Acknowledgements
This is not the book I set out to write. The Boom began as a COVID project—to pass the time and make the most of a year-long research and scholarship leave in 2022–23. I had originally planned to work on a different topic, but like so many things upended by the pandemic, I had to improvise and adjust on the fly. As the world slowly began reopening, I calculated that I was more likely to gain access to local archives before national or international ones—and that gamble paid off as travel restrictions gradually loosened. Even then, my research had a different focus before I concluded that I needed to cover the first Turner Valley boom. While going through the digitized newspaper collection at the University of Calgary Libraries, I stumbled across a few ads for Black Diamond Oil Fields that stood out from the flurry of advertisements in Alberta newspapers in 1913–14. As I dug deeper, the stories became increasingly colorful, and it didn’t take long for me to realize there was a compelling story worth telling.
Historians always accumulate debts to archivists and librarians who unfailingly lend their help and expertise. Nadine Hoffman, the History Department’s librarian—and one of my late sister Ann-Marie’s friends—kept me updated on when archives would reopen. Finally, in the spring of 2023, I was back at the Glenbow Western Research Centre, and the project really took off.
At many steps along the way, I have received excellent advice and guidance. At the Provincial Archives in Edmonton, I had the good fortune to work with Michael Gourlie, Kathy Epp, Elizabeth Johnson, and Kari Cartwright. At Library and Archives Canada in Ottawa, Michel Brideau and Alexandra McEwen were invaluable in helping me navigate their collections; Wade Popp at the National Archives in Kansas City; and Lynn Bullock at the City of Calgary Archives. I’m also grateful to all the staff and archivists at the Glenbow Western Research Centre. With its fabulous reading room and helpful staff—especially Allison Wagner and Maggie Hunter—I am only partially joking when I tell people it is my summer home. This project benefited enormously from the expertise and generosity of all these individuals.
This book owes a great deal to the hard work and skill of the exceptional team at the University of Calgary Press—Brian Scrivener, Helen Hajnoczky, Alison Cobra, Melina Cusano, and Peter Enman, who has now edited two of my books. I’m also grateful to the two anonymous reviewers who offered insightful feedback and suggestions for improving the manuscript. As always, any remaining errors are mine alone.
For a historian, writing a book is an exercise in delayed gratification—but it’s hardly a solitary pursuit. I’m more grateful than I can say to the friends, family, and colleagues who offered encouragement, advice, suggestions, or simply listened patiently as I launched into yet another story about the Turner Valley boom. Many thanks to my departmental colleagues, past and present, at the University of Calgary, beginning with our outgoing department head, Jewel Spangler. I’m grateful to George Colpitts, Petra Dolata, Warren Elofson, John Ferris, Betsy Jameson, Nancy Janovicek, Hendrik Kraay, Mark Konnert, Courtnay Konshuh, David Marshall, Amie Kiddle, Frank Towers, and Tim Stapleton—all of whom patiently and politely indulged me or offered suggestions. Special thanks to my departmental neighbor and colleague Lyndsay Campbell, who went above and beyond to patiently answer my many questions about Alberta’s laws and legal history.
I’ve been fortunate to meet and occasionally work with many talented and generous people—and to form lasting friendships along the way. My thanks to Mark Baron, Scott Beekman, Dave Chin, Sarah Jarvis Deschamps, Darren Dochuk, Alfred E. Eckes, Jr., Tim Glowa, Richard Hawkins, Rob Huebert, Jim Keeley, Kim Little, Dominique Perron, Francine G. Smith, Justyna Sarna, and David Wachal. Each of you contributed to this project in your own ways—through encouragement, guidance, or by helping me navigate life’s problems. Often, you did all three. Everyone carries a sack of hammers, but it’s generous, kind people like you who help lighten the load or offer comfort. My life is a better place because you are in it.
Families experience the writing of a book more intimately than anyone else, becoming part of the process in too many ways to count. My two boys, William and Jack, had front-row seats as the story of George Buck took shape. They listened intently over dinner conversations and came to accept that their dad might vanish into pre-war Turner Valley for long stretches. Thanks to Jack for always checking in on my progress and for helping to choose which pictures to use; and to William, for his Photoshop skills. You both keep me grounded—and made sure I took breaks for video games and table hockey.
My mother, Audrey, was the manuscript’s first proofreader and welcomed our conversations being overtaken by Turner Valley’s stories. She never hesitated to tell me when things didn’t make sense and—true to form—didn’t even blink when I told her one night that there might be a book in the tale of George Buck.
This book holds special meaning because of two people who helped inspire it—my dad, Tony Chastko, and my late uncle, George Glowa—neither of whom got to see it completed. They taught me the importance of a great story at countless family dinners. Unlike a historian, however, they might have played fast and loose with the details—but always in service of the story.
My dad arrived in Calgary during a later boom in 1968, a newcomer to the oil patch, and launched himself fully into the life of a Calgarian until his passing in 2009. As I wrote certain sections, I could hear his laugh and see his smile. I think he would have loved this book.
My uncle George saw the early stages of this project. One late summer evening, he asked what I was working on. I gave him a quick sketch of George Buck and Turner Valley in 1914, and he instantly knew it was a helluva story. Every few months, he’d ask for updates. Just before he passed, I sent him four chapters—but I don’t know if he got to read them. Maybe, as my cousins—Tim Glowa, Jackie Kane, and Michelle Wilks—read this book, they’ll remember the stories our dads used to tell at countless family dinners.
Finally, to my partner, wife, and ride-or-die—Michelle—what more can I say than I’m having the time of my life, fighting dragons with you. Yes, I just quoted a Taylor Swift song in the acknowledgements. There’s nothing I can’t do with you by my side—except for a true crime podcast. Unless, of course, it’s about George Buck . . .