February 15, 1910: Midway-Sunset Oil Field, Kern County, California
The air at the Lakeview site was heavy with heat and the cloying, metallic scent of fuel. For weeks, the massive Kingston rigs had been biting deep into the stubborn rock of the California desert. Hundreds of workers labored across a skeletal forest of wooden towers, but every eye in the field was fixed on one spot: Lakeview No. 1.
After drilling down over 2,200 feet, the bit finally punched through the final layer of caprock, piercing a high-pressure sea of oil that had been waiting for eons.
The ground began to tremble first, a low-frequency hum that the men felt in the soles of their boots. At 8:00 AM, the pressure finally screamed. What began as a deep rumble quickly escalated into a terrifying, high-pitched shriek as metal pipes groaned and snapped under the subterranean strain.
Then came the eruption. A column of thick, crude oil—black as midnight and slick with the scent of raw wealth—shattered the derrick floor with the force of an explosion. It pulverized the wooden crown block and soared nearly two hundred feet into the desert sky. It was the Lakeview Gusher, a black geyser roaring into the atmosphere. But unlike the chaotic disasters of the past, Kingston Oil was ready.
Michael Kingston stood on a low ridge half a mile away, the dry wind carrying a fine mist of oil that coated the leather of his duster. Beside him, Jack Copper held a stopwatch, his eyes shielded against the glare as he watched the massive plume.
"It's been flowing at this rate for six hours, sir," Jack reported over the distant roar. "The manifold readings are off the charts. The scouts from Standard and Union are already circling the perimeter like vultures. They've never seen a flow like this in the West."
Michael didn't look at the scouts. He was watching the base of the derrick, where a team of Kingston engineers moved with the synchronized precision of a clockwork mechanism. They weren't panicking; they were implementing the containment protocols Michael had drafted months prior, utilizing a sophisticated evolution of the "Christmas Tree" apparatus.
"The valves are holding," Michael observed, his voice steady.
He watched as his crew manipulated the heavy assembly. Unlike the clunky, desperate gate valves used at Spindletop a decade ago, this design was elegant. The blowout preventer was doing its job: heavy valves throttled the upward surge to protect the casing, while side-shunts diverted the torrent into multiple pipes, ensuring the force didn't overwhelm any single line. He could see the men adjusting the nozzles—the "sand guards"—to prevent the grit from the deep earth from eroding the metal.
As the flow was diverted into temporary sumps, the violent spray finally subsided into a controlled, thundering stream.
"Everything is working, Jack," Michael said, a faint smile touching his lips. "The pressure is stabilizing."
Jack checked his ledger. "Based on this rate, sir, this single well will provide more oil than our entire operation at the Salt Lake field."
Michael nodded. The Salt Lake Oil Field, which the Kingstons had leased to Standard Oil for ten years, had finally returned to their control in 1907. Since then, Michael had used the revenue to systematically acquire small, independent refineries across Southern California, creating a patchwork network to handle this very moment.
"And the progress at Wilmington?" Michael asked, turning his gaze toward the south.
Following the success of their refinery in Beaumont, Texas, Michael had authorized a second industrial titan at Wilmington, near San Pedro harbor. It was designed to be the 'Beaumont of the West,' sitting at the end of his private pipelines with direct access to Pacific shipping.
"The main distillation towers are up," Jack replied. "The deep-water pier is ready, but the final plumbing for the cracking units is still being calibrated. It will take another month to be fully operational."
Michael calculated the volume of the Lakeview strike. "We can't wait a month. If this gusher maintains its rate, we'll drown in oil before Wilmington is ready. Contact the independents we bought in Santa Maria and Bakersfield. Divert the overflow to them immediately. I want every drop processed and moved to the Kingston General Stores and gas stations."
"I'll relay the instructions, sir," Jack said, turning to head toward the encampment.
Michael remained on the ridge for a moment longer, watching the black geyser. As they eventually walked back toward the car, leaving the thundering energy of the well behind them, Jack glanced at his notes.
"The expansion of Kingston General Stores is outstripping our supply chain, sir," Jack said, his voice carrying a note of concern. "Our demand for agricultural products and raw materials for Kingston Foods & Flavors is growing exponentially. We are currently vulnerable to market price hikes and inconsistent quality from external wholesalers."
Michael stopped by the door of the M-2, looking out over the arid valley. "Then we solve it at the source, Jack. We need to grow our own products."
