large amount for exhibiting
myself at the Centennial Exposition in
Philadelphia. I was hewing out a new
course, breaking a fresh path, and saving
my money. Of course I got chances to in
vest the money, and I did. Mr. James Bre-
din had an oil lease at Bredinsburg which
he thought unusually promising and wished
me to go into partnership with him and drill
a well. I put six hundred dollars into this
enterprise, the well proved dry, and thus
went a good lot of money which I had
worked long and hard to accumulate, and
demonstrated that my lucky star was not
getting in its work at influencing my career
to the fullest extent. After nearly two years
and a half in the depot, feeling dissatisfled,
and wishing to fit myself for something bet
ter, I withdrew after a period of the hardest
work I ever performed in my life. But I
had worked myself into the good favor of
many people, and I felt recompensed, for
they were good enough to come and take me
by the hand and make me feel that I was, at
least, some sort of a factor in the world.
192

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
And I can say that during this period, when
working seventeen hours out of every twen
ty-four, leading a sober life, and with wife
and boy happy on my account, I first real
ized what a pleasure it was to take care of
myself and family.

193

CHAPTER XVIII.
Leaving Rouseville in the fall of 1873, I
went to Pittsburgh, taking my family
with me, my purpose being to try a course
in the Iron City Business College, thinking
it would further my chances of meeting with
success in life.
I found Pittsburgh a busier city than
when I had visited it in company with Mr.
Hayes a few years before, but, in view of my
experiences in the interim, it did not seem
as large. Nor did I care so much for riding
upon the street cars. However, I had a boy
to whom this afforded much pleasure, and I
often accompanied him. We were in Pitts
burgh for four months, the time necessary
to complete the course I was taking, and I
have always believed I acquitted myself
with credit as a student. To see a fellow
who had been through the experiences I had,
calmly settled down to the life of a scholar
even in a business college, seemed almost
a paradox to some people. My previous ex
perience had been chiefiy confined to one
195

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
side of the ledger ; now I became acquainted
Avith the other as well. I should have done
this earlier in life.
We returned to Franklin in the spring of
1874. I tried to secure a position, and sev
eral men offered to assist me to that end.
But I was not successful, and became some
what discouraged. The little city did not
offer as many opportunities for advance
ment then as it does to-day. However, I did
make a business move to the extent of put
ting some money in a meat market with my
brother-in-law, but the venture did not pay,
and I withdrew.
I found the feeling of despondency creep
ing over me again. At times everything
seemed to conspire against my getting a
foothold. Surrounding me, too, were many
who were acquaintances of long standing,
and the invitations to drink became too fre
quent. So I concluded to seek pastures new
and felt a deeper longing than ever to find
some place where no one knew of my past
career. Taking my family with me, I again
turned westward. Before starting we had
not fully determined upon our destination.
But one day we left the train at Denison,
196

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
Iowa, and here I planted my flag with the
resolve to go to work at any honest occupa
tion I could get which would afford a living
for us.
Denison is the county seat of Crawford
County, Iowa, and is located between the
East and West Boyer rivers, at the junction
of the two streams.
Here we found the people warm-hearted
and generous, and, so far as I knew, no one
in the town was aware of my identity as
"Coal-Oil Johnny," although I went under
my full name. We bought some lots, and
built a house, went to housekeeping, and
then I looked around for something by
Avhich to earn a living. The first one to of
fer me employment was a Mr. Homer Darn
ell, who, as it happened, had relatives in
Franklin, Pa. He employed many men, as
he had a contract for building bridges for
two counties, and he engaged me to drive a
team and haul lumber for these structures.
I went to work with a will, and kept at this
occupation steadily all through the first
summer, and until the cold weather came in
the fall.
I had never since my return to sober life
197

