Plummer Barfield Interview - Plummer Barfield Interview [part 1 of 4]

PIONEERS IN TEXAS OIL Topic: Experiences of a mule skinner and rig builder in the early days of Spindle top, Sour Lake and Batson. Name: Barfield, Plummer M. Interviewer: Owens, William A. Place: Sour Lake, Texas. Tape No.: 25 Date: August 1, 1952 Restrictions: None O.- Now, Mr. Barfield,

B.- My name is P. M. Barfield. I was born June the 25th, 1887, and moved to Beaumont, Jefferson County, the same year. Now...

O.- What were your parents' names?

B.- Charles W. and Lela M. Barfield.

O.- Where were they born? Do you know?

B.- They were born in Mississippi and Alabama, Father born in Alabama and Mother in Mississippi. And moved to Texas in '55, in 1855, and later moved to Beaumont in 1887, the fall of 1887.

And, of course, I attended public schools in Beaumont 'til the ninth grade.

And at the outbreak of-- I mean, at the discovery of oil at Spindletop in January, 1901, my father being a teaming contractor, it wasn't but a few weeks until I was hauling material in the oil field and worked there probably a year or so.

Then the- this exploration of Hardin County started in 1902 and we were hauling material over here.

Of course, by wagon. Back in those days, why, they used what is known as a four-up to carry an ordinary load over a long haul so we could make a little time.

When a man started out with a single team, why, he didn't have much of a load, because if he did, he wouldn't get nowhere.

O.- Yeah. I'd like to ask a question about the Spindletop. Where were you when the gusher came in?

B. - Well, if I remember right, I first heard of it- I think it came in one morning about- between ten and eleven o'clock.

Me and a bunch of kids was- had been in the woods, down in the marsh there where the Magnolia refinery is. That's where we duck hunted quite a bit. Ducks come in there and fed on acorns in the wood. And we'd been down in there duck hunting.

When we heard all the commotion, well, we heard the roar, and it happened to be a clear day and we could see the spray.

Of course, we saddled horses and all went out. Everybody went out, for that matter.

O.- Did you have any idea what it was when you saw it?

B.- No, we-- of course, we knew that they were drilling out there, but we didn't know what they were drilling for.

O.- Yeah. And then you went out with all of the people and all of the excitement and so on. And how soon after that did you start hauling out to....

B.- Well, I was driving a team after- before and after school then.

O. - Yeah.

B.- Of course, my daddy had several old men working for him. And it was my job to harness their teams and take them to them, keep them from having to walk a mile and a half, two miles to get their team. I usually drove one and led one.

Had a couple of old men working for him and he was showing them that courtesy by making his kid get up and carry the team to them, and then go back and get them at six o'clock in the evening.

That was when I was going to school, but in the summertime I made a hand just like the employees«

O.- Yeah. Then you quit school that year?

B.- No, I-- I didn't quit until 19- 'til 1903. I worked in the oil field- that is, hauled in the oil field all during the summer months.

O.- I see. And then you--

B.- And then lots of times after school, Saturdays and Sundays. We was all pretty busy around there.

O.- Were you living right in Beaumont?

B.- Well, what they called the south end of town, out on Sabine Pass Avenue, just about a mile from the court house. The old homestead-- I think the streetcar barn, East Texas Railway Barn, is on the same property I think. I ain't positive about it now.

O.- Yes, uh-huh. Well, a great number of people came in there. What changes did you notice?

B.- Well, the railroads began to run excursions in there 24 hours after the well came in. Well, I guess 48 hours, or two days later, why, the town was full. Hotel space was all taken up and thirty days afterwards, why, the town was overcrowded.

People were sleeping in barns and living in tents and- well, Beaumont's population was probably between six and 7000 and it jumped to 25 to 30 in the first 40 or 50 days, and then went on up to- I think I've heard it said- now, this is not official, but probably 65-- 70,000 people there within six months after the discovery well, that following summer.

O.- Did you know some of the people who were operating? Did you know Patillo Higgins, for instance?

B.- Yeah. I knew-- I-- Patillo Higgins was my Sunday School teacher.

O.- Oh, you were in his class?

B.- Yeah.

