DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. Now, there are oil boom stories, and then there is Ranger, Texas — and Ranger doesn't much care which category you put it in. Pull up a chair.
Or, as you'll understand in a moment, rent one. October 1917. Out there a mile south of what was then a quiet little collection of a dozen or so houses, a well called McClesky No. 1 blew in.
Seventeen hundred barrels a day, gushing straight up out of the earth like the ground itself had been holding a secret and finally couldn't stand it anymore. That was the beginning. W.K.
Gordon — general manager of Texas Pacific Coal Company, a man who believed in drilling deep when other folks weren't so sure — he's the one who persuaded his company to make the venture. World War I had oil demand running high, and Gordon had a hunch. McClesky No. 1 was the answer to that hunch.
And then it just kept going. Later gushers came in at seven thousand barrels a day. Then eleven thousand.
The earth around Ranger was practically throwing money at people. Ten daily trains were rolling into town, packed not just in the seats but in the aisles and up on the tops of the coaches. People hanging on every surface like the trains themselves were part of the rush.
Those dozen or so houses? They became a city — drillers, suppliers, oil company offices stacking up faster than anybody could quite reckon. Now here's where the story gets truly something.
Living quarters were so scarce that the men working the day tour would climb out of bed, and the men coming off the graveyard tour would climb right into those same warm beds. Didn't even cool down between shifts. And if you couldn't get a bed?
You rented a chair. An overstuffed chair. To sleep in.
That was Ranger. For two rainy years — two whole years — the place was a sea of mud. Not the romantic kind of mud.
The kind that swallows a boot and doesn't give it back. So they ran a sled to taxi people across the streets. And if the sled wasn't available, well, there was a man in hip boots who would carry you piggyback.
Ranger, Texas: where a piggyback ride across the street was a legitimate mode of transportation. Food was hard to get. Prices were high.
And money was so plentiful that the forces of vice decided they'd like some of it. They moved in. Gamblers, vagrants, and worse.
After five murders occurred in a single day — one day — law officers had seen enough. They arrested many criminals and expelled the gamblers and vagrants. Ranger cleaned itself up, at least somewhat.
And here's what they say about what all that chaos produced: Ranger is said to have yielded in a single year twice the wealth of the best years of the California and Klondike gold fields combined. Twice. One year.
One roaring, muddy, overcrowded, overstuffed-chair-renting, piggyback-riding year in Ranger, Texas. The marker calls it a boom of high excitement and strategic importance. I'd say that's about right.
What the marker says
Boom of high excitement and strategic importance. When oil demand was high during World War I, Texas Pacific Coal Company general manager W.K. Gordon, a believer in deep drilling, persuaded his company to make the venture that started Ranger's oil boom at McClesky No. 1 (1 mi. S). This blew in, October 1917, as a 1700-barrels-a-day gusher. Later gushers yielded up to 7,000 and 11,000-barrels-a-day each. Ten daily trains brought in prospectors packed in the aisles or on tops of coaches. Ranger's dozen or so houses became a city of drillers, suppliers, oil company offices. Living quarters were so scarce that not only were beds of day-tour men occupied by the graveyard-tour men, but overstuffed chairs were also rented for sleeping. Food was hard to get and prices were high. For two rainy years, Ranger was a sea of mud. A sled taxied people across streets, or a man in hip boots carried them piggyback. However, money was plentiful, and forces of vice moved in. After five murders occurred in one day, law officers arrested many criminals and expelled gamblers and vagrants. Ranger's success overshadowed its troubles. It is said to have yielded in a year twice the wealth of best years in California and Klondike gold fields. (1967)