The Big Dealer

As the U.S. guards its vital defense secrets, so must oilmen keep a gimlet-eyed watch on the enormously expensive geological maps they prepare to pinpoint areas where they hope to find new oil deposits. And just as the U.S. wages unceasing shadow war against spies, so are oilmen on guard against cutthroat speculators out to filch their innermost secrets. Last week in Pittsburgh, a federal grand jury let the public in on one such cloak-and-dagger game: it indicted four men for receiving Gulf Oil Co. maps stolen by an employee, and trying to peddle them for prices reportedly up to $500,000. But even that kind of money was chicken feed to one of the indicted men: Odie Richard Seagraves, 68, an almost legendary wheeler-dealer in a land where Big Deals are as common as air-conditioned Cadillacs.

100 Enemies. Dynamic, shrewd, almost hypnotic in his molasses-smooth manner, Odie Seagraves earned a reputation as "the man who can borrow more money on less collateral than any man in Texas." Along the way, he made--and invariably lost--staggering fortunes, yet always found the backers for still another deal. "Odie," says an awed and envious rival, "can make a hundred enemies and kiss them all good-bye--and go out and make a hundred friends and get a hundred million out of it."

Big and barrel-chested, Odie Seagraves got the gambler's itch when he was barely 15, ran away from his father's farm in Corsicana, Texas to find a way to make the money flow faster. His qualifications, as his daughter later said, consisted only of "a lot of books, a lot of guts and a lot of ambition." Odie became a hotel broker, a man who lurks in hotel lobbies ready to spring out at a passing acquaintance with the magical whisper: "I've got a deal."

Whether the proposition was good or bad never bothered Dealer Seagraves. With rare charm and uncanny mental footwork, he could tell the truth about a doubtful investment in such a way as to make it seem attractive. "He is even accurate in his misrepresentations,'' admitted his enemies, and before long, Odie had built up valuable financial connections.

In the 1920s he joined Galveston's W. L. Moody III, whose father was one of the world's richest men, in creating a mammoth oil, gas and sulphur empire. Cooking deals like popcorn, Odie was one of the founders of Texas Gulf Producing Co., which has large oil reserves in the Gulf states, was one of the powers in what is now Freeport Sulphur Co. He and Moody developed and owned the famed Hugoton natural-gas field in southern Kansas and Oklahoma--"a deal," says a friend, "that has never been equaled in the world --it was worth $6 billion."

Down from the Sky. When some of the properties were later fused into the United Gas Co., Odie became president, promptly turned the company into a $100 million business, and brought Houston its first natural-gas supply by building a 150-mile pipeline from Refugio County gas fields to the city. By 1929, when Odie and Moody bought the Niels Esperson Building, one of Houston's tallest skyscrapers, Odie was worth in the neighborhood of $20 million. Then the crash brought him to earth. Houston's United Gas Corp. took over his United Gas Co.; Odie Seagraves was forced out dead-broke. With nothing but his guts, ambition and books, he had to start all over again.

Within four years he had a second fortune by bringing in the rich Greta oilfield in Refugio County. But no sooner did he hit the jackpot than he had to sell his holdings to cover overborrowings on other deals. Odie subsequently made and lost several other fortunes, breezing through each with the assurance of the man who knows he can always make another. He helped found the big Pan American Sulphur Co., and for his efforts got a big block of stock in Pan American at 49-c- a share; the stock now sells for $25, but Odie has long since traded away his interest. The trouble was that he loved deals so much and made so many that one often canceled out the other. "There was nowhere he would not go," said a friend, "if he thought there would be a deal."

Nothing but Money. "There's nothing in the world there's more of than money," Odie liked to say. He dispensed lavish tips, threw huge parties. He liked to carry around his valuables in an overstuffed briefcase. Once half a million dollars in negotiable bonds disappeared from the briefcase. When a friend shortly thereafter opened up a substantial business, Odie remarked: "I bet that rascal got my bonds." Then he shrugged: "Oh well, they're gone." In the 1940s, however, Odie discovered that even a shrewd promoter can go broke if he deals himself out of all his holdings. The Government claimed more than $100,000 in back taxes, and Odie had to auction off his furniture to pay his debts.

To get a new stake, Odie hooked up with the late International Stock Operator and Playboy Serge Rubinstein, and immediately plunged into a deal that looked as if it might change his fortunes. British shareholders were trying to squeeze Rubinstein out of a Korean gold mine in which he held controlling interest. Rubinstein offered Odie 50% of all the properties he could keep from the dissenting shareholders, and Odie successfully negotiated several settlements. But the two promoters fell out over disposal of the gold mine and joint investments in the U.S. Odie sued Rubinstein for several million dollars to cover his losses; the suit is now pending against Rubinstein's estate.

Lately, things have been going even worse for the man who founded no fewer than 200 corporations: "He's been living by his wits for the last ten years--selling an interest in an interest to get an interest," said a friend last week. As every wheeler-dealer knows, the great secret of success is knowing when to stop. Had Odie Seagraves ever learned to curb his penchant for just one more deal, he would have been one of the wealthiest men in Texas, worth some $150 million. But as every born gambler knows, the hardest thing in the world is to give up the dice.

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