O.- Well, when did you go into his class?

B.- Well, he taught a class of boys- you know, they- back in those days, they didn't have what they call- well, now, you see, they have their classes divided in all age groups. Then, they were just books, ten and twelve year old boys up to sixteen and seventeen year old boys. And Patillo Higgins taught a class of boys in the Baptist Church there. Oh, I guess there was ten or twelve in there and they were all ages, maybe from twelve to eighteen.

O.- How much credit should he have for developing Spindletop?

B.- Well, as far as contending for it, I guess he is the most- I think he would be the- due all the credit, 'cause he drilled a well as far back as 1906, five years before that.

O.- You mean 1896?

B.- 18-- yes, 1896, Because me and one of my brothers, that is, I was just a sightseer in the way, but my brother was riding an ox team going down what is known as Willie Barr's on the Iron Bridge. My daddy had a portable steam boiler that Patillo borrowed for boiler power to pump water for his first drilling rig.

And this brother of mine had the ox team and started out for it and he crossed the T & NO Railroad and lightning-- the summertime. The lightning hit the railroad somewhere up the line and killed his lead steer. I was sitting on the back end of the wagon and I seen it. You know, scared. And I let out and run back to the house, about three-quarters of a mile, and told my daddy lightning had killed them all! So he got on a horse and started out. And I got on another horse and got up there and my brother had took another ox yoke and team a loose, you know, and pulled them out of the way and was going on down the road. Left-- just left two dead oxen.

And I finally followed him four or five miles, and turned the horses loose and got back on the wagon and went with him. And they moved that boiler from Willie Barr's rice farm. It was a portable boiler that was used for thrashing rice, first one, I think, that was ever brought to Jefferson County. And they moved it down on what is known as Roadeye Gulley, southeast of Spindletop, which is a pretty good size stream that always has is, I was just a sight seer in the way, but my brother was water in it. Pump water, fresh water, back into this drilling rig.

Of course, now, I don't know what occurred, nothing like that. O.- Yeah. B.- I just know that I was out there, O.- Yeah. B.- That particular instance.

O.- Did the people laugh at him for thinking there was oil there?

B.- Well, I've heard it said afterwards. Of course, now, being a kid, you know, you didn't know too much about what the men-folks was talking about. And-- and I remember reading in the paper about it, but the newspaper editors didn't insinuate that he was unrational, nothing like that. They just figured that he was determined to find out what was out there,

O.- Yeah. B.- But you know, Spindletop had a sulphur spring and surface gas that you could burn by taking a tin can and heading up the bubble there until it got a head and strike a match and she'd flash and maybe burn and- 'til it come a rain and water got over it. See, that automatically put it out.

O.- Yeah.

B.- But otherwise, it-- I don't know how- it would burn forever, 'til it was exhausted. I know I've-- I've set it afire many a time, and I know of other people who- they'd- on a dark night, when it was burning, why, you could see a blaze from where we lived.

See, we were about three and a half miles north of Spindletop but there was no underbrush out in there then. Of course, there's worlds of shade trees all been planted there now.

O.- Yes. B.- Course, you could see that flare 'cause it was up on a hill. And Spindletop, I think the elevation of Spindletop is about ten feet higher than the natural elevation of Beaumont.

O.- Did you know the Hamill brothers?

B.- Yeah, I knew them.

O.- Did you go out to the field when they were drilling the Lucas Gusher by any chance?

B.- No, I rode by there once or twice, but before-- I never knew the Hamill brothers until afterwards. Of course, they continued to contract there.

O.- Yes. B.- I hauled materials for them. And there's two of them, I think, still living.

O.- Yes, I talked to one of them.

B.- Curt?

O.- I talked to Curt, yes, sir. There are several questions I wanted to ask you. Do you know whether they used mud on- In drilling the Lucas Gusher or not?'

B.- Well, back in those days they would try to make their own mud. They'd go out and find-- if they could find clay to the-- close to the surface, they would dig that and haul, and throw it in.

Of course, it would automatically dissolve and thicken in water,

O.- Yes, sir. But you don't know whether they actually did that in that well or not?

