by Curtis | Volume II
The first summer I was allowed to work out of the house, I was a stock boy at the Dhahran Air Base PX. Through this job I learned about the exotic purchases of the military; the buyers went to Europe and brought back all manner of wonderful things. The Scandinavian...
by Curtis | Volume II
ARAMCO had great schools but they stopped after ninth grade and the expatriate’s young population had to seek new digs from which to matriculate. As I understand it, the Kingdom did not wish expatriate male youth with worldly attitudes to languish in the oil...
by Curtis | Volume II
Ronnie inherited a nice control line model airplane and he had a new engine but just the one wood propeller. He didn’t want others seeing him make his first flight mistakes so the Dhahran ball field was out; I suggested we go out to the old Reclamation Yard. This was...
by Curtis | Volume II
There was student-life after Dhahran in 1953; I went to the American Community School (ACS) in Beirut for my sophomore year. Once I got over the not-being-home sniffles, I began to enjoy and explore- it was a wonderful year for me. I was a boarding student, and like...
by Curtis | Volume II
Dhahran had several mysterious teenage clubs, including the Galloping Cruds (GCs), The 666s, The Gobos, and The Rough Boogs. The girls had clubs but I was never able to convince any girl to fork over the secrets of their organizations. Kenny Groat, a New Yorker, was a...
by Curtis | Volume II
High school and college students returning to the field traveled unaccompanied sometimes. At other times, they met in New York city and were scheduled on the Camel, the Gazelle, or the Oryx. At the time, ARAMCO operated the eleventh largest private airline in the...
by Curtis | Volume I
I owe my great ARAMCO experience to my father, Rolf C. Christophersen, and my mother, Melitza Angelich Christophersen. This son of an Iowa bank cashier and daughter of an immigrant Montana merchant gave my sister, Jerry Karen, and me a vigorous start in life with our...
by Curtis | Volume I
In the spring of 1944, while parts of the world were trying to settle global differences, my father set out for Saudi Arabia. He was a mature, robust, 35-year-old machinist from Iowa, living in a trailer court in Garvey, California, with his wife, Melitza, and seven...
by Curtis | Volume I
My mother, sister, and I did not follow Dad until February of 1949 although we had several false alarms that made us think we might get there by Christmas 1948. I think we were on a fairly low priority as far as the company was concerned–the infamous housing...
by Curtis | Volume I
In 1949, there were fewer than 100 children in the Dhahran Senior Staff School; it was actually in the low nineties, kindergarten through ninth grade. There were fewer students at Ras Tanura and Abqaiq. The school was on the trimester schedule and we followed the New...
by Curtis | Volume I
My school vacation routine (April, August, December) was to awaken early and read until Dad left for work. I’d have breakfast and head for the recreation area. If the family had just come back from long leave, which was 90 days, I had catch-up school until the first...
by Curtis | Volume I
We Scouts met early at the south fence where it angled to include the Davies mansion, the only two story residence in Dhahran. It was clear and hot! We were headed to al Azzaziyah spit and our course of ESE would take us just south of the runway and through Bedouin...
by Curtis | Volume I
The Dhahran to Al Khobar road of the late nineteen forties was sandy, rocky, and partially surfaced with oil . It passed by the Arab police station, Saudi camp, the U. S. Consulate, the hobby farm, emhoff gardens, Dhahran Rolling Hills golf course, the airport, and...
by Curtis | Volume I
When we moved into 1047, a portable on Dhahran’s east side near the head of seventh street, we were on the edge of the desert. The town had several areas and they were named with humor intended: Skunk Hollow, the Flats, Whiskey Gulch, Easter Egg Row, etc....
by Curtis | Volume I
My first memory of going to Arabia is the doctor visit. We received extensive directions for passports, shipping, and medical requirements over the months before we left. After physicals to determine our ability to withstand the rigors of the eastern province of Saudi...
by Curtis | Volume I
In the early 1950s, a KLM flight bound for Dhahran encountered an unexpected shamaal on arrival. The captain made several approaches and was unable to land. Bahrain was socked in, too. The pilot steered for Basra at the head of the Gulf but en route, Dhahran’s...
by Curtis | Volume I
Dad told the story about the first refrigerated shipment of fresh food: celery. He said everyone in the room was crunching their celery like there was no tomorrow. That was before the new dining hall, but it illustrates the importance one places on quality of life....
by Curtis | Volume I
On Christmas Eve the few hundred Christian oil workers and their families gathered to see the Nativity. We were on the Dhahran ball field huddled in the bleachers. There were fires, and desert wood smoke seasoned the air. Camels, goats, sheep, and donkeys lent their...
by Curtis | Volume I
I think we lived in Skunk Hollow, the Flats, or the Sticks. I could never keep it straight. You’d have to ask Steve Furman, who was Dhahran’s resident historian youngster. He lived there throughout the early development of Dhahran. The town was...
