The warm California sun streamed through the large windows of John's new office. It was April 1897, and life in Los Angeles was a stark contrast to their former days in the Upper West Side. Their new two-storey house in Los Angeles is within a comfortable twenty-five-minute carriage ride from the now-booming oil fields. Downstairs, Mary oversaw the household, the gentle hum of activity indicating the presence of the newly hired servants. Upstairs, the quiet murmur of a tutor's voice drifted from Michael's study.
Even at seven, Michael possessed an intellect that seemed to devour knowledge. Under Mary's initial guidance and now with dedicated tutors, he was excelling in his studies, readily grasping concepts years ahead of his peers. His inquisitive mind ranged from mathematics to history, and he possessed a remarkable memory that often astonished his teachers. His ability to recall details from books and his insightful questions often prompted deeper discussions and explorations of subjects.
John leaned back in his leather chair, the scent of ink and oil clinging faintly to his clothes. He looked back at the past month as a dream.
The initial well proved to be just the beginning. Buoyed by this success, John quickly moved the drilling crew to the other locations Michael had indicated. By March, they had struck oil in four more areas. Word of the Kingston family's remarkable success spread like wildfire.
Newspapers across California and even in the East Coast began to carry the story. Some headlines read:
"Kingston Family Strikes Oil in Los Angeles!"
"Massive Oil Find Transforms Fortune of East Coast Family!"
"Significant Oil Discovery in LA Ignites Land Rush!"
"New Oil Bonanza Discovered by Kingston Enterprise!"
The news triggered a frantic rush for land in the surrounding areas. Within weeks, the price of an acre soared from under $100 to as much as $500. John, ever the astute businessman, swiftly sold the 500 acres that Michael hadn't specifically identified, recouping a staggering $220,000 – more than the initial investment for the entire 2500 acres.
By April of 1897 John had ten wells in operation. To everyone's astonishment, all of them were producing a substantial volume of oil.
Their ten oil wells were now a steady source of wealth. Each day, the total production exceeded 500 barrels, a significant amount, though John knew that with more advanced drilling and extraction techniques, that number could likely be far greater. The price of oil had settled at a respectable 80 cents per barrel. Several eager representatives from various oil companies had approached him with offers for exclusive contracts to his land's production, but John, sensing the potential for even greater value, was holding out for a more advantageous deal.
Suddenly, the office door swung open, and John's eyes widened in surprise. Standing in the doorway, a broad smile on his face, was George.
"George!" John exclaimed, rising quickly from his chair. They embraced warmly, a mixture of joy and brotherly affection in their greeting. "What in heaven's name are you doing here? You didn't say you were coming! And where's Elizabeth?"
George chuckled. "She's with with Michael. And as for the lack of announcement we wanted to surprise you."
John shook his head, a smile now replacing his surprise. "Well, you certainly succeeded."
"But that's not the only surprise," George added, his eyes twinkling. "We have another guest joining us for dinner tonight, someone I think you'll find… interesting."
John's curiosity was piqued, but he didn't press for more details. He trusted George's judgment.
As evening approached, a subtle air of anticipation settled over the household. George seemed a little more nervous than usual, a fact that didn't escape John's notice, solidifying his suspicion that their dinner guest was indeed someone of importance. They sat in the drawing-room, the gentle crackle of the fireplace the only sound, when the distinct clip-clop of carriage wheels on the gravel driveway announced an arrival. Not one carriage, but two.
The first carriage disgorged four burly men, their expressions serious and their demeanor suggesting they were more than mere drivers. They positioned themselves strategically around the entrance. Then, from the second carriage, stepped a man in his late fifties, his features sharp and intelligent, his bearing radiating an air of quiet authority.
Michael, who had been peering out of the window, his sharp eyes missing nothing, turned to John, his voice hushed with a knowing wonder. "Father , that's the Oil Man."
"The Oil Man?" John asked, still seated, turning towards Michael with a questioning look.
"Yeah," Michael replied, his gaze fixed on the figure outside. "The man in the newspapers… John D. Rockefeller." Michael identified him from the numerous articles in newspapers.
John's initial reaction was disbelief. He looked at George, who simply offered a wide, knowing smile. It couldn't be. John D. Rockefeller? Here?
John D. Rockefeller, by 1897, was a name synonymous with oil and immense wealth. Born in 1839, his journey to becoming one of the richest men in American history was marked by shrewd business acumen, an unwavering focus on efficiency, and a relentless drive to consolidate the burgeoning oil industry. He co-founded the Standard Oil Company in 1870, and through strategic acquisitions, aggressive pricing, and the development of an extensive transportation and refining infrastructure, he had built a near-monopoly over the American oil market. Standard Oil controlled almost 90% of the refining and marketing of oil in the United States by the late 1890s. His wealth was legendary, his business practices often controversial, but his impact on the industrial landscape of America was undeniable. He was a figure of immense power and influence, and the thought of him standing on their doorstep in Los Angeles sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through John.
