Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

One Man, Immeasurable Impact


How J. Howard Pew's intense and unwavering belief in the oil sands created an industry.
This article appears in the August issue of Oilsands Review 
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
If he is remembered at all, Americans interested in business history think of J. Howard Pew as an industrialist who created what was once one of the world’s largest energy companies. For Canadians, though, he was the legendary force behind the harnessing of the oilsands. Though his efforts in the oilsands sector were a cash drain for his company – at the time, one of the 20 largest in the United States – for this country he created an industry.

The thumbnail sketch of his life is this: Born in 1882, J. Howard Pew graduated from high school at age 14, from university at 18 and became president of Sun Oil at age 30. With his brother Joseph he transformed Sun (founded by his father; now called Sunoco) by introducing new refining, marketing, and distribution techniques. He was astute. During the First World War he responded to the war-time demand for crude by building a navy of tankers. That fleet became one of Sun’s most profitable businesses.

A publication celebrating Sun Oil’s centenary in 1986 described the man, who had died in 1971. “Tall and broad-shouldered, with bushy eyebrows, he was often seen clutching an enormous cigar in his fingers as he moved about Sun’s corridors. He was intense, sure of himself and deliberate in his speech even in old age.”

The Venerable Pew: An extreme conservative in his religious and political views, Pew was passionate about his work. “Working for Sun Company these years has been not merely a job,” he said in 1956. “It has been participation in an exciting adventure – a way of life providing satisfaction in the accomplishment of our goals. So our people have become a great team, welded together by great ideals and purposes accepted by each of us.”

In the 1940s the venerable Pew took a serious interest in the oilsands, in part because of an investigation of potential crude oil sources Sun undertook during the Second World War. In the early 1950s, George Dunlap had a remarkable interview with Pew before moving to Calgary to set up Sun’s Canadian exploration and production operations.

“I have one area that I am interested in and would like to share with you my interest,” Pew told him. He went to a cabinet to pull out a thick file marked “Athabasca Tar Sands,” then shared his vision of the future importance of the oilsands. He told Dunlap to ensure that “Sun Oil always has a ‘significant position’ in the Athabasca Tar Sands area!”

The venture was called Great Canadian Oil Sands Limited (now the Suncor plant), and in 1962 the Oil and Gas Conservation Board (today the ERCB) granted approval for the company to proceed with a 31,500 barrel-per-day, $122 million plant, but imposed severe environmental restrictions on the plant. The partners had serious concerns about economies of scale for such a small project. Costs began to rise and financial difficulties ensued. By 1964 it was clear that a company with deep pockets – not Canadian Oil Sands Ltd. – was needed to lead GCOS. Sun took on that responsibility. The capacity of the proposed plant increased to 45,000 barrels per day and the cost escalated from $122 to $190 million.

The larger plant received approval in 1964, partly because Pew wrote a letter to the Petroleum Resources Conservation Board (now the ERCB) saying “I believe in the future of this project and I will put up my own money without reservations if the permit is approved.” Read aloud at a meeting of the Conservation Board, that letter carried the day. By the time GCOS reached completion in 1967, costs had risen to $235 million.

Building the Plant: The contractor for the project was Bechtel of Canada, and the engineer representing Sun during construction was Robert (Bob) McClements, Jr., who later became chairman and CEO of Sun Oil. McClements described Pew as “one of the strongest influences on my life.”

Pew would visit the construction site and “we would have engineering (and other) discussions. He would ask ‘How much does it cost to feed a man an average twelve hours on a shift?’ He was very, very detailed. I still remember: it was six to eight pounds of food per person per day and a little less than $2.00 per person to feed a construction worker… Anyway, there was a side of J. Howard that I don’t think has really been widely recognized. I think many people would describe him first perhaps as an industrialist. He was certainly known as the leader of a large corporation. Sun was always in the top 20 of the Forbes list of companies. It was a huge company. But there was also a spiritual side to him. He was a very religious individual. His conversations often included two words: faith and freedom, and they were welded together….”

The Sun Company McClements joined in the 1960s was much different from those in today’s oilpatch. “There was no retirement plan, there was no healthcare plan, there was no sick plan. When you were sick, you took your own time off….You would pay for that time. When you retired – and nobody quit and nobody was ever fired at the Sun Company – you retired at 50% of your pay. There were no documents explaining this in those days.”

McClements described the only meeting he attended between Pew and Premier Ernest Manning. “I’m telling you I’ve never been in a business meeting in my life like that. It was like you and me sitting here talking. There were no hard specifics. (There) was a feeling of absolute trust between the two of them. And I remember when I went back to the plant, somebody asked me about it. Without thinking, I said ‘Those two men just reeked with honesty.’ The relationship they had was unbelievable, exactly the same wavelength.”

McClements served as master of ceremonies at the official GCOS opening. A Sun Company publication commemorating the event quoted him as saying “synthetic crude is a natural for petrochemicals. I see no reason why the stretch along the Athabasca (river) cannot become an industrial valley in time.”

McClements vividly remembered the official opening. “It was the end of September in 1967 at the dedication of the plant. Pouring rain, not a very good day at all.” Premier Ernest Manning and Pew (then 85 years old) both addressed the audience of about 200.

According to Manning, “no other event in Canada’s centennial year is more important or significant.… It is fitting that we are gathered here today to dedicate this plant not merely to the production of oil but to the continual progress and enrichment of mankind.” For his part, Pew told the assembly that “No nation can long be secure in this atomic age unless it be amply supplied with petroleum. It is the considered opinion of our group that if the North American continent is to produce the oil to meet its requirements in the years ahead, oil from the Athabasca area must of necessity play an important role.”

McClements, who was the first plant manager for GCOS, recalled a tour he gave Pew once production had begun. “We had visited the mine and were in the refining section of the plant (when he) asked to see a sample of what we were running and I asked an engineer to pull a sample of the product we were making at the moment. Mr. Pew took the bottle and held it up to the light. It was water white. He unscrewed the cap, held one nostril and sniffed the oil again. Finally, he stuck his finger in the bottle and tasted the oil. When he did, you could just see his face beam.”

A broad view of the GCOS story comes from Paul Chastko, a renowned oilsands historian. “When Great Canadian Oil Sands began production in 1968, it represented a remarkable achievement,” he wrote: “a Canadian company, backed by the investment capital of a U.S. multinational corporation, used a separation process researched and developed by scientists funded by the governments of Canada and Alberta to produce a synthetic oil capable of competing against conventional Saudi crude in world oil markets.” All true, but the energy behind this effort was the vision of J. Howard Pew. The impact on the oilsands of this one man has been immeasurable.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Where it All Began

Equipment in the Underground Test Facility proved the effectiveness of  SAGD 
A quarter-century after the first Canadian horizontal well was drilled, the technology is the cornerstone of today's industry.
This article appears in the June issue of Oilweek
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
The world of oil and gas was quite a different place a quarter century ago. Production mostly came straight up out of vertical holes. Though the Texans had drilled the first horizontal well in 1929, in Canada horizontal drilling was still mostly an esoteric, unproved and untested technology.

In 1987, all that began to change – so much so that, during the last 25 years, it simultaneously emerged as a standard production technique and revolutionized production. One result is that many petroleum resources have become technology-driven plays. Another is that reserves are way, way up.

In a sense, the most important uses of horizontal drilling technologies are reverse images of each other. “What makes horizontal drilling for nonconventional resources (like shale gas and tight oil) so attractive to the financial community is the very high initial rate of return. In the beginning, production rates are extremely high, although they quickly taper off. You have to remember that these applications enable you to get highly desirable hydrocarbons out of really poor reservoirs,” according to Dave Russum, who is director of geosciences at AJM Deloitte, a consultancy.

The oilsands represent the mirror image of this situation. “You are drilling into tremendous reservoir rocks – highly porous and very permeable, so there’s plenty of oil in there. But until you process the stuff it isn’t a particularly attractive commodity.”

The Bitumen Story
It’s true that in April 1978 Imperial Oil drilled Canada’s first horizontal well into the Clearwater formation at Cold Lake – a storied well overseen by Dr. Roger Butler in an early test of a system of oilsands production now known as steam-assisted gravity drainage (SAGD). After that test and a less interesting effort by Texaco a couple of years later, in Canada the technique mostly languished until 1987.

Then the advent of improved down-hole drilling motors and the invention of other necessary supporting equipment, materials, and technologies – particularly down-hole telemetry equipment, which enabled rigs to drill straight on target – led to an explosion of new applications for this technology. Producers and the drilling and service firms that support them found endless new uses for directional drilling – especially as it is used for horizontal wells.

Appropriately, in Canada the first horizontal wells drilled after Imperial’s early test were part of the Underground Test Facility (UTF), which celebrated its official opening on June 29th, 1987. Developed by the Alberta Oil Sands Technology and Research Authority (AOSTRA), the UTF involved a pair of tunnels driven into limestone 15 metres below the reservoir.

Within those tunnels, AOSTRA constructed large well chambers. “Pairs of injection and production wells were drilled upwards from the well chambers at a 170 slant,” according to the mining engineer behind the project, Gerry Stephenson, “and deflected horizontally into the base of the reservoir. The mobilized bitumen drained by gravity from the steam chamber in the reservoir to the well head in the tunnel and all of the production was pumped from a central location.” Those tests proved Butler’s theories about SAGD beyond any possible doubt.

