Once activated, the guardsmen concentrated their efforts on aiding the fire department in their renewed efforts to control the city’s fires. They also began to imprison any black Tulsans who had not yet been interned. The guards took imprisoned blacks out of the hands of the “special deputies” and other groups of whites. Barrett ordered Mayor Evans to revoke all of these special commissions, which Evans did, claiming that many of the men who held them were the mob leaders themselves.32
Throughout the day, many blacks were taken to the fairgrounds, as Convention Hall was full. Apparently some whites were also taken to this site, which was guarded by thirteen National Guardsmen. Whites were disarmed by guardsmen throughout the city, but were generally merely sent home. Sixty-five whites, however, were arrested by the troops, and a truckload of rifles was seized from one group of whites.33
Armed whites searching blacks.
Courtesy of the McFarlin Library, University of Tulsa
En route to an internment center. Tulsa physician A. C. Jackson, who had been named by the Mayo brothers as “the most able Negro surgeon in America,” was murdered on one such march.
Courtesy of the Metropolitan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
Whites collecting black prisoners
Courtesy of the Metropolltan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
As is the case with many aspects of the riot, there is some confusion over the use of airplanes. During the violence, police took over private airplanes and flew over the city. After the riot, planes were sent out to observe any unusual activity in virtually every substantial black community in northeastern Oklahoma, purportedly because many white Tulsans feared a black counterattack. There is other evidence, however, on the subject of airplanes. Mary E. Jones Parrish, a black Tulsan who experienced the riot, passionately described those early morning hours:
After watching the men unload on First Street where we could see them from our windows, we heard such a buzzing noise that on running to the door to get a better view of what was going on, the sights our eyes beheld made our poor hearts stand still for a moment. There was a great shadow in the sky and upon a second look we discerned that this cloud was caused by fast approaching enemy 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. The firing of guns was renewed in quick succession. People were seen to flee from their burning homes, some with babes in their arms and leading crying and excited children by the hand; others, old and feeble, all fleeing to safety. Yet, seemingly, I could not leave. I walked as one in a horrible dream. By this time my little girl was up and dressed, but I made her lie on the dufold in order that bullets must penetrate it before reaching her. By this time a machine gun had been installed in the granary and was raining bullets down on our section.
Parrish’s account only implies that planes may have attacked the area, but the Chicago Defender reported directly that black neighborhoods in Tulsa were bombed from the air by a private plane equipped with dynamite.34
After martial law was declared, violence generally ceased and some relief work began. The Tulsa race riot, one of the most devastating single incidents of racial violence in twentieth century America, was over within twenty-four hours of its inception. While most rioters returned to their homes, most of Tulsa’s black citizenry was imprisoned; over six thousand blacks were reported as being interned on the night of June 1. Others had fled the city. Upward of fifty people—both blacks and whites—were dead. Over one thousand homes and businesses—much of black Tulsa—lay in ruin, a smoldering monument to crushed dreams.35
At first, some blacks were taken downtown.
Courtesy of the McFarlin Library, University of Tulsa
Pride and defiance in the midst of catastrophe.
Courtesy of the McFarlin Library, University of Tulsa
Even the children were guarded.
Courtesy of the McFarlin Library, University of Tulsa
The internment process at Convention Hall. At least one black was killed here by whites.
Courtesy of the Metropolitan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
IV
The total number of people who died in the Tulsa race riot of 1921 is very much in question; estimates range from 27 to over 250. The estimates themselves fall into three major groups: the first counts around thirty deaths; the second, which is probably the most accurate, sets the figure at around seventy-five; the last places the number at one hundred and seventy-five and above.
