Tulsa History Category

This Saturday, September 21, 2024, at noon, I will be a guest on Tulsa Beacon Weekend, hosted by Jeff Brucculeri. The hour-long interview program is heard in Tulsa on KCFO AM 970, live-streamed online here and on the KCFO app. The show is a production of the Tulsa Beacon, the weekly newspaper founded in 2001 by the late Charley Biggs.

My interview is the second half of the program. Jeff and I discussed the recent City of Tulsa election and Oklahoma primary, the mayoral recount and November runoff, and my recent entry about Tulsa municipal boundaries and fence lines.

The most recent episode is available to listen again for one week through the KCFO app and through the website: From the Listen Live popup, choose Menu, then the microphone icon, then choose Tulsa Beacon Weekend; Joe Riddle's Old Time Radio Theater is also available.

UPDATE: Here's a direct link to the audio file, which will be available through Friday, September 27. The first half of the program is an interview with former HGTV host David Benham, co-author with his brother Jason Benham of Miracle in Shreveport.

Since the City of Tulsa primary on August 27, I've received some questions from puzzled readers about city limits and jurisdictions.

One reader wanted to know why there were four Rogers County precincts listed in the City of Tulsa election results, but no votes were cast.

A friend who lives in Turley was ready to vote in the mayoral election, but his precinct didn't open at all on August 27. He has Tulsa water, a Tulsa address, and pays property taxes to Tulsa Public Schools, Tulsa County, Tulsa City-County Library, Tulsa City-County Health Department, and Tulsa Community College. He asks: Who takes care of Turley?

Another reader wanted to know how Vanessa Hall-Harper and Angela K. Chambers could run for Tulsa City Council District 1 when both are registered to vote in Osage County.

The big-picture answer is that, in Oklahoma, county boundaries, municipal boundaries, school district boundaries are completely independent of one another. Boundaries of state house, state senate, and congressional districts also are independent of any other political subdivision.

This is strange and confusing if you've come from some other part of the country or world. In Massachusetts, every square inch of territory is within a city or town, and there is no such thing as unincorporated land. By default, every municipality runs its own school system, but smaller municipalities can band together to form regional school districts for all grades or for secondary grades. Regardless, everyone who lives in a given municipality is part of the same public school system. Every Massachusetts municipality is entirely within one of the Commonwealth's 14 counties. When the City of Boston annexed the towns of Roxbury, West Roxbury, and Dorchester in the late 19th century, those areas changed counties, too, leaving Norfolk County for Suffolk County, and isolating Brookline as a no-longer-contiguous part of Norfolk County.

In Minnesota, there are exactly twice as many state representatives as state senators, and each state senate district is divided into exactly two state house districts. Senate District 1 is comprised of House District 1A and House District 1B. Outside of the metro areas, legislative district boundaries follow township and town boundaries. But school district boundaries are independent of township and town boundaries.

Plenty of Tulsans live in the Jenks, Bixby, or Union school districts. The fastest growing part of east Tulsa is the area within the Broken Arrow school district, southeast of 31st Street and 145th East Avenue. Only Berryhill, Union, and Glenpool school districts lie entirely inside Tulsa County -- every other school district has at least some territory in at least one other county. Although school districts typically share a name with their city or town, they don't share boundaries or governing bodies. Union and Berryhill don't even have a corresponding municipality, although Berryhill may change that.

Oklahoma school districts don't even have to be contiguous: Cherokee County is a crazy-quilt. Tahlequah has two major non-contiguous sections, plus small exclaves locally situate in three rural districts -- presumably individual farms that preferred Tahlequah schools to the local offering. Grandview and Peggs districts each have exclaves that are enclaves to the other. Closer to home, Sand Springs has two separate sections, one in Tulsa County and one in Osage County, separated by Anderson, an Osage County K-8 district that sends its students to Charles Page High School.

According to the Tulsa County Treasurer's website, there are 46 possible combinations of school district and municipality (or no municipality) in the county, each with a unique property tax rate. City of Bixby property owners in the Bixby school district are hardest hit, at 139.90 mills, while property owners in the Keystone school district pay only 92.10 mills, whether they live in the City of Mannford or in an unincorporated area. Bixby has the highest municipal property tax rate by far at 21.83 mills, while five municipalities (Collinsville, Glenpool, Owasso, Skiatook, Sperry) have no property tax at all because they have no general obligation bonds. The City of Tulsa overlaps with Tulsa, Union, Jenks, Bixby, Broken Arrow, Owasso, Berryhill, and Catoosa school districts.

Adding to the confusion: A municipality can annex skinny strips of land known as fence lines to protect unincorporated territory for future expansion by itself and against it being grabbed by a rival city. In the meantime, the city doesn't have to provide services to the surrounded land and the property owners aren't subject to city ordinances or taxes. Tulsa has a fence line that encompasses land between Red Fork and the Gilcrease Turnpike, some land in Osage County, Turley, the Cherokee Industrial Park, a corridor around US 75 south of 126th Street North, and the Tulsa Port of Catoosa. State law allows a city to annex any land it surrounds on three sides or more without the consent of the landowners.

Screenshot from INCOG Tulsa area municipal boundaries interactive map showing Tulsa's northern fence line, outlined in cyan, adopted in 1973 with some adjustments since. The fence line is continuous; the visible discontinuities are an artifact of the map rendering software.

When our family moved to the Tulsa area in 1969, we bought a house in Rolling Hills, a geographically confusing place where we had a Tulsa address, paid the City of Tulsa for water, went to Catoosa schools, had a Catoosa phone number, but we were (at that time) in unincorporated Wagoner County. We had no police protection, the sheriff was an hour's drive away, there was a volunteer fire department, and roads were "maintained" by our Wagoner County Commissioner. There were a couple of failed annexation attempts in the 1970s. We moved a mile west into the City of Tulsa in 1978. Rolling Hills was annexed by Catoosa in 1997. (An extended reminiscence about Rolling Hills when it was "No Man's Land" will appear in a separate article.)

Screenshot from INCOG Tulsa area municipal boundaries interactive map showing the junction of I-44, US 412, and OK 66. Tulsa is green, Catoosa is blue, Fair Oaks is purple. Rolling Hills is the southernmost blue area, surrounded by green to the west, south, and east.

All that to say, I appreciate the confusion that people may feel. To address the specific situations my readers raised:

District 1 and Osage County: The City of Tulsa was entirely located in Tulsa County until 1959, when the city annexed several near-downtown subdivisions in Osage County, along with the Tulsa Country Club. A new master-planned community, Gilcrease Hills, opened in 1971. Tulsa annexed a fence-line around the development in 1973, protecting Gilcrease Hills against annexation by Sand Springs, and then annexed the development itself in 1978. Both the incumbent and the challenger for the District 1 Council seat live in Gilcrease Hills. From 1973-1991, Gilcrease Hills had its own K-8 school district, Academy Central. 3,619 City of Tulsa voters live in Osage County, 73% of them Democrats. 1,167 voted in the mayor's race, 794 for Nichols, 291 for Keith, 66 for VanNorman, 16 for other candidates.

Rogers County: Tulsa's 1973 fence line annexation also looped around the Port of Catoosa and 26 square miles, but was reduced in extent in January 1974, to appease Rogers County officials. For the last 50 years, Tulsa has had a 70'-wide fence line that extends into Rogers County along the south side of 66th Street North, around the Port of Catoosa (owned by a joint City of Tulsa and Rogers County authority), then along State Highway 266 back to the Tulsa County line at 145th East Avenue. While the fence line encompasses 10 square miles, no one lives in the 70-foot strip itself, so there are no eligible Tulsa voters in Rogers County. Nevertheless, the Rogers County Election Board opened and staffed the four precincts through which the fence line runs -- 660020, 660021, 660120, 660200 -- even though there were no eligible voters for any elections in those precincts. Thus, the zero vote results in the mayor's race and the District 3 Council race.

Screenshot from INCOG Tulsa area municipal boundaries interactive map showing Tulsa's fence line (green, outlined in cyan) surrounding the Port of Catoosa. Owasso is yellow, Verdigris is orange, Catoosa is blue. Note that Stone Canyon development is unincorporated but partly within Tulsa's fence line, partly within Owasso's, and partly within neither.

News reports from 1973 and 1974 indicate that the fence line was continuous, but modern maps are confusing. The INCOG interactive map shows a continuous fence line, but as a separate object from the rest of Tulsa, which is different from the way other area cities are depicted. The City of Tulsa's interactive council district map shows the Gilcrease Turnpike fence line near Berryhill, but not the northern fence line; ditto for the OU Center for Spatial Analysis data set. The City of Tulsa redistricting commission's proposed district map from 2021 showed the northern fence line, but with a gap along the southern and southwestern sides of the Port property. Google Maps shows the fence line reaching the Port property but stopping there. Rogers County GIS map shows a continuous fence line.

Wagoner County: On November 8, 2001, the City of Tulsa annexed 13 square miles of land in a fourth county, Wagoner County, most of it formerly in the sparsely populated town of Fair Oaks. There are 22 registered voters in the Wagoner County portion of Tulsa; 7 of them voted in the mayoral election -- 4 for VanNorman, 2 for Keith, 1 for Nichols.

Tulsa metro inset from 1974 Oklahoma state highway map, showing municipal boundaries, including part of Fair Oaks in Wagoner and Rogers Counties. Broken Arrow and Sand Springs fence lines are marked and labeled, but not Tulsa's.

Screenshot from INCOG Tulsa area municipal boundaries interactive map showing Tulsa's Wagoner County area, in green, with the remnant of Fair Oaks in purple.

Turley: A company incorporated in 1906 to develop Turley, and Turley townsite's plat was filed in 1910, but it doesn't appear that the town ever incorporated as a municipality. It was four or five miles away from Tulsa's northern border at the time of its founding. New subdivisions nearby were annexed by Tulsa in the 1950s, and Turley was considered for annexation, but a sanitary sewer bond issue complicated the process. The City of Tulsa would had to have assumed the sewer debt, but would not have been allowed to charge Turley residents more for water and sewer than other Tulsa residents. So despite Tulsa street names and Tulsa water and Tulsa public schools, despite being surrounded by the Tulsa fence line, Turley remains an unincorporated community with the Tulsa County sheriff handling law enforcement, the District 1 County Commissioner responsible for roads, and a volunteer fire department. Turley community is in precincts 720026 and 720326, neither of which has any voters in Tulsa. It's puzzling that the precincts didn't open anyway, because of the fence line, while the similarly situated Rogers County precincts did open.

Screenshot from INCOG Tulsa area municipal boundaries interactive map showing Turley, O'Brien Park, and surrounding areas. Note that Suburban Acres and Northgate are within Tulsa's city limits (green), but not Turley or any other neighborhood north of 56th Street North. Tulsa's fence line is green outlined in cyan.

A 1977 state law prevents new municipal incorporations within five miles of large cities (over 200,000) or three miles from small cities and towns, but it was amended in 2004, 2006, and 2007 to allow incorporation of territory "that has historically been identified as a community of people residing in compact form." Berryhill may incorporate under these terms, despite being sandwiched between Tulsa and Sand Springs, and it appears that Turley could as well.

Sen. Jim Inhofe, former Tulsa Mayor, congressman, and Oklahoma's longest serving US Senator, died Tuesday, July 9, 2024, after suffering a stroke on July 4. He was 89.

Some moving tributes have been published. The obituary on the Stanley's Funeral Home website speaks of Inhofe's devotion to his family, his love of flying, and his many years of work in and advocacy for African nations. The morning of July 4:

While Jim's accomplishments in Oklahoma, our country, and across the world speak for themselves, his favorite role was that of being Pop-I: husband of Mom-I, father to their four kids, and grandfather to twelve whom he loved beyond measure. Time spent with his grandkids focused solely on teaching, loving, and serving them. His countless acts to serve each of them were always followed with "That is what Pop-Is are for," a testament to the life he led. Our Pop-I loved cooking breakfast for everyone at the lake, teaching the kids to fish in the bay in South Texas and at the dock at Grand Lake, rides in the tractor and the Boston Whaler, bringing them on long morning walks, the Sunset Club, porpoise patrols, ice cream for breakfast, grandkids' sporting events, guitar playing throughout the year and guitar carols at Christmas, at the hangar watching planes take off and land, High Noon, chopping trees and splitting logs, and Pop-I's food traditions throughout. The morning of July 4, the day of his stroke, he read Day 186 of Bill Bright's Promises, walked Mutt, cooked breakfast for Mom-I, called his daughters and son, set up an umbrella at the dock for grandkids, visited with longtime neighbors, worked on several outdoor projects with his son Jimmy, and more. Indeed, for 89 years, he never stopped moving. In fact, we realize now that he was old for the first time during his last 4 ½ days. He instilled a love for Jesus, family, friends, and hard work in his family. He never asked anyone to do anything he would not do. He saw the best in people and always reminded us that you never know what someone else is going through. He cared about others more than himself and the world is a better place because of the love that he showed to everyone he met for more than 89 years.

The Petroleum Alliance of Oklahoma wrote:

Our hearts are heavy as we mourn the loss of Senator Jim Inhofe. A lifelong supporter of Oklahoma's oil and natural gas industry, Senator Inhofe worked tirelessly to improve America's energy security and national defense.

Petroleum Alliance President Brook A. Simmons reminisced on one of his favorite memories: "When climate activists printed wanted posters featuring his image for COP 21 in Paris, Senator Inhofe proudly autographed them and handed them back to protestors."

He embraced the detractors and wore their scorn as a badge of honor! America truly needs more like him.

The legacy mainstream media made sure to refer to him as a "climate denier" in their obituary headlines.

For my tribute, I thought it would be interesting to look back to his early years before politics and his first election efforts.

For the first half of the 1960s, you'd be more likely to see society-page mentions of Mrs. James Inhofe, nee Kay Kirkpatrick, than her news-page mentions of her husband. In the run up to their December 1959 wedding, there were numerous stories of receptions and showers for Inhofe's "widely feted bride-elect," the "center of a pre-nuptial social whirl." The engagement announcement mentions that she was the grandchild of pioneer Tulsans (Mr. & Mrs. J. N. Kirkpatrick and Mr. & Mrs. Linden Wallace Crosbie), that both graduated from Central High School and both started college at University of Colorado but finished in Oklahoma (she at OSU in mathematics, he at TU in economics). Kay was teaching at Edison High School, while Jim was working with his father at Mid-Continent Casualty Co. The two of them both grew up in the Bren-Rose neighborhood; a few years after they were married, they moved to the address in that same neighborhood where they spent the rest of their lives together. The wedding also got an elaborate write-up in the newspaper.

In 1966, Jim Inhofe filed to run against incumbent Republican state representative Warren Green. Green, who owned an auto repair service in Brookside and was president of Southtulsans Inc., a suburban chamber of commerce, was the first elected to represent House District 71, after the federal-court-ordered redistricting of 1964. It was a close race, but Green won, defeating Inhofe 1,396 to 1,162.

(Green was a primary target many years later. Running for re-election as District 35 State Senator in 1988, Green finished third of three in the GOP primary, which was won by attorney Don Rubottom. Green served 12 years in the State House and 12 years in the State Senate.)

Later in 1966, Inhofe shows up as Tulsa County chairman and campaign coordinator for J. Robert Wootten, GOP nominee for Lt. Governor.

Jim Inhofe got a second chance in 1966: District 39 State Sen. Dewey Bartlett was elected governor, the second Republican in state history, succeeding the first, Henry Bellmon, who was limited to a single term. Bartlett resigned his State Senate seat, triggering a special election. District 70 State Rep. Joe McGraw resigned his seat to run for Bartlett's State Senate seat, and Jim Inhofe filed to succeed McGraw. (This article states that Inhofe ran for Bartlett's seat in 1964, but reports from 1964 show Bartlett unopposed for the Republican nomination that year.) A pre-primary endorsement ad featured well over a hundred names, many of them prominent.

Inhofe won the special primary, receiving 668 votes to attorney Richard Hancock's 544 votes, and 10 votes for J. C. Gibson.

A reader posed a question to the Tulsa World's Action Line: How could Jim Inhofe run in two different districts without moving? The answer: You don't have to live in the district to run, but you have to live in the district if elected.

Ads in the run-up to the special general election featured Inhofe with Gov.-elect Bartlett and Joe McGraw. "Back Bartlett! Vote Republican Tuesday, December 20." Inhofe defeated Democrat Patricia Anderson by 1,917 votes to 440, and McGraw also won handily. Just 9 days later, Inhofe took the oath of office as an elected official for the first time.

Vanity license plates was the topic of one of Inhofe's first legislative proposals to receive press attention. A $10 additional annual fee would be collected, of which $9.50 would go into the state's general fund.

FROM THE BATESLINE ARCHIVES:

Ten years ago, Sen. Inhofe eulogized long-time Republican activist Art Rubin, who persuaded him to run for office:

Art never asked you to do anything. He told you. So we sat down on these little round stools that they had at the Beacon Grill, and he says, "I want you to run for the vacancy that's been created because Dewey Bartlett's now the governor." And I said, "Art, I'm not going to do it.... First of all, I've got all these kids at home," and Art said, "It's a part-time job." And he's right, it was. And I said, "I don't have any organization," and he said, "You need an organizer." And he looked up, and there was a lady walking across the Beacon Grill, her name was Millie Thompson.... he said, "Millie, come over here. I want you to head up the 'Volunteers for Inhofe' -- he's going to run for the state legislature."

Now I know that there are people -- 'cause I'm kind of extreme and you know that -- there are people in here who don't like me. You won't raise your hand, you won't acknowledge it now, but I know you don't. So -- but if you don't like me, don't blame me, blame Art.

POLITICAL CONTEXT:

In 1967, when Jim Inhofe became a member of the State House of Representatives, the State House had 74 Democrats and 25 Republicans, the State Senate had 39 Democrats and 9 Republicans, both U. S. Senators were Democrats, the U. S. House delegation consisted of four Democrats and two Republicans; the Republicans (Districts 1 and 6) represented Tulsa County, the old Cherokee Outlet, the Panhandle, and Oklahoma west of the OKC metro area.

At the beginning of 1966, Oklahoma had 949,211 registered Democrats, 231,744 Republicans, and 4,270 independents. 509,539 voted in the 1966 Democrat primary, while only 94,002 votes were cast in the Republican primary. Early in 1967, a group of Democrat legislators (including the infamous Gene Stipe) proposed banning GOP nominees from the general election ballot unless they could muster at least 30% of the primary votes received by the Democrats.

But things were beginning to shift: In 1964, Oklahoma had chosen Democrat presidential electors for the first time since 1948, but it would turn out to be for the last time ever, down to the present. And in 1966, Oklahoma had not only elected its second Republican governor but its first-ever GOP attorney general and labor commissioner.

A replay (with some minor corrections) of an entry from 10 years ago today.

Fifty years ago today, June 8, 1974, there was a massive tornado outbreak and widespread flash flooding in northeastern Oklahoma. 22 tornadoes touched down in Oklahoma, including 5 in Oklahoma County and four in Tulsa County, two of which passed through Tulsa city limits. A long-track supercell killed 12 Drumright residents and two others. For Tulsans who were kids in the '70s, it was the first major weather disaster we had witnessed.

According to the National Weather Service in 2014, it was Tulsa's costliest weather disaster to date and has since been surpassed only by the 1984 Memorial Day Flood and the 1993 Tulsa/Catoosa tornado. Two F3 tornadoes passed through Tulsa's city limits, the second one touching down before the first one had finished with us.

A new ArcGIS story map from the National Weather Service Tulsa office goes into depth on the nearly two dozen tornadoes that plagued the state along with torrential rain and flash floods.

Everyone had heard about an "old Indian legend" that the hills and the bend of the river protected Tulsa from tornadoes. But which Tulsa? The settlement around the Creek Council Oak? The Tulsa of 1918 that didn't extend south beyond 21st Street or east of Lewis? The Tulsa of 1957, when the newly completed expressway connecting the turnpikes was dubbed "Skelly Bypass"? The Tulsa of 1974 reflected the tripling in Tulsa's land area that took place in 1966. All the tornado damage occurred in areas beyond Tulsa's early-day boundaries, and Brookside was the only area within the pre-1966 boundaries that was damaged.

The east Tulsa neighborhoods around 21st and Garnett that were hit were mostly very new at the time. Nearby neighborhoods were hit by another tornado on December 5, 1975. I always thought of the area as a tornado magnet.

It was a Saturday, and Mom had taken me to Oertle's (a locally owned department store at 26th & Memorial, now home to Fox 23 and Cox Media Tulsa) so that I could buy a gerbil. I had wanted a gerbil because I had seen one at school -- I forget whether it had belonged to the teacher or to a classmate. I named her Herbie, after the star of Disney's The Love Bug, because a gerbil's shape reminded me of a Volkswagen Beetle. We came home with Herbie, a plastic Habitrail Deluxe Set (the big cage with the wheel and the tower), and official Habitrail food and litter. (Everything was orange or yellow. It was the '70s.) I seem to recall we were in a hurry to get home because storms had been forecast and the sky looked ominous.

There had already been tornadoes in Oklahoma City earlier in the afternoon. We would have been listening to KRMG on the AM-only radio in our Chevy Kingswood Estate station wagon as we drove home.

Some time after we got home we heard the tornado warning on the radio. Although we lived in Wagoner County, we were in the far northwest corner, in the then-unincorporated Rolling Hills subdivision, so we paid attention when Tulsa County's name was called for a storm.

In our little house at 416 S. 198th East Ave., there was no basement, so taking cover meant that Dad pulled the foam mattress out of the back of the station wagon and the five of us -- Dad, Mom, me, my sister, and our cousin Mandy -- huddled under it in our little hallway. Someone, probably Dad, also opened the windows away from the direction of the storm, in hopes of equalizing pressure and preventing the house from exploding. (That practice is now deprecated.)

Sometime after the storm had passed, my mom's next-to-youngest sister and her husband arrived to pick up their daughter. They had been at the Camelot Hotel for an event and were stuck in traffic on I-44 for hours trying to get to our house.

Mobile phones were practically non-existent. None of the TV stations had radar. I think weather radio existed, but we didn't have one.

Those are my memories of June 8, 1974. What are yours?

MORE:

Mike Smith was a recent college graduate and weekend weatherman for WKY-TV in Oklahoma City (now KFOR). He was on duty at the station from early morning to late at night. He says that June 8, 1974, was the day that TV weather coverage grew up:

The story begins when Dr. John McCarthy, my atmospheric physics professor during my final semester at the University of Oklahoma, had recommended we rethink how we would handle a major tornado outbreak after he returned from investigating the April 3-4, 1974, tornado "Superoutbreak." I was then the weekend meteorologist at WKY-TV (now KFOR) in Oklahoma City. One of the things he urged me to consider was, "When there are multiple tornadoes, forget the severe thunderstorm warnings!" I resolved to do so if I was ever in that situation.

I took John's advice to heart and gave it a lot of thought. There was no way of knowing I would need it just weeks later....

Up to this point, there was nothing particularly unusual about the events of the day. But, it is important to realize how weather was handled on television in that era. Very few stations had meteorologists. The paradigm was weather was the "entertainment" segment of the news. I was from Kansas City where no station had radar, no station had a meteorologist, one station had a cute "weathergirl" (as opposed to a woman meteorologist) and another had a comedian who threw ping-pong balls at the weather map when hail that size was reported. In two other Midwest markets, cartoonists drew cartoons during the weathercast.

WKY televised the world's first actual tornado warning (broadcast by the late Harry Volkman) in 1954 with a staff of meteorologists doing its weather coverage even in that early era.

In the 1970's, it had radar and its weather team were all meteorologists. The chief meteorologist was the legendary Jim Williams and the #2 meteorologist was Larry Brown. Because it was a Saturday, I was the meteorologist on-duty.

He mentions that none of the Tulsa TV stations had weather radar at that time. WKY's radar (just a month old at that point) was far enough away from the OKC NWS radar site that the station was able to spot a hook echo headed toward the NWS that NWS's radar couldn't see because of ground clutter.

In 2014, KJRH spoke to ORU Dean Clarence Boyd, Jr., who was a student on the second floor of an ORU dorm that lost its third floor to the tornado.

Also in 2014, KOTV talked to residents of the Walnut Creek neighborhood, which was damaged by the second Tulsa tornado. One house was damaged by a piece of the ORU administration building from almost a mile away.

Tulsa World has a collection of its photos from the June 8, 1974, tornado aftermath.

TulsaTVMemories.com has a photo of the tornado damage in Brookside north of the KTEW/KVOO studios and the recollections of Michael Evans, who rode out the storm in Tulsa's first and at the time only Arby's at 42nd and Peoria.

I locked the south door and noticed I could no longer see across the street. I turned to lock the north door and out of the corner of my eye saw both picnic tables were airborne. My reaction was to flinch because milliseconds later they pushed through the glass front. I have no idea what happened after that because for about 20 minutes I was unconscious.

Stacy Richardson was on the air on KAKC, in the Trade Winds West at 51st and Peoria, the night of the tornadoes, at least until the power went out for every AM station except one. Sonny Hollingshead remembers tornado damage to Bell's at the Fairgrounds. David Bagsby remembers going to 31st and Mingo to try to rescue a friend stuck in a flash flood. Tulsa also received five inches of rain that night. More Tulsa tornado memories. More Tulsa tornado memories. Even more Tulsa tornado memories. Still more Tulsa tornado memories.

The Tornado Project has a list of all tornadoes touching down in Oklahoma between 1950 and 2012.

MORE: Mark Liotta remembers the sounds and sensations as a tornado passed over his boyhood home at 21st and Mingo. An excerpt:

As the tornado set its sights on our street, surely moving directly over our house, the air was filled with the wind's roar, the impact of debris, and the wailing of air being pulled through the copper stripping that insulated our front door; the tornado was playing our house like a harmonica.

So there we were, 4 terrified kids in the hallway, in the midst of a shredding storm, a mattress on top of us, and our Dad on top of the mattress holding it down with his body, begging God to spare his family. I can't imagine our Dad's terror as we called out to him.

RELATED? The Doctor Who episode of Saturday, June 8, 1974, was the final appearance of the Third Doctor, Jon Pertwee, and the first, uncredited appearance of Tom Baker, the Fourth Doctor.

Another blog article started long ago, July 26, 2021, but never quite finished, until now.

In 1982, Oklahoma was celebrating its 75th anniversary, the Diamond Jubilee of statehood, and it was one of the focuses (along with Korea) of the Smithsonian Institution's 1982 Festival of American Folklife. The program book for the festival is available at the Internet Archive.

The 1982 festival's book includes a Guy Logsdon article on western swing. In this two-page essay, Logsdon puts the spotlight on Johnnie Lee Wills, Hank Thompson, and Leon McAuliffe, all still actively performing at the time, all based in or near Tulsa. Logsdon made some insightful comments on the musical distinctives of western swing:

A cultural blend of musical styles, western swing has one primary characteristic - a danceable beat. While country and bluegrass music primarily emerged as listening traditions, the principal audience for western swing is a dancing crowd. If the listeners on a Saturday night outnumber the dancers, the band has failed at playing good western swing....

The western swing band requires fiddles, drums, a bass fiddle, horns, a steel guitar and a rhythm guitar, performing a strong heavy rhythmic style. The voicing of the fiddles provides the distinctive sound for each band: Bob Wills voiced his fiddles to play harmony above the lead fiddle; Leon McAuliffe voiced his below the lead to simulate a saxophone-trombone effect; Spade Cooley, an Oklahoman who had a popular California band, used arrangements which voiced the fiddles above the lead, punctuating the music with a strong staccato sound. The sound and the quality of western swing music was determined by the leader. Musicians "play better" behind an outstanding leader, and the greatest of the leaders have made Tulsa their home.

Logsdon also mentioned Al Clauser, bandleader of the Oklahoma Outlaws, a band that started in Peoria, Illinois, moved to Des Moines, Iowa, Cincinnati, and Rock Island, before landing in Tulsa in 1942, performing on KTUL radio (AM 1430) and at the dance hall at Crystal City Amusement Park (on Southwest Boulevard in Red Fork, now the site of the Crystal City shopping center).

In 1937, while broadcasting on WHO in Des Moines, the Oklahoma Outlaws were invited by Gene Autry to be in his film Rootin' Tootin' Rhythm. Tulsa music legend Rocky Frisco, created the Wikipedia page for Al Clauser and wrote of the Hollywood trip:

Al Clauser & His Oklahoma Outlaws appeared in an early Gene Autry film, "Rootin' Tootin' Rhythm," and recorded a dozen tracks for ARC in the 1930s. When Gene called to ask Al to bring the band to Hollywood to be in the movie, WHO sportscaster, Ronald Reagan, asked Al if he could come along on the Band Bus and Al said that would be fine. Reagan's first experience on a movie set was during the shooting of this film. In the 1970's and 80's, the office of Al's recording studio had an enormous photograph of Reagan with Reagan's thank-you note for his "start in the business" penned on it in ballpoint.

Rocky Frisco was assistant engineer at Clauser's Alvera studio in Prue, Oklahoma.

TulsaTVMemories has stills from Rootin' Tootin' Rhythm featuring Al Clauser and his band.

In November 1940, the Oklahoma Outlaws debuted on WCKY Cincinnati's "Hot Coffee" early morning show; hiring staff musicians got WCKY out of trouble with the musicians' union.

It's not entirely clear, but it may be that the Oklahoma Outlaws were based in Cincinnati, while they broadcast a daily 15 minute show on CBS Radio Network. By May 1941, they were heard on 31 stations nationwide. But during the summer of 1942, the band was performing three nights a week in Tulsa at the Casa Loma Terrace at Crystal City Park and was heard daily on KTUL radio.

The Oklahoma Outlaws daily radio show was sponsored by Page Milk Company, and their girl singer, Clara Ann Fowler, used the sponsor's name as the basis of her stage name: Patti Page. Born in Claremore, Patti Page spent much of her youth west of the river in Tulsa, where she attended Clinton Junior High and Webster High School.

Clauser became a broadcast engineer at KTUL-TV, serving as studio supervisor and chief engineer. In the 1970s, Clauser played sidekick Uncle Zeke on KTUL's afternoon kids' show, Uncle Zeb's Cartoon Camp.

That festival handbook also has (on pages 30-34) a collection of Oklahoma recipes from various ethnic communities, presented by Sue Manos: Czech kolaches, Mexican tamales, German plum soup, Italian Easter bread casadele and Easter pie, Vietnamese cha gio (meat rolls), Indian fry bread, Cherokee grape dumplings, "Afro-American" fried okra and ham, "Anglo" chicken fried steak, cream gravy, and biscuits.

The 1982 Festival of American Folklife handbook also includes essays by Guy Logsdon on Woody Guthrie, Oklahoma folkways, and shape-note singing; by George Carney about pipelining in the oil fields; and by Clydia and Fred Nahwooksy on Indian crafts and dancing and quarterhorse match racing.

RELATED:

The Oklahoma Department of Tourism has an itinerary of places relating to Patti Page's life and career.

In 2011, Paul W. Dennis at My Kind of Country wrote profile of Patti Page and explained how she began working as her own backup singer:

Patti's first single, "Confess" came out during one of the Petrillo strikes in 1947, meaning that background singers were not available for recording purposes. Mercury thought that Patti's voice was sufficiently versatile that she could do her own harmony backgrounds, and so developed the practice of Patti overdubbing her own harmony vocals on record, the first artist with which this was done. "Confess" was one of three top twenty records she would chart from 1947-1949.

PragueFrank has a comprehensive discography of Al Clauser and the Oklahoma Outlaws. Patti Page did the vocals on "Never Pretend" from a late 1945, early 1946 recording session; it's on a Krazy Kat reissue: Al Clauser and the Oklahoma Outlaws: Oklahoma Stomp: Hot Western Swing 1937-1948

What was here? Who owned it? What did it look like? There are a number of resources available for reconstructing Oklahoma's geographical past, and they're easier to use than ever. These are my go-tos when researching the history of a neighborhood or answering questions about the past. This is an encyclopedic article, so if you're on the home page, you'll have to click the "Continue reading" link to see all of it.

These links will take you to specific sections of this article:

• Oklahoma Historical Aerial Digitization Project: Geotagged historical aerial photos going back to the 1930s
• Oklahoma Aerial Photo Inventory: A broader collection of imagery, including some not yet geotagged
• EarthExplorer: US Geological Survey aerial imagery: Higher resoution aerial photos from the 1950s through the 1970s, plus satellite and other imagery
• topoView: US Geological Survey historical topographical maps: Maps for Oklahoma from 1901
• US Bureau of Land Management Land Records: Township survey plats of Indian Territory from the 1890s, with field notes from the surveyors
• Oklahoma State University McCasland Maps Collection: Includes historical county highway maps as early as 1937, plus USGS topo quads not in the topoView collection
• WPA 1936 land ownership and valuation maps: Interactive statewide browser
• Tulsa Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps at Library of Congress: Building-by-building detail from Tulsa's earliest days through 1915, 1939, and 1962
• Tulsa Census Enumeration District and Census Tract Maps: Base street maps and boundaries of statistical neighborhoods
• Tulsa County Clerk Subdivision Plats and Deed Indexes
• Tulsa County Assessor Static Section Maps
• Miscellaneous Maps of Tulsa

Note: I started on this back on August 20, 2023, meant for it to be a quick blog post, but got bogged down trying to locate some of the places mentioned. It's November 19, 2023, and chilly and rainy outside, but I took a few minutes to finish this up and publish it.

What did Tulsans do 100 years ago to escape the summer heat? Some answers can be found in a little clipping I saved during some research on Tulsa's streetcars and electric interurban railroads, from the June 25, 1923, Tulsa Tribune:

Picknickers Flock To Woodsy Places As Sol Hits High

MANY BEAUTY SPOTS NEAR CITY ARE POPULAR

The old picnic basket has been taken off the shelf and dusted in the last few days. New sets of paper plates and napkins have been procured, and a supply of tin cups to be tied on the basket handle.

For summer has come, with Old Sol himself emphasizing the fact every day, and the urge of the cooling breeze, sought in woods and by streams, is stirring the populace.

Every paved road leading out of Tulsa is lined with motor cars and picnic crowds in the afternoons and in almost every direction, a good spot for supper grounds can be found.

If swimming is to be combined with sandwiches, as is generally the case, "Katy" lake, near Alsuma, which is reached by driving out the Broken Arrow road to the big brick house, which is about half way, and then driving down the dirt road for several miles, is one of the most popular.

Owasso lake, which can be reached by pavement as far as the town itself, has always been an attractive place for swimmers, and Hominy Falls has occasionally been selected by those who do not mind a long drive.

Fishing parties generally choose the Verdigris river, and a stream two miles south of Leonard is drawing groups of boys and men for week-end trips. Shell creek dam, beyond Sand Springs, offers the best nearby fishing opportunities.

At Parthenia park is a swimming hole not far from town. It is reached by driving out the Sapulpa road to Oakhurst, then going across the O. U. R. tracks to the lake. Parthenia, and the Oakhurst Country clubs grounds, are usually chosen by picnic parties, too.

A pleasant spot for weiner roasts, and parties who like to climb, is at Lost City, which can be reached by driving out the Sand Springs road, across the bridge to Fisher, then climbing up the hill. Turkey Mountain, out the Red Fork road, is also good for climbing parties.

Mingo Creek is a spot easily reached by driving out Admiral to Lewis avenue, then going north two miles, then east to the creek. Sapulpa lake, on the other side of that city, is good for both swimming and picnicking.

Among places which can be easily reached by those who do not have cars, are Sand Springs park, which the Sand Springs interurban reaches and Sunset and Electric parks, on the Sapulpa interurban line. All three places have swimming pools, concessions, and other amusements.

So where were these places? I could easily do a deep dive on each place mentioned, but I'll limit myself to locating each:

Katy Lake: A classified item in the October 10, 1923, Tulsa World announcing that hunting at the lake was not allowed provides a better description of its location: S 1/2 SE 1/4 S23 T19N R13E. That's an 80 acre tract bounded today by 38th Street, 41st Street, 73rd East Ave, and Memorial. As you'd guess by the name, the lake abutted the old MK&T ("Katy") railroad between Tulsa and Broken Arrow. A story from April of that year announced that it would be renamed Rose Lake and expanded with a 90-foot dam impounding 18 acres, surrounded by pecan groves. News items from later in the year suggest that the Rose Lake name never caught on. A miniature brewery located near the lake was raided and destroyed in a July 1923 raid, but the Katy Lake owner, J. O. Whitman, wanted it known that it was not at his lake. (The accused brewer was named J. H. Stout.)

USGS maps from the early 20th century show a lake straddling the tracks at that spot; the Jenks quadrangle from 1953 shows a string of lakes running all the way to Memorial. Today there's a large, dry stormwater detention area with a channelized Fulton Creek running along its northern edge. As recently as 2003, there was still a lake in the area. The "Broken Arrow road" probably referred to Harvard Ave, which would later be part of Oklahoma Highway 51 and US 64, which ran from 15th to Harvard to 51st Street to Memorial. Traffic for Broken Arrow would head east on 71st from Memorial.

The "big brick house" is probably the two-story house with the green tile roof that sat on a rise northeast of 41st and Harvard. A convenience store was built in front of it, it served as a day care or school for many years, and it was demolished after New Life Center moved to Broken Arrow and sold its building to Freeman Harris Funeral Home in 2001; Cornerstone Church is now located there. Newspapers say the home was built by an unnamed oil millionaire and was later an orphanage. Its final use was as Christian Day Care Center. The house was the original home of and then parsonage and classroom space for Bethany Lutheran Church in 1954, which built a Blaine Imel-designed sanctuary, which was sold to Bethel Temple in 1962. There is a news story from December 19, 1971, that brings together several fascinating threads of demographic displacement. The history of that plot of land and the churches connected with it deserves its own article.

Viewing for James Mautino will be 12 noon - 8 pm, Wednesday, November 1, 2023, and the service 11:30 am, Thursday, November 2, 2023, at Moore's Southlawn Funeral Home. Services will be webcast. Condolences may be left online at www.moorefuneral.com.

Former Tulsa City Councilor Jim Mautino passed away last Thursday, October 26, 2023, at the age of 91. He is survived by his wife Bonnie, four of his children, and many grandchildren. Jim was elected District 6 City Councilor in 2004 and again in 2009, serving two two-year terms. Jim Mautino was the best representative east Tulsa ever had at City Hall; arguably, he was the only representative east Tulsa ever had at City Hall.

I first met Jim in 2000 at a real estate office in midtown, where neighborhood leaders from across the city gathered to form the Tulsa Alliance of Neighborhoods (TAN). Jim was a leader in the Tower Heights neighborhood, just west of the KVOO transmitter towers near 11th Street and 145th East Avenue. This neighborhood of homes on one-acre lots was built when the area was way out in the country. The City of Tulsa annexed this area in 1966 and promptly forgot that they had. Even after Tulsa adopted geographical representation in 1989, councilors elected from District 6 were more concerned about pleasing the Midtown Money Belt and special interest donors that put them in office than about representing the needs of the district. Jim Mautino was the lone exception.

Jim was a retiree from American Airlines, where he had worked as a maintenance instructor and quality assurance auditor, roles that gave him invaluable skills of organization, communication, and analysis that he put to work for his fellow Tulsans.

Jim Mautino was passionate about developing and improving east Tulsa, where he had made his home since 1963. He saw the hills and valleys and prairies and wondered why so little of it had been developed. He wondered why city officials allowed the eastern gateway to the city, the confluence of I-44, I-244, US 412, and OK 66, to be lined with car lots and industrial uses, rather than revenue-generating retail. He wondered why city officials allowed industrial property owners with deep pockets to violate the city's zoning and stormwater ordinances. He wondered why the city's water board seemed more intent on fueling the development of Tulsa's suburbs rather than building infrastructure within our own city limits to increase our population and expand our sales tax base.

In 2004, Jim Mautino ran for City Council and won against long-time incumbent District 6 City Councilor Art Justis. Grassroots neighborhood activists from across the city volunteered to support Mautino's bid, while his opponent was backed by big money connected with a zoning controversy.

(Jim and I had a little adventure together at the Council meeting just before the election. We showed up early for the Council pre-meeting and came across an unannounced pre-pre-meeting, which seemed to have an inhibiting effect on the councilors in attendance. Shortly thereafter, a City Council staffer screamed at me.)

Jim was just shy of 72 years old when he first took office, but he had more energy for the job than officials decades younger. Jim regularly held district "town hall" meetings at Martin East Regional Library, leading off with a PowerPoint about infrastructure projects and new development in the district, talking about city issues of general concern, and fielding questions. I can't find any of the video of those meetings online, but an archived page of links from a June 2005 Jim Mautino meeting on David Schuttler's Our Tulsa World website gives you an idea of the topics he covered: Fence lines and city limits, boards and trusts, street problems, retail growth in Owasso and its threat to Tulsa sales tax revenues, Light Industrial zoning along US 412, the sweetheart water deal the Tulsa Metropolitan Utilities Authority made with the suburbs. From my description at the time:

D. Schuttler has posted video excerpts of Mautino's June 29th town hall meeting, and you can hear the councilor speak about encouraging growth and increasing retail sales within Tulsa's boundaries, and how water lines, annexation and fence lines, and comprehensive planning all fit together to help or hinder development within the city limits. Jim Mautino is passionate about encouraging quality development in east Tulsa, and that means making undeveloped areas within the city limits a higher priority for new infrastructure than the suburbs.

Councilor Mautino became part of a bipartisan, multiracial, grassroots, reform-oriented caucus originally known as the Gang of Five -- five councilors representing the neglected periphery of the city, seeking to encourage accountability in government, fairness in application of the zoning laws, and quality development within the city limits to grow Tulsa's tax base.

The Powers That Be (a group I dubbed the Cockroach Caucus) immediately set out to break up the council majority. One member, unemployed, was offered a job in the mayor's administration. Two more, Jim Mautino and District 2's Chris Medlock, were targeted with recall petitions. Both men prevailed in the July 12 recall -- Mautino winning with 71% of the vote.

As an indication of the bipartisan esteem in which Jim was held, here's a bit from his 2006 re-election endorsement from attorney and Democratic activist Greg Bledsoe.

A little over a year ago I had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know your City Councilor Jim Mautino. Since that time, it has become clear to me that Jim is the most hardworking, dedicated and selfless public servant I have ever known. He is the salt of the earth. His tireless commitment to the improvement of District 6 and the whole City of Tulsa is without limitation. He has worked long hours for better sewers and streets (including a dramatic increase in funding for District 6), balanced economic development and transparent government at City Hall.

As far as I can tell, when it comes to local issues, Jim does not have a partisan bone in his body. He does not vote a party line, but always votes for what he thinks is right.

