The president of the association was Captain William Hasson, a young man both by his knowledge of the Oil Regions and the oil business well fitted for the position. Captain Hasson was one of the few men in the association who had been in the country before the discovery of oil. His father had bought, in the fifties, part of the grant of land at the mouth of Oil Creek, made in 1796 to the Indian chief Cornplanter, and had moved on it with his family. Four years after the discovery of oil he and his partner disposed of 300 acres of the tract they owned for $750,000. Young Hasson had seen Cornplanter, as the site of his father’s farm was called, become Oil City; he had seen the mill, blacksmith shop and country tavern give way to a thriving town of several thousand inhabitants. All of his interests and his pride were wrapped up in the industry which had grown up about him. Independent in spirit, vigorous in speech, generous and just in character, William Hasson had been thoroughly aroused by the assault of the South Improvement Company, and under his presidency the producers had conducted their successful campaign. The knowledge that the same man who had been active in that scheme had now organised a national association had convinced Captain Hasson of the necessity of a counter move, and he threw himself energetically into an effort to persuade the oil producers to devise an intelligent and practical plan for controlling their end of the business, and then stand by what they decided on.

Captain Hasson and those who were working with him would have had a much more difficult task in arousing the producers to action if it had not been for the general dissatisfaction over the price of oil. The average price of crude in the month of August, 1872, was $3.47½. The year before it had been $4.42½, and that was considered a poverty price. It was pretty certain that prices would fall still lower, that “three-dollar oil” was near at hand. Everybody declared three dollars was not a “living price” for oil, that it cost more than that to produce it. The average yield of the wells in the Oil Region in 1872 was five barrels a day. Now a well cost at that time from $2,500 to $8,000, exclusive of the price of the lease. It cost eight to ten dollars a day to pump a well, exclusive of the royalty interest—that is, the proportion of the production turned over to the land-owner, usually one-fourth.^[28] If a man had big wells, and many of them, he made big profits on “three-dollar oil,” but there were comparatively few “big producers.” The majority of those in the business had but few wells, and these yielded only small amounts.

If he had been contented to economise and to accept small gains, even the small producer could live on a much lower price than three dollars; but nobody in the Oil Regions in 1872 looked with favour on economy, and everybody despised small things. The oil men as a class had been brought up to enormous profits, and held an entirely false standard of values. As the Derrick told them once in a sensible editorial, “their business was born in a balloon going up, and spent all its early years in the sky.” They had seen nothing but the extreme of fortune. One hundred per cent. per annum on an investment was in their judgment only a fair profit. If their oil property had not paid for itself entirely in six months, and begun to yield a good percentage, they were inclined to think it a failure. Now nothing but five-dollar oil would do this, so great were the risks in business; and so it was for five-dollar oil, regardless of the laws of supply and demand, that they struggled. They were notoriously extravagant in the management of their business. Rarely did an oil man write a letter if he could help it. He used the telegraph instead. Whole sets of drilling tools were sometimes sent by express. It was no uncommon thing to see near a derrick broken tools which could easily have been mended, but which the owner had replaced by new ones. It was anything to save bother with him. Frequently wells were abandoned which might have been pumped on a small but sure profit. In those days there were men who looked on a ten-barrel (net) well as hardly worth taking care of. And yet even at fifty cents a barrel such a well would have paid the owner $1,800 a year. The simple fact was that the profits which men in trades all over the country were glad enough to get, the oil producer despised. The one great thing which the Oil Regions did not understand in 1872 was economy. As a matter of fact the oil-producing business was going through a stage in its natural development similar to oil refining. Both, under the stimulus of the enormous profits in the years immediately following the discovery of oil, had been pushed until they had outstripped consumption. The competition resulting from the inrush of producers and refiners and the economies which had been worked out were bringing down profits. The combinations attempted by both refiners and producers in these years were really efforts to keep up prices to the extravagant point of the early speculative years.

Now the drop in the price of oil everybody recognised to be due to a natural cause. Where a year before the production had been 12,000 barrels a day, it was now 16,000. The demand for refined had not increased in proportion to this production of crude, and oil stocks had accumulated until the tanks of the region were threatening to overflow. And there was no sign of falling off. Under these circumstances it needed little argument to convince the oil men that if they were to get a better price they must produce no more than the world would use. There was but one way to effect this—to put down no new wells until the stocks on hand were reduced and the daily production was brought down to a marketable amount.

