Ty Walker stands at the door to his family’s business, Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant, about 200 feet from the Greenwood Rising history center. Walker says he understands the concerns he hears from customers and others about the center.
Work continues in early May on the Greenwood Rising history center.
Angela Robinson, who opened the Black Wall Street Corner Store & More in Greenwood last week, is supportive of the Greenwood Rising project.
Students from Drexel Academy tour the Greenwood District on Thursday.
Ty Walker believes that Greenwood Rising will bring more customers to his Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant in the Greenwood District.
An architectural rendering shows what the exterior of the Greenwood Rising History Center building will look like when finished.
Centennial Commission Project Manager Phil Armstrong talks about the development of Greenwood Rising. Ian Maule/Tulsa World
Ty Walker and his family own one of the best little food joints in Greenwood, Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant.
It’s about 200 feet from the Greenwood Rising history center, which sits at the corner of Greenwood Avenue and Archer Street. When the facility opens Wednesday as part of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre centennial commemoration, tiny Wanda J’s will be bursting with business.
“Of course it is going to benefit us because it will drive the traffic,” Walker said.
That’s one aspect of the Greenwood Rising story — a positive one — but it’s not the whole story. The whole story, like so much in life, is complicated. And Walker — a former City Council and mayoral candidate — knows it.
“Well, that is kind of a hot-button issue,” he said.
One hundred years after white mobs burned to the ground 35 blocks of Tulsa’s thriving Black Greenwood neighborhood, killing at least 37 people and likely many more, not everyone in Tulsa’s African American community is celebrating the $20 million project.
The only Black elected official in Tulsa city government says she’s never setting foot in the place. A Black state representative who served on the commission overseeing the project resigned after losing faith in the organization. And the chairwoman of the Greater Tulsa Area African-American Affairs Commission has no plans to give Greenwood Rising the time of day.
“I have really made a commitment to myself to no longer be a victim of symbolic gestures of the killing, the oppression and just the horrible treatment of my ancestors,” said Kristi Williams.
For Williams and City Councilor Vanessa Hall-Harper, who represents most of Greenwood, the history center is more window dressing that does nothing to address the injustices and economic hardships that resulted from the events of May 31-June 1, 1921.
“It is all a farce to make Tulsa appear not to be the racist-ass city that it is as we approach the centennial. That is all it is,” said Hall-Harper.
“You have been neglecting Greenwood and this part of the community all these years — for decades. Now we are rushing in to do all these things because the eyes of the world are going to be on Tulsa, and particularly Greenwood.”
Two years ago, the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission, joined by the George Kaiser Family Foundation and others, announced a fundraising campaign to pay for a major renovation of the Greenwood Cultural Center.
The GCC historically has been the place Tulsans went to learn about and discuss the triumphs and travails of the neighborhood.
But the Centennial Commission and the Greenwood Cultural Center board could not agree on the details of the project and the respective roles the organizations would play, so the Centennial Commission moved the project a few blocks south on Greenwood Avenue.
“It is no secret that folks were saying that these monies were going to go to the Greenwood Cultural Center,” said state Rep. Regina Goodwin. “I took my name off of the Centennial Commission and was not participating because I thought there was an issue of integrity, and I think it has proven to be so.”
Williams said no one should expect African Americans in north Tulsa to be of one mind when it comes to Greenwood Rising, but she believes it is crucial that the community come together to honor the legacy of those whose lives and property were destroyed 100 years ago.
“We have to follow that blueprint that those ancestors of Greenwood left us to create our own economy within this economy and to have a network (of) community between us as Black people,” Williams said.
“We cannot be complicit with white supremacy. That is what they taught us. That is what they left us with, and we have gotten away from that.”
State Sen. Kevin Matthews, chairman of the Centennial Commission, addressed critics’ concerns about the project Thursday.
“In 2019, the commission engaged with members from the John Hope Franklin Center, Greenwood Cultural Center and the Tulsa Historical Society and held community input meetings to shape the narrative,” Matthews said.
Several other organizations and people were consulted during the design phase, Matthews said, including the Rev. Robert Turner of Vernon African Methodist Episcopal Church and Tiffany Crutcher, founder of the Terence Crutcher Foundation.
“Over 50 north Tulsa community members and supporters met to strategically plan and create a vision for the centennial four years ago,” Matthews said. “The overwhelming consensus was that the whole Greenwood story needs to be told in an experiential way — that is the first priority.”