Newspaper estimates were at first generally rather high, but took a plunge during the first week after the riot. The Tulsa Tribune of June 1,1921, gave two sets of figures. In a story on the riot, it reported that 9 whites and 68 blacks had died. But a bulletin in that same issue stated that some 175 people were known dead. The next day, the Tribune reported that it knew for sure of only 31 deaths: 9 whites and 22 blacks. The New York Times of June 2, 1921, reported that 9 whites and 68 blacks were known to have died in the riot. Six days later, the newspaper reported that only 33 people had been killed.36
Judging from the large number of people who were reported wounded and the steps which the authorities took in regard to them, it seems that the death toll was most likely toward the higher estimates. On the morning of June 1 the National Guard turned the armory into a makeshift hospital for wounded blacks. On that same day, Major Paul R. Brown was placed in charge of the medical and surgical situation in the city. Under his guidance, guardsmen took over a rooming house which had once been the Cinnabar Hospital, and reconverted it—with the aid of the Red Cross—into a hospital for seriously wounded black Tulsans. A house in North Tulsa was taken over for the walking wounded. The National Guard also took charge of six beds in the Oklahoma Hospital, and another six in the Tulsa Hospital, for black women.37
Red Cross records reflect a sizeable amount of physical suffering. Its records included the names of 48 whites who passed through hospitals after the riot. The director of Red Cross operations, Maurice Willows, however, believed the number to be higher. It has been suggested that many whites would not give their names when they were treated for wounds for fear of later being subjected to legal actions against them. Red Cross materials also revealed that 183 blacks were given surgical treatment within twenty-four hours after the riot, with over 70 percent of these people being hospitalized. The organization gave first aid treatment to some 531 persons, and during the first week after the riot, about twenty doctors (eleven of whom were black) performed some 163 operations, 82 of them classified as “major” operations.38
The black sick and wounded—those who were attended to—were initially taken to six private hospitals in addition to the newly reconverted Cinnabar Hospital. Shortly after the violence, four large hospital wards were constructed in the Booker T. Washington School— which had escaped destruction by the white rioters—and many black patients had been transferred there within two weeks.39
The Red Cross cared for some black patients until the end of September, 1921. Exactly how much service was rendered by the city’s private hospitals is somewhat unclear. On July 26, 1921, Dr. Fred S. Clinton of the Oklahoma Hospital filed a claim against the Tulsa Police Department in the sum of $3,900 for hospital, medical, and surgical service rendered to it ($3,381.10 was eventually paid). On September 23, 1921, the Tulsa County Commissioners communicated to the City Commission that it was prepared to turn over any hospital equipment which it had any interest in to the Frissel Hospital, apparently in response to riot services.40
Another complication in estimating the number of riot fatalities is a consequence of the action taken by Adjutant General Barrett on June 2,1921. Barrett banned all funerals from taking place in the city, citing as his reasons military policy, the emotional stress which still prevailed, and the fact that many churches, he claimed, were being used to shelter the homeless.41 If funerals were against the expressed policy of the military authorities, then what happened to the riot dead? How were they buried? The
re is some evidence regarding these issues, some of which is contradictory. In his magazine article on the riot, “The Eruption of Tulsa,” Walter White stated:
Victim.
Courtesy of the Metropolitan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
Metal bedsteads: ghostly sentinels of Tulsa's black residential neighborhoods.
Courtesy of the Metropolltan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
Victim. Walter White, of the NAACP, reported: “One story was told to me by an eyewitness of five colored men trapped in a burning house. Four were burned to death. A fifth attempted to flee, was shot to death as he emerged from the burning structure, and his body was thrown back into the flames.”
Courtesy of the Metropolltan Tulsa Chrmbef of Commerce
Smoldering dreams.
Courtesy of the Metropolitan Tulsa Chamber of Commerce
O. T. Johnson, Commandant of the Tulsa Citadel of the Salvation Army, stated that on Wednesday and Thursday, the Salvation Army fed thirty-seven Negroes employed as grave diggers, and twenty on Friday and Saturday. During the first two days these men dug 120 graves in each of which a dead Negro was buried. No coffins were used. The bodies were dumped into the holes and covered with dirt. Added to the number accounted for were numbers of others—men, women and children—who were incinerated in the burning houses in the Negro settlement. One story was told to me by an eye-witness of five colored men trapped in a burning house. Four burned to death. A fifth attempted to flee, was shot to death as he emerged from the burning structure, and his body was thrown back into the flames.42
Ross T. Warner and Henry Whitlow have stated that they saw corpses piled onto trucks which were driven away. Warner stated that he saw at least thirty dead blacks transported in that fashion. It has also been reported by some that dead bodies were dumped into the Arkansas River. Certain city officials and physicians, however, stated in the 1940s that “all those who were killed were given decent burials.”43
Furthermore, it should be noted that the estimates of official and semi-official groups of the riot fatalities do not necessarily agree. The estimate of the Department of Health’s Bureau of Vital Statistics was that 10 whites and 26 blacks had died in the violence. Estimates in Red Cross records—not necessarily its own estimate—on the other hand, ran as high as 300 deaths.44
Finally, it should be noted that not everyone has agreed that more blacks died in the race riot than whites. W. D. Williams has disputed this assumption, citing as evidence the large number of whites which he saw get shot by black snipers as they attempted to invade “Deep Greenwood.” The Oklahoma City Black Dispatch of June 10, 1921, reported that it had received a letter from “a prominent Negro in the city of Tulsa” who stated that “from what he could learn on the ground, about one hundred were killed, equally divided between the two races.”45
