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The Oil Boom Ran On Rumor
- Aug 18
- 5 min read
On October 29, 1870, the Petroleum Centre Daily Record shared that a rumor had spread through town the previous day. The rumor claimed that an oil tank had burst on the McCray farm. The McCray farm sat on a bluff just east of Petroleum Centre, right in the heart of a busy oil-producing area.¹
But there was a catch: the Petroleum Centre Daily Record explained that no tank had actually burst. The paper suggested the rumor likely started when about six barrels of oil leaked from a pipeline.² Somehow, a small pipeline leak of six barrels had turned into a story about a burst tank.
A Well Before It Was a Well
Rumors spread easily along Oil Creek because it was hard to know what was really happening. Oil wells could go hundreds of feet underground. People at the site could watch the machines, but they couldn’t see what the drill hit. They had to rely on what came up with the sand pump, any signs of gas or oil, and what the drillers said.
In his 1866 history of Venango County’s oil boom, S. J. M. Eaton described crowds asking about a well’s depth, what kind of rock the drill had reached, and if oil had been found. He warned that not every answer could be trusted. Eaton even pictured a sign listing the well’s depth and prospects, reminding visitors that the workers were hired to drill, not to run a “general intelligence office.”³
The joke made sense because everyone wanted information, and it was valuable. In 1870, the Watson well sparked new interest near Petroleum Centre, and soon McCray was flooded with requests for leases on the nearby farm.¹
Even clear signs could be misread. Oil or gas from the sand pump didn’t always mean a big find. Estimates could shift, and production might drop.³ With hidden geology, private interests, and people’s hopes, it was easy for uncertainty to turn into rumor.
The Street Carried the News
The Petroleum Centre Daily Record sometimes printed rumors, but made sure to label them as unconfirmed. In January 1871, the newspaper called the oil market busy but uncertain. It listed offers, asking prices, and reported sales, then mentioned rumors of a higher price that it couldn’t confirm “to any reliability.”⁴ That difference was important. The editors shared the rumor, but didn’t treat it as a confirmed price.
Venango County newspapers covered an industry that could change from one edition to the next. Eaton warned that well information could quickly become unreliable, and the Record showed that price rumors often arrived before editors could check them.³⁴
But once a rumor was printed, it could spread far beyond where it started. The newspapers weren’t just reporting on oil. They were also reporting on uncertainty.
Faster Than a Barrel
Information was also moving faster through Venango County. Telegraph lines reached Oil City in the early 1860s. By 1866, there was an office on the east side of the city just for oilmen.⁵
Before Oil City had a permanent exchange, dealers bought oil from wells, boats, wharves, and warehouses. An 1890 county history remembered dealers jumping on horses and rushing upriver when prices changed. Later, people even did oil business in passenger train cars.⁵
By 1869, improved transportation and telegraph service were helping to bring more trade to Oil City. That December, a meeting began organizing an exchange. In 1870, the new exchange got space inside the Atlantic and Pacific Telegraph Company’s offices.⁵
The location was logical. Oil still needed to be hauled, piped, stored, and shipped across the county. But now, information could travel faster than the barrels themselves.
The Record advertised a market report for petroleum, stocks, and produce, received every evening by telegraph from New York, Philadelphia, and Pittsburgh. People in Petroleum Centre could now follow faraway markets without waiting for someone to bring the news.⁶
But even with faster news, there was no guarantee of certainty. The news got there quickly, but confirmation still lagged behind.
Newspapers Built for the Boom
The need for oil news changed how newspapers operated in Venango County. According to the 1890 History of Venango County, the Venango Spectator added a local department in December 1861 because petroleum had made local news increasingly important. The Oil City Weekly Register appeared the following month and was devoted especially to news from the oil country.⁵
The Pithole Daily Record followed in 1865. In May 1868, its place of publication changed from Pithole to Petroleum Centre. The Oil City Derrick, established in 1871, published monthly reports of operations and production.⁵
These overlapping systems tell us a lot. People gathered around derricks and asked workers questions. Newspapers focused on oil news. Telegraph reports linked Petroleum Centre to prices far away, and Oil City became a hub for both traders and information.
Rumors didn’t go away. They just became part of a bigger local network.
Acting Before Certainty
It might seem easy to call people in Venango County’s early oil boom gullible, but that overlooks the world they lived in and the choices they faced. The facts were hidden underground. Production could change at any time. News traveled fast, but checking it took longer. Owners, workers, lease sellers, investors, editors, and buyers all had different parts of the story, and their own reasons for sharing or holding back what they knew.
Some rumors were completely false. Others started with a bit of truth. The Record pointed out how a six-barrel pipeline leak turned into a story about a burst tank. Sometimes, an unconfirmed price would spread through the local market.
Venango County found new ways to collect and check information: newspapers in Pithole, Petroleum Centre, and Oil City, telegraph offices, market reports, and the Oil City exchange.
But none of these could get rid of uncertainty completely. People still had to choose whether to believe, wait, sell, buy, drill, or move on, often before they knew all the facts.
The oil boom depended on wells, barrels, pipelines, railroads, and money.
It also depended on information, and on the gap between what people knew and what they hoped was true. Who knew. Who guessed. Who waited. And who moved first.
Discover more stories from the Oil Region at the Venango Museum in Oil City, Pennsylvania.
Sources
McLaurin, John J. Sketches in Crude-Oil. Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: published by the author, 1896.
Petroleum Centre Daily Record, October 29, 1870, p. 2.
Eaton, S. J. M. Petroleum: A History of the Oil Region of Venango County, Pennsylvania. Philadelphia: J. P. Skelly & Co., 1866, pp. 113–127.
Petroleum Centre Daily Record, January 9, 1871, p. 3.
Bell, Herbert C., ed. History of Venango County, Pennsylvania: Its Past and Present. Chicago: Brown, Runk & Co., 1890, particularly pp. 256, 258–261, 455–456, and 471–473.
Petroleum Centre Daily Record, February 19, 1873, p. 4.
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