The origin of the life of your humble writer: Part XLII

By: Preston Aucoin

As the semester began, I had to reacquaint myself with the campus because new buildings had gone up to accommodate the multitude of new students. The student population had more than doubled, jumping from about 3,000 when I left to over 8,000 when I returned. That did not prove too difficult but, occasionally, I found myself asking one of the younger students where a certain building was. We veterans were, on average, about four years older than those who had come to college directly from high school.

Additionally, the city had changed considerably. The Oil Center had been added and this changed the face of Lafayette. It is an interesting story why the big oil companies chose Lafayette. In the early 50’s, when those companies in Houston decided to establish an Oil Center in Louisiana, the logical place would have been Lake Charles. It was close to Houston, had access to the Gulf and had some dealings with the oil industry.

But Lake Charles had one major problem; the labor unions. It was dominated by them, commercially, industrially, socially and politically. Oil companies hate labor unions and will not tolerate them. Lafayette had none to speak of. Consequently, Lafayette got the nod and these oil companies drove right through Lake Charles, headed eastward, and settled in Lafayette. Their presence was definitely felt in Lafayette.

Now, subdivisions were being opened and new, expensive houses were being built thereon. New stores and malls were being opened to accommodate these free-spending oil families from Texas and Oklahoma. Many new watering holes and restaurants had been built. One day, at about 11 a.m., I chanced into one of these known as Chez Pasteur’s on Pinhook (this place has changed names several times since). The parking area was covered with brand new Cadillacs, Lincolns and other fancy late-style vehicles (Japanese cars were not vogue yet). When I walked into the bar, it was packed with thirsty patrons having their before-lunch cocktails in the elegant and expensive French restaurant adjoining the bar.

They waved their credit cards in the air and the price of drinks and food were of no consequence. They were surrounded by pretty girls and everybody was having a party; at 11 a.m. The money was flowing and the town was growing! These credit cards they gaily brandished were not their personal ones, they were part of their expense accounts, another perk picked up by the big oil companies. Everyone was happy and it was only safe to assume this “morning happy hour” was occurring in many other watering holes in the city.

I reasonably conjectured this group of gleeful oil men drinking, eating and flirting (and that’s putting it lightly) with the pretty women at the expense of the big oil companies included some geologists and bolstered my desire to pursue my studies in geology (i.e., until that balloon of craving burst as will be discussed hereafter).

Similar activities went on in the commercial areas of town; the men’s clothing and shoe stores were flooded with customers, the sporting stores, the barber shops and the women’s shops likewise. The beauty shops were full of women. I think the Lafayette women had the most beautiful coiffures in the whole state, if not the nation.

Let us not forget the car dealers. It was said that on a per capita basis, Lafayette had more Cadillacs than any other city. Of course, that was before the advent of the Japanese, and to some lesser extent, German, Swedish, English and other foreign cars. At that time, you would meet a Cadillac at nearly every street intersection in the city, about half of the time driven by a dressed up lady sporting a lovely hairdo. Surely, Lafayette was the Houston of Acadiana; a paradise on Earth created by that fluid black gold lurking in the Gulf floor.

I learned more and more about this enchanted city as time went on, but it was now time to concentrate on academics. Some of the subjects I had scheduled were easy, others were hard. That’s about par for the course. But difficult or not, it was still good to be back in college. College life is hard to beat. It didn’t take long to make the adjustment to this kind of life.

I began to notice many students wearing beards and a rock on a chain around their necks walking around the campus. These guys were all geology students at least in their sophomore year. After your second year as a student majoring in geology, you became a member of this geologic fraternity and identified yourself as such by sporting the beard and the rock around your neck. They were called rockhounds. That was a great idea except there were too many of them for my taste.

I began to inquire about this situation and much to my dismay and chagrin, found out the oil boom in the Gulf of Mexico (i.e., offshore drilling) had prompted a multitude of young men to enroll in the School of Geology, not only at SLI (ULL), but at LSU and the other colleges in Louisiana that offered this course of study and that the field, which had been fertile at first, was now hopelessly overcrowded and many of the recent graduates could not find jobs anymore. Geology graduates, even those with masters degrees, had to turn to roughnecking, manual labor, selling insurance and so on and so forth; quite a distressing and gloomy tale of woe for the rockhounds.

Needless to say, this painful news sent me reeling. That was definitely not what I had in mind. I had an epiphany. Papa’s dream for my future began to flash before me, and before long, it became more than an intermittent thought. I began to think of those lawyers in Ville Platte wearing suits, black and white shoes, Panama straw hats, driving new cars, building nice homes, walking around the courthouse grounds, drinking coffee in restaurants across the street and something stronger after five, laughing and joking. A further inquiry revealed the legal field was not crowded at that time (unlike now when it has become like the geology nightmare of the 60’s). It was like St. Paul’s revelation on the road to Damascus.

I looked into what was required to enter law school, and much to my surprise, found out all a student needed was 96 hours of undergraduate work, no matter what the subject may be; history, economics, math, science, yes, even music. Further, although it was a three-year course, it could be reduced to two-and-one-half years by going to two summer sessions. However, that is no longer the case. To enter law school, a Bachelor’s Degree is required, and it is a three year course regardless of summer school.

I pondered this and checked with my academic dean, who told me I could easily transfer to the pre-law curriculum and, of course, not lose any hours. I think he favored the idea because of the overflow of students in the School of Geology. So, I made up my mind to abandon the idea of becoming a geologist and instead become a lawyer. So, sayonara Geologie, bonjour la loi.

I can still picture the ear-to-ear smile on Papa’s face when I told him of my decision. Yes, Gil Aucoin was a happy man.

There is more to come about this change of plans and my struggle to become a learned member of the Bar. I hope this column has pleased you.

I invite the readers of this column to listen to my radio program on KVPI 92.5 FM or 10.50 AM at 12:30 p.m. every other Wednesday.