Matthews said Greenwood Rising was chosen as the flagship initiative after community members said it was not right that the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C., had a bigger exhibit on the history of Tulsa’s Black community than existed here.
“The commission saw the centennial to be a start of a renaissance as opposed to a destination,” he said.
Up and down the 100 block of North Greenwood Avenue, the heart of what was once known as Black Wall Street, many business owners are glad to have Greenwood Rising as their neighbor and plan to visit it when it opens.
“I want to see it — see how it looks, what’s in it,” said barber Willie Sells of Tee’s Barber Shop. “We should go and see it, find out about our history. All of the children need to know.”
Sells, who has been cutting hair at the shop for decades, said it’s time for people to stop complaining about the project.
“You are always going to have somebody complaining about something,” he said. “Whatever you do, somebody will find a way to complain about it.”
Angela Robinson opened the Black Wall Street Corner Store & More last week. She’s heard complaints that there was not enough community engagement during the development of Greenwood Rising but remains in support of the project.
“Anything that is going to allow us to rebuild this area I think is going to benefit us, absolutely,” Robinson said.
Juandalyn Bailey, 66, and her daughter, Bertshalyn Bailey, 22, spent part of Wednesday on Greenwood Avenue, where the daughter runs a music studio, Musiq Community.
Greenwood Rising “is going to be a place where we can go and really get the history, hopefully the true history, of what happened 100 years ago,” said Juandalyn Bailey. “We have been too quiet about it for 100 years, but now we have something that is concrete that will let us see, but not only us, but my children and my children’s children.
“Yes, sir. I think it is a great thing.”
Bertshalyn Bailey shares her mother’s enthusiasm for the project but hopes it leads to more progress for the city.
“I think we need now to see how we can rectify with the people of Tulsa and not just build the building and open up the doors and tell the story,” she said. “It’s now time to actually put some kind of action to help people.”
A couple of miles north, near Booker T. Washington High School, lifelong Tulsan Sheilia Fuselier was happy to give an effusive endorsement of the project.
“I think it is an excellent thing,” Fuselier said. “Anything that is going to improve and bring quality and experience and more things to wake up the Black community in this particular area is an exciting thing because we have been neglected for so long in the north side of Tulsa.
“A lot of times they kind of separate north Tulsa from south Tulsa, like it’s a different entity, but we’re all as one. I just hope that this brings a change to everybody so everybody will be able to get along.”
Walker, meanwhile, said that while he’s happy to see Greenwood Rising opening next door to his business, he understands the concerns he hears from his customers and others in the community.
How will the project benefit north Tulsa residents? Could the money have been better spent on a community resource center or on a new business that would deliver jobs? Is this just another opportunity for the well-to-do to enrich themselves?
Matthews said the Centennial Commission is aware of those concerns and that already three north Tulsa residents have been hired to work at Greenwood Rising.
“The commission had traveled to Montgomery (Alabama) and realized that museums and memorials there led to economic growth and anticipates Greenwood Rising will do the same here,” he said.
Tulsa Race Massacre: This is what happened in Tulsa in 1921
In 1921, white mobs invaded Greenwood and burned it down
In 1921, Tulsa was home to one of the most prosperous African American communities in the country. Businesses flourished along Greenwood Avenue — dubbed Black Wall Street, according to tradition, by the great educator Booker T. Washington. Residential neighborhoods spread out in a bustling community of several thousand souls. In a little more than 12 hours, it was gone. A riot that began at the Tulsa County Courthouse on the night of May 31, 1921, escalated into an all out assault on Greenwood on the morning of June 1. (Photo of Mount Zion Baptist church on June 1 courtesy Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Library, University of Tulsa) Read the story here
A growing but divided city had tensions rising. How World War I influenced residents.
Tulsa in the spring of 1921 was a proud place. In the space of a decade and a half, it had grown from a dusty town of a few thousand to a city approaching 75,000. Through hard work and luck, it had become the hub of the great Mid-Continent oilfield and had no trouble bragging about it.
But there were divisions in the city and tensions were rising after World War I. Read the full story
The influence of World War I
World War I cemented Tulsa’s position as a center of the burgeoning oil and gas industry. Much of the oil that powered the Allies to victory came through the city’s pipelines and refineries and much of its production was financed by Tulsa banks.
On a social level, the war created a heightened sense of patriotism that sometimes manifested itself in white vigilantism. The war also fostered a sense of purpose among black Americans. Some 350,000 served in the U.S. forces, and while most were relegated to support duties, a few units served in combat.