Over its 15-year life, the UTF also evaluated other recovery strategies, but nothing compared to its SAGD results. “AOSTRA’s staff had estimated that the recovery might be somewhere between 30 percent and 45 percent of the bitumen in place” during the Phase A tests, according to Stephenson. “We actually got 65 percent recovery. The steam chambers formed by mobilization of the bitumen spread way beyond the area we’d expected….Over the 10-year life of the well pairs, Phase B got a steam/oil ratio, the most critical figure of all, of 2.3 to one.”

The tests at the UTF forever transformed Canada’s oilsands industry. Today, SAGD is responsible for more than half of Canada’s bitumen production.

Ironically, Sceptre Resources drilled the first horizontal well in Saskatchewan to test a SAGD-like system at Tangleflags, just as the UTF began its definitive tests. Drilled into the shallow (450-metre) Lloydminster sandstone, this primitive application of a form of SAGD illustrated the kinds of problems horizontal drilling could overcome. With an active aquifer below and a gas cap above, the reservoir’s pay thickness was about 27 metres. The oil was heavy: about 13o API. Primary production from the field had been meagre (0.6% of the oil in place), and the use of cyclic steam stimulation, which uses vertical production wells, had flopped when they tapped the aquifer and started producing 99% water.

That was when the company decided to try SAGD – not the technique we use today, but the primitive version Imperial had tried out nine years earlier. Sceptre injected steam through four vertical wells near the gas-oil contact, draining the mobilized oil through a horizontal well. At the industry’s leading edge, the company found itself with a technical and economic success.

Fast Production from Tight Reservoirs
More than any other series of innovations, the technology-intensive processes that now surround directional drilling have enabled the industry to get production out of otherwise unproductive rock. In August of that same transformational year, Alberta Energy drilled the first horizontal well into the Glauconitic formation at Suffield. This was the first time a Canadian operator drilled horizontally into a conventional oilfield.

Things then quickly sped up. In February 1998 alone, three significant projects based on horizontal drilling took off. Amoco began a 10-well horizontal drilling program at Athabasca, into the Wabiskaw formation. Canadian Hunter drilled gas wells at Ansell (Alberta) into the Cardium formation and at Helmet (British Columbia) into the Jean Marie. A few months later, Shell Canada drilled for Mississippian oil in Saskatchewan, at Weyburn. This early application of the technology was meant to connect isolated small reservoirs or improving contact within heterogeneous rocks to enhance the sweep efficiency.

“In the 1990s the big push was to explore conventional carbonate rocks, especially from the Mississippian in Saskatchewan,” according to AJM Deloitte’s Russum. “The idea was to develop known reservoirs where the rock quality was variable, using horizontal wells to extract more oil from those formations…. Many different companies hopped on to the horizontal drilling band wagon in Saskatchewan with more than 500 wells drilled into the Mississippian in 1997 alone.  In that year more than 1300 horizontal oil wells were drilled across the basin – a tally that was not beaten until 2007.”

Horizontal drilling also began to tap the heavier oils in Saskatchewan and southeastern Alberta in the 1990s, and there was a lot of experimentation in other reservoirs. Also, of course, in that decade SAGD began to be developed in its modern form.

As horizontal drilling became more commonplace, the petroleum industry began combining it with innovations in both drilling and well completion technologies and ideas. The result has been like a snowball rolling downhill. Horizontal drilling has been enhanced by geo-steering, measurement-while-drilling, coil tubing, down-hole motors and new bit design, for example. Also, producers can now drill multilateral horizontal wells from a single drilling pad.

Perhaps the important recent development on the drilling side is the monobore. Monobore drilling involves running a casing string, then forcing a steel cone down the well to expand it in the hole. This process is repeated with identical casing strings. Thus, monobore completions have the revolutionary characteristic of installing a string with the same interior diameter from top to bottom. “These are making a huge difference,” said Russum. “In the past you had to drill a vertical well, then run the casing to the bottom and wait for the casing to set before you could begin to drill the horizontal leg. Monobores help reduce those time-consuming steps.”

Although technologies like microseismic are also making a difference, the most important developments on the completion side have involved the increasing power and sophistication of hydraulic fracturing. Better fracking has developed because of new packers, better pumping equipment and better treatment fluids and proppants. “It’s now easier to isolate horizontal wells and to put fractures into certain points of the formation,” according to Russum. “In the early days, each stage of multistage fracking would take a whole day. Each frack would have to be tested separately before you proceeded to the next one. Today it’s a continuous process.”

These clusters of technological breakthroughs first created the shale gas revolution. Pioneered by an American, George Mitchell, in the Barnett shale in Texas, tight gas reservoirs began yielding highly economic volumes of natural gas – and, not incidentally, drove down the price of gas. Some observers now describe natural gas as a low-value by-product encountered in shale reservoirs in the quest for natural gas liquids.

From a production perspective, the other great outcome from this cluster of technologies has been the development of tight oil from shale – what Russum prefers to call “conventional oil from more shaley, low-permeability reservoirs.” One outcome is that both western Canada and the US are experiencing growing light oil production for the first time in decades – much of it coming from the Bakken play in North Dakota and Montana. After decades of decline in Alberta, for example, light oil production has recently risen to ten year highs.

An Explosion of Uses
These new technologies are changing almost everything about Canada’s petroleum industry. For example, horizontal wells are now a huge part of gas storage. “You can store gas very quickly into those wells,” said Russum, “and you can extract it quickly, too. Then there is the whole area of trying to reduce surface impact. I think we’re going to see more and more of that. Surface owners are more and more reluctant to have pumpjacks and other surface equipment on their land, and horizontal wells are less likely to disturb natural habitat. There is also extended reach, so you can reach under lakes and towns and cities. You can use it to reduce water production in a thin reservoir located over an aquifer.”

The economics of the horizontal well are also greatly improved, especially when you are planning production from a narrow reservoir – ten metres thick, for example. Horizontal wells provide much greater contact with the reservoir per dollar of drilling than do their vertical kin. And when they are drilled in search of unconventional resources like shale gas and tight oil, the producer gets a quick payback because initial production rates are so high.

Still not convinced? Then let the numbers tell the tale. According to an AJM Deloitte study which is complete to late 2011, more than 30,000 horizontal wells have produced conventional oil or gas in Western Canada over the past twenty five years.  Of that tally, 4,300 were completed in 2011.  This set a record for horizontal oil drilling: nearly 3,500 wells (led by the Cardium, Viking and Bakken), and an additional 800 wells focused on gas – mainly attracted by the high liquids content in the Montney and Middle Mannville. Today, half of Western Canada’s wells are being drilled horizontally.

Is horizontal drilling helping bring about any other changes? Perhaps it is even changing the way corporations work. “Companies that fail to adequately research the geology are putting themselves at considerable risk if they assume all resource plays are alike and that more and larger fracks are the solution to economic production,” according to Russum. Even so, engineers are increasingly replacing geologists in the executive suite.

Traditional geologists who spent entire careers looking for conventional reservoirs are now more interested in minor variations in rock properties, in stress regimes and in proximity to source rock. In terms of traditional petro-geology this is a difficult concept to grasp, but to a large extent it is a response to the revolution spawned by horizontal drilling.

Oilsands companies in particular, but also other companies involved in modern resource plays are basing their business plans on step-by-step, decades-long development of vast and well-defined resources. This means traditional wheeling-and-dealing is at least partly on the decline – to a large extent replaced by courting cash-rich foreign companies with deep pockets and the desire to support these capital-intensive activities.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Tallying the Oil Reserves


How Canada made it to number three in the world

This article appears in the April issue of Oilsands Review
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
The issue of how much recoverable oil is in the ground in Canada has been a matter of political and commercial interest since the first surveys undertaken by the Geological Survey of Canada in the 1870s.

American eyes were opened to the true potential in April 2003 at a hearing of the U.S. Senate’s foreign relations committee. Convened to examine international energy security, the committee learned that Canada was an energy superpower. Alberta’s energy regulator had changed its method of calculating oilsands reserves, with the result that booked reserves in Canada suddenly rose from 5 billion to 180 billion barrels.

Canada suddenly stood in second place worldwide after Saudi Arabia. The Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers (CAPP) has since moved Canada into third place by accepting a calculation of Venezuela’s vast extra-heavy crude oil reserves which puts that country at the head of the pack.

No one knows what happened to the eyes of Canadian senators when they heard the first credible estimate of how much oil was in place in the Athabasca area, at a hearing that took place in 1888. The senators were provided with an estimate from R.G. McConnell of the Geological and Natural Survey of Canada.

McConnell’s calculation came from assumptions based on field and lab work: first, there were at least 1,000 square miles of bitumen-saturated sand in the area; second, the sands were 150 to 225 feet thick; third, and this result came from laboratory tests that involved boiling oilsand samples, that the bitumen content averaged 12 per cent by weight. Therefore there were about 30 million “long tons” of bitumen in place—roughly speaking, 220 million barrels. McConnell’s estimate was short by orders of magnitude; to put it in perspective, Canada now consumes about 200 million barrels every three months.

McConnell’s number was an estimate of resources in place, of course, and not a reserves estimate. At that time the very concept of reserves – hydrocarbons that are economically producible at current prices using current technology – was unknown. No one had any idea how to calculate what percentage of oil in the ground would ever see the inside of a pipeline.

Bedevilled engineers
Petroleum engineering gradually emerged as a profession, and engineers soon figured out how to book reserves from conventional oil and gas reservoirs. However, how to calculate oilsands reserves was an issue that bedevilled engineers and geologists for many decades. This led to some curious anomalies.

