Beverly Hills High School Oil Derrick
On the campus of Beverly Hills High School, this oil well is housed inside a tall beige structure. Drilling began here in the 1920s, and for decades, the school received royalties. Although it was removed in 2017, it earned a reputation for health concerns among parents and residents. According to The Guardian, students and staff were exposed to emissions for years, leading to legal battles that spanned decades.

Cardiff Tower Oil Well
This oil well sits inside a tower on Pico Boulevard, disguised as an office building. Some describe it as resembling a small synagogue or civic building. The site, owned by Freeport-McMoRan, blends into the neighborhood so well that many passersby never know it’s there. According to Los Angeles Magazine, it services 53 active wells underneath surrounding residential areas.

Packard Well Site
Disguised as a Spanish-style office building at 5733 W. Pico Blvd., the Packard Well Site is one of the most iconic camouflaged oil wells in L.A. It was built in the 1960s to minimize complaints from residents. Los Angeles Magazine reported in the article titled “4 Oil Wells Hidden in Plain Sight in L.A.” that the building was designed specifically to avoid the eyesore of traditional oil rigs while still allowing for full drilling operations in plain view of the public.

St. James Oil Well
This site, hidden behind a church-like facade at 814 W. 23rd Street, is one of the more controversial. Owned by the Catholic Archdiocese and operated by AllenCo Energy, it became the issue at the center of community protests after residents reported health issues. In 2013, the EPA forced the company to temporarily shut it down. L.A. TACO reported that the community near St. James experienced nosebleeds, headaches, and nausea, prompting years of activism for its closure.

Venoco Flower Tower
This brightly painted structure is hard to miss but easy to disregard as harmless. Often mistaken for an art installation or utility tower, it’s actually a functional oil rig. Operated by Venoco Inc. until the company went bankrupt in 2017, it became symbolic of the city's strange relationship with urban oil. As Eos noted, the tower is a visual contradiction—both a public landmark and a private industrial site.