Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-12-18
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stoned no comment by the costume.
A familiar figure in the oil fields is
that of the bent calico-clad farm wom-
an-not old, perhaps, but aged before
her time by working in the fields or
doing homework under primitive con-
ditions-who comes in to cash her
check from the oil company and is
met at the door of the bank by
iewelry salesman from Dallas or New
Orleans She buys rings or brooches
or watch for herself or her daugh-
ters before she buys shoes.
Aunt Mahaley owned the acre her.
cabin stood on. She was tall, stately
black woman with hair as straight as
that of a Chinese. though not as
glossy. People said she spent on
"anti-kink" all the money she made
by washing. But when somebody
asked her what she was going to do
with the money she got from leasing
her acre to the oil men she said:
"Well, Use been studyin' bout it an
Use jest bout made up my mind to
do whut all de white ladies in town
is doin'-I'se got jes' enough money
to git me one o. dem pummanent
waves"
Aunt Mahaley, like the white
farmers wives. was buying beauty.
Don't call these folks behind the
times when speed and good looks are
the two things they go after first. In
that they're right up with the JazZiest
of the younger generation on Broad
way or Park avenue.
Most of the wells seem to be
brought in way out in the country at
the end of an impossible road. But
the oil excitement is felt, of course, in
the nearest town.
EAIRVIEW, according to the last
six censuses, is a city of some
1900 souls. There is one train a day
each way. not counting freight trains
in the tomato sea son. The clamor of
industry in Fairview is confined to
the alternate put.put and drone pro-
ceeding from F'rye's sawmill down on
Mill Creek. Buzzards circle low over
Fairview through the long afternoons
But one day a rattly little car drove
into Fairview from Shreveport, and
two youngish men in khaki breeches
had dinner at the Commercial Hotel.
Afterward they played around out on
the Clayville road, though nobody
knew what they were doing. A week
after that tired-looking man in
gray alpaca suit got off the train and
hired a jitney to drive him out to the
Mitchell farm. He saw the Mitchell
boys and Alec Tatum and that Jack
son darky that owned farm next
to Tatum's, and the next weeks issue
of the Courier carried a story with a
double column head saying it was ru-
mored that a large Eastern oil COM
pany was leasing land near the city,
and expected to drill in the near flu
ture.
More oil scouts came, and they set
off blasts for what they called seismo-.
graph tests all around town. The
Commercial Club decided there wasn't
any use letting outsiders skim all the
cream and they. organized local
company. The Guaranty Bank was
behind 1t. and they were going to drill
on the Hicks farm, old man Hicks be-
ing president of the bank. He'd al
ways felt sure there was oil on his
place.
There was such an interest in land
titles stirred up that the abstract Of.
fee did rushing business. Miss Jes-
sic Purviance, notary public, made
enough out of fees for a new hat and
a trip to Shreveport.
The Adams family was split wide
open by a lawsuit. They never had
worried about how the farm was tied
up by old man Adams when he died.
till the oil excitement started. and
Will Adams wanted to lease to one
company while his brother Wade
had halfway promised another. That
wasn't the only case. either. The
Blakeneys sued the Campbells over
a boundary. and there were so many
citatio published in the Courier
that one week the paper had eight
pages instead of four.
The Commercial Hotel had to build
an extra wing and 1t advanced the
price of dinner from Is cents to 81.