As an American Airlines employee of over 39 years, Jim was an active member of Transport Workers Union Local 514. At City Hall he has consistently voted and tried to help the non-certified employees organize a union, a position that was recently approved by the Oklahoma Supreme Court. He has held accountable the Mayor, a member of his own party. He has been a consistent advocate for neighborhoods and small businesses. He has always been willing to meet and hear the concerns of all, even those who disagree with him.

When necessary, Jim asks the tough questions that have not been asked, but should have been. When it comes to waste and corruption at City Hall, Jim has applied the finest attribute of a traditional Republican, good business sense, to look into what's been going on there.

Jim Mautino is exactly the type of City Councilor any citizen would want to represent them: fair, hardworking, and honest. I hope you will vote to RE-ELECT JIM MAUTINO. You cannot find a better person to support your district or the City of Tulsa.

But three elections in three years took a toll. Mautino survived a 2006 primary challenge but was narrowly defeated by Democrat Dennis Troyer in the general election.

In 2009, Mautino stepped up to run again, defeating Troyer with the help of new residential development in the part of east Tulsa within the Broken Arrow School District. Jim rejoined Roscoe Turner and Maria Barnes, two other neighborhood leaders who had regained council seats that year. He arrived back on the council as a fan of new Mayor Dewey Bartlett, Jr., but soon became disillusioned:

When Jim returned to City Hall in 2009, he set out to be newly elected Mayor Dewey Bartlett Jr's strongest advocate on the City Council. He urged his fellow councilors to give Bartlett Jr the benefit of the doubt for at least six months as he got his new administration going. Despite their good-faith effort to work with the new mayor, Bartlett Jr managed to alienate each councilor, one by one, with broken promises, misleading information, and contemptuous treatment.

One of Mautino's signature issues in this second term was animal control. His effort to find a way to make laws against animal abuse and abandonment economically enforceable was met with passive-aggressive behavior by city bureaucrats.

Then you have the councilors who do their own research, who dig into ordinances and budgets and case law and what other cities are doing, and they persist in asking "why not?" and presenting alternatives. From a bureaucrat's point of view, such a councilor is a pain in the posterior, a threat to their comfortable, stable existence, and must be taken down. If you can use your lack of cooperation to provoke the councilor, passive-aggressively, to the point of expressing his irritation, you win.

Since this sort of inquisitive, pro-active councilor also poses a threat to other entrenched interests, the aggrieved bureaucrat can usually find a helping hand from the various organs of the Cockroach Caucus, who miss the days when all one had to do was pull on their strings to get the councilors to do their bidding. The obligatory unflattering photo, misleading headline, twisted caricature, and tut-tutting editorial follow in due course.

It's a misunderstanding of the nature of bureaucracy to think that bureaucrats will be supportive and encouraging of a councilor's ideas for new ways to solve a problem, if only the councilor will be polite and patient. (People seeking public office really should read Jim Boren's books first.) It's not that bureaucrats are bad people, but it's a profession that tends to attract the risk-averse. You don't climb in a bureaucracy by taking risks. The exceptions to the rule are there, and they're real treasures because they're rare. Too often, bureaucrats will try to wait the councilor out -- keep holding meetings, keep delaying a final plan, until the councilor gets interested in another project or gets voted out of office.

It's a pretty good indication that a city councilor is doing what he ought to be doing if he's getting shot at by the bureaucracy and the daily paper. Jim Mautino is a good councilor, and if District 6 voters want an advocate for their interests who won't be deterred by bureaucratic foot-dragging, they'll return Jim Mautino to office this fall.

Jim, along with most of the rest of the councilors, was targeted by Bartlett Jr and his establishment allies, using the memetic accusation of "bickering," with the help of gerrymandering and plenty of campaign money.

Their real problem with Jim Mautino was that he was an intelligent, diligent city councilor. He used his freedom as a retiree to devote himself full time to researching laws, investigating best practices, meeting with constituents, and proposing solutions to the problems they raised.

One of the things that seemed to annoy City Hall bureaucrats about the old council was their habit of raising new issues to be discussed, explored, and acted upon. From the bureaucrats' perspective, this meant more work and their own priorities displaced by the councilors' pet issues.

Nearly all of the outgoing councilors had certain priorities that were inconvenient or outright obnoxious to the administration, the authorities, and special interests. Jim Mautino was concerned about animal control, food truck sanitation, chloramines in water, and encouraging new, high quality development in east Tulsa....

Although the specific issues varied, in each case these councilors were willing to spend time outside the scheduled meetings to read, to talk to citizens, to commission research from the council staff (and actually read it), and then to keep pushing for action. That's pretty much a recipe for annoying city officials.

Despite his defeat in his 2011 re-election bid, he kept digging into issues, like the new trash contract, until his term came to an end. With the end of that term, a short era marked by inquisitive, intelligent councilors was replaced by the Complacent City Council.

Despite the abuse and arrows hurled at him over the years, Jim Mautino persisted with a smile on his face and hope in his heart. May God grant comfort and happy memories to his grieving family, and may God grant our country more intelligent, devoted public servants like Jim Mautino.

Tulsa is the focus of another recent article from a UK newspaper website: A story in the Guardian Online about the impact of expressway construction on Tulsa's Greenwood neighborhood, and the possibility of reviving the neighborhood by removing the north leg of the Inner Dispersal Loop.

Twenty-five years before Don Shaw was born in Greenwood, a white mob invaded the Tulsa neighborhood and killed more than 300 people. Much of the tight-knit community was burned to the ground, including his grandfather's pharmacy.

But when Shaw was growing up in the 1950s and 60s, few people wanted to talk about the massacre - perhaps in part because much of the damage was no longer visible.

He remembers walking the streets of Greenwood in his youth and seeing Black-owned businesses up and down its blocks: a hotel, dry cleaner, soul food restaurants, churches, a ballroom, dentists, pharmacies, hardware store, photo studio, the 750-seat Dreamland Theatre. It was an oasis of Black economic self-sufficiency, inside an Oklahoma city flush with oil industry wealth where the Klu [sic] Klux Klan once publicly operated.

"There was a lot of parties," recalled 76-year-old Shaw, who has lived in Greenwood his whole life. "Dances and stuff like that, concerts, lots of stuff going on."...

By December 1921, more than half of the homes that were destroyed had been rebuilt, despite city leaders rewriting zoning and fire codes to prevent the Black neighborhood from surviving. (Some Greenwood locals worked on their homes at night to avoid policemen.) When I-244 came decades later, resistance to the highway was undermined by a lack of Black representation in city government.

The Guardian story was apparently inspired in part by a graphic depiction of the effects of I-244 on the neighborhoods north, northeast, and northwest of downtown Tulsa, produced by New York City architect Adam Paul Susaneck for his @Segregation_by_Design Twitter account. Susaneck got in touch with me back in early June, looking for aerial photos and other information that would help him with a then-and-now visualization of the sort that he has done for many other cities, part of a long-term project (segregationbydesign.com) to depict vividly the destruction wrought by Federal highway and urban renewal funding.

Using historic aerial photography, this ongoing project aims to document the destruction of communities of color due to red-lining, "urban renewal," and freeway construction. Through a series of stark aerial before-and-after comparisons, figure-ground diagrams, and demographic data, this project will reveal the extent to which the American city was methodically hollowed out based on race. The project will cover the roughly 180 municipalities which received federal funding from the 1956 Federal Highway Act, which created the interstate highway system.

Since the creation of the Interstate, freeway planning has been an integral tool in the systematic, government-led segregation of American cities. Used not only as a direct means to destroy the communities in their paths, freeways have also been used to cement racial segregation and ensure its endurance. Working synergistically with the legacy of redlining, freeway planning became the ultimate enforcement mechanism: literal walls of concrete and smog that separated black communities from white. In the name of the thinly veiled racist policies of "urban renewal," the freeways took the red lines off the map and built them in the physical world.

Here is the minute-and-a-half video on Tulsa, Greenwood, and I-244:

Greenwood, Tulsa--the famous "Black Wall Street"--before and after highway construction and "urban renewal."

"Decades after the Tulsa Race Massacre [in 1921], urban 'renewal' [in the 1960s] sparked Black Wall Street's second destruction," writes @SmithsonianMag. pic.twitter.com/Qz099Ww1nt

— Segregation_by_Design (@SegByDesign) July 19, 2023

After a street scene from circa 1949, looking north on Greenwood from just north of Vernon AME Church, the video shows the same location today, with homes and shops replaced by today's empty OSU-Tulsa parking lots. The view shifts to a 1951 aerial, zooming in to Admiral Blvd and 1st Street, just west of Utica Ave. The view pans west, as a modern aerial photo replaces the 1951 aerial, showing not only the destruction in the immediate path of the expressway, but the erosion of neighborhoods bordering the expressway, with homes and churches and schools replaced by parking lots and industrial buildings.

At about 27 seconds in, we see an outline showing the boundary of the Greenwood District, and we see I-244 take out two-thirds of what had been a densely-developed business block between Greenwood, Hartford, Archer, and Cameron, and then another business block between Brady, Cameron, Greenwood, and Frankfort. Continuing west, the highway took out more homes and businesses in Greenwood and in the adjacent neighborhood west of Detroit Ave that I've called the Near Northside. A wider swath was cut to build the Cincinnati-Detroit interchange with I-244, and Cincinnati, which had stopped north of Standpipe Hill, now cut through it.

At 41 seconds, I-244 crosses Main Street, sparing Cain's Ballroom. A few seconds later, the massive northwest IDL interchange, connecting the Tisdale Expressway, the Keystone Expressway, and the west leg of the IDL (I-244) wipes out a working-class white neighborhood and cuts downtown off from Owen Park and Crosbie Heights. Edison Junior High gets cleared for the Keystone Expressway at 54 seconds, and then more destruction along the southern edge of the Owen Park neighborhood. When the expressway reaches Yukon Ave, the view zooms out to show a modern aerial view, with the expressways that ring downtown highlighted in yellow, and then the same view from 1951.

The devastation caused by the expressway was significant, particularly to the area known as Deep Greenwood, the commercial district centered on Archer and Greenwood. A May 4, 1967, Tulsa Tribune story, republished here on BatesLine, An Old Tulsa Street Is Slowly Dying, had a photo of the demolition of the Dreamland Theater (at the time, an Elks Lodge) and comments from merchants who were being displaced by the expressway.

The Guardian article discusses the $1.6 million FY22 Reconnecting Communities grant received by the North Peoria Church of Christ, for "I-244 Partial Removal Study." They hope to place the reclaimed land in a trust, to reconnect the street grid, and to avoid gentrification.

But the Grauniad story and the I-244 removal effort misses an important factor in the second demise of Greenwood. The damage done by the expressway was compounded by the "Model Cities" program, the new, Federally funded and allegedly humane approach to urban renewal. It, too, was adopted in 1967, the same year that the path of the expressway was cleared through the neighborhood. The aerial photo from September 10, 1967, suggests that had the expressway been the only insult suffered by the Greenwood District, it might have survived, but Model Cities cleared out everything except the churches and the little remnant of the commercial district south of I-244. Even the original Booker T. Washington High School building, which had survived the 1921 massacre (the L-shaped complex in the upper left of the photo below) was demolished in 1983 in the name of "renewal."

For fun, I decided to look up the local newspaper from 50 years ago this weekend. I was particularly curious to see what kind of live entertainment was on offer, and what people were watching on TV. (News clips below are from newspapers.com. Click the image to see the original on that site, or you can "open image in new tab" to see it at its original size.)

The Tulsa Oilers (Class AAA, American Association, affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals) had a free Little League clinic at Oiler Park at 5:30, sponsored by the Jaycees and KTUL channel 8, followed by the Oilers vs. the Denver Bears at 7:30, followed by Memorial Day fireworks after the game. Huckett's Downtown Bowl at 1221 S. Main offered student bowling for 43 cents per line.

Bell's Amusement Park, at the west end of the Tulsa Fairgrounds, offered "Double Fun Days" for the first week of summer: $3 to ride all rides except the Zingo, the big wooden roller coaster, between 11 am. to 3 p.m., and again between 8 p.m. to midnight, with "4 Hours of Super Rock Music by the 'Timbre' Group.' Lakeview Amusement Park at 4100 N. Harvard offered Dollar Days all Memorial Day Weekend: Ride all the rides you like for $1, from 1 p.m. until closing time. Amusement parks were typically pay-by-the-ride.

World Museum and Art Centre, the collection of evangelist T. L. Osborn on the south side of I-44 east of Peoria, announced new summer hours, 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., and urged families to visit the World Museum FIRST before heading off on vacation to see "classic cars, buggies, and exquisite antiques... comical caricatures and whimsical junk-art... the Fine Arts Gallery... the imposing Polynesian and Oriental Expos."

The big entertainment event was Jethro Tull in concert, with Brewer and Shipley, at the Tulsa Assembly Center, with remaining tickets available for $5.00 and $4.50.

An even bigger legend would be singing on Sunday, not in a bar, but at Tulsa Baptist Temple: Wanda Jackson performing at "THREE GREAT SERVICES!" 9:45 am, 11:00 am, and 7 pm.

• Hear Her Thrilling Songs and Testimony
• Voted Outstanding Lady Western Singer of 1971
• Before Conversion, She Appeared at Tulsa's Leading Night Spots
• Bring a Carload of Your Friends

Plenty of country & western dancing on offer: Gene Mooney and the Westernaires at Cain's ($2.50, 9 pm - 1 am, BYOL, Singles Welcome); Johnny Leach and the Country Gentlemen at the Will Rogers Round-Up Club in Claremore; The Persuaders with Dale Postoak at Dutsch's Party Barn (1/2 mile east of 91st & Memorial).

Just down the road from Dutsch's was the Gaslight Dinner Theatre, performing Take Her, She's Mine by Phoebe & Henry Ephron.

The VFW offered sounds of the '40s ($3 couple, $2 male stag, $1.50 ladies). Across Central Park, the American Legion offered Bobby Wayne and His Band. (Ted Creekmore and the Tuf-Nut Rover Band had been there the week before.) Harry Arnold and His Orchestra were playing at Danceland Ballroom, 2635 E. 11th St., an old movie theater that was still standing until about 20 years ago, when Bama demolished it for more parking.

Nightclubs offered the California Malibus at the Aristocrat Club, 1543 S. Sheridan; hypnotist Richard DeLaFont at Captain's Cabin, 7970 E. 41st; Gus and The Band at the Cave Club in the Falls Apartments, 61st & Memorial; Karen Rondel at the Copa Club in the Hilton at I-44 & Yale (now the derelict OYO Hotel).

Dining options included several Lebanese steakhouses: Eddy's at 3510 E. 31st, Jamil's at 2905 E. 51st, and Elias' Garden Trails Steak House at 91st & Lewis. The latter offered a prime rib or filet dinner for $4.50, including "relish Dish, Humus, Pahini, Taboli, Cabbage Roll, Lebanese Salad and Baked Potato." The notorious Avalon Supper Club, just across the Creek County line near the Turner Turnpike gate, served dinner from 6 p.m. to 5 a.m. Other restaurants advertising: Peppe's (downtown at 14th & Main, Villa Capri at 61st & Sheridan); Henry Jin's Ricsha Cantonese Gourmet Restaurant, 3301 S. Peoria; Mondo's in their original location on 61st between Riverside and Peoria; D-J's Charburgers and Game Room; 2623 E. 11th; Sleepy Hollow, 6605 S. Lewis; Next Door at 5107 S. Harvard (Cheeseburger & Suzy Q's for 94 cents). The Sky Chef Americana restaurant invited the general public to Dinner for 2 Night, Friday, Saturday, and Monday: A prime rib dinner for 2 went for $6.95, and they'd validate your airport parking ticket.

For those interested in naughtier nightlife: The Pearly Gate, 1549 S. Sheridan, "Tulsa's Finest Adult Stage Show," featured Little Princess ("Tulsa's Favorite Act") and Miss Baby Dumpling, whose photo can be described as an early-day Rosanne Barr in a beehive hair-do and a nightie. The Far East Tavern at 1108 S. Harvard offered "Dancers Daily, 2 p.m. to 2 a.m.). "Sexy Shannon" was performing at Milt's Show Bar at 51st & Yale. The once-grand Majestic at 4th and Main and Studio 1 at 520 S. Main downtown offered "adult" "art films," as did the Capri Drive-In between Tulsa and Sand Springs. Loew's Brook, a mainstream movie house that is now a restaurant, was showing the X-rated United Artists production Last Tango in Paris, starring Marlon Brando. Demand for tickets was high enough that tickets had to be reserved in advance, unusual for movie theaters in that period. The Sunday paper had a form you could cut out and send in to the theater with your choice of days and times.

(MORE: The Pearly Gate, or sometimes Pearly Gates, had some legal troubles over the years: At the time of this ad, the City Commission suspended the bar's license for five days starting May 31 for an open-saloon violation. In 1977, a customer sued the bar after he was bitten by a lion, and there was another 3-day suspension for allowing drunks to loiter.)

There wouldn't have been much else happening in downtown Tulsa. Only one mainstream downtown theater remained open: The Rialto at 13 W. 3rd was showing Sweet Jesus Preacher Man, which was also showing at the Apache at Apache and Harvard.

In 1973, Tulsa had 30 movie screens, with two indoor twins (Village Cinema at Admiral and Garnett, Boman Twin at 31st and Sheridan) and two outdoor twins (11th Street Drive-In, Admiral Twin). The booming eastside of Tulsa boasted the city's first triplex theater, the Plaza 3, now home to Eastland Baptist Church. It was the newest theater in town; the Village twin was the next newest. The rest were single screens of varying vintages. Tulsa had six drive-in theaters, plus the 51 Drive In on 71st Street between Tulsa and Broken Arrow (which had been State Highway 51 before the Broken Arrow Expressway was completed. The only new G-rated movie that weekend was the musical Oliver! at the Village Cinema, but the Plaza 3 offered revivals of Gone with the Wind and Camelot.

The best place to watch a cinematic epic in Tulsa was the Continental, located east of the Skelly Drive and Broken Arrow Expressway interchange, roughly where Interchange Plaza office building is now. It was part of a small chain, with outlets in Oklahoma City and Denver. We went there to see the Pink Panther movies, and they always had the latest James Bond film. That particular night, the Continental was showing Hawaii, based on James Michener's historical novel, and starring Julie Andrews and Richard Harris. It must have been showing in OKC as well, because that's the address in the ad: United Founders Plaza at May and Northwest Highway.

I had never heard of the Vamp Theatre. The address would put it roughly where the Brookside Walmart Neighborhood Market is now located, and where the infamous Stables Lounge once was. Looks like someone had the idea of showing old-time movies, aimed at a family audience, but then you could go to Crystal's and watch Little Rascals (Our Gang) shorts while you ate pizza. The Mondo's ad mentioned silent movies, too.

(UPDATE: The first Vamp ad appears in the February 12, 1973, paper. The May 26th ad was its final appearance, as far as I can determine. That first ad promoted a concert movie of Leon Russell, but hinted that it would be a live performance. On April 21, Doctor Soul of KKUL radio would be there in person to host the screening of the Super Soul Show. Early May featured "Mick Jaggar" [sic], and May 10th and 11th boasted Tulsa's first continuous rock marathon, four straight hours of concert movies. An interesting idea -- show rock concert movies to paying customers -- that didn't draw the crowds the entrepreneur imagined. A late switch to classic movies (including The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari from 1919 and Marlene Dietrich's Blue Angel from 1929) didn't turn things around. The same address is attached to McKay's Appliances in 1972 and furniture, etc. in 1974.)

The First Baptist Church ad for special worship services for singles is cleverly placed in the midst of the entertainment pages.

For those who preferred a quiet day in front of the television, KOTV channel 6 offered its usual Saturday afternoon line-up: Championship Wrestling at 2, the Wilburn Brothers at 3, Billy Walker's Country Carnival at 3:30, Buck Owens Ranch Show at 4, Nashville Music at 4:30, Porter Wagoner Show at 5, the CBS Evening News at 5:30, and Hee Haw at 6. I didn't appreciate country music in 1973, although I preferred the corny jokes and pretty girls on Hee Haw to Lawrence Welk on KTUL channel 8. Saturday afternoon TV on the other stations was focused on sports, but KTUL started the afternoon with Generation Rap, American Bandstand, and Soul Train. KTEW channel 2 had NBC's Big League Baseball.

KOTV had CBS's big prime time Saturday lineup, too: All in the Family, Bridget Loves Bernie, Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and a special: The Musical Magic of Burt Bacharach. The other networks didn't compete with the last two hours, but just threw on old movies.

After the 10 p.m. news on all three stations, more old movies. KTUL ran the 30 minute Horn Bros. Country/Western Variety Show, advertising Horn Bros. Furniture on Admiral at I-44, and then Mazeppa's Uncanny Film Festival, this week showing Brother Orchid and House of Frankenstein, mixed in with the antics of Gaylord Sartain, Gary Busey, Jim Millaway, and the rest of the Mazeppa crew.

What was I doing that Saturday? None of the above other than watching TV. I might have ridden my bike around the neighborhood, maybe down to the In-N-Out convenience store at Admiral and 200th to get an Icee. Mom probably took my sister and me with her to go grocery shopping at Red Bud in the Rolling Hills Shopping Center. Some Saturday nights, I put together a Chef Boy-ar-dee pizza kit, mixing the dough, trying to spread it over the cookie sheet without leaving holes. (Mom would make Kraft Macaroni and Cheese because my sister didn't like pizza.) We would have tuned in for Hee Haw and later for Mary Tyler Moore and Bob Newhart -- but not All in the Family. We would have switched over to watch Emergency! Dad loved the shows that Jack Webb produced (Dragnet, Adam 12) and the genre of cop and detective shows that were so popular in the '70s.

The whole region would have been watching the weather: There was a tornado watch until 3 a.m. Two lines of storms moved through northeastern Oklahoma that evening, one around 3:30, another around 8, producing a tornado that wiped out Keefeton, in Muskogee County, killing five, including four members of a family of 5 who were trying to get to the school to take shelter. Another twister took out most of Walker's Tourist Court on the east side of Locust Grove. In all nearly 20 tornadoes were observed around Oklahoma that Saturday night.

Before Eisenhower's Interstate Highway System, before state highway officials collaborated to create a national highway numbering system in 1926, motorists traveling cross-country followed turn-by-turn directions contained in the Official Automobile Blue Book. These books are a time capsule of transportation history, not only mentioning routes, but road conditions, locations of hotels, garages, train stations, and trolley tracks.

Above is a map of Tulsa from the Official Automobile Blue Book, 1920 edition, Volume 7, p. 779. That link will lead you to the page that begins the Route 901, 126.9 miles from 2nd & Main in Tulsa to Robinson & Main in Oklahoma City.

Only the streets that matter for inter-city motoring are labeled. The reset have to be inferred from old maps.

Heading east, the route goes down 2nd, but bends left at Kenosha onto 1st Place, and then joins 1st Street at Lansing Ave. Two blocks east at Norfolk (misspelled as Norfork) it jogs north to Admiral Blvd, which is today the north service road for I-244. Admiral Blvd jogs north at Utica, and the route reaches Whittier Square at Lewis, where it forks three ways.

• To Independence and Joplin: North on Lewis, east on Dawson Road.
• Optional to Independence and Joplin: North on Lewis, east on Archer Street
• To Muskogee: South on Lewis, east on 11th Street.

The route to Oklahoma City turns south at 2nd and Boulder, west at 5th Street, which merges into 7th west of Houston Avenue. The route turns south onto Maybelle Ave to 11th Street, then diagonally southwest across the Arkansas River bridge -- this part of the route was obliterated for the SW Inner Dispersal Loop interchange. On the west side of the river, the map shows the route heading south on Quanah to 17th, west to a road that follows the east side of the Frisco tracks to 19th, then west on 19th to Union Ave (labeled Division Street on this map). It looks to me like the mapmaker misidentified Union as Division; the 1920 census enumeration district map shows present-day Quanah Ave was West Tulsa's Division Street, before the annexed town's street names were normalized with Tulsa's, so in all likelihood, the route followed Quanah south, then Southwest Boulevard, then Old Sapulpa Road through Oakhurst and Bowden, into Sapulpa on Mission Street and Dewey Ave, then following the old Ozark Trail / Route 66 alignment that parallels and passes under the Frisco tracks.

The trolleys mentioned in the turn-by-turn route instructions are the Tulsa Street Railway (specifically the 5th Street track and the car barns at 5th/7th & Lawton) and the Sapulpa & Interurban, aka Oklahoma Union Traction, with an interurban line crossing the Arkansas River at West Tulsa and city streetcar lines in Sapulpa.

The Tulsa map shows SL&SF (Frisco -- SW to NE), AT&SF (Santa Fe -- SW to N), MKT (Katy - W to SE), and Midland Valley (N to S) railroads, but we can only infer electric interurban lines from mentions in the turn-by-turn text. These railroad stations are shown but Midland Valley is absent:

• MKT at Main between Cameron & Easton.
• SL&SF/ATS&F at Boston south of the Frisco tracks (to be replaced by Union Station)
• West Tulsa station south of what would be 18th & Santa Fe, west of the tracks
• East Tulsa Frisco station at about Delaware Ave, south of the Frisco tracks

Civic amenities shown include Oaklawn Cemetery, Owen Park, Central (Centennial) Park, and Swan Lake Park, but only Admiral Park is named. Kendall College (now University of Tulsa) is misspelled as Kendale, but shown as a couple of buildings east of College Ave between 5th and 7th. The Fair Grounds were between Archer St and the Frisco tracks, from Lewis to about Archer Place. The near northside is hidden beneath the title and scale on the upper left, but deep Greenwood Ave is not hidden. A Post Office is shown on the east side of Madison just north of the Frisco tracks, which seems strange, as that location is isolated from the center of town.

Route 902 is a longer route to Oklahoma City, 168.4 miles via Okmulgee and Henryetta, but it avoids Creek County oilfield traffic. Route 905 takes the Ozark Trail from Tulsa to Joplin, but you go through Owasso, where there was an Ozark Trail monument, to get to Claremore. Route 906 links Tulsa with Bartlesville and Independence, Kansas, paralleling present day US 75. Route 910 goes from Tulsa through Bixby to Muskogee. Each route has its reverse: Route 931 heads back from Independence to Tulsa, concluding with a description of Bartlesville and an ad for the Ketchum Hotel at 5th & Main in Tulsa.

MORE:

Hathi Trust partial collection of Automobile Blue Book volumes

1919 Official Automobile Blue Book, Volume 7, Tulsa map. In this edition, there is no route description for Tulsa to OKC via Stroud, but the road is depicted on the overview map.

"The Official Automobile Blue Book, 1901-1929: Precursor to the American Road Map," John T. Bauer (Department of Sociology, Geography, and Earth Science, University of Nebraska at Kearney), Cartographic Perspectives (Number 62, Winter 2009): Includes a list of all known editions with a breakdown by volume -- very helpful for finding the volume of interest in the Internet Archive and other online libraries.

RELATED:

Automobile Club of Southern California's beautiful strip maps of the National Old Trails Road from Los Angeles to Kansas City, with branches to Denver, Cheyenne, Big Springs, Nebraska, and the Grand Canyon. The stretch from Las Vegas, NM, to Los Angeles was the starting point for US 66 in 1926.

The National Old Trails Road: The great historic highway of America, a brief resume of the principal events connected with the rebuilding of the old Cumberland--now the National old trails road--from Washington and Baltimore to Los Angeles: A 1926 book with lots of interesting history about the evolution of named and numbered highway systems, beginning with the National Road from Cumberland, Maryland, to Vandalia, Illinois. Includes an unsuccessful 1913 congressional proposal detailing 18 numbered highways that would be improved with money from a new federal tobacco tax. Roads 11 and 13 would pass through Muskogee and Oklahoma City, but Tulsa doesn't get a mention. Also much discussion about the proper and constitutional role of the federal government in road building.

Newspapers.com has some amazing content that can help to locate long-lost rural places around Tulsa. I was searching for information about Bethel Union School, later known as Paul Revere School (which I wrote about in conjunction with the centennial of Southern Hills Baptist Church), and I found a legal notice in the November 14, 1946, edition of Tulsa's Farm and Garden newspaper. The notice from the Tulsa County Board of Commissioners announced a bond issue election on December 17, 1946.

The election included two propositions. The first was to borrow $280,000 to build a bridge across the Arkansas River at Jenks. The bond, to be repaid over 20 years, was estimated to cost taxpayers a total of $530,000. The bridge, consisting of 19 pony trusses, was completed in 1948 and still stands, but open to pedestrians only since the new Jenks bridge opened in 1995. On the same ballot was a $1,250,000 bond issue to build a 200-bed county hospital.

The morning after the election the Bartlesville Examiner reported unofficial results with 181 precincts out of 190 reporting: The county hospital was defeated 3,006 (34.6%) to 5,690. The Jenks bridge was approved 7,246 (73.2%) to 2,652. The hospital issue had a significant amount of undervotes: 1202, or 12.1% of people who voted on the bridge question didn't vote on the hospital question. Opposition to the hospital focused on the ongoing cost of operation. A letter to the editor in the Tulsa Tribune (reprinted by the Collinsville News) pointed out that the city already owned the old Morningside Hospital building at 502 N. Boulder and could fit it out for 40 beds. Local government could pay private hospitals to take any additional indigent patients more economically than building and running a new facility.

In the state general election on November 5, 1946, 60,593 Tulsa County ballots were cast for the top two candidates (40,734 for Republican Olney Flynn, 19,859 for Democrat Roy Turner, who won statewide), so the special county bond election a month later and just a week and a day before Christmas had only a sixth of the turnout.

The legal notice for the December election listed all of the 138 precincts in the City of Tulsa on one page and the 52 precincts in the small towns and rural townships on the next, giving the name of the place, the address, the election judge, and the two election clerks. It's remarkable to see how many polling places were set up in homes.

In the list you'll find names of schools long demolished (e.g., Whittier, Jefferson, Dunbar, old BTW, Mingo, Paul Revere, Plainview) or renamed (e.g., Lee, Cleveland, Sequoyah, Roosevelt) and many other forgotten places, like the Rainbow Inn on North Peoria, somewhere between 66th and 126th Streets North.

The 52 rural precincts (all except for those in the towns of Sand Springs and Broken Arrow) are named after civil townships. Some precincts voted at locations lost to time: Dawson Precinct No. 7 voted at the Twin Oaks Filling Station; Frye Precinct No. 1 voted at the home of Mrs. Bessie Wade, 1 mile north of Kramer corner, wherever that was. Willow Springs citizens voted at the White Church, on 129th East Ave south of 121st Street. Some of the Lynn Lane polling places were right on the southeast edge of Tulsa's growth -- Paul Revere School at 51st & Lewis, the Fairgrounds Administration Building, the Tulsa Tennis Club at 28th & Columbia, a house at 1305 S. Memorial, Tulsa Lumber Company at 4112 S. Peoria, Crowell Heights Baptist Church, and Plainview School, shown on a 1914 USGS topographical map as on the north side of 11th Street between Garnett and 129th East Ave.

Civil townships are county subdivisions, exclusive of incorporated cities and towns, that had a governmental role for a few years after statehood, but township offices were abolished by all of the counties by the end of the 1930s, although they continued to provide a structure for census districts and voting precincts. Some civil townships share a name with an incorporated municipality (Owasso, Skiatook, Collinsville, Red Fork, Dawson, Bixby, Jenks, Glenpool) and some do not (Wekiwa, Lynn Lane, Fry, Boles, Willow Springs). In Tulsa County, civil township boundaries mainly followed cadastral township boundaries and the Arkansas River.

Tulsa County, from "Oklahoma Minor Civil Divisions and Townships," U. S. Census Bureau, 1941

From north to south:

• 186th St N to 126th St N: Skiatook township (W of Mingo); Collinsville township (E of Mingo)
• 126th St N to 66th St N: Owasso township
• 66th St N to Archer St: Dawson township
• Edison St / Archer St to 61st St S: Red Fork township (SW of the river), Wekiwa township (N of river, W of Tulsa), Lynn Lane township (E of river and Tulsa)
• 61st St S to 121st St S: Jenks township (W of river), Fry township (N and E of river, W of Mingo Rd), Boles township (E of Mingo Rd)
• 121st St S to 211th St S: Glenpool township (W of Harvard), Willow Springs township (E of Mingo, N of River), Bixby township (E of Harvard, S of river)

The 1955 Tulsa County Highway Map shows the township names and boundaries in greater detail.

Here are links to Newspapers.com clips of the 1946 Tulsa County precinct list. At some point, I hope to convert the information to a KML file, so it can be displayed as a map overlay.

• City of Tulsa 1946 precinct list
• Tulsa County 1946 rural precinct list

Conceptual drawing of a Gilcrease Museum expansion completed in 1963, by architect Joseph R. Koberling. From the Beryl Ford Collection.

You have five more days (Wednesday, June 30, 2021, to Sunday, July 4, 2021) to visit Tulsa's Gilcrease Museum before the museum, as you've known it for the last 57 years, goes away forever. The museum is open from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. every day, with extended hours to 8 p.m. on Thursday. You can book online. The museum is being demolished and replaced, the result of a bait-and-switch with Tulsa voters, who had approved funds for museum expansion.

The City had promised renovating 64,000 square feet of the museum and adding 20,000 square feet of new construction. Here's a video, preceding the 2016 Vision Tulsa vote, showing a floor plan for an expanded museum, with a new entrance, gift shop, and an upward expansion to make the museum visible from downtown.

Floor plan and conceptual drawing of Gilcrease Museum expansion as proposed prior to the 2016 Vision Tulsa sales tax vote

The change in plans was substantial enough to require public notice and City Council amendment of the Brown Ordinance governing the sales tax funds. The existing 134,000 sq. ft. building is being replaced with an 83,500 sq. ft. facility.

At 83,500 square feet, the new Gilcrease Museum will be markedly smaller than the existing one, a 134,000-square-foot structure built as a 1913 carriage house and subject to numerous expansions over the decades.

Note that this number is even smaller than reported when the demolition plan was first revealed.

While proponents claim, "By being thoughtful about the design, the 89,000-square-foot facility will have more exhibition space than the current 134,000-square-foot structure," I expect to learn, when the new building opens, that they tried and tried, but could not produce the added exhibition space within the constraints of the budget.

This past weekend, conceptual drawings of the new facility were released: A characterless glass box, surrounded by unshaded outdoor plazas. The Gilcrease Vision Task Force, appointed by Mayor G. T. Bynum IV, chose the firms redesigning the museum; I have so far been unable to locate a list of the members of this task force.

We had a rushed visit on Sunday afternoon, with plans to return one more time this week. Gilcrease Museum holds many happy memories for our family, like the 2006 city inauguration, which we attended with our brand new baby boy, celebrating the swearing-in of John Eagleton, Rick Westcott, and Maria Barnes; or special exhibits like Ansel Adams (2009), George Washington (2012), Thomas Moran, Norman Rockwell, and Dorothea Lange. For many years, Gilcrease hosted Santa Claus (aka my dad) for a special seasonal Funday Sunday; for our family, it was a chance for a family Christmas photo and to reacquaint ourselves with the masterpieces on display.

During our visit this past Sunday, several galleries were off-limits, including the gallery on the southwest corner of the building and the traveling exhibition gallery. The recreated artist's studio is gone. The large gallery that was once dedicated to paintings of the American West is now called "Americans All! / Americanos Todos!" devoted to art by immigrants. This gallery, uniquely in the museum, has captions in both English and Spanish. It includes works by great artists of the American West who once had dedicated galleries at Gilcrease -- Thomas Moran (from England), O. C. Seltzer (from Denmark), and Albert Bierstadt (from Germany) -- but it also includes works of less significance (to be kind) by more recent immigrants. Included in this latter category is a selfie-video of a young Mexican woman, Carmen Castorena, who was allowed to stay in the US under Obama's DACA program.

The Perfect Tommy Girl by Carmen Castorena

This performance piece examines my alteration process in becoming the ultimate American me. The setting is my bathroom. As I see my reflection and "operate" on myself through multiple bleaching procedures, lightening of my eyebrows, removal of facial hair, and changing the color of my eyes, I eat a bowl of fresh cacti. The phrase, "Nopal En La Frente (Cactus on Your Forehead)," is used to mock those who go around pretending they are not Mexican. The consumption of this native plant is a way to communicate that no matter what physical procedures you may undergo, a Mexican can never fool anybody into thinking they aren't Mexican. There is a battle between the exterior (seeing the physical changes) and interior (processing those changes) that forms the focal point of the performance. This video is my way of channeling years of alienation and reaching closure in the creation of my "ideal self."

(It's useful to know that attempts at trans-ethnic transformation are futile. The notion is applicable to other situations: "No matter what physical procedures you may undergo, a [male] can never fool anybody into thinking [he] [is]n't [male].")

A room of the gallery that might have been used to display more of the beautiful landscapes and Native American art stored in the vaults was instead used for two walls of editorial cartoons -- one by Bruce Plante, one by Thomas Nast -- advocating for unrestricted immigration -- and two walls with infographics designed to push the same political line.

This should be seen as a preview of the reborn Gilcrease Museum: The great works depicting the vast frontier of the American West will be displayed only to the extent needed to support new works that push a political message. The mingling of old and new is an effective strategy: We certainly would not have bothered with the exhibit except for the presence of iconic Gilcrease works by artists like Moran, Bierstadt, Seltzer, John James Audubon, and Augustus Saint Gaudens.

Want more evidence of the downgrade? Here's a video from Gilcrease Museum Senior Curator Laura Fry, speculating that painter Alfred Jacob Miller, his patron William Drummond Stewart, a Scottish nobleman and veteran of the Battle of Waterloo, and Antoine Clement, a French / Cree buffalo hunter, engaged in homosexual acts with one another, based on Miller never marrying and the friendship between the three men. Stewart had invited Miller to accompany him to the great trappers' rendezvous in 1837 in present-day Wyoming. Stewart commissioned Miller to paint scenes of the American West to decorate Murthly Castle in Dunkeld, Scotland. Clement was principal hunter of Stewart's traveling party. According to her LinkedIn profile, Fry was a member of the Mayor's Gilcrease Vision Task Force which authorized the ugly new building. The Gilcrease YouTube channel includes more of this sort of nonsense, like a presentation on "Gender in Pre-Columbian Cultures and Native Communities Today," part of a November 2018 symposium on gender.

Museums are part of the overall kulturkampf of the Left, the Long March through the Institutions. I will be saddened but unsurprised if long-time favorites, landscapes and scenes of the American West from the core of Thomas Gilcrease's collection, are never returned from storage, for lack of space, you understand.

According to some accounts, Thomas Gilcrease founded his museum in San Antonio in 1942 and moved it to Tulsa in 1949. But an Associated Press story in the December 20, 1942, Daily Oklahoman says that the "San Antonio oil man's 80-acre [Tulsa] estate has not been occupied for several years" and was being transformed "into a museum and orphanage for Indian children... by a crew of carpenters and painters.... The institution will be supported by the Thomas Gilcrease Foundation. The oil man has donated valuable assets and his extensive collection of Indian relics to the foundation."

Part of the building is said to date back to 1913. Walls of rough-hewn sandstone block can still be seen on the north and south sides of the building where they haven't been enclosed or superseded by later additions.

The Thomas Gilcrease Institute of American History and Art was transferred to the City of Tulsa on January 27, 1955, after citizens approved a bond issue in August 1954 for $2.25 million to pay the debts of oilman Thomas Gilcrease, staving off the dispersal of his priceless collection of the art and artifacts of the American West. (This video by Fry describes the early history of the museum.) The bonds were repaid over time by revenues from Thomas Gilcrease's oil assets. While the original mid-50s concept for the Civic Center included a 42,600 sq. ft. facility for the Gilcrease collection, in 1958, the existing grounds and building, which had been leased from Thomas Gilcrease, were deeded to the city. In 1961, Tulsans voted a half-million dollar bond issue for a museum expansion that opened to the public on October 27, 1963, which added the Vista Room and a 250-seat auditorium, tripling the size of the museum and enabling 40% of the collection at that time to be put on display. At the grand opening, the Gilcrease Foundation announced it was donating to the City 10.5 acres of land and its collection of art and artifacts, valued at $5 million in 1963.

A museum map from that period shows the following galleries:

1. Introductory to the Collections
2. American Classics
3. Remington Collection
4. Russell Collection
5. Taos Artist
6. Seltzer - Leigh - Johnson
7. Landscapes - Treaties - People
8. Special Exhibit - Willard Stone Sculpture
9. Thomas Moran
10. George Catlin - Alfred Jacob Miller
11. Artifacts

Gilcrease Museum expanded again in the 1980s, this time with $12.25 million in private funds, to add a gift shop, restaurant, and additional exhibit space, including Helmerich Hall with its double-barrel-vaulted ceiling as the new heart of the museum and space for a conservation laboratory and anthropological collections. The museum doubled in size to 127,786 sq. ft. The new space opened on November 7, 1987. During the 1980s, admission was free, and the museum was open weekdays 9 to 5 and 1 to 5 on Sundays. The City of Tulsa has since provided additional capital funding for improvements via "Third Penny" sales taxes and bond issues. In September 2014, the Helmerich Center for American Research opened its doors.

So go see Gilcrease before it is transformed into something expensively worse. And next election, replace Bynum IV and the City Council with officials who will insist that the City of Tulsa's Gilcrease collection of art be curated and displayed to celebrate the American West, in the spirit of the oil man who brought it together and gave it to us.

This past Saturday morning, after visiting the Greenwood Farmers and Artisans Market, I took some photos of the old Moton (Morton) Health Center complex just west of Rudisill Library, on the north side of Pine Street between Greenwood Avenue and Greenwood Place. According to the cornerstone, the original three-story, blond brick building dates to 1931 and was a municipal hospital. Charles Adrian Popkin was the architect; DeWitt and Howard were the contractors.

Sometime in the 1970s or 1980s (my guess, based on the style), an ugly extension was grafted on to the front of the building, and single-story outbuildings were constructed for additional clinic space. These outbuildings have signs labeling them as clinics for pediatrics, OB/GYN, nutrition, WIC, and dentistry. The roof of the historic building appears to be gone, at least partially. It appears to have been boarded up for at least a decade. Urban explorer David Linde has a photoset of the interior of Morton Health Center on Abandoned Oklahoma. The additions appear to have compromised the integrity of the historic building.

Tulsa Municipal Hospital (later known as Moton Memorial Hospital), 1931. The Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society. Accession # C1906.

