Sketches in Crude-oil / Some accidents and incidents of the petroleum development in all parts of the globe

by John J. McLaurin

RUINS OF THE ACME REFINERY, TITUSVILLE, AFTER THE FIRE ON JUNE 1, 1880.

The fire that desolated St. Petersburg started in Fred Hepp’s beer-saloon. Hepp had a sign representing a man attempting to lift a schooner of lager as big as himself and remarking, “Oxcuse me ov you bleese.” The fire “oxcused” him from further exertion. Two destructive conflagrations almost eliminated Parker from the face of the earth. Karns City experienced three fiery visitations. In 1874 sixty-four buildings in the heart of town went up in smoke. Sixteen followed in September, 1876, the post-office and two largest stores figuring in the list. On March fifth, 1877, Mrs. F. E. Bateman, three children and a guest perished in the Bateman House. Bateman, one son and one guest were caught in the flames and burned fatally, dying in a few hours. Burning coals adhering to a chunk of a bursting boiler, on Cherry Run, near the Reed well, plunged into a tank of oil and started a frightful blaze. Acres of the valley, covered with derricks and tanks, flamed with the fury of a veritable hell. Men fled to the hills and no life was lost. A train of blazing tank-cars on the Allegheny-Valley Railroad, below Foster station, interrupted travel for many hours. The passenger-train from Pittsburg stopped and the passengers walked up the track to see the huge blaze. Thomas Bennett, the engineer, went a short distance ahead, when an iron-tank exploded with fearful violence, one piece striking Bennett in the breast and killing him instantly. David Ker was conductor of the train poor Bennett did not live to guide to its destination.

THOMAS MARTINDALE.

Thomas Martindale, who leads the retail-grocery trade, brought with him to Philadelphia twenty years ago the vim and energy that gained him fame and fortune in the oil-region. He clerked for years in a Boston dry-goods store, quit Massachusetts for Pennsylvania and landed at Oil City in 1869. He took the first job that offered—grubbing out a road to his wells for John S. Rich—used eyes and brain and soon knew how to “run engine.” Buying an interest in a grocery, his “Checkered Store” became noted for excellent wares and low prices. The “Blue Store,” larger and better, followed and was in turn succeeded by the “Mammoth.” Martindale sold to Steffee & Co., moved to Philadelphia and opened the first California store. It was a revelation to the citizens to get fruits and wines straight from the Pacific coast and they patronized him liberally. Partners were taken in, whom the head of the firm imbued with something of his own energy and magnetism. Active in politics and trade, wide-awake and public-spirited, many Philadelphians contend that the next mayor of the Quaker City shall spell his name Thomas Martindale. He is a trenchant writer and has published “Sport Royal,” an admirable work descriptive of hunting adventures in which he participated. The live merchant who caught the inspiration of five-dollar oil is sixteen ounces to the pound every time and every place.

