She was the daughter of an oil man, grew up in the Grass Creek oil field – playing among the pumpjacks and dancing at the one-room school house in the early part of the 1900’s.
This student of the land was truly a pioneer of Hot Springs County, Wyoming.
The Pioneers of Outlaw Country.
Cowboys, Lawmen and Outlaws… to the businessmen and women who all helped shape Thermopolis and Hot Springs County, Wyoming.
Here are their stories.
Elizabeth McCrady Nuhn, Daughter of Oil
Armed with rifles, and wearing masks, three men, self-proclaimed vigilantes, “compelled” a large number of claim jumpers to evacuate the camps they had established illegally.
It was 1917 and a new era of outlaws had taken over the Wild West.
Oil had been discovered and men flocked to the remote outposts of Wyoming in search of the black gold. Businessmen, such as Martin McGrath, a founding father of Thermopolis, and former outlaws like Elzy Lay of the Hole-in-the-Wall gang, joined in the hunt for the liquid treasure.
Aspiring oil men partnered up with others to jump claims and grab up any potential land. Imprecise surveys helped to create chaos as claims overlapped. Competing parties spied on each other, climbing ridges and watching through binoculars. Once a claim had been staked, rivals would sneak out under the cover of darkness and move the stakes. They would then erect buildings to legitimize their claim jumping.
By 1908, a successful oil well had been drilled in Grass Creek and more were soon to follow. Families began moving into the oil camp, building close knit communities with schools and churches mingling with the saloons and pool halls. The Mineral Leasing Act of 1920 put an end to claim jumping and civility moved in. Wives formed Community Circles and children entertained themselves in the rocky hills and among the oil fields.
Elizabeth McCrady grew up in the oil fields and they were the happiest years of her life.
In 1918, her father, George McCrady first arrived in Grass Creek in an overland stage. He said that the terrain was the driest that he had ever seen, and it was covered with sagebrush. It looked terribly bleak, and he promised himself that he would only stay one year and then he would return to the East. He retired as Superintendent of the Ohio Oil company in 1948.
“Grass Creek was always home to me,” Elizabeth recalled, “and I loved it. It was my oasis in the desert. I loved the sunsets, the mountains, but most of all I loved the people who lived there. They were warm, kind, honest, hard-working, fun-loving people. I have kept in touch with many of them for more than fifty years.”
She was a young girl of three when her family moved to Grass Creek and her first memory is sitting on her Dad’s lap as he tied her shoe laces. Then she was bundled up in a coat and carried out and put me in their old Model T Ford.
“We finally stopped in front of a log house that was dark. Suddenly, there was a banging of tin pans and much noise. A light finally came on in the house, and a young couple was brought out and put in the back of an old truck. The honking of horns and rattling of pans continued as the procession followed the truck with the newlyweds to an amusement hall where a dance was held. The young couple were Lloyd and Faye Robbins. That was my first and last chivaree.”
Another incident that stands out vividly in Elizabeth’s mind was the first and only gusher she ever saw. Her dad had told her mother, Kathryn, that a well they were drilling about a fourth of a mile from our house was going to blow at a certain time.
“My mother gathered us at the window and we waited. Suddenly, just like Old Faithful the black OIL gushed out of the ground and blew higher, higher and higher into the air. The wind carried the oil through the air and a fine spray of oil covered our window pane. It was one of the most memorable and exciting events of my life, and I can remember it as if it had happened yesterday.”
One of the most memorable trips of her early life in Grass Creek was when she was in the second grade.
“My parents decided that we would go to Pahaska Lodge for a Sunday excursion and have our dinner. This trip was made in a Model T Ford. The road from Cody to Pahaksa was very narrow so if one med a car coming in the opposite direction, one of the cars would have to back up until there was room to pass. When we arrived at the lodge, we ate our dinner. My mother kept asking the waitress what kind of meat was on the menu. She said that she didn’t really know. When we had finished our meal, the waitress asked my mother, “Would you really like to know what kind of meat you ate?”
“Of course,” replied my mother.
“It was bear meat,” she replied. “It was killed by a hunter out of season so it was given to the lodge.”
We all agreed that it was a coarse sweet meat – not especially tasty!”
Even simply playing near home could be dangerous if you lived on an oil field. One day, the boys, including Elizabeth’s brother, John, found a perfect swimming hole. It was a big tank near a power house filled with water.
