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This is a special encore presentation of our series on John Rockefeller and the battle to take down his monopoly of the oil industry, a story that originally aired in 2020. We hope you enjoy.

It's the dead of night in March 1872. The main street is empty and tightest fill Pennsylvania and all the homes are dark in this newly prosperous town. But suddenly the silence is broken by the sound of heavy boots on a dirt road.

Man flood into the streets, their clothes stained with oil and the light of kerosene lamps flickering across their faces. At the head of the pack walks Franklin, Tarbel. Tarbel is in his early 40s. He's tall, lean with a thick brown beard trimmed to a point. Right now Tarbel is gripping a sharpened axe. He's not preparing to hurt anyone, though he knows that tonight he may have to swing the weapon.

Tarbel turns, notices the man beside him, who looks worried. Like Tarbel, he's in the oil business. Both men run their own small companies and both produce crude oil from Pennsylvania's newly discovered deposits. Tarbel looks at the man and pats him on the shoulder. Don't worry, we'll show John D Rockefeller. We're not gonna roll over for that crook.

Frank, this seems like a bad idea. We're picking up fight with giants. No, no, no, they picked this fight. Not us. Remember that. Rockefeller is never gonna give up. Not until every last oil man is working for him. He's gonna keep buying us out one by one. Anyone who says no, the Rockefeller is gonna crush them. That's why we gotta take action. Stay strong together.

Man stares down at his feet, shakes his head, but what if we can't hold him? Look, if we all sell the Rockefeller at least we'll be on the winning side.

Tarbel shoots him in menacing glance. Now how I'll die before I take orders from any man, especially a man like Rockefeller.

Up ahead, Tarbel sees the rail station. It still looks new and polished. It's a sign of all the oil that's been discovered in Titusville and all the money that's poured in.

As the mob approaches, the security guards look up, faces suddenly full of fear. And just as quickly, they run away into the night.

Tarbel raises his axe and addresses the crowd.

All right, man. Let's go. We can't let Rockefeller get one drop of our oil. Him and the railroads? They're thieves. So tonight, we set things right.

Tarbel feels the mob surging forward. He hops over a set of tracks and makes his way to the first of the railroad cars.

In no time, the men break through the car door. The climb inside and begin rolling wooden barrels out onto the track. One barrel, then another, and another.

Tarbel gazes at them. He looks as lips and grins. Then he kicks one of the barrels aside, raises his axe and swings.

Thick oil bursts from the splintered wood, and the familiar stinging smell of crude fills the air.

He looks around and sees other men swinging their axes. Their face is splattered with black thick oil.

Tarbel wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He thinks about how much blood and sweat it took to get this oil out of the ground.

He hates the waste even one drop, but it's worth it to stop Rockefeller. Anything to keep that robber bearer from threatening his livelihood and his family's future.

Tarbel races to grab another barrel. They have to move quickly in case the security comes back with reinforcements. But Tarbel is full of energy and fueled by his anger at Rockefeller and his cronies. In this country, Tarbel thinks there's always a rich man trying to take everything for himself.

Makes Tarbel furious. So he swings down his axe, cracking yet another barrel.

The thick oil comes cushing out. Tarbel swings again, and the barrel smashes open. For Franklin, Tarbel, this feels good. He feels strong and powerful.

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