Lynne's Lens
My great-grandfather, Clark
This is a photo of my great-grandfather, Clark, taken in the 1920's, I think.
This information comes from stories Clark and his wife, Bess, told their two oldest grandchildren, Susan (my mom) and Bill. I haven't been able to verify the facts of the story, but Clark and Bess did live in the Tulsa area during the time of the Tulsa Race Riot. Also substantiating the story is the fact that Clark worked for the railroad as a station agent and manager, which would have put him in the perfect place to see much of the rioting action May 31 - June 1 of 1921. The railroad track divided the white section of town from the area (Greenwood) that was completely devastated by the riots and where many African-Americans lived and did business. I also tend to believe this story because I've been able to verify many other tales Clark and Bess told their grandchildren and because I've been hearing about this story all my life -- long before the facts of the Tulsa riot were revisited in the 90's.
Clark and Bess met and married in Sapulpa, OK, in 1919, where they both worked for the Frisco Railroad Company, he as a station agent and she as an office worker. The following year, the newlyweds moved to the booming town of Tulsa. Indeed, Post-WWI Tulsa was quite a step up from the sleepy town of Sapulpa; thanks to the discovery of oil, Tulsa's population grew from 10,000 in 1910 to an astonishing 100,000 just 10 years later. There were dozens of theaters in the bustling downtown and outlying areas, all kinds of interesting shops and high-rise buildings, and shiny, new neighborhoods boasting all of the most modern amenities popping up all over town.
After years of sacrifice and facing the horrors of war, the dawn of the 20's was a busy time of hope and excitement for the future, but it was also a time of great change in almost every facet of life, from technology to music to fashion to politics. While a lot of people embraced the new, freer America, many people didn't like the change they were seeing on a daily basis and longed for a return to a more moral, pre-war society. I don't know where Clark and Bess' feelings on the morals of the day rested, but they seemed to embrace the opportunities living in a larger city provided and were happy to be living in Tulsa.
Clark worked for the Frisco Railroad, whose tracks provided the southern border to Greenwood, an African-American community whose great success and prosperity mirrored that of Tulsa itself. Over 10,000 people lived in the Greenwood area, which boasted street after street of handsome brick office buildings, stores, and theaters, along with well-appointed, bungalow-style homes and manicured lawns. At the time, the area was called the "Negro Wall Street," and it boasted an impressive array of doctors, lawyers, financiers, developers, shop keepers, educators, clergy, etc., as its leading citizens.
Monday, May 30th was Memorial Day, and that morning, there was a big parade downtown, which may explain why Sarah Page, an elevator operator at the Drexel Building, and African-American shoe shine boy, Dick Rowland, were working that day. Perhaps Dick was delivering a newly-shined pair of shoes to an executive on an upper floor of the building when he stepped onto Sarah's elevator and, some speculate, tripped as he entered and grabbed Sarah's arm to keep from falling. Shocked, she let out a scream, and, equally shocked by what he had done, Dick fled the elevator and exited the building. A clerk at the Renberg Department Store (on the first floor of the Drexel Building) heard Sarah's scream, saw Dick leave, and automatically assumed he had tried to rape her. The clerk called the police, who arrived at the scene shortly thereafter and took Sarah's statement. Not surprisingly in light of the events of that terrifying weekend, Sarah's statement has been lost to history, but Dick was arrested the next morning.
In its sensationalized, yellow journalism, fear-spreading attempt to increase circulation, the local paper, the Tulsa Tribune, ran an article that day stating that Dick Rowland would be lynched later that night. Reading this, many of Greenwood's citizens, dozens of whom who had bravely fought in WWI and still maintained their military-issue arms, decided to meet at the courthouse to protect Dick from Tulsa's angry citizens. They arrived that afternoon and were assured by the Sheriff that Dick would be safe, so they left, but after they heard of the huge crowd of whites (over 2,000 of them) amassing at the courthouse, they returned. During the ensuing melee, shots were fired, causing armed blacks and whites alike to shoot wildly into the crowd. Within a few seconds, dead and injured of both races littered the ground, and the rioting began.