Their dad got wind of this daily exercise and did not want to try his first aid on a dying swimmer. His remedy was to cover the top of the water with black oil. What a surprise and disappointment for the boys when they arrived the next day to their skinny dipping!
Grass Creek also had a famous band – almost as good as Tommy Dorsey’s, according to Elizabeth. It was composed of Lois Farr on piano; her brother John McCrady on saxophone; Darrel Oliver and Oscar Snyder were the drummers; and Phil McClure on trombone.
Saturday night dances were really fun times and events the entire community looked forward to. Everyone put on their best finery and made their way to the amusement hall which had eventually replaced the school house for dances.
The little kids, like the ones in the Virginian, were put to bed on benches in the balcony.
“I remember that our neighbors, the St. Clairs had a family of six children,” Elizabeth said. “One night after they arrived home from the dance they found that one was missing. When they rushed back to the dance, they found that this little one had become sleepy and crawled in bed with one of the other children whose folks had made a bed for them on the balcony.”
Saturday night dances were where the community members learned to do the polka, waltz, square-dance, two step, and more. Neal Ricken and his sister could do the Charleston and all the modern steps better than any Broadway star.
At midnight, everyone went to the basement of the amusement hall and had coffee, cake, pickles, and sandwiches. They were always starved after so much exercise, and the food was delicious.
One nice thing about Grass Creek, is it was close to a lot of beautiful picnic areas. On Sundays, the McCrudy family would put their goodies together and to with four or five other families on a picnic.
“We were also close to the rimrocks. This gave us an opportunity to have fun mountain climbing. I remember one Thanksgiving we had an Indian summer. We hiked up the mountains to do our climbing. We had roasted hot dogs, marshmallows, and had climbed like mountain goats over the rocks all afternoon. We decided it was time to come home, and as I stepped down on a ledge about four inches wide my ankle turned and I fell about twenty feet. It knocked me out for a few minutes and took all the skin off the one side of my face as I slid down the solid rock. The worst part was that I had a black eye for a month, and my teachers would tease me and say, “I know that old story – “You bumped into a door nob!”
Grass Creek may have been small but they were very proud of their school. “We had the first superior county school in the State of Wyoming,” Elizabeth said. “One of the things I remember best was that Alma Robbins and I were competitors. She and I went through every one of the Arithmetic Studebaker Drills when we were in the fourth grade, and there were trillions of them – but we did them all!”
Every kid in Grass Creek would agree that the most fun place in all the world was the Ralph Robbin’s farm. That was because they were able to play blind man’s bluff and a lot of the rowdy games that most of the other parent’s would not have tolerated.
Mr. Robbins was the biggest kid of all, and he is remembered for his hearty laugh. They made homemade ice cream every day in the summer, and they had a variety of yummy toppings that they shared with the children. The Robbins had a player piano that the oil field kids would take turns playing and everyone would join in to sing along.
Since it was a working farm, the family had horses. John and Elizabeth’s favorite was Old Rosie. She was a gently old horse, and sometimes John would take her and ride the hills all day. Sometimes, Elizabeth would ride with the Robbin girls, Alma, Lois and Georgia, to the L.U. Ranch or the Dickie Ranch. If they were lucky, the cook at the Dickie ranch would sometimes give them a hot fresh doughnut.
“I remember one night that I was at Robbins and I could see dust in the distance. I said, “What’s that dust?”
The girls replied that they were bedding the sheep for the night.
“How do they do that?” I asked
“They just knock their feel out from under them,” they replied.
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
The next night when I saw Mr. Robbins, he laughed loudly and asked, “How do you bed sheep, Liz!”
It was only then that I knew I had been very gullible.”
One of the best sports Elizabeth ever learned was from Jack and Marie Francis. She was in the seventh grade when they taught her to play tennis. Jack had made a super black-topped tennis court and miniature golf course which he encouraged everyone to use.
Every night after dinner, they would congregate on the tennis court and most of his protégé’s became good players. In fact, in Elizabeth’s senior year at the University of Nebraska she placed second with her partner, Virginia Swartz. This accomplishment she owed to Jack and Marie Francis and Zeke, the barber who was a tennis pro, and the practice every night on the Grass Creek Tennis court.
“I also remember that we had a fine doctor who imbibed very frequently, and even when he had a bit too much, he could still diagnose one’s case. He kept his bottles of ginger ale on the steps in back of the hospital. To most people they were quite concealed. However, my brother John and his friend discovered this. When they would get very thirsty, they often borrowed one of the bottles of ginger ale to quench their thirst. They kept this secret very well so the doctor wouldn’t miss too many and other kids wouldn’t discover their favorite drinking place.”
