SOUTHERN HORIZONS 



increase our output of aviation gas and synthetic rubber, 

 both vital war munitions that May 1942. 



From the top of the two-hundred-foot steel tower to 

 the ground, every inch of the elaborate apparatus had 

 been checked and double-checked. On a platform one 

 hundred and fifty feet in the air, telephone in hand, 

 stood Henry Voorhees, the technical boss. On the 

 ground, Marion Boyer, the plant manager, nodded the 

 go-ahead. The valves were opened. A brief moment of 

 heart-stopping suspense, and nothing happened! 



It did not work. But the trouble was soon diagnosed. 

 The temperature in the reactor chamber was too low. 



Someone suggested building a fire in the reactor, to 

 "heat her up." It was a scary proposal. What if it blew 

 off the top and ruined a million dollars' worth of ap- 

 paratus? Boyer made the decision and five gallons of 

 torch oil were gingerly poured in, then five more, then 

 a barrel. The reaction started! 



"Sweet Lady Luck put her arms around our necks 

 and kissed us on both cheeks that day," said Marion 

 Boyer afterward. 



All over America petroleum men had been watching, 

 and in Washington and London, war-strained generals 

 and admirals anxiously awaited the good word that 

 this new plant had come successfully into production. 

 The hard-pressed Royal Air Force was calling for more, 

 more, always more aviation gasoline. Our own great 

 streams of fighters and bombers were just beginning 



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