Jack paused, looking at Michael in confusion. "Grow our own, sir? You mean... agriculture? You intend for us to become farmers?"
"Yes," Michael said, his eyes calm. "I have already been developing the strategy. We aren't just going to buy land; we are going to build an integrated agricultural network. We will acquire massive farming tracts for direct production, but we will also reach out to the small, independent farmers who are being squeezed by the rail monopolies. We'll sign exclusive contracts—offering them stable prices and the use of Kingston machinery in exchange for their yields."
He pointed toward the fertile horizon. "We will start with the Central Valley. The climate and soil are unmatched for the high-margin goods our stores currently pay a premium for. We secure the land, build the irrigation, and integrate the local farmers. Once the processing centers are established here, we move east into the Midwest for the grain."
Jack nodded, quickly noting the shift in the Kingston portfolio. "I'll begin identifying the most fertile districts, sir."
"Do that," Michael said as he stepped into the car. "I want the Kingston name to be synonymous with the nation's dinner table."
News of the Lakeview Gusher hit Wall Street with the same force as the oil hitting the sky. In the days following the successful containment, shares of Kingston Oil rose by ten percent, adding nearly thirty million dollars in market value to the family's equity.
***********
As the calendar turned toward April, Michael weaponized the full scale of his empire to prepare for his next gamble: the film industry. He initiated a 360-degree publicity blitz the likes of which the public had never seen. Every Kingston newspaper ran daily features and serialized production diaries, while every one of the Kingston General Stores was plastered with high-quality lithographic posters.
By the time April 15, 1910, arrived, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch. The Count of Monte Cristo was released simultaneously in 320 theaters across the United States. In an era where most films were distributed as single prints that traveled slowly from one regional exchange to another, this was a revolution. An Edison Studios release typically involved fewer than fifty prints on a staggered schedule. By launching on 320 screens at once, Michael had created the industry's first true simultaneous national release.
April 15, 1910
Thousands had gathered at theaters eager to see "The Count of Monte Cristo" on the silver screen.
Inside, the lights dimmed for the 120-minute spectacle. It was a landmark length for 1910—a two-hour journey that required a level of focus the public had rarely given to the films before.
The audience was immediately captivated by the visual quality of the film. Michael had specifically instructed the designers to give the early 1800s costumes a modern touch, ensuring the clothes looked stylish and aspirational to the 1910 eye rather than just dusty museum pieces. Michael's suits as the Count featured sharp tailoring and heavy capes that fit his broad frame perfectly, creating a look of refined masculine power. Evelyn's gowns as Mercedes were equally impressive, using intricate lace and flowing silk that looked elegant and timeless.
The sword fights were a major point of interest. Instead of the slow and exaggerated swordplay common in stage plays, the duels were fast and lethal. The Kingston microphones captured the sharp, singing hiss of steel with such clarity that the sound felt visceral. For the younger viewers, the realism was thrilling; Michael moved with a calculated grace that felt dangerous and authentic.
The plot, heavily influenced by Michael's vision of a streamlined narrative, kept the audience engaged. The story followed Edmond Dantès, a young sailor betrayed by his friend Fernand Mondego and wrongfully imprisoned in the grim Chateau d'If. During his years of isolation, Edmond met the Abbé Faria, a fellow prisoner who became his mentor, teaching him science, languages, and the secret location of a vast hidden treasure on the island of Monte Cristo. Following Faria's death, Edmond staged a daring escape and recovered the legendary fortune, reinventing himself as the enigmatic and fabulously wealthy Count of Monte Cristo. He returned to France not as the simple sailor they once knew, but as a sophisticated nobleman calculated to systematically dismantle those who had ruined him.
In a significant departure from the original novel, the film revealed that Mercedes had married Fernand only because she was pregnant with Edmond's child, Albert. She chose the marriage to protect her son and give him a name, believing Edmond was dead. This change heightened the emotional stakes of the final act. Instead of the book's more somber conclusion, the film reached a climax with a brutal, high-stakes duel between Edmond and Fernand. The audience cheered when Edmond finally reclaimed his life and his family, ending the film with a happy reunion between Edmond, Mercedes, and their son.
As the final frame faded into total darkness, the theater remained quiet for a few moments before the audience broke out with thunderous cheers and sharp whistles. The 320 theaters across America had the same enthusiastic reaction. The verdict was clear: the public didn't just enjoy the film; they were fascinated by the new era of storytelling it represented.
[Note: The plot of the film is the same as the 2002 film version of The Count of Monte Cristo].