The rolling hills of southeastOklahoma stretch fromNorman across toArkansas and show little evidence of the vast deposits of crude oil that were once beneath them. Some old rigs dot the countryside; the active ones churn on, pumping out a few gallons with each slow turn and prompting a passerby to ask if the effort is really worth it. Many have simply given up, and sit motionless amid the fields as corroding reminders of the glory days of gushers and wildcatters and instant fortunes.
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There are rigs scattered through the farmland aroundAda , an old oil town of sixteen thousand with a college and a county courthouse. The rigs are idle, though—the oil is gone. Money is now made inAda by the hour in factories and feed mills and on pecan farms.
DowntownAda is a busy place. There are no empty or boarded-up buildings onMain Street . The merchants survive, though much of their business has moved to the edge of town. The cafes are crowded at lunch.
The Pontotoc County Courthouse is old and cramped and full of lawyers and their clients. Around it is the usual hodgepodge of county buildings and law offices. The jail, a squat, windowless bomb shelter, was for some forgotten reason built on the courthouse lawn. The metham-phetamine scourge keeps it full.
