Newer buildings are being built next to the historic Greenwood District in Tulsa. JOHN CLANTON/Tulsa World
Toni Fritz and Lamond Young place their orders at Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant on Greenwood Avenue on Tuesday, June 4. MEGAN ROSS/Tulsa World
Ricco Wright stands in front of the Black Wall Street Gallery on Greenwood Avenue. JOHN CLANTON/Tulsa World
Waitress Haylee Thomkins hands Constance Jones her takeout order outside Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant. MEGAN ROSS/Tulsa World
Traffic on I-244 passes over Greenwood Avenue, the Historic Black Wall Street. 2021 will be the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre, which destroyed the prosperous African American business district that stretched along Greenwood Avenue from the Santa Fe Railroad tracks as far north as Pine Street. JOHN CLANTON/Tulsa World
Artwork decorates the underside of an overpass above Greenwood Avenue. MEGAN ROSS/Tulsa World
A mealtime visit to Wanda J’s ties into the big picture in the episode and includes a recap of Black Wall Street’s history and the Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921. Tulsa World file
Tables await customers inside Wanda J’s Next Generation Restaurant on Tuesday, June 4. MEGAN ROSS/Tulsa World
Editor's note: This story, published in 2019, examined the changing dynamics of the Greenwood District that left many longtime Black residents and business leaders grappling with the reality that the historic surroundings were rapidly being overtaken by gentrification. The Tulsa World is reposting this article in wake of a recent Washington Post story that probed this issue.
Standing on the corner of Detroit Avenue and M.B. Brady Street on a warm, spring evening holding a smartphone to his ear, Ricco Wright laments about no longer recognizing the location on the northern leg of the Inner Dispersal Loop.
Wright takes it all in before rattling off a list of businesses and structures that he perceives are out of place.
“What I’m seeing on the east side of the street has nothing to do with the history of Greenwood,” Wright said bluntly.
Wright, who owns the Black Wall Street Gallery, 101 N. Greenwood Ave., in the heart of iconic Black Wall Street, believes not enough has been done to protect black culture in the Greenwood District from outsiders who historically haven’t sought to respect it.
He is not alone in expressing that sentiment. Many residents of the near-downtown district can see neighboring Tulsa Arts and Blue Dome districts flourish around it with upscale restaurants and entertainment venues while the Greenwood District, particularly Black Wall Street, struggles to regain the prominence it enjoyed before and after the 1921 Tulsa race massacre.
He mentions Living Arts of Tulsa, 307 M.B. Brady St. Next is She Theatre & Lounge, 321 E. M.B. Brady St. Then Wright pinpoints ONEOK Field, 201 N. Elgin Ave., before eventually identifying “a company I don’t even know the name of” near Archer Street.
White businesses, Wright said, have been encroaching on what were historically black-owned spaces. Greenwood District’s neighbor to the west, the Tulsa Arts District (formerly known as Brady Arts District) is a hub of coffee shops, boutiques, a bodega and even a cycling exercise studio.
These places, Wright explains, are markers of the gentrification that has infringed upon the Greenwood District over the years and slowly robbed the area of its once proud African American history. City leaders, he says, haven’t prioritized cultural preservation of the cherished blocks that make up the district except for plaques embedded on sidewalks around Greenwood to remember businesses once there.
“I’m not opposed to coffee shops and Whole Foods, but those are signs of gentrification,” he said.
Noticeable change
At its zenith, Greenwood featured more than 300 black-owned businesses including retail and grocery stores, medical centers and movie theaters. Greenwood boasts just 20 businesses owned and operated by African Americans nearly a century later.
“You can see the gentrification happening,” longtime local activist Kristi Williams said.
Williams has made it her mission to push for local government accountability and tangible investment in north Tulsa at City Council meetings and public forums.
She fears that old-guard businesses of the Greenwood District like popular eatery Wanda J’s and nearby Tee’s Barbershop are being “pushed out” due to financial and legal struggles.