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
enjoyed myself so thoroughly as I did in this
Western town. No one but my family knew
my identity, or, if they did, said nothing
about it, and I was for a period protected
from that prying curiosity which had al-
Avays been so odious to me. Oftentimes my
duties would take me for miles over the
prairie, where there was not a building or a
human being in sight; and out there in the
solitude, with nothing but the sky above and
the ground beneath, far away from the old
world I had known, where no one could
break in upon the silence and burden my
mind with a thought of the cares and
troubles of other days, I felt that I had
many blessings to be thankful for. My work
was hard, but I liked it, and I could contem
plate the future with perfect serenity.
Of necessity our "gang" roughed it a
good deal, slept where night would overtake
us, and partook of any kind of food that was
presented. This was always eaten with i
relish. As I have said, the people of the town
were warm-hearted and generous, so charac
teristic of the West. I recall that Mr. J.
Fred Myers was the editor of the "Review,"
198

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
a Republican weekly. I want to give him
full credit for his kindness in an indirect
way to me ; for when my identity afterwards
became known, and a new batch of exploits
appeared in the papers of the larger cities,
he never reprinted any of them in the pages
of his bright little journal. And this was
done by him without any request upon my
part for him so to do.
In the fall of the year I secured a position
as manager of the grocery department in a
large department store, an establishment
that sold everything that could possibly be
needed, from pins to coffins. One of the
partners was an Englishman, who had come
to Denison to take an interest in the store,
and from the time he became a partner it
was a success. With him came one brother,
and a friend who held a position as book
keeper in the establishment. I refer to these
people, not only because they were exceed
ingly friendly to me, but because they were
Episcopalians. My wife and I belonging to
this denomination, our little coterie con
cluded it would be a good thing to build a
church in which we could worship accord
ing to our creed. Consequently we formed
199

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
a little society, called upon other people
whom we thought would be interested, and
some who did not attend regularly any
church. We got up a Sunday school and
gathered in all the scholars we could find,
many of them children who had never at
tended such a school, and made them wel
come. We soon had a good attendance. The
ladies formed an Aid Society, and raised
some money in that Avay. The AVork on the
church was performed by different individ
uals in the congregation, and most of the
work was done after regular business hours.
One of the members, a carpenter, aided
most efficiently. The structure was begun
in April, and about Thanksgiving time the
roof was completed. We all went to work
with a will, and in order to keep down ex
penses the duties about the church were at
tended to by the different members. Two
ladies were designated each week to sweep
it. As I lived near the edifice, I attended
to the fires. I was also elected as one of the
vestrymen, in which capacity I served for
about two years, when I was elected senior
warden. I was never more interested in
anything than to see that church a success,
200

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
and it was a success, and its power of doing
good gradually extended. Our first rector
was a kindly old gentleman, who believed
that one of the paramount duties of this
world was in doing good to others. He
made this his daily creed, and lived up to it.
Those who live in the West know that a cy
clone is no respecter of a church more than
of any other building. One day a cyclone
came to Denison, and lifted the little church
off of its foundations. At a comparatively
slight expense it Avas replaced. I recall that
one of the contributors to this fund was the
former rector of St. John's church at Frank
lin, Pa. Not only do I feel grateful for this
contribution, but for many other acts show
ing an interest in my welfare. At one time
Avhen some misguided young man of wealth
was parading under the nam.e of "Coal-Oil
Johnny," and met his death in a tragic man
ner, my obituary began to appear in the
newspapers, together with a record of my
life. At that time this rector took
it upon himself to set at rest these
misleading reports, and was kind
enough to say that I was living the
life of a respected and honored citizen
20 r

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
in a western town, and that most of the
stories told of me could not be justified or
sustained by the actual facts. To this man
I owe a great deal for putting me upon the
way to a better life than I had ever known
before I came under his kind and thought
ful infiuence.
Another man to whom I owe a debt of
gratitude was Mr. Issachar Schofield, of
Dunlap, Iowa, a Quaker, who owned a flour
and feed store in Denison. After serving
eighteen months in the department store I
left to take charge of the Denison branch
of Mr. Schofield's business. The latter was
one of the squarest men I have ever met.
He would rather have parted with his right
arm than to have taken undue advantage
of anyone, and, as a consequence, he en
joyed great credit and patronage. After
wards his Denison business was increased
by adding a grain elevator, and I superin
tended all of the business connected with
that. My son had been at school at Ames,
Iowa, for a year, and coming home, and anx
ious for something to do, I put him at work
running the engine in the elevator for a
time. 202