Under the direction of the Producers’ Association an agitation at once began in favour of stopping the drill for six months. It was a drastic measure. There was hardly an oil operator in the entire region who had not on hand some piece of territory on which he was planning to drill, or on which he had not wells under way. Stopping the drill meant that all of the aggressive work of his business should cease for six months. It meant that his production, unreplenished, would gradually fall off, until at the end of the period he would have probably not over half of what he had now; that then he must begin over again to build up. It meant, too, that he was at the mercy of neighbours who might refuse to join the movement, and who by continuing to drill would drain his territory. It seemed to him the only way of obtaining a manageable output of crude, however, and accordingly, when late in the month of August the following pledge to stop the drill was circulated, the great majority of the producers signed it:

Whereas, The extreme low price of oil requires of producers that operations therefor shall cease for the present: Now we, the producers, land-owners and others, residents of the Pennsylvania Oil Region, do hereby bind ourselves to each other not to commence the drilling of any more wells for the period of six months from the first day of September next, not to lease any lands owned or controlled by us for the purpose of operations during the same period, and we also agree to use all honourable means to prevent others from boring. This we agree to, and bind ourselves to each other under a forfeiture of $2,000 for each well commenced by either of us within the period above limited—the same to be collected as any other debt. It is, however, understood by the undersigned that this forfeiture is not to apply to any wells where the erection of rigs is completed or under way, or that may be commenced before the first day of September aforesaid.

The chief objection to this pledge came from land-owners in Clarion County. They were the “original settlers,” plodding Dutch farmers, whose lives had always been poor and hard and shut-in. The finding of oil had made them rich and greedy. They were so ignorant that it was difficult to transact business of any nature with them. It was not unusual for a Clarion County farmer, if offered an eighth royalty, to refuse it on the ground that it was too little, and to ask a tenth. A story used to be current in the Oil Regions of a producer who, returning from an unsuccessful land hunt in Clarion County was asked why he had not secured a certain lease. “Well,” he said, “farmers wanted seven-eighths of the oil as a royalty, wanted me to furnish barrels and to paint both heads. I agreed to everything but the last. I could afford to paint but one head, and so he wouldn’t sign the lease.” When the proposition to stop the drill for six months was brought to these men, who at the time owned the richest territory in the oil field, no amount of explanation could make them understand it. They regarded it simply as a scheme to rob them, and would not sign. Outside of this district, however, the drill stopped over nearly all the field on the first of September.

There was nothing but public opinion to hold the producers to their pledge. But public opinion in those days in the Oil Regions was fearless and active and asserted itself in the daily newspapers and in every meeting of the association. The whole body of oil men became a vigilance committee intent on keeping one another loyal to the pledge. Men who appeared at church on Sunday in silk hats, carrying gold-headed canes—there were such in the Oil Region in 1872—now stole out at night to remote localities to hunt down rumours of drilling wells. If they found them true, their dignity did not prevent their cutting the tools loose or carrying off a band wheel.

Stopping the drill afforded no immediate relief to the producers. It was for the future. And as soon as the Petroleum Producers’ Association had the movement well under way, it proposed another drastic measure—a thirty days’ shut-down—by which it was meant that all wells should cease pumping for a month. Nothing shows better the compact organisation and the determination of the oil producers at this time than the immediate response they gave to this suggestion. In ten days scarcely a barrel of oil was being pumped from end to end of the Oil Regions. “That a business producing three million dollars a month, employing 10,000 labouring men and fifty million dollars of capital, should be entirely suspended, dried up, stopped still as death by a mutual voluntary agreement, made and perfected by all parties interested, within a space of ten days—this is a statement that staggers belief—a spectacle that takes one’s breath away,” cried the Derrick, which was using all its wits to persuade the producers to limit their production. It was certainly a spectacle which saddened the heart, however much one might applaud the grim resolution of the men who were carrying it out. The crowded oil farms where creaking walking-beams sawed the air from morning until night, where engines puffed, whistles screamed, great gas jets flared, teams came and went, and men hurried to and fro, became suddenly silent and desolate, and this desolation had an ugliness all its own—something unparalleled in any other industry of this country. The awkward derricks, staring cheap shanties, big tanks with miles and miles of pipe running hither and thither, the oil-soaked ground, blackened and ruined trees, terrible roads—all of the common features of the oil farm to which activity gave meaning and dignity—now became hideous in inactivity. Oil seemed a curse to many a man in those days as he stood by his silent wells and wondered what was to become of his business, of his family, in this clash of interests.

