locals were oblivious to the potential of the resource they were sitting on. In fact, in the years since the Indians had been driven off, rock oil had lost favor as a fuel, though the hardy Europeans who replaced them had found another use for the stuff: they bottled and sold it as an elixir, good for whatever ailed you.
Bissell and Eveleth were convinced that kerosene was the fuel of the future, however, and they were sure that they could make a killing if only they could find the right man to go to Titusville and develop it on their behalf. The right man didn’t even have to have a background in science or engineering. The truth is, Bissell and Eveleth could not afford to pay for that kind of expertise. The only qualification they required was the one thing Drake brought to the table: a free train ticket to the woods of northwestern Pennsylvania.
Thus, in almost no time, Drake was the proud owner of a stake in the fledgling oil company and a brand-new title—one of the firm’s investors had, for reasons known only to that investor, taken to calling Drake “Colonel,” and even though he had never served a day in the military, the title stuck. He was on his way to Titusville.
In 1858, not long after he arrived in Titusville, Drake became the first to do what oilmen have done ever since. Using a derrick modified from the ancient Chinese cable tool technology and powered by a source that Drake knew a little something about—a steam locomotive engine he managed to persuade the investors to spring for—Drake drilled. And he drilled. And he drilled. And he failed. And he failed. And he failed. No matter how hard or fast the drill bit turned, the earth and rock and water that lay just beneath the surface closed back in around the borehole, slowing the drill, stalling it. It was as if the earth itself was trying to choke the world’s first oil well to death in its crib. His backers in Pittsburgh began to lose patience. But the sickly, dour former railroad man had one more idea that would become his greatest contribution to the world’s energy future, one that is still in use today: he painstakingly followed the drill bit, lining the hole with iron casings, holding back the earth, the stone, and the water, until his drill reached the targeted deposit of oil. He bored through the casing to a depth of 70 feet.
Oil did not rush up out of the ground. In fact, nothing happened. Shattered, Drake walked away. He came back the next morning—it was August 27, 1859—to find oil bubbling up into the well.
Given the primitive surveying techniques of the time, and the rudimentary understanding of geology, it was pure luck that Drake hit any oil at all. As author Virginia Thorndike noted in her 2007 book
LNG
, had Drake drilled a few yards away in any direction, he would have missed the deposit altogether. But, as Thorndike put it, and as every one of these stories can attest, “Luck is a large part of the story of oil and gas exploration.”
That first oil well produced a meager twenty-five barrels a day, but it was enough to begin the long process of ushering in the age of oil. It is perhaps another of those odd twists in the history of the American petroleum industry—an industry that through hubris or greed or human error has caused so much environmental mayhem—that the industry actually began with an environmental benefit. It can beargued in good faith that Drake’s discovery helped slow the steady extermination of the world’s dwindling whale population by making whale oil obsolete. It also permanently relegated natural gas to second-class status as a fuel.
Unlike natural gas, oil could be easily stored and easily transported in barrels—back then, whiskey barrels were used for the purpose—and not only could it be burned as a fuel, it could, like whale oil, be used as a lubricant. It was a watershed discovery. In barns and carriage houses all across America, enterprising inventors began tinkering with new kinds of
Bissell and Eveleth were convinced that kerosene was the fuel of the future, however, and they were sure that they could make a killing if only they could find the right man to go to Titusville and develop it on their behalf. The right man didn’t even have to have a background in science or engineering. The truth is, Bissell and Eveleth could not afford to pay for that kind of expertise. The only qualification they required was the one thing Drake brought to the table: a free train ticket to the woods of northwestern Pennsylvania.
Thus, in almost no time, Drake was the proud owner of a stake in the fledgling oil company and a brand-new title—one of the firm’s investors had, for reasons known only to that investor, taken to calling Drake “Colonel,” and even though he had never served a day in the military, the title stuck. He was on his way to Titusville.
In 1858, not long after he arrived in Titusville, Drake became the first to do what oilmen have done ever since. Using a derrick modified from the ancient Chinese cable tool technology and powered by a source that Drake knew a little something about—a steam locomotive engine he managed to persuade the investors to spring for—Drake drilled. And he drilled. And he drilled. And he failed. And he failed. And he failed. No matter how hard or fast the drill bit turned, the earth and rock and water that lay just beneath the surface closed back in around the borehole, slowing the drill, stalling it. It was as if the earth itself was trying to choke the world’s first oil well to death in its crib. His backers in Pittsburgh began to lose patience. But the sickly, dour former railroad man had one more idea that would become his greatest contribution to the world’s energy future, one that is still in use today: he painstakingly followed the drill bit, lining the hole with iron casings, holding back the earth, the stone, and the water, until his drill reached the targeted deposit of oil. He bored through the casing to a depth of 70 feet.
Oil did not rush up out of the ground. In fact, nothing happened. Shattered, Drake walked away. He came back the next morning—it was August 27, 1859—to find oil bubbling up into the well.
Given the primitive surveying techniques of the time, and the rudimentary understanding of geology, it was pure luck that Drake hit any oil at all. As author Virginia Thorndike noted in her 2007 book
LNG
, had Drake drilled a few yards away in any direction, he would have missed the deposit altogether. But, as Thorndike put it, and as every one of these stories can attest, “Luck is a large part of the story of oil and gas exploration.”
That first oil well produced a meager twenty-five barrels a day, but it was enough to begin the long process of ushering in the age of oil. It is perhaps another of those odd twists in the history of the American petroleum industry—an industry that through hubris or greed or human error has caused so much environmental mayhem—that the industry actually began with an environmental benefit. It can beargued in good faith that Drake’s discovery helped slow the steady extermination of the world’s dwindling whale population by making whale oil obsolete. It also permanently relegated natural gas to second-class status as a fuel.
Unlike natural gas, oil could be easily stored and easily transported in barrels—back then, whiskey barrels were used for the purpose—and not only could it be burned as a fuel, it could, like whale oil, be used as a lubricant. It was a watershed discovery. In barns and carriage houses all across America, enterprising inventors began tinkering with new kinds of
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