Gamble in The Devil's Chalk. Caleb Pirtle III

hesitation, that one troubling instance of confusion did apparently exist. He wrote:

      I must confess that I did receive a call last fall from an irate lady demanding to know (1) what the heck I had done with Kern Tips, (2) did I or did I not intend to broadcast the Southwestern Conference football games on the radio this season and (3) if not, why the heck not. I tried to refer her to Exxon, but she would have none of it. She insisted that she had never heard of Exxon, and after a while I believed her. I tried patiently to explain to her about the change of your name, but she accused me of trying to put some big con on her. As I recall, her exact words were, “I think you are spoofing me, young man.” Considering this remark judiciously, in its entirety, and being 45 years old, I decided to accept it as a compliment to my youthful albeit non-existent guild rather than as an insult to my integrity. I had the definite impression that if I could have given her any kind of encouragement whatever about a possible forthcoming resumption of football broadcasts, she would have turned her radio up full blast, continued her reminiscences about Sammy Baugh, Davey O’Brien, Ki Aldrich et al., and happily motored forever.

      However, Pat Holloway made it perfectly clear to all parties involved that he had no intention of changing the name of his company, pointing out that “the public has gone from Humble Oil & Refining Company to Exxon, not come to Humble Exploration.” As he said so eloquently, ‘We have grown accustomed to our name and somewhat more strongly, we doubt we would be willing to make an even swap of names with you even if you were to make such an offer. We simply have always preferred Humble to Exxon.” He did write:

      I trust you are not offended by our preference to our name over yours. Just because we think you made a mistake in changing your name does not necessarily make it so. And even if it was a mistake we think you are now big enough to survive even more than one little mistake like this. Overall, we admire you greatly. In fact, we believe you guys have reached the point where you are probably going to make it in a big way. In all respects other than changing our name, we remain your humble and obedient friend.

      If any of the foregoing arouses your ire or offends your dignity to the extent that you decide to revoke my Exxon credit card, please at least reissue to me in lieu thereof my old Humble credit card so that I can purchase on credit some of the products and services that you presumably still market under the (Humble) trademark registrations.

      Pat Holloway knew that the company’s Board of Directors had passed a 1972 resolution calling for the continued use of HUMBLE after the changeover to EXXON. To do so, Exxon instituted a trademark maintenance program for the trademark by delivering packaged Exxon products to pre-arranged customers with the Humble name. It also formed three corporation – Humble, Inc., Humble Gas Transmission Company, and Humble Oil & Refining Corporation – to sell bulk Exxon gasoline and diesel fuel to selected customers with the name HUMBLE printed on the invoice. It was, Holloway reasoned, all a scam and nothing else. Total sales from those so-called package products hit $9.28 in 1973, zero dollars in 1974, $140.12 in 1975, and $42.05 in 1973. The three corporations, in spite of their powerful and holier-than-thou Humble name, only had sales totaling $395,814.during the seven-year period from 1973 through 1979, not much for a corporate giant with worldwide business to worldwide customers.

      Pat Holloway knew the inevitable was coming, and Exxon did not disappoint him. Exxon headed to court as quickly as the company could find a judge to hear the lawsuit.

      In his deposition, Holloway, his face the portrait of diffidence in a gray flannel suit, was the iconoclast. He had more fun than any other attorney in the room. Amidst a crowd of grim-faced corporate suits, he told Exxon:

      Your letter of January 11, 1977 addressed to William W. Browning, as President of Humble Exploration Company, Inc., has come to me because my friend Bill died last September, and, while we have spent considerable time since then worrying about where he went, at least one fact is certain. He left no forwarding address with the U.S. Post Office.

      Under pressing examination, Holloway admitted that Exxon’s old name and his new name did provide some bewilderment. He said:

      A couple of years ago, your people here in Dallas through postal error received one of our run checks, but they were kind enough to send it on to us after meticulously and exhaustively satisfying themselves that it represented production from a lease in which neither you nor any of your predecessors, subsidiaries, affiliates, etc., ever had any interest. The Exxon man apologized for opening our mail by mistake, explaining rather wistfully I thought, ‘You know, we used to be a Humble Company.’

      Holloway sought to cement the idea that Humble Exploration was too small and insignificant for Exxon to even worry about. He said:

      Where we have not ventured, not being big enough to swim, although we have waded around a little in South Louisiana and in a Texas bay – and nearly drowned financially in just a few feet of calm water when we struck our dobber in the dirt, differentially, three times and had to sidetrack each time – may you never have a daily drilling report beginning “STTD-2 14, 453.

      Pat Holloway even told the nervous panel of lawyers, with a degree of humility that only he could summon up at times like these, that his grandmother might well be the reason behind Exxon’s success, pointing out:

      When my grandmother was running Gulf’s (and prior thereto Guffey’s) operations in Texas from Beaumont during and after Spindletop, she hired some kid geologist who went on to find a bunch of oil for your predecessor and ended up as President of Humble Oil & Refining Company. The Lord only knows where you would be now if Grandmother hadn’t hired that kid, trained him, and then advised him to switch companies because Ben Bolt and some other older geologists she had could work up all the prospects she had budget enough to drill. But maybe, just maybe, you would have ended up like Mobil, forced into selling ladies’ ready-to-wear, or like Gulf, bereft of meaningful reserves or control of crude both in the Permian Basin and in the Middle East, and, to boot, probably faced with increased premium costs on their directors’ and officers’ liability insurance policy.

      Pat Holloway was through. He leaned back, propped his feet up, folded his arms, and grinned defiantly. Exxon officials and attorneys had no idea what they were going to do with him. They only knew they would see Holloway in court. He was not concerned. Exxon’s attorneys began to sharpen their verbal swords. Pat Holloway’s was already honed to a razor’s edge. The battle, however, would come another day.

      Holloway knew and understood the court system. He might or might not lose the name of Humble Exploration Company, but it would be a long time before anyone knew for certain. Once the lawsuit entered the mold-scented bowels of the courthouse, then tried to shuffle its way blindly through the maze of an appellate court, any permanent decision or ruling didn’t have a chance of surfacing or seeing the light of day for years.

      In the meantime, Humble Exploration Company, in all of its glory, with Exxon officials and attorneys seething in Houston, was on the way to gamble in a play that was far too small for Exxon. Besides, an independent operator could drill a well for upwards of two hundred thousand dollars. The same well would cost Exxon a million and a half dollars. Too much fat. Too much overhead. Too much fine print and red tape.

      At the moment, Pat Holloway had never heard of the Austin Chalk, and Giddings was nothing more than a dot on the map that, until now, his travels had always managed to avoid.