The building was a hospital from 1932 to 1967, and was turned over by the city to a community board in 1941, when it was named Moton Memorial Hospital in honor of Robert Russa Moton, who had succeeded Booker T. Washington as president of the Tuskegee Institute.

In 1938, the Interracial Committee of the YWCA issued a "Study of the Conditions Among the Negro Population of Tulsa." The first page was devoted to medical care:

There is one hospital in North Tulsa located at 603 E. Pine St: Municipal Hospital.

Equipment: 32 beds, but no beds for children. Condition of equipment: Inadequate.

Staff of hospital: 1 doctor, 4 nurses, 2 orderlies, 1 janitor, 1 cook. Nurses work an eight hour day and for $65 per month.

Charges to patients: None to charity cases. In ward: $17.50 per week. $20 per week for private room.

Hospital is maintained by the County. "A" rating in the small hospital class.

Other hospitals in Tulsa to which negroes are admitted:

• St. John's Hospital at 21st and S. Utica: 13 beds
• Tulsa General at 744 W. 9th: 6 beds

Charges in above: Charity cases, none.
$17.50 per week in ward and $25 per week in private room.

The report goes on to note that an outpatient and general clinic was "held daily, with no charge to the patient" at the hospital, "maintained by the County and is staffed by the regular staff of the hospital." The Public Health Association maintained weekly clinics for tuberculosis, child welfare, "immunizating," and prenatal care at 509 E. Archer Street, provided by a public health nurse and attending physician at no cost to the patient, maintained by Community Fund. For venereal diseases, the Public Health Association worked with patients at the Municipal Hospital. Crippled children were helped at a clinic at the YWCA at 621 E. Oklahoma Place, maintained by the Crippled Children's Society.

An item in the February 20, 1942, edition of the Tulsa Herald All-Church Press announced that the Women's Society (W.S.C.S.) of the First Methodist Church was donating 51 full-size sheets and three "draw sheets" to Moton Memorial Hospital, "Tulsa's hospital for negroes." That summer, incumbent Tulsa County District 3 Commissioner Ralsa F. Morley, running for re-election, wanted voters to know that he stood for the Tulsa County Clinic, Moton Hospital, and "All Out for Victory for America." In the spring of 1957, Moton, Hillcrest, and St. John's hospitals were to hold a week-long clinic to administer the first of three doses for the new Salk polio vaccine.

In 1967, Moton Memorial Hospital was closed and the facility reopened the following year as an ambulatory (outpatient) clinic.

A Model Cities (urban renewal) project report from January 1971 mentions a planned $2.25 million expansion that would "double the Clinic's Current capabilities." This is presumably the source of the ugly 1970s additions.

The Morton website says, "In 1983, and as required by BHC, the center was renamed. The name chosen was Morton Comprehensive Health Service in honor of W. A. Morton, M.D., a local physician with a distinguished record of service at Moton Memorial Hospital."

In 2006, Morton Comprehensive Health Services moved from this facility to a new building at 1334 N. Lansing, on the site of a neighborhood that was cleared by the Tulsa Development Authority to create an industrial park.

It would be lovely to see the ugly additions cleared away, the 1931 building restored, and the empty space around it filled with new development in a traditional urban style, with street-fronting retail and offices or apartments above.

In 2013, the city used brownfield remediation grants to remove asbestos and other hazards from the main hospital building. In 2017, a Houston developer named Michael Smith won TDA approval for Morton's Reserve, a project that would restore the 1931 building, construct a three-story mixed-use building around it, with a four-story apartment building to the north. Smith & Company Architects from Stafford, Texas, developed the site plan. But after a flurry of PR in 2017, nothing more seems to have happened.

In May 2021, Mayor G. T. Bynum IV announced that the old hospital will become an entrepreneurship incubator called Greenwood Entrepreneurship Incubator @ Moton (GEIM). No timetable is mentioned for restoring the building, but the post mentions the Morton's Reserve project, and in the meantime, a program called MORTAR Tulsa will provide mentorship and training for for-profit entrepreneurs.

MORE: On May 6, 1980, Cheri Poyas with the Junior League of Tulsa interviewed physician and surgeon Dr. Charles Bate, who came to Tulsa in 1940 and did much of his early work at Moton. He recalls that Moton had a rope elevator, no laboratory facilities, and a poor-quality X-ray machine. He recounts the special challenges of anesthesia, home births, treating tuberculosis, venereal disease, and small pox, and doing blood pressure screenings.

UPDATE 2021/09/06: A story in Tulsa People says that the redevelopment project will happen, but now the Moton building rehab will be funded and managed by Tulsa Economic Development Corporation, separate from the new development, which still involves Michael E. Smith, a Tulsa native now living in Houston.

"The hospital building sits on a 3.83-acre tract of land," he explains, "and I'm doing everything outside of the hospital building.

"This project will bring another level of single-family homes into the area -- 12-16 really nice East Coast-style, vertical three-story townhomes -- and then 64 units of multi-family," Smith continues. The whole complex, a $20 million project, will be called Morton's Reserve.

Both organizations plan to start project design later this year.

We shall see.

Stage for the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission's cancelled "Remember & Rise" commemorative event, set up in the middle of ONEOK Field. May 28, 2021. Copyright 2021 Michael D. Bates. All rights reserved.

Omar Villafranca of CBS News reports this morning that the cancellation of Monday's "Remember and Rise" concert, organized by the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission, was due to demands made by lawyers representing the three living survivors and descendants of departed survivors of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre:

CBS News has learned the event was canceled after a lawyer representing survivors and their heirs made demands that the organizing commission considered unreasonable.

A commission source showed CBS News an e-mail listing demands that was sent by the lawyer Sunday.

It includes $1 million each for survivors of the massacre and a non-negotiable $50 million pledge to a fund for survivors and descendants.

(National Geographic magazine estimates that the attack on Greenwood destroyed property that, had it accrued to the present day, would be worth approximately $600 million dollars, according to a statement made by historian Scott Ellsworth during his presentation yesterday at the John Hope Franklin Symposium.)

The source told CBS News the commission and lawyer had already agreed on financial terms, but the new demands couldn't be met, at least in time for Monday's commemoration.

The lawyer claimed to CBS News that the commission hasn't been negotiating in good faith for months, and he maintained that the survivors never agreed to participate in the event.

The story is also available on the KOTV News on 6 website.

Last night, when the cancellation was announced, the News on 6, Tulsa's CBS affiliate, reported, "News On 6 had a number of sources reach out citing specific reasons why the Remember & Rise event was canceled, but at this time, we have not been able to get anyone on the record."

That initial story quoted the Commission's news release: "due to unexpected circumstances with entertainers and speakers, the Centennial Commission is unable to fulfill our high expectations for Monday afternoon's commemoration event and has determined not to move forward with the event at this time." My suspicion was that Stacey Abrams and John Legend were made aware of the strife between the Commission and the community and were concerned about damage to their reputations if they participated in an event that was disavowed by massacre survivors and descendants. The statement could also be read as indicating that the Commission was unable to secure the participation of the survivors and did not want to go forward without it. There is also the unspoken threat of embarrassing protests. Dissenting members of the community had already set up a rival series of events, the Black Wall Street Legacy Festival, which will include nationally known politicians and entertainers.

Greenwood Rising Black Wall Street History Center, a $20 million project of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission. The building looks like the sort of thing a small-town bank with more budget than taste would have built in the 1960s, after knocking down their 1890s Romanesque Revival edifice. Copyright 2021 Michael D. Bates. All rights reserved.

UPDATE 11:30pm, 2021/05/28:

Below is the email from survivors' attorney Damario Solomon-Simmons to the Centennial Commission, obtained by News on 6. The email appears to have been written on Sunday, May 23, 2021, and refers to a meeting on Saturday, May 22, 2021.

The email mentions an article in the May 22 Enid News, reported by Janelle Stecklein, chief of the CNHI Oklahoma Capitol Bureau, which included the following statements from State Sen. Kevin Matthews, chairman of the Centennial Commission, commenting on the demand from the survivors for some of the money raised by the Commission to tell the 1921 story to help make whole those who lost everything in 1921.

However, Matthews said the plaintiffs don't have a right to the $30 million raised to construct the history center because the money was donated expressly to build it.

"The first goal is to tell the story, transparently," Matthews said. "That's the foundation of reparations."

He said that during the past 100 years there have been books, movies and documentaries about the massacre. Survivors haven't sought those profits, but now the efforts of local Tulsa residents trying to tell the story are being attacked.

"I will say that I am not angry about those accusations," Matthews said. "I think that they come from an honest place. Unfortunately when you have a community that is starved of resources and attention for so many years, these types of things happen rather than ... having meaningful discussions instead of pointing and blaming. And, unfortunately that happens in traumatized communities, families and relationships."

Matthews said one of the center's donors has independently agreed to pay the three survivors salaries and assist with their health care costs during the remainder of their lives.

But he said the survivors didn't mention that assistance during their congressional testimonies calling for reparations.

With that in mind, here is the letter from Solomon-Simmons:

Good evening Everyone,

First thank you for your time yesterday. Please know that we thought the meeting was productive. leaving the meeting we were cautiously optimistic that an agreement could be reached which would allow us to have a more unified Centennial commemoration. However, finding out today that Sen. Kevin Matthews, Chair of the Centennial
Commission, attacked the credibility and integrity of our survivors has set-us back some.

As a result, this is where we are and/or what we need in order to come to an agreement at this point:

1. $1M per survivor. We believe you understand this is a priority for us. We believe you understand there is a great sense of urgency. We understood that you are going to visit with the Commission/TCF/Funders to ascertain how much you can commit to providing to the survivors before May 31st 2021.

2. $50M pledge to our Survivor and Descendant fund.

a. After debriefing with our advisors, we have decided we will not agree with any other entity housing our fund.

This is non-negotiable. It is important to us and our community that our fund be housed at a Black bank.

b. As I explained during our meeting we have been working with our corporate counsel, Schulte, Roth, and Zable (including William Zable), and our mentor Bryan Stevenson of the Equal Justice Initiative to develop our fund. With Bryan's counsel we have identified 6 Black banks that we are currently in discussions with about the possibility of holding our fund.

c. With the help of our national partners, we plan to announce our fund at our May 31st, 2021 nationally streamed Survivor and Descendant Town Hall with an initial fund raising goal of $100M.

d. We request that the Commission/TCF/Funders pledge to raise $50M for our fund. If you agree to this, we would like for you to specify a date you plan to have this amount raised by.

3. Allot 33% of Greenwood Rising revenue to directly benefit survivors and descendants and the North Tulsa community. We understand you believe this ask is high. However, we understand you will visit with the Commission/TCF/Funder to ascertain what type of revenue split would be acceptable to you. We also understand that you would agree to make a public announcement to work towards establishing a TIF district for the Historical
Greenwood community that would directly and specifically benefit North Tulsa.

4. Greenwood Rising board make-up. We understand that you are going to ascertain whether the Commission/TCF/Funders will agree to expand the board by 6 to 15 and allow us to select those 6 new members.

5. Public Support of lawsuit. We understand that you will visit with the Commission/TCF/Funders to ascertain whether you all will publicly support our litigation and efforts to hold the perpetrators of the Massacre and its aftermath accountable.

6. Public apology from Commission Chairman Sen. Matthews for Attacking Survivors.

a. Sen. Matthews must immediately and publicly apologize for his inaccurate portrayal of the survivors, his misrepresentation of the proposed gift from GKFF, and our campaign for justice and reparations in the media. https://www.enidnews.com/news/last-tulsa-race-massacre-survivors-push-for-reparations/article_cf550c14-ba7c-11eb-b273-872233bcb49b.html.

b. GKFF and I agreed that any gift would be strictly anonymous to ensure the gift would not impede our larger reparations campaign. In fact, the grant agreement specifically states the grant would be "anonymous and not be announced in an way publicly or privately." Obviously, this confidential agreement was breached, and the proposed gift
is now being used to try to put the survivors in a false light to lessen their credibility and undermine our overall reparations fight. As a result, we will decline the grant.

c. Sen. Matthews needs to clearly state that no Commission donor has given any funds to Justice For Greenwood or the Survivors. Despite what Sen. Matthews and others have falsely stated, there was never an agreement to provide for the survivors "for the rest of their life" or "all of their medical needs." Sen. Matthews' public apology and clarification must occur by the end of business tomorrow Monday May 24, 2021.

7. Rise and Remember Event. If we can get to an agreement on the above, we would also want to help shape the program of the Rise and Remember event at ONEOK Field occurring on May 31, 2021. We want an opportunity to speak and honor the survivors and our work.

In regard to timing because our events begin Thursday May 27th 2021, and our schedules will be completely swamped from then on, we believe that we need to have an agreement on the above points by Wednesday May 26th 2021. As a result, we believe we should schedule our next meeting for tomorrow afternoon Monday, May 24th 2021. We are available between 3-5pm.

Please let us know what time will work for you. Dr. Crutcher will be in Dallas for a speech, so a Zoom call is preferable. Lastly, we request that until and unless we can get to an agreement please remove any refe[re]nce of survivors participating in any Commission events from your website.

Thank you.

Damario Solomon-Simmons, Esq., M.Ed.
Managing Partner
SolomonSimmonsLaw

In a brief press availability today, Matthews took no questions, but, according to News on 6, he stated that "they had been approached by legal representation of the three living survivors and said they had agreed to $100,000 per survivor, along with $2 million in seed money for a reparations fund. He said they had raised the money."

Michael Mason of the Center for Public Secrets posted late this afternoon on Facebook:

According to an unnamed source, Abrams and Legend backed out because the Commission would not bend to the survivor's demands.

This evening I walked through the Greenwood District and past ONEOK Field, still set up for Remember and Rise -- a massive stage in the outfield, seats in the infield, generators on the outfield concourse. Workers appeared to be packing stage equipment into cases. It seems a shame that, after all the preparation, with seats and a stage in place, nothing will happen there on Monday evening.

1915 Sanborn map showing the commercial section of Tulsa's Greenwood district a few years before its first destruction

To journalists, photographers, and visitors, pilgrims this week of the centennial of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre: Welcome to Tulsa. Some context may help you interpret what you see and hear this week.

The cultural foundation for violent mob action on May 31 and June 1, 1921 was laid over the previous four years by Tulsa's respectable government, media, and business leaders, who openly encouraged mob violence against labor union organizers and other undesirables during the World War and afterwards. In the Tulsa Outrage, November 7, 1917, masked vigilantes whipped, tarred, and feathered 17 men connected with the International Workers of the World, an event that the front page of the Tulsa World cheered with the headline "Modern Ku Klux Klan Comes into Being." The Center for Public Secrets is featuring a series of articles by historian Randy Hopkins, "The Trail of Atrocity." There's an exhibit at the Center's space at 573 S. Peoria, Architects of the Massacre, open daily from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. through Thursday, May 27, 2021. The exhibit illustrates the powerful Tulsans who set the tone for the 1921 pogrom and its roots in the extra-legal Councils of Defense established by Oklahoma governor Robert Lee Williams to suppress dissent after the U. S. entered World War I. Randy Hopkins spoke on this topic last night; tonight, Tuesday, May 25, from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m., Hopkins will speak again along with Chief Egunwale Asuman on "The Mask of Atonement: Tulsa's False Promise of Reparations."

Within a year of the 1921 massacre, Tulsa's African-American community rebuilt Greenwood, having first defeated in court an attempt by city officials to use zoning to block survivors from rebuilding on their own land, forcing the community further north. Survivors of the massacre called the rebuilt Greenwood greater than what had gone before. But Greenwood was destroyed a second time by city government, using federal highway and urban renewal money, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, driving an expressway through the district's very heart, and following up with the Model Cities urban renewal program that left only a single block of retail buildings and a handful of churches. City officials finally succeeded in driving Tulsa's African-Americans further away from downtown; displaced families were encouraged to relocate to cheaply built post-war subdivisions in far north Tulsa, neighborhoods that had been utterly white at the 1960 census.

1939 Sanborn map showing the commercial section of Tulsa's Greenwood district, an area known as Deep Greenwood, after its rebuilding

BatesLine has presented over a dozen stories on the history of Tulsa's Greenwood district, focusing on the overlooked history of the African-American city-within-a-city from its rebuilding following the 1921 massacre, the peak years of the '40s and '50s, and its second destruction by government through "urban renewal" and expressway construction. The linked article provides an overview, my 2009 Ignite Tulsa talk, and links to more detailed articles, photos, films, and resources, including the Solomon Sir Jones films, home movies that documented Greenwood and other black Oklahoma communities in the mid to late 1920s.

1951 aerial photo showing the commercial section of Greenwood ("Deep Greenwood") and the present-day path of I-244.

Carlos Moreno has written a series of feature stories, The Victory of Greenwood, on the men and women who built and rebuilt the community: John and Loula Williams, O. W. Gurley, A. J. Smitherman, Mabel Little, Ellis Walker Woods, to name a few. A book of the same title will be released on June 2.

You might notice that, up the hill and west of Martin Luther King, Junior, Boulevard (formerly Cincinnati Avenue), along John Hope Franklin Blvd (formerly Haskell Street) and nearby streets, there are empty blocks of land, with old brick foundations and concrete steps where homes used to be. These are not race massacre ruins. The homes you see, in a neighborhood that was untouched by the 1921 disaster, were acquired and cleared in the 1990s and 2000s by the city's urban renewal authority as part of the city's promise to provide 200 acres for a state university campus. About 80 acres of that land, now filled mainly with surface parking lots and a few academic buildings, came from the Greenwood urban renewal area; the rest came from west of MLKJr Blvd. I wrote a feature story, "Steps to Nowhere," for This Land Press, in 2014, about the history of this neighborhood, which was never part of Greenwood; that link will also lead you to photos and other articles about the neighborhood's history.

Photo copyright 2014, Michael D. Bates. 116 E. Fairview St., Tulsa. These are urban renewal ruins from the 1990s, not race massacre ruins from 1921.

The centennial commemorations have exposed divisions within Tulsa as a whole and even within the African-American community, with separate organizations sponsoring separate events.

The Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission is not an official body of state or local government, but it has become as unofficially official as possible, with elected officials appointed to its board, and the support of the City of Tulsa, the George Kaiser Family Foundation and other foundations, and the Tulsa Regional Chamber. This is the group sponsoring the new $20 million Greenwood Rising tourist attraction on the southeast corner of Greenwood and Archer; the group sponsoring the sold-out Remember and Rise event at the baseball stadium, headlined by Georgia politician Stacey Abrams and singer John Legend.

Many black Tulsans feel excluded and alienated by the Centennial Commission's plans. Former City Councilor Joe Williams seemed to speak for many people when he wrote:

This Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission and so-called remembrance of the destruction of Greenwood and slaughter of the several hundred innocent victims and celebration of Black Wall-Street is one entirely big joke. Most of US can't even get tickets to the main event including the Survivors and their Descendants because they were already saved up and reserved for the elite and other people from the outside. The power brokers and system are just trying to make it appear to the nation and world like we are all cumbaya and all good together here in T-town. They don't care at all about US or OUR community and the disrespect is intolerable. The day after May 31st our treatment will be back to the usual same-o-same-o status quo. They are pushing FAKE NEWS!

From a recent Human Rights Watch article on Tulsa:

Rather than working on such a plan [for reparations to survivors and descendants], city and state authorities have focused most of their efforts on creating the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission and its flagship project, the "Greenwood Rising" history center, which is meant to honor the victims and foster cultural tourism. The Centennial Commission has raised at least $30 million, $20 million of which went to build Greenwood Rising, but it has alienated massacre survivors and many descendants of victims by failing to adequately involve them in its planning....

At least one survivor, 106-year-old Lennie Benningfield Randle, has issued a cease-and-desist letter ordering the commission to stop using her name or likeness to promote the project. All three living massacre survivors have sued the city of Tulsa, accusing it of continuing to enrich itself at the expense of the Black community by "appropriating" the massacre for tourism and economic opportunities that primarily benefit white-owned or controlled businesses and organizations....

The three living survivors of the massacre have said they do not plan to participate in any of the Centennial Commission's commemoration events. They will instead headline a community-sponsored event called the Black Wall Street Legacy Festival, which is the only centennial commemoration that includes and centers the survivors. They will be joined by US Senator Cory Booker, US Representative Sheila Jackson Lee, and the creators of the HBO hit series "Watchmen," which was situated in Tulsa and depicted the race massacre in its opening scene. Unlike the Centennial Commission's events, the Black Wall Street Legacy Festival will emphasize the Black Tulsa community's demand for reparations.

The three survivors, Lessie E. Benningfield Randle, Viola Fletcher, and Hughes Van Ellis, Sr., along with Vernon A. M. E. Church, and descendants of survivors who have passed on, have sued the City of Tulsa, Tulsa Regional Chamber, Tulsa Development Authority, Tulsa Metropolitan Area Planning Commission, Tulsa County Commission, the Sheriff of Tulsa County, and the Oklahoma Military Department in district court under public nuisance and unjust enrichment law. From the complaint:

The problem is not that the Defendants want to increase the attraction to Tulsa, it is that they are doing so on the backs of those they destroyed, without ensuring that the community and descendants of those subjected to the nuisance they created are significantly represented in the decision-making group and are direct beneficiaries of these efforts.

I note that page 47 of the complaint uses a graphic I created for my initial column on the "Greenwood Gap Theory" in the June 13, 2007, edition of Urban Tulsa Weekly. The graphic (shown earlier in this article) is a section of a 1951 aerial photo, overlaid with names of streets, landmarks, and railroads, along with the present-day path of I-244, a path that was cleared in 1967.

(Unfortunately, the complaint also misuses, on page 52, a graphic from my 2014 This Land Press story about the lost Near Northside, a photo of steps on the south side of Fairview Street between Boston and Cincinnati Avenues (now MLKJr Blvd), from which the BOK Tower in the background had been digitally erased. As detailed in the article, based on land records, street directories, fire maps, and aerial photographs, this neighborhood was a white neighborhood in 1921, was not damaged in the massacre, and survived until the City of Tulsa's urban renewal authority acquired the land in the 1990s.)

In addition to the Centennial Commission and the John Hope Franklin Center for Reconciliation is hosting its annual symposium May 26-29, with a keynote speech by Prof. Cornel West, and many other talks and panel discussions.

The Greenwood Cultural Center, located just north of I-244, is offering tours of the Mabel Little House (a house that was relocated from further north on Greenwood and rescued from urban removal), a special exhibit of the Kinsey African American Art & History Collection, a Sunday, May 30, "Brunch with the Stars," featuring Alfre Woodard, Tim Blake Nelson, Garth Brooks, Wes Studi, and Stanley Nelson, a June 2 panel discussion on the "Bitter Root" Comic Series, the Greenwood Film Festival, June 12 - 14, and a virtual reality film, The Greenwood Avenue Experience, June 15-17.

There is also conflict within the African-American community over the significance of the last remaining block of 1922 Greenwood that survived urban renewal. Small business owners there, mostly African-American, regard it as primarily a place of business, as it was before and after 1921. Other members of the community seem to see it primarily as a sacred space of remembrance. The Greenwood Chamber of Commerce, representing the building owners and businesses, publicly opposed the application by the Black Wall Street Legacy Festival to close Greenwood Avenue and were condemned by many for evicting a small business early this year for non-payment of rent. Business owners had mixed feelings about the Black Lives Matter mural that was painted on the street in front of their shops during the protests of last summer, with some feeling that it distracted from the story of 1921.

The Greenwood Chamber of Commerce is hosting its own event, the Greenwood Centennial Marketplace Showcase, May 28-30, which will include live music, food trucks, an art gallery, and a welcome center at 101 N. Greenwood, on the northeast corner of Greenwood and Archer.

The Black Wall Street Alliance is hosting the Faces of Greenwood Timeline Experience at the Black Wall Street Alliance Art Hall, 100 N. Greenwood (northwest corner of Greenwood and Archer), Saturdays and Sundays, 11 a.m. - 4 p.m., through July 17th.

The Black Panther Movement is sponsoring a National Black Power Convention, May 28-30, featuring a Second Amendment Armed Mass March for Self-Defense on Saturday, May 29, at 4 p.m.

Enjoy your visit. Mourn and celebrate. Learn the history in all of its complexity, a history that didn't stop in 1921.

Sincerely,

Michael Bates

P. S. Members of the community have expressed a desire to add their own messages to this open letter to visitors to Tulsa -- watch this space for those in the coming days.

During the Great Depression, the Federal Works Progress Administration (WPA) and Oklahoma Tax Commission (OTC) commissioned a series of maps in 1936 to document land ownership and taxable value. An example of the maps are shown above. Each map covers a Public Land Survey System (PLSS) township (6 miles by 6 miles, divided into 36 square-mile sections). Approximately 2,300 maps cover the entire state.

Municipalities are marked with heavy shaded boundaries; note that Turley, Dawson, and Alsuma are all still independent, while Red Fork had been recently annexed by Tulsa. Tax-exempt properties are marked with a diagonal cross; if the listed owner is a person's name, it's likely a tribal allotment. If taxable, two numbers are listed: L (land value) and I (improvements value). Areas without valuation may be platted subdivisions -- I notice a bunch of them along US 66 in east Tulsa: Glenhaven, Plain View Heights, Radio Heights, Romoland, Lynn Lane Drive, Indian Hills. Interesting to see some prominent names -- Kennedy and Gilcrease in SE Osage County, L. S. Robson and C. S. Avery in what's now east Tulsa, Waite Phillips around Southern Hills, Charles Page and the Sand Springs Home around Sand Springs, Mullendore in Osage and Washington counties.

Some of the Tulsa County maps include part of Osage County. The township, range, and section grid for the Osage Reservation is offset from the rest of the state. It is shifted about 1/4 mile south and 1/2 mile east of the rest of the state.

On maps of T19N townships, there is a heavy-dashed east-west line about 1/8 mile south and parallel to the N edge of the boundary. This is the Creek/Cherokee boundary, which continues west as the Osage/Creek boundary and then the southern boundary of the Cherokee Outlet. East of Lewis Ave in Tulsa this line is Admiral Place, while Archer Ave is the section and township line. You may have noticed that it's farther from Pine to Admiral than from Admiral to 11th Street -- that's why.

Browsing through one of the Osage County maps, covering an area west of Hominy that included Boston Pool, I discovered the location of 200 acres of land that my great-grandfather had owned in 1936, which led me to do more research at the Osage County Clerk's office back in February 2017.

The Tulsa County General Highway Map, Sheet 2, from 1937, shows Tulsa, Sand Springs, Turley, Dawson, and Red Fork, T20N R12E, T19N R11E, T19N R12E, which will provide some context for the WPA maps.

OSU's Oklahoma Digital Map Collection has the entire collection of WPA land maps for Oklahoma online.

BREAKING: After typing up this entry, I just discovered that someone has created a interactive, georeferenced mosaic of all the Oklahoma WPA maps, which also allows you to download maps of interest. This will be useful for locating lost and drowned municipalities, like Keystone, Antwine, Lugert, Centralia, and Hochatown. You can adjust the transparency of the WPA maps, allowing you to overlay it on a present-day satellite view.

Here are the Tulsa County maps, starting at the north end of the county and working west to east in rows.

• T22N R12E (126th St N to 186th St N; 81st West Ave to Peoria, far north Tulsa County and part of Osage County around Skiatook)
• T22N R13E (126th St N to 186th St N; Peoria to Mingo, far north Tulsa County between Skiatook and Collinsville)
• T22N R14E (126th St N to 186th St N; Mingo to 193rd East Ave, far north Tulsa County around Collinsville)


• T21N R12E (66th St N to 126th St N; 81st St West to Peoria; Sperry and vicinity)
• T21N R13E (66th St N to 126th St N; Peoria to Mingo; between Sperry and Owasso)
• T21N R14E (66th St N to 126th St N; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; Owasso and vicinity)


• T20N R12E (Archer to 66th St N; 81st West Ave to Peoria; southeast Osage County, north Tulsa, Turley)
• T20N R13E (Archer to 66th St N; Peoria to Mingo; north Tulsa, Dawson, Mohawk Park, airport)
• T20N R14E (Archer to 66th St N; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; northeast Tulsa)


• T19N R10E (Edison to 61st St S; 273rd West Ave to 177th West Ave; far west Tulsa County)
• T19N R11E (Edison to 61st St S; 177th West Ave to 81st West Ave; Sand Springs, Prattville, and vicinity)
• T19N R12E (Edison to 61st St S; 81st West Ave to Peoria; west Tulsa, Red Fork, Sand Springs, Berryhill; heavy dashed line is the Cherokee/Creek & Osage/Creek boundary)
• T19N R13E (Archer to 61st St S; Peoria to Mingo; midtown Tulsa; heavy dashed line is the Cherokee/Creek boundary at Admiral Place)
• T19N R14E (Archer to 61st St S; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; east Tulsa; heavy dashed line is the Cherokee/Creek boundary at Admiral Place)


• T18N R12E (61st St S to 121 St S; 33rd West Ave to Peoria; southwest Tulsa in Jenks school district, west Jenks)
• T18N R13E (61st St S to 121 St S; Peoria to Mingo; Jenks, south Tulsa, north Bixby)
• T18N R14E (61st St S to 121 St S; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; Broken Arrow, Union and vicinity)


• T17N R12E (121st St S to 181 St S; 33rd West Ave to Peoria; Glenpool and vicinity)
• T17N R13E (121st St S to 181 St S; Peoria to Mingo; Bixby and vicinity)
• T17N R14E (121st St S to 181 St S; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; Wealaka (Leonard) and vicinity, south Broken Arrow)


• T16N R12E (181st St S to 241 St S; 81st West Ave to Peoria; south Tulsa County, north Okmulgee County)
• T16N R13E (181st St S to 241 St S; Peoria to Mingo; south Tulsa County, north Okmulgee County)
• T16N R14E (181st St S to 241 St S; Mingo to 193rd East Ave; south Tulsa County, north Okmulgee County)

As we approach the centennial commemoration of the Tulsa Race Massacre at the end of this month, I was curious to look through contemporaneous records to learn more about the times in which it occurred.

On page 6 of the May 1, 1921, edition of the Tulsa Sunday World, there's a story about a $473,600 lawsuit brought by jewelry store owner Moescha Rosenberg against Sinclair Oil and Gas, owners of the building in which his store was located. On March 15, 1918, Rosenberg entered into a 10-year-lease for retail space on the northwest corner of the building, sitting right on the highly visible southeast corner of 5th and Main in downtown Tulsa, at the junction of two streetcar lines. His rent was $400 a month. According to 1919 and 1921 city directories, the shop was called Montrose Jewelry Company, located at 2 East 5th Street. Ads for the store, sometimes called "Montrose of New York" or "The Montrose Shop," appeared often in the papers, particularly in the run-up to Christmas.

According to Rosenberg, not long after he leased the space, Sinclair employees began harassing him to get him to leave. First, a company official, C. E. Crawley, "offered to buy his stock if he would give up his lease. When he refused he says that the company made threats to add two stories to the building and permanently close up the entrance which he was using." Then Sinclair employees cut the lights to the store at night, and he lost his insurance policy, which required the lights to be on all night, and that forced him to operate without insurance. After an automobile crashed into the shop window, Sinclair boarded it up and refused to replace it with new glass, and refused to let him put in "sectional glass." When Rosenberg put a sign on the boards saying that he was still open for business, the building superintendent tore it down. When Rosenberg hired two clerks to work for him, Sinclair claimed that he was subletting the space in violation of his lease and sought a court order to evict him; Rosenberg got an injunction to get the company to leave him alone. Finally, about two months earlier (late March 1921), he gave up, dismantled his store fixtures (worth $16,000), liquidated his stock at a loss of $75,000, and then vacated with seven years remaining on his lease. Rosenberg's lawsuit demand for compensation included his estimated $50,000 per year income on the remainder of his lease. Rosenberg claimed that the space would now have a rent of $2,000 per month. (The city directory for the following year, 1922, shows the Suzanne Shop, milliners, in the space at 2 East 5th.)

The situation has the appearance of a landlord trying to force out a tenant in hopes of either charging higher rents or providing a prime location to a better-connected tenant or both.

Rosenberg's case went all the way to the Oklahoma Supreme Court. The details of the case are not available online, and the ruling is terse, but it appears that Rosenberg prevailed in District Court, Sinclair appealed to the Supreme Court, and Rosenberg failed to file an answer to the appeal. The Supreme Court reversed the trial court and remanded the case "with directions to sustain [Sinclair's] demurrer to the petition." I was unable to find a newspaper story on the final disposition, but it appears that Rosenberg's cause was lost. The case has an entry in Pacific Reporter, Vol. 219, p. 650.

Moescha Rosenberg seems to have been quite a flamboyant businessman. When he was ready to close his shop in Glen Cove, Long Island, in preparation for a move to Tulsa, he placed an ad in the local paper threatening to publish the names of all the customers who had outstanding debts with the store. The story hit the wire services and was published all over the country. From the Long Beach Telegram, December 6, 1917.

IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
Jeweler Collects All His Debts With One Piece in Paper

(Glen Cove, L. I., Cor. New York Times).

Moescha Rosenberg's advertisement in the local paper had its desired effect. He threatened to print today a list of those who owed him money and would not pay. All week and right up to press time Rosenberg was kept busy receipting old bills, and now he says that there is not a resident of this village who owes him a cent. Rosenberg is a jeweler and is closing up his store. Several thousand dollars was due him, and he wanted it before he left town. So he put in the advertisement in which he said: "I shall publish the name and exact address and vocation of each of the aforementioned deadbeats, giving in my usual style a psychological treatise of their character and make-up. The paper goes to press at 10:30 a m., and all who are anxious to have their characters defined in print should not settle their accounts before that time."

Immediately creditors began to appear and pay their bills. Men who had bought engagement rings on credit and others who had purchased presents that they did not care to have published, all paid up promptly, and the jeweler was happy. So today Rosenberg, published an advertisement on "Soiled Linen," in which he said: "There are those who firmly believe that there is no wrong that could not be corrected. That it all depends on the laundry. Some linen must be badly soiled, but all can be cleansed. It depends on how hard one rubs. We are glad to state that not one dollar that was owing to us last week is unpaid today. We do not want to congratulate our friends who paid up, but, rather, ourselves, as good, hard-rubbing launderers."

On December 11, 1917, the Brooklyn Daily Times reported that Rosenberg was leaving the jewelry business to become a pig rancher near Tulsa. I suspect he was joking, perhaps to suggest that he'd be happier dealing with pigs than his deadbeat Long Island customers.

The ex-jeweler who had stores also in Southampton and in Manhattan has disposed of all his business and abandoned his former vocation to conduct a pig ranch which he purchased near the city of Tulsa.

Three months later he had a 10-year lease on a prime space in a new shopping district at the south edge of downtown -- 5th & Main. He first appears in the city directory in 1919, living in rooms at 1408 S. Perryman Ave. Perryman Ave., named for the Muscogee Creek family whose ranch covered much of modern-day Tulsa, ran from 13th Street to 15th Street, and was renamed Carthage Ave. circa 1920 to conform to the city's new alphabetical street name system.

Soon thereafter, on March 16, 1919, Rosenberg, 43, had married Julia Goodman (née Finston), 29. Officiants were Rabbis Morris Teller and M. Himelstein, and the congregation was specified only as "Jewish Faith." At the beginning of 1920, according to census records, the couple lived at 1326 Perryman Avenue, in a building with three other families. On February 26, 1920, they had a son, Arthur Leonard Rosenberg, about whom more later. A 1920 city directory shows the family at 1436 S. Norfolk Ave., in an area demolished in the 1970s for part of the southeast interchange of the Inner Dispersal Loop -- a part that was never built. A daughter, Edna, was born to the couple in 1922. The 1923 city directory shows Mrs Julia Rosenberg at 1432 S. Norfolk, but no Moescha. Moescha's Miami obituary indicates that this is when he moved to Florida. 1436 S. Norfolk Ave. (Lot 2, Block 13, Broadmoor Addition) was purchased by Julia Rosenberg on February 12, 1920, and sold by her to Jacob Rosenberg on April 9, 1923.

In the 1930 census, the whole family turns up in Manhasset, North Hempstead, Long Island. By 1931, Moescha is in the papers again, but now in North Miami, having been robbed by three bandits of $100,000 in jewelry ($37,450 wholesale). His name turned up from time to time in newspapers for Florida's Jewish community. On November 6, 1931, the Jacobean reported that Moescha Rosenberg had returned from Manhasset to his home and had announced the opening of a new jewelry store on Lincoln Road in Miami Beach. In 1935, for Sukkoth (Feast of Booths or Tabernacles), Moescha invited up to a dozen men a day to come to the booth he set up at his home at 1728 Lenox Ave., Miami Beach, to converse with Rabbi Dr. Jacob H. Kaplan "the problems of modern life, such as the invited guest may suggest."

The 1935 Tulsa City Directory places Mrs. Julia Rosenberg once again at 1432 S. Norfolk Ave., with Beulah Cooper occupying the rear of the property (identified elsewhere in the directory as a maid, presumably occupying servants' quarters over the garage), and Mrs. Rose Finston (widow of Julia's brother Mark Finston, who was an executive with Bell Oil & Gas Co.) across the street at 1443 S. Norfolk. Someone named E. Frank Pumphrey lived at 1432 in 1934. Property records show that Rose Finston sold Lot 1, Block 13, Broadmoor Addition to Julia Rosenberg in 1937, who sold it on to Alice Osborn Cain in 1941. The lot had been in the Finston family since 1919. The State of Oklahoma purchased it in 1971 from R. G. & Lena Goodman for the never-built Riverside Expressway connection to the Inner Dispersal Loop.

Court records show that Moescha and Julia were divorced in Miami in 1935. He died on November 16, 1939. From the next day's edition of the Miami Daily News:

MOESCHA ROSENBERG

Funeral services were conducted at 10 a. m. today in the Miami Jewish funeral home by Rabbi Abraham Kellner for Moescha Rosenberg, 74, retired diamond merchant, 1728 Lenox Ave., Miami Beach, who died yesterday. He came to Miami 16 years ago from Tulsa, where he is survived by a son and daughter. Burial was in Woodlawn Park cemetery.

At some point, Julia and the children made their way back to Tulsa, where young Leonard attended Central High School, studied under legendary speech and drama teacher Isabelle Ronan (who also taught Paul Harvey), and graduated in 1937. (That's his senior yearbook photo on the right.) Julia, Leonard, and Edna were at 5 Riverside Drive, New York City, in the 1940 census, at the start of Leonard's long and successful career on Broadway and in radio, film, and television. You might remember him from The Odd Couple or Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? under his stage name, Tony Randall.

The Sinclair Building is in the news again. Having languished for several years under absentee ownership, the Ross Group is renovating it as apartments and retail space. Perhaps they will find a way to commemorate the first tenant of that coveted corner space (and his better-known son).

MORE: "Love, Lennie," a 2016 article in This Land Press by Charles Morrow: A brief biography of Leonard Rosenberg, aka Tony Randall, with a special focus on his Tulsa years and his later TV series, "Love, Sidney." The author's father had been a Central class of '37 classmate of Lennie, as he was known then: "When I asked Dad if they'd been friends, he frowned. 'No, he didn't talk to anybody. He was a snob.'"

TulsaTVMemories has several reminiscences of Tony Randall and his later visits to Tulsa. He spoke at the 1975 dedication of New Kendall Hall, having just learned earlier in the day that his childhood home had been demolished for an expressway. His driver that day, Edwin Fincher, recalls, "He was crushed, then cried, then cursed. He vowed to never come back again & made a horrible scene - live - during his speech on 'progress' in his old hometown, reading the original speech as it was written, but inserting 'remarks'."

A little diversion from all the political stuff: I just came across a fascinating unpublished 1981 interview with Smoky Dacus (1911-2001), the original drummer for Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. The interview was conducted by Scott K. Fish for Modern Drummer magazine. Dacus tells of his early days growing up in Blackwell, Oklahoma, getting recruited to the University of Tulsa to play in the college's dance band, and Bob Wills discovering him and making him the core of the Playboys' distinctive rhythm section. Dacus describes the motivation behind Wills's revolutionary idea of adding drums to a string band, tells about his role models and inspirations as a drummer, and recounts the band's demanding schedule and wild popularity.

After rediscovering the interview, Fish decided to publish the complete transcript; as only short excerpts were used by the magazine.

Here are direct links to the three parts of the interview:

• Smokey Dacus: Pioneer of Western Swing Drumming: Pt. 1
• Smokey Dacus: Pioneer of Western Swing Drumming: Pt. 2
• Smokey Dacus: Pioneer of Western Swing Drumming: Pt. 3

Here's a great anecdote about Bob Wills's habit of breaking meter when singing or playing fiddle:

A while ago I mentioned Earl Hines. Well, Bob loved Blues tunes. Earl Hines' recording of Rosetta was absolutely one of my tops. Bob decided he wanted to learn Rosetta. This was getting up in 1937 or 8, you know. Bob had a great big two-story house. All his family lived with him. All of his sisters and brothers, and Aunt Lou [sp.?] and Uncle Peak [sp.?] -- the whole bunch. So he had to have a great big house. We'd go out to Bob's and rehearse on a night. Like we were off -- which had to be like a Sunday night or something -- if we hadn't played a theater someplace that day.

So, okay. Bob wanted me to bring my old 78 of Earl Hines Rosetta. Bob lived right on the Northwest corner of Second and Peoria in Tulsa. Now, right straight across the corner on the Southeast was one of these little, long, one-story grocery stores. Just a flat roof.

So, okay. I brought my record and Bob played it. He's learning the words and the melody and all. But he kept breaking meter. When he'd sing, "Rosetta-aaaa," he'd hold it too long. After about 30-minutes of that I couldn't stand it anymore. I'd been [with the band] about three years then. I went over to the phonograph machine and I took that 78 of Earl Hines off there and I started to the front door.

I said, "Bob, you've got the right to play anything you want to play. But you do not have the right to mutilate!" And I walked out on the front porch and I sailed that 78 catty-corner across the street and it come down on top of that grocery store over there. We laugh about it yet. As far as we know it's still laying up there. He just wasn't going to tear old Earl Hines' band up like that.

SKF: Did he ever get it right?

SD: No!

SKF: He never did?

SD: Never did. And he never got it the same way twice! There's 32 bars. A standard chorus. Depending on how big a breath he got when he'd sing, "Rosetta-aaaa," it might wind up with 31 bars. The next night it might wind up 31-and-a-half. And the next time we played it -- it might wind up 33 and-a-half. Our piano player, Al Stricklin, tells this story in is book, My Years with Bob Wills.

That's an interesting piece of Tulsa history -- Bob's address at 2nd and Peoria, in the same neighborhood where, five blocks away, Paul Harvey was a high schooler and embarking on his own radio career.