Black Americans came out of the war keenly aware of the injustices they faced at home, more confident of their own abilities and more willing to fight for their civil rights.
(Photo of downtown parade courtesy Beryl D. Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa)
Key figures in 1921
Local and state leaders during 1921 included police chiefs, the mayor, the National Guard's leader and members of the Tulsa community.
Tulsa Police Chief John Gustafson (pictured above) was among them. He was hired in April 1920 despite a previous dismissal from the force and a checkered background. See the key figures here
A.J. Smitherman and The Tulsa Star
The Tulsa Star, like its editor and publisher A.J. Smitherman, was spirited and bold and sometimes known to swim against the tide. It fought racism in all its manifestations, but also what it considered timidness on the part of African American leaders.
A typical editorial retort appeared on Nov. 27, 1920:
“If, as the Tulsa World says, there are leading Colored men who favor the ‘Jim Crow’ railroad transportation laws of Oklahoma, it is the opinion of the Star these so-called black leaders are ripe for a full coat of tar and feathers and a swift ride on fence rails out of any community in which they live.”
Greenwood was defined by freedom and opportunity
“I came not to Tulsa as many came, lured by the dream of making money and bettering myself in the financial world, but because of the wonderful cooperation I observed among our people, and especially the harmony of spirit and action that existed between the business men and women.”
That is the way Mary E. Jones Parrish, a young businesswoman, described Tulsa’s African American community in 1921.
(Photo above shows Black Wall Street after it was rebuilt. Courtesy of Tulsa Historical Society)
An encounter on an elevator and concerns about a lynching
We will probably never know exactly what happened in the Drexel Building (pictured above) elevator on the rainy morning of May 30, 1921.
The general outline of the story is that a young black man known as Dick Rowland got on the elevator on the third floor of the building at 319 S. Main St., and before the doors opened on the ground floor the white operator, Sarah Page, was screaming. Read the story
Two lynchings in 1920
Two lynchings on the last weekend of 1920 held important implications for Tulsa nine months later.
Lynchings in the early 1920s were still common — at least 61 in 1920, according to one source, and 64 in 1921. Most of the victims were black.
In Tulsa, a white drifter named Roy Belton, also known as Tom Owens, was taken from the Tulsa County jail on Aug. 28, 1920, and hung from a sign along what is now Southwest Boulevard near Union Avenue.
One day later, Claude Chandler, a black moonshiner accused of killing two lawmen and wounding a third, was taken from the Oklahoma County jail and hanged.
(Photo courtesy Tulsa Historical Society)
Tulsa Tribune article cited for sparking massacre
Dick Rowland’s arrest was reported in a front-page story in the May 31, 1921, afternoon Tulsa Tribune. Headlined “Nab Negro for Attacking Girl In an Elevator,” the somewhat sensational account reported, accurately if perhaps imprudently, that Rowland was to be charged with attempted assault. It said Rowland scratched Sarah Page and tore her clothes.
As early as June 1, the Tribune’s rival, the Tulsa World, quoted the Tulsa Police Department’s chief of detectives as saying the story was largely responsible for inciting whites to become aggressive.
Dick Rowland's life threatened while jailed as crowd gathers outside
After his arrest, Dick Rowland was taken to the city jail, a decrepit, bug-infested lockup at 15 W. Second Street that was notoriously inadequate, even by the meager standards of the day.
At about 4 p.m., Police Commissioner J.M. Adkison said later, he received an anonymous telephone call threatening Rowland’s life. After discussing the matter with Police Chief John Gustafson, it was decided to move Rowland to the county jail four blocks away. The jail was on the top floor of the county courthouse (pictured above). Read the story about the phone call
A crowd gathers and a shot is fired
That evening, a crowd began to form around the Tulsa County Courthouse, where Rowland was being held. No doubt most had read the Tribune story about his arrest or heard about it.
Certainly they had heard another lynching might be in the works. Sheriff W.M. McCullough said the only attempt to take his prisoner occurred at 8:20 p.m., when three white men entered the courthouse and were quickly turned away.
Tulsans take up arms and there are issues with special deputies
In the wake of the first shots, the Tulsa World reported a few hours later, “Armed men seemed to spring from everywhere ... Practically all hardware stores were emptied of guns and ammunition.”