GreenArch, a $9.5 million apartment complex, moved in on the corner of Archer Street and Greenwood Avenue. The recently opened Holiday Inn Express and Suites, also on Archer Street, markets itself as a Tulsa Arts District location on the hotel’s website despite officially residing in Greenwood. A Holiday Inn spokesperson told the Tulsa World that the business was in the process of updating the website.
Wherever the existing businesses along the stretch of Greenwood lie, those properties are part of the capitalistic invasion that fails to enrich the district’s legacy, Williams said.
“This has been happening for years, and people are starting to notice,” she said. “This city has been masterful at pulling people away from the area.”
Arguably the most successful business in the area today — one that has ignited acrimony among black residents and business owners alike — is the $39.2 million ballpark that protrudes well into Greenwood.
But nine years after the first pitch was thrown at the new home of the Tulsa Drillers, Mechelle Brown, Greenwood Cultural Center program coordinator, said black residents have not reaped its promised benefits from 70 game days and nights a year.
“What we were told years ago is that the ballpark would bring jobs. However, when you go to the ballpark, you rarely see a lot of African Americans working there and definitely not in administrative positions,” Brown said. “It did not bring jobs to our community, and it has not had a huge impact economically.”
Brown said the resentment over ONEOK Field runs so deep that many black residents refuse to patronize it.
Former City Councilor Jack Henderson, who supported the ONEOK Field project at the time, said the Greenwood District site was “a fit that helps the north Tulsa community.”
These days, Henderson, despite the criticism, maintains the stadium has helped revitalize the district and inspired commercial development in the area — something he says might not have been possible before the minor league baseball facility existed.
“A lot of people don’t see that as a positive because a lot of people didn’t want the stadium to come,” Henderson said. “They thought they lost so much with the Greenwood District experience. I don’t see it like that. I see it as a positive. It is going to take time, but I think we are going in the right direction now with other things being added to Greenwood.”
Urban renewal birthed gentrification
For anyone who has studied the history of Greenwood, or lived it, what’s happening in 2019 is an all-too-familiar story.
After the race massacre all but destroyed Greenwood and its thriving business district, black residents remarkably rebuilt it even stronger than before, until urban renewal projects and construction of Interstate 244 forever changed its economic landscape.
Tulsa author Hannibal B. Johnson explained that gentrification in the district began as early as the 1960s with the creation of the Urban Renewal Authority, which had eminent domain power.
“URAs around the country abused that power by targeting communities of color for property acquisition and highway location,” said Johnson. “This fractured urban communities nationwide.”
Others theorize that zoning law changes over the years affected Greenwood’s ability to expand while encouraging — intentionally or not — adjacent districts to thrive.
There has also been concern about Greenwood not being included on the National Register of Historic Places. That designation would have enabled the district to have certain protections and some autonomy over its destiny, said Sherry Gamble-Smith, former executive director of Greenwood District Chamber of Commerce.
“If (original) Greenwood District was there, then you couldn’t build what you wanted to build. You couldn’t tear down things in that district,” Gamble-Smith said. “We’re the oldest district in Tulsa, and other districts, even some of the new ones, have been placed on the National Register, but not Greenwood.”
Commercial districts currently on the National Register are Blue Dome, Tulsa Arts, KATY Railroad, North Cheyenne, Oil Capital, Sixth Street, Tulsa Civic Center and Whittier Square, according to the Tulsa Preservation Commission website.
Attempts were made over the years to get Greenwood added to the National Register. However, the Oklahoma Historical Society and state and local preservation officials determined it would be difficult because nearly all the remaining buildings of historic significance were dismantled.
Thomas Boxley, chairman of the Greater Tulsa African-American Affairs Commission, points at another inflection point: several more rounds of urban renewal initiatives in the 1970s and 1980s that greatly affected Greenwood District’s economic prospects with the addition of Oklahoma State University-Tulsa and Langston University-Tulsa.