The door to the drawing-room opened, and George stepped back to usher in their esteemed guest. John stood, a polite but slightly awestruck smile on his face as he extended his hand. "Mr. Rockefeller, it is an honor."
John D. Rockefeller's handshake was firm, his gaze direct and penetrating. "Mr. Kingston, the pleasure is all mine. Your recent success in the Los Angeles basin has certainly garnered attention."
Mary and Elizabeth offered their greetings, their composure reflecting a blend of respect and quiet confidence. Then, Michael, never one to shy away from an interesting encounter, stepped forward. "Hello, Mr. Rockefeller. I saw your picture in the newspaper."
A warm smile spread across Rockefeller's face as he looked down at the young boy. "Well, hello there, young man. You must be Michael. I've heard you're quite the clever one." He offered a brief nod.
The initial formalities complete, they moved into the dining room. The table was set with the finest china and silverware, a testament to their recent prosperity. A sumptuous dinner, typical of a luxurious meal in 1890s America, was served. It began with a delicate oyster stew, followed by a roasted prime rib of beef, accompanied by glazed sweet potatoes, buttered asparagus, and a rich, creamy mushroom gravy. Fine white bread and an assortment of pickles and olives adorned the table. For dessert, a lavish fruitcake, studded with nuts and dried fruits and drizzled with a sweet glaze, was presented with freshly brewed coffee and tea. The conversation during dinner was light and polite, touching on general topics and avoiding business until later.
After the plates were cleared, they all adjourned to John's study, a comfortable room lined with bookshelves. Rockefeller seemed perfectly at ease with Mary and Elizabeth joining the meeting, his own wife, Laura Spelman Rockefeller, being a woman of strong character and independent thought.
Rockefeller settled into a comfortable armchair, his gaze returning to John. "Mr. Kingston, let's get straight to the matter at hand. Your oil find is significant. My company, Standard Oil, has an extensive refining and distribution network, the most comprehensive in the nation. We are interested in securing a steady supply of crude from your fields." He paused, his eyes sharp. "To that end, I am prepared to offer you a signing bonus of two million dollars and a competitive price per barrel for all the crude oil produced from your current land holdings. This would mean that you would agree not to supply any other entities, even if you were to build your own refineries in the future."
John's breath hitched. Two million dollars. The number echoed in his mind. In America, there were only a few thousand millionaires at this time. If they accepted this offer, their future would be secured beyond his wildest dreams. He glanced at Mary, Elizabeth, and George. Their faces reflected a mixture of shock and excitement.
Taking a deep breath, John calmed his racing thoughts. "Mr. Rockefeller, your offer is indeed generous. However, considering the potential yield of our fields and the long-term implications, we would propose a signing bonus of three million dollars, and we would like the exclusivity agreement to be limited to a period of eight years."
Rockefeller considered this for a moment, his gaze unwavering. "Three million dollars is a substantial sum, Mr. Kingston. I am prepared to agree to that. However, for such an investment and to ensure the stability of our supply chain, I would require the exclusivity agreement to be for a period of ten years."
John looked at George, who nodded almost imperceptibly. This was a life-altering offer. "Ten years it is, Mr. Rockefeller. We have a deal."
Just as the agreement seemed sealed, a small voice piped up. "Mr. Rockefeller?" Michael asked, looking directly at the powerful oil magnate. "This contract, it's only for these oil fields, right?"
Rockefeller turned his attention to the young boy, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What do you mean by that, young man?"
"I mean," Michael clarified, "if we find oil somewhere else in the future, we can sell it to other companies, right?"
Rockefeller chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Yes, young Michael, that is correct. This agreement pertains only to the oil produced from your current land holdings in this area." He didn't seem to give the possibility of them finding oil elsewhere a second thought.
But John, George, Mary, and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances. Michael's intuition had already led them to this bonanza. The possibility of it happening again was not something they could dismiss.
After John D. Rockefeller and his men departed, a stunned silence filled the Kingston home. They were going to be millionaires. The weight of that reality settled upon them, a mixture of disbelief and exhilaration. Michael, though he understood that being a millionaire was something important, didn't quite grasp the full scope of its meaning. But the rest of the Kingston family knew. They had, in a remarkably short span of time, joined the ranks of the American wealthy elite.