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
I say with some pride that during the en
tire period of my service with Mr. Schofield
he never found one word of fault with the
way I conducted matters. Affairs were
handled honestly, and that satisfied him.
Near us were large settlements of Swede
and German farmers. The latter were our
exclusive customers, and would trust us
implicitly in the matter of weight and meas
urement of their grain. These farmers were
thrifty. I remember one old German who
had six pretty daughters, but no sons. The
daughters worked on the farm, and they
would assist their father in drawing the
grain to market. They could handle the
heavy sacks as easily as a man could have
done. I remember they had the rosy cheeks
and the healthy complexions which an out
door life gives.
I remained with Mr. Schofield until the
fall of 1880, when he decided to go out of
business. I would have purchased the Deni
son branch myself, but I found my health
giving out. The dust of the elevator had
proven injurious to my lungs, and I there
fore felt it necessary to secure some other
occupation. Never did I part from an em-
203

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ployer with more regret than I did from this
good old Quaker gentleman. He lived up to
the golden rule, and one of his mottoes was :
"When buying grain, pay all you can for it ;
but do not pay so much that you will have
to cheat your customer in weight."
In this connection I might say that, as a
side issue, my employer permitted me to
conduct a small coal yard on my own ac
count. A Franklin gentleman, who was then do
ing business in Sioux City, learning that I
was in Denison, came down and paid me a
visit. We were glad to see him, and would
have been glad to see anyone from the oil
regions. However, in conversation with
some of the people of Denison he let drop
the fact that I was the famous "Coal-Oil
Johnny" of newspaper notoriety, and this
fact soon became known to everyone in
Denison. My place of residence soon be
came located, and advertised by the news
papers, after which I had an opportunity
offered of going to Chicago and entering a
dime museum. Many other offers came to
me from showmen. Yet, while my identity
became known, it did not seem to make any
204

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
difference in the actions of my Denison
friends toward me, for they always treated
myself and family kindly. Although the
most outlandish reports appeared in the
public prints, they did not worry me as for
merly ; but worry me they did. My feelings
towards the newspapers were not cordial,
and when a "Burlington Hawkeye" man one
day got into my house and asked for an in
terview I effectively fired him through the
portal with the remark that if during my
career I had killed half a dozen or so of his
profession, my peace of mind would have
been much greater.
Possibly I did not look at the matter in
the right way; but when one has been
hounded day and night by column after
column of fabrication, and was afraid of
walking along the street for fear of being
pointed out as a freak ; when he has seen his
family suffer humiliation because of the ly
ing propensities of some irresponsible
space-writer — until then he cannot compre
hend the feelings which came over me.
I have had some very peculiar experiences
with individuals who knew all about me and
whose information was gathered from read-
205

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ing the reports which had been put in cir
culation. One in particular comes to my
mind now, of a traveling man who came up
from the depot with me one day in the
"bus." Learning that my name was Steele,
he asked me if I had ever known "Coal-Oil
Johnny" Steele. I professed ignorance of
such an individual, whereupon he informed
me that he knew him at one time, was with
him when he bought the Fifth Avenue Hotel
in New York City, and rode all over the
country with him on a special train.
Whereupon I think I Avas justified in think
ing that as a prevaricator that traveling
man was something of what the boys called
a "bird." While in Denison I gave up the tobacco
habit. I had always used the weed to ex
cess, and was always chewing or smoking.
It made me nervous, affected my health, and
I resolved to rid myself of the habit. My ap
petite left me, and for a long time after
breaking off, I could not sleep. It was one
of the greatest trials I ever had, but I won,
and Avith that habit went all the bad ones I
ever had, and for twenty-five years I have
not used tobacco in any form.
206

Latest Photograph of Mr. Steele,
"Coal Oil Johnny."

