Week 41 - Water - Daly/Wilcox
When Allison Wilcox started a well-drilling business in 1948, he never dreamed that three of his sons would become involved in the business. Allison and his wife Margaret had seven children: James, Richard, Charles, Lyle, Ralph, Freddy and daughter Lucille. Richard, my husband's uncle showed a marked interest is helping his dad in the family business.
When Richard was a child, he was helping his dad with an injured horse, and his dad told him 'Go get me some rope Doc' and it stuck. From then on, he was always called Doc Wilcox. Many knew him for a lifetime and never knew his real name.
When my husband Dan was in his early teens, he would spend his summers working with his Uncle Doc while staying with his grandmother (Margaret (Smith) Daly at Barnes Lake in Columbiaville, Michigan. Doc was married to Patricia Daly, and they had three children. Doc and his brothers Charlie and Jim each had their own individual well drilling businesses.
Doc would pay him $14.00 a day. And if they only worked a half-day, it was $7.00. Now Doc could spin a yarn a mile long - learned from his father Allison. Many days were spent buying parts, picking up more pipe and stopping to visit with buddies, ...so no actual work at the jobsite. So, lots of those days were half-pay. But you couldn't put a price on the knowledge learned.
Doc had the knack. You know, the knack of taking a sturdy forked oak branch and finding the best spot to drill a well. This is known as 'water witching'. Dan witnessed that phenomenon many times. Even tried it himself, but it never worked for him. Doc told him he held the stick too tight. Those were the days of finding the spot, positioning the large, lumbering well-truck in the correct spot and then the real work of drilling a well would begin. The loud banging of the cable tool bit - a heavy bit (like a chisel) would be repeatedly lifted and dropped on the ground by a cable, breaking rock and soil. About every 20 feet, they would have to drop a pipe and attach it to the previous one. Doc upgraded to a rotary drilling rig which had a rotating drill bit attached to a string of drill pipe that ground its way down. Drilling mud, which was a mix of water and clay was circulated to cool the bit and prevent the hole from collapsing. Most water wells used 2-inch pipe, but sometimes they used up to 4-inch pipe.
And if a stubborn rock shelf wouldn't take the bit, all the pipes would be removed, and a stick of dynamite was hung on a wire down the hole and that wire was touched to a live battery. Bang! Then the pounding and drilling began again. A typical well was anywhere from 50 to 300 feet deep.
Eventually, water poured out, a screen was placed to stop sand and gravel from mixing with the water and the new well was capped. Another job done.
Time to move the equipment - the rig and the water truck - on to the next spot. And Dan was able to drive the water truck. Even long before he acquired his driver's license. He was a tall, gangly young man, had been taught how to drive a manual transmission and no one questioned his age. Once when moving to a new site, Doc was pulled over by the local law enforcement for a loud muffler on the well machine. Dan was driving the water truck and just kept on going. A few miles down the road, he pulled onto another road and waited. Doc found him and they moved the vehicles and then took the rest of the day off. Stories needed to be told.
The Wilcox brothers also raced circle track, and Charlie went on to do big time tractor pulls. But those are stories for another time. Those summers and the stories that have passed down over the years are memories that future generations will also hear about. Through his time spent with Doc, Charlie and Jim my husband learned skills that he has never forgotten. Hands on skills that can't be taught from a book.
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