The stock from which my family evolved was mostly Southern and most of them had little or no formal schooling.  But imbedded in the gene pool they created were genes that came to the fore in a very pronounced way in my Dad's personality.  Two of those genes could accurately be called "confidence" without braggadocio and "drive" without guile or cruelty to others.  

My Grandpa took my Dad out of school when he completed the 8th Grade.  His schooling was in a one-room school in the Ozarks near a now-gone hamlet called Carrolton AR.  Dad was the oldest son and by the time he was fourteen he had a number of younger brothers and sisters.   As happened quite often in that part of America in the early 20th Century it was the older child’s or children’s responsibility to contribute in whatever way they could to the support of the family.  So when Dad was around fifteen he accompanied his Dad to Texas where they worked as common laborers in the oilfields.  Although Grandpa didn’t make any attempt to learn new skills my dad learned the craft of “Blacksmithing” and the skill of being a Teamster (Not the Jimmy Hoffa kind who drive trucks) working with both large draft horses and mules.

Dad met, courted and married my Mother during the years he worked in the Texas oilfields.  Mother’s parents were operating a “boarding house” providing “bed and board” to the men who worked in those fields.   Dad set his sights on an attractive young girl and demonstrating the perseverance that shown through often in his life he wooed her away from a couple of other suitors.   They lived for a year or so in a tent with a board floor (not uncommon where they were) for a little over a year.  The oilfield work was by then beginning to play out.  Dad took Mother, by now pregnant with their second child, and oldest son back to Arkansas.  He provided a living for his growing family by “hacking ties,” a process involving felling trees and then trimming and shaping them into railroad ties: all handwork.  It was brutally hard work but Dad had proven himself several times to be an exceptionally strong young man.  He was, in fact, given the nickname of “Carriker’s Jack,” which was soon shortened to “Jack” because he had a reputation of being as strong as a “Jack,” which is what a male mule is called.

He later moved his family to the oilfields around Drumright OK where he worked steadily as a blacksmith or teamster.  He had no trouble staying employed until 1929.   When Wall Street crashed it destroyed the livelihood of thousands of semi-skilled and unskilled workers.  Dad was among those thousands.  For the next five or six years he worked at whatever he could find whenever he could find it to provide for his family.  It was an exceedingly difficult life for Dad, Mother, and their now-six kids.  (I being the sixth and youngest.)  

Sometime around 1937 Dad was hired by the Sinclair Oil Company as a “pipeliner” which was their euphemism for a common laborer who was required to travel to where work was anywhere within the pipeline system of that company.  It kept him away from home for weeks at a time but he was able to provide a steady, although pitifully small, income for his family.  As a pipeliner Dad kept his eyes and ears open seeking to understand the full gamut of what was going on around him as he worked.  In other words, he was doing everything he could to learn how to better himself.  

His efforts did not go unnoticed.  He caught the attention of one of Sinclair’s higher-up supervisors.  In 1939 that supervisor, a Mr. Reed, asked Dad if he thought he could learn the skill of being a machinist.  Sinclair operated a huge maintenance and repair facility in Caney KS.  Although Dad had never held a micrometer, operated a metal lathe or any other tools used by machinists he didn’t hesitate a moment before thanking Mr. Reed for the opportunity and saying “Yes,” I can.”

Dad moved us then to the small town of Caney KS where he began working in Sinclair’s machine shop.  I was with he and Mother the day he went to the “Sears” store in a nearby larger town to buy a machinist’s type tool box and some rudimentary tools he would be learning to use.  Even at my young age I could see how proud he was when he bought those things.  They were sort of a badge of honor to him.  The “shop” happened to be just across the street from where I was attending grade school.  One day he asked me to come over and have lunch with him and his friends.  (All of us carried sack lunches.)  It was a great occasion for both of us.  We ate our lunch rather hurriedly and then he took me around the shop showing me the lathes, milling machines, and other tools he used in his work.  

Sinclair also operated a large oil pumping station about three miles east of Caney.  It pumped the crude oil through the pipelines running from the oil fields to the refineries.  The pumps were powered by diesel engines truly as big as a small house.   After being in the Machine Shop a few years his boss began sending him out to that station from time to time to help the resident workers troubleshoot or fix problems with the engines and pumps.   Although he had never worked on or studied diesel engines he was a gifted “natural” mechanic who learned quickly.  Within a couple of years he was given a raise in pay and made a permanent member of the crew that ran “Cobb Station” (as it was called).  It’s four mammoth diesel engines were so large that when they were all running full tilt we could hear them in town.

Within a year or so Dad had taken a written exam given by the company and was promoted to the level of “Master Machinist” with a commensurate increase in pay.   Dad loved it and was well respected by the men with whom he worked.  Then – in the early 1950’s new technology was emerging.   Sinclair Oil Company executives decided to convert “Cobb Station” into an all electric pumping stations.  Electric motors that could put out the same horsepower as one of the diesel engines at lower cost, less space, less maintenance and fewer workers.   They began building a new Cobb Station just a couple of hundred yards south of the old one.  Obviously this could be a death knell to Dad’s position as Master Machinist.   

Dad had, however, created a reputation for himself with his superiors.  One day the regional supervisor came to Dad and said that he could keep his position as Master Machinist at the new station if he could pass a written test covering “the care, operation, and maintenance” of an all electric pumping station.   He told Dad that he would give him all the manuals and such that would enable him to pass the test if Dad could read and understand what was in those books and manuals.   He told Dad he would give him six months to study before taking the test.

It is relevant to keep in mind that Dad went no further than 8th Grade in a country school.  I was old enough by then to watch Dad.  He would work his normal eight-hour shift at the station then come home, have his supper and relax for a while.  But I clearly remember him studying at our kitchen table practically every night for six months.   At the end of those months he took the test and passed it.  He was assigned to the new Cobb Station.  When the old station shut down he was one of only a handful of men who were transferred.  

He worked at the new station as a Master Machinist for several years.  When the Chief Engineer of the station retired Dad was promoted to that position.  He completed his work life and retired at 65 years of age as Chief Engineer of a highly technical, multi-million dollar oil pumping station.  He was a man to be admired.  A man who had endured terrible adversity during The Depression, had suffered through having one of his sons Killed in Action in World War II and worked hard his entire life when lesser men would have surrendered.  

He died in 1972 after having seen all of his children become productive citizens.  Two of his sons earned graduate degrees at a university, another became Resident Manager in Columbia for a major pipeline company and the fourth one become a Supervisor at McDonnell-Douglas Aircraft Company in St.Louis.