The Men of Steel

from my LinkedIn article of April 12, 2016

by Richard A. Sukup, P.E.

Hardened by the U.S. great Depression and WWII-cotton, cattle, oil and gas were king-the latter offered new hope and opportunity for many young men in Texas including my father. This was a time when cable tool rigs made of wood, were still drilling and “men were made of steel”; as my departed friend B.J. “Billy” Mitchell (Emeritus Professor-Colorado School of Mines) used to remind me and the other engineers at Mobil.

Their bronzed leather faces, scared hands and forearms, stooped backs and swagger, told of hard labor-proud men who pioneered the great oil and gas industry. Back then few of these men were even aware of the word ‘technology’ or gave a tinkers damn of those who showed up on location wearing city attire with some newfangled idea.

We are enamored with the latest computer information technologies giving little thought to those old timers. Those hands swinging a 300# Webb-Wilson around the drill floor in perfect rhythm-up elevator, in with the slips, throw the chain, pull and lift, hang off, grab another joint, tong it up, and so on and so on…over and over…day in day out... in the ever present roar of a Waukesha diesel, choking fumes, blowing dust storms, scorching heat or bitter cold. Oh how magnificent these men of steel! Legends born.

Too old to change, these old timers weathered the storms of change, accepted failures as inevitable, moved from oilfield towns and camps, just looking forward to that next card game with their pals or a bigger garden to plant-but ever fearful of falling oil prices and crooked politicians.

Many a cycle of rock bottom oil sent a chill through oilfield worker households…and families suffered. But not the fast talking freewheeling corporates, snug in their glass ivory towers and politicians hunkered down in marbled government halls. Countless numbers of independents go bankrupt and small banks go under with millions of unsecured bad loans. Surviving companies seem content to wait it out till the next boom and then resort to hiring amateurs. Old news. Witness today-this boom bust cycle repeats itself many times for each generation of oilfield workers and we harden our hearts just a little more each time-but never breaking our will and frontier spirit. We just move on hoping for better times.

The Seven Sisters of old days are gone just like these rough and tough, slouchy stained coverall, unadorned cowboy boot wearing men of steel of yesteryear. For today we're taught to place more worth in the hands of white-collar Wall Street than our razor thin skilled laborers.

Some of my pals have finally thrown in the hard hat this time around. Ok I say. Go fishing, golfing, shooting, or whatever makes you happy and be content to reminisce about the good ‘ole days-if you’ve made it this far, you deserve a rest, or maybe plant a bigger garden?

Epilogue: We live in a modern computerized world of convenience. Many amongst us seem to distain hard work, fear pain, or worse-failure. By my great fortune, I was raised by an honorable blue-collar father, and told it was OK to make and learn from failures. Often at the dinner table, he would seem worried he might be fired because of failed attempts at the rig and hav'n taken a cussin-out from the company man. He and the many stood tall and carried on day after day. God bless them all, as this truly was ‘The Great Generation” who made this great nation.

My Dad and his pals are long departed. Oh how I wish I could find him and some of those old timers now, join in their card game, step into their time machine, and enjoy a yarn or two bout their exploits in ‘the patch’. I know I can't. I'll be very content to resume my oil painting from yesterday. God Bless. Regards. Richard.