For example, when the $235 million, 45,000 barrel per day Great Canadian Oil Sands (now Suncor Energy Inc.) plant went on stream in 1967, it represented a substantial investment for the company and soon became a significant contributor to Canadian oil supply. The Canadian Petroleum Association (CPA-now CAPP) booked 6.3 billion barrels of oilsands reserves in its authoritative Statistical Handbook when the project went on stream, but reduced that number to about 1.5 billion in 1975. And when the 140,000 barrel per day, $2.3 billion Syncrude plant went on stream in 1978, the situation became even more absurd: the association didn’t add any new reserves. It was as though the oil was appearing out of nowhere. By the early 1980s a growing number of in situ projects, including Imperial’s Cold Lake activities, made the situation untenable.

According to Hans Maciej, retired vice president of the CPA, in the early 1980s he asked the group’s reserves committee, “‘Where the hell is [the oil] coming from?’ That was quite the discussion,” he recalls.

The committee eventually agreed that they had a problem, but there further endless questions about how to resolve it. “One thing was very easy,” says Maciej. “We could put whatever Great Canadian Oil Sands produced, let’s say it produced a million barrels that year and just add it to reserves – you know, wipe it out. Well that didn’t go very far. [However], after lengthy discussions we decided that we would credit every producing project, and every project that had approval and was sort of certain to go ahead. There was some judgment involved, but we said we would [book their reserves at] 25 times their annual production.” Maciej adds, “This was a very conservative estimate, [but] just to get things going we finally agreed on 25 years.”

CAPP’s reserves committee relies heavily on data provided by its member companies, and the association laboured mightily to stay on top of the country’s burgeoning oilsands reserves, which with special speed during the last 15 years as Syncrude and Suncor expanded, new mines came on stream and in situ projects multiplied.

However, according to CAPP’s research manager, Steve Rodrigues, it became increasingly difficult to get the necessary data from oilsands producers in the last decade – “not because of concerns about revealing competitive information, but because companies increasingly felt that they were not adding value by generating this information.”

One result was that CAPP’s calculation of oilsands reserves – historically, the Canadian standard – now compared to those being calculated by provincial and federal regulators. The numbers presented to the U.S. Senate’s foreign affairs committee were, after all, government numbers, and they were 24 times greater than CAPP’s.

Throwing in the towel
Where did the regulators get their numbers? In a recent presentation, Neil McCrank, who served as chair of the Alberta Energy and Utilities Board until 2007, offered the background. The “new focus on in situ development created a need for the regulators to find new ways of assessing and monitoring these projects…one of the major contributions made by the [regulator] was to recognize the need to re-categorize the in situ bitumen ‘resource’ to a ‘reserve’ where it was proven on the ‘core and cuttings’ analysis to be commercially viable with current technology.”

Bob Taylor, who was then Alberta’s assistant deputy minister for oil development, stresses that the Department of Energy does not play a role in these discussions. However, he says, the information used to recalculate reserves would have been rigorous and the models used would have been mathematically challenging.

“Every leaseholder is obligated to go out and prove up a resource on the basis of one well per section, or the equivalent of one well per section plus some seismic, so it might be one well every couple of sections with seismic lines connecting them so that you can get the stratigraphy. So what [the regulator] did was to have geologists look at each company’s assets,” while examining proven technologies and likely future demand. Using all this information, they created models that could generate highly credible reserves calculations.

Such was the origin of the proved reserves that caused so much excitement in Washington in 2003. According to the McCrank, the announcement of more than 173 billion barrels of oilsands reserves “was initially criticized, but after a stout defence of its scientific approach… the international oil and gas community accepted these reserves calculations.”

So did CAPP. In 2010 the organization threw in the towel as far as using its own method of calculation was concerned. An organization that has celebrated its independence from government since its earliest predecessor was formed in 1927 began using numbers from both Alberta and federal regulators as the basis for calculating oilsands reserves.

The association’s in situ oilsands reserves suddenly jumped by around 2,000 per cent, while its mineable reserves more than tripled. Canada’s industry had caught up with its regulators, and the results were parabolic.

Of course, reserves estimates will never be unanimous. The most widely accepted global authority on energy numbers, BP’s Statistical Review of World Energy, most recently puts Canadian oil reserves at 33 billion barrels, or tenth place. Venezuela at 175 billion stood in second place, while Saudi Arabia is the top dog at 264 billion.

We’ve come a long way since 1888, but we still have a way to go.

This article is part of a  series which reflects information from the Petroleum History Society’s current Oil Sands Oral History Project, which is recording the stories of oilsands pioneers in their own words. As with its previous oral history projects, transcripts and recordings will reside in Calgary’s Glenbow Archives. Peter McKenzie-Brown is part of the team of researchers/writers behind the project.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Saving Money with Monster Trucks

HOURGLASS: Lessons from the Oil Sands Oral History Project

Three stories tall, these trucks now seem like an obvious approach to 
ore delivery. That wasn't the case in  the beginning.
Retired Syncrude COO Jim Carter describes an oilsands mining technology revolution.

This article appears in the December Oilsands Review

By Adriana Davies
The haul trucks used in today’s oilsands mining industry are some of the biggest in the world—1.4-million-pound, 20-foot-tall, multi-million dollar behemoths ferrying 400-tonne loads of bitumen ore from the hydraulic shovel to the crusher at top speeds of 40 miles per hour. And this is the more agile and economic option.

In the 1980s, trucks and shovels began to replace burdensome and even more costly bucket-wheel and dragline equipment. The new system was first incorporated into overburden removal, and then for the ore itself—enabling oilsands mining producers to operate and expand in a more cost-effective and selective manner. One of the key people recognized for driving this revolutionary technology change is Jim Carter, former president and chief operating officer of Syncrude Canada Ltd.

Jim Carter was a graduate of mining engineering from Nova Scotia Technical College when he heeded the call to “go west, young man.” He had gotten a taste for mining work through summer jobs in Ontario while in high school, and his first job after graduation was with the Iron Ore Company of Canada in Labrador City, N.L. In 1974, Carter was enticed to move to Alberta by a former colleague. He went to work for Smoky River Coal Limited in Grande Cache, rising from mine foreman to mine manager and finally, mine superintendent.

It was when he headed up a provincial study examining mine lighting that he met Dennis Love, general manager of mining at Syncrude. Carter recalls Love’s comment to him about the operation: “Jim, we’ve got a bit of a challenge here with our mine plan. It’s not quite working the way we’d thought. We’re going to have to move to truck and shovel stripping of the overburden, and move our draglines and buckets onto oilsands.” It was an opportunity that the 29-year-old couldn’t pass up. In 1979, Carter went to work for Syncrude as manager of overburden operations.

He says, “The original plan had the dragline sitting on top of the overburden and then digging it and putting it into the pit all at the same time as casting up the oilsands. What happened was that the overburden would not stay at a steep angle. It wanted to go flat, and it contaminated the oilsands, therefore rendering that mine plan inoperative.”

These were the very early days of Syncrude, when various theories not only to do with the mining operations but also the chemistry of extracting the oil from the sand were being tested on an industrial scale rather than in the lab. Carter notes: “The whole industry was really viewed as a bit of a curiosity in those days. Nobody really believed that we were going to be successful with this very complex business of mining the oilsands and extracting the bitumen, then taking this very, very heavy oil and upgrading it to a light, sweet crude that was then usable in refineries to turn into gasoline and diesel fuel, propane and whatever. The world didn’t know much about the oilsands. Certainly, even in Edmonton it wasn’t really that well-known. Calgary, it wasn’t well-known. Toronto, they didn’t know about it at all. So, if you were going to get involved in something that was really a pioneering endeavour of the highest order, this was it.”

The other issue was the link between the oil business and mining; this was not a natural match. To merge the two operations, as was happening north of Fort McMurray, Alta., was viewed with great skepticism. But they were doing it, and in driving the shift to trucks and shovels, Carter was set to play a pivotal role.

His first big challenge was sizing up the geotechnical issues associated with the soft landscape.

“Because the oilsands are soft to traffic on, there wasn’t a lot of aggregate material around for building the roads, and yet we had to move these high volumes. I wanted to use the 170-tonne trucks because those were the largest in the industry at the time, and I knew that the unit cost per tonne-mile of moving a tonne with those was going to be lower than, say, an 85-tonne truck or a 50-tonne truck, even though the conditions were very soft,” Carter explains.

“The biggest challenge I had initially was convincing people there that we could do this successfully. Great Canadian Oil Sands at the time had tried the big 150-tonne trucks, and they didn’t have much success with them. They were switching their fleet back down to 85-tonne, mechanical-drive trucks. There was a lot of skepticism to overcome, shall we say. But we persevered on that and ended up being very successful.”

If existing trucks couldn’t do the work required, then, they would need to be redesigned. In Labrador City in the iron ore business, Carter had used a particular brand of 170-tonne truck called the Terex, which was made by GM in London, Ont. It worked well in severe conditions and had a robust drive system. Carter had actually spent time with the manufacturer in their engineering offices and noted that they used the same drive motors in this truck as they did in their railway locomotives—a technology that could help move across the soft oilsands mine floor.

“The locomotive, when it goes to get started, starts off with the electricity going to the motors in series, and then it switches to series parallel, and then to parallel once it gets rolling and gets its speed up. I had thought this would be a great advantage to use in the oilsands because the trucks normally have power going to the wheel motors in parallel.” He and other Syncrude representatives asked GM whether they could do the series parallel arrangement on the trucks, and GM agreed.