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
My health growing somewhat worse, we
decided to move to Lincoln, Nebraska,
where we could place our son in college. We
lived in Lincoln during the winter of 1880
and 1881. I recall that it was an exception
al season. Snow is much scarcer in that
part of the country than many of the people
of the East imagine, and a snow storm was
welcomed as a sort of novelty; the citizens
took advantage of the pleasures it afforded
in peculiar ways. Improvised sleighs would
appear upon the streets soon after a fall of
snow, a familiar kind being made of dry
goods boxes placed on runners. I remember
one individual who hitched his horse to a
rocking chair. It is needless to say that he
was the chief attraction.
During the fall of 1881, my health having
improved to an extent that would enable me
to go to work, I secured a position in a gen
eral merchandise store in Kearney, Nebras
ka. A few months later my family followed
me. In the summer of 1882, there being a
vacancy in the freight department of the
Burlington station, I decided to quit the
mercantile business and return to my for
mer occupation of railroading. After serv-
207

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
ing in this capacity for some time, I was
made cashier, and worked in this line until
the spring of 1886. Kearney was a lively
little town at this time, and was experienc
ing a real estate boom of considerable di
mensions. I invested some money in this
line, and realized a good turn. At this time
I also invested in some Nebraska land near
Kearney. When I purchased it the nearest
railroad station was nineteen miles from it,
but at the present time there is one railroad
within two and a half, and another within
three and a half miles. I still own this land,
rent it on shares, and it is gradually improv
ing in value. Kearney was a great shipping
place for cattle, and the cowboys used to
visit it. After a roundup these individuals
would inject a little excitement into the life
we lived there. They never did any great
injury, but their fun was of a kind to scare
a tenderfoot. They would ride their bron
chos through the streets, fire revolvers in
the air, and emit whoops which would chill
the blood of anyone unused to such scenes.
Another favorite amusement was to ride
their ponies into a saloon and ask the bar
tender to hand them up a drink. When they
208

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
had disposed of it, they would turn the pony
around, give a shout, and ride out. Some
times they would race their animals along
the sidewalks, at which time all foot pas
sengers discreetly got out of the way.
While at Kearney we had the pleasure of
assisting to reorganize the Episcopal mis
sion, which had been suspended for some
time. We found a few families who entered
into the work heartily, and we began hold
ing service in a store building ; later the ser
vices were held in the Christian church and
a Sunday school and Ladies' Auxiliary or
ganized. The bishop, seeing the needs of the
place, sent a clergyman and furnished
means to carry on the work. In about a
year we had a nice little church edifice.
From this small beginning it has grown to
be one of the leading churches of the dio
cese. Finding that the close confinement of the
office did not agree with me, I made applica
tion for a change that would give me outside
work. I was transferred to Louisville, Ne
braska, and given charge of the yard. It
was with sincere regrets that we left Kear
ney and the many kind friends we had made
209

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
there. Louisville at that time was a busy
little town of ten or twelve hundred inhabi
tants. There were two large stone quarries
which were getting out about seventy-five
cars of ballast daily for the Burlington R.
R., and a large pottery manufactory. The
country surrounding was given over to
farming. We remained here about two
years, when I was transferred to Ashland,
Nebraska, a much larger town, about mid
way between Omaha and Lincoln. I re
mained here about ten years, when I was
called east by the serious illness of a near
relative, and our time has been divided be
tween the East and my Western home ever
since. And so I have written the story. Doubt
less it has been a disappointment to those
who have had exalted notions of the esca
pades of "Coal-Oil Johnny." However,
those who have known me for years I trust
will at least give me credit for having been
as truthful in my statements as possible,
and will realize that to bridge thirty-five
years with memory is no easy task, and not
always proves an accurate one. The prin
cipal reason for this book was to set forth
2IO

COAL OIL JOHNNY— HIS BOOK.
the main details of my foolish career which
have been so distorted in the public prints.
Another, but perhaps worthier, motive has
inspired me, namely, that if this book will
act as a corrective influence upon some wor
thy but misguided young man who thinks a
wild life desirable or manly, I shall feel
more than repaid.
So thanking my readers for their kind
ness and consideration, I bid them good-bye.

211

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