Richard Fillon, a geoscientist at Texaco, discusses a cross-section of the continental shelf.


Richard H. Fillon
Exploration Geoscientist, Texaco

Richard Fillon earned a BS in geology (1966) from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute and an MS in sedimentology and stratigraphy (1970) from the University of Vermont. He worked with Florida State University's Antarctic Program, and earned a PhD (1972) from GSO. His dissertation provided the first comprehensive documentation of Antarctic marine glacial climate in the Late Pliocene. Fillon also did a post-doctoral fellowship at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. 

As an exploration geoscientist working in New Orleans, I find myself thinking that if only the Jurassic dinosaurian denizens of southeastern North America had kept a geographic database, we'd be further along in our race to understand the Mesozoic history of the Gulf of Mexico before the United States runs out of petroleum, and geoscientists run out of funding to study crustal processes and stratigraphy. But no such luck! Daily we must grapple with the Jurassic genie. This genie of the Gulf is massive, able to alter its shape and it is often cloaked in invisibility. When encountered by the drill bit, the allegory evaporates, and the genie reveals itself to be the huge quantity of sea salt that was deposited in the Middle Jurassic. Under high pressure and temperature, this salt behaves like a viscous liquid, oozing up faults and cracks in the overlying sediments and working its way along bedding planes. It has provided a slippery base for massive thrusting. The salt genie has created the fantastically complex geology of the Gulf in the process, facilitating the migration and entrapment of hydrocarbons. Mischievously, however, it disperses acoustic energy so efficiently that it frequently leaves sophisticated 3-D seismic image processing looking like a 1920's hand-corrected seismic experiment gone bad. The tricks played by the genie challenge us intellectually, as explorers and as scientists, and make our job a continuing adventure, where something new is learned almost every day.
     The job my colleagues and I do is best described by paraphrasing the great mathematician Paul Erdos' comments about mathematicians. An exploration geoscientist consumes coffee and turns it into plausible geological models that predict where relatively tiny volumes of precious liquids have come to rest after 140 million years of traveling through a seething pot of moving rock and salt. The Gulf of Mexico, considered a mature exploration province, has produced billions of barrels of oil and trillions of cubic feet of natural gas during the last 80 years. Yet as we explore for hydrocarbons under the Gulf of Mexico, we know that huge reserves still remain, deeper in the rock, beneath canopies of migrated salt, and beneath still deeper water. Natural hydrocarbon seeps on the sea floor of the deep Gulf pique the explorer's imagination. Exotic tube worms devour hydrogen sulfide and methane and the other creatures that I see from deep diving submersibles remind me that I am still, at the core, a GSO scientist.
     As I try to imagine the Jurassic framework of the Gulf of Mexico, I think back on my time at URI in the early 1970's and the diversity of learning experiences and variety of disciplines presented to me. I am grateful that I took advantage of what was offered and grateful to the faculty and students who assisted me on the road to becoming a scientist. At GSO the enthusiasm I've always had for studying the earth and its water masses was heightened, and I acquired the technical skills and professional experience necessary to turn my enthusiasm into a vocation. That vocation has led me to three rewarding careers in geoscience: in government, as a Geologic Survey of Canada research scientist with the Atlantic Geoscience Centre at Bedford Institute of Oceanography in Nova Scotia, studying the Quaternary history of subarctic oceans; in academia, as a research professor at the University of South Carolina's Belle Baruch Institute, studying the paleoceanography of the North Atlantic; and in industry, as a Texaco exploration scientist.
     I would advise late 1990's students preparing to embark on careers as scientists to work toward developing a strong base of knowledge in more than one field, as seemingly disparate as chemical oceanography and marine geophysics, for example. Also I would recommend specialization in not one, but two or three technical areas related to those fields. Consider pursuing a Ph.D. and post-doctoral program, if necessary, to accomplish this.
     Science and technology are undergoing such rapid change as we approach the twenty-first century that it is impossible to predict what will be the most exciting and productive career paths a decade from now. Oil might be sought then, not in the earth, but in the technology of molecule-assembling nannobots (microrobots). The one sure bet is that computers will play a more significant role in all aspects of our lives and work. Be computer proficient, make computer science one of your technical specialties, but to stand out among your peers, learn the limitations that computers will always have. Rely on your own informed thought and imaginative reflections for advancing knowledge and making true breakthrough discoveries.