The oil came in 1923. On May 28, out on University of Texas land in Reagan County southeast of town, the Santa Rita No. 1 — named by its crew for the patroness of impossible causes after four hard years of drilling — blew in and revealed what the Permian Basin held. Midland made itself the boom's headquarters: rather than the rigs and roughnecks of the field, it drew the offices, the geologists, the landmen, and the executives, and by 1929 thirty-six oil companies ran their Permian operations from downtown. Where blue-collar Odessa, twenty miles west, worked the field, white-collar Midland ran the business — two cities, one basin, a partnership written into West Texas ever since.
The boom has come and gone in waves ever since — the Depression bust, the postwar surge, the 1970s crest that doubled the tallest tower, the 1980s crash — and every cycle left its mark on the skyline. Then, after 2010, horizontal drilling and the Wolfcamp and Spraberry plays of the Midland Basin set the whole cycle spinning again, making the Permian the most productive oilfield in the country and Midland once more one of the fastest-growing cities in America. The wildcatter's gamble — fortunes made and lost on the price of a barrel — remains the town's founding faith.
Why People Visit Midland Texas
Midland draws visitors with a mix of oil-country heritage, museums, and that unmistakable skyline standing up off the West Texas plains. Travelers find it both the business capital of the Permian Basin and a proud, practical high-plains city with deep boom-and-bust history. It is ambitious, plainspoken, and unmistakably West Texan.
