Growing up about thirty miles from Shreveport, I attended the Louisiana State Fair every year until I moved out of state. One year, I met a very famous person indeed.
I began collecting rocks at an early age, and decided that I wanted to pursue a career in geology long before graduating from high school. I don’t remember what the year was when the meeting with the famous person occurred, though it was probably the late fifties or early sixties. I was still a boy, not yet in high school.
Visiting the fair with my parents and grandparents, I followed along behind, bored from looking at too many prize roosters and blue ribbon pies. I wanted to be out on the fairway, smelling the hot dogs and cotton candy, and waiting in line for a seat on the roller coaster. Uninterested as I was, my ears picked up when my Grandpa Rood pointed someone out to me.
“See that man over there? It’s H.L. Hunt, the richest man in the world.”
The person my granddad pointed to did not look like the world’s richest man. Dressed in clothes that obviously came off a department store’s cheapest rack, he looked more like a shoe salesman – a mostly unsuccessful shoe salesman at that. At least he was wearing a bowtie. He was standing alone behind a small booth along with a display of canned goods.
Hunt had a little canning company called HLH. It sold beans, carrots and corn. H.L. Hunt was a Texas oil magnate but his passion was selling canned string beans. Every year he would attend the Louisiana State Fair and man the tiny booth displaying his canned goods. I am quite sure that few people there knew that he was the richest man in the world. My Grandpa knew who he was because he had worked in the oil patch all his life, finally retiring with Humble Oil.
“Go introduce yourself to him,” my grandmother said. “Tell him you’re going to be the best oil and gas geologist that ever lived.”
I am not so shy now, but I was painfully so then. Cajoled by my parents and grandparents, I finally sidled over to his booth and introduced myself. I told him that it was an honor meeting him and that I wanted to grow up and become an oilman just like him. I don’t remember much about what he said, but it was something like, “That’s nice, son. Take a can of my string beans to your mama. See how she likes them.”
Yes, he handed me a can of HLH string beans, clasped his hands behind his back and then turned away, tiring of his conversation with an adolescent Louisiana hick. I thanked him though his faraway stare told me he was not listening.
“What did he say?” My Grandpa asked when I returned to my very impressed parents and grandparents.
“Not much. I did most of the talking but he did give me this,” I said, handing my mom the can of string beans.
My meeting with the richest man in the world may have impressed my parents and grandparents though did little to impress me. I am sure he felt likewise. The brief encounter was no more than I just described though I have often thought about the strange man many times. Even though he was one of the most successful oil persons that ever lived, his passion was selling canned string beans that likely never added a nickel to his vast wealth. So many years later, I think that I know the answer why.
I kept my promise to H.L. Hunt, becoming an oilman - albeit not quite as successful - like himself. I also became a competent oil and gas geologist, using that talent to support myself in good stead for many years now. My passion, however, is pecking out words on a keyboard, and regurgitating my thoughts, memories and mysteries for anyone that will read them. I do not possess vast wealth in oil money, but I could not live a month on all that I have made from my writing.
Writing is my passion but, yes, I have a very deep love affair with geology and the study of the earth. I suppose that frumpy man in a bowtie I met so many years ago probably felt the same way about oil and gas. As I think back, I realize what a shame it is that I didn't have him autograph that can of string beans.
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Born near Black Bayou in the little Louisiana town of Vivian, Eric Wilder grew up listening to his grandmother’s tales of politics, corruption, and ghosts that haunt the night. He now lives in Oklahoma, where he continues to pen mysteries and short stories with a southern accent. He authored the French Quarter Mystery Series set in New Orleans, the Paranormal Cowboy Series, and the Oyster Bay Mystery Series. Please check it out on his Amazon author page. You might also like checking out his Facebook page.
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