“I had one traumatic experience in Grass Creek that left an impression of fear on my life as I was growing up. My Dad had a tool dresser by the name of Floyd. He was young and very handsome and had taken an older man’s girl. One day Burt came while my Dad and Floyd were working on the rig, and Burt was going to fight about the girl. My dad told him to go on home; he and Floyd could settle their affairs after work. That night Floyd’s bunk house was blown up. My father was one who was called to testify against Burt. Burt was convicted and sent to prison.
One day one of the fellows from the bakery who delivered bakery goods to the prison saw Burt there. He slipped a note into the pans as the man left the prison. The note said that when he got out, he intended to get every S.O.B. who testified against him. The Ohio Oil Company kept the note, and when he trial would come up, they would present the note. Burt was not paroled from the prison, but as a little girl, I would often awaken in the night and worry about his getting out of prison and killing my father.
One of the characters I remember most when I was growing up was a pumper by the name of Fred Devereaux. Each day at noon he brought a slop to my father on an oil report. He was bundled up in overalls, a big coat, and overshoes. No matter whether it was a blizzard, raining, or hailing, he always said, “Fine day, Mac.”
One day when he came, it was a good old Wyoming blizzard. The wind was howling and my dad could scarcely get the door open to let him in.
He said, “Find day today, Mac.”
My dad looked him straight in the eye and said, “Fred, you know you’re a damn liar.”
Fred chuckled and made his way back out into the storm.
Probably the most wonderful time of the year in Grass Creek was Thanksgiving and Christmas. Most people had not close relatives so families congregated together for the holiday dinners and fun.
I remember going with dad up Enos Creek to get our Christmas tree. We waded in snow up to our waists. We also brought back trees for our neighbors. Decorating the Christmas tree was always a special event at our house. Georgia got to put the star on the tree, I got to put up a little old Santa Claus that we had for years, and John had the most fun because he threw the icicles on the tree. Nevertheless, it always was the most beautiful tree in the world even if the decorations were a bit topsy.
My mother, Kate, was a superb Indiana farm girl cook. She never used a recipe; it was always a pinch of this or a little bit of that. We always had turkey, two kinds of dressing – one oyster and one plain – mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberries, pickled peaches, fruit salad, fruit cake, pumpkin pie, mince pie, ice cream, cake, all kinds of stuffed dates and candies. But best of all she made the best Parker House rolls in the whole world.
The young kids sat at the kitchen table and had fun, and the older people at the dining room table. After an afternoon of visiting everyone went to the amusement hall for the most exciting event of all – the Christmas dance.
Grass Creek, Wyoming, an oasis in the valley of the mountain, is still the place I call home. I often imagine myself sitting on the back steps of our house where the people lived that I loved most. I can see the tall steel girders of the rigs silhouetting the skies as the sun slips behind the peaks of the Owl Creek Mountains.
Lennie Shockly also remembered those years well when oil was first declared to be the new gold.
In the early days in Grass Creek, The Ohio Oil Co. used a team of horses and a small wagon to take men out in the field to clean pump rods. Even the ¾ ton white truck that hauled many a load looks queer today.
The only amusement we had, we made for ourselves.
The Company dining Hall was our Dance Hall, with local musicians. The tables were moved to one wall – Some tables turned upside down on other tables. Inside these upside down tables, the children were put to bed while their parents danced.
At 12 o’clock sharp dancing stopped. Every one pitched in and put things back in place and reset the tables.
Later we organized a literary society and had a variety of entertainment. We had debates, we put on plays and a very good Negro Minstrel directed by Alice Williams.
The Grass Creek School House was our meeting place.
Sometime in the 1920’s, I believe, the Ohio built a Community Hall. Our activities were put on there. First, with a silent movie that was well attended each week.
There were had Church Services, Extension Club Meetings and other large gatherings. Then when people started buying cars, they could get to Thermopolis for shows, lodge and other amusements.
I must not forget that we still played cards and put on some very fine parties.
Before we leave this oil field community in the past, we give you one last word from Elizabeth, “Since I left Grass Creek, I have traveled to many countries around the world and have seen many beautiful historic sights, but there are times that I feel lonesome and wish I could return to a place filled with love, peace and security – home – my home – Grass Creek, Wyoming. “
Thank you for listening to Pioneers of Outlaw Country. We are your hosts – Jackie Dorothy and Dean King.
