River World Field Trip, Alton, IL to Lake Charles, LA and back on a working towboat, 1956

Propylene

Butylene – makes butadiene for synthetic rubber at the Firestone plant across the road. Butylene tanks spheroid, Propylene tanks spheres. Isobutane (in round) ((spheres))

We smelled a choking odor of cresylic acid. Mercaptans are sulphur compounds (find out more about mercaptans, please!) Mr. Vorman got a trifle out of hand at this point!

Took pictures here and there, including a shot of the beautiful stair-way shadow on the butylene tanks, and one of an alkylatlon unit.  Isobutane — alkylate in round tanks, high-pressure spheres.

For aviation gas — butylene, isobutane, propylene.

Hydroforming unit takes 65 octane gas and uses a molybdena catalyst and turns out high octane from low.

Catalysts used: alumina for the cat crackers, cracked gasoline.

$400 a ton – sulphuric acid for high octane aviation

molybdaga to upgrade low-octane to high octane.

Alkylation unit treats kerosene with sulphuric acid to take out the smell.

We went to the cat cracker and saw all that was visible inside — an immaculate room, quite empty except for a desk, six men at leisure, and walls of dials, all telling the operators what was going on in the mysterious interior of cat cracker. To the power plant, like a hospital, and was taken up to the roof for a picture. The pumping station takes in water from the river, uses it for many purposes, and sends it back to the river as pure as when it came in. Settling basins remove oil, etc. we went down to see the horribly burned docks and scorched tanks, and saw the stark ruin of Grandpa Pujo’s oak, all that remained of the old plantation which used to be here before Cities Service took it over.

At noon Mr. Keller invited me to luncheon. We left word at the boat that I should not be there for dinner, and drove in toward Lake Charles to the elegant new Chateau Charles.  Here we met Mrs. Emma Michie, owner, a wonderful southern lady, quite tall, white haired, dressed in purple and pearls and a southern accent. She was all solicitude, hovered over me, wanted to be sure I had just exactly the things I most would enjoy, and ordered for us. We started with a Creole gumbo which was straight out of New Orleans, with an excellent salad and tiny cinnamon rolls, which Mr. K. warned me not to eat too many of, since they were habit-forming, and there was more to come. This was a plate of delectable stuffed shrimp, which I hope I live long enough to eat more of some day. The large shrimp were each split and laid flat, with a mound of stuffing on each — probably crab meat, breadcrumbs, parsley, spices, butter. Miss Emma wouldn’t tell me the recipe, of course. With these six magnificent shrimp we had thin little French-fries and tartar sauce, and black, black Louisiana coffee. When this was all gone, she brought a Praline Trifle, which was no trifle — a large ball of vanilla ice cream rolled in chopped pecans, a chocolate-rum sauce sloshed over all, and whipped cream and a cherry on top of that! Oh calories, where is thy sting? How I do love to meet new people and eat new foods, especially as delightful as both people and things were!