The amount of property lost due to the riot is likewise an elusive quantity. The most common estimate for the amount of real property lost was originally the estimate of the Tulsa Real Estate Exchange. It estimated the loss at about $1.5 million, one third of the total being in the (black) business district. The Exchange also estimated personal property loss at about $750,000. When considering these estimates, however, it is important to recall that the Exchange temporarily approved the designs of the City Commission and others to relocate part of Tulsa’s black community and to use that land for a new train station. Estimates in Red Cross records revealed that 1,115 residences had been destroyed during the riot, and that another 314 houses were looted but not burned. The Tulsa World reported that some 338 people suffered losses of real estate, 82 of whom were black.46
Another source of evidence for property loss are the claims which were filed against the City of Tulsa for losses due to the riot. The minutes of the Tulsa City Commission meetings from June 14,1921, to June 6,1922, reveal that in excess of $1.8 million in claims against the city were filed with—and subsequently disallowed by—the city commissioners.47 It has also been stated that by July 30, 1921, more than 1,400 law suits for losses upward of $4 million had been filed.48 The claims filed against the city ranged from under $25 to over $150,000. Emma Gurley, a black woman whose family owned the Gurley Hotel (the Gurley building), filed a claim for its loss in excess of $150,000. Loula T. Williams filed a claim for over $100,000 for the destruction of the Dreamland Theatre and the Williams building. R. G. Dunn and Company reportedly lost some $250,000 in goods. Other large losses included the newly constructed Mount Zion Baptist Church (reportedly built at a cost of $85,000), and the offices of both of Tulsa’s black newspapers, the Tulsa Star and the Oklahoma Sun.49
The results of the various surveys which were taken by the Red Cross are yet another source of information of the volume of property destruction. As ambiguous as the results were, they reported that one week after the riot, some 5,366 persons had been, to quote Loren L. Gill, “more or less seriously affected by the riot.”50
Chapter 4
Law, Order,
and the Politics
of Relief
I
The aftermath of the riot provides us with a valuable view of the interworkings of power, race relations, and racial ideologies in Tulsa. The various responses to the riot revealed both humanitarianism and greed, mutual aid and exploitation. “Relief” efforts were in some cases honest, while in many others were but a guise for further abuse. The characters were many.
The first problem faced by black Tulsans after the riot was a question of getting free. Roughly one-half of the city’s black population was forcibly interned under armed guards—at Convention Hall, in public buildings downtown, at the baseball park, and at the fairgrounds. James T. West, a teacher at the Booker T. Washington School, reported that “people were herded in like cattle” into the Convention Hall, and that “the sick and wounded were dumped in front of the building and remained without attention for hours.” At least one black man was shot in front of this large auditorium on Brady Street. Other blacks had a grand tour of imprisonment. Although he was interned at Convention Hall first, Jack Thomas was taken to a Catholic Church, then to the fairgrounds, and finally to a Methodist Church. By June 2, all black Tulsans who were interned—over 4,000—had been moved to the fairgrounds.1
There, they were held under armed sentries and “sheltered” in the cattle and hog pens. Food, clothing, and some bedding were given out on June 1 and 2. Apparently the physical condition of the prisoners generated concern among doctors, as vaccinations for smallpox, tetanus, and typhoid were administered to some 1,800 people at the camp during its first few days of existence. Black men did road repair work around the camp under the direction of the National Guard.2
At first, black Tulsans were allowed to leave the camp only if a white person would come and vouch for them, a system designed to allow only those blacks who were employed by whites to be released immediately. Generally, any white employer could secure the release of a black employee by identifying that person and promising that he or she would be kept “indoors or at the scene of their labor.” There were, of course, some exceptions. J. C. Latimer, a black architect and contractor who was interned, claimed that he did not know any whites since he was self-employed. He later stated that a white man lied to the authorities and claimed him as his brother-in-law to gain his release. A few black Tulsans such as Dr. R. T. Bridgewater, an assistant county physician whose home had been burned by whites, worked outside of the camp during the day and returned to it at night to sleep for at least a short period. Most of the imprisoned citizens, once they secured their release, left for good. The 4,000 plus of June 2 dwindled to 450 by June 7. Eight days later, the fairgrounds were empty.3
In addition to the internment camps, black Tulsans faced other restrictions. While on the streets, they were required to wear or carry a green card with the words “Police Protection” printed on one side, and various other data recorded on the other, including the person’s name, address, and employer. It has been reported that “any black found on the street wit
hout a green card properly filled out was arrested and sent back to the detention camp.” Black Tulsans had to carry these cards, which had been paid for by the City Commission and the Chamber of Commerce, until July 7.4
Blacks were not allowed to purchase or possess firearms for a period of several weeks. On June 6 an order was issued which prohibited the use of servants’ quarters in white districts by blacks “other than those employed regularly on the premises” prior to the riot. Theodore Baugham, black editor of the Oklahoma Sun, “succeeded in getting out a little daily paper,” which included lists of people trying to locate their loved ones. However, it is highly doubtful that Baugham was in complete control of the editorial policy of this paper. The June 7 report of the Chamber of Commerce’s Executive Welfare Committee reported that “a negro publication resumed to quiet the negroes,” and Chamber records showed a receipt for a bill to pay for a paper which was “used as a medium to keep the negroes in form [sic] during the few days immediately following the riot.” Baugham’s Oklahoma Sun and A. J. Smitherman’s Tulsa Star—both of whose offices were destroyed by the white rioters—were blamed by whites for causing the riot.5
Death in a Promised Land Page 7