B.- No, I don't. I couldn't say. I didn't- you know, they- they went to using that, though, probably the next year. You seen what was known as mud mixers.

O.- Yes. B,- Homemade affairs, sorta like a- well, it was just a square box, about twelve inches square and had a hopper over it and a pulverizer. Usually they made it out of anything that would pulverize these clay chunks that they would haul in there, to where they would dissolve quicker when they hit the water.

O.- Yes. Do you know who made the first of those?

B.- No, I really don't. I-- I'm pretty sure that those old Corsicana rotary rig runners had used it previous,

O.- Yes,

B.- But I know of them going clean back to the river bottom, the edge of the river bottom, where they could find good clay, and haul it to the field as early as 1902 for that matter.

O.- Yeah.

B.- Course, now, I don't-- that's all I know about that mud apparatus. I know what it looks like and, of course, I afterwards built them, several years later, but at that time I didn't know whether they were coffee mills, concrete mixer or what-have-you. But I knew that that was the purpose of them.

O.- Did you know a Reverend Cheney who lived around there then?

B.- Yeah. And his son was a prominent rice farmer in Jefferson County several years after that. Even up to as late, I think, as 1906. J. C. Cheney.

O.- Yes. How near Spindletop did Reverend Cheney live, do you think?

B.- Well, he was on what was known as the McFaddin Canal, one - well, I don't know how many years he was out there, but the McFaddin Canal is about three and a half miles southeast of Spindletop.

O.- Well, do you know if he had cows at that time?

B.- Yeah.

O.- The reason I'm asking is I have heard one story that Reverend Cheney's cows mixed the mud that was used on the Lucas Gusher,

B.- Well, now, there's a possibility they could have if they'd a went-- he lived on a ridge where the clay was pretty close to the top of the ground.

O.- Yes.

B.- Now, there's a possibility that they could have went there and dug that clay there because he lived on a ridge, what used to be known as the old McFaddin ranch house, and clay was pretty close to the top of the ground there because they had a brick yard about three and a half or four miles further south than his house, and you know that they had to have had good clay or they wouldn't have -

O.- Yes, that's true.

B.- To make bricks.

O.- Did you know a Negro teamster named Willie Henry?

B.- Yeah.

O.- Is that right?

B.- Yeah.

O.- And did he at any time work for Reverend Cheney?

B.-Well, now, Cheney had some teams hauling in the field, now. I remember that. He had a boy-- he had two sons. One of them was-- was about six or seven years older than I am, and the other one was probably three years older than I am and I know that they were teaming in there. Of course, they had a bunch of Negroes with them. And I'm satisfied the one you had reference to is one of them because he was a pretty fair mule skinner because he done all the fancy driving, had the best team. Usually, could tell by the team they drove as to the ability.

O.- Yeah. Curt Hamill tells me that Willie Henry hauled the slabs for their boiler when they were drilling the well.

B.- Well, you see, my daddy-- part of his teams, that was their business, hauling wood away from the mill. And I'm pretty sure that I throwed slabs out of the elevator for the boiler because he had a contract, he sold a bunch of slab wood.

And he put me out there on the elevator to throw them out on the outside of the mill. No doubt that I throwed the slabs out there, especially during the summertime, of a evening after school hours 'til dark. And in all probabilities, I'm the yap that throwed out some of those slabs, if not the majority of them, because they were cut in boiler lengths by the cut-off saw in the mill.

O.- Yes, sir.

B.- And it was my job on the outside of the mill to keep from congesting the woodyard underneath the shed. That's where old man Cheney's team hauled the-- hauled the wood. I know that.

O. - Yes, sir. When did you first come to Sour Lake then?

B.- Well, my first regular trip in here was-- I think was in the latter part of July or August in 1902.

O.- I'd like for you to describe that trip if you could.

B.- Well, there wasn't nothing unusual about it. Of course, we didn't have any graded roads, but they had a designated trail across the prairie and we usually went by what was known as these prairie ponds, you know. That was our water troughs for horses. And most of those ponds had a herd sand bottom and you were perfectly safe to drive out In them with your load and water your team and then go on without unhooking them from the wagon. And, of course, the only art we had of knowing where we was going, was to know about where the bridge was on the bayou and hit it about the right place, 'cause, as a rule, the creek bottoms was a little bit rough going if the weather was damp.

