Chapter 4
301 RED OAK AVE., ELZA, TEXAS
10:45 a.m., Sunday November 16, 1941
There are few people in this world with the patience of Murdock Rose. Twenty-five years in the oil fields will do that to a man. Contrary to popular belief, you won’t get oil by simply stabbing a pipe in the East Texas soil. Sometimes it takes weeks and even months of drilling to get anything up, and that’s if you’re lucky. More often than not you find yourself picking up and moving on to the next lease. Once, he recalled, they dropped fifty wells before hitting pay dirt, but it was worth it. That strike was one of the biggest since the old days when Kilgore had pump-jacks on the school playground. Of course, Murdock didn’t get a piece of it. He was a lowly roughneck in those days. He was lead-man on that rig, which was quite an honor since he was barely out of his teens, but he was a roughneck nonetheless, which meant that all he got were his simple wages. Unlike the company owners, landowners, leaseholders, and bankers who became millionaires off that one hole, he did the labor and only got a day’s pay.
It was a long hard road, but Murdock went from being a roughneck to manager of a region that covered a territory larger than the state of Rhode Island. As such, he could now get a piece of every hole drilled. Mind you, it was a very small piece of the pie, but in four or five years he’d retire quite comfortably. More importantly, Garvis was happy that he no longer came home smelling of sweat and crude. For over twenty years Murdock sank pipe, a job that had taken its toll on his back and had put a lot of good men in an early grave. Those days were over. Murdock rarely drew a bead of sweat these days. His white shirt was always crisply pressed, and his tie was never loose. And, thanks to Monroe’s Tailor Shop and Dry Cleaners, his suits were always clean and freshly creased, even in the brutal August heat. It didn’t hurt, of course, that he could now afford to drive a 1940 Cadillac complete with the miracle of weather-conditioning.
The Caddy was about the only luxury Murdock allowed himself. He had the unimaginable luck to stumble on it while in Houston for a manager’s meeting. It was a rare find. Murdock stopped in the Cadillac dealership because his old Ford spent more time being fixed than rolling. At least that’s how it seemed to Murdock. He really didn’t want a Cadillac. A Chevrolet or Buick would have suited him just fine, but Garvis insisted he needed an automobile that suited his station. Murdock didn’t care in the least about his “station,” but when he spotted the red Cadillac LaSalle through the showroom window, for some reason that now escaped his memory, he pulled the old Ford over and walked in.
The LaSalle, of course, was absolutely ridiculous and without question the worst possible automobile to use driving to and from oil fields. It was bright red with a shine you could comb your hair in and had a chromium hood ornament that looked like a shiny buck-naked angel in flight. After only five minutes in the dealership, Murdock came to his senses and started to walk out when the salesman mentioned those two magic words - “weather-conditioning.” According to the salesman, the automobile had been ordered straight from the factory for a rich oilman, but his wife hated the color and thus he refused to take delivery. Apparently, Cadillac red was not a deep enough tone to suit her sensibilities. That same salesman went on to say that this was the only Cadillac in all of Texas with weather-conditioning, a fact which Murdock Rose knew to be wholly untrue. Three of the board members of Powhatan Oil drove Cadillacs, and all three had weather-conditioning, a fact that Murdock did not hesitate to make known. Furthermore, it made no small commotion in the showroom when he proclaimed he was not about to purchase an automobile from a bold-faced liar.
He was back in his Ford with the motor running when the sales-manager, along with the dealership owner, convinced him to come back in and hear the apology from the salesman and re-consider buying the LaSalle. Murdock, by that point, had long since made up his mind that he wasn’t going to drive around East Texas in a hot automobile as long as one with weather-conditioning was sitting there available to him. His calling the salesman a liar simply served to point out to the salesman, his sales manager, and the dealership owner that he was well acquainted with three of the wealthiest men in Houston and was most certainly the only person who would walk in the dealership that day or even that week or maybe even that entire month who had the means to buy what was very possibly the most expensive automobile in all of Southeast Texas. Murdock ended up in a sit-down meeting with the owner of the dealership who, out of “his apologetic spirit,” took five hundred dollars off the asking price. That “apologetic spirit” naturally was nothing more than a bribe that hopefully would bring Murdock back to buy next year’s model, a bribe that had no chance of paying off. The Ford had served him well for over ten years, and if the Cadillac did anything less he would never consider buying another one.
