The Ballad of Coal Oil Johnny

by Angela Nuzzo

--Adapted from a story by Harry Botsford
  in The Valley of Oil, 1946



In the year 1864,
Along Oil Creek, PA,
Young John Steele led his team of four,
well-groomed and fed with hay.

Now John was tall and blonde of hair,
broad-shouldered and flat-hipped.
He cursed with talent and with care,
but seldom drank a sip.

The air was cold for March that year.
The sun set for the night.
The muddy trail toward home was clear.
The house was in his sight.

John thought of supper with his wife,
Aunt Sarah by his side -
the two he loved most in his life.
Steak, potatoes, raisin pie!

He trudged home his weary horses.
The farmhouse, on a hill.
But, unknown to John, dark forces
had come to wreak ill will.

A crowd of people, through he shoved.
His wife ran out the door.
"So glad you're here, my Johnny love,
Your aunt is on death's shore!"

John took the hand of Eleanor,
they quickly went inside.
The house was hushed forevermore.
John knelt and prayed and cried.

His aunt was bandaged heavily,
she never came around.
The stove had burned her viciously
and put her in the ground.

Poor John grieved for this early loss.
He'd worshiped his aunt, dear.
She'd raised him from a babe, a cross
she seemed to bear with cheer.

Now, Aunt Sarah and her husband
had made a tidy sum.
Their oil wells were quite famous and,
each day, more money'd come.

Johnny had no head for numbers,
his time spent in the field.
He had no clue what would occur
when money was revealed.

The day after the funeral,
a lawyer came from town.
The safe was opened, it was full.
No one could make a sound.

Greenbacks, documents, sacks of gold,
spilled out into their hands.
They counted all the safe did hold.
It was two hundred grand!

"Poor Aunt Sarah!" John cried in strife.
"The money did no good.
She'd never had much fun in life
and now she never would."

The lawyer, John, and Eleanor
stood speechless as they stared.
Such money, never seen before,
and Eleanor was scared.

The lawyer took the bundle out,
his buggy drove off soon.
Next day, the will would leave no doubt.
Now, John was in a swoon.

Johnny didn't see his horses.
Dreams occupied his mind.
Eleanor wept for the forces
that rendered Johnny blind.

She knew life would be different.
How so? She could not say.
A prayer was said and heaven-sent,
this was their Judgment Day.

----------

Oppressive was the room in which
the lawyer read the will.
New suit and boots caused John to twitch,
poor Eleanor looked ill.

Aunt Sarah's worldly possessions
were left to Johnny Steele.
Money from wells, cash in thousands,
so much, it seemed unreal.

Now Johnny was a minor still,
he was not twenty-one.
The lawyer'd watch the funds until
John's next birthday had come.

John asked for thirty bucks, for now.
Embarrassed by their need.
The lawyer, glad that John could show
a prudence he would heed.

But sound advice is not a thing
that lingers in the brain.
"Poor Aunt Sarah," John kept saying,
"money brought her naught but pain."

For John, Eleanor was worried.
He seemed a different man.
He had a strange look in his eye,
she couldn't understand.

The day that Johnny came of age,
he went to town alone.
He signed the papers, page on page,
his head was in a zone.

He gave some money to a fund
for men lost in the war.
And Johnny, then, came to an end.
He was John Steele, no more.

A little glow shot through his soul,
he thought himself important.
"What good, money, unless its goal
is to bring enjoyment."

----------

Some months had passed and life was grim.
John drank to stop the pain.
He spent his money on a whim
and now was on a train.

To Philly, Johnny was headed.
Eleanor? Left behind.
For, what the poor girl had dreaded,
indeed left Johnny blind.

Her husband gave her some money,
enough, just, to get by.
She moved in with her family.
She had her babe and cried.

Now, Johnny was in a stupor.
Aunt Sarah had been right.
And his trouble with numbers? More.
While brandy blurred his sight.

Johnny took a drink and brooded.
He wasn't having fun.
His money, doing nothing good.
His prize, yet to be won.

----------

Now, news in the town of Philly
was sometimes slim-to-nil.
But, Chester Cassells knew that he
could find a story still.

The reporter got a hot tip -
Girard House had a guest.
An oil man who enjoyed a nip,
and having fun, his quest.

Well, Chester was a little man,
a thirst for wine and news.
He knocked on Johnny's door. How grand!
A friendship borne from booze.

John was lonely for company.
And Chester, he was there.
The reporter wanted a story.
Johnny seemed not to care.

So, next day, Chester's paper ran
such a lurid story.
And that is how a simple man
became "Coal Oil Johnny."

Now, Johnny didn't mind a bit.
He liked the fancy name.
His new-found friends called him a wit.
He gloried in the fame.

Chester urged him to great excess
just for the next day's news.
John overdosed on drink and dress.
His friend, he'd not refuse.

John thought it funny when he strolled
down Broad Street in the day.
He'd stick bills in his buttonholes,
watch kids snatch them away.

Johnny bought a gaudy carriage
in blue, green, gilt, and red.
A coat of arms of oil derricks
said all that need be said.

John bought a cab with cash one day.
The price was very big.
The driver knew not what to say
when John gave back the gig.

Another time, John and his friends
went for an early drink.
The clerk was rude and insolent,
so John put up a stink.

He went to see the manager,
asked that the clerk be fired.
He was refused, but made an offer
to rent the place entire.

The offer, it had been a joke.
John sealed the deal right there.
Eight thousand dollars, in one stroke,
was gone without a care.

John owned the hotel, for just one day.
And everything was free.
He fired the clerk without delay.
Said "Eat, drink, and be merry!"

----------

When John became tired of Philly,
he joined a minstrel troupe.
He loved the music, so lively.
Led parades in his best suit.

Now, Johnny was never sober.
And happy, not at all.
He gambled and signed more papers.
Was blind to his own fall.

Poor John, in 1866,
was broke and all alone.
For the troupe, he sold the tickets,
fought his way out of the zone.

Well, in 1867
John came back to the fields.
His dear Eleanor forgave him.
Again, he was John Steele.

He had an air of such relief,
gone was an evil spell.
"The money caused me naught but grief.
It blinded me, as well."

John and Eleanor lived on just fine.
He never took a drink.
At school, his head for figures shined.
What would Aunt Sarah think?

A million bucks was spent by John
on his famous journey.
But who could argue with a man
they called "Coal Oil Johnny"?