A summer job — May 1960

Vertis, I’ve just finished my geology research paper, and after I turn it in and Dr. Quinn gives it an okay, we can head home.”

“Well, get it turned in. Our bank account is down to zero, and you’re going to have cereal for lunch. We’re broke.”

“Yeah, I know, but Mother sent us her Gulf Oil Credit Card where we’ll at least have gasoline to get home.”

I’m thinking about this last semester when we both tried to attend college while I worked part time. We made a big mistake in thinking both of us could go a college semester with $1,500 in the bank. The semester is over and the last few weeks were tough. Vertis has had to put items back at the grocery store checkout, and my check from work in the dining hall, the museum and the bookstore work was just enough to get by on.

Well, I’m sitting in the outer office while Dr. Quinn is reading over my paper, and he’s just called me into his office.

“Richard, it’s good … but you left out some references and your spelling and punctuation isn’t up to snuff. Here, go back and rewrite and bring it back tomorrow.”

“What? We can’t stay another day in Fayetteville eating cereal!” Vertis just yelled at me.

“Well, I’ve got to have those three hours of credit, so we don’t have a choice.”

Yeah, I’m smiling now as I look at the “A” Dr. Quinn has just scrawled on my paper. We’ll be heading south in a few minutes.

We have just pulled up in our old, ‘54 green Ford, and gosh, mother has a pot roast, carrots and potatoes on the table. We’re trying to act nonchalant, but when mother says, “Would you like to have dinner now, or do you want to wait a while?” Of course, we both say, “Now.” And I know mother is wondering why we’re eating everything in sight.

It’s the next morning and as I walk out, I whisper to Vertis, “I’ve got to find a summer job or we can’t go back to school.”

“I know, and I’m going to work full time,” she says.

It’s been almost a week, and I have been in every place in El Dorado looking for a summer job, but I’ve been turned down so often I’m really depressed. I’m thinking about going to see Charlie Murphy, the head of Murphy Oil. Over the last few years, after my dad was killed in a car wreck, he’s advised and helped me. I know Murphy doesn’t hire summer workers, but he may know a company that does. I know he’ll take time to talk with me, but I’ve about given up, and I’m thinking about trying to mow yards, or do just about anything.

“Hi Richard, come in and have a seat. How was your first semester of graduate school? Did you make your grades?”

“It was fine, and I made straight A’s.”

We’ve been talking about 30 minutes, and Charlie has asked if I have been to see about a dozen companies, which I have, and I’m about to leave.

“Yes, sir, I’ve been to everyone you mentioned, but thanks for taking time to talk with me.”

I’m heading for the door when he says, “Just a minute, Richard”… there’s a long pause, and Charlie says, “I think ODECO is putting on a crew of roustabouts for the summer. Would you mind working offshore?”

“No sir, who do I talk to about the job?”

“Go to the ODECO office in New Orleans and talk with the personnel director, Jerry Sanders.”

“Yes, sir! Thanks Charlie; I’ll head down there first thing in the morning.”

The old, green Ford has made it to New Orleans, but I can tell something is wrong. The motor is missing, and I’m thinking it’s going to need some new points, plugs or maybe even a fuel pump.

“I’m Richard Mason, from El Dorado, and I’m here to apply for a job on the new roustabout crew. Could I see Mr. Jerry Sanders?”

“Certainly, young man; let me get Mr. Sanders.”

“You drove all the way down here from El Dorado? Well, we’re not hiring anyone right now. By the way, who told you we were going to hire a roustabout crew?”

Yeah, I’m really upset, but I mumble, “Mr. Charlie Murphy.”

“Mr. Charlie Murphy of Murphy Oil? Well, let me check on that. Murphy owns 50 percent of ODECO.”

It’s been about 10 minutes and Mr. Sanders just walked back in. “Well, Richard, I was wrong. We are hiring. You’ll work 12 hours a day for 14 days in a row, and then you’ll have a week off …When can you go to work?”

“Uh, well, I guess, tomorrow.”

“Okay, a physical first, and you need a hard hat, some steel toed boots and work clothes.”

Gosh, the physical went great, and I’m now an employee of ODECO.

I’m having trouble starting the old, green Ford … but now it kicked off and I’m pulling onto Canal Street and six lanes of traffic and the old Ford is coughing and almost dying at every red light … damn, it’s dead and I’m about to run the battery down … I’d better try and push it across the two lanes of traffic to the curb ….

“Hey, feller…you need a push?”

I’m looking back, and right behind me is a guy in an old pickup truck.

“That would be great!” I push in the clutch, put the old Ford in second, and give him a wave. We’re moving along pretty good and I just let off the clutch … it started! I’m waving thanks, and heading down Canal. I’m not going to stop at red lights, so I just weave through honking cars and head out of town. The old Ford is chugging and I mean chugging, and as I pull up on the causeway I’m praying it won’t stop for the next 18 miles, and it doesn’t, and I’m nearly to Alexandria … but I’m pulling over … it’s dead. I’m convinced I need a new fuel pump, and I remember driving by a junk yard a mile of so back. I’m thinking, the only chance I have to get this car running is to get another fuel pump and not a new one. When you are driving an old car, you keep tools handy. I’ve walked the mile back to the junk yard with my old fuel pump under my arm, and now I’m walking down a row of wrecked cars with the owner.

“Hey, here’s one. Let me look under the hood … hmm, yeah, the fuel pump is okay. I’ll let you have it for $5, but you’ll have to take it off.”

Well, its 20 minutes later, and I’m walking back to my car with an old fuel pump under my arm.

Now, pour a little gasoline in the carburetor and cross my finger … “Hey! It started!”

It’s about 2 a.m., and I have just pulled up in front of my mother’s house where we’re staying.

“Vertis,” I whisper, as I slip into bed, “I got a job. We can go back to college this fall.”