There are a few transcription errors that come from Fish's lack of familiarity with people and places Dacus mentions. "O. W. Mayall" is O. W. Mayo, and I'm pretty sure "Poplar City" is Ponca City, which is not far from Dacus's hometown.

BONUS: After the jump (if you're on the homepage), a video interview by Jack Frank with Smokey Dacus and rhythm guitarist Eldon Shamblin at Cain's Ballroom, home of the Texas Playboys:

It's cringe-worthy. Some persons, apparently with the permission of the Tulsa County Public Facilities Authority, painted the Tesla logo on the chest of the Golden Driller, and painted the name Tesla on his belt buckle, over the word Tulsa. If that weren't bad enough, used some kind of wrap to cover the statue's face to turn it pale, almost white, to try match the appearance of Tesla chairman Elon Musk's pale, square face.

Images of this work began circulating on social media on Tuesday, May 19, 2020, and many people thought it was some kind of lame photo-manipulation meme. At 2 pm on Wednesday, Tulsa Mayor G. T. Bynum IV led an "unveiling" of the modified statue -- unveiling consisting of a big white sheet (twin size, if the Golden Driller had a bed) held by two cranes in front of the statue, then dropped on cue.

Meanwhile someone created a webpage called bigf***ingfield.com, urging Musk to locate his new "cybertruck gigafactory" in Tulsa.

While some Tulsans on social media applauded the effort, many more expressed emotions ranging from amusement to dismay at these gestures which were endorsed by our city's leaders, describing the promotions as cringe-inducing, pathetic, needy, and desperate. Some thought the Tesla logo on the Golden Driller was reasonable, but the Elon Musk mask was just creepy. (It reminded me of fictional TV celebrity Alan Partridge's visit to an obsessed fan's home.)

All this was triggered by a story in TechCrunch on May 15:

Tesla officials visited two sites in Tulsa, Oklahoma this week to search for a location for its future and fifth gigafactory that will produce its all-electric Cybertruck and Model Y crossover, a source familiar with the situation told TechCrunch.

Company representatives also visited Austin. A final decision has not been made, but Austin and Tulsa are among the finalists, according to multiple sources. The AP also reported Tulsa and Austin as top picks for the gigafactory.

It was earlier last week that Musk, frustrated by CCP Bat Virus-related restrictions in Alameda County, California, threatened to move the Fremont factory and Tesla headquarters out of California. On May 9th, Musk tweeted:

Tesla is filing a lawsuit against Alameda County immediately. The unelected & ignorant "Interim Health Officer" of Alameda is acting contrary to the Governor, the President, our Constitutional freedoms & just plain common sense!

Frankly, this is the final straw. Tesla will now move its HQ and future programs to Texas/Nevada immediately. If we even retain Fremont manufacturing activity at all, it will be dependen on how Tesla is treated in the future. Tesla is the last carmaker left in CA.

Neither Texas nor Nevada have an income tax, and Tesla already has a gigafactory east of Reno where batteries for its vehicles are manufactured.

I have the sneaking suspicion that rumors of Tulsa being considered were designed to frighten the City of Austin and the State of Texas into sweetening the deal. When a company comes to a vendor right before a deadline and asks for a quote, it's often an indication that the company has already selected another vendor for the work, but needs a competing quote to satisfy internal policies or as leverage to improve the preferred vendor's bid. The result is a lot of activity and expense with little realistic hope of a good result.

Several people have noticed the interesting timing of City of Tulsa's spat with Navistar IC Bus, the bus manufacturer that operates in Air Force Plant No. 3. The plant, used for building bombers during World War II, has a footprint of about 1.3 million square feet. Tesla's Nevada factory has a footprint of 1.9 million sq. ft.

When I was a young man, I learned the hard way that, contrary to TV shows and movies and the poetry we read in English class, wearing one's heart on one's sleeve, declaring one's undying and complete devotion to one's beloved, is not an effective courtship strategy. The object of such attention is apt to respond with indifference, pity, or revulsion. Those who went about their lives with confidence and purpose, without regard to the impression they made on the opposite sex, were far more successful with the opposite sex.

In 1908, a five-car train carrying 113 Tulsans, including a brass band, went around the northeastern and midwestern US on a two-week excursion to promote the city to potential businesses and residents. The Booster Train's itinerary included St. Louis, Indianapolis, Louisville, Cincinnati, Washington, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, Des Moines, and Kansas City. They were welcomed heartily everywhere they went. One participant, C. W. Deming, told the Tulsa Democrat upon their arrival home:

We arrived on fairly good time in all cities, unloaded ourselves, 113 strong, lined up behind the band and marched through the streets. Six or eight of us would walk along the sidewalks with an arm load of the special issue of the Booster [a daily paper printed on board the train] for every town we visited, throwing them in doors, mingled with the people and handed them papers out right and left through the large crowds which blocked the sidewalks and street crossings.

The Tulsa Boosters didn't go pleading with businesses to move to the city or trying to bribe them with incentive payments. They didn't focus flattery on Eastern kingpins in hopes of winning their investment. The Tulsa Boosters projected confidence and pride in their city, which had grown in eight years from a population of 1,313 to about 16,000. They touted the availability of energy for manufacturing. They brought an exhibition car to demonstrate the natural resources of the city and its environs. From page 3 of the April 20, 1908, New York Sun:

Out of alfalfa growing knee high in the exhibition car of their own private train..., more than 100 representative citizens of Tulsa, the greatest town of Oklahoma -- ask them! -- stepped upon the soil of Jersey and walked as quickly as possible to the ferryboat which was to give them an Easter morning glimpse of New York....

Alfalfa isn't the only thing growing in the car of the special train over in Jersey City. Whole branches of cherry trees are there, with cherries as big as they ought to be in April growing on them, branches cut from the trees a week ago whose fruit shows, as the Tulsans say, that the cherries left on the trees in Tulsa will be ripe and waiting for them when they reach home again in ten days more. Besides these there are samples of all the woods of the Tulsa region of Oklahoma and samples of the limestone, the shale and the other natural ingredients of Tulsan success and prosperity, and also photographs showing what a town situated on ten railroads can do in the way of growing in six years of lifetime. ...

The excursion is really a big one for Tulsa, more than a hundred of her business and professional men leaving their occupations and paying their share of a $25,000 or $30,000 trip of 3,500 miles for the purpose of bringing Tulsa to the world's notice and the hope of bringing the world to Tulsa. Tulsa buys of New York merchants, to be sure, but she buys mainly through St. Louis, Chicago and Kansas City branches or houses. Her business men feel that they might do better for themselves and better for New York also if they could deal direct with the metropolis.

This they desire to bring about to some degree if they can get acquainted to-day with Broadway -- the business part of Broadway. They also want to tell people that Tulsa can furnish 200,000,000 feet of natural gas every twenty-four hours at two cents per foot [per thousand feet, according to other stories] for manufacturing concerns which might find it convenient to establish there branches to take care of the great Southwestern trade.

It would be a great thing for Tulsa to gain a few thousand manufacturing jobs, but pathetic, needy, creepy gestures will not impress those who are selecting the site. So many of the people I've seen expressing enthusiasm for the Elon Musk mask on the Golden Driller or the vulgarly named website are also among those who frequently express shame and embarrassment about Oklahoma and our state's church-going ways. They seem to hope that Musk and company will come here to transform Tulsa into a progressive paradise, rather than to benefit from our conservative character. Perhaps that makes it hard for them simply to be dignified and confident in what our city and state has to offer.

Tulsa's leaders should emulate their predecessors from a century ago: Make Tulsa the best Tulsa we can be (not San Francisco or New York City or even Austin) and be confident enough in what we have to offer that we simply let the world know what they can find here, rather than grovelling in hopes of becoming something different.

MORE: The American Oil & Gas Historical Society has an article on the evolution of the Golden Driller, including the earlier, very different 1953 and 1959 versions for the International Petroleum Exposition (IPE). The present-day driller was built in 1966 alongside the permanent 9-acre IPE Building. This Land Press published the story of the permanent Golden Driller and its Greek immigrant designer, George Hondronastas. In dire shape, with a hole in his boot, the Driller escaped the wrecking ball and was refurbished in 1979.

Tulsa Gal, Atlas Obscura, Roadside America, and Wikipedia all have articles on the statue. Mental Floss ties the story of the Golden Driller into Tulsa's history as Oil Capital of the World. The Tulsa World has the story of Spooky, the cat who was rescued from the statue in 1976, at a time when the statue's skin was flimsier than it is now. Kent Schnetzler has posted a May 1966 photo of the Golden Driller, taken by his father, Robert Schnetzler, which shows the original, thinner shell of the statue, with the rebar grid clearly visible.

A scale replica of the Golden Driller stands in front of a 216 ft free-fall ride of the same name in Fraispertuis City amusement park in the historic province of Lorraine, in the northeast of France.

Remember when we voted on the Vision Tulsa package in 2016? Did you know you were voting to demolish Gilcrease Museum and build a smaller one in its place? Me, neither. But it was announced last month that demolition is what we're getting for our money. The historic 134,000-square-foot facility will be torn down and replaced with an 89,000-square-foot building that will, we are promised, have better storage conditions for artifacts and more display space.

In 2016, City of Tulsa residents voted for a package that included $65 million for renovation of the main building of the Thomas Gilcrease Institute of American History and Art, to better house the priceless collection of artwork and artifacts of the American West, a collection that the citizens of Tulsa purchased from oilman Thomas Gilcrease using a bond issue in 1954. Gilcrease bequeathed additional collections to the city upon his death. Tulsa citizens have continued to support the museum with taxpayer dollars.

According to the Gilcrease web page about Vision Tulsa, there are $73.6 million in public funds available for the rebuilding project, plus a $10 million donation from the A.R. and Marylouise Tandy Foundation. But another web page states that "Gilcrease Museum's managing partner, The University of Tulsa, is committed to raising an additional $50 million in private funds for an endowment to ensure the long-term sustainability of museum operations." You can well imagine the strings that will come attached to funds raised by GKU.

It was chilling to learn that the museum's executive director is former city councilor Susan Neal, an ardent opponent of historic preservation during her time as an elected official and as an aide to Mayor Kathy Taylor. In 2006, Neal pushed for watering down the CORE recommendations for downtown historic preservation, recommendations which were ultimately shelved. You can read my overview of Neal's political career in my report on the 2014 opening of Gilcrease's Helmerich Center for American Research.

Not only do I distrust Neal for her previous political behavior, it's worrisome that she serves in dual roles as Gilcrease executive director and as Vice President for Public Affairs at the University of Tulsa. In 2017, Neal was named as executive director not by the governing body of the owners of Gilcrease Museum and collection, but by then-University of Tulsa president Gerry Clancy, part of the public-private partnership deal enacted when Kathy Taylor was mayor in 2008 and extended for another decade by Dewey Bartlett Jr. in 2014.

In other words, Tulsa's priceless art collection is at the mercy of a failing university that has just undergone a hostile takeover and whose faculty is still in revolt.

The claimed reason for the City of Tulsa taking on TU as "managing partner" is the university's "nationally recognized academic expertise in western American history, art history, anthropology, and archaeology." Under TU's "True Commitment" plan, it will not be possible to earn a Master's in history, a Ph.D. in anthropology or archaeology, or to major in art history.

It's easy to imagine TU and its major donors using the leverage of the management partnership and the proposed $50 million to relocate the museum (to the Gathering Place, perhaps, or the TU campus), or to eliminate politically incorrect artwork (anything by white people depicting Native Americans, for example) and artifacts (e.g., the 1777 copy of the racist Declaration of Independence and Articles of Confederation), to so entangle the collection with TU and their management and donors that the citizens of Tulsa will never be able to reassert control over the museum and the collection.

Maybe everything will work out wonderfully, but my anxiety for Gilcrease comes from experience: Our city government has a terrible record when it comes to caring for our heritage and history, and for those of us who have been around for a while, it's chilling to see the likes of Susan Neal, an opponent of historic preservation during her time on the City Council, in a position of authority over this priceless collection. TU's role in Gilcrease is another source of concern, particularly with the recent conquest of TU's board. The Gilcrease collection was purchased by the City of Tulsa for the citizens of Tulsa; I am wary of the involvement of third parties who are unaccountable to the voters.

Tulsa's elected officials need to reassert the citizens' control over our priceless treasure and cut all ties with TU. If the current mayor and councilors won't do it, we need to elect new officials who will.

It's a commonplace sentiment among fans of streetcars that a cabal of car and tire manufacturers bought out city streetcar systems one by one and shut them down, replacing the wonderful old PCC trolley cars with diesel-belching buses. In reality, there were many factors undermining the popularity and financial feasibility of streetcars: Municipal governments fixed the fares too low for franchisees to make a profit; jitneys competed with streetcars for passengers, offering faster and more comfortable service; the automobile became more affordable, fueling urban growth beyond the reach of the trolley systems. This last factor was the nail in the coffin: More and more people were driving automobiles, the streetcars were blocking traffic, and the tracks were damaging autos.

For example, in the May 26, 1922, edition of the Tulsa World, reader A. E. Stephens complains in a letter to the editor about the decrepit state of the roads leading into Tulsa. Stephens' bitterest complaint is reserved for North Peoria Avenue:

Entering from the north we have for the welcome of out-of-town visitors, the Avenue of Horrors, or our North Peoria street sinkhole, with the only spot where driving is possible, taken up by our antedeluvian relic, the Tulsa Street railway, with rails protruding 4 to 12 inches above the other part of the street. The Avenue of Horrors also takes visitors through the Plunge of Death, or the Peoria Street viaduct under the Frisco railway.

Maps show the TSR tracks extending along Peoria from King Street to 1st Street, where it joined the Kendall branch on the way into downtown. Stephens also complained about the Third Street viaduct over the Frisco tracks, the main route into Tulsa from Sand Springs, "which is a very narrow, roughly paved street and also infested with our old eyesore, the decrepit Tulsa Street railway."

Gil Propp grew up in Brookline, Mass., between the B and C line of the MBTA Green Line streetcar network. His curiosity about some oddities -- the lack of an A line, discrepancies between old and new maps about the E line -- led him to research the history and evolution of the MBTA's streetcar system. A few years ago he turned his research into a short film called "Streetcar Tracks: A Reconstruction of Boston's Lost Streetcar Empire." The film and its script are available for viewing on bostonstreetcars.com, and you can view "Streetcar Tracks" directly on YouTube.

Propp has also posted many detailed articles on the site about the individual lines in the Boston fixed-rail transit system and the slow consolidation of the network and elimination of streetcar lines to the system we see today. The article "Why Are There Still Streetcars in Boston?" offers a compelling explanation for the survival of a handful of lines -- and why so many others disappeared: "The answer is simple: they have private right-of-ways that lead to subways."

The extension of subway tunnels prior to World War II allowed three streetcar lines (B, C, and E) to avoid busy intersections like Kenmore Square. After surfacing, the three lines also had reserved right-of-ways down the middle of Commonwealth Ave., Beacon Street, and Huntington Ave., respectively. Only the E line did not have a reserved right-of-way for its full length, and at the end of 1985, service was cut back to the end of the reserved right-of-way at Heath St. The fourth currently operating branch, the D line to Riverside, is on a former steam railway line that was linked into the subway tunnels. While the A line to Watertown also connected to the subway tunnels, it was street-running all the way, impeding car traffic. In Cambridge, there had been street-running trolleys that fed into the subway via an incline at Harvard Square. These were replaced with trackless trolley buses that used the same overhead wires but could pull to the curb for loading passengers, while the underground tracks were converted from overhead trolley wires to third-rail operation.

One other Boston streetcar line has survived: The Mattapan High Speed line, which runs in a private right-of-way, not parallel to any street and thus not easily bustituted, and provides a connection to the Ashmont branch of the Red Line. This is the last line of the MBTA that runs the old PCC cars -- when I was in college they also ran on the C and E branches of the Green Line.

I have often wondered how Tulsa's streetcar system might have evolved had it and the city begun 20 years earlier. I suspect there would have been at least two cut-and-cover subways through downtown -- one along Main Street and another along 3rd Street, with other east-west streetcar lines being rerouted to take advantage. That might have kept the Oklahoma Union Traction interurban to Sapulpa (now the Tulsa Sapulpa Union Railway) and the Sand Springs Railway interurban, both of which had dedicated right-of-ways outside of downtown. Perhaps a dedicated right-of-way along 3rd or 11th Streets would have been built to maintain service to the east.

After I posted my tribute in memory of Bob Gregory, I received an email from his son, Jason Pitcock, who included a copy of the eulogy he wrote for his dad and delivered at his service. What an amazing life he led! Like Bob Gregory's work, Jason's tribute to his father leaves me delighted by a story well told, better informed, and yet wanting to know more about the subject. With Jason's kind permission, I'm republishing it here.

I'm tickled to read that The Sports Buff was a regular haunt of his. It was a sports memorabilia store that was located in the shopping center that stood on the north side of 51st east of Harvard (demolished during I-44 widening). The Sports Buff was where you went to get authentic Major League Baseball caps and other sports fan apparel, as well as books and cards, when there wasn't another store like it in Tulsa. (I've got a Cardinals jacket and hat from The Sports Buff, and I liked to pick up the annual NCAA Football preview. Somewhere I've got the OU media guide with Billy Sims on the cover for his senior year, wishing for a second Heisman Trophy.)

"Dry your pretty eyes / And let me have a smile / Think how it's gonna be / When we're together again..." Lyrics from the musical "Applause." Dad loved Broadway.

Robert Bruce Pitcock, later Bob Gregory, was born in Fort Smith, Arkansas in 1931. He was Bobby to his six siblings, his mother, Leona, his father, Reves, and his stepfather, J.B. The Great Depression hit hard in the early years. But dad and his beloved little sister, Betsy, often reflected, "It was tough on everyone and we always had family. We had each other."

In the early 1940s, dad and older brother, Billy, would take the bus out to Camp Chaffee, a nearby army base, to shine soldiers' boots. One pair got you ten cents. Everything back then was measured in nickels and dimes - hamburgers, cokes, movie tickets. And dad never adjusted for inflation. World War II, an event that imbued his life, was in full swing. A lifelong passion for newspapers was born.

After the war, at the age of seventeen, he enlisted in the U.S. Army. He served between World War II and the Korean War. And his father, Reves, barely averted combat in World War I. He was on a train in 1918 headed to fight in Europe when the Allies and Germany signed the armistice. Dad knew full well that life, as John Cheever wrote, is a "collision of contingencies."

He felt duty-bound to serve. He also knew that joining offered a chance to make his own way in the world. But it wasn't easy. Basic training in the freezing cold. Family thousands of miles away and no trips homes for the holidays. Letters and Western Union telegrams sustained him. He credited army buddies, many from the east coast, with broadening his horizons. Jocko McDermott, Augie Carlino, Russ Sarami, George McReynolds - his band of brothers. Stationed in Alaska, they were purportedly training for ski patrol. But dad, half-joking, would say, "we couldn't have taken Aspen." Always witty and ready with a quip.

In the service, he took an interest in jazz, tried Pabst Blue Ribbon, shot dice, and played cards. After a hot streak one night, he wired most of the winnings to family in Arkansas.

Dad kept a pocket edition of Shakespeare in his army fatigues and studied as duties allowed. He was self-taught. His trademark elocution and diction were the result of diligence, insatiable curiosity, love of language, and a burning desire to excel. A gifted pitcher, he was a star on the baseball team. And in order to rest his arm before starts, the commanding officer exempted him from "KP" duty. A professional baseball scout later expressed interest only to rebuffed, "I'm going to be an actor."

One evening in the barracks, inspired by a radio disk jockey spinning Stan Kenton records, he resolved, "that's what I'm going to do." And man, did he do it. His persistence won over doubters. Told repeatedly by a station manager back in Fort Smith that no positions were available, dad sought permission simply to observe, without pay. The manager relented and for the next six months, aged nineteen, he showed up every day, watched, waited. Finally, he got the job he dreamed of. The deep voice, the cadence, the delivery; dad was a natural.

Several years later, as television was in its infancy, he transitioned to that medium. Telegenic, articulate, hungry, he cut his teeth in Arkansas and Tulsa. His buddies in those days were Gary Chew and Hal Balch. In 1967, one year after he married the love of his life - our beautiful, kind, sweet, selfless mother - his biggest professional break came. It was a pivotal moment. Bill Small, CBS Washington Bureau Chief, called Tulsa. Come on up to the network. Without hesitation, off to the nation's capital they went, baby Kendall, just months old, in tow.

Walter Cronkite anchored the evening news at the time, a tumultuous period in American history. Eric Sevareid, one of Edward R. Murrow's "Boys," was a mentor. Dad worshipped him. Dan Rather, Roger Mudd, and Bruce Morton were among his colleagues.

When Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated, dad received word from headquarters, 2020 M Street in Georgetown. He took an early morning taxi out to Hickory Hill, the Kennedy family compound in McLean, Virginia, to cover the story. Positioned on the lawn, dad was moved that Ethel Kennedy - grieving, distraught widow - brought out coffee and pastries for the press. Crooner Andy Williams was on hand to comfort the clan and donned monogramed slippers.

Dad saw Martin Luther King preach at the National Cathedral two weeks before his assassination. And after King was shot, he was at the White House and delivered the news to President Johnson's aide. Days later, as riots broke out on 14th Street in the Northwest DC, his cameraman was hit in the head by a protestor's bottle and the two fled to safety on a motorcycle. Soon after that he was with LBJ in the Texas hill country. Johnson wielded a pocketknife and tossed freshly sliced peaches to the assembled reporters, alternately fielding questions and telling folksy tales with that heavy drawl.

Dad, an ardent New Deal Democrat, interviewed President Nixon on numerous occasions and maintained that, politics aside, he was among the most charming, engaging men he'd ever met. He would say the same of Ronald Reagan, governor of California when they first crossed paths. There are hundreds more of these stories. Dad relished telling them. He never paused or failed to recall the slightest detail. The man spoke in complete paragraphs of lapidary prose.

Mom, dad, and Kendall left DC in 1970. He remembered the Cherry Blossom trees in full bloom along the Tidal Basin as they headed for Tulsa. They settled in. Scotty was born that year and dad began a 14-year run at KTUL, Channel 8, under James C. Leake. At the time, Leake also owned KATV in Little Rock, where little brother, Jimmy, would become a star. Dad wore it as a badge of honor. "Jimmy built that station," he would boast. It was the same with his older brother, Billy, who anchored at KOTV, Channel 6, in Tulsa. "Everyone loved your uncle. Mr. 10 o'clock."

Bob Gregory's documentaries and special features at KTUL won dozens of awards. The "Oil in Oklahoma" series, and companion book, were a sensation. For that program, he traveled to England to interview J. Paul Getty at his Wormsley Park estate. "I know people say he was a bastard but I found him fascinating," he'd say.

Dad's encounters were legion and legendary. Dinner with Menachem Begin at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem after the Six-Day War; a chat with Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco; a few minutes with Steve McQueen in Texas on the set of The Getaway, the Sam Peckinpah film co-starring Ali MacGraw (he'd gone down to interview cowboy actor and Pawhuska native, Ben Johnson); and over the course of just one weekend out in early Las Vegas with Balch, they hit a trifecta: catching a glimpse of Arnold Palmer on the golf course, receiving a warm "hello, boys!" from a tuxedoed Frank Sinatra in the lobby of the Sands Hotel, and watching Dean Martin lay thousands at the blackjack table.

In the 1970s in Tulsa, dad found his way into a loosely assembled quartet of creative camaraderie: Gailard Sartain, the actor and painter; Jay Cronley, the sportswriter and novelist; and Darcy O'Brien, the professor and author, who'd gone to Princeton only because F. Scott Fitzgerald had, and whose parents were Hollywood royalty in 1930s. Is it any wonder, then? They convened over drinks at Cognito Inn, Little Joe's, and the Tulsa Press Club. Lots of laughs, sure, but it wasn't all light banter. They loved books and movies and the art of the conversation. Dad treasured those times and reminisced often.

So many large personalities and famous names. So many momentous occasions and interviews in faraway places. But this was only the more public side of the man.

What we'll cherish most, what we'll miss most, is the lesser-known side. Birmingham Avenue has been home for almost 50 years. He loved it. Growing up, kids in the neighborhood enjoyed dad's many kindnesses. The Saturday runs were a particular treat. Cliff, Jonathan, Stemmons, Bandy, Jay Reed, cousin Marc. We'd load into the burgundy Cadillac and make the rounds: QuikTrip, B. Dalton books, the Sports Buff, Coney Islander. Dad savored every minute.

His bedroom was part-library, part-newsroom, part-shrine; signed photos adorned the walls. Stacks of newspapers and magazines. The seemingly scattered books were in fact organized, his way. At one point, he had three televisions on his desk. One for news, one for sports, and one for Turner Classic Movies. When the sports world was quiet, two were for news. For big occasions, the Oscars or Oklahoma Sooners football, he would join us in the den. There was the favorite lounge chair on the back patio. "I need some color," he'd say on sunny days. New York Times in hand and music playing, always.

I never once heard him say the words, "I'm bored." He found abundant joy in the simple things. He loved rain. "Listen, Jay. Isn't it great?" he'd gush, as the drops began to fall. The colors of the trees. The roaring fireplace in the living room. Homegrown tomatoes from his small garden in the backyard. Taking a photo of a red cardinal perched on a branch at the perfect moment.

In the old days, when he hauled us to Colorado Springs and Santa Fe for summer vacations, he took pictures of us - and of the West - with a Pentax. But after sister Betsy one year sent as a gift a digital camera, he photographed everything in sight. Flash drives replaced rolls of film. Thousands of moments - frozen in time. Family meals usually meant dozens of candid, mid-bite shots, our mouths full of food. He got a real kick out of it. And even as he slowed down, energy flagging, we still took him on drives so he could observe and capture nature.

Trivia contests were a mainstay of family dinners. Featured topics: The Golden Age of Hollywood, literature, history. Subjects he'd long ago mastered. He read avidly and his mind was a vault. Politics, war, biography. He was encyclopedic. A dear friend offered this astute and comforting appraisal: "Your dad, no doubt, lived an incredibly thoughtful and examined life. People are the richer for it."

He was kind. He was gentle. He was funny.

Music was another passion. The Great American Songbook: the Gershwins, Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart, Lerner and Loewe. He knew songs, lyricists, composers, dates. And, oh how he loved those melodies, especially when interpreted by Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Nat Cole. And so many movies: film noir, Westerns. Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck.

As the grandkids came along, the difficulty level of his trivia contests decreased. Dad wanted them involved in the fun, so he crafted questions by researching things he cared very little about. And he closely monitored the kids' progress, delighting in their successes.
Dad was effusive in his praise. He was a fierce advocate, an unwavering supporter. His love was unconditional. He was proud of every single thing we did. And he never played favorites.

All was vicarious when it came to family - the pleasure and the pain. The day Scotty's Columbia University acceptance packet arrived, dad was euphoric. His boy was headed to the Ivy League. Kendall's artistic abilities and gifts as a teacher were an immense source of pride. And I think he enjoyed my time working as a lawyer for the US congress in Washington more than I did. We were in touch constantly. Discussing who was testifying on Capitol Hill or sharing thoughts on the news of the day. He liked to know where I was. The Monocle, The Occidental, The Willard Hotel. His old haunts now were mine.

One afternoon when I lived there, I called home, anxious and upset. He could hear it in my voice. "Get on a plane," he said. "You can be home tonight. I am here for you. You're a great kid."

On the morning of the 9-11 attacks, he was on the phone immediately, as Scotty and Kendall were then living in New York. Kendall alleges that dad broke the story before NBC. The preschool staff where my sister taught, in lower Manhattan, hadn't heard the news but assured him that Kendall was safe.

Six years ago, I visited Antietam, a seminal Civil War battlefield. Standing by Burnside Bridge, I called dad. I listened raptly as he recounted troop movements and tactical blunders. He lamented missed Union opportunities. History was alive. It was September 1862 once again.

Dad was fond of quoting, as he did that day, Lincoln's rejoinder to the feckless, tentative George B. McClellan, "If the General doesn't want to use the army, would he mind if I borrowed it for awhile."

Ever the art enthusiast, dad awaited summaries when we visited museums: The Frick Collection, The Met, The National Gallery. He conveyed his tastes and judgments and in so doing cultivated ours.

For my 26th Birthday, he bought us tickets to see Bobby Short, the virtuoso cabaret singer, perform at The Carlyle Hotel on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Scotty, Kendall, mom, and me. "Come on, dad. Come up and join us." "No," he said, "I've had my day, but call me right after and tell me everything. I mean, everything."

A few days before he died, a hospice nurse paid us the dreaded visit. Dad insisted on shaving, put on a Brooks Brothers button down and his New Yorker baseball cap. After a brief exchange, he said to the nurse, "Thank you, madame, you've been a great help, and we appreciate it very much." Dignified, brave, and courteous to the end.

The Roman poet Horace wrote, "I shall not wholly die, and a great of part of me will escape the grave." I know this is true of dad. He was too big of a presence, too brilliant a mind, too loud a laugher, too adoring of his family, too much a lover of life, to ever really die. He lives on in the photographs, the documentaries, the grandkids he treasured, the memories, and all those beautiful words he wrote, private and published.

We remain very proud of his critically acclaimed biography of Cardinals pitcher Dizzy Dean. The Washington Post's Thomas Boswell said of it, "Put 'Diz' on the short list of baseball's best biographies." Fitting, then, to conclude with that book's final paragraph.
Bob Gregory, our mentor, our hero, my best friend, wrote:

"The funeral was held...and a thousand people came. His favorites were there - the hillbilly singers, football coaches, politicians, and businessmen - and from baseball came Ken Smith...Hank Aaron; and Dean's old Gas House teammate...Joe Medwick. Most of the talk was about Dizzy's accomplishments and all the fun he'd had and the laughs he'd brought to others. Nobody, they said, ever loved baseball more. He was buried near a magnolia tree on a slight mound in the center of the...cemetery, and Medwick said, 'Well, that's the ballgame...'"

I think it was in the spring of 1971 that Casa Bonita Mexican restaurant opened in Tulsa. I remember a girl in my 2nd grade class bringing a map and menu to school for show and tell and talking about how pretty it was and the sopapillas and the treasure room. We were all envious. Map nerd that I have always been, I was intrigued at the idea of a restaurant that had its own map.

My first visit to Casa Bonita was the night before my first day ever at Holland Hall School; I started in 3rd Grade in September 1971. Our immediate family went with my grandfather and some other extended family members. I suspect I had the Pony Plate: Beans, rice, cheese enchilada, taco, and sopapillas. Most of the adults had the Deluxe Dinner. I remember seeing the adults eating some green mushy stuff which looked disgusting. Then we went back to our house and had strawberry shortcake. Later that night, I got sick to my stomach and threw up. I thought it was because of the juxtaposition of guacamole and strawberry shortcake, but I suspect it was nerves at the thought of a new school and new classmates. (I threw up the night before 5th grade and 9th grade, too.)

Going through some old papers I came across the map from that first visit. You'll notice that this was before Casa Bonita's expansion to the south, when they added an arcade and the Acapulco Room.

Here's the map (click for full size):

And here's the menu:

Legendary Tulsa television broadcaster Bob Gregory died earlier this month, November 6, 2019, at the age of 88.

As Vice President for News and Special Projects at KTUL, Gregory wrote, directed, and hosted the popular series of "Oil in Oklahoma" television programs, which aired throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s, received much acclaim, and appeared in book form. He created many other award-winning documentary films and television shows focused on Oklahoma history, politics, and culture. Along the way, he trained or mentored a host of Tulsa-area TV journalists.

Longtime Tulsans might recall that Gregory's older brother, Bill Pitcock, was for more than a decade the evening news anchor at KOTV/Channel 6. His two other brothers, Jim Pitcock and Jerry Pitcock, worked in TV and radio in Little Rock. Gregory was the second of seven children.

An avid reader and gifted writer -- and a born storyteller and tireless researcher -- Gregory was largely self-taught as an interviewer, filmmaker, journalist, and author. Throughout his career, he contributed articles, profiles, and book reviews to Oklahoma Monthly, Tulsa Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, and other publications.

Bob Gregory's documentary series Oil in Oklahoma, which aired when I was a pre-teen, was one of several influences that sparked my lifelong interest in Oklahoma history.

The approach of Oil in Oklahoma was similar to that later used by Ken Burns in his historical miniseries: Photos, film, interviews, narration, and an atmospheric soundtrack with a focus on the larger-than-life characters who shaped Oklahoma's early growth, people like Harry Sinclair, E. W. Marland, W. G. Skelly, Thomas Gilcrease, Waite Phillips, Frank Phillips, and J. Paul Getty.

The book Killers of the Flower Moon has brought the Osage oil murders back to public attention, but viewers of Oil in Oklahoma learned from Bob Gregory a half century ago about the Osage Nation, their sudden oil wealth, and the murders of Osage citizens for their headrights. Two images from that episode stuck in my mind: (1) The photo of an Osage family going around town in style, in a sitting room set up in the back of a glass-sided hearse. (2) A clip of a house exploding from the 1959 Jimmy Stewart movie The FBI Story, which includes a fictionalized retelling of the Osage murders among other important early FBI cases.

Unfortunately, the series predated the home video boom by half a decade, so it was never offered for public purchase, nor are there home off-air VCR recordings circulating.

An episode dealing with the Oklahoma City and Seminole oil fields, edited down to a single commercial-free hour and repackaged for OETA, is available online courtesy of the Oklahoma Historical Society. KTUL news anchor Bob Hower, who referred to the program as "Oklahoma December," a monthly magazine program. My recollection is that Oklahoma City and Seminole were at the end of the series, as they were the last of the big oil discoveries in Oklahoma. This will give you a good sense of the style of the series, along with a strong dose of Bob Gregory's rich, warm baritone.

Part 1:

Part 2:

When people over the age of 50 say that local TV really was better in the 1970s, this is the sort of thing we're talking about. (Along with Mr. Zing and Tuffy, Uncle Zeb, Lee Woodward and Lionel, Don Woods and Gusty, and Mazeppa Pompazoidi's Uncanny Film Festival. See tulsatvmemories.com for all the details.) This is what ownership with deep local roots and a commitment to excellence can produce.

About 2 1/2 years ago, on a whim, I reached out to the Leake Auction Company, founded by James C. Leake, Sr., and the successor to the company that owned KTUL when Oil in Oklahoma was aired. I received a reply from Richard Sevenoaks, Mr. Leake's son-in-law and president of Leake Auction, who wrote, "We have the rights and copies of the programs. But we have been unsuccessful finding a broadcast partner to air the series." I wrote back, asking if he might consider releasing the series on DVD, but never got a reply. I provided his contact info to Bill Perry, VP for content production at OETA, with hopes that the two might talk. I haven't heard anything further from either gentleman.

Since those emails, Leake Auction was sold to Ritchie Bros. in 2018, but Richard and Nancy Sevenoaks continued to operate the business until retiring earlier this year. I would suspect that the family retained all the non-automotive assets of the company, like Oil in Oklahoma. Perhaps in retirement, the Sevenoakses could find a way to make Oil in Oklahoma available to a new generation of Oklahomans. It would not only be a wonderful teaching tool for Oklahoma history, but a fitting memorial tribute both to the vision of James C. Leake and to the storytelling gift of Bob Gregory.

MORE: Read Jason Pitcock's tribute to his dad, Bob Gregory, full of fascinating anecdotes about his life and career.

CORRECTION 2023/07/08: Thanks to newly available archives of Tulsa newspapers, I have learned that Oklahoma: December was the original title of an episode of KTUL's monthly "Oklahoma" series which began in 1970 as a monthly anthology of local feature stories. In 1973, it evolved to become hour-long specials about the men, events, and places in Oklahoma's oil history. Here's my tribute to Oil in Oklahoma on its 50th anniversary.

STILL MORE: The Oklahoma Historical Society has two boxes of Bob Gregory's papers, including scripts from Oil in Oklahoma and Oklahoma Diamond Jubilee episodes, research, and interview transcripts. The catalog entry indicates photographs and film/video as well, but these are not itemized.

Greenwood Ave., north of Easton St., looking north along Sand Springs Railroad interurban tracks toward intersection with Greenwood Pl. and the Del Rio Hotel, which was listed in the 1954-1956 editions of the Green Book.

Mike McUsic, a historical researcher on the topic of the Green Book, the segregation-era travel guide for African-American tourists, will be leading walking tours of the Green Book locations in Tulsa's Greenwood District on November 16 and 23 at 11:00 am. The tour is free (donation requested), with tickets available via Eventbrite.

Mr. McUsic has developed the Green Book Travelers HistoryPin site, locating 1,900 Green Book locations across the country, with names, descriptions, and historic and present-day photos. This link will take you to locations specific to Greenwood.

MORE: Here's a collection of links to BatesLine articles and other resources about Greenwood and Black Wall Street. Earlier this year, I wrote about the Green Book as additional evidence of Greenwood's post-1921 rebuilding and listed the Tulsa Green Book sites still standing.

In March 1994, national radio commentator Paul Harvey, whose thrice-daily broadcasts were carried on over 1400 stations nationwide on the ABC radio network, reaching an audience in the tens of millions, returned to Tulsa to speak at a Salvation Army benefit. After his visit, he spoke on the air about his bittersweet memories of his hometown and his neighborhood and how Tulsa had changed since. I first came across a transcript of his comments back in 2011.

Recently, I dug through old Tulsa Central High School yearbooks to find photos of some of the people he mentioned. With the demolition of his childhood home and what's left of his childhood neighborhood a topic of discussion at a public meeting tomorrow night, it seemed like a good time to revisit Paul's memories of his old stomping grounds.

Over my shoulder a backward glance.

The world began for Paul Harvey in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Ever since I have made tomorrow my favorite day, I've been uncomfortable looking back.

My recent revisit reminded me why. The Tulsa I knew isn't there anymore. And the memories of once-upon-a time are more bitter than sweet.

Of the lawman father I barely knew.

The widowed mother who worked too hard and died too soon. And my sister Frances.

Tulsa was three graves side-by-side.

Recently I came face-to-face with the place where a small Paul Harvey's mother buttoned his britches to his shirt to keep them up and it down.

Tulsa is a copper penny which a small boy from East Fifth Place placed on a trolley track to see it mashed flat.

It's a slingshot made from a forked branch aimed at a living bird, and the bird died, and he cried, and he is still crying.

That little lad was seven when he snapped a rubber band against the neck of the neighbor girl, and pretty Ethel Mae Hazelton ran home crying, and he, lonely, had wanted only to get her to notice him.

Somehow he blamed Tulsa for the war which took his best friend, Harold Collis...

And classmate Fred Markgraf...

And never gave them back.

In Tulsa, Oklahoma, he learned the wages of sin smoking grapevine behind the garage and getting a mouthful of ants.

Longfellow Elementary school is closed now; dark.

Tulsa High is a business building.

The old house at 1014 is in mourning for the Tulsa that isn't there anymore.

It was in that house that a well-meaning mother arranged a surprise birthday party when he was sixteen; invited his school friends, including delicate Mary Betty French without whom he was sure he could not live.

He hated that party for revealing to her and to them his house, so much more modest than theirs.

Tulsa is where the true love of his life waved goodbye to the uniform that climbed aboard a troop train.

She was there waiting when he got back but they could not wait to say goodbye to Tulsa.

Tulsa was watermelon picnics in the backyard and a small Paul blowing taps on his Boy Scout bugle over the fresh grave of a dead kitten.

Tulsa, Oklahoma, used to be the fragrance of honeysuckle on the trellis behind the porch swing.

Mowing for a quarter neighbors' lawns that seemed then so enormous.

Only Tulsa's delicious tap water is as it was.

That and the schoolteachers...

Miss Harp and Miss Smith and Isabelle Ronan. These I am assured are still there somewhere--reincarnated.

In a sleek jet departing Tulsa's vast Spartan Airport at midnight, I closed my eyes and remembered...

When Spartan was a sod strip...

And a crowd gathered...

And a great tin goose landed...

And Slim Lindbergh got out...

And a boy, age nine, was pressing against the restraining ropes daring to foretaste fame--and falling in love with the sky.

No...

The Tulsa I knew isn't there anymore. But it's all right.

A new Tulsa is.

I'll not be afraid to go home again.

I have made friends with the ghosts.

A recording of this commentary hasn't turned up, but his famous speech, "So God Made a Farmer," delivered to a Future Farmers of America conference in 1978 and made into a celebrated Dodge Ram Trucks Super Bowl ad in 2013, will give you a good idea of his pacing and delivery. Those of us who listened to him every day for decades will have no trouble hearing his voice as they read the words above.

Some notes about the people and places Paul Harvey mentioned:

The photos are senior portraits from the Tulsa Central High School Tom-Tom -- the school's yearbook. Ethel Mae Mazelton, Harold Collis, and Mary Betty French were Class of 1935. Ethel Mae lived two doors east of the Aurandts at 1024 E. 5th Place, and went on to be named Miss Kendallabrum at the University of Tulsa in 1936. Fred Markgraf and Paul Harvey Aurandt were both Class of 1936; Markgraf was senior class president. The photo of long-time speech and English teacher Isabelle Ronan (credited by both Paul Harvey and Tony Randall for starting them in their careers) was from the 1934 yearbook.

When Paul was three, on December 18, 1921, his policeman father was shot by criminals attempting to rob him and a colleague; Officer Harry Harrison Aurandt died two days later. Paul's mother, Anna Dagmar Aurandt, lived the rest of her life in that house, renting out some of the rooms to pay the bills. Here she is on that porch swing with Paul in the late '50s, and you'll notice the vine-covered trellis behind them.

The tracks of the Tulsa Street Railway ran east out of downtown on 3rd Street, forked north and south on Madison Avenue; the southern branch turned east on 5th Place, past the Aurandts' house at 1014 E. 5th Place, and south on Quincy, terminating at 15th Street. In 1922, the Bellview-Owen Park line, as it was called, ran every 10 minutes from 6 am to 11 pm, so there would have been plenty of opportunities for a mischievous kid to put a penny on the track. I imagine the screech of the trolley making the 90 degree turn at Madison would have been a familiar sound in the Aurandt home.

Longfellow School was on the northwest corner of 6th and Peoria. Built to H. O. McClure's "Unit Plan," the school consisted of a series of connected two-classroom buildings surrounding a courtyard. I can't find a photo of it, but Jack Frank of Tulsa Films has a clip of a 1960s news story about a Longfellow School crossing guard, which provides a good look all around the 6th and Peoria intersection. Longfellow was still there, but closed, when Paul Harvey returned home in 1994. It was sold to IHCRC Realty Corp in 1996, and the school was demolished and replaced with the Indian Health Care Resource Center. The shell of the old Central High School building still stands downtown, converted in 1985 to offices for Public Service Company of Oklahoma.