The result was a design that enabled the operator to switch from parallel into series when he got on the waste dump, when the rolling resistance was really high in the soft conditions. Carter says, “It increased the torque to the rear wheels by about 45 per cent, so it made a tremendous advantage for getting across these soft waste dumps. Now, of course, whenever you do that, you’re putting more horsepower into the components, so we needed to build a bigger axle, a larger-diameter axle, which became known as the tar sands axle on those trucks. It gave them the capacity to haul a 200-tonne payload across the soft conditions. It was really then that we realized we could make these trucks work, and we used radial tires. Radial tires tend to have a greater footprint, so they got the ground-bearing pressure lower, and that enabled them to traffic over the softer conditions.”

Carter says that once the Syncrude team started using trucks and shovels for overburden removal, other opportunities for the system presented themselves.

“The first year that we had the fleet running, it was designated as a six-million-cubic-metre-a-year fleet, and we actually moved 10 million cubic metres within the first year, so it was a great success. It was the initial success of that particular fleet that enabled us then to really look at trucks and shovels on a go-forward basis. It meant that we weren’t going to be limited to bucket-wheel excavators and conveyors and draglines. So that opened up opportunities for other technologies to be introduced into the mining system.”

By the late 1990s, the truck and shovel system was well underway in replacing draglines and bucket-wheels in the oilsands industry, a technology change that has enabled the cost-effective expansion of mining operations. Syncrude retired its last bucket-wheel and dragline in 2006.

Carter steadily rose through the ranks at Syncrude, eventually taking on the role of president and chief operating officer in 1997, which he held until retiring in 2007.
This article is one in a series reflecting information from the Petroleum History Society’s Oil Sands Oral History Project, which is recording the stories of oilsands pioneers in their own words. As with the society’s previous oral history projects, transcripts and recordings will reside in Calgary’s Glenbow Archives. Adriana Davies is part of the team of researchers/writers behind the project.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Mary Clark Sheppard on her Father, Karl Clark

Mary Clark Sheppard on her father - Karl Clark - and the quintessential oilsands research breakthrough.
This article appears in the September issue of Oilsands Review
By Adriana A. Davies

The renowned "father of the oilsands," Karl Clark spent his entire working career technically outside of his discipline. An inorganic chemist by training, Clark's life work was in organic chemistry. His daughter and biographer, Mary Clark Sheppard, recently described his path.

After being awarded a Ph.D. in Chemistry by the University of Illinois in Urbana in 1915, Clark went to work for the Geological Survey of Canada. Because he had previously done soil surveying in Ontario, he was assigned to road materials research.

In July 1917, Eugene Haanel, Director of the Mines Branch, asked Clark to read a collection of working papers written by Sidney C. Ells, titled “Notes on Certain Aspects of the Proposed Commercial Development of the Deposits of Bituminous Sands in the Province of Alberta.” Mary notes that Clark was uncomfortable reading a senior colleagues’ work and critiquing and making sense of it but, together with geologist/topographer J. Keele, he wrote a 5,000 word review.

In summer 1918, Clark went to Manitoba as part of his field work and was able to see first-hand the difficulty of road maintenance. He worked around Brandon and, in Mary’s words, “noted that the soil made wonderful roads in the summertime when it was hot and dry, but the clay – everything slipped apart when it got wet, and he thought if you could only – it sounds pretty simplistic now – if you could only waterproof the clay then that might be a way of preserving roads. Of course, after the war and certainly by the early 1920s, roads were big. I mean everybody had a car then, and farmers had to get things to the railway and all the rest of it.”

Clark began to ponder a solution involving the water repellant properties of oil. This theory, in brief was that, if he could obtain oil from tar sands and mix it with the clay surfaces, he could waterproof them. Mary continues, “So back in his lab, in Ottawa in the winter, he got some tar sands and he thought if he could emulsify them ...you could put this emulsification on the road. Well, instead of getting an emulsion he got a separation. That was the big ‘ah ha’ moment. He got this separation. He’d got... sand in the bottom, oil in the middle, and water on the top. So he’d got these three things, but he had to get the oil out without the sand and the water; particularly, the sand. He tried everything possible but the oil and water got mixed up again.”

In chemical terms, what Clark had succeeded in doing was a “colloidal suspension” (the suspension of a solid in a liquid, in this case two “solids’ since bitumen is thicker than water). This discovery has spurred oil sands research until today. Mary noted that this happened in 1919 but he was told to stop the research and that the orders “came down from on high.” She believes that it was because Ells had returned from the war and that Ottawa and Alberta were fighting about the bituminous oilsand resources.

The feds had tried sinking a well at Athabasca Landing as early as 1894 but that and several other efforts had failed. Federal bituminous sands research was under the control of the Honorary Advisory Council for Scientific and Technical Research. The proprietary attitude of Ottawa with respect to resource development did not sit well with the government of Alberta or University of Alberta President Henry Marshall Tory. Mary notes: “Tory, I think quite rightly said, ‘If this is going to go on in my university, it’s going to be under my control’.”

In 1919, Tory visited Ottawa looking for someone who could take on research on oil and coal in Alberta. His vision was that the University that he helped to found would support province-building through research leading to economic development. In the Mines Branch, he heard of the great excitement about Clark’s discovery and, according to Mary, “he went straight to my Dad and persuaded him to come out to Alberta. Correspondence between the two continued on Tory’s return to Alberta and, by September [1920], my Mom and dad were in Alberta.” Tory wanted Edgar Stansfield of the Mines Branch to come out first to head up coal research but Stansfield had work to tie up that would take him a year. Thus, Clark became the first full-time member of the Research Department with a focus on tar sands research. On January 6th, 1921, by an Order-in-Council, the Industrial Research Council of Alberta was established (becoming in 1930, the Research Council of Alberta; in 1981, the Alberta Research Council; and, most recently, Alberta Innovates Technology Futures).

Tory was a staunch supporter of Clark’s efforts and a railway line to Fort McMurray made it easy to get supplies of bituminous sands for research. To facilitate Clark’s research, in the winter of 1919, Tory had secured about six tons of the bituminous sand and stockpiled it on campus. He instructed Clark to begin his research from scratch without reference to the previous work of Ells (Ells was interested in the use of super-heated steam for separation). Clark would focus his research on separation based on the use of a chemical reagent.

In 1922, Sidney Blair came to the University of Alberta and was hired by Clark as his assistant. He began surveying up north as a part of his Master’s degree program. Mary has described her father as “a quiet self-effacing intellectual” while Blair was “worldly, self-confident and aggressive.” Together they forged a solid team working together for three-and-a-half years.

Clark’s oil sands research continued throughout the Great Depression of the 1930s when most of the research staff at the Council were let go. Clark and Stansfield became part of the Faculty of Applied Science. When they had moved to the employ of the Research Council, in a far-sighted move, Tory had insisted that they be given Faculty status. The Research Council was revived in December, 1942, nearly 10 years after it effectively ceased operations. The new chairman was N.E. Tanner, minister of Lands and Mines.

While initially, Clark continued his research in relation to finding a waterproof coating material for roads, eventually, he realized the importance of the tar sands as a source of refined oil products. He had his separation facilities in the University power plant, Everything was carefully tested from the amount of sodium silicate used as a surface-active agent or soap, to the temperature of the water, amount of power consumed and duration of heating period. His process and technology was eventually piloted at Bitumount and Abasands.

In December, 1949 just after the Abasands plant closed for the winter, Blair was commissioned by the government of Alberta to make a comprehensive study of both the technical and economic viability of actual mining, separation, delivery and sale of oil derived from tar sands to southern Ontario refineries. The Blair Report, officially, The Development of the Alberta Bituminous Sands was published a year later. Mary notes: “Blair concluded, even though the price of oil was only $3 a barrel – it seems hard to believe – his reckoning was that you could produce it for $2.50. That was challenged later as they said he didn’t take into account all the capital investment for background things like roads and whatnot. That was assuming everything was in, which of course it wasn’t.” The next step was the convening of an international symposium in September 1951 on all aspects of the oil sands, which was attended by one hundred and twenty delegates.

Clark, Blair and Tanner would usher in the next era of development. The prototype science and technology were in place to be shared with industry; the Government of Alberta wanted to see the oil sands developed; and, finally, the destabilization of the Middle East (the Suez Crisis in 1956) made the oil companies look more seriously at tar sands development.

Mary had a final observation on the name oil sands: “You see, they were always known as bituminous sands officially. They were known as tar sands colloquially. It was like a nickname – a loving nickname. But that’s all it was, but after the Blair Report came out, and they knew that they could produce a crude oil because refining techniques had so improved. Then, Dad and Blair said they should no longer be called bituminous sands, or tar, because we now know they are a source of crude oil. They were now oil sands, and so officially by the Research Council, by order of something or other. I’ve got it written down in one of my books. That’s when they were officially reclassified as oil sands.” This was confirmed when the Alberta Oil Sands Authority was set up in 1973 by Premier Lougheed.

This article is the second in a series that reflects information from the Petroleum History Society’s current Oil Sands Oral History Project, which is recording the stories of oilsands pioneers in their own words. As with its previous oral history projects, transcripts and recordings will reside in Calgary’s Glenbow Archives. Adriana Davies is part of the team of researchers/writers behind the project.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

How Public Money Saved Syncrude

This article appears in the August issue of Oilsands Review
A quarter-century after Peter Lougheed retired as Alberta’s first Progressive Conservative premier, he is sitting in Calgary’s historic Lougheed House (a mansion built by his grandfather a century ago), reflecting on his government’s impact on the oil sands.
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
Lougheed won a seat in Alberta’s Legislature in 1967, the year the doors opened on the Great Canadian Oil Sands (now Suncor) mine and upgrader; he became premier four years later. During 14 years at the helm, he took an active role in oilsands development. “It was obvious that the oil sands were owned by the people of Alberta,” he says. “We consistently and constantly made sure that the industry understood that the Government of Alberta was the owner and we weren’t just there in a supervisory or regulatory way. We were extensively involved because we were the owners.”