“That was really a turning point then,” said Boxley, who also mentioned that changing racial demographics and the city’s focus on revitalizing downtown into a tourist destination played a role in the district’s slow regression. “Development is cyclical. A lot of different dynamics and forces come into play. Greenwood has some work to do.”
Building a new Black Wall Street
Dwain Midget, director of the city’s Working in Neighborhoods department, explained that Black Wall Street — in its current state — will have a difficult time recapturing what it once was decades ago because of a lack of African American-controlled land.
“Black Wall Street is a concept. It will never be Greenwood of the 1920s, 1930s or 1940s,” Midget said. “For me as an African American, I’m looking for a new Black Wall Street. Where in my community can I resurrect a new Black Wall Street? Maybe Peoria (Avenue) from Archer (Street) all the way down to 66th Street North. There are black people who live there, and there is ample opportunity to build.
“Black Wall Street doesn’t have to be on Greenwood. If you think you’re going to reconstitute Black Wall Street on Greenwood, to me you’re not living in reality. It ain’t happening.”
He imagines that Black Wall Street could be repurposed as sort of a tourist attraction. Memorials dedicated to the race massacre along with a planned expansion of the Greenwood Cultural Center to educate the public on the district’s history are already in the works.
The greatest hurdle, though, for regaining any semblance of a Black Wall Street has been gaining access to enough financial capital and resources to get started. Tulsa City Councilor Vanessa Hall-Harper said that, historically, African Americans have had to work around discriminatory practices by lenders and financial institutions while applying for small business loans.
“African Americans have a harder time acquiring capital than other groups,” Hall-Harper said. “Lenders assume you can’t pay for it. They assume you don’t have the wherewithal to manage and operate businesses.”
Gary Hamer is the capital planning and grants manager for the city. He said the city of Tulsa has not funded any grants in the past five years for prospective black business owners to operate on Greenwood. Only one application has been filed during that time, he said, and it was later withdrawn for an unspecified reason.
Understanding the struggle many black Tulsans face generating business opportunities is why Hall-Harper, along with others, started the Black Wall Street Chamber of Commerce last October to cultivate black-centered entrepreneurship through its Power Group initiative. The goal is to raise money to rebuild Black Wall Street and the surrounding north Tulsa community.
“The funds will be used to buy back land based on the wants and needs of the community,” she said. “If we want better for our community, it is going to have to be done in the spirit of Black Wall Street through cooperative economics to help recruit and train the next crop of black business owners.”
Then there is The BlackupStart, a pop-up school based in the Washington, D.C., area that will host “Black Wall Street: Tulsa Edition.” It will host a business school, starting July 12, called to train individuals with business ideas who need direction. The George Kaiser Family Foundation and Tulsa Economic Development Corporation-backed program is a bootcamp designed to help interested black entrepreneurs acquire the tools to start a successful business.
The state of the Greenwood District and the limited economic opportunities for its black residents has even caught the attention of leaders within the Tulsa Regional Chamber.
Saying it recognizes the denial of economic prosperity to minority communities, the Tulsa Chamber declared it will soon explore how the configuration of Greenwood District in relation to the IDL has affected the area and possible ways to reimagine it.
“The northeast corner of the IDL cuts through the heart of historic Greenwood. It looms as a reminder that this neighborhood has experienced great trauma, and not only in 1921,” said Kuma Roberts, executive director of diversity, equity and inclusion for the Tulsa Regional Chamber. “We’ve met with the Oklahoma Department of Transportation, the city of Tulsa and other stakeholders. But there is a significant amount of work to be done before we even know what’s possible with that interchange.
“The most prosperous African American community in our nation was once located on (Greenwood Avenue). We should celebrate that. We should champion that. And we should see to it that the world knows Greenwood District as America’s Black Wall Street.”
Tulsa Race Massacre: This is what happened in 1921
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)
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…
Kendrick Marshall
Assistant Editor
I am a proud HBCU graduate who has done a little bit of everything at the Tulsa World to keep the public informed. Phone: 918-581-8378