So late that Friday evening, Murdock Rose cruised into Elza in weather-conditioned comfort. The automobile didn’t garner too much attention because by that time of night the streets were almost empty, which pleased Rose considerably. The only thing that caused him to have any hesitance of buying the LaSalle was that the blasted thing was such a bright red that from now on he would be the center of attention every time he so much as drove to church, a benefit that pleased Garvis well beyond his understanding.
Despite being worn out from the long drive up from Houston, he had to take Garvis for a ride as soon as he got into the driveway. He fully expected Jesse to come along, but he’d made the mistake of telling the boy that the Ford was sitting at the Cadillac dealership in Houston and it was his if he wanted to go down there and bring it back. Thirty minutes later Jesse and Clifford Tidwell were halfway to Conroe in that noisy coupe Cliff drove. They camped out somewhere along the way, and by lunchtime Saturday they had that old Ford on blocks in the driveway with the motor scattered in a hundred pieces all over the yard. By Monday morning those boys had that car running like it was brand new, a talent that Murdock was utterly unaware the two possessed. Had he known, to his wife’s chagrin, Murdock Rose would most certainly still be driving around town in an eleven-year-old Ford.
As much as Murdock liked the weather-conditioned Cadillac LaSalle, Garvis liked it at least ten times more. Murdock saw the weather-conditioning as simply an added perk, albeit a very nice one. Garvis rather, loved the fact that it was a Cadillac. And, more importantly, a LaSalle, the top of the Cadillac line. Even more importantly, it was bright red with lots of chromium, unlike the plain black Ford sedan. She loved the fact that every eye turned when they drove through town. As she had said more than once, “The Roses are the envy of every ‘dirt farmer’ in East Texas.” Whenever she said such things, Murdock would point out that those “dirt farmers” bought the petroleum that paid for the overpriced collection of bolts.
Murdock resented her condescension. His father and grandfather before him had at some point in their lives worked the fields. More importantly, had it not been for the oil boom, he himself would more than likely be picking cotton or herding cattle.
Garvis, however, was never put off by Murdock’s remarks. She didn’t like living in a small town, let alone one that didn’t have so much as a decent restaurant. When she married Murdock she never envisioned that they would spend their entire lives in tiny Elza. Her father, Horace McCracken Hamilton, God rest his soul, had been owner of the Hamilton Lumber Company and Timber Mill in Henderson, and as such did business with just about everyone in the oil fields.
One such oilman was Mr. Nehemiah Rice Nightingale, who had been President and General Manager of the Frelinghuysen-Nightingale Petroleum Company before he sold the company to the Powhatan Group in Houston, when it became Powhatan Oil. Mr. Nightingale was a wealthy man long before he sold Frelinghuysen-Nightingale Petroleum but after the sale he was, for a time at least, very possibly the richest man in all of Texas, which was saying a great deal.
Mr. Nightingale also happened to like betting on the horse races at Fairgrounds racetrack down in New Orleans. I
n the early 1920’s, Garvis’s father desperately needed to lock up a lumber contract with Mr. Nightingale, so he arranged a little trip to the track. Horace McCracken Hamilton made a huge event of the little junket, as he called the trip, by arranging for no less than three private rail cars complete with sleeping berths, a cook, and a free-flowing bar. That was no small feat, considering it was the beginning of Prohibition and would have landed all of them in jail if caught. Thus, no less than a thousand dollars was invested to ensure that the railroad conductor kept any passengers from knowing what was going on in the back of the train.
The alcohol was the easy part. Garvis’s father supplied lumber to the Whittlesey Brothers and - though it was only rumored, but Garvis knew it to be a fact - he also supplied grain and cane sugar for the Brothers. The Whittleseys operated stills all over East Texas, and some people claimed that they were at least partly responsible for the grain alcohol that kept New Orleans’ infamously decadent Vieux Carrie lubricated during those times.