Over the next two days, blacks in Greenwood were shot, beaten, hung, mutilated, set afire, and whipped, and almost every building in the area was set ablaze. Since he worked right in the center of all of the horror, I can only image the awful things that Clark must have witnessed during the riot. Normally a very calm and quiet man, the violence of such horrific scenes as open-air planes of the day strafing blacks fleeing for safety and carloads of armed whites entering the area as if going to a slaughter party was just too much for him to bare. He, along with hundreds of whites who were appalled by the actions of their neighbors, began evacuating as many blacks as they could and gathering them at the newly-built McNulty Baseball Park at 10th and Elgin. I've heard stories from other sources that many of the African-Americans held in these hastily-established detention centers were taken there at gunpoint and held against their will, which, I'm sure is the case. From what Clark told my mom and uncle, his motivation to get victims to the baseball park was to save these poor people from further harm.
After two days of battling on both sides, Greenwood was a heap of destroyed and smoldering buildings, and many of its citizens were either dead or in area hospitals, in jail, in the detention centers, or on their way out of town. About 1,200 houses and businesses were destroyed and thousands were homeless, and Greenwood was never rebuilt. To add to the disgrace of this horrific event in Oklahoma's history, not one person was ever prosecuted for what happened; in fact, after a few months, it seemed that the city had successfully erased the event from of its collective memory. It wasn't mentioned in history books or literature of the day, the dead on both sides were never memorialized, and survivors tried to move on as best as they could. It wasn't until the 1990s that the riot resurfaced in the collective consciousness of Oklahomans when a commission was established to study the riot and determine how to compensate the few remaining survivors of that long-ago Memorial Day week.
However, in my family, we have always known all about the Tulsa Race Riot and the role that Clark played in helping to save dozens, if not hundreds, of lives.
Perhaps not surprisingly, after the riot, the presence and popularity of the Ku Klux Klan grew considerably in Oklahoma. There were candlelit, nighttime parades through downtown streets that my grandmother (Clark and Bess' daughter, Jean) recalls from her very earliest memory. She also remembers being absolutely terrified of the hooded and robed beasts that proudly walked the streets, spewing their racist venom to all who would listen. In 1922 and 1923, KKK members began the practice of having whipping parties, where they would gather and visit the home of an enemy (usually someone who opposed their practices), remove them from their home and collectively whip them into submission. Dozens, if not hundreds, of these events were reported, and, interestingly, most of the victims were white Protestants, not Catholics, Jews, or African-Americans like you might suspect.
It was during this time, I believe, that Clark, Bess, and Jean may have become victims of KKK violence. Apparently, there was some kind of KKK rally, and Clark recognized one of the hooded men as someone he knew. He walked up to the man and said, "Joe, I know it's you under there. Don't hide behind that mask." He pulled off Joe's mask, humiliating the KKKer. Soon after, one quiet night, Clark, Bess, and young Jean awoke to shots being fired through their bedroom windows and angry voices on their front lawn. After they heard the men leave, they tentatively tip-toed to the window and found a cross burning on their lawn. Fearing more reprisals, the family packed up all of their belongings and moved the next day. Even in her old age, my grandmother, who was only a couple of years old at the time, shuddered at the memory of that huge cross in her yard and all of the hatred it symbolized.
I'm not sure if the family stayed in the Tulsa area after this incident or if they moved back to Sapulpa (need to do more research to find out), but I know that, by 1932, they were living more peaceful lives in Oklahoma City, where Clark worked for various trucking companies and Bess and Jean doted on him until he died of cancer in 1953.
As for the KKK, by the end of 1922, the organization had a formidable opponent in the newly-elected governor, Jack Walton. He rightly believed that many of Oklahoma's communities were run by the secret society, and he wanted to put a stop to their terror tactics. He declared martial law in several counties, and later in the state as a whole, to keep the KKK from controlling various governments. He also made it illegal to wear masks in public (unless part of a costume). Although Walton was impeached for illegally imposing martial law, among other things, his action succeeded in stifling the KKK's power, and within a few years, membership had dropped considerably.
For more information about the Tulsa riot, go here:
www.tulsareparations.org/TulsaRiot.htm
For photos of the riot, go here:
www.lib.utulsa.edu/speccoll/collections/RaceRiot/indexpho...
For a brief history of the KKK in Oklahoma, go here:
digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/K/KU001....
For more about Jack Walton, go here:
digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/W/WA014....