Fast-forward to 1974, when the province’s resource ownership and its commitment to play an active role in development helped revive Syncrude during a near-death experience.

The project had received regulatory approval in 1968, but by 1974 the projected cost of the plant had more than doubled to $2 billion. At year-end Atlantic Richfield Corporation, which was developing its Prudhoe Bay assets, sent its partners a telegram saying that effective January 1st they were pulling out. The remaining participants – Cities Service Canada, Imperial Oil and Gulf Canada – were paying $666 per minute for an increasingly dicey-looking project.

Energy Shock and Energy War
The world’s first energy shock was in high gear. During the previous three years, global oil prices had more than tripled to $11.50 per barrel. While this should have created an energy boom, in Canada it didn’t.

The environment in 1973 was one of high inflation and rising oil prices, and in September Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau asked the western provinces to agree to a voluntary freeze on domestic prices. Nine days later, his government imposed a $0.40 tax on every barrel of exported oil. The tax equalled the difference between domestic and international prices, and the revenues were used to subsidize imports for refiners in eastern Canada.

Outraged that Ottawa would tax a provincial resource, Alberta retaliated in early October. The province cancelled the Alberta Oil Revenue and Royalty Plan effective at yearend, eliminated maximum royalty provisions in all leases and introduced a price-related royalty system. Days later came the Arab/Israeli Yom Kippur War and an embargo by Arab states on oil deliveries to the US and Western Europe. As international prices skyrocketed, so did Ottawa’s export tax. For the rest of the 1970s, OPEC sat in the oil price driver’s seat.

In December Trudeau announced a National Oil Policy “designed to reach Canadian self-sufficiency in oil and oil products before the end of this decade.” Among other measures, this policy added fuel to the crude oil firestorm by making royalties a non-deductible expense for corporate income tax calculations and putting price caps – euphemistically called “made-in-Canada prices” – on oil production for domestic use. Alberta responded with plans to implement a 65% surroyalty on oil. The 1974 Liberal budget made some concessions but retained in principle the right of the federal government to tax provincial royalties.

As Canadians worried about the country “running out of oil,” the producing provinces felt hoodwinked and betrayed. In effect, they argued, the feds were arrogating the fiscal benefits of rising oil prices unto themselves and encroaching on provincial resource ownership. These moves precipitated the bitterest intergovernmental conflicts in Canadian history. The first of two political wars had begun, and battles would rage for a decade.

The political environment was toxic, and it remained so during the Syncrude crisis. According to Hans Maciej, who at the time was the Canadian Petroleum Association’s technical director, “The first energy war did not end until the end of 1975 after the federal government introduced price increases for crude oil and natural gas and, most importantly, recognized the role of royalties paid prior to the price upheaval as a legitimate business expense.”

An Early Thaw
At the beginning of the Syncrude crisis, the consortium created two management teams – one team of executives to plan ways to deep-six the project; another to find ways to keep it alive. In addition to two top executives from each of the three partners, the life-support team included an executive vice president from Cities Services, Calgary-based Bill Mooney. According to Lougheed, “Everybody knew Bill and he just had a way with him of getting people involved and he’s one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met. Mooney played a major behind-the-scenes role in getting people together.”

Though the political environment was toxic, these men had the task of getting government participation in the Syncrude project. Absent other industry partners, public money was the only alternative to a shutdown. The team of seven made a dozen cross-country trips in 17 days. One breakthrough came toward the end of January, when Mooney walked unannounced into Minister of Energy, Mines and Resources Donald Macdonald’s office suite. Hearing that Macdonald was too busy to see him (meetings all day), Mooney decided to wait him out.

When Macdonald returned from Cabinet, Mooney accosted him: “I’ve got to see you.” During a brief meeting the minister outlined the concessions the federal government was willing to make. As Mooney was leaving, Macdonald said “If you tell anyone about this I’ll call you a goddamned liar.”

The Winnipeg Agreement of February 3, 1975 was the outcome of the Syncrude rescue team’s countless phone calls and meetings, and it represented an early thaw in the political climate. The participants in the 12-hour session convened to reach consensus included many of Canada’s key decision-makers. The chairmen of Cities Service, Imperial, Gulf and Shell were there, along with other executives from their companies. Three provincial ministers accompanied premier Lougheed: energy minister Bill Dickie, intergovernmental affairs minister Don Getty and attorney general Merv Leitch. Ontario Premier Bill Davis also brought key ministers to the negotiations. Federal players included Macdonald and Jean Chretien, president of the Treasury Board.

There was give-and-take from everyone except the Shell delegation, which stormed out of the meetings after an hour. They would have considered taking an equity stake in the project, but CEO Bill Daniel first wanted a government-guaranteed base price for production. His team went home empty-handed.

Many people remember the Winnipeg Agreement as a successful effort to replace with government money the 30% equity vacuum created by the departure of Atlantic Richfield: Ottawa took 15%, Alberta 10% and Ontario 5%. The private partners agreed to take a $1.4 billion interest in the project, but Cities Service and Gulf gave Alberta the option to convert a $200 million loan into equity. The province also agreed to construct a pipeline and a power plant, which were risk-free.

Particularly innovative was a royalty structure reflecting technological risks. “When Syncrude came along and we got into the negotiations,” according to Lougheed, “it was clear we could not approach (royalties) from a gross-revenue point of view. It wasn’t really fair because of the risk element involved in such a new process.”

It took eighteen months to prepare legal documentation for the Winnipeg Agreement, and signing took two days. The second day of signing, for dignitaries, was planned for the Saskatchewan Room in Edmonton’s Westin Plaza hotel. For the occasion, Bill Mooney used a pair of table knives to pry off the room’s nameplate. He replaced it with the one that said The Alberta Room.

This article is the first in a series which reflect information from the Petroleum History Society’s current Oil Sands Oral History Project, which is recording the stories of oilsands pioneers in their own words. As with the society’s previous oral history projects, transcripts and recordings will reside in Calgary’s Glenbow Archives. Peter McKenzie-Brown is a member of the team of researchers/writers behind the project.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Dr. Sidney Ells

Consummate oilsands pioneer

This article appears in the 2011 Heavy Oil and Oilsands Guidebook
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
The first person with a technical background to devote his career to investigating the oilsands, Dr. Sydney Ells (1880?-1971) was the consummate oilsands pioneer. Until 1930, Ottawa held jurisdiction and ownership of Alberta’s mineral resources, and the federal Mines Department hired him in 1913 to investigate the resource potential of the oilsands. During more than 30 years with the department, he prepared 26 official oilsands reports and 15 maps of the region.

His 1913 report was the first government paper to stress that the oilsands in their own right had enormous economic potential. Previous investigators had proposed seeking light oil reservoirs near or underneath the sands. Working with the Parks Department, he then had 580 acres of prime oilsands property just outside the village of Fort McMurray designated the Horse River Reserve. It was on these lands that he conducted much of his research.

One notable experiment began in 1915. Ells shipped tons of oilsands by water, sleigh, and rail to Edmonton for a road-paving experiment. The stuff was used, without much need for repair, until the 1950s. Ells spent the last two years of the First World War in the armed forces. When the war was over, he returned to his work with the oilsands, soon becoming the federal government’s go-to guy on the oil sands.

Ells generally wintered in Ottawa, but spent summer months in the field. The trip from Edmonton to Fort McMurray in the early days was tremendously difficult. The first leg (145 km) was by wagon to Athabasca Landing. From there, he and his crew descended the river in a primitive scow. The return journey was worse, since it went against the current. Strong men used ropes to haul the scow to Athabasca Landing.

On one memorable occasion, Ells and his cocker spaniel actually walked the distance from Fort Mac to Athabasca Landing. So difficult were the conditions that he spent two days in hospital when he finally reached Edmonton.

In the 1920s Ells continued the paving material tests, with roads as far afield as Camrose, Jasper and Ottawa getting the oilsands treatment. He also arranged for test drilling – not for production purposes, but strictly to analyse the core. He invested a great deal of time and energy measuring geologic features, mapping terrain and cataloguing oilsands specifications. The oilsands got into Sidney Ells’ blood, and he stayed on top of research long after retirement in 1945.

Development efforts increased during the 1920s and 1930s – especially after the Alberta Research Council’s Dr. Karl Clark developed his game-changing hot-water separation process. After Alberta took ownership of the oilsands in 1930, however, Ells’ influence in the area went into decline.

His knowledge and enthusiasm had encouraged many business people and promoters to take an interest in the deposits, however, and his work helped create the cornerstone of today’s oilsands industry. Notably, in 1929 he went to Denver to meet with oil company executive Max Ball to discuss prospects for developing production from the Athabasca deposit. Having received Ells’ endorsement, Ball soon secured oilsands properties from the Dominion government – the last leases to be issued by the feds.

With encouragement from Ells that eventually overcame the discouraging economic conditions of the Great Depression, Ball began constructing the pioneering Abasand plant in 1936 but mining didn’t finally begin until 1941. In its first four months of operation, the plant processed 18,475 tonnes of oil sand to produce 17,000 barrels of oil then burned to the ground. The company rebuilt the plant and, in 1943, the federal government took it over as part of the war effort and experimented unsuccessfully with a cold-water process. Work at Abasand ended in 1945 when fire again destroyed the operation. That wasn’t the end of the Abasand legacy, though. In 1958 its leases became bedrock properties for Great Canadian Oil Sands (now Suncor).

