O’Neill Oil Company, Williamsburg, Iowa
It wasn’t an oil company in the ways we have come to know them.
It was a gas station in all the ways you and I have recently discussed; a service station, a filling station, a place to have your oil checked, and it was a fuel resource for area farms near the small, midwestern town of Williamsburg, Iowa.
The O’Neill Oil Company was operated by the four surviving sons of Tom and Kate O’Neill. Earl, known by everyone as Irish, was the oldest, followed by Chuck, Jim, and Joe. Joe was Tom’s father.
Tom was the only son born to the O’Neill boys. Irish, Jim, and Chuck all remained in Williamsburg, working at the station, raising families in the small town. Joe moved away as a young man and eventually settled in Midlothian, Illinois with his wife, Carolyn, daughter, Maura, and Tom. Tom’s family would often travel to Iowa for holidays and visits. For Tom, the summers he spent in that little burg are fondly recalled. There, everyone knew him as Joe’s boy as he rode a bike from the gas station around the town, stopped at the soda fountain, and played with his cousins. They evoke a simpler era of being a young boy in summer.
The uncles all favored Tom, but, it was Irish who held a special bond with his only nephew. Irish married later in life and had no children of his own. When Tom was a youngster, before Irish married, he would stay with Irish and Grandma O’Neill; Kate. The Kate our own Katy is named after. I can’t imagine a more idyllic summer vacation for a young boy from the outskirts of Chicago.
When Tom grew old enough, he would help at the O’Neill Oil Station on his summer visita. More than a gas station, yet not a big oil company. Stations such as the O’Neill’s pumped gas, fixed tires, and wiped windshields like other stations of the 50’s and 60’s. They also provided heating fuel and gasoline for running farm equipment.
As a “working” lad of 10 or so years of age, Tommy, as he was called by his uncles, aunts and cousins, would get up early and head to the station with his Uncle Chuck. They would open up. Tom would pump gas, clean windshields, and patch tires. He would also ride along on deliveries to the surrounding farms with tanks of fuel and gasoline; a heady adventure for a young city boy and times he remembers with great fondness.
Tom would stay at the station with Irish to close up at day’s end, after having supper at Grandma’s or at Chuck and Betty’s house. After closing, Irish and Tommy would walk the short distance to the diner on the Square and have ice cream or milk shakes.
Irish would tell the waitress when he ordered a milkshake “and make it the drinkin’ kind!” .
Tom and I were sitting and chatting about his summers in Williamsburg as I was composing posts about Route 66 and filling stations; an easy conversation to slide into at any time, but, especially when talking about the ’50s and ’60s and the adventure one could still have on the road. One as likely to transition from patching tires and riding out to the farms to deliver fuel to summery Saturday nights on the Square, to one particular Saturday night in July when all the stores stayed open late and everyone came into town for a concert in the bandstand in the town square – but, first they stopped to “filler ‘er up” at the O’Neill Oil Company.
This photo sits in two places in our house; the library/den when I usually works and the office in the barn where Tom conducts business.
Do you have a memory of summer and music on the town square or park?
I wrote about Irish O’Neill and the time the Williamsburg home team played against the Harlem Globetrotters here.
Lovely memories, and a fabulously evocative photo. This is history isn’t it ? So scary that our lives are history ! What memories. Jx
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It is, indeed, history Janice. The building is still there (or at least was two years ago) but, the station no longer operating and, sadly, no family members left in Williamsburg -but, the square is still there with businesses around it. Thanks, Janice.
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What a wonderful post, headed by a marvellously evocative photo of the O’Neill boys in their work-clothes. I did enjoy this and the earlier post you linked to. you know how much I revel in family history and childhood memories, so reading this post was a joy. Lucky Tom to have such happy memories.
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Tom is fortunate, indeed, to have such memories, Perpetua – and lucky we all are to have this modern medium to record our family’s lives. I so enjoy your family history and reading about your childhood; such different lives, but, really pretty much the same in some pivotal ways. 🙂
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I meant to say how glad I am that you saw the earlier post, Perpetua. It gives more depth to the uncles, especially Irish, and the times they lived in. Thank you.
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How delightful to read about a genuine family business, and Tom’s childhood memories. You evoke a whole era in this post. Beautiful, Penny.
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Thank you, Juliet. They worked very hard at keeping the station, especially after there father died during the Great Depression. Tom’s memories are quite warm and vivid of the time.
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I LOVE the photo and the writing.
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Thank you so much for saying so, Adrienne. 🙂
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MTM and Tom have this in common. MTM’s grandfather owned a filling station in West Allis, WI, and MTM worked there in his teens. A full blown mechanic, he was, by the time he graduated from high school.
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That’s interesting to know, Andra. I suspect they have a few other things in common as well (besides cars 🙂 It’s so unfortunate that young boys, and girls, for that matter, no longer can find these kinds of jobs. Hope MTM’s shoulder is mending.
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What a wonderful story of Tom’s childhood and family ties, Penny. Neither Jay nor I have every lived in a small town, but we both have memories of much simpler times that came from growing up in the 50s and 60s, that’s certain. By comparison to the complex urban living of today, those memories feel like we were in a small town–if we could turn back the clock! I love the family stories, Penny. Jay’s dad passed away when he was just 10, and to make ends meet he worked for a Los Angeles Times dealer and a whole “crew” of employees became a family to him. He has stories that remind me a lot of what Tom experienced in the service station with his family. I think there is something very special about working at a young age with adults who care and nurture you along. There are so few opportunities for young people to experience that today.
