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Income inequality is surging, and there are few countries where it is rising faster than the United States. The distance between rich and poor is greater in America than nearly all other developed countries, making the US a leader in a trend that economists warn has dire consequences. GlobalPost sets out on a reporting journey to get at the ‘ground truth’ of inequality through the lenses of education, race, immigration, health care, government, labor and natural resources. The hope is to hold a mirror up to the US to see how it compares to countries around the world.
Rig workers risk their lives to eke out a living, while oil titans thrive in gated communities of million-dollar homes.
Midland ranked as the second-wealthiest metropolitan area in the nation in per capita personal income in 2011. It has less than a four percent unemployment rate, well below the US national average of 7.8 percent.
The only obstacle to building in Midland, Johnson said, was the labor workforce’s struggle to keep up with the increasing demand of the housing market. “For a while there were so many people wanting homes, and simply not enough labor to actually build them.”
A fountain in the front yard of a home in the Texland Estate that belongs to the executive of an oil company operating in the Permian Basin.
Married to a petroleum engineer, Johnson is currently building her own home in Texland as a final project before taking time off to raise her two young children. The house is more than 12,000 square feet, complete with a 100-foot long indoor archery range in the basement. She designed the entire upstairs of the home for her daughters — an exact replica of the more modest home where she herself grew up.
While the current oil boom has substantially increased incomes for petroleum executives and engineers, it has been a different story for those at the city’s margins, particularly in the service industries. The influx of workers means the cost of housing and living have skyrocketed even more dramatically in Midland than in Big Spring. Many have been forced out of the city, and even out of the Permian Basin, in search of more affordable housing.
The crews of plumbers, stone layers, and insulators working on the million-dollar homes cannot afford to live in Midland. Instead, they commute two hours each way from Lubbock, 117 miles north, where housing is comparatively more affordable.
One 29-year-old worker on Johnson’s site, Daniel Salaz, earns $10 an hour as a plumber. He explained that the past year has provided a constant stream of new homes to work on, but he still struggles to pay the monthly rent and utilities on the four-room flat in Lubbock he shares with his mother, her boyfriend and four other siblings.
His room in Lubbock has holes in the walls and lacks heating and insulation. In the winter months, he and his siblings sleep huddled around a single space heater in a cramped living room.
He shares the family’s living costs with his mother, who works as a waitress at a local Denny’s — for $2.13 an hour plus tips — and her boyfriend, who has struggled to maintain a job since being released from prison.
“It takes the three of us just to survive day-to-day,” explained his mother, Kristine Ramos Salaz. “Since the recession kicked in, I don't get tips like I used to. And the little I make usually gets spent that day. Whenever a paycheck comes in, we pay a bill. We’re not saving anything, we’re living day-to-day, literally.”
Inside the home of Daniel Salaz, who works as a plumber in Texland Estates.
The Salaz family used to live in Midland, but a home comparable to what they have now would cost double, if not triple, what they are paying Lubbock.
Korinna Lillis, a case manager at the Helping Hands Center of Midland, explained that the organization has seen a dramatic increase in the number of people rendered homeless since the oil boom. “People are coming here from all over to work, but they simply can’t afford to live here.” For families who cannot double and triple up in the tiny flats surrounding the city, the oil boom is literally forcing them into the street.
Oil companies are purchasing the few affordable apartment buildings that exist. Concho Resources, an oil and natural gas company with offices in downtown Midland, recently bought the nearby Ocotillo complex and is converting the 38-unit, 18,000-square-foot, low-income housing complex into executive suite apartments for company employees. Residents who had lived there on a month-to-month basis have been left looking for housing, many not knowing where they will go next.
One Ocotillo resident, who works for $10.50 an hour as a server in a private club for second- and third-generation oil families, depended on the $500 monthly rent she was paying at Ocotillo. When Concho purchased the complex in November 2012, she was forced to get a second job to pay for a more expensive apartment — $750 a month — on the south side of Midland, literally the other side of the tracks, crammed between a decrepit halfway house for convicted felons and a trash strewn abandoned lot.
In Ocotillo, she could walk to work. The move also forced her to buy a used car — purchased with the generosity of some individual members of the private club — because Midland and the surrounding areas have no public transportation.
Yet most residents at Ocotillo are not so fortunate. With eviction looming around the corner, many are likely to join Midland’s soaring homeless population.
Although she considers herself lucky to even have found her new apartment, moving back to the city’s poverty-stricken south side provides constant reminders of a life she worked hard to escape.
“I feel highly blessed to have found this home,” she said. “It’s a new beginning for me and I’m going to make it beautiful on the inside. But once you step out that door, it’s hard not to feel that depression set in.”
While wealthy Midlanders bunker themselves away in gated oases, the south side remains exposed to the Permian Basin’s harsh and unforgiving desert. Stray dogs and roving addicts roam dusty back pathways, overgrown with cactus. The breeze carries traces of the H2S gas from nearby deposits in the surrounding oil fields. The bungalows are boarded up, and the fences are falling apart.
“Sometimes I wonder what they are trying to keep out over there,” said one south side resident and single mother of four who cleans homes in the wealthy estates cropping up throughout the city.
“I guess it’s us, right?”