Garvis’s role on the excursion was to help serve Mr. Nightingale’s needs - most specifically to make sure that his liquor glass stayed full. But her real purpose, at least according to her mother, Mrs. Horace McCracken Hamilton, was to make sure that her father didn’t get so drunk that he began saying insulting or offensive remarks to one of the most important oil men in all of Texas.
Mr. Nightingale accepted the invitation, and though it was specifically stated that the invitation extended only to him and his immediate family, the oilman chose to bring along a dozen of his drinking buddies. One of those buddies was a young, tall roughneck named Murdock Rose whose family, Nightingale bragged, had been in Texas all the way back to the Alamo. An honor only a true Texan could appreciate. Garvis’s father, though, was not at all impressed with the man’s pedigree; the Hamiltons had been Texans back in the days of the Republic when Horace’s great-grandfather had migrated from Louisiana. As far as Hamilton was concerned, Mr. Rose, like all of the men Nightingale had brought along, was not invited, and thus they were enjoying a very expensive vacation at Hamilton’s expense.
Unlike her father, Garvis was awe-struck by the tall young man. First, because he was rugged and very good looking, but also because she had heard Nightingale remark more than once that Mr. Rose was a natural oil man and would someday be running Frelinghuysen-Nightingale Petroleum.
So naturally as they made the long trip to New Orleans, young Garvis made every effort to get to know this young man who was destined to become Texas’ next tycoon.
Murdock, however, showed little interest in the girl, regardless of how much effort she took to make herself look irresistible to him.
Garvis naturally had no clue that Murdock was way out of his element. Up to this point in his life he had never so much as been on a train, let alone in a private car. As a matter of fact, he had never traveled more than fifty miles from Nacogdoches, where he grew up. Nightingale insisted that he come along and “help spend this lumberjack’s money.” That meant he had to go out and spend a week’s wage on a suit of clothes since his wardrobe amounted to a half-dozen work shirts, two pair of work pants, and one well-worn pair of bibbed-overalls.
Garvis also did not know that although Murdock’s great-grandfather had in fact been at the Alamo, he had been the only one of our brave heroes to run away from the battle; thus, instead of going out in glory, he brought nothing but shame on his family. This family disgrace was something of which Murdock mysteriously seemed unaffected. Of course once they were married Garvis was reminded of it every time she had to write her last name. Unaware of Murdock’s family’s humiliation and the fact that he was not a tycoon in the making, Garvis fell head-over-heels in love long before they got anywhere near New Orleans.
During their day at the track where, as her father later said, “Nightingale and his boys tried to gamble away the lumber mill,” she made every effort to look her best and was rarely more than a few feet away from Mr. Rose.
It wasn’t until that night that he showed any real interest in her at all. Mr. Nightingale insisted that they have dinner at The O’Dwyer Brother’s Original Southport Club despite the fact that Hamilton had arranged for a steak dinner to be prepared back on the train. Nevertheless, at Mr. Nightingale’s insistence they all hopped into some Packard limousines and headed to this “restaurant.” Had her father known that The Original Southport Club was in reality a notorious speak-easy and casino, there was no way he would have allowed his “precious princess” to come along.
The “restaurant” was a large, beautiful old home on Monticello Avenue and sat at a bend in the river surrounded by other such homes. Behind the house was a lovely garden with fountains and waterfalls and a spectacular view of the Mississippi. As they walked in the door, Nightingale explained that although the business was totally illegal, there was little risk of a raid because of the relationship the owners had with certain members of the local law enforcement and government. He said that it was not unusual to see Senators and even movie stars at the tables. Sure enough, they were there less than five minutes before someone pointed out Fatty Arbuckle playing roulette.
Horace Hamilton was in a bit of a quandary; he had to take care of Nightingale’s whims, regardless of how costly, but he could not tolerate his daughter sitting around in a speak-easy with the Jezebels that he saw hanging on the arms of the fools gambling away their hard-earned money. Thus he asked Murdock if he would be so kind as to sit outside in the gardens with Garvis while he tried to keep Nightingale from spending what was left of her dowry. Hamilton had recognized his daughter’s infatuation with Murdock almost as soon as they had left Henderson. Had the young man been like any of the other oil stains that Nightingale had brought along, he would have made sure that Garvis was kept a safe distance away. But Mr. Rose was considerably different from those other gentlemen. For one thing he had the hands of a man who worked for a living. The others in the group appeared to be accountants and lawyers, but not this man. This was a young man who earned his living through hard work. More importantly, he was a man who showed considerable promise. Nightingale was not the kind of man to toss around compliments lightly; if he said Rose would go far in the oil business, he would probably do so. More importantly, he probably wouldn’t have invited the young man along if he didn’t expect him to be very important one day.