Of course, after you made one or two trips, why, you could make it blindfolded. Back in those days, we usually used a crooked tree or a extra high one for a landmark.

And it wasn't but a few days, though, until they had a beatout path a hundred yards wide, especially in bad weather because nobody drove in the other man's tracks. If he did, why, he'd bog down, so consequently, one man was just right beside the other one, all headed to the bridge.

O.- Were you driving mules for that trip over?

B.- Well, no. I had a pair of horses on that trip. Well, I had four horses. But my next trip I had a bunch of mules. In fact, there wasn't too many horses in the oil field until they began to import these big draft horses. Well, they were all right In dry weather, but in bad weather they bogged awful bad because they were extra heavy. And, consequently, it was-- but as the machinery got heavier, why, they had to import heavier mules and horses to haul them 'cause these little natives, they just wasn't hot enough, couldn't hardly get enough of them to run it.

See, our mules and horses back in those days would weigh anywhere from 650 to 950 pounds. Well, what was known as a Missouri mule or a northern draft horse, he'd be a small animal if he weighed less than 1500 pounds. But, eventually, they went to grading roads, and cutting right-of-ways. Well, the big teams-- well, they had to bring them in because it took a big team to handle the machinery, 'cause the machinery that they used back in discovery days, why, was very frail affair compared to what it later become even as far back as 1912 and '14.

And, naturally, as the machinery got bigger, why, the mules and horses and wagons got heavier. Even got to running eight-wheel wagons and what is known as a wide-tired wagon. We first started out with the old farm wagon, narrow tires. Studebaker and Tennessee and Milbourne were the principal wagons down in this country.

But the regular wagon for heavy hauling, it began to come in along in '10 and '12 when the machinery got so heavy these other wagons wouldn't hold it up. So, naturally, the- as the equipment got heavier, why, the wagons got larger and the teams got heavier and, consequently, in 1915, '16, why, the trucks came into the oil field and they been in ever since.

O.- Yeah. Did you ever drive oxen yourself?

B.- Only extra. That is, when the ox driver maybe would want to go somewhere and always had a well trained team and it wasn't anything exceptional, but I don't suppose I could have handled an untrained team. But a well trained ox team is just as easy to handle as walking down the road because all you've got to do is keep your leaders in line and the rest, they follow the leaders. Of course, you'll have a shirker in your string occasionally. You have to keep him whipped up in line. Of course, if they get hot, why, they're liable to sull on you. Of course, you're supposed to know that and not go too far on a hot day. In other words, go from one water hole to another.

But, of course, now, I don't suppose I could have took an untrained ox team, I might have herded them in a rein, but I couldn't have done any work because I've seen nice work done with ox teams.

That is, as far as moving stuff and even placing it. They can move it a quarter of an inch or they can maybe move it a foot and a half if they want to with a well trained team. Well, the same thing applies to horses and mules. I've seen them that were well trained and you can depend on.

O.- Did you use different language talking to the oxen from that from the mules?

B.- Well, sure-- you-- you drove your oxen by voice more than anything. And you had your reins to get your team around. You pulled it around. You might cuss him a little bit if he didn't get over as quick as he ought to. But as a rule, why, you just had three words to say to an oxen, to the leader of a ox team, and that was, "Whoa, ha, and gee." And that was stop, right and left, you see. And, of course, as a rule an ox driver had a ten or twelve foot footstock, you know, and he'd rap them on the horns, you know, rather than whip them with a lash. He'd just punch them on the horns and they'll heed a warning or a tap on the horns a whole lot quicker than they would a lash from the whip.

Of course, you usually use that whip just to pop it to let them know you was there. And, of course, you could reach across from the off side from where you were and get a lagging steer in line If you figured he wasn't doing his duty, so- but- you held your team, your horses and mules, why - They never drove string teams in this country.

I drove what was known as a jerkline team in the Mojave Desert, out there where it's wide open space and dry. But down in this country, why, you used- you pretty near had to have a line with a mule because you had him in the mud and you had to dodge stumps because they didn't cut roads and right-of-ways like they do now. In fact, they have to build roads now for trucks regardless of what they haul.

