Shades of 1973: Gas Lines, Energy and the Economy

Gasoline "shortages" plague the southeastern United States but local outages are but a minor indicator in an otherwise gloomy economic picture.

In 1973, I was a couple of years too young to drive, but I do remember the long lines at the gas pumps and the generally grim mood (about the economy) at the time. My parents were both public school teachers, so, in small part, we were sheltered from the broad economic picture. Today, of course, that's not the case. And, Sunday morning, I waited for about six hours at a BP station in Charlotte for gasoline. While that's seemingly got nothing to do with the economy, it does have everything to do with a flawed energy policy here in the United States and what that reality means to the broader picture.

I waited just about as long as I could to actually go and get gasoline. Determined not to get into line and exacerbate an already thorny problem, I nevertheless drove over to the local station before dawn on Sunday (running literally on fumes), buoyed by the rumor from my neighbor that a tank truck was coming in at 7 AM. That truck finally arrived just before noon, at which time I filled up and came home. I wouldn't have thought so, but you can get 20.26 gallons into a Honda Pilot.

This being my first (and hopefully last) gas line, I loaded up the laptop, some bottled water and the Blackberry and settled in at the pump for the big event. Four hours later, I had paid all my bills (you gotta love the Blackberry Internet tether), finished the Q&A and talking points for the next print edition cover and still found time to wander over to the deli across the street for a little breakfast. At the gas station, cars were beginning to back up as far as the eye could see; at least 200, if not more. And, by 10 AM, people were getting a little testy.

At 1030 AM, the station owner had his precocious little girl tow her red wagon around the station and immediate surroundings, handing out (free) iced soft drinks. It was a nice gesture and gave all of us something to yack about as the sun got higher and the lines got longer. Finally, at around 1145 AM, that big, beautiful tank truck showed up and began to thread its way carefully to the discharge area. Parting like the Red Sea, thirsty autos eased out of the mammoth vehicle's path. As an old tanker hand (and not having anything else to do), I just couldn't resist going over to watch the discharge operation.

As the driver disembarked, I greeted him. "Hey, how's it going? Nice truck." He eyed me carefully, said nothing and continued on about his business, setting the chocks and getting ready to put the discharge hose into place. "You know, I used be a tanker mate a long time ago," I advised him brightly. Nothing. A little punchy now, I continued, "So, do you have to use a grounding cable or does the truck itself provide that bond for you?" Finally, he looked up and said evenly, "You know, I'm going to have to ask you to step back from the transfer area."

Reminiscing to myself as the sweet aroma of regular unleaded gasoline filled the air, I stepped back and ambled over as he opened the valve. "Gravity flow or pumps?" I inquired politely. He really was a good sport – and I'm guessing that this was his third load of the day, all before noon – and he replied pleasantly, "Gravity." At this point, I was going to engage him in a technical conversation about the type and PSI settings on his PV valves, but the station owner was moving my way rapidly with a worried look on his face.

Not quite ready to leave my tanker daydream (and longing to participate in just one more "pre-transfer conference"), I asked him one last question. "How much are we getting?" And to that, he said, "Not as much as he (nodding at the station owner) wants. 2,500 gallons." I did the math in my head and realized quickly that not everyone in line would get fuel today. When I got back to my car (number one in line at the pumps, thank you very much), everyone else had already ripped the plastic bags (the universal signal in Charlotte for "I'm out of gas") off their nozzles and had their credit cards at the ready. Eventually and after the truck had departed, the station owner gave a wave to let everyone know that they could start pumping. I am quite certain that he was out of gasoline again within 30 minutes.

The alleged gas shortage that is now finally easing just a little in the southeast, from Atlanta, through the Blue Ridge mountains and into Charlotte, is real. Probably not as severe as it looks, local drivers – topping off whenever possible – are making a minor inconvenience into a full-blown crisis. Like four inches of snow in Charlotte, which can empty the grocery store shelves of every loaf of bread, every gallon of milk and every egg (my wife thinks that a snow day here means French Toast in the morning), the same mentality has been applied to the slowing of gasoline supplied in the wake of hurricane IKE.

In 1973, a sudden interruption in petroleum supplies resulted in people no longer able to drive their cars, long lines at the gas pumps, and a lot of head-scratching by elected officials on just what to do about it. Today's shortages have nothing to do with shortages of fuel, or anyone holding back what they have. Instead, we are now reaping the sum total of almost fifty years of political shackling of the refining industry. It is a popular thing right now to beat up on the oil companies for various reasons. But, Americans have seen little, if any refinery construction over the last thirty years. Certainly, it has not occurred in places where those facilities would be better sheltered from the elements.

Here in Charlotte, there is a lot hand wringing and moaning about "why we can't get more gasoline." But I have it on good authority that the hit on the oil industry on the Gulf Coast was not a light one. Not surprisingly, this entails some interruptions to refining capacity and then, it takes time to get the Colonial Pipeline (and others) charged up to normal conditions. The pipeline supplying this region takes the place of approximately 150 coastwise refined product tankers. The math in all of that, and what a short stoppage can mean to a relatively isolated region, is also easy to calculate. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

When we get past the debate about the "bailout" – or whatever you want to call what congress is contemplating – I'm going to suggest that we next tackle the thorny issue of energy policy. This includes the ability for Americans to exploit known reserves; in Alaska, in the lower 48 and offshore. The recent easing of offshore oil drilling restrictions by the House is only a minor step. Some dismiss it as political posturing that actually does little, in the face of pressure from a fed-up electorate during a heated election cycle. I'm inclined to agree with that point of view.

I think – no, I'm sure – that the way out of the current financial mess is rooted in our ability to wean ourselves from foreign energy and develop our own sources (and the infrastructure to process and deliver those products) here at home. And, I don't care what that entails: oil, wind, solar, nuclear, ethanol, you name it. Therein lies the key to reducing the massive trade deficits, reducing unemployment, increasing revenues for the tax coffers (don't hate me), and a hundred other things. A gasoline shortage in the southeast is but a minor inconvenience, but that event contains a glimmer of the bigger problem. And, the sooner the new President and Congress realize that undeniable fact, the quicker we'll be looking at these trying economic conditions in the rear view mirror. – MarEx

Joseph Keefe is the Managing Editor of THE MARITIME EXECUTIVE. He can be reached at jkeefe@maritime-executive.com with comments of questions on this or any other article in this e-newsletter.