Several hundred of the unarmed whites first went to the National Guard Armory on East Sixth Street, now the home of the Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 577, demanding weapons. They were faced down by Major James Bell, several of his men, a civilian and a motorcycle policeman named Leo Irish, with Bell telling them to get moving or get shot. Read the story
Special deputies blamed for murder and destruction
Although reluctant to send officers to the courthouse or accept help from the National Guard while the situation there could have been controlled, Tulsa’s police chief and police commissioner did not hesitate to hand out dozens — and probably hundreds — of special commissions after the shooting started on the night of May 31.
These special officers would be blamed for much of the murder and mayhem to follow. Major James Bell of the Oklahoma National Guard told his superiors “these special deputies were imbued with the same spirit of destruction that animated the mob. They became as deputies the most dangerous part of the mob and after ... the declaration of martial law the first arrests ordered were those of special officers.”
Fighting begins in Greenwood and the neighborhood is soon overrun
By shortly after midnight, African Americans and whites were exchanging gunfire across the Frisco railroad tracks and along Detroit Avenue north to Sunset Hill — the boundary between black and white Tulsa.
Col. L.J.F. Rooney, commanding the local National Guard units, deployed 30 members of his only rifle company to Detroit Avenue, where most of the best black-owned homes faced white homes across the street. Read the story
The invasion of Greenwood begins
Some said a loud whistle signaled the invasion of Greenwood. In any event, at dawn on the morning of June 1, the neighborhood was overrun.
Black Tulsans had been surrendering themselves to National Guardsmen patrolling the district’s western fringe throughout the night, but in the morning, roughly 30 men under the command of Capt. John McCuen advanced into Greenwood itself. Their orders were to take into custody every African American they could and subdue any who resisted. Read the story
Mobs won't let firefighters douse the flames
So intent were the white rioters on destroying Greenwood that they stopped firefighters from getting to the blazes.
Firefighters testifying in an insurance case several years later said they were threatened and even shot at when they arrived on the scene of the earliest fires. Later, they received orders from Fire Chief R.C. Alder not to respond to alarms from the black district because of the danger.
That order remained in effect until the fires were out of control. Read the story
(Photo courtesy Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Library, The University of Tulsa)
Airplanes flew over Greenwood as it was attacked
Six airplanes circled the Greenwood area during the morning hours of June 1.
What they were doing, and why there were so many, has long been a matter of passionate debate. Many people believe they were used to shoot at people on the ground and bomb Greenwood.
Officials said the small craft, generally thought to be two-seat, single-engine Curtis “Jenny” biplanes, were merely keeping track of activities on the ground and relaying the information through written messages dropped in weighted metal cylinders attached to streamers.
(Photo courtesy Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Library, The University of Tulsa)
National Guard called in, denies report that machine guns were used to kill dozens
Three active Oklahoma National Guard units were based in Tulsa on May 31, 1921: a rifle company (Third Infantry, Company B), a supply company and a sanitation detachment, which was essentially a medical unit.
The rifle company, commanded by Captain John McCuen, had an authorized strength of 65 but McCuen said he never had more than 30 men at his disposal during the violence.
A special train carrying 100 members of two rifle companies and a machine gun company was dispatched from Oklahoma City at about 5 a.m. on June 1 and arrived in Tulsa shortly after 8 a.m. Adjutant General Charles Barrett accompanied the train.
Report: Machine guns killed dozens; Guard denied it
The Tulsa Tribune, on June 1, citing “reports reaching police headquarters,” said “national guardsmen turned a deadly fire from two machine guns” on a group of African Americans, killing “half a hundred.”
Mary Jones Parrish, in her “Events of the Tulsa Disaster,” described machine gun fire from atop a grain elevator located south of the Frisco tracks with direct sight down Greenwood Avenue.
The National Guard vehemently denied the Tribune story. It said it had no machine guns in its Tulsa armory but “dug up” a disabled World War I souvenir that was driven around on the back of a truck in an attempt to intimidate the public.
(Photo courtesy Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Lbrary, The University of Tulsa)
Dr. A.C. Jackson was killed as he tried to surrender in his front yard
Of all the deaths resulting from the race massacre, none was more vividly documented than the murder of Dr. A.C. Jackson.
A well-known physician and surgeon, Jackson was also the most prominent person known to have died in the massacre.
According to Jackson’s white neighbor, former city commissioner John Oliphant, Jackson emerged from his house on North Detroit Avenue at mid-morning on June 1, after fighting in the area had subsided, with his hands in the air.
