California’s biggest oil spill in decades brings more defiance than anger
McKITTRICK — Near the jagged western edge of Kern County, where the Temblor Range gives way to a landscape of steam pipes, fuel lines and bobbing pump jacks, there’s a definite mood in this dusty little oil town: defiance.
Hardly a day goes by without reports of the growing oil leak in nearby Cymric oil field. So far, more than 900,000 gallons of oil and brine have oozed from a Chevron Corp. well and filled a dry creek, creating a hazardous black lagoon.
The residents of McKittrick, population 145, understand why people are upset by the images. Also, there’s no avoiding the worry that prolonged exposure to crude oil might one day trigger health issues.
But judging from the rowdy talk over cold beers and a blaring jukebox at Mike and Annie’s Penny Bar — a watering hole for thirsty oil field hands that has over a million pennies glued to the bar, floors, walls, television and entrance — the locals see a different story playing out.
“Environmentalists have it all wrong,” argued Troy Smith, 46, an oil field worker who grew up in the area. “Compared with the catastrophic Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska and BP’s deep-sea spill in the Gulf of Mexico, our little outbreak is nothing. Yet, they’re using it as an excuse to shut down California’s oil industry and wipe us out.
“What more do they want?” he asked no one in particular. “We already work under the strictest standards imaginable, and adhere to them tooth and nail.”
Smith, like many others in McKittrick, was more worried about how the largest California spill in nearly three decades would affect election campaigns and new oil industry legislation in Congress and the state Legislature.
When Gov. Gavin Newsom, who has taken a more anti-oil stance than his predecessor, former Gov. Jerry Brown, ventured to the spill site for a firsthand look Wednesday, the sarcastic response heard across town was, “There goes the neighborhood.”
But the future of California’s billion-dollar oil industry was already being shaped by shifting political winds, building concerns about toxic emissions from oil and natural gas production, development of alternative energy facilities and a recent overhaul of the California Division of Oil, Gas and Geothermal Resources, or DOGGR, the state’s primary oil regulatory agency.
“California can put a stop to the inevitability of oil spills by intentionally transitioning away from oil extraction,” said Kathryn Phillips, director of Sierra Club California. “The state must prioritize our public health and our environment over corporate polluters’ profits.”
That kind of talk raises hackles in the southern end of the San Joaquin Valley, where oil is an economic and cultural force crucial to the lives of thousands of people.
When retiree Raul Rubio, 67, wants to relax, he leans back in a folding chair in his backyard facing an oil field that is miles long and miles wide. The scenery is perfect for sifting through memories of the 40 years he worked as an oil field operator.
An odd sort of duality permeates his feelings about the ongoing oil spill roughly 3 1 ⁄2 miles from his modest wood-framed home.
On one hand, he can recall many industrial accidents over the years that could have had potentially devastating consequence. But he also appreciates the simpler, old-fashioned, slower pace of life.
About 12 years ago, a Cymric well blasted a mixture of oil and water so high that it traveled for miles in the wind. Gooey spots covered the town straddling a lonely stretch of Highway 33 like leopard spots.
“Chevron immediately took responsibility and fixed that well,” he recalled with a smile. “They also paid to clean our cars and property.”