Paul Harvey was slightly mistaken about the location of Lindbergh's Tulsa landing. On September 30, 1927, during that year's International Petroleum Exposition, Lindbergh flew the Spirit of St. Louis into McIntyre Airport, southeast of Admiral and Sheridan, a private airport founded by New Zealand World War I veteran Duncan McIntyre. The aviator's arrow atop Reservoir Hill originally pointed to McIntyre Field. In 1927, Tulsa didn't yet have a municipal airport, but Lindbergh's visit, part of the Guggenheim Tour, provided the inspiration for Tulsa leaders to get one built. It was alongside the new municipal airport that W. G. Skelly built the Spartan Aircraft factory and Spartan School of Aeronautics, about a year later. It's understandable that Harvey would conflate the two.

McIntyre Airport, September 30, 1927. (L to R) Lt. A.C. Strickland (Lindbergh's trainer), Col. Charles A. Lindbergh, Mayor Herman F. Newblock, and Lt. Arthur Goebel. McIntyre Airport was Tulsa's first commercial airport, located at the southeast corner of Admiral Place (aka Hwy 66) and Sheridan Street. Lindbergh always carried his leather flight helmet with him (left hand in photo). The medal on Mayor Newblock's lapel was given to him by Charles Lindbergh. The medal says Lucky Lindy, New York to Paris. Accession #A0045. The Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.

While looking for something else in the Oklahoma Historical Society's online newspaper database, I came across this startling headline atop the April 17, 1921, edition of the Tulsa Sunday World:

PRICELESS PAINTING RECOVERED HERE
Beligum Reclaims Ancient Million-Dollar Work of Old Master

---

Bristow Tool Dresser
Had Ruebens' Work,
'Descent From Cross'

The story states that R. L. Bolin was with the American Expeditionary Forces mounted police in Europe. He bought the Rubens painting in the town of Baute, Germany: "... the canvas in an obscure and dingy art shop attracted Bolin's eye, and he bought it for a mere song." He cut the canvas from the frame, rolled it up with other paintings, and after the armistice he returned to Tulsa. He took this painting (with two others) to Lester W. Wetzel of the Tulsa Art Store at 620 S. Boston, who restored and reframed it and hung it on the north wall of the store. There it stayed for eight months. No one suspected it was anything but a high quality reproduction.

Bolin left Tulsa to become a tool dresser's apprentice near Bristow. He needed some cash, so he asked Wetzel to sell the three paintings he had left with him, but no one was interested. At some point, he began to think they might have been among those works of art stolen by the Kaiser's forces. Through his stepmother, a magazine writer, Bolin got in touch with Charles W. Thurmond, whom the story describes as a finder of lost art works, including the painting, "Head of Peter," which he recovered from an express office and returned to the Vatican.

The story says that Thurmond had been hired by the Belgian government to find this painting. When he received the letter, he caught the next train from New York, examined the painting, declared it genuine, stayed in the store overnight to guard it, then returned to New York the next day with Bolin and the painting.

The story was picked up by United News wire service, and it appeared three days later, on April 20, 1921, in The Dalles (Oregon) Daily Chronicle, with some changed details. The Tulsa World story gave the date of the painting as 1412; the Daily Chronicle story said 1692, and corrected the spelling of the painter's name, which the World misspelled as Reubens.

The New York Times had the story in the Monday, April 18, 1921, edition, datelined Tulsa, April 16 -- the day that Bolin, Thurmond, and the painting set out for New York. The Times asked an art dealer about the chances that the painting was genuine:

Sir Joseph Duveen of Duveen Brothers, 720 Fifth Avenue, said that the masterpiece of the famous painter, Peter Paul Rubens, was still in the Antwerp Museum when he was in Belgium a few months ago. The report that the painting had disappeared has no foundation, Sir Joseph said. "The Descent from the Cross" was painted in 1612 and not in 1412, Sir Joseph remarked, and added that just as the date of the painting was incorrect in the Tulsa dispatch, so were other statements in it.

It was remarked by one authority on paintings that frequent reports have been received of the existince in different parts of this country of the originals of famous paintings, when as a matter of fact they were only reproductions.

I haven't yet found any follow-up stories that would indicate what happened with Bolin, Thurmond, and the painting. There was a long-time Bolin Ford dealership in Bristow, with the catchy slogan, "Rollin' with Bolin," but I don't know whether there is a connection with the tool dresser's apprentice.

In hindsight, it seems like a story that was "too good to check." A story about an ordinary Oklahoma doughboy, an art connoisseur from New York City, and a stolen masterpiece would sell papers in a booming oil metropolis with pretensions of sophistication. To be honest, I started to write this up as if a Rubens painting really had taken a holiday in Tulsa, but it occurred to me that if that had been the case, it would have made the papers elsewhere.

According to Wikipedia, Napoleon stole "Descent from the Cross" from the cathedral in Antwerp and had it installed in the Louvre, but it was returned after Napoleon's final defeat. There's a possible discrepancy in the New York Times report as well: Sir Joseph Duveen says he saw the painting in the Antwerp Museum, but "Descent from the Cross" was installed in the Cathedral of Our Lady in Antwerp, part of a triptych. According to the cathedral's website, the central panel is 421 cm x 311 cm, or about 13 feet tall by 10 feet wide, with two side panels that are each the same height and half the width. Like most triptychs, it was painted on a wooden panel, which would have been awkward for Mr. Bolin to roll up for easy carrying. (Even if it had been canvas, it would have been like toting around a roll of carpet.)

According to the website of the Cathedral

How might World reporter Faith Hieronymus have fact-checked Thurmond's story? For a start, the public library or the college library likely had an art encyclopedia that would have the dates of Rubens' career -- as well as the correct spelling of the artist's name. No internet back then, and long-distance phone calls were a challenge, but a telegram to a known art dealer in New York might have confirmed Mr. Thurmond's identity as an art detective. A telegram to a wire service correspondent in Belgium could have been used to confirm that the painting was actually missing. But deadlines are deadlines, and I imagine there was a great deal of buzz around town about the painting, and an editor anxious to exploit the public's curiosity.

It's a good reminder, when mining newspapers for history, to separate the facts of which the reporter had direct knowledge from the claims made by the people she interviewed and from her own speculation and wishful thinking.

Legendary impresario Jim Halsey is giving Tulsans a chance to see his collection of awards, photos, and memorabilia collected over seven decades in the music business, this Friday afternoon, July 12, 2019. From Halsey's Facebook account:

Open for selected viewing, Friday, July 12, our Country Music Museum/Office at 3225 S. Norwood Ave, Tulsa, OK 74135, from 1:00-4:00pm. Fulfilling so many requests of friends and fans that would like to see our 'Legends of Country Music' memorabilia collection in our office. Featured items from Roy Clark, Oak Ridge Boys, Wanda Jackson, Dwight Yoakam, Merle Haggard, Lee Greenwood, and others from the Jim Halsey Company represented artists. Interesting signed artist contracts, posters, citations and awards, celebrity signed guitar collection. One of a kind photo collection of Halsey Company celebrity artists by celebrity photographers, i.e. Annie Leibovitz, Dezo Hoffman, Alan Messer, Harry Langdon Jr., Bruno of Hollywood and more. Most important collection of Country Music memorabilia west of the Country Music Hall of Fame. Honored to have this collection and proud to share in this, my 70th year in the music business.

In a comment in the same thread, Halsey mentions the possibility of a permanent exhibition of his collection.

So many have asked to see it, we decided to share in an open house. If enough are interested, we'll expand our vision and do something in a larger space. Looking for company that could acquire and make a tourist/learning center. It will attract on a global basis.

If you click around the FCC radio station database, you will find some interesting stuff.

Here's the FCC database entry for KFAQ, AM 1170.

If you'll click on the "Links & Maps" tab, then click on "History Cards for KFAQ (PDF)," you'll get a scan of the FCC's record cards for the station known for most of its history as KVOO, from its beginnings in 1925 until the FCC began using computers in 1980 -- call letters, studio locations, transmitter locations, hours of operation, transmitter power, and special permissions.

The most interesting thing I learned from these cards was that in its early years, KVOO shared its frequency with WAPI in Birmingham, Alabama. In the early years, the two stations had to take turns broadcasting, despite the low power and the significant distance. In 1931, they were permitted to broadcast simultaneously during daylight hours, but still had to split time at night, except for important live broadcasts, in which they reduced power and broadcast simultaneously -- President Roosevelt's radio addresses, the Rose Bowl, the 1936 Joe Louis - Max Schmeling fight, the 1936 Republican and Democratic National Conventions, 1936 pre-election party broadcasts from the Republicans, Democrats, and the Union Party, 1938 Oklahoma primary election returns, and the 1938 dedication of the Will Rogers Memorial.

On November 21, 1933, KVOO upped its power from 5 kW to 25 kW, a change which would result, about 10 weeks later, in a major career break for Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, as their maiden broadcast on the station prompted enthusiastic audience response from as far away as Oakland, California. That earned the band a show on the station, and station manager Bill Way refused to cave to the threats of W. Lee "Pappy" O'Daniel, who had managed to get the Playboys blackballed from several stations. That higher broadcast power made Bob Wills a regional star and made Tulsa his adopted hometown.

It was in 1938 that KVOO began broadcasting at night with a directional antenna to avoid interference with other stations on the same frequency. I haven't been able to find a guide to the abbreviations used on these cards, but it appears that the shift from 25 to 50 kW happened on August 5, 1941 (p. 15), although (p. 30) the equipment from 50 kW was installed on July 7, 1930.

Some highlights:

Ownership (page 2): First licensed on July 19, 1926, but shows operation under T. A. (temporary authorization?) from January 14, 1925, broadcasting as KFRU, licensed to the wonderfully-named Etherical Radio Company. Voice of Oklahoma, Inc., changed the name to KVOO and took over the T. A. as of October 21, 1925. Southwestern Sales Corp. took over as of October 26, 1926.

Transmitters (page 2): The transmitter location was originally at the Roland Hotel in Bristow, then Reservoir Hill, then 11 miles east of Tulsa, and finally 10 miles east of Tulsa, "on highway #66," as of April 26, 1932.

Main Studio Location (page 2): First listed is the Basement of the Wright Bldg. (lic. 5-28-29). Next is the Philtower Bldg (Ltr. 1-25-34 eff. 3-1-34) -- during that gap, at midnight on February 9, 1934, is the first KVOO broadcast of Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. A letter dated 11-12-57 noted the switch to the new KVOO radio and TV studios at 3701 S. Peoria.

Frequencies and power (page 3): Originally broadcast on 800 kHz at 1 KW, from 4-22-27 to 6-1-27, then on 860. Nothing is listed until 11-11-28, when it switches to 1140 kHz, which was KVOO's frequency until the North American Regional Broadcasting Agreement (NARBA) went into effect on March 29, 1941, requiring KVOO to move up by 30 kHz to the 1170 frequency it has had ever since.

MORE:

Here's the FCC database's list of all licensed AM stations within 100 miles of KFAQ transmitters

Google Books link to KVOO references in San Antonio Rose, Charles R. Townsend's bio of Bob Wills.

STILL MORE (2020/02/03):

The Tulsa station at 1300 kHz, known these days as "The Buzz," was known for most of its existence (1938-1968) as KOME (Oklahoma's Magic Empire) and was an affiliate of ABC. It was KCNW (Country 'N' Western) from 1968 - 1973. San Antonio Broadcasting (owners of WOAI) bought the station in 1973, renamed it to KXXO, and turned it into Tulsa's first news-talk station, a CBS News affiliate, with Hal O'Halloran's SportsTalk every night from 6:20 to 7:00. San Antonio Broadcasting became Clear Channel Communications in 1979, and KXXO took the call letters of FM sister station KMOD in 1980. (It later became KBBJ -- Big Band & Jazz -- and then KAKC, reviving the call letters and music of Tulsa's pioneer rock & roll station.) The original transmitter was at 3904 S. Newport (now a residential part of Brookside). From 1946 to 1969, the KOME studio was at 724 S. Main, on the second floor above Harrington's Clothing; in 2009 Tulsa TV Memories' Mike Ransom and former NBC News anchor Jim Hartz did some urban exploration and photographed the old KOME studios, unchanged in four decades. (The entire building has since been redeveloped as apartments.)

Mike McUsic, a historical researcher on the topic of the Green Book, the segregation-era travel guide for African-American tourists, will be leading walking tours of the Green Book locations in Tulsa's Greenwood District on June 8th at 10:00 am and 3:00 pm, and on June 15th at 10:00 am. Tickets are $15, available via Eventbrite.

Mr. McUsic has developed the Green Book Travelers HistoryPin site, locating 1,900 Green Book locations across the country, with names, descriptions, and historic and present-day photos. This link will take you to locations specific to Greenwood.

Mr. McUsic provided a helpful correction to my piece about the fate of Tulsa's Green Book businesses with information about the address of Mince's Service Station -- Red's Bar at 325 E. 2nd Street, these days -- one of the handful of Green Book sites still standing.

MORE: Here's a collection of links to BatesLine articles and other resources about Greenwood and Black Wall Street.

A story published Monday by public radio station KGOU is another prime specimen of the cognitive dissonance that is the "Greenwood Gap Theory" -- the misconception that Tulsa's African-American neighborhood was never rebuilt after what is commonly known as the 1921 Race Riot (but more accurately described as a massacre).

"How Curious: Where Were Oklahoma's Green Book Listings" is the latest edition in KGOU's series of feature stories in response to listener questions. This year's winner of the Oscar best picture has called public attention to the annual series of guidebooks for African-American motorists, letting readers know where their business would be welcome in the days of Jim Crow segregation. According to the KGOU story, the Green Book was first published in 1936; the last edition was for 1966-67.

Oklahoma was first included in 1939. Remember that date. We'll come back to it.

The article paints a lively portrait of Oklahoma City's "Deep Deuce" district, where many of the businesses listed in the Green Book were located. N. E. 2nd Street was the commercial hub of the African-American community. There are a few pictures of businesses that are still standing today.

But what about Tulsa? Claire Donnelly writes:

In Oklahoma City and Tulsa, very few addresses listed in The Green Book are still standing.

Many of Tulsa's listings were centered around the city's Greenwood District, which was looted and burned by white rioters in June 1921. According to the Tulsa Historical Society, 35 city blocks were destroyed and as many as 300 people may have died.

While those sentences are true, their juxtaposition suggests a causation that is impossible in the absence of time travel. The Green Book businesses, which were there in the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, are gone, not because of the riot, but because of urban renewal and expressway construction in the late 1960s: The "Model Cities" program, part of LBJ's "War on Poverty," and the construction of the north leg of the Inner Dispersal Loop, which cut through the heart of the Deep Greenwood commercial district.

Here's an excerpt from the 1939 Sanborn Fire Insurance Map, showing Greenwood as it would have been the first year Oklahoma was mentioned in the Green Book.

I can't get too upset with Ms. Donnelly: She links to the New York Public Library's online collection of Green Book editions and to a spreadsheet collating all of the Oklahoma Green Book listings, which (I surmise) she assembled herself -- a very handy resource.

Based on the spreadsheet, these are the Tulsa Green Book listings still standing. Keep in mind that street numbers may shift over time; I'm going by the numbering on the Sanborn map. The spreadsheet has the year of each individual book in which the business appeared; I've summarized with a range.

• Cotton Blossom Beauty Parlor, 106 N. Greenwood, 1939-1941.
• Art's Chili Parlor, 110 N. Greenwood, 1950-1961. (The Bryant Building.)
• Mrs. W. H. Smith Tourist Home, 124 1/2 N. Greenwood, 1939-1962. (Now the second story above Fat Guy's Burger Bar.)
• Maharry Drugs, 101 N. Greenwood, 1939-1955. (Northeast corner of Greenwood and Archer.)
• Vaughn Drugstore, 301 E. 2nd St., 1939. (Now Yokozuna.)
• Mince Service Station, 2nd & Elgin, 1939-1954. (NW corner, 325 E. 2nd. Red's Bar, formerly Dirty's Tavern and Woody's Corner Bar.)
• Lincoln Lodge, 1407 1/2 E. 15th St., 1941. (Aquarian Age Massage.)

The latter three are surprising, because they are outside the Greenwood District, in areas that might have been considered off-limits to African Americans. Association with the Green Book should add to the historic importance of these buildings.

Another location of note is the Avalon Motel at 2411 E. Apache St., on the northeast corner of Apache and Lewis, listed from 1954 to 1962. Before completion of the Gilcrease Expressway, this stretch of Apache was part of State Highway 11, which began at 51st and Memorial, headed north to Apache at the edge of the airport, then west to Peoria, and north to Turley, Sperry, and Skiatook. The motel, a simple one-story, park-at-your-door accommodation, was still there within my memory, but the site has been vacant for at least a decade. While many motels were built along US 66 around the same time, this appears to be the only motel catering to black tourists.

A concluding thought on the Greenwood Gap Theory: While it's easy to jump to the conclusion that Greenwood was never rebuilt after 1921 -- in the absence of city directories, aerial photography, Sanborn maps, and now the Green Book -- I suspect that the misconception has persisted in part because the civic leaders who were responsible for the second destruction of Greenwood in the 1960s and 1970s were still active in the community until not that many years ago and would have been quite happy to avoid any public blame for their decisions. Easier to remain quiet and let the folks sitting across the foundation boardroom table blame 1921 racists for the demolitions you promoted and approved.

MORE: You can find my omnibus overview of Greenwood's history, with links to further articles, images, and films, here.

UPDATED 2019/05/06, with a correction from Mike McUsic regarding Mince's Service Station. He provided a photo of a 1942 telephone directory listing Mince's at 325 E 2nd Street. McUsic will be leading walking tours of the Green Book locations in the Greenwood District on June 8th at 10:00 am and 3:00 pm, and on June 15th at 10:00 am. Tickets are $15, available via Eventbrite. McUsic has developed the Green Book Travelers HistoryPin site, locating 1,900 Green Book locations across the country, with names, descriptions, and historic and present-day photos. This link will take you to locations specific to Greenwood.

Searching through archives, I found this item that I drafted on 3/15/2007, but never finished. Since 2007, Time has placed its archives behind a paywall; the links are all still valid, but unless you pay for a pass, you'll only see an excerpt. But I was also able to find a new article about the 1928 conference and film of Tulsa at that time.

I was looking through Time magazine's archives for references to Tulsa. Time has put all of its back issues online, going back to the '20s.

Media bias in religion coverage is nothing new. Here are some examples from Time's coverage of the 1928 General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the USA (PCUSA), which was held in Tulsa. This was the northern half of the Presbyterian mainline, which split over the Civil War in 1861 and reunited in the 1980s. Despite Oklahoma's Southern location and the Five Civilized Tribes' connections with the Confederacy, it was the Northern Presbyterian denomination that first evangelized the tribes and established the first church in Tulsa.

As you read what follows, keep in mind that "fundamentalist" at this point is used to describe Christians who affirm the inerrancy of the Bible, the virgin birth of Christ, the literal, bodily resurrection of Christ, the doctrine that God created the heavens and the earth, and the truth of the miracles described in the Bible.

Here's an article from a March 12, 1928, preview to the 1928 PCUSA general assembly. The first sentence subtly paints fundamentalists as unreasonably refusing to abandon an important doctrine:

For Presbyterians, the Virgin birth is a bone of contention which fundamentalists will not permit liberals to bury. Recently Rev. Dr. Albert Parker Fitch, famed modernist, was installed in the pulpit of the Park Avenue Presbyterian Church. Last week, Rev. Dr. Walter Duncan Buchanan, fundamentalist, filed with the Presbyterian General Assembly a complaint about Dr. Fitch. At the annual meeting of the assembly, this year to be held at Tulsa, Okla., late in May, Presbyterian squabbles are given a good thorough airing. This may be one of the squabbles which will enliven this year's session: New York Presbytery against the field.

From the June 11, 1928, issue, a report on the decisions made by 1928 PCUSA general assembly. Note how a debate over doctrine is dismissed as an "unfortunate uproar." Fundamentalists are portrayed as raging beasts, blowing and stamping, while Modernists reason, and Moderates are clear-thinking:

Often enough in the past,, the annual General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S. A. has been an unfortunate uproar concerned with such things as how a god can have a mortal father. Fundamentalists have blown and stamped, Modernists have scoffed and reasoned, Moderates have explained and pleaded. This year, the meeting in Tulsa, Okla., had a minimum of excursions and alarms. The Fundamentalists were apparently in sufficient majority to achieve victory in the things which lay nearest their hearts and Bibles; they could not, however, expect to work their wills...

The first thing for the Presbyterians to do was to elect a moderator to succeed Dr. Robert E. Speer. This they did with rapidity on the first ballot. The new moderator is Dr. Hugh Kelso Walker, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Los Angeles, a clear thinking moderate, who has never embroiled himself in the Fundamentalist v. Modernist controversy. He beat the Fundamentalist candidate, Dr. J. Ambrose Dunkel of the Tabernacle Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis, by a vote of 593 to 318. The moderate moderator named a vice moderator to help him in administering the affairs of his church. This was the Rev. Joseph M. Broady of Birmingham, Ala....

Their chief officers chosen, the commissioners of the Assembly proceeded to perilous business. What was to be done about many recent proposals for uniting the Presbyterian Church with other denominations? The Presbyterians refused to consider amalgamation with such sects as Christian, Universalist and Congregational Churches, because doctrinal differences seemed too extreme to eliminate at this time.

From the following year, a June 3, 1929, report on the 1929 PCUSA General Assembly in St. Paul. The defender of Biblical doctrine is "ultra," a "mouthpiece," and he "stormed, often discourteously," "fulminated," "lashed." Orthodoxy is "dour."

The question was: should the government of Princeton Theological Seminary be changed? Upon the answer, even if it remained implicit, largely depended the Assembly's choice for Moderator (to succeed Dr. Hugo Kelso Walker of Los Angeles) and the policy and perhaps the doctrine of the greatest, wealthiest, oldest Presbyterian seminary in the U. S.

For several months, ultra-Fundamental and orthodox Dr. Samuel L. Craig had stormed, often discourteously, in the pages of his weekly, The Presbyterian. He fulminated against the President of Union Theological Seminary, Dr. Henry Sloane Coffin, because he seemed liberal. He lashed the President of the Princeton Seminary, Dr. J. Ross Stevenson, because he wanted the change. With holy passion he appealed to his readers to realize the gravity of the question. There were other appeals for prayers, for votes.

The impending change meant vesting the control of the Seminary in one board consisting of the present board of directors and the board of trustees. These now form two individual groups, between whom there has been much friction. Slight though this change might seem to laity, Dr. Craig perceived therein the horrid possibility that President Stevenson might thus gain great individual power, that the dour orthodoxy of Princeton might become liberalized. Dr. Stevenson once said that he wanted Princeton to represent the whole Presbyterian church, instead of only the right wing of Presbyterianism. Dr. Craig, mouthpiece of the Right Wing, was assisted by Drs. John Gresham Machen and Robert Dick Wilson of the Princeton Seminary.

Meanwhile, from the May 21, 1928 issue, a report on the 1928 Methodist quadrennial conference describes an accusation against a liberal bishop as "brewed in bitterness":

This was the most important action taken last week by delegates to the Quadrennial Conference. Also, they:

Unanimously asserted their confidence in famed liberal Bishop McConnell of Pittsburgh and ordered expunged a charge against him, brewed in bitterness by one George A. Cooke, of Wilmington, Del., of "maladministration and immorality."

From November 21, 1927, issue, news of an overture to the next general assembly regarding divorce.

All U. S. rejoicing in economic prosperity and all self congratulations upon its vast educational system is like the sound of cheerful music as the funeral procession winds its way to the grave, so long as one out of six U. S. marriages ends with divorce. Last week Clarence Edward Noble MacArtney of Pittsburgh and William Chalmers Covert of Philadelphia who have studied the divorce problem for the Presbyterian church, sent that message to 10,000 Presbyterian ministers and recommended that the Presbyterian general assembly at Tulsa, Oklahoma, next May, permit only adultery as the ground for Presbyterian divorces.

This item is notable in that the aim of reducing the divorce rate is shown in a positive light, and it's taken as a given that marriage stability is more important to a nation than wealth and education. In 1928, modernists would say that the miraculous aspects of Christianity could be excised while retaining Christian moral and ethical standards. Forty years or so later, the PCUSA's moral objections to divorce, no longer anchored by the authority of the Bible, were washed away with the tide of the culture.

MORE:

In his 1923 book Christianity and Liberalism, Presbyterian theologian J. Gresham Machen explains that modernist or liberal Christianity is an entirely different religion than Christianity, which uses Christian terms while rejecting its substance. This Day in Presbyterian History, an excellent blog by my friend Wayne Sparkman, director of the Presbyterian Church in America History Center, has an article about Christianity and Liberalism by Chalmers W. Alexander, writing in the Southern Presbyterian Journal in 1949.

This article about the 1928 General Assembly on the Presbyterian Historical Society website doesn't get into the issues and outcomes of the general assembly, but it does feature some history of First Presbyterian Church, the growth of the church and the city, and a postcard of the 1910 First Presbyterian sanctuary. In the five-minute silent film of the conference, you'll see the brand new Gothic Revival sanctuary next to the 1910 building, a glimpse of Boston Avenue Methodist Church still under construction, the original Kendall Hall at the University of Tulsa, and aerial views of downtown, TU, and the area.

William Newbill, who was a political activist in Tulsa in the 1970s and 1980s, emailed me a few days ago to ask whatever had happened to Accountability Burns. I haven't spotted him recently. The perennial candidate, who ran for mayor as recently as 2009, would be 91 years old. Over the years, I've spotted him at Central Library, a lunch room at TCC downtown, and around downtown.

William shared some memories from his years in Tulsa and his dealings with Burns, and he gave me his permission to share them here:

I left Tulsa in 94 to work for the feds as a lawyer. I had been active in both parties before then. I had a meteoric rise and fall in the GOP as a very young man from 1975-1980 which included a year at the RNC on Capital Hill. But I was thrown out in 1980 for refusing to support Reagan. I was Northeast Oklahoma Regional Co-Chair of the John Anderson Presidential Campaign. Those are mainly the times I saw the guy.

It took many years to get inside with the Democrats in Tulsa but by the time I left I was an insider in the party. 84 County Convention delegate for Hart. 1988 State Convention Delegate for Dukakis, finally a high level volunteer in the 94 AG's Dem race for some guy in Tulsa, I think his name was Jeff Nix. But I got a job offer from the feds and left before the primary. He was facing Drew Edmondson which was a suicide mission.

Burns was a character I ran into from age 17 in 1975 while filing a high school friend for Street Commissioner under the old system. But I ran into him a lot mainly by accident. He kept up with me by mail for a long time.

I last saw Accountability Burns one night at TU in 1993 after night law school was out. He looked like a homeless guy. He was on disability for mental impairments, reportedly schizophrenia that emerged while a grad student in mathematics. I gave him a ride down 11th street to his apartment.

As a younger person, referring back to the late 70s, I didn't realize he was mentally ill until one meeting when he thought it was reasonable to ask for an advance payment of two million dollars to appear in a debate.

Back then he was a perennial candidate in every election. After that, and over the years, I received a "Mars Gram" in the mail from him occasionally. Usually these were postcards. It took a while to decipher the code but it was a revealing look at his paranoid thoughts often including references to the "black international." It wasn't clear this was a racial category but I never figured it out.

Mr. Science had tried to tell us younger people back in the 70s that Burns was "nuts" but we didn't believe him initially. He had determined Burns didn't even know the basics of cartography even though he claimed to have a Ph.D. in the field.

Newbill's Facebook post prompted a comment from retired University of Tulsa Professor Steve Steib, who wrote that Burns would drop by his office now and then in the 1970s:

He was, at the time, working on a universal language that would be spoken and understood by all of earth's humans. His presence often reminded me of the thin line between brilliance and crazy. As time passed he seemed to spend more time on the crazy side of that line. It made me sad to see such talent slip away.

I've seen some of Burns's writings from that period. He had an idiosyncratic phonetic spelling system which took some time to decipher. In many of his writings he would claim that his wife had been abducted and was being held for an impossible ransom.

A friend of mine who had had some dealings with Burns around the same period speculated, based on various references in his writing, that he had been one of a group of mathematical prodigies ("Einsteins," and thus perhaps the source of his "Einstein V" moniker) working on a secret government program and snapped mentally. The "black international" William Newbill mentions may be a reference to clandestine operations (as in "black ops"). I remember reading a feature story about Accountability some years ago, which included Burns's brother talking about his mental illness and his background, but I can't seem to find it now. It may pre-date the digital archive of Tulsa's local dailies, which only goes back to 1989.

According to this "You Know You're From Tulsa" thread, as of December 22, 2017, (his 91st birthday), he still regularly ate lunch at the Hillcrest Medical Center cafeteria. I haven't found any more recent sightings. Public records indicate that he is still on the voter rolls (as "A. Burns") but hasn't voted since casting an early ballot at the election board in the June 2012 primary.

Back in 2012, after I published a collection of links about Accountability Burns, a friend (I can't track down who) sent me some documents by Burns from 1975, 1984, and 1987. I transcribed Accountability Burns letter to the Bar Association, but never got around to transcribing the other two.

Accountability Burns tells the Tulsa City County Library board to hire him as an auditor, November 30, 1975

Accountability Burns complains to the Oklahoma County Bar Association about 'fawlss uhrest,' January 15, 1984

Accountability Burns for County Commissioner, January 22, 1987

Deeper in the archives there's a Tulsa Tribune article about Accountability Burns 1988 campaign for Police and Fire Commissioner. Some people remember that he referred to the office, under Tulsa's pre-1989 charter, as "Pig and Fyr" commissioner.

If you have seen Accountability around town lately, or if you have stories of Close Encounters of the E-5 Kind that you'd like to share, please email me at blog at batesline dot com or send me a message through my Facebook page.

Mapping Tulsa, a diverse collection of historical maps illustrating Tulsa's history and culture, is on display at the Henry Zarrow Center gallery, at the southwest corner of Brady Street and Cincinnati Avenue in Tulsa's Bob Wills Arts District. The gallery is open noon to 6 pm on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, and the Mapping Tulsa exhibit runs through June 30, 2018.

I went to see it last Saturday with my youngest son, who has inherited his dad's fascination with maps. While many of the maps were familiar from online collections, there were a few I had never seen before, and it was fun to be able to look at them together in a large format and discuss the interesting details we found. Here's a list in roughly chronological order, with a few of those details.

• 1804, Tanner-Arrowsmith Map of Louisiana
• 1830-1840, Routes of Emigrating Indians: 1932 map showing Trail of Tears routes from the southeastern US to Indian Territory, compiled by Grant Foreman and traced by George Bystrom
• 1866, Indian Territory: Highlights effect of post-Civil War treaties with the tribes that fought alongside the Confederacy.
• 1890, Map of Indian Territory and Oklahoma: Showing railroads, trails, tribal boundaries, treaty dates. Oklahoma is shown as everything west of the Five Tribes territories, except that the Panhandle is not included, and labeled as "Public Lands."
• 1898, USGS Fractional Survey Township Plat, T19N, R12E: Covers 81st West Ave to Peoria, Osage County Line to 61st Street. Shows the newly incorporated boundaries of Tulsa, parcels and acreages, slopes, wooded areas, cultivated fields, and creeks that have long been channeled into storm sewers.
• 1901, Map Showing Progress of Allotment in Creek Nation
: Shows division into townships and sections, shaded lands that had been allotted already, railroads, townsites, agencies, and tribal facilities.
• 1901, Tulsa Town Site Map: 1944 republication in honor of Tulsa's incorporators and in memory of surveyor Gus Patton. Shows original townsite (654.48 acres) and municipal limits (1440 acres, or 2.25 square miles) at incorporation.
• Circa 1901, Section 9 of T15N, R18E: "SECTION DIAGRAM: Showing irregular form of present land holdings of Creek citizens as surveyed and platted by the Commission to the Five Civilized Tribes preparatory to allotment." Fields on the diagram belong to people with the last name Rentie, Spaulding, Van, Mackey, and Sango. Fences, buildings, roads, and timbered areas are plotted on a grid of 0.4 acre squares (132 feet by 132 feet, or two chains by two chains).
• 1905, State of Sequoyah: Shows proposed county boundaries on a 1902 USGS base map.
• Civic Center / Union Station proposal, probably from the 1910s: Bird's eye-view of a proposed Beaux Arts Civic Center, in the fashion of Chicago's Midway or the National Mall, which would have occupied the blocks between Archer and Cameron, Main and Cincinnati, with a Union Station north of Cameron Street, and the rail tracks running approximately where the old MK&T tracks were, what would have been Davenport Street. The Civic Center would have included a public library, federal, county, and municipal buildings, municipal auditorium, and hall of records surrounding a plaza with a tall obelisk atop a museum or memorial.
• 1918, Fowler and Kelly bird's eye map of Tulsa
• 1920, Sanborn Fire Insurance Map, Tulsa, Sheet 9: Shows the heart of Tulsa's African-American district, Greenwood and Frankfort Avenues from Archer to Easton Streets, prior to its burning by a white mob in 1921. The color image highlights the pasted segments, used to update the map to show recent construction.
• 1920, Sanborn Fire Insurance Map, Tulsa, Sheet 6: Shows Archer to the MK&T tracks, Cheyenne to Main. This is an actual page from the atlas, under glass. Not only can you easily see the pasted segments with recent construction, but if you look carefully, you can see what was there before, showing through the new layer.
• 1921, Art Work of Oklahoma's Oil Cities: On display are photos of the Arkansas River and the University of Tulsa campus.
• Before 1924, Spavinaw water system: A mosaic of three USGS quadrangle maps (Hominy, Claremore, Pryor), with the route of the water pipeline drawn over it, along with the High Pressure Reservoir on Reservoir Hill, Mohawk Reservoir, and the Tiawah Tunnel. What's fascinating is that the Hominy and Claremore quadrangles are from 1916, so they show the influence of quarter-section allotment on the road network. The Pryor quadrangle is from 1901; its roads follow the terrain. Many long-gone rural schools are shown on this map.
• 1928, Tulsa and Northeast Oklahoma promotional map, Tulsa Chamber of Commerce: Shows Tulsa at the intersection of "Three Great Highways" (US 64, US 66, US 75), major city streets and highways, roads of northeastern Oklahoma, and articles touting the region's virtues.
• 1936, WPA map of land ownership, Tulsa County, T19N, R13E: This map, one of a statewide series documenting owners and property values during the Great Depression, shows the 6 mile by 6 mile township between Peoria Avenue and Mingo Roads, Archer and 61st Streets. There are a number of well known Tulsa names on the map: Waite Phillips, Rachel Perryman, P. J. Hurley, Francis A. Rooney. Tulsa County already owned the land that would become LaFortune Park, and a Catholic convent owned 80 acres NW of 51st and Yale. The city limits stopped at 41st to the south and Hudson to the east.
• Circa 1936, Triangle Blue Print and Supply Map of the City of Tulsa: Municipal boundaries are almost identical to the WPA map. This large map shows all streets and covers 81st West Ave to Memorial, 36th Street North to 61st Street, including many rural subdivisions. Red lines, mostly along major streets, aren't explained -- bus lines perhaps? A small Rand McNally pocket map of Oklahoma is on display in the same case.
• 1941, General Highway Map, Tulsa County: Shows numbered highways, municipal boundaries, rural school locations, and county road conditions.
• 1989, INCOG map of Tulsa Metro Area Average Daily Traffic Counts
• 1996, Tulsa Commemorative Character Map, World Graphics Map Company: Map is a cartoonish birds' eye view showing businesses that purchased the chance to be represented on the map. Remember Crystal's Pizza, the Browsery on 11th east of Harvard, Geo's Jumbo Burgers in the old Circle K at 15th and Sheridan, or the Billy Ray's BBQ location down the street in an old Der Wienerschnitzel A-frame building? They're all represented here.
• 2006, The Channels: Artist's conception of the Bing Thom / Warren family $700 million proposal to build islands with high rises in the middle of the Arkansas River north of 21st Street.
• 2017, Mending a Rift: Urbanism for North Tulsa: Maps and illustrations of a master plan for Greenwood and the demolished Near Northside neighborhood, developed by urban planning students from the University of Notre Dame, proposing to restore the urban street grid with dense, pedestrian scale development.
• 2018, Gathering Place map

Several maps deal with the oil and gas industry:

• 1956, Tectonic Map of Oklahoma
• Map of Glenn Oil and Gas Pool and Vicinity
• Locations of All Known or Reported Oil Wells, Gas Wells, and Dry Holes Drilled in Tulsa County: Also includes adjacent sections of Creek, Osage, Pawnee, Rogers, and Wagoner Counties.

Exciting news! Yesterday, Tulsa County Clerk Michael Willis announced that subdivision plats for Tulsa County are now online. You no longer have to subject yourself to downtown parking and courthouse metal detectors to access this fascinating trove of Tulsa history.

We have a pretty big deal launching in the Tulsa County Clerk's Office. After a lot of work, we have placed all the plats in Tulsa County on our website for free. I'm fortunate to have a great team that has worked hard to keep adding content to our website. If you're looking for a plat or some historical documents, you might check my website at http://www.countyclerk.tulsacounty.org/Home/Land and click one of the links near the top.

There are three categories of new content, each with its own index page:

Subdivision plats: A plat subdivides a large parcel of land into blocks and lots, which then become the fundamental unit of land ownership. Plats will also show public streets, common areas and private streets (typical for gated communities), easements, and covenants. Each city or town in the county has an original townsite -- Tulsa's consists of the tilted grid that runs parallel and perpendicular to the Frisco tracks -- and you will also find plats for towns like Red Fork, West Tulsa, Carbondale, Garden City, Dawson, Alsuma, and Highland Park that were ultimately annexed into the City of Tulsa.

Townsite plats, along with the plats of many older subdivisions, have the original street names, before they were renamed and renumbered to conform to Tulsa's grid. For example, the plat for the Orcutt Addition shows that what we know now as 15th Street between Peoria and Victor Avenues was originally called Cherry Street, and what we now know as Peoria was called Pine, and there's now a coffee house at the corner of Cherry and Jasmine.

Some of the plats show other interesting features. For example, the Park Hill Addition (just west of Owen Park) shows the route of the Oklahoma Union Traction Co. street railway (the company that also ran the electric interurban to Sapulpa), with a branch that terminates in Owen Park and another that continues along Easton Street. A proposed "subway" (underpass) is shown on Brady Street, which presumably would have replaced the streetcar's at-grade crossing of the MK&T railroad line. The plat for Irving Place shows the OUT line continuing west and around the Washington Irving Monument, which commemorates his visit to the area in 1832, as recorded in his book A Tour on the Prairies. The Owen Place addition shows a branch of the rival Tulsa Street Railway on Nogales Avenue terminating in a loop north of the MK&T tracks.

The plats page also includes the Comprehensive 1955 Zoning Map for the City of Tulsa, from the brief period when the city had extra-territorial zoning power within a five-mile radius of the city limits, a power that the courts nullified as the result of a lawsuit brought by the owner of Jamil's Steakhouse.

Platted indexes: The County Clerk logs deeds and other real-estate-related instruments (e.g., easements, condemnations, mortgages, lien releases, mortgage assignments, oil and gas leases) sequentially in books, but how do you find everything that might pertain to a specific lot? It's done with computers now, but previously paper indexes were used. The indexes are organized into a page (or more) for each subdivision and block, as each new deed is recorded. These books are now scanned and posted by subdivision and block. For example, on September 12, 1940, Ira D. and Ruth Crews sold Lot 1 and the north 2 feet of Lot 2 of Lamb Addition (southwest corner of Archer and Louisville) to a certain J. Robert Wills (a bandleader with a new hit record and a new bride). About a month later, Wills and his wife mortgaged the home with First National Bank of Anadarko for $3200, and a few days later the mortgage was assigned to Federal National Mortgage. He and his wife sold the property on February 13, 1946, to Mr. & Mrs. Robert E. Berry.

From the index for Johansen Acres Amended Block 3, we learn that James R. and Betty L. Wills bought lot 11 on May 23, 1958, and sold it on March 17, 1960. This would have been during the period that Bob returned to Tulsa and reunited with brother Johnnie Lee's band at Cain's Ballroom from roughly 1957 to 1959.

Unplatted indexes: What about land that isn't part of a subdivision? This land is usually described in terms of fractions of a section (square mile) within one of the statewide grid of 6-mile by 6-mile townships, e.g., the E 1/2 of the NW 1/4 of the SE 1/4 of Section 16, Township 17N, Range 5E. Unplatted indexes are organized by township and section, with markings to show which quarter-quarter sections are affected by a given instrument. While land can be divvied up in ways other than quarters and halves, the index provides a quick guide to which instruments might affect a given parcel, which then has to be confirmed by looking up the documents themselves. This is where you'd look to find the history of a currently platted parcel before it was platted. The index for Section 19, Township 19N, Range 13E -- 31st to 41st, Peoria to Lewis -- begins with a long list of allotments from the Creek Nation to various members of the Perryman family and others. O. Davis received an allotment deed for 2.5 acres on August 16, 1905, and on September 16 and 17, 1912, the Creek Nation removed restrictions on O. Davis's property. Using the index to read the original documents (or typed transcriptions) might tell an interesting story.

You can use these tools to trace your own family's history, too. I learned that in a little over a month's time will be the 40th anniversary of my parents buying our home -- I was in high school at the time.

I am grateful to Tulsa County Clerk Michael Willis for devoting his office's resources to making this happen and to the Tulsa County Republican voters who were wise enough two years ago to nominate Willis and end the 32-year reign of the Hastings-Wilson-Key-Rothman dynasty, a succession of County Clerks that stood in the way of greater public access to public records. Sometimes your vote actually makes a practical difference. We look forward to the results of Willis's ongoing efforts to make County Clerk records easily accessible to the public.

MORE: Historical Map Works has land ownership maps of the Creek Nation from 1910, Creek Nation 1910 Township Plats by Hastain and Model Printing Company. You can view and zoom the maps online, but you have to pay to download them.

It's a little strange to see Creek Nation boundaries being used as an organizing principle for maps made after statehood in 1907, but 1910 is soon enough that these maps may show Dawes Commission allotments to Muscogee Creek Indians and Freedmen. Surplus land would have been purchased by the U. S. Government from the Creek Nation and sold to other interested parties. I'm not sure if the color code (yellow or white) or notation (C or F followed by a four-digit number) indicates whether the land was allotted to an enrolled Creek or sold to a non-Creek. The maps show familiar Creek family names like Perryman, Tiger, Harjo, Yahola, Fixico, Rentie, Bible, and McIntosh, and family names that would be used for creek and park and subdivision names, like Berryhill, Woodward, Clinton, Childers, Hodge, Orcutt, Crowell, Fry, and Haikey.