Ells’ pioneering efforts were not rewarded with a truly commercial project during his working career. More than half a century after he began his pioneering investigations, he was a guest of honour at the official opening of the Great Canadian Oil Sands plant in 1967. After years of struggle, GCOS became the first truly commercial oilsands plant. However, Ells’ former colleague, friend and rival didn’t make the opening. Karl Clark had died nine months earlier of cancer.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Rampant Optimism, Tremendous Drive


With deep roots, the great Bitumount oil sands plant (pictured above in the 1930s) was an industrial pioneer
By Peter McKenzie-Brown
Alberta became active in oil sands research at the beginning of the Roaring Twenties, but could not have anticipated the importance of an incorporation registered in 1925. Robert C. Fitzsimmons’s International Bitumen was a seminal effort for the province, although for the man himself it was ultimately a business tragedy.

The company used a hot water process to produce bitumen, and in 1930 made its first sale of commercially produced bitumen in Edmonton. Because it couldn’t be upgraded at this point, the bitumen was used as fence post dip, for roof tar, and for setting pavement.  

Confidently naming his business the International Bitumen Company in 1927, by 1930 Fitzsimmons had constructed a small oil separation plant at Bitumount (Fitzsimmons gave the place its name) on a federal lease. The long-term significance of his operation and its successors can’t be overstated.

Located 89 kilometres north of Fort McMurray, the plant used a process similar to the hot-water separation process developed by Dr. Karl Clark of the Alberta Research Council, but without the chemical additives and refinements. It was constructed on the cheap, mostly from scavenged parts.  

In essence, Fitzsimmons’ approach was to crush the ore, heat it in hot water, divert it into settling tanks, then skim off the oily gunk that rose to the surface. These efforts were only half as efficient in terms of oil recovery as Clark had achieved with his process. The plant was designed to produce 750 barrels per day, but on a good day produced only 250.  However, in the early years the facility did generate a profit. 

After International Bitumen made its first deliveries, the Edmonton Journal gushed that “those shipments of absolutely pure bitumen are the first and second and only shipments in the history of McMurray tar sands to be made for commercial purposes and it certainly (augurs) well for the future development of the much talked of tar sands of northern Alberta.” 

Fitzsimmons had a passion for the oil sands and he was as stubborn as a mule, but two storms were brewing against him. One was the Great Depression. The other was a flood of light crude oil from Texas and Oklahoma, which was driving down prices. In the Dirty Thirties oil prices were as low as $0.67 per barrel ($9 in inflation-adjusted terms), and markets were lousy. Fitzsimmons’ strategy was to focus on roofing and road surfacing as the most likely markets for his bitumen.

He expanded his facilities, adding a small upgrader (he called it a refinery) in 1937-38. By then he had spent the funds entrusted to International Bitumen’s shareholders. Sales were slow, and cash flow problems began frustrating his dreams. In the vernacular of the period, his company was a day long and a dollar short. By the end of 1938, the company was insolvent. 

Fitzsimmons sought support in capital markets in eastern Canada and Chicago without success. In a final attempt to succeed, he established Tar Sands Products Limited in 1941 to sell International Bitumen Company products. The strategy didn’t help, and he couldn’t secure the $50,000 he needed to keep the plant running, eventually applying to the provincial government for either a straight loan or an advance on bitumen for road paving.

After the province declined to help, in 1943 Fitzsimmons sold the failing enterprise to a hard-nosed financier from Montreal, Lloyd Champion, reserving for himself a job as operations advisor. Frustrated, he left that position in 1944 but was soon called back to get the plant, which had been sitting idle for five years, back in operation. Once he got the plant going again, Champion fired him.

Embittered, Robert Fitzsimmons later wrote a document to tell shareholders “what happened to prevent the company’s success after it had reached the stage of commercial production of oil…and also to inform them how its accomplishments were nullified by obstructive tactics in government quarters.”  The cover page of his pamphlet illustrates the depth of his bitterness. Self-published in 1953, its title proclaims that it is “The truth about Alberta’s tar sands.” The cover then asks, “Why were they kept out of production? What happened to International Bitumen Co. Ltd.? Who solved the problem of separation and pioneered the production of oil from these sands? Who stood to gain by suppressing their development?” 

 He died alone in Edmonton in September, 1971. According to oil sands historian Joseph Ferguson, “It is doing great injustice to Canadian initiative, imagination and determination to allow the courage of men like Robert C. Fitzsimmons to be forgotten.” 

The Champion
Champion had acquired Bitumount through a company named Oil Sands Limited. With Fitzimmons out of the picture, in 1944 he transferred most of the Oil Sands assets to a holding company owned by himself and his wife, Ruby.  He then arranged for the province of Alberta to finance to the tune of $500,000 a new and larger plant (costs eventually rose to $750,000), with construction to be undertaken by Oil Sands Limited. The idea was to investigate Karl Clark’s extraction methods in a large-scale demonstration project. Development dragged on until well after the war. 

“The government is building a $500,000 fireproof pilot plant at Bitumount that should be in operation next July,” wrote William Elmer Adkin, the project’s operating engineer, in 1946. “Unless I miss my bet, we’ll prove to the world that oil can be extracted from the tar sand at less than $1 per barrel, a figure that we believe would warrant a large-scale commercial development.”  Adkin did lose his bet, but his comments reflect the determination and optimism of oil sands pioneers that ultimately led to commercial success.

Although Nathan Tanner was the province’s Minister of Mines and Lands, Premier Ernest Manning was the project’s champion. In a speech to the Legislature in 1944, he said “It has been established beyond question that a successful and efficient simple process exists for the separation of oil from the sands and for its refinement into commercial products. Members of the Government have inspected the plant while in actual operation and producing a sufficient volume of clear sand free of oil to prove the practicability of the process.”

Manning supported the funding for the project and had the entire legislature visit the plant in 1949, its second year of operation. Despite his efforts, the plant soon closed. The plant went on production in 1948. However, operations ended after new wells, including the spectacular blow-out at Atlantic Leduc #3, confirmed that the 1947 Leduc light-oil discovery was not a fluke.

The flurry of effort to develop commercial activity in the oil sands, which had climaxed during and just after World War Two, was over. The reason was Alberta’s Leduc oil strike and the other petroleum finds that quickly followed. Bitumen couldn’t compete with inexpensively produced conventional light oil. 

Though interest waned in those years, it did not die.

Manning commissioned an independent evaluation by Sidney Blair. The oil sands expert, who began his career as Karl Clark’s research assistant, based his report on the Bitumount project. Published in 1950, Blair’s study concluded that oil sands development could be economic for projects producing 20,000 barrels or more of oil per day. He envisioned such a plant costing $43 million and generating a 5 to 6 percent annual return on investment. He believed that such an operation could profit in a market where conventional oil was fetching only $2.70 per barrel, because synthetic oil is an attractive feedstock that can yield more valuable refined products than a barrel of conventional oil. Blair concluded that the oil sands were “a commercially viable source of crude oil that could compete on the world market.”

The plant was down, but Lloyd Champion was not out. In 1953 he began forming the Great Canadian Oil Sands consortium, based on his oil sands assets and his business acumen and drive. The Great Canadian Oil Sands consortium, which would later become the Suncor oil sands plant, included Abasand Oils, Canadian Oils Ltd. and Oil Sands Ltd. That effort lurched from crisis to crisis until J. Howard Pew got into the conversation. The chairman of Philadelphia-based Sun Oil Company, Pew soon became the primary financial backer of the project. The Great Canadian Oil Sands plant went into operation in 1967.

Champion sold his interest in the plant around the time it was being commissioned and, like Sidney Ells and Robert Fitzsimmons, died in 1971. As for the Bitumount site, it remained a place for oil sands experimentation and testing until abandoned at the end of the 1950s.

However, on December 4th, 1974 the province declared it a provincial historic site, and today it serves as an important interpretive centre and testament to Alberta’s oil sands pioneers. Its skeletal remains can be found in eight clusters. These range in interest from Fitzsimmons’ small cabin to primitive industrial equipment to garbage dumps and latrines. Bitumount may not look like much, but this is where the modern oil sands industry began. 

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Vocal Records

Photo of the Bitumount oilsands plant, 1936. Bitumount was one of the first commercial oilsands plants.
Oilsands oral history project gets underway with the support of five key players. This article appears in the February issue of Oilsands Review 

By Peter McKenzie-Brown

Four oilsands companies – Syncrude Canada, Imperial Oil, Athabasca Oil Sands and MEG Energy – have become founding sponsors of an oral history project conducted by the Petroleum History Society (PHS). Why?

To appreciate the significance of this development, consider the story of Karl Clark. By far the most influential oilsands researcher, Clark did his important work before anyone now working in the business was born. Yet historians have easy access to useful information about him. That’s mostly because Clark lived during an era of low technology. He wrote letters and diaries and prepared scrapbooks and, with the methodical skills that made him a first-rate scientist, filed them carefully away. Since most of his work was done at the University of Alberta and the provincial government’s Alberta Research Council, his studies became public documents, now accessible through the university’s archives.

The accessibility of this work enabled Clark’s daughter to compile an authoritative and insightful book – Oil Sands Scientist: The Letters of Karl A. Clark, 1920-1949 – with relative ease. Direct, clear and intelligent, his letters contain important technical and chronological information about Clark's work. They also reveal much about his personality and character.