Death toll remains unknown; search for graves continues today
The number of people killed in the race massacre has been a mystery from the start.
As the June 2, 1921, Tulsa World reported, under a story headlined “Dead Estimated at 100”:
“The difficulty ... is caused by the fact that the bodies were apparently not handled in a systematic manner.”
Major Byron Kirkpatrick, a Tulsa attorney on Adjutant General Charles Barrett’s staff, acknowledged reports that “a number of bodies were removed in motor trucks operated by citizens.”
“Kirkpatrick said he did not know where (the bodies) were taken,” said the World, “whether they were placed at some specific point for later attention, if they were dumped into a large hole, or thrown into the Arkansas river.”
Black Tulsans were marched through the streets and detained at camps throughout city
Thousands of black Tulsans were taken into what was described as protective custody on May 31-June 1. Some were released within hours, while others remained in a camp at the fairgrounds for days and even weeks.
Gathering up African American residents was supposed to protect those not involved in fighting and help identify those who were. And those who surrendered do seem to have avoided the worst of the violence.
But the action also opened up the Greenwood District for marauding whites to burn and loot and shoot any blacks remaining in the neighborhood.
(Photo courtesy Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Library, The University of Tulsa)
Red Cross reports the massive devastation in Greenwood
Figures from July 31, 1921 Red Cross report
House burned 1,256
Houses looted but not burned 221
Families living in tents 245
Number of families registered 1,912
Number of persons registered 5,739
From Dec. 30, 1921 Red Cross report
Whites hospitalized at Red Cross expense 48
Blacks hospitalized at Red Cross expense 135
Red Cross first aid cases related to massacre 531
One-room homes constructed 180
Two-room homes constructed 272
Three-room homes constructed 312
One-story brick or cement buildings 24
Two-story brick or cement buildings 24
Three-story brick or cement buildings 3
Families living in tents 49
(Construction summary includes buildings not built with Red Cross assistance.)
Key locations in Tulsa during the 1921 Race Massacre
The tragedy began to unfold with an encounter in the Drexel Building that led to an arrest and a sensationalized newspaper report.
A crowd gathered at the courthouse as rumors of a lynching began to circulate.
Just hours later, Greenwood was destroyed.
Click here to see a 1921 map of Tulsa that shows where it happened.
Mount Zion Baptist Church was burned down but, like Greenwood, persevered and rebuilt
Amid the growing tension and subsequent violence rapidly sweeping through the Greenwood neighborhood, a rumor began circulating:
Mount Zion Baptist Church was acting as the headquarters for a black citizen-led uprising to engage in a counter offensive against the mob of white rioters who descended upon the area.
There was allegedly a stash of weapons and ammunition stored inside the church waiting to be deployed, according to the unsubstantiated story at the time.
An eyewitness account by William “Choc” Phillips, a white teenager, was documented in the 2001 report of the Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921. It detailed what happened next that day 99 years ago, when armed white mobs swept through Greenwood killing and burning.
Phillips, who later became a Tulsa Police officer, described men firing machine guns at the church, where black riflemen attempted to protect their already damaged neighborhood.
(Photo courtesy of Tulsa Historical Society & Museum)
Tulsa Race Massacre: Quotes from survivors, officials and others
"There was a great shadow in the sky and upon a second look, we discerned that this cloud was caused by fast approaching aeroplanes. It then dawned upon us that the enemy had organized in the night and was invading our district the same as the Germans invaded France and Belgium."
Mary Jones Parrish, author of "Events of the Tulsa Disaster"
"I heard him holler and looked up and saw him coming about twenty-five feet away from me or thirty, with this hands up, and he said, 'Here am I.' ...
"I said to the fellows, "This is Dr. Jackson. Don't hurt him. ... Two men fired at him ... he fell at the second shot with the high powered rifle."
Former City Commissioner John Oliphant, describing the murder of Dr. A.C. Jackson
"... Some negoes who had barricaded themselves in houses refused to stop firing and had to be killed."
John W. McCuen, Captain of the B Company Third Infantry Oklahoma National Guard, in a written report
“After lining up some 30 or 40 of us men they ran us through the streets to Convention Hall, forcing us to keep our hands in the air all the while. While we were running some of the ruffians would shoot at our heels and swore at those who had difficulty in keeping up. They actually drove a car into the bunch and knocked down two or three men. When we reached Convention Hall, we were searched again. There people were herded in like cattle. The sick and wounded were dumped out in front of the building and remained without attention for hours.”