“Never quarrel with a preacher or an editor,” said Henry Clay, “for the one can slap you from the pulpit and the other hit you in his paper without your getting a chance to strike back.” Col. William Phillips, president of the Allegheny-Valley Railroad, violated the Kentucky statesman’s wise maxim by making war on the Oil-City Derrick. He was building the Low-Grade division, from Red Bank to Emporium, and the main-line suffered. The track was neglected, decayed ties and broken rails were common and accidents occurred too frequently for comfort. The winter and spring of 1873 were fruitful of disaster. At Rockland an oil-train ran over the steep bank into the river, upsetting the passenger-coach at the rear. The oil caught fire, several passengers were burned to death and others were terribly injured. The railroad officials, acting under orders from headquarters, refused to give information to the crowd of frantic people who besieged the office at Oil City to learn the fate of friends on the train. To the last moment they denied that anything serious had happened, although passengers able to walk to Rockland Station telegraphed brief particulars. At last a train bearing some of the injured reached Oil City. Next morning the Derrick gave full details and criticised the management of the road severely for the bad condition of the track and the stupid attempt to withhold information. The heading of the article—“Hell Afloat”—enraged Col. Phillips. He and Superintendent J. J. Lawrence prepared a circular to the conductors, instructing them “to take up pass of C. E. Bishop or J. J. McLaurin whenever presented, collect full fare, prohibit newsboys from selling the Oil-City Derrick on the trains, not allow the paper to be carried except in the mails or as express-matter, and to report to the General Superintendent.” Conductor Wench, a pleasant, genial fellow, on my next trip from Parker looked perplexed as he greeted me. He hesitated, walked past, returned in a few moments and asked to see my pass. The document was produced, he drew a letter from his pocket and showed it to me. It was the order signed by Phillips and Lawrence. “That’s clear enough, here’s your fare,” was my rejoinder. It was agreed at the office to say nothing for a day or two. Doubtless Phillips and Lawrence thought the paper had been scared and would send a flag of truce. A big wreck afforded the opportunity to open hostilities. For months the war raged. The paper had a regular heading—“Another Accident on the Valley of the Shadow Road”—which was printed every morning. Accidents multiplied and travel sought other lines. Phillips threatened to remove the shops from South Oil City, his partners wished Bishop to let up, he refused and they bought his interest. Peace was proclaimed, the road was put into decent order and the Pennsylvania Railroad eventually secured it. The fight had no end of comical features. It worried Col. Phillips exceedingly and spread the reputation of the Derrick over the continent. The cruel war is over and Col. Phillips and Col. Lawrence journeyed to the tomb long years ago.

“Jim” Collins—he ought to be manager—is about the only one of the early conductors on the Allegheny-Valley Railroad still in the traces. His record of twenty-seven years shows capable, faithful attention to duty and care for the comfort and safety of passengers that has gained him the highest popularity. Superintendent “Tom” King, now vice-president of the Baltimore & Ohio, is among the foremost railroad-officials of the United States. His brother was crushed to death by the cars. Wench, the Taylors, Reynolds and Bonar have been off the road many years. Long trains of crude are also missing, some towns along the route have disappeared and the crowds of operators who formerly thronged the line between Parker and Oil City have vanished from the scene. David Kerr, whom Collins succeeded, went to Arkansas. John McGinnes, one of the bravest engineers who ever pulled a throttle, headed the railroad-strikers in 1877 and died six years ago. “Jim” Bonnar is in Chicago, Grant Thomas is train-dispatcher and “Dick” Reynolds superintends a Baltimore road. The Allegheny-Valley, extended to Oil-City in the winter of 1867-8, is different from what it was when the superintendent walked over the entire track every day and the president applied formally to the directors for authority to purchase a new lock for his desk.

The first railroad to enter Oil City was the Atlantic & Great Western, now of the Erie system, in 1866. Its first train crossed the mouth of Oil Creek on a track laid upon the ice. “Billy” Stevens and John Babcock were early conductors. Stevens went to Maine and Babcock died several years ago at Meadville, soon after completing a term as mayor of the city. The Farmers’ Railroad was finished in 1867, the Allegheny Valley in 1868 and the Lake-Shore in 1870. A short railroad up Sage Run conveyed coal from the Cranberry mines. On August fourth, 1882, the engineer—Frank Wright—lost control of a train on the down grade, one of the steepest in the state. He reversed the engine to the last notch and jumped, sustaining injuries that caused his death in four days. For two miles the track was torn up and coal-cars were smashed to splinters by running into a train of freight-cars at McAlevy’s Mills. Six men were killed outright and five died from their injuries next day.

The popular auditor of the New York Central, W. F. McCullough, was an Oil-City boy. His brother, James McCullough, is traveling-auditor of the New York, New Haven & Hartford; another brother, E. M. McCullough, is traveling bill-agent for the U. S. Steamship-Railway Company. They are sons of the late Dr. T. C. McCullough, who died at Oil City in 1896.