Sketches in Crude-oil: Some accidents and incidents of the petroleum development in all parts of the globeMcLaurin, John J. (John James)
History
Sketches in Crude-oil: Some accidents and incidents of the petroleum development in all parts of the globe
McLaurin, John J. (John James)
Petroleum -- History; Petroleum industry and trade -- North America -- History
Franklin boasts the finest stone side-walks in the State. There are
imposing churches, shady parks, broad streets, cosy homes, spacious
stores, first-class schools, fine hotels and inviting drives. For
years the Baptist quartette has not been surpassed in New York or
Philadelphia. The opera-house is a gem. Three railroads—a fourth is
coming that will lop off sixty-five miles between New York and
Chicago—and electric street-cars supply rapid transit. Five
substantial banks, a half-dozen millionaires, two-dozen
hundred-thousand-dollar-citizens and multitudes of well-to-do
property-holders give the place financial backbone. Manufactures
flourish, wages are liberal and many workmen own their snug houses.
Probably no town in the United States, of seven-thousand population,
has greater wealth, better society and a kindlier feeling clear
through the community.
On the south bank of French Creek, at Twelfth and Otter streets, James
Evans, blacksmith, had lived twenty years. A baby when his parents
settled farther up in 1802, he removed to Franklin in 1839. His house
stood near the “spring” from which Hulings and Whitman wrung out the
viscid scum. In dry weather the well he dug seventeen feet for water
smelled and tasted of petroleum. Tidings of Drake’s success set the
blacksmith thinking. Drake had bored into the well close to the “spring”
and found oil. Why not try the experiment at Franklin? Evans was not
flush of cash, but the hardware-dealer trusted him for the iron and he
hammered out rough drilling-tools. He and his son Henry rigged a
spring-pole and bounced the drill in the water-well. At seventy-two feet
a crevice was encountered. The tools dropped, breaking off a fragment of
iron, which obstinately refused to be fished out. Pumping by hand would
determine whether a prize or a blank was to be drawn in the greasian
lottery. Two men plied the pump vigorously. A stream of dark-green fluid
gushed forth at the rate of twenty-five barrels a day. It was heavy oil,
about thirty degrees gravity, free from grit and smooth as silk. The
greatest lubricant on earth had been unearthed!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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