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I think those years, naive as they were, had a small town flavor, even if in a bigger city. We knew our neighbors and we had tons of kids to play with, outside. Sounds like that was such a good spot for Jay to land when his father passed on, giving him a way to help the family, and having a surrogate family as part of the process. It is a shame that there are so few opportunities for young folks today; from paper routes to gas stations, even babysitting (I earned a lot, back-in-the-day, baby-sitting). Ah well . . . we are lucky to have our memories.
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I’m in Germany taking care of my mom and I rember our village square and the town square 6 miles away. Germany has an apprentice program, where young people learn a trade and go to school part time . It reminds me of Tom’s experience.
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I am so sorry about your mom, Gerlinde. I send good thoughts your way.
That apprentice program sounds so good for young people. We used to be better at that here in the Sates. I think that village squares provide such an anchor for towns and villages. Such a simple gathering place, which extends nations and cultures.
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Just finished going back over the older posts and learning more about Tom’s family and adventures as a young man. It was a most enjoyable way to spend some time this afternoon. My dad grew up at the Chevrolet dealership where he was at first just the boy who swept the floor. When pin stripes became popular he painted them on the sides of the new cars as he had a steady hand. Something about garages served as a good place to grow up and learn values as well as all things about cars.
You know I was born in Davenport so I tried to find Williamsburg on my map and failed. Was it close? My parents worked in Rock Island during WW2. I know nothing of it though as we left when I was a baby to return to Tennessee to that same Chevy dealership and a job.
I never was lucky enough to experience those band concerts on the town square. That is why I appreciate hearing of that special time.
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That is so nice to hear, Marilyn. Thank you.
Oh, gosh. I remember pin stripes on cars (and we had two Chevy’s growing up). I think you are right. Garages were good places to grow up and to have male role models for boys. Their service extended far beyond the windshields, didn’t they.
Williamsburg is in the eastern part of Iowa, very close to the Amana Colonies. I’ll be writing another post, incorporating the restaurants and areas, and see what I can find. I think it was Zuber’s that was close to Williamsburg. (May have that spelling wrong).
I never experienced town squares, either, Marilyn, though there was a circle for a few years of my late teens/early twenties. Of course, Penny would have a circle instead of a square. Ha!
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What fun to see such a nice photo of the family business and to know how young Tommy grew up to be such a car guy. It is an adventure to grow up in the family business and get to be a part of it at such a young age. Going to those concerts must also have sparked his interest in music which later developed into such a talent to share. How interesting that young Tommy ended up so close to the start of the Mother Road which sent you both to ISU where you met and became the Grandpa and Yia Yia in the big city. Circles of life…….interesting.
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It was a great experience for him, Janet – and saved us lots of money over the years as he worked on our own cars. Tom has such fond, fond memories of his times in Iowa.
Ah, yes, those circles of life. I hadn’t thought of it in this way, my dear friend, but, of course, it is. Thank you for that. 🙂
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Family history is always fascinating. To see a whole tribe of them as here and to follow their lives back to the beginning gives the observer a feeling of being rooted in a reality of belonging.
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I think so, too, Friko. “rooted in a reality of belonging” – ah, how I wish I coined that phrase. Thank you for it.
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Great to have such wonderful family memories! Tom was lucky to have such wonderful uncles … a boy can’t have too many role models in this life.
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It truly is, Sallie and Tom knows how fortunate he was to have these uncles in his life. You are so right – especially boys need role models, and these men were good ones. Thanks.
By-the-way, I have a repost on Brittle you might want to see. It is Debra’s (Breathlighter) recent post, which is inspiring to read in itself, with a wonderful link at the very end about living with Type I Diabetes. I encourage you to have a read, Sallie, as I think it might be beneficial for your great–grandson.
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Tom’s summers sound like something made for a Norman Rockwell illustration! The two of you had childhoods that sound so pleasant!
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Those he spent in Iowa certainly were idyllic, Janet. I think that the times were much simpler, with more friends (or cousins) to play with. He loved going out to Iowa.
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I keep thinking that someone should begin opening them again. I cannot (I hope) be the only woman who has never, and will never, pump my own gas. I miss the window washing, the oil checking, and the conversation with the guy pumping the gas. Something real has been lost. My dad, by the way, owned a Pontiac dealership and did indeed pump gas with all the extras.
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I agree, Nan. Besides all the services that were performed, like the window washing, it was a time for friendly conversation, especially at local stations, and an opportunity for jobs, especially for young folks. We had one station in town that helped fund college educations for several youngsters in one family and I would stop there purposefully to see how they were all doing.
I doubt that you are the only one. 🙂
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I grew up in Williamsburg and remember the Skelly station (better known as “Irish’s”). Bill Shanahan worked for Irish for years, along with Jimmy Driscoll, Babe Mumm, Ray Murphy and Kathryn Houseman kept the books. The back room of the station was the afternoon gathering place for some of Irish’s buddies. It had a pigeon hole rack on the wall that held the jugs of the boy’s favorite refreshment. Most of it was cheap whiskey except the slot belonging to O.E. (Oz) Jones, the President of the Farmers Bank. Oz’s slot contained top shelf Scotch! Bill Shanahan told me that before Interstate 80 came through the best way from Des Moines to Iowa City was the IWV road (Iowa City, Williamsburg, Victor). He remembers a radio announcer from WHO in Des Moines stopping at Irish’s for gas after Iowa football games. You guessed it, it was Ronald “Dutch” Reagan!
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I cannot thank you enough for commenting here.
The names you mention were all names that both my husband, Tom, and my father-in-law, Joe, often recalled in conversations; Tom, in fact, still does. What a remembrance of Irish and his buddies – and their jugs of liquid refreshment – and an historical tidbit of Ronald Reagan. When Tom reads this, he may want to also respond, or get in touch with you via your email address. I hope that will be okay.
I really appreciated this. Penny
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