For Garvis it couldn’t have worked out any better. Not only did she get out of that smoky gambling hall, she got to sit on a beautiful terrace on a lovely spring evening alone with what might possibly be the most eligible young man in the oil industry. Unfortunately, the most eligible young man in the oil industry didn’t say a single word for the first half-hour they were out there. As a matter of fact, he did almost everything he could possibly do to keep from even looking at her. Every time she spoke he would look at her for a long moment and then give a one-word answer and quickly turn his head away.
Garvis had all but given up when after at least ten-minutes of silence he asked, “Would you like to go to the movies with me sometime?”
Hooked.
Little did she realize that he had wanted to ask from the moment he first laid eyes on her. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful in his life. Girls who look like her did not come out to the oilrigs. More importantly, they didn’t date roughnecks, and he was a lowly roughneck. Still, she was more stunning than any woman he had ever met.
It took no time at all to reel him in. He was love-struck. He just didn’t know it. Garvis had spent a year at SMU and knew all too well how to bring in a catch, and Murdock Rose was as easy a catch as ever there was. Three months later, in June of 1920, Horace McCracken Hamilton walked her down the aisle at the South Main Baptist Church of Henderson, Texas.
Otherwise, the junket to New Orleans had not proven all too successful. Hamilton watched four thousand dollars go to the roulette tables at the O’Dwyer brother’s club and not one thin dime of Frelinghuysen-Nightingale Petroleum money ca
me back his way. As he often liked to point out, “All I got out of that train ride was a dead-beat son-in-law.”
Of course, Murdock Rose was no dead-beat. Granted, contrary to what Horace McCracken Hamilton felt he had been led to believe, Rose was a long way from wealthy. Nevertheless he had a good job and managed to save a little from each paycheck, despite sending money back to his elderly parents. Which, as it turned out was considerably more than Horace Hamilton ever did.
Less than a month after they were married the Henderson Star reported that Hamilton had, in fact, been supplying cane sugar and grain from his timber leases to an enormous boot-legging operation and, after a subsequent raid on Hamilton Lumber Company and Timber Mill, no less than six hundred gallons of the Whittlesey’s top grain whiskey was found hidden behind stacks of two-by-fours. Notoriety such as a bootlegging arrest would send most businessmen over the edge, but not Horace McCracken Hamilton. In fact, in some social circles in Texas, an arrest for bootlegging was a badge of honor. Unfortunately, though, the enormity of the liquor raid led to a United States Treasury investigation of Hamilton Lumber Company and Timber Mill finances. The Treasury investigators learned, and later proved in a subsequent raid, that the highly respected Mr. Hamilton was not only involved in bootlegging but also had significant financial dealings with a number of houses of ill-repute throughout East Texas and Louisiana. Still, such a reputation did not bring down Horace Hamilton. His father and grandfather before him had earned a good, if not completely respectable, living in that same industry. No, what brought him down was the fact that, unlike his son-in-law, he himself was a dead-beat. He had outstanding loans with banks all over the state. In fact, though he had once joked to Murdock about Nightingale gambling away what was left of Garvis’s dowry, Hamilton had already done just that. The fifteen thousand dollars he spent on the junket to the Fairgrounds (plus about four thousand for Nightingale’s evening at the tables) had been the last of a near two hundred thousand dollar line of credit, all of which had been lost to failed business deals. The Frelinghuysen-Nightingale Petroleum contract, which, as it turned out, never materialized, was a last ditch effort to save the lumber company. Worse still, according to the United States Treasury investigators, Horace McCracken Hamilton had been cheating on his Federal taxes almost from the day that the tax bill was passed in 1913.
That Night at the Palace Page 7