How many letters have you written recently? Probably very few. Because it’s faster and more secure we’re far more likely to send e-mail or use the phone than write memos and letters. In some ways technological advances are making it harder – not easier – to follow the impact of influential people. The profusion of information about us obscures areas of our intellectual and personal footprints. For those of us who believe an understanding of industrial development is possible, and necessary, this is a big loss. What's the best way to proceed?

The answer is oral history. To create balanced pictures of the growth of big industrial sectors, historians need personal recollections. The memories of those involved breathe life into the dry corporate and government documents that provide so much of the raw material of history. In this case, those being interviewed were mostly engaged with the oilsands for long periods. Their understanding of the sector has more depth than versions provided in the popular press.

The Horse’s Mouth
Oral history is a discipline that has developed over the last 60 years in lock-step with the spread of technology. As the personal and business letters that once formed core material for historians disappeared, technologies like cassette decks and video recorders proliferated and plummeted in price. This has enabled many historians to move beyond documentary research – instead, preparing contemporary history by simply asking people to tell their stories.

According to the Glenbow’s library and archives director Doug Cass, “to anyone researching and writing about history in the 20th and 21st centuries, any oral history that can be found is very important to our understanding of the past. Memory is, of course, very complex and fallible, but it just seems so obvious to use someone who was involved in an event to provide first-hand knowledge.

“Oral history is a source like any other, and the information provided needs to be cross-referenced with other materials,” he says. However, “the rich data about feelings and relationships is compelling and valuable.”

Clint Tippett – president of the Calgary-based Petroleum History Society – concurs. “If we want to understand history, there’s no better way than from the horse’s mouth. Every aspect of history is complicated – causes, effects, decision-making and repercussions. So there is no replacement for getting the true goods from a person who was actually involved.”

Mixed metaphors notwithstanding, Tippett’s comments celebrate initial funding for an ambitious oilsands history project. When Syncrude, Esso, Athabasca Oil Sands and MEG Energy agreed to fund the first phase of this oilsands oral history, they were continuing an industry tradition that began 35 years ago. PHS intends to conduct and record extensive interviews with 100 of the sector’s pioneers, then transcribe that material. The organization will donate this valuable source material to the petroleum collections of Calgary’s Glenbow Archive (part of the Glenbow Museum), which will make them accessible to media, the public and historians.

Two key supporters of this project, Eric Newell (formerly chair of Syncrude) and Bob Taylor (formerly Alberta’s assistant deputy minister for oil) described the project as providing “historians, researchers and educators with a repository of primary information from knowledgeable sources…(it) is part of a 30-year oral history effort by the Petroleum History Society (which has) already collected and archived more than 300 interviews with key figures in the evolution of the Canadian oil and gas industry” – pioneers like Jack Gallagher and Carl Nickle. Taylor said in an interview that “this effort will create a wealth of material that should be part of the industry’s educational efforts.”

According to the Glenbow’s Doug Cass, “the oral history recordings produced by the society’s previous petroleum industry oral history efforts are among the most used collections in our archives.” Especially since so many of these interviewees have passed away, these files are an irreplaceable part of the Glenbow’s extensive petroleum industry collection. “With the loss of these individuals, we lose important voices that can help historians recount the story of how this industry was created.”

A Textbook on Steam Technology

The history society’s Tippett is a strong believer in the efficacy of these personal statements. “We may think that we understand what happened in the past and why,” he says, “but we work with incomplete information and through the filters of our own experience. We may not see the bigger picture or context within which events unfolded. Records are commonly incomplete and small but critical aspects, in particular with regards to people, often fall between the cracks” when a historian is trying to re-create a piece of the past.

“Indeed,” says Tippett “seeing the powerful role that people play and the degree to which they are driven by their personalities, values and aspirations” makes those personal perspectives a critical part of understanding how events occurred. “The way people interacted with the technology of the day and how they innovated also becomes more tangible when it is heard from an actual participant. I’d much rather listen to a train engineer describe how he handled a steam engine than read a textbook on steam technology.”

The formal PHS proposal describes the project as “a core educational project for the oilsands industry. It will honour those who helped create and shape the industry. By uncovering stories of challenge and innovation, it will contribute to a deeper understanding of how the industry developed and how it functions. It will serve as an important resource for historians, researchers and educators.”

Tippett adds that “the opportunity to contribute to oral history can often be seen as recognition of an individual’s accomplishments. Unfortunately,” he says, “the other major place where a person’s life is spelt out is in an obituary – and by then one isn’t in a position to either appreciate or correct it!”

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Parallel Lives of Verdi and Wagner


Wagner (left) and Verdi: The lives of two great and greatly different geniuses; graphic from here 

By Peter McKenzie-Brown
Born a few months apart in 1813, German composer Richard Wagner (May 22) and Italian composer Giuseppe Verdi (October 9) were the greatest operatic composers of all time. They tower above all others except Mozart, whose output of great operas was unfortunately small.

Musically the two men were leagues apart, yet their lives and times were strangely parallel. They represented two powerful cultures. Italian culture had roots that drew from the traditions of Rome, the Catholic Church and the Renaissance; its cultural identity was well established. In the area of opera – its most popular musical entertainment – the emerging state sought perfection. In time, Verdi provided it.

By contrast, the high culture of the German-speaking countries had mostly developed during the 18th century – first with the Baroque genius of Bach and Handel; later through the classicism of Gluck, Hayden and Mozart. With growing intellectual, diplomatic and economic influence, in the 19th century the Germanic states sought a unique identity and unwittingly became centres of cultural revolution. Richard Wagner epitomized those developments.
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In many ways Italy and Germany had parallel national experiences during the 19th century, and each composer was closely associated with the political and cultural life of his country. Italy and Germany each achieved national unification only one year apart.

The Story
From birth, the two men were different in almost every way. For example, Verdi began to show his musical genius as a boy, and received a solid musical education. By contrast, Wagner showed little interest in music until late in adolescence. However, he then advanced at breakneck speed – to a large extent self–taught.

Consider even the geopolitical perspective. For much of Europe, the Napoleonic period marked the beginning of the end of aristocratic rule.

Verdi was born in the Duchy of Parma – now an Italian province, but at the time annexed to France as part of Napoleon’s empire. The diminutive emperor came from nearby Corsica and many (perhaps most) Italians were French partisans. Verdi’s family certainly fit this mold.
 
Germans were more likely to hate the incursions of Imperial France. Wagner was an infant in Leipzig when Napoleon was handed a decisive defeat outside that city. Fought within miles of Wagner’s birthplace when the future composer was just a few months old, the “Battle of Nations” led to the emperor’s banishment to the small Tuscan island of Elba.

The two men also experienced different fates in response to the trans–European revolutions and rebellions of 1848–9. After those tectonic events, Verdi returned from Paris to Milan a hero, because not-so-subtle messages about national unification were apparent in his early operas. Wagner was not so lucky. Because of his radical pamphleteering, he had to flee Saxony to Switzerland for 16 years as an outcast.

Although the two composers never met, there was rivalry between them. Wagner despised contemporary opera that diverged from his own ideas – especially if it were commercially successful, as Verdi’s operas were. Later in life, he dismissed all Italian opera as “Donizetti and Company.” There are no references to Verdi in Wagner’s extensive writings or letters. There are two, however, in Cosima’s detailed diaries. “In the evening Verdi’s Requiem” she wrote, “about which it would certainly be best not to say anything.” On the other occasion she recorded an incident in which Wagner mocked a Verdi theme he heard being sung on a canal in Venice.

Even though Verdi’s Aida had been musically influenced by Wagner, the composer went apoplectic when critics commented on his rival’s influence. Moreover, in Verdi’s later years an avant–garde group of Italian composers influenced by Wagner dismissed his work. Those many insults notwithstanding, Verdi called Tristan und Isolde “one of the greatest creations of the human spirit”. Of his rival’s life, however, he said “The great Wagner left much evil in his wake”.

The Matter of Character

Verdi was an astute businessman: tenacious in dealings with his publishers, cautious in his spending habits yet generous to a fault when his friends were in need. Most of his friendships were long–lasting, and he was devoted to his two wives. His first wife, Margherita, died as he was composing a comic opera, Un Giorno di Regno. Both of his young children also died around this time. As he wrote later on, “My family was destroyed! And in the midst of this terrible anguish, to honour the commitment I had undertaken, I had to write an entire comic opera!” He did not write another comedy until the end of his very long life.

His second wife, Giuseppena, was the greatest soprano of her time, and a source of inspiration to him for many years. There is much argument among historians about whether he took on a younger mistress later in life – Teresa Stolz, another great soprano. Whether he did or didn't, the two women eventually became best friends, and Verdi always treated his wife with respect and dignity. In her extensive diaries, the extraordinary Giuseppena never speaks ill of her rival, although there is some evidence of jealousy.

Verdi wrote triumphant operas well into old age. He understood what his audience wanted, whether they were Italian or French. His productions in Paris – the centre of European culture – were successful when produced there in either language. He composed three operas for French libretti, each of which met the peculiar needs of Parisian grand opera. Each was better than the one before. His work continually improved, as did Wagner’s.

One of the hallmarks of Verdi’s character was his tolerance. By contrast, Wagner’s intolerance was legendary. The Paris production of his great opera Tannhäuser was a debacle. He had spent more than a decade trying to stage this opera in Europe’s cultural Mecca, but on opening night a claque booed the opera from its opening notes. He spent much of his later life promoting antagonism to French culture, as he boasted about the superior culture of Germany.

