Skip Granger
One might think that I meant ”and Oil Wells made Three!”, but that would be incorrect. When I moved to Wichita at age 12, I made friends with a fellow my age at Robinson Intermediate School. By
the time we went to high school, Mike Elwell (left) and I had become best friends. However, he lived across Oliver Street, the dividing boundary line; so as a result, I went to East, and he went to the new Southeast.
I enjoyed oil painting and art, but was not much of a dancer. Mike offered to help me to dance better if I would help him with art. Well, I am still not much of a dancer, but Mike has become a noted sculptor and has his own studio in St.Petersburg, Florida. (Examples below) https://www.facebook.com/elwell.art
We both attended the University of Kansas and pledged Sigma Nu fraternity. In fact, I spoke with him yesterday since there was a Sigma Nu Reunion as a part of the KU Homecoming. We had a record of six members of our pledge class that graduated from KU law school, and we were both among them.
But that is not my story. Fast forward to the 1990’s. Mike had become a Kansas judge and was trying to pursue oil drilling in the Kansas oil patch. Unlike Texas, where you can really hit it big – if you are fortunate – in Kansas, it is easier to find oil, but it is not such large amounts. Mike ran into the hard times in the oil business and really needed some assistance. I was busily involved in providing venture funds to high tech companies in Silicon Valley and across the US.
Mike called and proposed a partnership since oil was at $40 a barrel and soon to hit $80. Mary Ann and I were preparing for our summer in Europe with our kids, and I had little interest in researching the oil business. Then Mike called and said that oil was at $25/barrel and was soon to hit $80. So I said, ”If you can pencil it out at $20 a barrel, I’m in.”
Finally, he called and said that times were even tougher, and his home was in jeopardy. In fact, the day before we were to depart for Europe, Mary Ann called my office and said that Mike was enroute to our home. So I took him to our club, and we discussed it by the pool and struck a deal before returning to our home for dinner.
I provided the funds to buy the equipment, but fortunately was in Europe when we found a used oil rig, which due to the oil downturn was only $180,000, down from several times that amount. Mike transported it to our site (without insurance). When I arrived home, I went to Sedan, Kansas, and Mike took me to an auction site full of oil equipment. I asked when the auction was occurring and was told that it already had, but due to lack of interest, little was sold. We needed oil pumps, barrels, etc., which we purchased for a song. Mike then took me to our site before going into town for lunch.
At lunch in a diner on Main Street, I said that I was concerned over the lack of security. Anyone could pull a truck up to our oil tank, pull down the spout and steal our oil. Mike looked at me and said ”Skip, look around you. Do you see anyone besides us not wearing chaps and cowboy boots? On the street, do you see a truck without a rifle or two in the back window? Would you steal anything here?” I had to agree, and so we were off to the races!
Fast forward a few weeks, and no oil! Finally, a FedEx truck arrived at our home bearing a package from the oil patch. It included a video tape and a Gatorade bottle full of crude oil. The video showed Mike sitting next to our rig on a chaise lounge in white shirt and tan pants when a gusher hit and turned him black. Soon we had even better news. When the Gulf War broke out, oil soared to $90 a barrel. We could hardly count the profits.
The Gatorade bottle of oil is always on display at our home.
Then things turned as black as oil. By that I mean, sure we continued to pump oil and make money, barrels full of both, so to speak. But money can cause problems in friendships! And we learned that lesson the hard way.
I feel that it is best to leave it at that for now. If you really want to know ”the rest of the story” and escape the winter cold as well, come on down to Phoenix. We will tell you the complete story over a few glasses (or bottles) of fine wine!
