ONCE UPON A TIME
Remembering Woolaroc & Uncle Frank Looking Back on Trips to The Lodge by Rita Thurman Barnes When Uncle Frank Phillips’ little cabin at his ranch west of town was first constructed, it didn’t quite look like this old post card rendition of what came to be known as “The Lodge”. I have fond memories of the old place with its crowded rooms and simply elegant décor. But when I remember touring the country home of the founder of Phillips Petroleum Company what I most recall is the size of the place. I doubt too many men worth what Mr. Phillips was worth when he built his little rural hacienda would have settled for something as compact as the square footage of the lodge. I imagine it would more likely have resembled the Taj Mahal or at least that of a small castle. This warm autumn afternoon reminds me so much of the days when I was just a kid and most all of my uncles and a couple of their wives were employed by Phillips and I got to go along to nearly all of the company or department summer picnics held at Woolaroc. It was a great place for a kid to run around but it was also educational even before all the advances of today’s Woolaroc. There was still the eagerly sought out dinosaur egg right out in the open in the far nether lands of the museum and the “big” airplane which no nine-year-old cared about its record setting adventures at all. They just enjoyed being up that close to a real airplane since back in the 50’s airplanes didn’t fly overhead a dime a dozen. Woolaroc is a wonderful place. Buses from all over gather daily and tourists are ushered through some of the finest western art on exhibit anywhere. Wildlife abounds and the Osage Hills are literally alive with the sound of music from both tree and ground dwelling birds of every sort imaginable. The Indian still greets you and I hope the wishing well is still there
THE FRANK PHILLIPS LODGE
and I do enjoy all the new amenities since I was a kid but it had to be those picnics and scaling the side of the hill up to the museum and the freedom to roam around that were worth more than any Russell or Remington could ever be. The name “Woolaroc” was originally intended for the rustic Lodge ranch house, but it was so unique that it soon became the name for the entire Frank Phillips ranch. And for me the beauty of Clyde Lake in the shade of a late summer’s afternoon was simply indescribable. The sight of the Native American styled tee pees still makes my heart race a bit just to think of it. Crossing the low-water bridge always made me hope for a sudden downpour and the roaming buffalo and exotic animals were simply breathtaking to me. Going out to the ranch is always
kind of like going home to a place that in a way is your home too. When I was asked to speak at the Frank Phillips Home on the occasion of Mr. Phillips’ birthday celebration I could not for the life of me think of what to talk about to such a well-informed crowd so I simply had him “write a letter” to Bartlesville through my own hand and I read it to the crowd. In that letter to his beloved city I spoke about how much Mr. Phillips loved his little plot of land out in the Osage and how he was so happy that the foundation he formed so many years ago is still taking such good care of his home in the country. I think he’d be happy to visit there today. In fact, I think he never really left at all.
OCTOBER 2020 | bmonthly
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