While the producers were inaugurating these movements, Captain Hasson and a committee were busy making out the plan of the permanent association which was to control the business of oil-producing and prevent its becoming the slave of the refining interest. The knowledge that such an organisation was being worked out kept the oil country in a ferment. In every district suggestions, practical and impractical, wise and foolish, occupied every producers’ meeting and kept the idle oil men discussing from morning until night. At one mass-meeting the following resolution was actually passed by a body of revengeful producers:

Resolved, that to give a wider market throughout the world to petroleum, to enhance its price and to protect producers from unjust combinations of home refiners, a committee be appointed to ask the representatives of foreign governments at Washington to request their respective governments to put a proper tariff on refined oil and to admit crude oil free into the ports of their respective governments.

Toward the end of October Captain Hasson presented the scheme which he and the committee had prepared. It proposed that there should be established what was called a Petroleum Producers’ Agency.^[29] This agency was really an incorporated company with a capital of one million dollars, the stock of which was to be subscribed to only by the producers or their friends. This agency was to purchase all the oil of the members of the association at at least five dollars a barrel. If stocks could be kept down so that the market took all of the oil at once, the full price was to be paid at once in cash; if not, the agency was to store the oil in tanks it was to build, and a portion of the price was to be paid in tank certificates. By thus controlling all the oil, the agency expected to protect the weakest as well as the strongest producer, to equalise the interest of different localities, to prevent refiners and exporters from accumulating stocks, and to prevent gambling in oil. The agency was to take active means to collect reliable information about the oil business—the number of wells drilling, the actual production, the stocks on hand—things which had never been done to anybody’s satisfaction. Indeed, one of the standing causes for quarrels between the various newspapers of the region was their conflicting statistics about production and stocks. It was to make a study of the market and see what could be done to increase consumption. It was to oppose monopolies and encourage competition, and, if necessary, it was to provide co-operative refineries which the producers should own and control.

The spirit of the agency, as explained by Captain Hasson, was most liberal, considering the interests of even the drillers and pumpers. “Advise every employee to take at least one share of stock for himself,” he said in his address, “and one for his wife and each of his children, and encourage him to pay for it out of his saved earnings or out of his monthly pay. If he is not able to keep up his instalments, assure him that you will help him, and then take care to do it. You will thus do him a double kindness, and benefit his family by encouraging habits of thrift and economy. You owe this much to him who so nobly seconded your efforts to gain control of the market by stopping work. You had all to gain, and he had nothing to hope for but your benefit. Now show your appreciation of his acts by this evidence of your regard for his welfare.”

The plan was received with general enthusiasm, and when it came up for adoption it went through with a veritable whoop. Indeed, within a few moments after its official acceptance, which took place in Oil City on October 24, $200,000 worth of stock was taken, and less than two weeks later it was announced that more than the desired million dollars had been subscribed, that the trustees and officers had been elected, and that the agency was ready for work. For the first time in the history of the oil business the producers were united in an organisation, which, if carried out, would regulate the production of oil to something like the demand for it, would prevent stocks from falling into the hands of speculators, and would provide a strong front to any combination with monopolistic tendencies. Only one thing was necessary now to make the producer a fitting opponent to his natural enemy, the refiner. That thing was loyalty to the agency he had established. The future of the producer at that moment was in his own hand. Would he stick? By every sign he would. He thought so himself. He had acted so resolutely and intelligently up to this point that even Mr. Rockefeller seems to have thought so.

During the entire three months that the producers had been organising, the refiners had been making divers overtures to them. In August several of the refiners sought certain of the big producers and privately proposed a two-headed combination which should handle the whole business, from drilling to exportation. The proposition they made was most alluring to men suffering from low prices. “Carry out your plans to limit your production and guarantee to sell only to us,” said Mr. Rockefeller’s representative, “and we will give you four dollars a barrel for your oil. We will also establish a sliding scale, and for every cent a gallon that refined oil advances we will give you twenty-five cents more on your barrel of crude.” The market price of crude oil, when this offer was made, was hovering around three dollars. “How,” asked the producer, “can you do this?” “We expect, by means of our combination, to get a rebate of seventy-five cents a barrel,” was the answer. “But the railroads have signed an agreement to give no rebates,” objected the producers.

“As if the railroads ever kept an agreement,” answered the worldly-wise refiners. “Somebody will get the rebates. It is the way the railroads do business. If it is to be anybody, we propose it shall be our combination.” Now it was clear enough to the men approached that the great body of their association would never go into any scheme based on rebates, and they said so. The refiners saw no disadvantage in that fact. “We don’t want all the producers. We only want the big ones. The small producer under our arrangement must die, as the small refiner must.” The proposition never got beyond the conference chamber. It was too cynical. Several conferences of the same nature took place later between representatives of the two interests, but nothing came of them. The two associations were kept apart by the natural antagonism of their ideals and their policy. Captain Hasson and his followers were working on an organisation which aimed to protect the weakest as well as the strongest; which welcomed everybody who cared to come into the business; which encouraged competition and discountenanced any sort of special privilege. Mr. Rockefeller and his associates proposed to save the strong and eliminate the weak, to limit the membership to those who came in now, to prevent competition by securing exclusive privileges. Their program was cold-blooded, but it must be confessed that it showed a much firmer grasp on the commercial practices of the day, and a much deeper knowledge of human nature as it operates in business, than that of the producers.

