The Mule's Tale
by Dorothy Crowder

It must have rained much more than usual in the winter of 1918. The streets were unpaved and the sidewalks were little more than wooden crates laid in front of the stores. Oil gushed from untamed wells to fill the streets and the rain came down to mix with the oil. Added to the overload of liquid was the water which came up the wells at times and was diverted into the streets.

Crossing Main Street became a nightmare. Sometimes it was impossible. Many a fair damsel paid twenty-five cents to be carried across by an enterprising young man.

When Lucille Adams boarded a train in Fort Worth to join her new husband in Burkburnett, she dressed very elegantly in her Sunday best because she wished to make a good impression on her groom and his business partners.

As she stepped off the train, she sank into the mire which covered the town. Her new shoes were forever ruined. All of humanity appeared to be impeding her path as she pushed and shoved her way toward the husband she could see only briefly behind the crowds. Her gorgeous, peach-colored dress and her beautiful, fashionable hat were splattered with mud.

When finally reunited, the couple slipped and slid their way to the drug store where Adams worked. As they approached, Mrs. Adams saw how really horrible the situation was. The pharmacists were busy shoveling the mud out the front door.

Into the mire which was Main Street, wagonloads of pipe were driven. There are many versions told by old timers about the mule which drowned on Main Street.

According to legend, a wagon load of oil field pipe was being driven west on Main Street. The heavy load bogged down in the slime. The driver lashed out with his whip and down in the slime. The driver lashed out with his whip and the mules tried mightily. Again and again the unskilled driver tried to get his mules to pull harder. Before the driver was aware of what was happening, the lead mule fell to his knees, sank beneath the mire and suffocated.

The rain which fell from the skies mixed with water, so only artesian water coming from the earth was safe to drink. Dave Abbott had such a well on his property northwest of the city. The barrels of water which he sold at $2.50 were the best crop he ever made, Abbott said.