The NW 1/4 of the SE 1/4 of Section 22, Township 19 North, Range 12 East, was Sue A. Bland's allotment. That's roughly between 36th Street, 38th Street, Yukon Ave, and 25th West Ave., and that's where oil was first struck in Tulsa County in 1901.

Three women named Glenn, Mabel C., Gracie, and Ida E., had 160-acre allotments in Township 17 North, Range 12 East. In 1905, Ida E. Glenn's allotment in the SE 1/4 of Section 10 was the site of the first well in the Glenn Pool, a massive discovery that would make Tulsa the Oil Capital of the World. The deed index for that section shows that I. E. Glenn received her allotment from the Creek Nation on August 28, 1903, and an oil and gas lease with W. S. Guthrie et al. was recorded on January 12, 1906, and renewed on March 9, 1908. The index for this square mile of land records oil and gas leases, pipeline right of way and conveyance, mineral rights, and many other transactions involving dozens of oil and gas companies over nine decades.

Crystal City Amusement Park was on Route 66 (Sapulpa Road, now Southwest Blvd) between 41st Street and 33rd West Avenue. The site is now occupied by the Crystal City Shopping Center (whose name was the nemesis of radio announcers). Crystal City was home to a roller coaster named Zingo, which became the namesake for the wooden coaster at Bell's decades later. A Sanborn fire insurance map from June 1932 shows Zingo ("scenic railway") hugging the highway, a stream flowing through the property (with a monkey island in the middle of it), a massive dance hall, a giant pool with a large bath house, "amusement houses", Dodgem (bumper cars), a ride called "Bug," a few smaller rides, an octagonal refreshment building, ticket offices, and something called Hiram's Barn. TulsaGal has photos of Crystal City Amusement Park from the late 1920s that show many of these features. The image above, showing Hiram's Barn, a tall tower (possibly over the ticket offices), and part of the Zingo roller coaster, is from that entry.

(Click the picture to open a very large version of the map in a popup window.)

This north-up map provides some context, showing the park in relation to 33rd West Ave., 41st Street, Sapulpa Road (now Southwest Blvd), and the Frisco (now BNSF) tracks.

According to the County Assessor's records (parcel 31125-92-27-17380), the Crystal City Shopping Center was built in 1954 and sits on 442,060 sq. ft. of land, a bit more than 10 acres, about the same size as Bell's footprint at the Tulsa County Fairgrounds. Comparing the Sanborn map (Volume 3, Map 501) to the assessor's map, it appears that the highway department routed I-244 around the shopping center, taking homes to the east and moving the Tulsa-Sapulpa Union tracks further east as well. The site of the old amusement park is fully intact.

The shopping center was sold at auction in 2013 to Monticello Acquisitions LLC for $565,000. The new owners began to renovate the property and attract new tenants.

Most of the information above comes from an entry posted on September 26, 2011, but as the hopes expressed in that entry have been overtaken by events, I am reposting with updated information.

Tulsa's Near Northside neighborhood, whose rise and demise I documented in a 2014 story for This Land Press ("Steps to Nowhere"), is part of an area that will be the subject of the Unity Heritage Neighborhoods Design Workshop, next week, September 11-15, 2017, led by urban design students from Notre Dame:

The University of Notre Dame Graduate Urban Design Studio will be traveling to Tulsa to work with our community to provide positive visions for future development. The studio will be conducting a 3-month design study focused on the Unity Heritage Neighborhoods located immediately north of downtown. The study broadly encompasses areas such as the Brady Heights Historic District, Emerson Elementary, Greenwood, and the Evans-Fintube site. To kick-off this effort, the studio will be conducting a week-long design workshop from September 11th - 15th to meet with the local community, to hear our thoughts for the area, and to begin envisioning the possibilities with us through a series of visual urban and architectural designs. Come on out and imagine the future together!

The workshop includes three events for public input and feedback. All are free and open to the public, but RSVPs would be appreciated. The links below will take you to the registration page for each event.

Workshop Introduction & Initial Community Input: Monday, September 11th, 2017, 6-8pm, at 36 Degrees North, 36 E. Cameron St. (That's just east of Main on Cameron in the Brady Bob Wills Arts District.)

Meet the team. Hear about the components necessary for making vibrant, walkable, mixed-use, diverse, and inclusive cities, towns, and neighborhoods. Share your vision and desires for the area.

Mid-Week Design Presentation & Initial Feedback: Wednesday, September 13th, 2017, 6-8pm, at the Greenwood Cultural Center:

Check out the in-process urban and architectural designs and provide feedback for the students to work on to further shape the vision.

End-of-Workshop Design Presentation & Feedback: Friday, September 15th, 6-8pm, at Central Library:

See the final designs from the week and provide your thoughts and feedback for the students to continue to work on during the remainder of their study. The studio will return to Tulsa in December to present their final designs and findings for the community to use as an ongoing resource.

MORE: Here's my Flickr set of images of Tulsa's lost Near Northside.

Tulsa native and newsman Loren Cosby shared with me a couple of interesting anecdotes involving Jerry Lewis's appearance at a Tulsa golf tournament, and he gave me permission to share them with you.

The Roy Clark Celebrity Golf Classic had a nine-year run at Cedar Ridge Country Club from 1975 to 1983, raising money for Children's Medical Center through ticket sales to the golf tournament, amateur golfers paying for the right to play alongside the stars, and ticket sales to the variety show at the Mabee Center. This Daily Oklahoman story describes what turned out to be the final edition of the tournament:

More than 60 celebrities from the world of entertainment and sports will be participating in the 9th Annual Roy Clark Celebrity Golf Classic, next Saturday and Sunday, Sept. 17 and 18, in Tulsa.

In addition to hosting the golf tournament, Clark will headline the annual StarNight Show Saturday evening at Oral Roberts University Mabee Center. Other headliners for StarNight will include the Gatlin Brothers, the Osmond Brothers and Kay Starr. The comedy team of Williams and Ree will round out the program with George Lindsey as emcee. Tickets are on sale at Carson Attraction outlets including the John A. Brown stores....

Golf celebrities include actor Claude Akins, cowboy star Rex Allen, Hollywood columnist James Bacon, actor Ernest Borgnine, singer Jimmy Dean, actor Ron Ely, former astronaut Capt. Ron Evans, TV soap series actor Tom Hallick, Emmy award winner Arte Johnson, singer Trini Lopez, actor Fred MacMurray, former baseball outfielder Roger Maris, actors Tim Matheson, Donald May, Doug McClure, Darren McGavin and Martin Milner to name a few.

The late '70s and early '80s might be called Tulsa's Silver Age, at least in terms of prominence and prosperity. Oil money was flowing, and new buildings were going up downtown. Tulsa musicians like Leon Russell and David Gates were at the top of the pop charts, and the local music scene was drawing the likes of Eric Clapton and George Harrison to town. Unique, locally produced programming dominated the airwaves: KTUL's Oil in Oklahoma, the John Chick Show, Mazeppa Pompazoidi's Uncanny Film Festival, Uncle Zeb's Cartoon Camp, and meteorologists who used a cartoon character (Don Woods and Gusty on KTUL) or a lion puppet (Lee Woodward and King Lionel on KOTV) to tell us about the weather. Tulsa radio had local news and sports talk shows; network programming like the Larry King Show was relegated to the graveyard shift.

And it was during this period that Roy Clark, with the encouragement of his agent, impresario Jim Halsey ("Tulsa's Titan of Country Talent" according to a 1979 Chicago Tribune feature story), made Tulsa his home base and began to get involved in the community, drawing his celebrity friends to come to Tulsa and help.

Loren Cosby, then in his pre-teen and teenage years, attended many of the tournaments. His mother, a member of the Children's Medical Center Auxiliary, served as a driver for tournament celebrities. Cosby remembers Jerry Lewis's lone appearance at the Roy Clark tournament. His memory places it in the late '70s, around the time Lewis was collaborating with Oral Roberts on his prime time TV specials.

I worked cleaning golf clubs. Picture this: I'm standing on grass near the clubhouse garage near the arrival driveway. First tee is about 1/4 football field from the driveway. Mom and others drove celebs in Dean Bailey Oldsmobile Skylarks between the hotel and the course. Except Jerry Lewis.

I hear multiple sirens around 8 a.m. Four Tulsa Police Department motorcycle cops and two TPD cars, sirens blaring, deliver Jerry Lewis to the driveway in his limo. Lewis gets out -- the sidewalk is roped off. Lewis struts down the sidewalk, ignoring a group of about thirty Children's Medical Center kids, talks with either John Erling or Lee Woodward.

(KOTV meteorologist Lee Woodward and KRMG morning man John Erling served as first-tee announcers for the tournament.)

Shortly thereafter, an even bigger star of stage and screen makes a more modest entrance.

Twenty minutes later -- my view of the driveway obscured by a low tree branch -- reveals a Skylark pulling up quietly. A door swings open, a guy putting on golf shoes, nobody paying attention but me. It's Bob Hope. No pomp. Channel 8's Rea Blakey walks toward him with cue card for a public service announcement for Tulsa Red Cross. People still don't realize Hope is there as the Jerry Lewis carnival was just winding down. Mom said it was the first and last time they invited Lewis because he was a jerk.

Cosby recalls, "The only year Jerry was there, he did the typewriter bit in the Star Night Show at the Mabee Center, then Hope did his act and as always Roy closed it and played Malagueña."

But about 20 years later, Lewis himself had mellowed somewhat, at least according to a story that Cosby heard from some family friends who encountered Lewis in New York City, after a performance of Damn Yankees on Broadway:

After the show, they ran into Jerry Lewis, who was leaving the theater from a side alley entrance by himself. They said they enjoyed the show. He spent 25 minutes asking them questions about the show, real nice, said he loved Tulsa and Oral Roberts was a friend.

Cosby says he could have written a book about being a kid hanging around at the Roy Clark celebrity tournaments.

Dinner with just me and Evel Knievel at the Williams Plaza Hotel. Getting together with June Haver and Fred MacMurray every year they were here. Eating at MacMurray's table during the sponsor/celebrity dinner. Walking from MacMurray's room to Bob Hope's room in Gerald Ford's presidential suite at the Sheraton Skyline East. Danny Thomas in a suit at 6:30am bringing boxes of donuts to volunteers at Williams Plaza. Riding on the back of Alan Hale's golf cart. Hanging out with Martin Milner at Star Night and getting scolded in a fatherly way by him for acting like Jerry Lewis without the credentials! Talking with Frank Cady and Charles Lane. While interning with KRMG, asking James MacArthur a question about his mom out on the golf course and getting yelled at by him: "Is this interview about me or Helen Hayes?" I was all of 15. Walking Cedar Ridge with Alvy Moore. Also walking Cedar Ridge with my mom and Roger Maris. Clint Howard borrowed Mom's car one evening while a bunch of volunteers were in the Sheraton bar/restaurant with Claude Akins and others. James Garner was in the program almost every year, and I was always disappointed when he never showed. It goes on and on.

MORE: Tulsa TV Memories is the pre-eminent online resource documenting Tulsa's golden '70s and early '80s, both on and off the air, through the memories of on-air personalities, behind-the-scenes crew, and ordinary listeners and viewers. I found a few reminiscences about Jerry Lewis's appearances in Tulsa. Lowell Burch remembered his time as a student at ORU: "The TV equipment was as good as any they had in Burbank at the time and the celebrities occupied the campus like a Hollywood backlot. Stars like Johnny Cash, Pearl Bailey, Jerry Lewis, and Doc Severinson (just to name a few) would show up on campus on a regular basis to do Oral's shows." Mike Bruchas relayed a friend's story of Jerry Lewis showing up in a limo at Sound Unlimited in search of an adapter for his boombox, and the anecdote is accompanied by an ad for an Oral Roberts Christmas Special starring Jerry Lewis and characters from Sid and Marty Krofft's Saturday morning TV shows. Lewis was a visiting lecturer at ORU in the late '70s. DolfanBob remembers going to one of the Roy Clark tournament Star Nights and seeing "Jerry Lewis, Ben Johnson, and Adrienne Barbeau, who did a Belly Dance." (Important use of the Oxford comma there.)

If you encountered Jerry Lewis in Tulsa or had brushes with greatness at the Roy Clark Celebrity Golf Classic, drop me a line at blog at batesline dot com. I'd love to share your stories here.

STILL MORE:

Jerry Lewis's typewriter bit from Who's Minding the Store:

Roy Clark plays Malagueña on an episode of The Odd Couple:

Relevant to yesterday's post on the Smithsonian Channel documentary that misrepresented the history of Greenwood, Tulsa's historic African-American neighborhood that its residents rebuilt after it was sacked and burned in the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot. The rebuilt neighborhood thrived and prospered for decades, becoming known as Black Wall Street, before urban renewal and expressway construction destroyed it again in the late 1960s. Here is a news story from the time that illustrates the social and financial impact of the decision to route the expressway through the heart of the Deep Greenwood commercial district.

From the Tulsa Library's online "vertical files," this article from the May 4, 1967, Tulsa Tribune, shows a photo of the demolition of the Dreamland Theater to make way for I-244. The story reports on the number of long-time small businesses that are closing down because they can't get financing to reopen somewhere new. Although the library's PDF has OCR text, it is full of mis-scanned words, so I decided to transcribe it here, and correlate it with other contemporaneous sources of information.

An Old Tulsa Street Is Slowly Dying
Greenwood Fades Away Before Advance of Expressway

By JOE LOONEY

An old man walked doen the sunny side of Greenwood Avenue and paused to stare at a pile of rubble.

Across the street, Ed Goodwin looked out the window of the offices of the Oklahoma Eagle and shook his head. "That's L. H. Williams," the Negro publisher said. "He comes down here every day. Since he had to sell out, he's just put the money in the savings and loan and lives off the interest . . ."

Ed Goodwin and L. H. Williams grew up with Greenwood Avenue. They remember the early days, when the first buildings were put up in the two blocks north of Archer Street.

They saw the riot of 1921, when many of the buildings burned. They saw the street rebuilt, grow and prosper. They saw, too, as a slum festered.

And now they are watching Greenwood Avenue die.

Its business district will be no more.

THE CROSSTOWN Expressway slices across the 100 block of North Greenwood Avenue, across those very buildings that Goodwin describes as "once a Mecca for the Negro businessman--a showplace."

There still will be a Greenwood Avenue, but it will be a lonely, forgotten lane ducking under the shadows of a big overpass. The Oklahoma Eagle still will be there, but every forecast is that some urban renewal project will push down the buildings that have not already been torn down by the wrecking crews clearing right-of-way for the superhighway.

Williams' son went to college and got a degree in pharmacy. He helped his father in the drug store, later was its manager. Today, he is looking for a job. He can't get financing to build another drug store anywhere.

"Very few of the businessmen here are able to get the financing they need to relocate," Goodwin said. "A Negro just can't do it. So, most of them are just out of business."

IT WAS BECAUSE of financing that Goodwin stayed on the street when [sic] he grew up instead of building a new office in another neighborhood.

His father operated a grocery store in a building across the street--one of those torn down to make room for the expressway.

"He built it in 1915," Goodwin recalled. "and it was destroyed in the 1921 riot. But he rebuilt and there was a grocery store there until 1930. I ran a furniture store there for a while, then put the Eagle office in there in 1936."

There, the Oklahoma Eagle remained until last year.

Goodwin owned an old theater building. It was not in the path of the highway.

"I wanted to put the paper out closer to my house, but they wanted so much money for the property, I decided it would be better to put the money into the building."

In the midst of old buildings, most of them dark, red brick structures dating to the early 1920s, he built a shining modern buff-brick structure. Behind the new building housing the Eagle, in what had been the orchestra pit of the old theater, he put a sunken garden.

OTHER PIECES of history have scattered away. There was the Dreamland Theater. J. W. Williams built it in 1916, then rebuilt it after it burned in the 1921 riot. A Negro Elks lodge moved in years ago, and this was a leading social center for the Negro community.

A rather substantial expressway pillar is slated to plunk down just about where the lobby of the theater was. The Elks managed to find a house 15 blocks up the street and there they moved a few weeks ago.

Otis Isaacs had a shoe shop next door. He rented his space from Alex Spann, who owned many of the buildings on the street. lsaacs had to shift for himself. He found a place 10 blocks away.

Attorney Amos Hall had an office downstairs. and upstairs had provided space for the Negro Masonic Lodge, of which he is Grand Master. Hall and his lodge both moved Into a building five blocks away.

BUT THE WILLLIAMS Drug is not being relocated. Nor has barber Joe Bulloch found a new place to go into business. Dr. A. G. Bacholtz has given up the private practice he carried on for so long on Greenwood Avenue, and is working with the City-County Health Department.

And Alex Spann. the building owner. He had a pool hall. With the money he got for his buildings, he bought another old pool hall a mile up Greenwood.

Hotel owner A. G. Small couldn't build another hotel anywhere. So he decided to retire. Mrs. Joseph W. Miller, whose late husband built a hotel which she operated, also could not rebuild. She, too, has retired.

A couple who operated a cafe gave up their own business and went to work for restaurants in downtown Tulsa. A man who owned a garage was just about able to get his mortgage paid off from the funds from the sale of the building to the highway department. He is not back in business anywhere else.

PAT WHITE was able to move his barbecue stand into a new home on Pine Street. The Christ Temple CME Church moved to Apache and Lewis.

"There is no Negro business district anymore," Goodwin said. Tulsa attached the name of Greenwood to the entire district occupied by Negroes--a name that ironically came from the city of Greenwood, Miss., a pIace hardly considered a Mecca for Negroes.

"They might as well take down all these parking meters," the publisher said. "There's nothing to park here for anymore."

In its heyday, it was a busy street. But the buildings grew old. The Negro population moved into newer neighborhoods. Slowly, integration opened a few doors downtown, on the other side of Archer Street. Places to eat. Go to a movie. To work at good jobs.

RAUCOUS CLUBS and rooming houses sprang up around Greenwood and Archer. Long before the expressway came and brushed the old street away, it was a dying street, like the main street of many an old, small town.

The future? A question mark for some like L. H. Williams Jr. More certain for young Jim Goodwin, who like his father became a lawyer, or for Ed Goodwin Jr., who edits the newspaper his father publishes. For others, they simply are passing from the scene, like the street they knew for half a century.

Right-of-Way for Crosstown Expressway

SOMETIME, POSSIBLY about four years from now, an elevated eight-lane expressway will cross Greenwood Avenue between Brady and Cameron Streets.

Right-of-way for the project is now being cleared. This Tribune photo looks northwest along the construction path.

Greenwood enters the picture at the upper left, and the buildings in the right background are on Cameron.

The expressway will be about 30 feet above the ground as it crosses Greenwood.

It will carry the designation Interstate 244, and will be part of the Crosstown Expressway which forms the north side of a planned inner dispersal loop around the downtown area.

East of Greenwood, the project is taking nearly all the land between Cameron and Archer Streets as far east as the Texas & Pacific Railway (formerly the Midland valley) tracks.

The expressway will cross Archer Street and both the T&P and Santa Fe railroads east of Hartford Avenue.

West of Greenwood. the right-of-way runs northwesteriy, crossing Cameron before it gets to Frankfort Place.

Here is a section of the January 5, 1951, aerial photo showing Deep Greenwood.

Here is the same area, from the September 10, 1967, USGS aerial photo, taken just four months after the Tribune article. As you can see, the expressway cuts right through the heart of the Black Wall Street business district. Had planners moved the expressway a block further south or perhaps built over the broad Frisco right-of-way, Greenwood would not have lost its commercial heart. Who decided the exact route is a question worth investigating.

Here is the same area as it is today, from Google Maps.

The buff-brick building mentioned in the story is still the home of the Oklahoma Eagle, at 624 E. Archer St., the SW corner of Archer and Hartford. The mention of the theater and orchestra pit on that property sent me looking: Sanborn's 1915 map shows a single-story building labeled "moving pictures" on the south side of Archer just east of the north-south alleyway that split the block; that's west of the "new" Eagle building. 1939 and 1962 maps show a two-story building, about twice as deep as the theater, with rooms on the 2nd floor and two retail spaces on the first floor.

Here is the 1962 Sanborn map covering most of the area described in the article:

On the jump page are lists of businesses, from the 1957 Polk City Directory, on blocks that were affected by demolition. To add context, I've included buildings that were spared (at least spared by the expressway, but those buildings that were demolished for the expressway are shown in bold; italics indicates a business mentioned in the Tribune story. Even though this directory was published a decade before demolition, it's notable that so many businesses were still around 10 years later, persisting until the end. It's also notable that there were so many small, family-owned businesses and so many residences in such a concentrated area.

There was some excitement among Tulsa history buffs when it was learned that the Smithsonian Channel would be showing colorized clips from home movies showing Greenwood, Tulsa's historic African-American district, as it was in the mid-to-late1920s. Instead we have another instance of the erroneous notion I call the "Greenwood Gap Theory" -- the idea that Greenwood was never rebuilt after the riot -- this time being promulgated by one of America's most respected cultural institutions.

The Smithsonian Channel is not available on cable TV in Tulsa, but the program, "America in Color: The 1920s," is available to watch on the Smithsonian Channel website, free of charge. The segment on Greenwood begins about 16 minutes into the program and lasts about 90 seconds.

As American Heritage reported back in September 2006 (noted here on BatesLine a few days later), Oklahoma historian Currie Ballard had acquired 29 cans of film that had been taken by Solomon Sir Jones, a black Baptist preacher, who had been assigned by the National Baptist Convention "to document the glories of Oklahoma's black towns." Yale University has made the Solomon Sir Jones film collection available for viewing online. The stills above are from Film 18; the stills below, from the offices of the Oklahoma Eagle in 1927, are from Film 2.

It's disappointing that Arrow International Media (producers of this Smithsonian series) chose to present images of a prosperous Greenwood (and Muskogee) circa 1925, followed by film of the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot. The order of presentation and the narration leave the viewer with the impression that the riot destroyed the prosperity shown in the Jones films when in fact, the Jones films depict the triumphant resurgence of the Greenwood community after the riot.

It's understandable that a member of the general public, knowing about the 1921 Riot and seeing the area as it is today, might leap to the conclusion that Greenwood was never rebuilt. But the producers of the Smithsonian video had access to all the information they needed to tell the complete story.

Doug Miller of Müllerhaus Legacy, a publishing house in Tulsa, debunks the Smithsonian presentation with precision and passion.

I was initially excited today to see that the Smithsonian Channel was including Greenwood in a new documentary entitled "America in Color." But, upon watching the section that discussed Greenwood and the race riot, I was saddened to see an almost total misrepresentation of the the film footage. I immediately saw significant errors and omissions that, in my opinion, rob Greenwood of its rightful legacy.

As you'll read below, the mistakes are many and were so obvious that I can only assume they were made knowingly with the intention of elevating narrative above fact. It's a practice that has become common place in the news media today. Sadly, it has apparently also filtered down to historians. Before supposing that these errors don't really matter, I hope you'll read my entire post. I outline the errors that I think matter very much. And I explain why.

Miller lists and rebuts five egregious errors in the segment: (1) None of the footage shows Greenwood before the riot, as the narration implies. (2) Much of the street footage shown was actually from Muskogee, as Rev. Jones's meticulous title cards clearly indicate. (3) Greenwood's founding is misrepresented. (4) The riot is depicted as an attack motivated by universal white resentment against Greenwood's prosperity; the reality, documented in contemporary news sources, is much more complex.

The fifth error does the greatest cultural damage:

Fifth, and most damning: the film says nothing of Greenwood's rightful legacy. Perhaps I should not single out this film on this point. Most tellings of the Tulsa Race Riot are, in my opinion, guilty of doing the same. I have long been of the opinion that the rebuilding of Greenwood needs to take its rightful place as one of the single most powerful and inspirational stories of Black America's fight to overcome the injustice of segregation and racial inequity. When one fairly considers the breathtaking scope of the destruction, the speed of reconstruction, the opposition to rebuilding (even within the black community), and the defiant independence with which the community achieved all they did, one cannot help but be moved at the level of the soul.

Yet, while the story of the riot is advertised far and wide, very few Tulsans and even fewer outsiders know the glorious story of Greenwood's rebuilding. From my own personal interactions, I dare say that most Tulsans believe that Greenwood's history ended in 1921. Many people are shocked to find out that Greenwood reached its economic peak in 1941 and continued to thrive well into the 1960s.

No, the white mob did not win. Greenwood won. And that should be what every Tulsan remembers best about the legacy of Greenwood. It is a story of remarkable victory, not defeat and destruction. To say otherwise is to deny the inconceivable achievement of every African American father and business leader who died protecting their community and their families during that horrific event. And, who chose to defiantly stay in Tulsa to rebuild.

Miller is absolutely right on all points: Most people assume that the Riot is the reason that so little of Greenwood remains (and that the neighborood to the west is vacant except for a few eerie Steps to Nowhere).

Miller is right, too, that the rebuilding of Greenwood is an inspirational story of African-American resiliance, perserverance, and initiative in the face of violent racism that every Tulsan, every American ought to know.

So why is there this preference for the Greenwood Gap theory, the notion that "Greenwood's history ended in 1921"? Why is the rebuilding rarely mentioned in discussions of the Riot?

I have two hypotheses: One speaks to local political concerns and the other deals with national cultural sensitivies.

The local hypothesis is that Tulsa's civic and cultural leaders found it more pleasant to leave people with the incorrect impression that Greenwood was never rebuilt than to face their own culpability in its second destruction. If you remind people that Greenwood was rebuilt, bigger and better than before, according to eyewitness accounts, it raises a question in their minds: Why isn't it here anymore? And the answer to that question raises questions about decisions made, mainly in the late 1960s, by people who were still alive and active in city government and community affairs for decades afterward:

• Who signed off on the decision to run I-244 right through the heart of Deep Greenwood?
• Who decided that the Greenwood and Lansing Avenue commercial districts should be demolished?
• Who decided to demolish the original Booker T. Washington High School, a building that had survived the 1921 Riot?
• Why were the promises of new and better housing, retail, and community facilities never fulfilled?
• Who among African-American community leaders lent their support to these plans?
• How is it that a well-intentioned, progressive program like Model Cities, part of President Johnson's War on Poverty, resulted in the destruction of Black Wall Street?

It's easy to imagine city leaders thinking: Better that Tulsans should blame long-dead city leaders and anonymous rioters for the destruction of Greenwood than to wonder about the judgment of present-day leaders who signed off on its second destruction.

Some day, someone needs to write the history of urban renewal in Tulsa, with a particular focus on the Greenwood District and Model Cities.

But these local factors would not have influenced the writers and producers of the Smithsonian documentary.

This is the most generous spin I can put on it: They couldn't believe that Greenwood was rebuilt so quickly after the riot (or at all), so they assumed that the dates on the films were incorrect and that the scenes of prosperity predated 1921.

My hypothesis regarding Greenwood and national cultural sensitivites is twofold: First, that the story of Greenwood's reconstruction would undermine the left-wing narrative that only government action can right societal wrongs, which are the result of capitalism and individual liberty. This was the gist of OSU-Tulsa Professor J. S. Maloy's objection to my 2007 column about the Greenwood Gap theory, expressed in a letter to Urban Tulsa Weekly: "The free market will always indulge racism, ignorance, fear, and sheer pettiness of spirit in the name of profits. Only a democratic process--public investment constrained by public consultation--can do better." While his letter to UTW is not online, the original version of my rebuttal is here, detailing my sources and inviting him to do his own investigation. Maloy's apparent ideological commitment to the superiority of government action to voluntary action led him to disbelieve documentary evidence to the contrary.

Second, that the reconstruction of Greenwood and the resilience of its people raises uncomfortable questions about present-day American culture. If Tulsa's African-American community could rebuild within a year, despite government-imposed obstacles, despite the resurgent Ku Klux Klan, what was it about the character and social capital of that community that we lack today?

TAKE ACTION: Tulsans concerned about an accurate portrayal of Greenwood's resurgence can contact the Smithsonian Channel and urge them to issue a correction and to edit the narration and sequence to reflect the correct locations and chronology.

We would love to hear your thoughts. Send Smithsonian Channel your suggestions, comments, questions, and concerns to contact@smithsoniannetworks.com or call us at 844-SMITHTV (764-8488).

Citizen Jane, a film documenting the struggle to preserve Lower Manhattan from being destroyed by expressway construction in the 1960s, is currently showing at Tulsa's Circle Cinema. A special event at the 2:00 pm showing on Sunday, May 21, 2017, will pay tribute to Tulsa activist Betsy Horowitz, who led the successful fight to preserve Maple Ridge and River Parks from a planned expressway.

Jane Jacobs, a journalist by training and a Greenwich Village resident, turned her lessons learned fighting the city planners into a number of books that have stood the test of time, the most famous of which is The Death and Life of Great American Cities. It is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand what makes a neighborhood or district thrive and what makes it fail.

Citizen Jane is a timely tale of what can happen when engaged citizens fight the power for the sake of a better world. Arguably no one did more to shape our understanding of the modern American city than Jane Jacobs, the visionary activist and writer who fought to preserve urban communities in the face of destructive development projects. Director Matt Tyranuer (Valentino: The Last Emperor) vividly brings to life Jacobs' 1960s showdown with ruthless construction kingpin Robert Moses over his plan to raze lower Manhattan to make way for a highway, a dramatic struggle over the very soul of the neighborhood. The highway would have eliminated much of Washington Square Park and other Manhattan landmarks. Because of organized community opposition led by Jacobs, the project was dropped in 1969.

In Tulsa in the late 1960s, an outspoken Maple Ridge resident, Betsy Horowitz (1929-2009), similarly led the successful grassroots effort to oppose the Riverside Expressway that would have taken out historic Maple Ridge homes and Lee Elementary School, prevented the establishment of the Tulsa's River Parks and eliminated the opportunity for the current development of the much anticipated A Gathering Place. The Oklahoma Highway Department officially cancelled the expressway project in 1972. Betsy once stated that "to save Maple Ridge and Lee School was not just a dream of mine; it was a passion that became an obsession."

Circle Cinema has invited Andrew Horowitz, Betsy's son, to speak about his mother's efforts and passion after a screening of the film on Sunday, May 21, at 2pm. The Tulsa Historical Society will have a display of materials in the Circle lobby reflecting the events that unfolded during the battle over the proposed Riverside Expressway.

MORE:

Here's my tribute to Betsy Horowitz following her death in 2009. Unfortunately, the Goodbye Tulsa podcast interview (dead link) with Betsy's son Andrew Horowitz has vanished from the web; it wasn't captured by Internet Archive. (If someone has it, send it to me and I'll host it here.)

Here's my tribute to Jane Jacobs from 2006, which highlights three of her big ideas about cities and neighborhoods.

From 2005, my urban design reading list, which includes Jacobs's Death and Life of Great American Cities.

In 2011, Roberta Brandes Gratz, author of The Battle for Gotham, posted a thoughtful review of Jane Jacobs' legacy, in light of claims that she was responsible for NIMBYism.

A bit of good news to break up the election stuff:

Wayne McCombs, local baseball historian and executive director of the J.M. Davis Arms & Historical Museum in Claremore, is the subject of a profile in GTR Newspapers.

The profile by Terrel Lester begins with the story of McCombs's first encounter with the Davis collection, when he was a nine-year-old boy and the collection was still housed in the lobby of the Mason Hotel in downtown Claremore:

On a summer afternoon, air-conditioning and guns would be an inviting and double-barreled treat for rambunctious boys still shy of their teenage years.

They entered the lobby, cautiously, stealthily, if not so quietly. Looked around for the boss man.

Considering themselves alone, the boys encircled one of the most enticing pieces of Davis' collection of guns: The Gatling gun, rapid-fire linchpin of 19th-century army brigades and star of so many western movies.

As ringleader of the youngsters, Wayne McCombs remembered that he and his pals began imitating cavalry troops, rattling off sounds they thought mimicked the actions of the Gatling gun, whooping, jumping. One of his confederates even fell to the floor as if shot and wounded.

That was enough to rouse the heretofore silent and unseen James Monroe Davis.
"He stood up from behind his desk," McCombs said. "He saw us come in. He let us play for a little bit, but then it was time to get out.

The profile goes on to describe McCombs's career in radio at KWPR and KVOO, his work as University of Tulsa athletics promotion director during the exciting early '80s, his books on baseball history, his efforts as a Claremore civic leader, and his work, for the last seven years, to promote the J. M. Davis Museum.

McCombs routinely calls upon his marketing background for events to put, and keep, the museum in the public eye.

Along with the monthly appearance of western re-enactors, McCombs has installed such short-term exhibits as a collection of John Wayne movie posters and a tribute to the radio career of Billy Parker. In October, McCombs hosted a book-signing for former New York Yankees pitcher and Chelsea native Ralph Terry. Once or twice a year, McCombs plays host to a BB-gun shooting contest for youngsters.

"I was tired of hearing people say, 'I've been to the museum, but it's been a while. I haven't been back in years.'

"Well, I am trying to get people to come back to the museum," McCombs said.
When they do return, or even make their first trip, to the museum, patrons will find what McCombs and others often refer to as "an Oklahoma gem."

I've known Wayne going back to his time at TU, through Hal O'Halloran's Sports Night show on KXXO. It's always heartening to see someone find a role that is such a good fit for his skills and passions.

Found while looking for something else: In the Tulsa Library's growing digital archive, a December 22, 1983, Tulsa Tribune, story about the the Boston Beer Garden, destroyed by fire in the wee hours of December 21, 1983. The fire took the life of the bar's janitor and night watchman, Lennis Norman, 30.

The Boston Beer Garden was part of a cluster of small shops centering around the Five Points intersection at Haskell Street (now John Hope Franklin Blvd.), Main Street, and Boulder Avenue, and extending east along Haskell to Boston, the retail focus of the southern end of Tulsa's Near Northside neighborhood. I wrote about the neighborhood and its demolition in a 2014 feature story for This Land, called "Steps to Nowhere."

The story centers on an interview with Pauline Andrews, who, with her husband Howard Andrews, opened a sandwich shop on the northwest corner of Haskell & Boston in 1936. The following year Howard's father, George Andrews, opened the Boston Beer Garden next door. During his 10 years of ownership, the Boston Beer Garden was known for a courtyard of umbrella-shaded tables. Based on fire insurance maps, it appears that there was a building on the street front with the courtyard to the rear.

During this period, Oklahoma was officially "dry," but beer with less than 3.2% alcohol by weight was considered "non-intoxicating" and available for sale.

Shortly after I published "Steps to Nowhere," I attended a centennial celebration for Emerson Elementary School and spoke to a lady who had attended the school in the 1940s. She recalls walking with schoolmates down the alley between Main and Boston, heading toward an ice cream shop on the south side of Haskell, and hearing from over the fence the Boston Beer Garden's resident parrot, which had picked up some salty language from the customers. (Somewhere I have my notes from that conversation and the lady's name.)

It would be nice to see a beer garden in Tulsa once again. Properly situated, these can be pleasant community gathering places.

In San Antonio, they're called ice houses. The ice house has its origin in selling blocks of ice and, by the way, having some ice cold beer and pop on hand for thirsty customers. It's typically a small building with a walk-up window in the middle of a shady yard. During some extended travel there six years ago, I enjoyed stopping by The Friendly Spot, on S. Alamo Street in the King William District south of downtown. Huge live oaks provided a canopy for old-fashioned metal lawn chairs and tables. A miniature drive-in type screen at one end of the yard was used for movies and sports on TV. At the other end was a fenced-in playground -- Mom and Dad could relax with a beer and some street tacos while watching their kids on the swings. On most of my strolls I didn't stop in, but I always enjoyed walking past the pleasant scene of neighbors mingling.

If the city manages to pry the Near Northside out of the University Center at Tulsa Authority's cold, dead fingers, perhaps the redevelopment plan could include a beer garden at the corner of John Hope Franklin Blvd. and Boston Ave.

RELATED: Here's a January 3, 1969, article from the Tulsa Tribune, listing all the private clubs that had been granted city licenses for that year, with their addresses. The list includes country clubs (like Southern Hills), fraternal organizations (like the Elks Lodge and the American Legion), professional clubs (like the Tulsa Press Club and the Petroleum Club), downtown clubs (like the Tulsa Club and the Summit Club), the Rubiot, the Red Garter (in the Camelot Hotel), the Cognito Inn (11th & Denver), and even the House of Blue Lights (1616 N. Sheridan). The article is a concise bit of history naming and placing some long-forgotten establishments. Private clubs could serve liquor by the drink (often referred to as "liquor-by-the-wink") but only to members; ordinary bars were BYOL.

MORE: Bill Leighty remembers the Boston Beer Garden in his reminiscences of his childhood in the neighborhood during the late '40s and early '50s:

The Boston Beer Garden was a popular haunt for neighborhood men and my Dad would occasionally go there with some of his friends or guys he worked with. I don't think my mom really felt comfortable there and she seldom ever went with them. It had a bit of a reputation as being a rowdy place in those days. I don't think fights among patrons were terribly uncommon in those days.

MORE: Here's the text of that 1983 Tribune story:

I've been reading a very interesting book, The Jazz of the Southwest: An Oral History of Western Swing by Jean A. Boyd (1998, University of Texas Press). Boyd is professor of musicology at Baylor University. The book begins by tracing the overall history of the genre, as it began in Texas in the 1930s, the musical streams from which it drew, and the men who shaped the music in its infancy.

Each of the remaining chapters of the book is devoted to a particular instrument. Boyd provides a historical overview of the instrument's involvement in western swing and the early musicians who helped to define its role. She then tells the story of several players, drawn from her interviews with them. For example, the chapter on fiddlers spotlights Cliff Bruner, Carroll Hubbard, Buddy Ray, Jimmy Thomason, Johnny Gimble, Bobby Bruce, Curly Lewis, Clyde Brewer, and Bobby Boatright. While Bob Wills and his many Texas Playboys sidemen are prominently featured, Boyd's book has introduced me to bands and musicians that are new to me and whose music I hope to find at some point.

The Baylor University Institute for Oral History has made complete transcripts of many of the interviews available online. While there is a Western Swing collection, that tag doesn't include some interviews with western swing musicians, so the best way to find all of them is to search for interviews conducted by Boyd or by historian David Stricklin (son of original Texas Playboys pianist Al Stricklin).

Interviews by Jean Boyd
Interviews by David Stricklin

Here are direct links to a few among many interesting transcripts:

Betty Anderson Wills, wife of Bob Wills
Original Texas Playboys: Smoky Dacus, Al Stricklin, Eldon Shamblin, Joe Frank Ferguson, Leon McAuliffe (1985)
Eldon Shamblin, guitarist, arranger, band manager (1992)
Herb Remington, steel guitar
Curly Lewis, fiddler and vocalist
Cindy Walker, songwriter
Dean Moore, vocalist and widow of mandolinist Tiny Moore; Truitt Cunningham, vocalist; Burl Taylor

Some entries (e.g. Dean Moore, Curly Lewis) have the recordings available on the right sidebar for online streaming.

MORE: The Baylor University Institute for Oral History has helpful resources for anyone wanting to learn to conduct, transcribe, and preserve oral history interviews.

Jean Boyd has written two more books of western swing history: We're the Light Crust Doughboys from Burrus Mill, and Dance All Night: Those Other Southwestern Swing Bands, Past and Present.

Tulsans will have two chances this month to sample the movie-going experience as it was almost a century ago, thanks to the Sooner State Chapter of the American Theatre Organ Society.

This coming Saturday, January 9, 2016, at 11 a.m., Circle Cinema will screen the 1927 film It, starring Clara Bow, who became known as "The 'It' Girl," and the first episode of the serial The Master Mystery, starring legendary magician Harry Houdini. Admission is $5 for adults, $2 for 16 and under. This is part of the "Second Saturday Silents at the Circle Cinema" series. Circle Cinema is at 10 S. Lewis in Whittier Square.

A week from this Friday, January 15, 2016, at 7:00 p.m., the Sooner State Chapter will present Robin Hood, the 1922 version starring Douglas Fairbanks, at the Broken Arrow campus of Tulsa Technology Center, 111th St & 129th East Ave. The movie was the most expensive production of its day. Bill Rowland will accompany the film on the Robert-Morton pipe organ, an instrument originally installed in the Capital Theatre in Steubenville, Ohio, in 1927. Admission, popcorn, and lemonade are free, but donations are gratefully accepted.

MORE MUSIC: A couple of musical events worthy of note:

Tonight, Wednesday, January 6, 2016, 7 p.m. to 9 p.m., Shelby Eicher is hosting a gypsy jazz concert (in the tradition of Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli) at the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame (in the old Tulsa Union Depot, 1st & Boston downtown). Admission is $10.

Tomorrow night, Thursday, January 7, 2016, at 7:30 p.m., the Memorial High School Choir will present Mozart's Coronation Mass and Regina Coeli for their 33rd annual Vocal Music Masterworks Concert at Holy Family Cathedral, 8th & Boulder downtown.

Miss Jackson's, one of Tulsa's oldest continuously operating businesses, closed its doors today. The boutique, which catered to wealthy women, was founded in downtown Tulsa in 1910, was located from 1928 to 1965 in the Philtower at 5th and Boston, and relocated to Utica Square in 1965, on a site formerly occupied by Utica Bowl. (The transition from bowling alley to upscale boutique was a harbinger for the transformation of Utica Square from basic suburban shopping center -- which once had a Safeway, an OTASCO, and a T. G. & Y. -- to high-end fashion center.)

Miss Jackson's management announced in late October that the store would be closing in January.

Miss Jackson's included a fur salon and off-season cold storage for furs and a penthouse salon (leased departments, both of which will be continuing in other locations), cosmetics, imported chocolate, items for the home, jewelry, and ladies' apparel.

The store's self-description on the Utica Square website:

Tulsa's tradition for 100 years. The finest gifts, home accessories, cosmetics and designer clothing.

From chocolates to china, cosmetics to crystal, Miss Jackson's is your source for every indulgence. Find top fashion and fine jewelry in all price ranges, for any age. One of Tulsa's finest women's luxury emporiums, Miss Jackson's offers professional alterations, gift registry, gift wrapping and engraving. There is only one you, and only one Miss Jackson's. Visit us soon at Utica Square.

I went into Miss Jackson's exactly once, to pick up a wedding gift that a friend had ordered for us.

Nathan Presley's promotional film for the store's final Christmas season gives you a good look around the store, albeit in black-and-white. The model is Luiza Farber.