James T.A. West, High School Teacher (Source: "Events of the Tulsa Disaster)
“My greatest loss was my beautiful home and my family Bible. I am 92 years of age, so they failed to bother me.”
Jack Thomas (Source: "Events of the Tulsa Disaster")
“Shortly after daylight on Wednesday, June 1, 1921, I received a call to come to the hospital to dress two wounded men. I dressed hurriedly and started to the hospital. Just as I opened my front door a shot was fired at me from a nearby hill, the bullet grazed my leg. I shut the door. A few moments later my wife, hearing the shots, slightly opened the door and a second volley was fired.”
Dr. R.T. Bridgewater
Bridgewater was taken to Convention Hall to be held but soon was released. He returned to find his home ransacked. “I saw my piano and all of my elegant furniture piled in the street. My safe had been broken open, all of the money stolen, also my silverware, cut glass, all of the family clothing, and everything of value had been removed, even my family Bible.”
(Source: "Events of the Tulsa Disaster")
Photo courtesy of Department of Special Collections, McFarlin Library, The University of Tulsa
Tulsa Race Massacre: Recommended reading
If you're interested in learning more about the Tulsa Race Massacre, click this link to find four book recommendations.
Additional historical documents, including a 2001 commission's report, 1921 pages from the Tulsa World and Tulsa Tribune and more, click this link.
Tulsa Race Massacre / The Tulsa World Library
See all of the coverage of the race massacre in this special report.
Tulsa Race Massacre: Was 1921 the first aerial assault on U.S. soil?
A history of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre
Tulsa Race Massacre / The Tulsa World Library: See all of the coverage of the race massacre in this special report.
"The first time Americans were terrorized by an aerial assault was not Pearl Harbor," a CBS News story says leading up to coverage this weekend of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre.
"Scott Pelley reports on a race massacre in which an estimated 300 people, mostly African American men, women and children, were killed, and aircraft were used to drop incendiary devices on a black neighborhood in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The Greenwood Massacre of 1921 has been largely ignored by history, but Pelley finds a Tulsa community seeking to shed more light on what's been called the worst race massacre in history," a preview reads for a "60 Minutes" story airing 6 p.m. Sunday on CBS.
Context for viewers: Six airplanes circled the Greenwood area during the morning hours of June 1.
What they were doing, and why there were so many, has long been a matter of passionate debate. Many people believe they were used to shoot at people on the ground and bomb Greenwood.
Officials said the small craft, generally thought to be two-seat, single-engine Curtis “Jenny” biplanes, were merely keeping track of activities on the ground and relaying the information through written messages dropped in weighted metal cylinders attached to streamers.
To what extent this explanation was initially challenged is unclear, but in October 1921 the Chicago Defender published a story in which it said Greenwood had been bombed under orders of “prominent city officials.”
The story cited a Van B. Hurley, who the newspaper said had given a signed statement to Elisha Scott, a Kansas attorney.
Scott filed dozens of lawsuits on behalf of victims but doesn’t seem to have ever entered the Hurley affidavit into the record. There is no record of a Van B. Hurley living in Tulsa around the time of the massacre or that anyone by that name ever belonged to the Tulsa police force.
But that doesn’t mean the story did not have substance. Many people believed city officials were behind the burning of Greenwood, and the explanation that the squadron of planes was only used for surveillance struck some as suspiciously thin.
Certainly the planes had a great psychological impact on many. For example, Mary Jones Parrish wrote about them in her account, as did prominent attorney B.C. Franklin in his.
The Defender story said the planes dropped “nitroglycerin on buildings, setting them afire.”
But nitroglycerin is an explosive, not an incendiary. It is also highly unstable and dangerous.
That has caused some to speculate that something like Molotov cocktails might have been used, or “turpentine balls” — rags soaked in flammable liquid and wrapped around the head of a stick.
There are several practical reasons why trying to light and throw incendiary devices from an open cockpit airplane of that era would seem a difficult, dangerous and even foolish idea.
But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t done.
Tulsa Race Massacre / The Tulsa World Library: See all of the coverage of the race massacre in this special report.
Tulsa Race Massacre: This is what happened in Tulsa in 1921
Tulsa was home to one of the most prosperous African American communities in the country. Businesses flourished along Greenwood Avenue — dubbe…
Kevin Canfield
Staff Writer
I cover local government in Tulsa from the mayor to city council. Phone: 918-581-8313