My great-grandfather, Clark
This is a photo of my great-grandfather, Clark, taken in the 1920's, I think.
This information comes from stories Clark and his wife, Bess, told their two oldest grandchildren, Susan (my mom) and Bill. I haven't been able to verify the facts of the story, but Clark and Bess did live in the Tulsa area during the time of the Tulsa Race Riot. Also substantiating the story is the fact that Clark worked for the railroad as a station agent and manager, which would have put him in the perfect place to see much of the rioting action May 31 - June 1 of 1921. The railroad track divided the white section of town from the area (Greenwood) that was completely devastated by the riots and where many African-Americans lived and did business. I also tend to believe this story because I've been able to verify many other tales Clark and Bess told their grandchildren and because I've been hearing about this story all my life -- long before the facts of the Tulsa riot were revisited in the 90's.
Clark and Bess met and married in Sapulpa, OK, in 1919, where they both worked for the Frisco Railroad Company, he as a station agent and she as an office worker. The following year, the newlyweds moved to the booming town of Tulsa. Indeed, Post-WWI Tulsa was quite a step up from the sleepy town of Sapulpa; thanks to the discovery of oil, Tulsa's population grew from 10,000 in 1910 to an astonishing 100,000 just 10 years later. There were dozens of theaters in the bustling downtown and outlying areas, all kinds of interesting shops and high-rise buildings, and shiny, new neighborhoods boasting all of the most modern amenities popping up all over town.
After years of sacrifice and facing the horrors of war, the dawn of the 20's was a busy time of hope and excitement for the future, but it was also a time of great change in almost every facet of life, from technology to music to fashion to politics. While a lot of people embraced the new, freer America, many people didn't like the change they were seeing on a daily basis and longed for a return to a more moral, pre-war society. I don't know where Clark and Bess' feelings on the morals of the day rested, but they seemed to embrace the opportunities living in a larger city provided and were happy to be living in Tulsa.
Clark worked for the Frisco Railroad, whose tracks provided the southern border to Greenwood, an African-American community whose great success and prosperity mirrored that of Tulsa itself. Over 10,000 people lived in the Greenwood area, which boasted street after street of handsome brick office buildings, stores, and theaters, along with well-appointed, bungalow-style homes and manicured lawns. At the time, the area was called the "Negro Wall Street," and it boasted an impressive array of doctors, lawyers, financiers, developers, shop keepers, educators, clergy, etc., as its leading citizens.
Monday, May 30th was Memorial Day, and that morning, there was a big parade downtown, which may explain why Sarah Page, an elevator operator at the Drexel Building, and African-American shoe shine boy, Dick Rowland, were working that day. Perhaps Dick was delivering a newly-shined pair of shoes to an executive on an upper floor of the building when he stepped onto Sarah's elevator and, some speculate, tripped as he entered and grabbed Sarah's arm to keep from falling. Shocked, she let out a scream, and, equally shocked by what he had done, Dick fled the elevator and exited the building. A clerk at the Renberg Department Store (on the first floor of the Drexel Building) heard Sarah's scream, saw Dick leave, and automatically assumed he had tried to rape her. The clerk called the police, who arrived at the scene shortly thereafter and took Sarah's statement. Not surprisingly in light of the events of that terrifying weekend, Sarah's statement has been lost to history, but Dick was arrested the next morning.
In its sensationalized, yellow journalism, fear-spreading attempt to increase circulation, the local paper, the Tulsa Tribune, ran an article that day stating that Dick Rowland would be lynched later that night. Reading this, many of Greenwood's citizens, dozens of whom who had bravely fought in WWI and still maintained their military-issue arms, decided to meet at the courthouse to protect Dick from Tulsa's angry citizens. They arrived that afternoon and were assured by the Sheriff that Dick would be safe, so they left, but after they heard of the huge crowd of whites (over 2,000 of them) amassing at the courthouse, they returned. During the ensuing melee, shots were fired, causing armed blacks and whites alike to shoot wildly into the crowd. Within a few seconds, dead and injured of both races littered the ground, and the rioting began.