The Late Shopper - A Miss Jacksons film from Nathan Presley on Vimeo.

A blog entry from "B. on Brand" recounts a visit to Miss Jackson's:

Long before the world was taken over by major luxury giants, there existed the small fine goods retailer, shops that felt more like a gracious suburban home rather than a department store. Cities across the United States were anchored by such stores where generations of men and women shopped because of the personalized service, and because buyers knew their clients so well, they would make buys with certain customers in mind....

The store, located in Tulsa's upscale Utica Square, could almost be a set piece for a scene from Mad Men. A gleaming white midcentury building with its distinctive, cursive "Miss Jackson's" sign could easily be where a perfectly coiffed Betty Draper shops for a party frock. Inside, it's all suburban colonial, with white columns and moldings, wallpaper, and brass fittings. The store is filled with upholstered chairs, sweeping credenzas, big bold table lamps, and slightly over-the-top mid-century artwork....

Women in Tulsa speak of Miss Jackson's in reverent tones. "They make you feel like a princess," says Beverly Anderson, a business consultant who was born and raised in Tulsa and is very much a Miss Jackson's loyalist.

She began shopping at the store over forty years ago with her mother. "You're put in a large, comfortable dressing room, given a coke or a glass of wine - always with a straw -- and then someone races around the store and brings you gorgeous designer clothes to try on."

That "someone" is usually a sales associate who knows you well - and your closet even better. They know the names of your parents, your children, and where you went on holiday....

On a recent visit with Beverly the store hummed with activity, most of it from the plentiful sales associates who bustled about the small store arranging stock and meeting with merchants. "Good afternoon Miss Beverly," which was then echoed from sales associates scattered about the store. Virtually every customer who entered was greeted by name, often followed by lengthy conversation.

We were served Cokes in tall glasses emblazoned with the Miss Jackson's logo, and yes, with a straw. Beverly shared stories with a sales associate about her son, her life, and yes, even the status of her closet.

Indeed, Beverly's closets are testament to the power of Miss Jackson's on Tulsan women: several decades worth of carefully preserved clothes, all with the distinctive Miss Jackson's label sewn in, as prominent stores used to do....

The article describes the departments on each floor, mentions the store's wide range of designers represented in its relatively small size (33,000 sq. ft. of selling space), and notes its "trunk shows," featuring the work of a particular designer, "many hosted by the designers themselves."

According to the Miss Jackson's Facebook page, the stylists from the store's Penthouse Salon have relocated to 1619 S. Peoria. The fur salon, a sister store to Koslow's in Oklahoma City, is looking for a permanent home but will host a hotel sale later this month.

MORE:

Miss Jackson's Facebook page has some photos from the store's history as well as promotions for sales events over the last few years.

On the store's centenary, Tulsa People posted a Miss Jackson's timeline and a profile of Miss Jackson's history.

Photo at the top of this entry from the Instagram account of __pineappleprincess. Photo of the Philtower sign from the Miss Jackson's Facebook account.

A 2012 story on The List featured Miss Jackson's window displays, interviewing visual director Stacy Suvino and art director Rachel Everett.

Delta Air Lines' Sky magazine included Miss Jackson's in a list of about a dozen Tulsa shopping highlights.

A memorial service for Lee Roy Chapman will be held Wednesday, October 14, 2015, at 4:00 p.m. at Cain's Ballroom. All are welcome. A fund for the benefit of his five-year-old son, Kasper, has been set up at GoFundMe. Friends are sharing memories on the "Remembering Lee Roy Chapman" page on Facebook. I've posted his curriculum vitae on a separate page and will add links as I am able.

Thursday night I got the news that Tulsa historian and artist Lee Roy Chapman had died. He was 46. Tulsa lost a passionate curator and narrator of its history, someone who delved into aspects of our city's past that aren't publicized as points of pride.

I first met Lee Roy at Coffee House on Cherry Street some years ago. This intense but soft spoken man with dark eyes and the bushy brown beard of a prophet introduced himself, squatted next to the table where I was writing and gave me two small pinback buttons, as he told me about his effort to rename the Brady District to honor Bob Wills. The buttons featured his own graphic art. One of the two buttons featured a jubilant Bob Wills, cigar in hand, superimposed with the word "REVOLT!" in yellow lightning-bolt letters.

The other button featured Bob Wills' 1948 Flxible Clipper tour bus, which he had traced to a field near Big Spring, Texas. Lee Roy hoped to bring the bus back to Tulsa, restore it, put it on exhibit, and take it on tour. He put an option on the bus to hold it until he could raise the money to bring it home. In June 2013, with the help of Loren Frederick, Bob's bus returned to Tulsa.

While I didn't always agree with the conclusions he drew, I always appreciated the passion and persistence Lee Roy brought to digging out the facts and then presenting his findings to the public in a compelling way.

For example, in 2011, Lee Roy and a team of people converted the storefront at 13 E. Brady, the location of Benny's Billiards in Francis Ford Coppola's Rumblefish and turned it into an art installation about the film. A video about the installation (embedded below) caught the attention of Chilean author Alberto Fuguet, who had been inspired by Rumblefish to write about the ordinary stuff of life. Fuguet had been working on a documentary about the film and its influence on Latin American writers and filmmakers. Fuguet had visited Tulsa a few months earlier and had been frustrated by his inability to connect with locals who loved and appreciated the film. Through the installation video, Fuguet connected with Chapman, who became his second-unit director, gathering footage of Rumblefish locations around Tulsa and allowing Fuguet to complete his homage, Locaciones: Buscando a Rusty James.

A man in the video says, "Lee Roy Chapman should be applauded for doing this.... That kind of energy and spirit really embodies what Tulsa is all about, in my mind, the best part of Tulsa."

I suspect that Rumblefish never caught the imagination of mainstream Tulsans because it was a Tulsa that had almost entirely succumbed to the urban renewal wrecking ball, a Tulsa that early '80s suburban mall rats didn't recognize as their own city.

Chapman was passionate about another body of artwork that mainstream Tulsa has ignored, the work of another curator of Tulsa's seamier side, photographer Larry Clark, whose 1971 book Tulsa depicted a teen underworld of drugs, guns, and sex. Chapman tried to persuade with Clark to do a retrospective of his work in Tulsa, as he had done in Paris, but without success; instead Chapman created a "guerrilla art installation," posting three-foot-by-five-foot prints of all of the images in the book in the ruins of the Big Ten Ballroom in north Tulsa. Photographer Western Doughty interviewed Chapman about the installation and published it in two parts on his blog: Part 1, Part 2. Here's what Chapman had to say about Tulsa's reaction to Tulsa, which gives you a sense of Chapman's own artistic mission:

[Clark's] work is representative of a whole side of Tulsa that still remains unseen. If it is ever seen by anyone, it's mocked. Tulsa tries to represent itself as this myriad of things, the first of which was the "Oil Capital of the World", but working to represent to the world wealth, class, prestige, and culture, there is a price; the working class has paid a price for that. And this book shows that price, all the drugs and violence, and all those excesses that come with being a part of the working class society. You're at war with main stream society, you're at war with the cops, and sometimes you're at war with yourself, and you can see that in the pages of this book. And for the book to be as well known, as influential as it has been, and for Tulsa not to have any representation of it here at all, not to have even tried, it's beyond neglect....

But the people who run the arts here, they want what every other city has. They want the A-lister stuff; they don't want anything that's organic. The formula has been that you have to move from here to become successful in the art world, either New York or L.A. I think some of that's changing, though, now....

Asked by Doughty if Clark's work had influenced him personally, Chapman replied:

Yeah, of course it has, to know that there is somebody living and running in not the same circles, but in similar circles, and has seen some of the things that I have. He was really one of the first photographers that documented the scene he was within, not coming as a photographer-colonizer. You know, "Oh, what a weird bunch. I think I'll take pictures of them." He was exposing his own secret. So I think that's the sign of a true artist, too. Of course, when you're dealing with other people, there are repercussions to that. But it's, for one, made me want to stay here in Tulsa and create, rather than going somewhere else. Two, it's made me want to force it on eyes that don't want to see it; I just think it's that important, not necessarily just his work, but that kind of work, that kind of organic, dirty, real work that only comes from the bottom up.

Chapman's last blog entry was about the Lew Clark Photography Studio on the west side of Peoria south of 15th Street. Lew and his wife Fran were Larry Clark's parents, and the little house that served as their studio, with the clock above the door and lighted portraits on display through the front windows, was a neighborhood landmark until a few years ago, when it was demolished for a parking lot.

It was Chapman who called attention to Tate Brady's connections to the Ku Klux Klan and vigilante justice. His exposé led to a public debate about Tulsa's founding father and the street, district, and neighborhood named in his honor. The debate received international attention and led to a compromise that left no one happy.

Chapman did some work for the George Kaiser Family Foundation (this silkscreen etching of Bob Wills from 2013) but that didn't stop him from taking some jabs at the billionaire and his incongruous ownership of Communist singer/songwriter Woody Guthrie's archives.

An inscribed first edition of Atlas Shrugged was found by George Kaiser, the billionaire banker and philanthropist, as he was unloading the materials from the back of truck last week.... Ms. Rand penned a nasty note on the title page; "Woody, you're a filthy [*******] hick. I hope you do gather all the poor together one day so they'll be easier to kill. One day a banker will own you. - Ayn"....

---

George Kaiser Family Foundation is kicking out the big bucks for a large scale mural of Woody Guthrie on the Tulsa Paper Company building, soon to be home of the Kaiser owned Woody Guthrie Archives, in the Brady Arts District. Is this mural supposed to offset the fact that the Guthrie Green and the entire district, has no representation or historic relevance to the park's namesake?

The original namesake for the green was to be the same as the district where the park is located, W. Tate Brady, architect of the Tulsa Race Riot and a founder of the Tulsa Ku Klux Klan.

---

This guitar's owned by George Kaiser

Woody Guthrie's 1930 Slingerland May Bell is owned by the Woody Guthrie Archives in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I'll betcha Woody wrote Jolly Banker on this one.

Lee Roy worked with the libraries of Yale, Duke, and the University of Tulsa, finding for and selling to these institutions books and ephemera relating to Tulsa history. Thanks to his efforts, Yale and Duke Universities have copies of the limited-printing original edition of Mary Parrish's first-hand account of the Tulsa race riot.

Last year, Lee Roy was kind enough to give me a sneak preview of an album of photos that were taken in the Greenwood District as it was being rebuilt following the 1921 Race Riot. The photos showed stylishly dressed African-American young adults posing in Deep Greenwood, out in the countryside, and at what may have been the Acme brick pits. These photos are now in the University of Tulsa McFarlin Library Special Collections and viewable online.

My last interaction with Lee Roy was indirect. A few weeks ago, my wife and youngest son were driving down 15th Street in the middle of the day when she noticed that Oak Tree Books was open. She had bought some bookshelves when the store was going out of business and was surprised to see it open, so she stopped in. Lee Roy was there. They chatted about books, children (he has a son a few years younger than ours), schools and homeschooling, and music. When he figured out that they were connected to me, he handed her a cassette album to pass along to me: "The Bob Wills Story: The Life and Music of the King of Western Swing," narrated by Hugh Cherry. There's a little Post-It stuck to the front: "Michael -- hope yr well. Lee Roy Chapman."

("The Bob Wills Story" is available for listening online at bobwillsradio.com.)

I was out of town at the time on an extended business and personal trip. I had intended to stop by and thank Lee Roy when I got back in town a week ago Tuesday, but getting back into the routine of family life distracted me, and it slipped my mind. And now it's too late.

The doors of The Marquee on North Main in Tulsa. Silkscreen art by Lee Roy Chapman, from a portion of a photo of Bob Wills in Indian headdress, when he was honored by the Osage Tribe. Photo found at topix.net.

MORE:

Michael Mason of This Land Press posts a tribute, entitled "Lee Roy Chapman Is Still the King":

Last week brought the news that historian and journalist Lee Roy Chapman has passed away. Among the many roles he fulfilled, Chapman was a contributing editor at This Land and delivered some of our most well-known articles. He also hosted the Public Secrets video series, and was an ongoing resource in numerous other pieces. A polarizing yet beloved figure, Chapman leaves behind a rich legacy of scholarly work and groundbreaking journalism.

Below are links to the many works Chapman authored, along with videos in which he appeared. Besides being a skilled professional, Chapman was also a beloved colleague to many of us at This Land Press.

If your life has been enriched by Chapman's work, please consider donating to the Lee Roy Chapman Memorial Fund, the proceeds of which will go to the support of his son, Kasper Henry Chapman, age 5.

UPDATE 2015/10/13:

The Tulsa World and the Tulsa World Alumni Association have each posted an item about Lee Roy.

UPDATE 2015/10/20:

The video shown at Lee Roy's memorial, produced by Matt Leach, has been posted to Facebook. (I can't embed it here.)

Connor Raus has posted video of Lee Roy Chapman's 12-minute presentation "Twenty Shades of History Recovery" during PechaKucha 20x20 at Living Arts of Tulsa on April 12, 2013. It covers a range of topics, including the Race Riot, the impact of Brady District gentrification on the historic Greenwood District, Larry Clark, The White Dove Review, The Outsiders, Rumblefish, and Bob Wills's tour bus. It's a good overview of Lee Roy's range of interests and attitude.

So this is what I do. I read about this stuff, research it, and drive around and find this stuff. Some people care. Some people don't care. It doesn't pay. It's, like, horrible. I'm chronically unemployed. I'm obsessed....

In the Warsaw Ghetto, I don't think there's, like, an arts district named after Adolf Hitler. But Tate Brady is one of the few people that we know that actually participated in the Tulsa Race Riot, and did numerous other things.... If Woody Guthrie knew that he was in the Brady District, he would burn that park down....

Institutions aren't really that interested that much in what organically comes out of Tulsa. It's like it has to come from somewhere else....

(A quibble: To say that Tate Brady "participated" in the riot seems intended to lead the listener to conclude that Brady was part of the white mob that descended on Greenwood, killing African-Americans and torching their homes and businesses. But elsewhere Chapman says that Brady's participation was to stand guard on Main Street, well away from the battle lines, joining his neighbors in defending their buildings from any rioters. Some of the "numerous other things" that Chapman mentions were far more morally blameworthy -- his participation in the 1917 tarring and feathering of labor union activists, his membership in the Klan, his efforts to block the rebuilding of Greenwood after the riot -- but Chapman seemed to understand that saying that Brady "participated in the riot" communicated his unworthiness of honor in a way that needed no further explanation.)

UPDATE 2015/10/22:

Tributes to Lee Roy Chapman from friends, compiled by Josh Kline of The Tulsa Voice.

What follows is mainly from Lee Roy Chapman's LinkedIn profile. I thought that his list of accomplishments and the tributes from the people who worked with him needed a more permanent location. (You can read my tribute to Lee Roy Chapman here.) I will be adding to the list and adding links to articles and videos. Anything I've added is in italics.

Lee Roy Chapman is an independent scholar, journalist and historian specializing in the recovery of forgotten histories. In 2008, he established the Center for Public Secrets, a curated collection of artifacts that explores the sub-popular culture of Oklahoma. A longtime student of Oklahoma history with a special emphasis on race relations, art, and radical histories, Chapman has authored several articles that have received global attention. In 2011, he published "The Nightmare of Dreamland: Tate Brady and the Battle for Greenwood" in This Land magazine, which revealed that a founder of Tulsa was also an architect of the city's most violent hate crime--the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921. The article was lauded by historians such as Alfred Brophy and Scott Ellsworth, and has been cited by media companies ranging from National Public Radio to The Guardian.

Aside from his writings, Chapman has also produced and hosted several independent documentaries in which he discusses topics ranging from the Sex Pistols and the New York School of Poets to the art of Larry Clark as well as the hidden mass graves of African Americans in Tulsa. As a curator, Chapman has also located and acquired a number of important historical artifacts and artworks that now reside in university libraries and museums.

Chapman also frequently lectures in public and private forums, and has spoken to groups ranging from grade school students to university classrooms. His in-depth research into an eclectic range of subjects has earned him a reputation as an authority on Oklahoma culture and he regularly consults with foundations, companies, and private groups.

Creator
Center for Public Secrets
January 1999 - Present (16 years 10 months)TULSA

Curatorial:

• 2008 "Public Secrets ," Liggett Studios, Tulsa, OK


• 2009 "Gaylord Herron"​


• 2010 "The editors are not hipsters," Circle Cinema, Tulsa, OK. Warhol Screen Test


• 2011 "Larry Clark's Tulsa," Public Installation, Tulsa, OK.


• 2011 "Motorcyle Boy's Never Coming Back, " Bennie's Billiards [pop up] East End Gallery, Tulsa, OK. An autonomous installation featuring the work of S.E. Hinton, Francis Coppola and Gaylord Herron


• 2012 "Strangelove: An evening of Cold War Fear and Propaganda," [pop up], Church of the Christian Crusade, Tulsa, OK. Curated artifacts regarding radio pioneer Billy James Hargis Pop Up


• 2012 "Tulsa Time: The Graphic Legacy of Brian Thompson" Tulsa, OK. Presentation of iconic concert posters from an iconic artist.


• 2014 "This is not a Larry Clark Show," Arts and Humanities Center of Tulsa, OK. Video installation from James Payne and photography by Nick Haynes.


• 2014 "Locaciones: The influence of S.E. Hinton on South American culture," East Village Gallery, Tulsa, OK. Featuring photography from Western Doughty, Joe Cervantes and Gaylord Herron


• 2015 Let's Get Lost/Chet Baker Installation Yale, Oklahoma - Pending

Acquisitions:

2009 Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys 1948 Tour Bus
(private collector)

2010 Ted Berrigan's contributor's copy of the White Dove Review
McFarlin Library/University of Tulsa

2011 A collection of Tulsa School of Poets printed materials
University of Tulsa McFarlin Library's Special Collections

2012 The Leon Russell Archive/Steve Todoroff Collection
OKPOP/Oklahoma Historical Society

2014 Events of the Tulsa Disaster
David Ruebenstein Library/Duke University

2014 Archive of 124 Greenwood reconstruction photographs from 1922
McFarlin Library/University of Tulsa

2014 Alvin Krupnick 1921 Race Riot Relief 8x10 photo
McFarlin Library/University of Tulsa

2015 B.C. Franklin Race Riot typescript, photos, scrapbooks
Smithsonian/NMAAHC

2015 Events of the Tulsa Disaster by Mary Jones Parrish
Beinecke/Yale University

Contributing Editor
This Land Press
February 2011 - December 2014 (3 years 11 months)Tulsa, Oklahoma Area

Writer, producer and host of Public Secrets video and print series.

Articles:

• "The Nightmare of Dreamland: Tate Brady and the Battle for Greenwood," September 2011, This Land


• "The Drexel Building," January, 2011, This Land


• "Anarchy in the OK: The Sex Pistols in Tulsa," January 2012, This Land


• "Who's Afraid of Elohim City," April 2012, This Land (with Josh Kline)


• "Meet the Clarks," November 2012, This Land


• "The Strange Love of Dr. Billy James Hargis," November 2012, This Land


• "Subterranean Psychonaut: The Strange and Dreadful Saga of Gordon Todd Skinner," July 2013, This Land (with Michael Mason and Chris Sandel)

Video:

• "Public Secrets: The White Dove Review" 2011 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Larry Clark's Tulsa" 2011 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Pantoja's Driving Lesson" 2011 This Land TV


• "Larry Clark's Return to Tulsa," 2012, Field Guide Media


• "Public Secrets: Joe Brainard" 2012 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Calvary Cemetery" 2012 This Land TV*


• "Public Secrets: Woody Guthrie" 2012 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Tate Brady" 2012 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Mass Graves" 2012 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Sex Pistols" 2012 This Land TV


• "Public Secrets: Historic Greenwood 40 Blocks" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: 1921 Tulsa Race Riots Reconnaissance Survey" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: Guthrie Green Park" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: Train Derailment" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: Cement Plaques" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: The Stem" 2013 BeInformedTV


• "Public Secrets: Standpipe Hill" 2013 BeInformedTV

Research and Discovery
Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of African American History and Culture
May 2010 - May 2013 (3 years 1 month) Tulsa

Locating and acquiring information and artifacts for the Smithsonian Institution's NMAAHC.

Second Unit Director
Cinepata
June 2012 - July 2012 (2 months)Tulsa

Second unit director for Alberto Fuguet's Locaciones

"Mr. Chapman is a mind and a human engine to reckon with. He is outstanding in his brilliance, full of humor and wit, determined to tackle history and see it with new eyes and force of human empathy and drive.

I was able to meet and work with Lee Roy in a documentary I made on the symbiosis between Tulsa and the Francis Ford Coppola movie Rumble Fish. Lee Roy, as a advocate for Tulsa´s history and a historian and editor of the outstanding journal This Land helped me immensely, opened his heart and contacts and ended up being my director of second unit once I was back in Chile and felt I needed extra footage.

Lee Roy has turned is unfathomable knowledge about Tulsa and Oklahoma in
general in a creative way. He´s more than a historian or an academic; he is a writer,
a chronicler, a raconteur, a filmmaker and an over-all achiever. I know that when my
film was selected at the Telluride Film Festival last year, and was presented by
Francis Coppola, that Lee Roy was the one who helped get there."
- Alberto Fuguet

Research Specialist
Raisin Cain LLC
2010 - 2012 (2 years)

Research and development
Exhibits
Panhandle Plains Historical Museum
2006 - 2007 (1 year)

Assisted in the creation and production of artifact displays.

Acquisitions and Sales
Oak Tree Books
1998 - 2004 (6 years)

Locating, grading, mending, protecting, pricing, cataloging and selling rare and out of print books. Specializing in Native American and Oklahoma histories.

Lead Printer
Wackyland/Artrock/Frank Kozik
1993 - 1994 (1 year)

Pre-press, production and post-production of fine art serigraphs and rock posters. Prints are now part of University of Texas, Cooper-Hewitt Museum of Design, RocknRoll Hall of Fame and Cain's Ballroom.

Recommendations:

Cecil Cloud III
Photographer

Lee Roy Chapman: Dogged pursuer of truth, finder of artifacts, artist and independent filmmaker. A rare combination of knowledge, skill and determination,
always seeking a challenge. The man to turn to for obscure information and forgotten documents.

Dean Williams
Chairman, Williams & Williams

Lee Roy has an artist's perception regarding location - the space where people, land and buildings interact; and a curator's instinct for what's relevant thereto. His passion for truth discovery is a courageous guide to what matters, regardless of the "winners" to date and powers that be that otherwise, and too often impersonally, impose their stamp at whatever costs. Lee Roy is an Oklahoma treasure, in that by stewarding what's just he also quite personally insures all that is creative and possible as between people and this land.

Michael Mason
Editor, author, journalist

The combination of unparalleled knowledge of his subjects along with the ability to endow his work & research with broad vision makes Chapman a singular person in his field, and one of Oklahoma's best resources on matters relating to history and culture.

Paul Gardullo
Museum Curator at Smithsonian Institution - National Museum of African American History and Culture

I continue to benefit from Lee Roy Chapman's expertise about Tulsa's and Oklahoma's history. Lee Roy is an outstanding writer and researcher whose skills in digging up crucial archives, stories, contacts and collections have proven invaluable to my work at the Smithsonian.

Silvio Canihuante
Productor Audiovisual

Lee Roy and his partner Jeremy Lamberton did a wonderful job shooting for three nights in Tulsa, OK. They went to awesome places, looking for the original locations of Rumble Fish, which was shot at Tulsa. Lee Roy as the director of the 2nd unit of documentary "Locations: Looking for Rusty James"

MORE:

This Land Press has posted an item with links to many more of Lee Roy's articles and videos: "Lee Roy Chapman is still the king"

Lee Roy Chapman Flickr photostream: 511 photos from 2009 and 2010, including photos of the charred ruins of the Admiral Twin's original screens, images from the White Dove Review, an autographed copy of Stride Toward Freedom by Martin Luther King Jr. and a program from his appearance at the 1960 Tulsa Freedom Rally, portions of the Bible in Choctaw, a biography of Sequoyah, books about Indian land allotments, Bob Wills 1948 tour bus (including the title), and Chapman's own artwork in various media.

If you've driven down Lewis Avenue between 51st and 61st Street in the last week, you might have been as surprised as I was to see a church in that part of town advertising its 100th anniversary. Southern Hills Baptist Church doesn't look a day over 60, and indeed it was in 1955 that the church moved to its current location, about the time that US 66 was rerouted to Skelly Drive just north of 51st and Tulsa's southward suburban spread reached this area. The church's history is a reminder of the rural communities -- shops, churches, and homes clustered around a rural schoolhouse, acting as a nucleus for a farming community -- that were absorbed by the expanding city and in some cases erased from the map.

According to the Southern Hills Baptist Church website:

Southern Hills Baptist Church was founded January 17, 1915 as Bethel Baptist Church following a meeting of the delegates of First Baptist Church of Tulsa, OK who were led by Pastor L. E. Floyd. The meeting was held at the Bethel Union School House located at 51st and Lewis Ave. At the first meeting, articles of faith and a church covenant were adopted along with the times of meeting being the first and third Sundays of each month. The Reverend James T. Brattin of Barry Co., Mo. was elected moderator and George Lane of Tulsa, appointed church clerk. Following the meeting the 21 area families were presented as founding membership.

The church continued to meet at Bethel Union School House until 1924 when the congregation voted to purchase 2 ½ acres of land on the southeast corner of 51st and Lewis Ave. A brown brick two story building was constructed that would serve as the place of worship for the members of Bethel Baptist Church for the next 32 years. The church survived tough times during the depression of the 1930's and the 2nd World War. During this period, pastors were hard to find and keep.

Between 1942 and 1952, many changes occurred. There was a mortgage burning in 1944; installation of the first organ in 1947; a parsonage was built on the property in 1950; the first church bus purchased in 1950; the first library started in 1952; and later, in December, 1954, due to a changing world, the first locks were installed on the church building.

The first mention of a possible move to a new location was made in January, 1952 and a committee was appointed to seek a location. A five acre parcel of land at 56th and Lewis Avenue, just a half mile south, was purchased in 1955 for a new building and the name was changed on May 1, 1955 from Bethel Baptist Church to Southern Hills Baptist Church. June 8, 1955 began a period of worship in the "Canvas Cathedral" as the church purchased a 50' x 80' tent for use during the transitional period. The old Bethel Baptist Church site was sold in November 1955 to George Fikes of Fikes Food Stores. Ground breaking for a new sanctuary and educational space at 56th and Lewis took place on April 15, 1956.

A web search turned up a cached photo of Bethel Baptist Church at its old location. From the terrain and shadows, I'm guessing that it faced Lewis and sat some distance south of 51st.

The history above mentions Bethel Union School as the site of the church's founding. The school sat on the northeast corner of 51st and Lewis.

The first newspaper reference I can find to Bethel Union school is on September 14, 1906, in the first anniversary edition of the Tulsa Daily World. The school had hosted a meeting of the Indian Territory Republican committee. The paper called the group "the voice of the farmer" and said that "Republicanism is much in evidence in that part of the country." (The same front page celebrates the awarding of the first street railway franchise in Tulsa to Charles H. Bosler of Dayton with construction of between four to six miles of track for $50,000 to $75,000.

The "remodeled and enlarged" Bethel Union school was dedicated on September 6, 1914. It had been a one-room schoolhouse, but the "public spirited [school board] members" decided to make it a graded school, adding a second room and constructing it so that the two rooms could be joined to serve as an auditorium and host church services on Sundays.

A July 26, 1916, news story reports that the Bethel Union schoolhouse had been damaged by the explosion of a truck carrying nitroglycerin, and the board voted to build a new brick structure to replace the damaged building.

News stories frequently mention the school as the site of agricultural meetings, for example, this "Farmers' Day" meetings hosted by J. P. Harter, the Tulsa County government farmer at Bethel Union and Alsuma schools on December 13, 1912. On July 12, 1913, the school hosted a series of speakers urging good roads for Tulsa County, including Judge L. M. Poe, who was to speak on "good roads without bond issues."

An inset of the 1937 state highway department map of Tulsa County shows Lewis as a paved road leading to Jenks, and, around 51st and Lewis, five businesses, a school (Bethel Union), a church (Bethel Baptist), and numerous gravel and dirt side roads lined with homes. Note that Joe Creek, cutting diagonally from near 51st and Harvard to near 61st and Lewis, was then labeled Jill Creek.

OKGenWeb has photos of Bethel Union school's front door in May 1940 and the school bus in front of the building. That site states that the brick building that was later Paul Revere School was built in 1922.

Many years later -- perhaps after consolidation with the Tulsa school district -- Bethel Union School became known as Paul Revere Elementary School. A blogger recalls walking north on Atlanta Place to Paul Revere School and encountering hundreds of monarch butterflies one autumn morning.

My 3rd Grade Little League team played (and almost beat!) Revere's team in the spring of 1972, but because they had no green space big enough for a baseball diamond, we played the game at (if I recall correctly) Heller Park.

Paul Revere School had been spared demolition in the 1950s -- it was wedged between Skelly Bypass (I-44) and 51st Street, and the bypass swerved north as it cut through the hill to pass under Lewis Ave. The building was demolished in the 1980s to make way for Western National Bank's tower, which in turn fell to I-44 widening a few years ago.

There are few traces of the existence of the Bethel Union community. Some of the streets -- Columbia Pl., 49th St., 47th St., line up with the 1937 map -- and you may find a few homes along those streets that look to be from that era, old farmhouses that survived the subdivision of their pastures and fields. Similar road patterns can be seen around 11th and Memorial, 11th and 129th East Ave., 11th and Lynn Lane Rd., 61st and Mingo, to name a few that come to mind.

(UPDATED 2021/06/21 to fix OkGenWeb links to new okgenweb.net domain.)

There's a flat-roofed home that stands at the crest of a hill at 14th and Quaker, just east of Peoria Avenue. It's easy to spot as you pass by on the Broken Arrow Expressway heading into downtown. It sits in a narrow residential sliver between the expressway and the Cherry Street commercial district. With its strong horizontal lines, angular porch arches, and a smaller, flat-roofed second floor, it stands out from the craftsman bungalows that used to be typical of the area and the pricey modern condos that are replacing those bungalows.

Despite the similarity of the housing stock between the neighborhoods north and south of Cherry Street, the neighborhood to the north has never enjoyed historic preservation zoning protection. The distinctive home had fallen into disrepair, but I had noticed a few months ago on a walk through the neighborhood that someone was working on it.

Preservation Nation has an item today about the McGregor House, designed by Bruce Goff, and the Tulsan who undertook its restoration:

Mark Sanders had been driving by and looking at the McGregor House in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for more than 20 years. Something about the lines, he says, always appealed to him. He'd also heard rumblings that Bruce Goff -- known for being the mastermind behind some of Tulsa's most noteworthy buildings, including the Boston Avenue Methodist Church -- may have designed the home, but nobody ever had solid confirmation. So Sanders continued to drive by admiring the home's design.

But all that changed in 2013, when a For Sale By Owner sign was placed in the front yard of the home.

Sanders, who is a lawyer, decided to purchase the structure and restore it using historic tax credits.

An architect who knew Bruce Goff was able to confirm that Goff had designed it in 1919 or 1920, when he was still an intern at an architectural firm. Because of the connection to Goff, the home's local significance, and its importance to his early career, the home was accepted for the National Register of Historic Places, which in turn made it eligible for federal historic preservation tax credits, which can offset 20% of the cost of the restoration of a building's structure and mechanical systems.

It's great to know that you don't have to be a developer or an architect to restore a historic property. I'm sure it must have been a long and involved process, with setbacks and discouragements mixed in with the progress. I'd love to hear more of the story.

NOTE: The Kickstarter campaign to bring the Urban Tulsa Weekly archive back online has just three more days to run. We need $875 more in pledges to move forward. If you'd like to see this irreplaceable archive of a period of Tulsa history accessible online again, please make a pledge.

UPDATE: 2014/09/17: Raised a bunch yesterday. Now only $560 more in pledges needed to make this happen. Please make a pledge today.

UPDATE: 2014/09/19: We got close, but didn't quite make it -- $535 in pledges out of $1,000 needed. I waited too long to promote it and didn't set the pledge period long enough -- and you can't change it once the Kickstarter has been launched. We may try again, and I'm open to suggestions for how to do it better next time.

Urban Tulsa Weekly ceased publication in November 2013 after over 20 years as Tulsa's alternative newspaper. A few months later its web presence, UrbanTulsa.com, went offline, and with it went seven years of Tulsa's history. In its final incarnation, the site held the newspaper's stories from 2006 to 2013.

Urban Tulsa Weekly's writers covered indie music, art, and theater, local eateries and nightspots, sports, business, urban development, and local politics. The paper was often the first to report on new stars, new bands, and new trends. Without the stories and perspectives found in UTW, Tulsa's historical record is incomplete.

Since the website has gone offline, we've gone to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine looking for UTW stories that have become timely again, but we've found to our dismay that many of them were missed by the Internet Archive's webcrawlers. A group of former UTW writers is banding together to restore this piece of Tulsa history to the internet, and we need your help.

While I have all of the columns and stories that I submitted for publication (and retained the rights to republish them -- eventually I'll get them all online here), the same is not true of many other great writers and editors who contributed valuable insights on the state of Tulsa, Oklahoma -- its politics, sports, music, arts, and entertainment.

The good news is that, with the publisher's permission (which we have), the hosting provider can quickly put the UrbanTulsa.com archive back online and keep it online in a frozen, archive-only, ad-free state -- but there's a price. This Kickstarter will cover the initial cost of restoring the archive and keeping it online for three months.

During that initial period, we hope to get a complete scan from the Internet Archive, and we will be working on affordable ways to maintain the UrbanTulsa.com archive online in the long run. Funds above our initial goal will pay for additional months of hosting. With sufficient funding, access, and permission, we'd like to get the entire run of the paper online in some form.

Because we are not permitted to sell ads to support the site, we need your financial support to make this happen. Help restore and preserve this significant record of Tulsa's recent history with your pledge today.

This coming weekend, September 6 and 7, 2014, is the opening weekend of the Helmerich Center for American Research, a unit of the City of Tulsa's Gilcrease Museum. The new facility is adjacent to the museum on Gilcrease Museum Road.

A weekend full of free events is planned, including Native American and Latin American dancers, the Cherokee National Youth Choir, red dirt/Americana band The 66. There will be lectures on art and history, art-making, kite-flying, and map-reading activities for children. Food trucks will be on hand and the museum restaurant will be open. It would be easy to spend the entire weekend out there.

Legendary guitarist, singer, picker and grinner Roy Clark, fiddler Jana Jae, and the Tulsa Playboys will perform together on Saturday at 2:30 p.m. on the main stage. The event is free and unticketed; seating is first come, first served.

The Red Dirt Rangers will close out the weekend Sunday evening at 4 p.m.

Because of limited parking at Gilcrease, visitors are encouraged to park in designated lots downtown and take a five-minute shuttle ride to the museum.

MORE: Here's an earlier -- much earlier -- performance of Orange Blossom Special with Roy Clark and Tulsa Playboys bandleader Shelby Eicher. Eicher shows up about 7:40 into the video.

AFTER-ACTION REVIEW:

Our family was among those huddled under a tent as the cold drizzle continued into mid-afternoon. We were delighted to listen to the Cherokee National Choir sing songs like "Take the Name of Jesus with You," "Battle Hymn of the Republic," and "I'll Fly Away" in the language of Sequoyah. Around 2:05, a few minutes after the choir left the stage, the Tulsa Playboys began to set up. They were in place, but there was some inexplicable delay. A sound check began after the show was scheduled to start, and it was quickly apparent that the sound man had no earthly idea what he was doing.

Tulsans of a certain age will remember John F. Lawhon as a pioneer of the owner-as-spokesman TV ad.

John F. Lawhon died Tuesday at the age of 86. Services will be Saturday, August 16, 2014, at Schaudt-Teel Funeral Service, 5757 S. Memorial Dr., Tulsa.

Lawhon founded a chain of furniture stores, the John F. Lawhon Furniture Warehouse and Showroom, with his flagship in Tulsa on Pine Street between Sheridan and Memorial.

Lawhon's distinctive accent and cadence was a popular target for amateur impressionists, and Lawhon had enough of a sense of humor about himself to sponsor a sound-a-like contest -- a contest that then-grade-schooler and future actor/writer/director Tim Blake Nelson won.

On the Tulsa TV Memories website, John Hillis remembers Lawhon participating in KOTV News's "Chughole of the Week" feature about the disgraceful state of our city's streets: "If you're looking for the best chughole buy in Oklahoma...." Lawhon extended the theme to Detroit in this spoof ad, recalling when the Great Lakes themselves started out as chugholes:

I'm sure that many of you have noticed the many large chugholes on our streets here in the city of Detroit lately. Well, I've been given a commission by the city to dispose of these chugholes. Inasmuch as they do not intend to repair them, I've been given permission to sell them.

Most of you who are old timers can remember when some of the Great Lakes were just chugholes on our city streets, and look at what a great real estate investment that would have been. Why, the Detroit River was only about this big the first time one man I talked to saw that chughole.

These chugholes are being offered on convenient terms, and we're throwing in three Volkswagens in one of them that we found after we acquired the chughole. If you'd like a super real estate buy, call me: 296-4100 for further information on available chugholes in your area. Thank you.

After retiring from the furniture business, Lawhon became an author and speaker on the subject of sales and marketing, writing two books, Selling Retail and The Selling Bible. His focus was on selling with integrity -- not merely overcoming a customer's objections, but "supplying the knowledge and information that the prospective customer needs to make the best buying decision" who will become satisfied customers "who become more satisfied as time goes by."

In a 1995 Tulsa World story about The Selling Bible by John Stancavage, Lawhon described his post-retirement quest to understand the success of super-salesmen who could make a sale four out of five times:

Lawhon's book probably will be controversial because it explodes the image of the "big closer" salesperson who bears down hard on customers until they buy simply to escape the mounting pressure. When the author talked to real top sellers, he found a totally different approach in common with almost all of them.

The real key for these salespeople was pleasing the customer, Lawhon discovered. Instead of trying to shove a product customers didn't want down their throats, super salespeople simply asked what the customers wanted, and then steered them toward a product or service that would satisfy that desire. Frequently, the salesperson soon was writing up a ticket, before a formal "pitch" had even been made.

These very successful sellers, however, would continue their presentation after money already had changed hands. They would explain the product's features and strong points, which would make the customer feel even better about his or her purchase and look forward to ownership.

A very important thing hapened here, Lawhon found: Regular customers became satisfied customers. And you cannot overestimate the value of a satisfied customer, the author says.

"Satisfied customers are the most valuable asset a company can have -- they actually are an appreciating asset," according to Lawhon. "They will return to buy again, and will tell their friends to shop there, too."

Lawhon employee Vince Mooney remembered Lawhon's generosity and professionalism, writing this tribute on his memory page:

I always felt that John Lawhon treated me like a son when I worked at JFL Furniture. I was ex-Air Force and a philosophy major in college. John loved to talk philosophy. After he bought a rare and very expensive car he'd often come and ask me if I wanted to use it on a date. He was the most generous man I ever met in business. An executive once admired his new digital watch which was the first to come out on the market. John took it off his wrist and gave it to the man. At one time John and I were the same size so he would give me really nice sport jackets and pants that he had worn only one or twice on TV commercials. He wanted me to look good on dates.

When I got engaged, John insisted I get a big diamond ring as a sign of my sincerity. "I can get it below wholesale for you," he said. And he did. (I'm sure he subsidized the ring to some extent.) Then he let me use the New Orleans condo for our honeymoon. This was right in the middle of the French Quarter. Now I was just the company copywriter, photographer, and PR person. John didn't know me before I came to Tulsa for that job.

Later I was the FTC policeman who audited all John's TV commercials to make sure he didn't ad-lib any FTC advertising violations (like calling something a Spanish Bedroom when it was not made in Spain). I'd stop the commercial and tell him, "That has to be Spanish design bedroom." John would grump and complain and then he'd cut the commercial the right way. Every time. It was amazing. John would cut a dozen commercials without a script or even fact sheet.

He knew the furniture inside and out and he was the best person there was to do the sales pitch. John could cut commercials faster than the warehouse people could set up the next piece of furniture. John was the type of 'larger than life' individual who would easily be many people's choice as my 'most memorable character' which was once a feature in Reader's Digest. John F. Lawhon will always live larger than life in my heart. John was a good man who was an honor to know. God bless John and all his family.

Anyone else feel particularly sad that this accomplished man seems to have been overlooked in his own town these past twenty years?

RELATED:

Not only is TulsaTVMemories.com a great place to learn about Tulsa's broadcasting history from the men and women who made it, it's a great place to discover (or relive, if you lived through it the first time) Tulsa's pop culture past. The site has recently upgraded its "Group Blog," where you can ask questions and share anecdotes with Tulsa media legends.

Forty years ago today, June 8, 1974, there was a massive tornado outbreak and widespread flash flooding in northeastern Oklahoma. At least 10 tornadoes touched down (possibly more from the long-track supercell that killed 12 Drumright residents and two others). For Tulsans who were kids in the '70s, it was the first major weather disaster we had witnessed.

According to the National Weather Service, it was Tulsa's costliest weather disaster to date and has since been surpassed only by the 1984 Memorial Day Flood and the 1993 Tulsa/Catoosa tornado. Two F3 tornadoes passed through Tulsa's city limits, the second one touching down before the first one had finished with us.

Everyone had heard about an "old Indian legend" that the hills and the bend of the river protected Tulsa from tornados. But which Tulsa? The settlement around the Creek Council Oak? The Tulsa of 1918 that didn't extend south beyond 21st Street or east of Lewis? The Tulsa of 1957, when the newly completed expressway connecting the turnpikes was dubbed "Skelly Bypass"? The Tulsa of 1974 reflected the tripling in Tulsa's size that took place in 1966. All the tornado damage occurred in areas beyond Tulsa's early-day boundaries, and Brookside was the only area within the pre-1966 boundaries that was damaged.

The east Tulsa neighborhoods around 21st and Garnett that were hit were mostly very new at the time. Nearby neighborhoods were hit by another tornado on December 5, 1975. I always thought of the area as a tornado magnet.

It was a Saturday, and Mom had taken me to Oertle's (a locally owned department store 26th & Memorial) so that I could buy a gerbil. I had wanted a gerbil because I had seen one at school -- I forget whether it had belonged to the teacher or to a classmate. I named her Herbie, because a gerbil's shape reminded me of a Volkswagen Beetle. We came home with Herbie, a plastic Habitrail Deluxe Set (the big cage with the wheel and the tower), and official Habitrail food and litter. (Everything was orange or yellow. It was the '70s.) I seem to recall we were in a hurry to get home because storms had been forecast and the sky looked ominous.

