From showman to driller

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Most people in south Louisiana know of Alba Heywood because he became president of the pioneering oil company that drilled Louisiana’s first commercially successful well. But before he was a big success in the oil business he was a big success as a comedian and impersonator.
It probably was useful in his later life that he was a showman who knew how to count his money, even though he nearly got himself killed because of it.
According to his obituary in the Jennings Times-Record in November 1921, “he had a natural ability as an Impersonator,” and became the star in a troupe that included his brothers and future partners in the Jennings-Heywood Oil Company.
“[He began] at the age of 21, as an entertainer with his brother O.W. as advance agent, manager, and full partner, [and] they toured the country for 20 years,” according to the obituary. “During that time, Clint Heywood as Euphonium Soloist, Dewey Heywood flute soloist, [and] Scott Heywood cornet soloist … [were] known as ‘Alba Heywood and His Peerless Company’.”
If the reviews in old newspapers can be believed, they put on a good show.
A Topeka, Kansas, newspaper reported, “The impersonations by Alba Heywood … and his imitations of the Edison phonograph and steam calliope were almost perfect.” Dewey Heywood’s flute solo of “Come Back to Erin” was “finely executed,” and “as a whole the company is … first class.”
Another reviewer claimed several years later that “[Alba] Heywood [is] one of the finest impersonators in this country or Europe.”
Alba’s brother Scott was the first family member to see the possibilities of the oil business. He was in California when he heard about the famous Lucas well drilled at the Spindletop field near Beaumont in 1901.
Scott “came immediately to Beaumont and secured a fifteen-acre lease” then “wired his brothers, who were playing in the plains of North Texas, of the proposition and for money to make further developments,” the obituary records.
Dewey gave up the flute and went to Beaumont to join Scott; while they were there they heard about natural gas seeping out of the ground on Prairie Mamou near Jennings, which piqued their interest in drilling in Louisiana.
Alba sent some money to invest in the oil ventures but stayed for a while longer with the business he knew. His obituary notes, “It was during the time the first well was being drilled that Alba and O.W., still in the show business, played the town of Jennings.”
Alba eventually joined his brothers and had enough business savvy to become president of their company — which might not have happened if a scrap in a Texas opera house had turned out differently.
That fracas flared up in 1898, and newspapers across the country at first reported that the “famous comedian” had been shot dead. But O.W., still manager of the troupe, quickly sent out a telegram saying Alba was very much alive and theater operators had no need to cancel his scheduled performances.
“The difficulty which led to the shooting arose over the manager of the opera house issuing more complimentary tickets than was mutually agreed upon, and when Mr. Heywood [demanded] a settlement according to contract the manager attacked him with a gun, striking him in the face and head and shooting him through the chest,” according to one press report.
(The cynical among us may read “issuing more complimentary tickets than was mutually agreed upon” as “skimming money owed to the performers.”)
It seems like the manager might have gotten the worst of it. Heywood had his own gun and “fought for his life, shooting the manager four times — in the groin, head, side, and chest.”
The first report was that both men were killed, but actually neither one was. O.W. soon assured everyone that “while [Alba] was seriously wounded and his life despaired of at first, he has fully recovered and will positively appear … as advertised.
“Although Mr. Heywood was shot clear through with a 41 [caliber] Colt’s, we are glad to say that he had none of the fun which has made him famous seared out of him.”
I find no account of whether that gunfight played any part in Alba’s decision just a couple of years later to trade life on the stage for a turn in the oil patch. I doubt it, though. There’s a reason oilfield workers acquired the name “roughnecks” in the days when oil was in its infancy. A few of those guys carried guns, too.
A collection of Jim Bradshaw’s columns, Cajuns and Other Characters, is now available from Pelican Publishing. You can contact him at jimbradshaw4321@gmail.com or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.