Yet his intellectual capacity was enormous. Wagner's intellectual strength was probably unequalled among composers. He was powerfully influenced by the German philosophy of his day - especially that of Arthur Schopenhauer - and he was an enormous influence on the work of Friedrich Nietzsche. The two men had an extremely close friendship for many years, but Nietzsche then turned - and turned rather savagely - on his former mentor. British scholar Bryan Magee offers a fascinating account of this aspect of Wagner in his book  The Tristan Chord.

Wagner was profligate and somewhat unscrupulous. He borrowed money from friends with pledges to repay, but frequently not honouring those promises. It was almost as if, shortly after fleeing Saxony, Wagner became convinced that his genius should be supported by others rather than by his own toil in the grubby world of theatre. He never lost that conviction.

He was near ruin (again) and in hiding from debtors when 18–year–old King Ludwig II of Bavaria ascended the throne. An admirer of Wagner and his work, the gay king provided the composer with a generous state annuity for the rest of his life. This was not enough, and Wagner shamelessly took advantage of the weak royal to secure astonishing amounts of money from him. A few years after Wagner’s death, Ludwig was declared insane, dethroned and likely murdered.

Wagner would periodically undertake character assassination of former friends – for example, of the great opera composer Giacomo Meyerbeer, from whom he borrowed both musical ideas and money. One essay – originally published under an alias – attacked both Felix Mendelssohn and Meyerbeer for their “Jewishness,” and made the general claim that Jews are a harmful and alien element in German culture. Many historians believe his thought and writings contributed to the horrors of the Holocaust. To this day, public performances of Wagner’s music are unofficially taboo in Israel.

Neither did Wagner have scruples in respect to women. His relationship with his first wife – actress Wilhelmine “Minna” Planer – could best be called abusive, and he frequently seduced the wives of friends to whom he was pleading for money. Even so, his second wife Cosima – much younger, and the daughter by a married French countess of piano virtuoso and composer Franz Liszt – was devoted to him throughout her long adult life. Cosima’s talents, iron will and emotional and intellectual support made possible many of Wagner’s great accomplishments. Both understood that he had an astonishing genius, and went to great lengths to soften the memory of his many personal flaws. They wanted history to remember him for more than his musical creations.

The Musical Legacies
Just as their lives and personalities were strangely parallel but wildly different, so are their musical legacies. The two men went through three periods of composition which were roughly parallel in time. Each got better with age and experience. Each was a product of the prevailing Romanticism of the age. There the similarities end.

Verdi’s genius reflected cultural roots that went back to the Roman Empire and a sense of Catholicism as the true church. Wagner’s genius seemed laden with the mythology of the peoples that brought down Rome, the Holy Roman Empire that succeeded them and the Reformation. Wagner was obsessed with the otherworldly. Verdi had a great deal of compassion for the people in his operas.

Verdi refined and virtually perfected the operatic tradition that had developed in Italy and France. He relied heavily on his gift for creating melody as the basis of opera but also took full advantage of the expressive power of the orchestra. Some of his many orchestral innovations are so closely identified with the composer that to this day other composers will not use them.

Verdi was one of the first composers to insist on patiently seeking out plots to suit his particular talents. Aware that dramatic expression was his strength, he worked closely with his librettists – primarily Francesco Maria Piave, but later in life Arrigo Boito, who was a fine composer as well as a librettist. His aim was to make certain that the libretto had no unnecessary detail or superfluous participants. In his best operas, only characters brimming with passion and scenes rich in drama remained.

Above all, Verdi was a dramatist of human passions. His music was so fittingly made for this purpose that even absurd plots made sense once he had developed their scores – Il Trovatore, for example. He was concerned with the human condition and the experiences of human life. His characters were vehicles for humanity – not for idealism or the expression of religious truths. His characterizations were superb, and every drama – melodrama, some critics would complain – was superbly crafted.

Set in historical periods, Verdi’s stories were often based on historical events. He frequently adapted stage plays, achieving notable successes with the work of William Shakespeare – Macbeth, Otello, and Falstaff. His dramatizations of dynamic relationships (often love triangles) are brilliant, although they sometimes lead to the suggestion that he was all about melodrama. This is not true. His operas have great depth.

Aware that he was a musical descendant of the Renaissance composer Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrine, Verdi famously proposed that turning to the past is a way to progress. His respect for the past notwithstanding, Verdi pushed the limits of compositional colour in ways that are technically appreciated by specialists, but which audiences instinctively love. Four of his operas – La Traviata, Rigoletto, Aida and Il Trovatore – are among the 20 most popular in North America.

None of Wagner’s operas are on the most-popular list, yet his innovations fundamentally changed the art form. His greatest work drew from North European mythology and German philosophy rather than from history and real events. His extraordinary four–part, 17–hour Der Ring des Nibelung reflects a vision of the creation and development of the world itself. It virtually takes place outside of time. Part of the intent of this work was to create a foundation of myths for the gathering German culture and nation. His characterizations were idealizations rather than real people.

Wagner turned his back on German musical tradition. A talented poet, dramatist and theorist as well as a musical genius, he developed a concept he called “the art–work of the future.” In a series of essays published in 1849, he proposed that opera should become a total artwork – a unity of music, song, dance, poetry, visual arts, and stagecraft. He called this “music drama,” and wrote his own libretti – “poems,” he called them. He created deeply philosophical tales with meaning that went beyond human passion, but after discovering the work of the still obscure philosopher Schopenhauer rejected his earlier ideas. Instead, he came to believe that pure music is an essential expression of a metaphysical will.
 
Wagner developed a compositional style in which the orchestra’s role is equal to that of the singers. The orchestra’s dramatic role includes its performance of leitmotifs – musical themes that announce specific characters, locales, and elements of the plot. Their complex musical development illuminates the progress of the drama.

In keeping with his inflated sense of himself, perhaps, virtually all of Wagner's opera plots have three characteristics. They are based on mythology. There is at least one character who is somehow otherworldly  (the Dutchman in the Flying Dutchman; the gods in the Ring Cycle). And the hero is redeemed  through the death of a loving, beautiful and virtuous woman.

As an individual, Wagner was as complex as anyone who ever lived. For all his faults, he had stupendous power and inexhaustible vitality. Through his operas, theoretical essays and self–promotion, Wagner exerted a vast influence on the art of the 19th century. Because of its unprecedented exploration of emotional expression, his musical style is often considered the epitome of Romantic music. He introduced new ideas in harmony and musical form, including extreme chromaticism – the use of tonal discord to convey musical ideas. In Tristan und Isolde, he explored the limits of the traditional tonal system that gave keys and chords their identity.

According to Wagner scholar John Deathridge, “…the expansion of harmonic possibilities in the very first chord of the Prelude to Tristan (the so-called Tristan chord is by far the most widely analyzed collection of four notes in Western music) and the sheer freedom and invention in the handling of individual chromatic lines mean that it is quite justifiable to speak of the music of the opera as a harbinger of the new music of the twentieth century.” Deathridge hastens to add that Tristan itself is never actually atonal.

Bricks and Mortar

Toward the end of their lives, each man left a bricks-and-mortar testament. In Wagner’s case, it was the Bayreuther Festspielhaus. An opera house north of Bayreuth, Germany, this building is dedicated to the performance of Wagner’s operas. It is the exclusive venue for the annual Bayreuth Festival, for which it was specifically conceived and built. Despite a prior falling out with Ludwig II of Bavaria, the king again came to Wagner’s rescue and provided much of the funding for the project.

The building was first opened for the premiere of Der Ring des Nibelung from August 13, 1876 to August 17, 1876. The opera house was innovative, its most famous feature being an unusual orchestra pit. It is recessed under the stage and covered by a hood, making the orchestra invisible to the audience. This feature was a central preoccupation for Wagner, since it made the audience concentrate on the drama onstage, rather than the distracting motion of the conductor and musicians.

Since its opening in 1876, the Bayreuth Festival has become a socio-cultural phenomenon. A monument to his extraordinary vanity and conceit, only Wagner’s operas may be performed at the Festspielhaus. Each year the festival is a great success.

Indebted as always, Wagner died of heart disease on February 13, 1883, in Venice. He was buried at his home near Bayreuth, as was Cosima 47 years later. His biographer and a great admirer of his achievements was Ernest Newman. “He ended his stormy course with hardly a single friend,” said he. “Followers he had in the last days, parasites he had in plenty, but no friends whose names rang through Europe as the old names had done. One by one he had used them all for his own purposes; one by one he had lost them by his unreasonableness and his egoism.”

In that year Verdi was a wealthy man, and some of his greatest work was yet to come: Otello (1887) and Falstaff (1893). The former was perhaps his greatest tragedy. The latter was a comic masterpiece – only the second comic opera he composed, the first being the disastrous Un Giorno di Regno, which he was writing as his first wife died.

In his later years, Verdi was a philanthropist of note. His bricks-and-mortar contribution to music was the Casa di Reposo per Musicisti – the Rest Home for Musicians – in Milan. He devoted his last years to this charitable project. According to Verdi biographer Charles Osborne, “as he told more than one friend (the Casa) was his favourite of all his works, musical or otherwise.” Known locally as the Casa Verdi, the home still serves retired musicians. “Some very distinguished opera singers have been content, indeed proud, to end their days at this home provided for them by their beloved Verdi,” wrote Osborne.

On hearing of his death, all of Italy mourned. Although he had a large home and estate near the town of Bussetto, where he was born, Verdi and Giuseppina were re-interred on the grounds of the Casa when the home was completed, a month after his death. The occasion of their re-interment was a state ceremony. According to Osborne, “Two hundred thousand people lined the black-draped streets of Milan to say farewell to the greatest and most popular Italian of the nineteenth century.”