The Globe and Mail

Hank Swartout built 26 oil and gas drilling rigs for customers before he went into the business himself in 1985, just ahead of the worst of that decade's energy bust. He mortgaged his house to found what later became Precision Drilling Corp. The firm grew from a market capitalization of $1 million into one of the world's biggest drilling companies, worth roughly $7 billion by 2005. But Swartout then split it up, selling its international operations and technology arm near the top of the market, and converting the Canadian rig fleet into an income trust. While skeptics questioned those moves, Swartout now reveals that, behind the scenes, he was battling multiple sclerosis, which prompted him to retire this past summer at age 56.

When did you find out you had MS?
About eight years ago. You should stay away from stress. Every year you feel a little bit more of it. It gets to a point where you don't need the stress. And after 22 years as CEO, you should leave. There's only a certain amount of time when you can do everything.

How did you decide to become a spokesperson for MS?
I didn't really want to do it, but if it benefits MS sufferers for me to tell the world that I have it, and that I'm coping with it, doing what I can and donating money for research, then that's what I should do.

What are you going to do with your free time?
I do a lot of shooting; I like to shoot birds. I golf. My wife and I are going to do a bit of travelling. I have a place at Bighorn [near Palm Springs] and I have a place in the Turks and Caicos as well. I love to deep-sea fish.

You have the image of a gruff roughneck. How would you describe yourself?
Around Precision, I always told 'em that I was a benevolent dictator. But people who know me know that I'm a generous person. I'd rather give than take. I've never belittled a roughneck on the rig, because he could become the boss. And the roughnecks made us a lot of money.

Precision was a big success, but it's a lot smaller than it was. Any disappointments?
If there was anything I didn't do properly, it probably was strategic planning for succession. I was sort of more dominant than I needed to be, possibly. I would just get things done.

What got you interested in the business?
When I sat at boarding school in Saskatchewan reading Time magazine, finding out that drillers could make a lot of money.

Was there a single factor that was key in propelling Precision?
We just evolved. It was fortunate that we had a lot of good people always trying to outperform themselves. That's how we led.

What was the most fun?
The small victories—getting a rig to work when no one else could.

How did you feel when you mortgaged your house to start Precision?
I wasn't worried that I wouldn't survive. Let's keep in mind, come 1985, I not only owned a portion of three rigs, I was the superintendent, I was the relief tool-pusher, I was everything. I didn't have anybody else. If we had people over at our house on Sunday, if there was a problem with the rigs, I'd just change my clothes and go, no questions asked.

You still have a lot of new projects on the go. What's up in Mexico?
I have a partner named Carlos Slim, one of the richest guys in the world. I didn't realize he was that rich when I went to see him. He wanted to get into the turnkey drilling business. He knew that Precision had done it before, so I had to go down and have a chat with Carlos.

And real estate in British Columbia?
I've got a huge development called Copper Point II out at Windermere Lake—a hotel and a golf course, among other things.

The drilling business is a lot tougher right now, with low natural gas prices and too many rigs. Do you still have your Precision stake?
No shares. I sold them last year because I knew the market would drive the price down from $40 to $20. It didn't have a chance. I've been through this cycle many, many times before.