But with oxen, you handled your oxens practically by your voice if he was properly trained. Of course, you-- but your mules and horses were in- they were all guided by the reins, just like driving- whether you had a single horse or a string team. Eight head is the most that I ever drove with a load. That's what they call a four-up.

O.- A four-up.

B.- I mean-- two four-ups, is what they--

O.- Two four-ups.

B.- Which would be eight head.

O.- Well, I wonder if you recall how you used to yell at them.

B.- Well, that wouldn't sound very good. I don't think- just like I told you, that old whooping and hollering and cussing was just a habit 'cause I worked with mule skinners and ox drivers both that got along without that profanity. Of course, it didn't do any good.

But we have- as a rule, you know, a nigger, he always sung everything he said, along before sundown especially. And in the big camps, in the grading camps where there were lots of niggers and lots of mules, why, when the niggers would go to singing, why, the mules would go to braying because it was pretty near sundown and, as a rule, there's always some of them in there that watch the sun and they had their-- they made up their songs as they went and pretty muchly some of them was the same tune in the category that they sing their spirituals right now. And some of them were singing spiritual songs, no doubt.

And some of them was using other language that could have been omitted, I think. Now, that was just my opinion. Of course, no doubt, but I said and done things that wasn't necessary to say to a horse, or a mule either.

O. - Well, when did you come to Sour Lake to stay, to live?

B.- In 1908.

O.- 1908?

B.- Of December of 1908.

O.- All the other time you were working back and forth from Beaumont?

B.- Back and forth from oil fields, clean out as far as Kern River valley, Bakers field, and Kalingo, and McKitric, and Taft, and Maron and those fields out there where they had the earthquake the other day.

O.- Yes. How did you happen to go out there?

B. - Well, that was- when they decided to move their rotary rigs out there to see if they couldn't dig that hard formation with a rotary rig and so- in other words, it seems as though the cable tool was working anywhere from nine months to two and a half years on a 2000 foot hole.

And the rotary rig down in this Gulf coast country was- at that time, would clip a couple of thousand feet in 35 to 45 days. So naturally the oil companies figured maybe that they could dig out there in less time so they began to ship them out, out of the Gulf coast area.

You see, the California field come in before Oklahoma and-- just about the time North Louisiana did. Caddo, they called it. So naturally the Oil Well Supply and the National Supply and the- the Southern Wellworks and Corsicana Supply Company that built these rotary rigs, they introduced the Associated Oil Company, which is the-- part of the Southern Pacific, and, of course, the Standard Oil Company and the Union Oil Company.

And I think the Union Oil Company is controlled by the Santa Fe or same stockholders, Anyhow, it's controlled by an Eastern concern, I think these rotary people propositioned them in some way that they could go out there and dig those holes in less time with a rotary rig than they were drilling them with cable tool.

So they shipped them out and they shipped rig runners. You see, the Louisiana fields, then in Sulphur, and around there, came in afterwards and the panic had come on, you know, and this thing was shut down pretty well. And that's when they began to load out rotary rigs and they took rig builders with them. And I went to California then as a rotary rig builder.

O.- When did you stop being a mule skinner and become an oil field worker?

B.- In 1906. The-- well, I was working for a living, so I figured there wasn't any use to work for a dollar and a half a day when you could make three dollars so I just quit. The main reason, that I didn't see anything them boys was doing that I couldn't learn to do so I went to work in-- in the oil field with the Moonshine Oil Company, which is-- I'm not positive, but I think it's one of the forerunners of the Texas company. I think the Moonshine and- Moonshine stockholders and the Producers stockholders are the forerunners of The Texas Company; that is, in this district,

O.- Yes, sir. What well did you start working on then?

B.- Moonshine No, 5.

O.- Where was that located?

B.- In the north part of what is known as the Ash Tract, what is known as the Texas Company lease here,

O.- Out here at Sour Lake?

B.- Yeah,

O.- Who was in charge of Moonshine at that point?

B.- A fellow by the name of Sturm, Bill Sturm, I think, from-