Over the next two days, blacks in Greenwood were shot, beaten, hung, mutilated, set afire, and whipped, and almost every building in the area was set ablaze. Since he worked right in the center of all of the horror, I can only image the awful things that Clark must have witnessed during the riot. Normally a very calm and quiet man, the violence of such horrific scenes as open-air planes of the day strafing blacks fleeing for safety and carloads of armed whites entering the area as if going to a slaughter party was just too much for him to bare. He, along with hundreds of whites who were appalled by the actions of their neighbors, began evacuating as many blacks as they could and gathering them at the newly-built McNulty Baseball Park at 10th and Elgin. I've heard stories from other sources that many of the African-Americans held in these hastily-established detention centers were taken there at gunpoint and held against their will, which, I'm sure is the case. From what Clark told my mom and uncle, his motivation to get victims to the baseball park was to save these poor people from further harm.
After two days of battling on both sides, Greenwood was a heap of destroyed and smoldering buildings, and many of its citizens were either dead or in area hospitals, in jail, in the detention centers, or on their way out of town. About 1,200 houses and businesses were destroyed and thousands were homeless, and Greenwood was never rebuilt. To add to the disgrace of this horrific event in Oklahoma's history, not one person was ever prosecuted for what happened; in fact, after a few months, it seemed that the city had successfully erased the event from of its collective memory. It wasn't mentioned in history books or literature of the day, the dead on both sides were never memorialized, and survivors tried to move on as best as they could. It wasn't until the 1990s that the riot resurfaced in the collective consciousness of Oklahomans when a commission was established to study the riot and determine how to compensate the few remaining survivors of that long-ago Memorial Day week.
However, in my family, we have always known all about the Tulsa Race Riot and the role that Clark played in helping to save dozens, if not hundreds, of lives.
Perhaps not surprisingly, after the riot, the presence and popularity of the Ku Klux Klan grew considerably in Oklahoma. There were candlelit, nighttime parades through downtown streets that my grandmother (Clark and Bess' daughter, Jean) recalls from her very earliest memory. She also remembers being absolutely terrified of the hooded and robed beasts that proudly walked the streets, spewing their racist venom to all who would listen. In 1922 and 1923, KKK members began the practice of having whipping parties, where they would gather and visit the home of an enemy (usually someone who opposed their practices), remove them from their home and collectively whip them into submission. Dozens, if not hundreds, of these events were reported, and, interestingly, most of the victims were white Protestants, not Catholics, Jews, or African-Americans like you might suspect.
It was during this time, I believe, that Clark, Bess, and Jean may have become victims of KKK violence. Apparently, there was some kind of KKK rally, and Clark recognized one of the hooded men as someone he knew. He walked up to the man and said, "Joe, I know it's you under there. Don't hide behind that mask." He pulled off Joe's mask, humiliating the KKKer. Soon after, one quiet night, Clark, Bess, and young Jean awoke to shots being fired through their bedroom windows and angry voices on their front lawn. After they heard the men leave, they tentatively tip-toed to the window and found a cross burning on their lawn. Fearing more reprisals, the family packed up all of their belongings and moved the next day. Even in her old age, my grandmother, who was only a couple of years old at the time, shuddered at the memory of that huge cross in her yard and all of the hatred it symbolized.
I'm not sure if the family stayed in the Tulsa area after this incident or if they moved back to Sapulpa (need to do more research to find out), but I know that, by 1932, they were living more peaceful lives in Oklahoma City, where Clark worked for various trucking companies and Bess and Jean doted on him until he died of cancer in 1953.
As for the KKK, by the end of 1922, the organization had a formidable opponent in the newly-elected governor, Jack Walton. He rightly believed that many of Oklahoma's communities were run by the secret society, and he wanted to put a stop to their terror tactics. He declared martial law in several counties, and later in the state as a whole, to keep the KKK from controlling various governments. He also made it illegal to wear masks in public (unless part of a costume). Although Walton was impeached for illegally imposing martial law, among other things, his action succeeded in stifling the KKK's power, and within a few years, membership had dropped considerably.
For more information about the Tulsa riot, go here:
www.tulsareparations.org/TulsaRiot.htm
For photos of the riot, go here:
www.lib.utulsa.edu/speccoll/collections/RaceRiot/indexpho...
For a brief history of the KKK in Oklahoma, go here:
digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/K/KU001....
For more about Jack Walton, go here:
digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/W/WA014....