A True Samson

He was the first-born to Arthur Benton and Leva Mae Carriker in 1898. I never knew who named him or why they chose such a peculiar middle name, for it was truly a curious choice. I have never known or heard of any person outside of the Old Testament named “Samson.” Perhaps he had lusty strong lungs when he was born, orr maybe the person who named him thought it would inspire him to be a strong man. If that was the case then they were clairvoyant. By the time he was a young man his strength had earned him the nickname “Carriker's Jack,” suggesting that he was a strong as a male mule. That nickname was soon shortened to simply “Jack.” And he was strong – in more than physical strength. Those who knew him would readily agree that his strength of character more than matched his muscles. I knew him as “Dad.” but I never heard anyone call him anything but “Jack.” His dad took him out of school permanently soon after he learned how to read, write and “work with figures.” He took him “out into the world” to work alongside him in the oilfields of Texas. That lack of formal education has stopped many a lesser person dead in his tracks. It did not stop Dad, as you will soon see.

He was somewhere in his mid-forties at the time. WWII had ended fairly recently and all over the country the old machines and outdated ways that were okay before “The War” were no longer acceptable. The battle-cry was “NEW AND IMPROVED,” a mind-set that culminated a few years later in the somewhat snide advertising slogan “This isn't your father's Oldsmobile.” The “old,” whether it be an Oldsmobile or a lawnmower just wouldn't “cut it.” So it wasn't surprising that Sinclair Oil, the company for whom Dad worked decided to close down “Cobb Station,” a facility located a few miles east of town which housed six gigantic diesel engines.  Each of those engines was roughly the size of a railroad boxcar and each powered a pump that pushed crude oil through their pipelines towards its ultimate destination. It was a decision made by executives somewhere in offices far removed from the oil wells and pumping stations they governed, but it was a decision that would test my Dad's strength of mind and spirit to the limit.  Dad was now "Chief Engineer” working alongside a few other men who maintained those super-sized diesel engines and pumps. His company's decision to modernize was a gauntlet thrown down in front of him.

He  had begun working for “Sinclair” sometime around 1936 as a common laborer whose job title was “pipeliner.” His bosses took notice of his work ethic and perseverance and in 1940 promoted him into the company's machine shop located in Caney KS, to serve as an apprentice machinist. Instead of shovels and pick axes he was now working with micrometers, dividers, metal lathes, milling machines and other arcane tools of the machinist's trade. He had moved upward from common laborer to machinist in a space of little more than four years. I recall the day he proudly bought a full set of machinist's hand tools and a nice tool box in which to keep them. A few years later, when an opening came, Dad was chosen to work out at Cobb Station. It was a promotion in responsibility, title, and salary.  No longer just a "Machinist," he was now a "Chief Engineer."   He worked there happily for the next several months.

Then one day the news of the executives' decision to close the old diesel powered pumping station came down. In its place a new pumping station, whose pumps would be driven by electric motors no larger than one of today's compact cars, would be built. Dad was told that he could keep his job as “Chief Engineer” only if he could pass a written test over his knowledge of electrical currents, switches, motors, and control boards for which he would be responsible. The test would be given in six months. Should he fail the test or give up and say he wouldn't take it his future with the company was uncertain.

For the next six months I watched Dad sit at the kitchen table night after night studying technical manuals that would be daunting to many college students. The company provided only the manuals. The companyoffered no guidance,help, or tutoring. Perhaps he got outside help from some source, perhaps through earnest prayer, for he was righteous man who quietly practiced his faith in God. As he studied, the construction work on the “new” Cobb Station moved right along on schedule. The big diesel engines were soon to be forever silenced. They were antiques, dinosaurs. Before they ended their work Dad took the test that would determine his future. After taking it, had he known Latin, he could have said, as did Caesar, “Veni, Vidi, Vici.” He had came – to an impasse in his career – he had seen - what he must do – and he had CONQUERED. He was now a Chief Engineer in an all-electric pumping station.

That was in the late 1940's. As a footnote to his victory, when he retired in 1964, he was the ranking Chief Engineer at Cobb Station.  A multi-million dollar All-ELECTRIC Cobb Station was fully his responsibility.

I will admit that I never thought too much about my Dad's influence on me as I made my way through my career. Now in my old age I look back and know full well that it was his example that I followed through many challenges and problems. I leave it to others to decide whether I have been as successful as Dad. I simply know that Jack Carriker was truly a man of great strength – physically, morally, and spiritually. He persevered, and he prevailed.