The formation of the Producers’ Agency brought the refiners back to the Oil Regions in greater earnest than ever. The success of that organisation gave them an active antagonist, one which, as it held the raw material, could at any time actually shut up their refineries by withholding oil. The vigour, the ability, the determination the new organisation had displayed made it a serious threat to the domination Mr. Rockefeller and his associates had dreamed. It must be placated. On November 8, immediately after it was announced that the entire million dollars’ worth of stock was taken, an agent of the Standard Oil Company in Oil City was ordered to buy oil from the agency—6,000 barrels of oil at $4.75 a barrel—and the order was followed by this telegram from Mr. Rockefeller:

“It has been represented to us that if we would buy of the producers’ agent at Oil City and pay $4.75 per barrel, they would maintain the price. We are willing to go farther and buy only of the producers’ agent, hence the order we have given you. See Hasson and others and let there be a fair understanding on this point. We will do all in our power to maintain prices, and continue to buy, provided our position is fully understood. We do this to convince producers of our sincerity, and to assist in establishing the market.”

A more adroit move could not have been made at this moment. This purchase was a demonstration that the Refiners’ Association could and would pay the price the producers asked; that they asked nothing better, in fact, than to ally themselves with the agency. The events of the next three weeks, on the contrary, showed the agency that it would be some time before anybody else would pay them any such price as that Mr. Rockefeller promised. The reason was evident enough. In spite of the stopping of the drill, in spite of the thirty days’ shut-down, production was increasing. Indeed, the runs^[30] for November were greater than they had ever been in any single month since the beginning of the oil business. A large number of wells under way when the drill was stopped had “come in big.” New territory had been opened up by unexpected wildcats. The shut-down had done less than was expected to decrease stocks. It was evident that the Producers’ Association had a long and severe task before it to bring the crude output down to anything like the demand. Could the great body of producers be depended upon to take still further measures to lessen their production, and at the same time would they hold their oil until the agency had the mastery of the situation? Their tanks were overflowing. Many of them were in debt and depending on their sales to meet their obligations—even to meet their daily personal expenses. It was little wonder that they grew restive as they began to realise that the agency in which they had seen immediate salvation from all their ills could only be made effective by months more of self-sacrifice, of agitation, of persistent effort from every man of them. With every day they became more impatient of the bonds the agency had set for them, and the leaders soon realised that some immediate tangible results must be given the mass of oil men, or there was danger of a stampede.

A strong feature of the genius of John D. Rockefeller has always been his recognition of the critical moment for action in complicated situations. He saw it now, and his representatives again came to the creek seeking an alliance. Their arguments, as they found their way from the private meetings into the press and the street, ran something like this: “Our combination is the only big buyer. We are in the thing to stay, and shall remain the only big buyer. You might erect refineries and oppose us, but it would take months, and while you are waiting how are you going to hold the producers? You cannot do it. We can easily get all the oil we want to-day at our own price from the men who sell from necessity, and yet your agency is in the first flush of enthusiasm. Sell only to us and we will buy 15,000 barrels a day from you. Refuse an alliance with us and you will fail.”

Overwhelmed by the length and severity of the struggle before them if they insisted on independence, fearful lest the scattered and restless producers could not be held much longer, convinced by their confident arguments that the refiners could keep their promise, the council finally agreed to a plan of union which the Derrick dubbed the “Treaty of Titusville.” A terrible hubbub followed the announcement that a treaty was proposed and would probably be adopted by the association. The same old arguments which had greeted each overture from the refiners were gone over again. It would be a monopoly. The price they offered for crude depended upon their getting an unnaturally high price for refined. The markets of the world would refuse to pay this price when it was discovered that it was kept up by an agreement which was contrary to the laws of supply and demand. And, besides, the parties could not trust each other. “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.” Liberal translation—“Mind your eye when the Cleveland refiners get generous,” cautioned the Derrick. As always, the ghost of the South Improvement Company was between them. On the other hand, it was argued that it was Hobson’s choice, “combine or bust,” there is no other market. We cannot wait for one. We have a million barrels of oil on hand—the refiners will take 15,000 barrels a day for “spot cash.” And after all, concluded the “philosophical,” if you can’t do as well as you want to, do the best you can.