There had already been tornadoes in Oklahoma City earlier in the afternoon. We would have been listening to KRMG on the AM-only radio in our Chevy Kingswood Estate station wagon as we drove home.

Some time after we got home we heard the tornado warning on the radio. Although we lived in Wagoner County, we were in the far northwest corner, in the then-unincorporated Rolling Hills subdivision, so we paid attention when Tulsa County's name was called for a storm.

In our little house at 416 S. 198th East Ave., there was no basement, so taking cover meant that Dad pulled the foam mattress out of the back of the station wagon and the four of us huddled under it in our little hallway. Someone, probably Dad, also opened the windows away from the direction of the storm, in hopes of equalizing pressure and preventing the house from exploding. (That practice is now deprecated.)

Sometime after the storm had passed, my mom's next-to-youngest sister and her husband arrived. They had been at the Camelot Hotel for an event and were stuck in traffic on I-44 for hours trying to get to our house.

Mobile phones were practically non-existent. None of the TV stations had radar. I think weather radio existed, but we didn't have one.

Those are my memories of June 8, 1974. What are yours?

MORE:

KJRH spoke to ORU Dean Clarence Boyd, Jr., who was a student on the second floor of an ORU dorm that lost its third floor to the tornado.

KOTV talked to residents of the Walnut Creek neighborhood, which was damaged by the second Tulsa tornado. One house was damaged by a piece of the ORU administration building from almost a mile away.

Tulsa World has a collection of its photos from the June 8, 1974, tornado aftermath.

TulsaTVMemories.com has a photo of the tornado damage in Brookside north of the KTEW/KVOO studios and the recollections of Michael Evans, who rode out the storm in Tulsa's first and at the time only Arby's at 42nd and Peoria.

I locked the south door and noticed I could no longer see across the street. I turned to lock the north door and out of the corner of my eye saw both picnic tables were airborne. My reaction was to flinch because milliseconds later they pushed through the glass front. I have no idea what happened after that because for about 20 minutes I was unconscious.

Stacy Richardson was on the air on KAKC, in the Trade Winds West at 51st and Peoria, the night of the tornadoes, at least until the power went out for every AM station except one. Sonny Hollingshead remembers tornado damage to Bell's at the Fairgrounds. David Bagsby remembers going to 31st and Mingo to try to rescue a friend stuck in a flash flood. Tulsa also received five inches of rain that night. More Tulsa tornado memories. More Tulsa tornado memories. Even more Tulsa tornado memories. Still more Tulsa tornado memories.

The Tornado Project has a list of all tornadoes touching down in Oklahoma between 1950 and 2012.

For the first time in a long time, I have an article in print. The May 15, 2014, edition of This Land Press includes my history of the lost neighborhood just north of downtown Tulsa. Criss-crossed by streets but now devoid of buildings, this neighborhood was established about 100 years ago, was a thriving neighborhood as recently as 50 years ago, and still had residents 10 years ago. What happened? Pick up a copy of This Land Press at your friendly neighborhood coffeehouse, bookstore, or restaurant to read the story. (UPDATE: "Steps to Nowhere" is now online.)

I wrote far more than there was room to publish. In particular, I wish there had been more room for the personal recollections that were entrusted to me. I had to whittle them down considerably to have room to get the basic framework across. If there's an enthusiastic response to this story, I hope to have the opportunity to include some of those anecdotes in future stories. Since the story was submitted, I met several more former residents with interesting stories to tell; perhaps more photos and anecdotes will surface now that the story is in print.

MORE:

I've posted an album of photographs, some taken by me earlier this year, some I took from 2007 (before OSU resculpted Standpipe Hill and planted a tower on top, and photos and images from neighborhood residents Martin Reidy, Bill Leighty, and other sources: Tulsa's Lost Near Northside. Included is this annotated 1967 aerial photo of Tulsa's Near Northside neighborhood.

Bill Leighty, one of the former residents I interviewed for the story, has posted his detailed reminiscences of his Near Northside childhood on his Smart Growth Tulsa blog.

I found some additional info about the Boston Beer Garden, a neighborhood fixture for 46 years, destroyed by fire in 1983.

The East Village District Association, on the eastern edge of downtown Tulsa, is holding its second Second Saturday street festival this Saturday, May 10, 2014, from 11 am to 4 pm, at the corner of 3rd and Lansing. The event will feature local music, art, vendors, and food trucks.

The East Village is bounded by Elgin Ave. and the east leg of the Inner Dispersal Loop, between 3rd Street and 11th Street, plus the area between the Frisco tracks and 3rd Street east of Greenwood Ave. Until work on the IDL began in 1967, the area had been seamlessly connected to the Pearl District, but somewhat separated from downtown by the Midland Valley tracks.

The heart of the district is a cluster of one- and two-story buildings near the intersection of 3rd and Kenosha. Kenosha is the eastern boundary of Tulsa's original townsite, in which the streets were laid out parallel and perpendicular to the Frisco railroad tracks. East of Kenosha is the Hodge Addition, aligned with the compass. The terminating vistas created by this collision of conflicting grids inspired then-resident Dave Berray to propose the name Hodge's Bend for the neighborhood association he helped to organize. If I recall correctly, Berray was anxious to distinguish the cluster of older buildings that were already being reused and already becoming a neighborhood from whatever massive redevelopment might take place on the former industrial lands to the south.

The potential of the East Village for urban revival was recognized as early as December of 1990, when Spaghetti Warehouse announced plans to locate in the old Crane Warehouse at 623 E. 3rd Street, about a year after the chain had opened in Oklahoma City's Bricktown. The following August, the building was gutted by arson, just as renovations were set to begin, and that December, Spaghetti Warehouse bought a building in the Brady Village area, triggering renewed interest in the warehouse district north of the Frisco tracks, but leaving the East Village to its own devices.

The East Village's comeback gained momentum in the late '90s, as artists (specifically theatrical scenery artists) discovered this area within the IDL that had been overlooked by urban renewal and was too far from the downtown office cluster to be worth clearing for parking. City leaders planned to demolish the neighborhood to make way for a soccer stadium, but the defeat of the Tulsa Project city sales tax in 1997 saved the East Village from oblivion. Living Arts moved to a temporary location on Kenosha in 2000 and stayed there for nine years.

Since that time, buildings have been renovated for residential, commercial, and office use, mainly along 3rd, Kenosha, and Lansing. There have been several proposals for major development in the large tracts of land between 4th and 7th streets, former sites of Nordam, Bill White Chevrolet, Fire Station No.1, and the Tulsa Coliseum, but none have come to fruition. As always, the momentum for redevelopment has been in reusing old buildings that are still standing; new construction is still somewhere off in the future.

In 2011, All Souls Unitarian Church, the largest U-U congregation in the US, announced plans to locate on the former site of the Page-Glencliff Dairy and later Fields Downs Randolph, between 6th and 7th, Frankfort and Kenosha.

The East Village District Association plans to hold a street festival the second Saturday of every month.

MORE:

I wrote about 3rd and Kenosha in Urban Tulsa in October in 2005, and again here on BatesLine in 2006, about the 1997 letter from Allison Geary that alerted me to the neighborhood's plight.

Mike Easterling wrote a cover story about the East Village in the March 25, 2009, issue of Urban Tulsa Weekly.

Emerson Elementary School, north of downtown Tulsa at 909 N. Boston Ave, will celebrate its centennial this Friday night, May 2, 2014, from 6 to 8 pm. Dinner will be provided by Elote and music by Muskogee's Wild Card Band. There will be a silent auction to benefit the school's Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) initiative. Tickets are $10 for adults, $5 for children 11-17. Visit Emerson's "purchases and donations" page to buy tickets and centennial T-shirts.

In researching a story about the neighborhood south of Emerson, I've enjoyed talking to a number of alumni who attended the school in the '40s and '50s and getting to know the school's long and fascinating history.

Emerson School dates its birth from its authorization in Tulsa's 1913 school bond issue. A April 14, 1915, story, headlined "BUILD NEW SCHOOL ON THE NORTH SIDE: Buy Block In Kirkpatrick Heights for a Unit Building," reported:

Amicably settling the slight dissention [sic] which recently arose between the North Side Improvement association and the city school board, it was decided at the meeting of the school board last night to purchase a block of ground in the Kirkpatrick Heights addition for a new school site and build an entirely new unit school at that place. In view of the unsafe condition of the Sequoyah school, for a large number of children, it was decided to diminish the attendance there as well as repair the building and render it safe as far as possible.

It is thought probable that the Osage school, which is a grade school, would never likely grow very much, shall be made the location for the manual training and domestic science departments for the more advanced students of the north side. This will prevent their having to go as far south as the central high school or as far east as Washington school to take that course of study. Members of the North Side Improvement association present expressed themselves before the board and privately as being entirely satisfied with the arrangement.

(On the same page, a box score and news story announced that the Tulsa World-Democrat newsboys baseball team, the Newsies, had defeated Bellview (Lincoln) elementary school 7-6 and Horace Mann elementary 10-2 in a Sunday afternoon double header. For more information about the concerns of this period for school building soundness and safety, see "'JITNEY' SCHOOLS ARE 'ALL BLOWED UP'" in the September 8, 1915, Tulsa World.)

A month later, on May 19, 1915, the school board approved, with one member dissenting, the purchase of a block in Kirkpatrick Heights and rejecting the Mary Davis site. (That may be a reference to the Davis-Wilson Heights Addition, on the east side of Cincinnati at the top of Sunset Hill. The same page discusses work on the Detention Home and has an ad from the Tulsa Theatre Managers Association about a wildcat strike by union musicians, stagehands and operators.)

A Sunday, September 19, 1915, news story about the reopening of the school year the following day announces that enrollment for the new school in Kirkpatrick Heights would be held at Osage (Fairview west of Denver) and Sequoyah Schools (Boston and Easton) "A separation of the district will be made, as soon as the building is completed." A January 4, 1916, story reports that Emerson school "will be occupied tomorrow," with only one further school from the last bond issue to be completed (Riverview).

NOTE: It appears that the Oklahoma Historical Society had the photo backwards. Based on aerial photos, the auditorium was on King Street, second building east of Boston. When reversed, the photo matches the slope of the land.

Emerson has had two incarnations. Its first was as a campus on the east side of Boston between King and Latimer Streets, occupying about half a block and built according to the "unit plan" devised by school board member H. O. McClure, namesake of a Tulsa park and school. Each unit consisted of two classrooms with its own restrooms and cloakrooms. As enrollment grew, additional units would be built, gradually enclosing an inner courtyard. One two-story building housed the auditorium and school offices. The plan was innovative and received national attention. While many unit plan schools, including Emerson, have been demolished, a few remain, and most have been put to other purposes: Lee School at 21st and Cincinnati, Irving School at 1st and Nogales, Pershing School in Owen Park neighborhood, and Lincoln School at 15th and Peoria. In some cases, like Lincoln and Irving, units were constructed around multistory school buildings.

The courtyard wasn't big enough for baseball; little league games were played several blocks north at Cheyenne Playground.

Prior to school desegregation, Emerson was a school for whites only. After Brown v. Board of Education, starting in 1955, a few African-American children enrolled in the school. Bill Leighty, who was an Emerson student at the time, remembers that the change was uneventful and the new students were welcomed. Over the next 20 years, changing school boundaries and changing residential patterns (influenced in part by the urban renewal demolition of Greenwood and the displacement of its residents) resulted in Emerson becoming a majority African-American school; 87.4% in the 1975-1976 school year.

The second, modern incarnation of Emerson began in 1975, as part of a plan to desegregate schools without forced busing. Tulsa proposed, and the Federal judge accepted, a plan to build a new Emerson School as a magnet, to complement new magnet schools at Carver Middle School and Washington High School. Charles Johnson Elementary, located in the old Washington building in the Greenwood district, and which had been one of the segregated "separate" schools for African-Americans, would be closed and merged into Emerson. Longfellow, at 6th and Peoria, had been closed and merged into Johnson for the 1972-1973, to try to create a balanced student body.

Building this superschool involved the creation of a superblock, demolishing the original buildings and the houses on the rest of its block, the block to the south, and two blocks to the west. Forty-six single-family homes, three duplexes, seven apartment buildings, and a small retail building at 14 E. Latimer (home in in 1957 to Tulsa Nozzle and Valve, in 1967 to the Edge of Night beer joint) were removed. King Street was closed between Cincinnati Ave (now MLKJr Blvd) and Main, and Boston Ave was closed between Jasper Street and Latimer Street.

The new Emerson, which opened its doors in 1976, had a brand new, modern building, innovative curriculum offerings, and highly-credentialed teachers. From a 1977 report to the U. S. Commission on Civil Rights about the desegregation of Tulsa schools:

On April 24, 1975, District Judge Frederick Daugherty issued an order with regard to Emerson Elementary School. The order approved the school districts request to build a new elementary school based on an expansion of the existing Emerson campus. Student assignment changes were made by consolidating the enrollments of Emerson and Johnson Elementary Schools. The court stipulated that the new Emerson must maintain a black enrollment of not more than 50 percent. The school district, expanding on its previous successes at Burroughs Little School, Carver Middle School, and Washington High School, sought voluntary white student enrollment. The court had made it quite clear that, if the voluntary approach did not work, the district would have to take other action to maintain the prescribed racial enrollment in the new school.

The new Emerson Elementary, which opened in September 1976, formed the final link in a complete K-12 alternative school program where students can experience individualized, continuous-progress learning in a racially desegregated environment. The total enrollment of 700, with a 50-50 black-white ratio, consists of approximately 500 neighborhood children and an additional 200 white student volunteers. Children in grades K-3 are located in a special area with ready access to other activity areas. The curriculum emphasizes communication skills and mathematics taught by a team of teachers. Enrichment experiences include music, drama, and creative arts at this level.
Children in grades three through six have three time blocks of 110 minutes each allotted to communication skills, math-science, physical education, and humanities. Additional instruction in music is available on the violin, guitar, and piano beginning at the third-grade level.

Although the main emphasis is on basic skills geared for individualized instruction, the curriculum stresses a humanities program. Children at Emerson have access to a piano laboratory, a potter's wheel, instruction in dance and drama, and a miniature television studio where they can produce their own shows. The curriculum features a creative learning center where children may engage in enrichment experiences in the arts, crafts, plant growing, and creative writing. This component of the curriculum is closely articulated with the exploratory curriculum at Carver Middle School so that Emerson students can continue their entire public school education through similar programs at Carver Middle School and Washington High School.

Today, Emerson is the neighborhood school for a three-square mile area that includes all of downtown within the Inner Dispersal Loop plus an area bounded by the L. L. Tisdale Expressway, Peoria Avenue, Pine Street and 11th Street. It feeds into Central Junior and Senior high schools. At the start of this academic year, Emerson had 311 students and 23 teachers. 95% of students qualify for free or reduced lunch. 70% of the students are African-American. Student attendance rate last year was 94%.

From p. 3 of the August 23, 1922, edition of the Tulsa Daily World:

A building permit was issued Tuesday to the Jewish Institute, which is to be located at 629 N. Main street. The plans call for a one-story building and basement, with a large assembly hall. The cost is estimated at $20,000.

From p. 3 of the August 27, 1922, edition of the Tulsa Daily World:

The cornerstone of the Jewish Institute of Tulsa will be laid on Tuesday evening, August 28, at 8 o'clock at 627 North Main. This institution, when completed, will be equipped with a spacious hall for dances and mass meetings, club rooms, reading rooms, library, chess room and various facilities for games, a kitchen for the catering for Jewish social affairs, and other attractions that will make the Jewish Institute a center of Jewish social life.

Here's a description of the institute's location and purpose from the article about Tulsa by the Institute of Southern Jewish Life:

Members of B'nai Emunah built a Jewish Institute, designed to be a community center, in 1922. Reflecting the scattered nature of the Orthodox synagogue's membership, the Jewish Institute was 1.5 miles away from B'nai Emunah. Nevertheless, the Orthodox synagogue's Talmud Torah school started meeting at the Institute, a vast improvement over the shul's basement, where they had been meeting. The B'nai Emunah sisterhood, which had been founded in 1921, held their meetings and functions at the Institute. The heyday of the Jewish Institute was short-lived, as financial troubles forced it to close in 1930. The building was still used by Jewish groups occasionally. Later in the 1930s, member of B'nai Emunah who lived on the northside met there for high holiday services since they lived too far from the synagogue to walk there. Abe Borofsky and Harold Smith were the lay leaders for the northside group.

I believe this is a photo of the Jewish Institute. The synagogues in Tulsa at the time were B'nai Emunah, a two-story building at 10th and Cheyenne, and Temple Israel, at 14th and Cheyenne. Both two-story buildings were topped by domes. This building better fits the newspaper's description of the Jewish Institute.

The Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.

The Tulsa Daily World and the Tulsa Democrat both ran front page stories about Congress authorizing President Wilson to use the Armed Forces to intervene in Mexico.

The World's front page was almost entirely devoted to the impending Mexico invasion. Above the masthead, a red banner headline read "LAND MARINES 48 HOURS." The lead story announced "WILL SEIZE CUSTOM HOUSES AT TAMPICO AND VERA CRUZ WED." The only interruption was a "WARNING!" in the bottom center of the front page that the rival Democrat was producing a cheap imitation of the World's pink-paper special 6 p.m. sports edition with all the baseball scores.

The Whirled had the local angle, with a story about men across the state wiring and telephoning the Oklahoma National Guard's adjutant general to volunteer to fight in Mexico, and one special volunteer who offered to organize a special unit for any expedition:

Tulsa came to the front in the Mexican crisis last night when "Geenral" [sic] Tate Brady wired Senator [Thomas] Gore, asking for authority to raise a regiment of Indian cavalry volunteers to serve should war break out with Mexico. His telegram follows:

"Senator Thomas P. Gore, Washington:

"The first man to lay down his life on Cuban soil for flag and country was Milo Hendrix, an Indian boy. In the great war between the states, the Indian people sent their full quota to both northern and southern armies. No soldiers were braver. They are specially qualified for duty in the mountains of Mexico. Proud of being a Cherokee citizen, I ask the president through you, if volunteers are called for, for the privilege of organizing a regiment of Indian cavalry for duty at the front.

(Signed) "TATE BRADY"

(The Democrat had Brady's letter on p. 10, the back page of this addition.)

Page 2 of the World announced movies every evening in the 1,200 capacity "airdome" at the Sand Springs Park. On page 4, we learn that the Tulsa baseball club in the Western Association is looking for a new name and will pay $10 in "real money" to the person who makes the winning suggestion. "'Oilers' is too common, as several teams in past years have had that moniker." Page 4 also has another tribute to Tate Brady, this time for his business acumen in moving his dry goods store from the a leased space on the south side to his Brady Hotel just north of the Frisco tracks. "Last year he retailed nearly ninety-one thousand dollars for cash and this year so far has been 44 per cent over last."

On the same page, The New Fashion Store at 112 E. 2nd Street cashes in on war fever with a quarter-page ad headlined:

(They bought a full-page ad in the Democrat, p. 8, with the same headline.)

According to a Santa Fe ad on p. 7, you can take Train 202 out of Tulsa at 8 a.m., arrive in Kansas City at 5:15 p.m., take in dinner and a show, then catch the Oil Flyer at 2:30 a.m. (but sleepers are available at 11:30 p.m.), arriving back in Tulsa at 11:30 a.m. A caricature of the dapper "University Four" announces their upcoming show, "A Bit of Harmony" at the Lyric Theater.

The Democrat devoted only three of its seven front-page columns to the Mexico story. The big local story was preparations to send a delegation of Tulsans to the United Confederate Veterans convention in Jacksonville, Fla., to try to land the 1915 convention for Tulsa. A delegation of 200 men would take a special train to Jacksonville, over the southern route through Dallas, Houston, New Orleans, and Montgomery. In the two weeks before the UCV convention, 5,000 booklets about Tulsa, featuring a photo of the new convention hall, would be distributed in "the larger cities of the south."

A big chunk of the Democrat's front page is devoted to a sort of Socratic dialogue (headlined "Cloistered Conversations") between a Mr. Hymn and a Mr. Rockefeller concerning the latter's monopolistic oil pricing practices and the possibility of a shutdown of Oklahoma drilling in response to a decline in the price of oil. Page 2 has more on that topic, and a story about Oklahoma's desire to purchase unplatted islands and lands in the bed of the Arkansas River from the Department of the Interior. The question hinges in part on the navigability of the river. Another lengthy feature about Standard Oil's methods is on p. 4.

Page 3 of the Democrat has a big display ad decrying the folly of paying $30 a month or more in rent when you could instead by a new home in Crosbie Heights Addition, served by two streetcar lines, a mere 10 blocks from "down town," where "the scenery is splendid, the air is pure and free from the dirt and grime of the congested district of down town. In such location the children and wife will find health and happiness during the hot summer months. The altitude is such that you will find it coll during the hot nights of the coming summer."

Speaking of streetcars, the same page announces that the Tulsa Street Railway will install a new switch on North Cheyenne Avenue, enabling more cars and more frequent service -- every seven minutes -- and the possibility of an extension of the North Main Street line. Meanwhile, the new line to the Bellview addition (3rd to Madison to Fostoria to Quincy, ending just south of 15th Street) would run on a 12-minute headway with the Owen Park line. The headways had been 18 minutes before recent improvements.

Also reported on page 3 of the Democrat, the Lutherans, led by the Rev. C. W. Sifferd, broke ground on April 21, 1914, for a new building on the southeast corner of 5th and Elwood, designed by George Winkler. The church had a membership of 140, but were building the new church to hold 750, with a full basement for Sunday school classrooms. (The building stood until demolished to make way for the Tulsa County Courthouse. First Lutheran Church relocated to 13th and Utica.)

Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Accession A2289

As yet undeveloped, land near Boston Ave. and Haskell St. was the temporary home of lions, tigers, apes, and monkeys -- the Con T. Kennedy Shows and Hackman Animal Circus had come to town. (These days, the land is again re-undeveloped and could once again play host to a circus tent and midway.)

Page 6 of the Democrat reported the Western Association's 140 game schedule. Tulsa would open at home on May 1, starting a three-game series with the recently reinstated Muskogee club. Elsewhere on the page, the Tulsa school board was mulling plans to condemn a block of land to expand Riverview School. The board was ready to advertise plans to construct the new $300,000 High School, so that construction could start as soon as the state Attorney General approved the $500,000 bond issue. It hadn't been decided whether to build on the same block as the current school or a different one.

The 1914 City of Tulsa election, to be held the following day, would be a snoozer and warranted a mention only on the bottom right corner of page 7. The Democratic slate of city commission candidates were all unopposed, but the election had to be held in order to comply with the city charter.

A legal notice on p. 9 announced the sealed-bid auction of the Kaffir Corn Palace, on the grounds of the County Farm, on N. Lewis between Archer and the Frisco tracks. The building, celebrating what we call sorghum, was the centerpiece of the 1913 International Dry Farming Congress.

And finally, the classified ads on the back page of the World include a black manorca cockerel for sale at 901 No. Cheyenne (eggs, too), rooms for rent (inquire at the Coney Island Café), and this touching personal:

NOTICE--Would like to correspond with some lady that wants a home and is willing to help make one. I am 48 years old, light complexioned and blue eyes, don't swear nor drink, but still I am not perfect. Address William Colson, Columbus, Kansas.

On this day 100 years ago, Tulsa's "new" Majestic Theater opened its doors to the public. The grand opening was announced with an ad and story on page 5 of the previous day's Tulsa Daily World:

WELCOME
Majestic Theatre
OPENS TOMORROW---SATURDAY---APRIL 18

SHOWING DAILY.

HIGH CLASS MOTION PICTURES.

Music by the

MARVELOUS UNIT ORCHESTRA.
"The Instrument with a Human Voice."

Don't miss this show. A good place to take the family.

Open at 1:30 p.m., showing continuously until 11 p.m.

Admission.
Adults 10 cents, Children 5 cents.

Opening Program

Vitagraph's Big Circus Drama in Two Parts
"THE FRUITS OF VENGEANCE."
A thrilling drama of life in the Big White Tents.

Fine Lubin Production
"THE LITTLE HERO."
Let the Kiddies see this.

Essanay Laugh Producer
"THREE BABES IN A FLAT."
A clever comedy satire.

Coming Soon
TULLY MARSHALL and the original New York cast, presenting
"PAID IN FULL."

The accompanying news item:

Messrs. McCarty & Rothstein take great pleasure in announcing the opening tomorrow, Saturday afternoon and evening, of the New Majestic theater. During the past month the theatre has been in the hands of carpenters, painters, decorators, etc., and has been completely altered and improved, now presenting a most attractive appearance, one that will meet with the approval of all patrons. The house will be under the personal management of B. F. Rothstein, lately associated with Harry Davis, the well-known theatrical and motion picture magnate. It will be devoted exclusively to high class motion pictures and feature films in which appear the leading actors and actresses of the world, depicting the great theatrical successes. At an approximate expense of $10,000 the management has installed on of the famous Wurlitzer Unit orchestras, which combines piano with all orchestral acompaniements, such as horns, flute, violin, drums, cello, castanets, tambourine, whistles, bells, chimes, xylophones and traps. The management, at considerable additional expense secured a well-known artist of Dallas, Texas, to preside over this wonderful instrument. Recitals will be given afternoon and evening, thus affording the music-loving public a rare treat. It is the only instrument of its kind in the entire state of Oklahoma and weighs in the neighborhood of 6,000 pounds.

Reading through the puffery, it appears that this is a reopening after a remodel, rather than the opening of a new building.

What isn't clear is where this was. In 1910, the Bijou Theater sat at the corner of 4th and Main. In 1917 (according to Sanborn Maps), the new, new Majestic was built next door at 406 S. Main, and remained standing until demolished for the present occupant, a parking garage that takes up the north two-thirds of the block between Main, Boulder, 4th and 5th. Tulsa was small enough, and the business district was compact enough, that there was no need to clutter up a theater ad with an address.

First in a possible series. Newspapers and other publications from 1922 and earlier are in the public domain, and many of them are available online through the Library of Congress and Oklahoma Historical Society websites.

The April 17, 1914 edition of the Tulsa Daily World ran 12 pages. The front page headline was about the peaceful resolution of the Tampico Affair. Mexican President General Huerta offered to make amends for the arrest of American troops at Tampico. (The previous day's edition had a banner headline in red ink above the masthead announcing "War With Mexico Now Imminent / Bloodshed Likely at Track Today.")

Further down page 1, there was news of an arrest in the hatchet murder of Muskogee shopkeeper B. F. Richardson. The accused was Richardson's shop clerk, C. T. Hefler, who had been fired after an argument.

On the upper left of the women's page (p. 7) is the headline:

The story was about a committee of Tulsa women pushing for the establishment of a "baby detention camp." No indication of where it would be located. The committee elected the following ladies as the board of directors.

Mesdames J. A. Hull, J. M. Gillette, S. E. Dunn, John Murray Ward, Frank Sowers, Edward R. Perry, Oscar R. Howard, Sim W. Parrish, J. E. Crosbie, Frank E. Shallenberger, O. L. Frost and Frank H. Greer.

A June 19, 1914, story reports that a home was purchased "opposite Orcutt park," accessible by the Oklahoma Union Traction streetcar line. The 1920 city directory shows the Tulsa Detention Home located at 1704 S. Trenton. Later, the 1939 Sanborn map shows a "County Children's Home" at 1710 S. Trenton at the corner with 17th Street. The homes currently on that corner are of much later construction.

An August 1, 1915, story distinguishes the new detention home ("near the old bungalow at Seventeenth and Spark Streets"), which seems to be an orphanage for children whose parents are deceased or unfit, from the baby camp. Both are run by the local Humane Society.

(In 1921, Wichita established a "Fresh Air Baby Camp" in its Riverside neighborhood. The building was later used as a Girl Scout hut, then sat empty for many years. At present, the building is being restored to its historical appearance. Fresh Air Baby Camp has a much nicer sound than Baby Detention Camp.)

IN OTHER NEWS:

The April 16 edition noted the paper's circulation on the previous day at 12,650.

Several ads in the paper boost the Tulsa Evening Sun, sister paper to the World, which began publication on December 1, 1913, and had a daily circulation of 4,000. "It has been proven that a morning paper with an evening edition is the solution of taking care of the 'overhead cost' in newspaper publishing."

Dr. Jeffrey Myers, a great-grandson of W. Tate Brady, posted a comment today on a BatesLine entry from July 2013 ("The Brady name game") regarding the renaming of Brady Street in Tulsa. Controversy over the early Tulsa civic leader's connection to racist organizations resulted in a bizarre City Council compromise that renamed Brady Street within the Inner Dispersal Loop to Matthew B. Brady Street, honoring the Civil War-era photographer who had no connection to Tulsa.

Below is Dr. Myers's comment, which is unedited, except for the addition of an authorship line to ensure it is properly attributed.

What´s in a Name: The Legacy of Tate Brady [by Dr. Jeffrey Myers]

As one of the great-grandchildren of W. Tate Brady, I was deeply saddened to learn of his affiliation - direct or indirect - with racist organizations. Although he died long before I was born, we great-grandchildren often heard of his deep affection for "Tulsey Town" and his coining of the term "Tulsa Spirit".

Personally, I have never thought of "Brady" Street simply as a personal tribute to one of Tulsa´s founders, but rather a reminder of one of the most eventful and "spirited" chapters in the history of the city - with all of its triumphs and tragedies, virtues and vices, successes and failures. To preserve a name - including both the achievements and the shortcomings it represents - serves to convey historical identity.

In some ways, Tate Brady can be said to have been a child of his times. He was a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans in a young city painfully divided along racial lines. He was a man filled with larger-than-life dreams, as well as inconsistencies. Having joined the Ku Klux Klan as a young man, he later renounced the group, going on to support an anti-Klan gubernatorial candidate for election.

If I am not mistaken, though, he is being judged for one substantiated act of cruelty which, despicable as it is, remains one single act. I am not aware of any evidence of his complicity in other crimes, nor is there convincing evidence linking him to an active role in the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921. Fortunately, times have changed; needless to say, actions must always be understood and judged in the context of those times. Historical revisionism is sometimes tempting, but often self-serving.

It has been said that Wyatt Tate Brady was known for hiring African Americans to work in his hotel and other businesses. Not long before she died at the age of 104, Mabel B. Little, a survivor of the Tulsa Race Riot who was once employed by Brady, recalls in her book, Fire on Mount Zion: My Life and History as a Black Woman in America (1990): "Another man, Mr. Tate Brady had good feelings for black people. He hired several black boys as porters. But he told them up front, "Listen, boys: I'm gonna train you so you can get your own businesses someday."

I´ve always liked the fact that this historical street north of Main only bore a surname - and not a first name, thus pointing beyond itself, not only to the larger Brady family - many of whom loved and gave generously of themselves and their gifts to Tulsa, but also to the wider family, named and unnamed, of pioneer-spirited Tulsans. The name Brady invokes that which is unique to Tulsa - not only at its best, but also that which needs to be transformed and redeemed, individually and together.

In a moment of larger vision, W. Tate Brady was once quoted as saying: "Indian and white man, Jew and Gentile, Catholic and Protestant, we worked together side by side, and shoulder to shoulder, and under these conditions, the 'Tulsa Spirit' was born, and has lived, and God grant that it never dies." Though framed in words from another era, this vision would seem to capture the magnanimous, unifying "spirit" of Tulsa - the direction surely intended by the street sign bearing the name "Brady".

I've been told that Leon Russell's voice is being used to greet travelers at the Tulsa International Airport, and that, in his greeting, he mentions seeing world-renowned violinist Jascha Heifetz at the Tulsa Municipal Theater, now known as the Brady Theater.

Heifetz appeared in Tulsa, at what was then known as the Convention Hall, many years earlier, on March 16, 1922, as part of a blockbuster concert series that included ballerina Anna Pavlova and pianist and composer Sergei Rachmaninoff.

The performers for the rest of the series are not well-remembered today, but they were famous at the time: Frances Alda (operatic soprano), Royal Dadmun (baritone), John McCormack (Irish tenor), Flonzaley Quartet (string quartet).

At the time, $10 got you season tickets for the best seat in the house. In inflation-adjusted terms, that's $15 per show. Individual tickets ran from $1 to $3, plus 10% war tax.

A newspaper advertisement for the series appeared on page 12 of the September 25, 1921, edition of the Tulsa Daily World:

Don't know for sure, but I suspect that the Carson Concert Series was the forerunner for Carson Attractions, which handled tickets and booking for the Tulsa Assembly Center for many years.

1922 was not Heifetz's first visit to Tulsa. He also appeared at the Convention Hall on March 4, 1919. Ticket prices were 50 cents cheaper than they would be in 1922.

A remarkable and detailed 1921 map of Tulsa is available for viewing online, from the Special Collections of the University of Tulsa McFarlin Library. The inset map shows the entire city, and is captioned;

TULSA
AND ADDITIONS
A Ready Reference and Guide Map to Tulsa's
OFFICE & PUBLIC BLDGS. CLUBS, R.R. PASSENGER &
FREIGHT DEPOTS, SCHOOLS, CHURCHES, PARKS &
CEMETERIES, PAVED & UNPAVED STREETS & NAMES,
STEAM, INTERURBAN & STREET RAILROADS,
FIRE PLUGS, CITY & FIRE LIMITS

Subdivisions are clearly labeled. Around the edges of the map are alphabetical listings of the categories mentioned above, plus banks, streets, hospitals, apartment buildings, and hotels. The street car and interurban lines are very easy to spot.

The outer part of the map depicts "Tulsa's industrial and commercial district : showing office and public bldgs. R.R. passenger & freight depots." It is more detailed, labeling individual buildings, and it covers a solid rectangle from Denver to Hartford, Easton to 5th St., plus extensions in to the west (to Frisco between Easton & 2nd), to the east (to 3rd & Madison and Admiral & Owasso), and to the south (to 12th and Main). Beyond these areas are residences and farmland.

Two publishers are listed on the map, the Dean-Brumfield Co. of Tulsa and the Standard Map Co. of Chicago.

Also in the collection is the Fowler & Kelly Aero View of Tulsa, 1918 (UPDATE: The Library of Congress has a clearer, higher-resolution digital copy of Aero View of Tulsa, 1918.)

The only disappointment about these two maps is that they appear to have been converted to JPEG format, which is great for photos of real life, but produces annoying blurs and other artifacts as a result of its lossy compression algorithm. PNG, a lossless compressed format, would have been a better choice.

UPDATE: Paul Uttinger provides a link to a better copy of the Aero View of Tulsa, 1918.

UPDATE 2021/05/26: Replacing dead links. The University of Tulsa has moved to a new digital archive system. For the record, here are the dead links to old locations of the 1921 map and the Aero View of Tulsa, 1918 on oclc.org.

I. Marc Carlson, Librarian of Special Collections at the University of Tulsa, has several personal webpages containing his research on the Tulsa Race Riot and other historical topics. I just found out about this material earlier this evening and wanted to preserve the links for future exploration:

Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 by I. Marc Carlson: WordPress site, principal location for collected documents and analysis.
Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 original website: Hand-coded website that still has some important material.
Public-domain photos of the Tulsa Race Riot, with descriptions and commentary

Carlson takes a "just the facts" approach to the material, placing the greatest weight on first-hand accounts recorded close to the time of the events and documents of the time, separating evidence from widely-circulated legends. You can read his statement of methodology here. Among his projects are a timeline of the Tulsa Race Riot and a list of the Tulsa Race Riot known dead and wounded, with the source of the information and, if known, the address for the victim as found in contemporary directories.

On Wednesday night, my wife and I went to Circle Cinema to see a double-feature: Locaciones: Buscando a Rusty James (Locations: Looking for Rusty James") followed by Rumble Fish, the 1983 Francis Ford Coppola film based on the novel by S. E. Hinton.

The first film at the Circle Cinema was about the second: Chilean author Alberto Fuguet saw Rumble Fish as a young man and was inspired by the idea that the ordinary stuff of life could be the source of art.

It is the film that incited me to write. The one that said: "You too can do it. If this story of two brothers can be art, then perhaps your world, your raw material, your square meter, can be of some use to you. Perhaps it can be representable."...

I left on foot. I lived close by. I arrived at my house that creaked. I remember that that night, in a short time, by hand, without a computer, I wrote my first story. Perhaps I should dedicate it to Dillon. To Spano. Perhaps I should have dedicated it to Coppola.

Some day, I don't know when, I should make a pilgrimage to Tulsa, I told myself.

A flop when released in the US as an ordinary summer movie, Rumble Fish became a long-running cult classic on the art-house circuit in Latin America, particularly in the Southern Cone of Chile, Argentina, and Uruguay. The film was retitled La Ley de la Calle ("The Law of the Street") and presented in English with Spanish subtitles.

Asked to write an essay about a favorite film, Fuguet decided instead to create a documentary tribute. In Miami for an event, he bought a ticket to Tulsa hoping to find locations and to interview extras and local fans who would talk about what Rumble Fish meant to them. Instead, puzzled that the film seemed to mean so little to the people of the city where it was made, he went around on his own, filming locations. Instead of talking to locals, he went back to South America and interviewed authors and filmmakers who were inspired by the film. It was only later that he connected with Tulsans (in particular, Lee Roy Chapman) interested in the film who helped him gather additional footage for his documentary. Fuguet told his tale in This Land Press:

Things didn't turn out as I thought. My goal was to go to Tulsa, stay as long as necessary, talk with everyone, spend time with the extras, and succumb to a world I would have liked to be a part of. But Tulsa turned out to be not just a colorful city, where yes, the clouds pass but not too quickly. I was struck by something that left me lying flat on a bed in a Ramada Inn. Nobody talked to me. Not because they were fleeing from me or they rejected me. It's that Rumble Fish, the film anyway, was not a topic of conversation for them. It hadn't made an impact on the city. It was filmed there but in an informal way, not in the way its big sister, the immense and technicolored The Outsiders, was shot. It was very difficult for me to make a map of locations. There were no fans, no groupies, no cinephiles. I returned to Santiago with a lot of footage and an immense depression. I didn't have a documentary.

Fuguet's homage, Locaciones, is a collection of recent footage of Tulsa interspersed with clips from Rumble Fish shown on various screens, accompanied by the voices of the movie's admirers talking about when and where they first saw it and how it inspired them. It is in Spanish with English subtitles.

(Confession: I've never read the novel Rumble Fish and, until Wednesday night, had never seen the film.)

To Fuguet and his fellow fans, the Tulsa depicted in Rumble Fish is a "holy city." But the film shows a forgotten Tulsa that would have been very foreign to Tulsans who shopped at Woodland Hills Mall and never ventured north of 41st or west of Yale: Under the Boulder Ave. railroad bridge, a store front at 13 E. Brady Street, in the alley south of 5th Street between Main and Boston, the Sixth Street Subway, the 1400 block of S. Cincinnati, the 1000 block of N. Greenwood, 16th Street next to Marquette School, 3rd and Kenosha, the 23rd Street bridge. This was the Tulsa that Tulsa's leaders of the time were diligently working to update or eliminate -- dilapidated, obsolete, old-fashioned. Where they had already succeeded, when Tulsa couldn't provide the requisite flophouse apartment, mom-and-pop drugstore, and dive beer joint, Coppola took his crew to Sapulpa's better-preserved downtown to make up the deficiency.

The most spectacular scene in the film (from a Tulsa history perspective) is on Greenwood at Archer. The then-recently restored buildings were decked out in neon, awnings, and running lights, and hundreds of extras paraded up and down the block in a scene that was supposed to represent a street party on the wild side of town. While I don't think Greenwood was ever as sleazy as the scene in Rumble Fish, it was as lively, particularly in the '40s and '50s, and Coppola and his set designers do an amazing job of recapturing its lost vitality.

Coppola and Hinton wrote the screenplay on days off during the filming of The Outsiders, and Coppola began shooting Rumble Fish right after the earlier film wrapped. The movie starred Matt Dillon, Mickey Rourke, Diane Lane, Vincent Spano, and Dennis Hopper.

Rumble Fish contains frequent instances of what James Lileks calls "accidental documentary." I found myself wanting to pause every frame, searching blurry backgrounds and plate glass reflections and my own memories for clues that might help me pinpoint the exact location. I didn't follow the story as closely I might have; I was too busy looking at what Tulsa looked like in 1982-1983. (The clock with the flipping ads from Jenks Restaurant even made a prominent appearance.)

Earlier in the evening, I saw an exhibition of photos taken during the filming of Rumble Fish by Gaylord Herron, Joe Cervantez, and Western Doughty, who as a 15-year-old photographed a scene being filmed in his neighborhood, on the south side of Latimer Street between N. Cheyenne and N. Denver Ave. Cervantez had photos of Greenwood and Archer as it was dressed for the film -- tarted up to look like a strip of bars, arcades, news stands, pool halls. He also had a remarkable photo of the buildings on the west side of Greenwood, at the beginning of the restoration process of the handful of post-Riot buildings remaining after the rest had been destroyed in the late '60s by expressway construction and urban renewal. The building facades, propped up by metal poles, were all that remained.

(I'm pretty sure the police officer in the movie was the visual inspiration for Axe Cop. And Vincent Spano totally stole my late '70s - early '80s look.)

WATCH ONLINE:

Locaciones: Buscando a Rusty James is available for streaming on the website of Cinépata.

Rumble Fish is available online at viooz.co. I have no idea whether this site is licensed to show the movie, but it's there.

MORE:

If you've seen Rumble Fish and are wondering what it's all about, here are a couple of reviews that seemed especially insightful. (Warning: reviews contain spoilers.)

This Perhapses review of Rumble Fish does a good job of connecting some seemingly unconnected details in the movie.

Rumble Fish, reviewed by Liam's United States of Cinema, as part of a series of reviews of three movies set in Oklahoma.

Tulsa is not like I imagined it. It is a seedy run-down city, like the Great Falls of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. There is plenty of space for rumbles in the freight yards, under bridges and down alleyways. Drugs are rife. Yet its isolated position on the plains is made clear. The outside world is all around. Roads are thick with dust, winds whip through the streets, and the hurtling, boiling clouds are continually above, reflected in the storefront windows.

He has some notes on the locations of Benny's Billiards, the fight by the train tracks, Rusty James's apartment, the drugstore, the bridge, and the pet store.

The Oklahoma Historical Society has been scanning and posting documents from their archives, and there is a page full of links to architectural and historical surveys of Oklahoma cities and towns. The surveys were mainly conducted over the past 20 years, often by teams of students led by an architectural historian. The intent of a survey is to identify buildings and districts that may be worthy of placement on the National Register of Historic Places, a status that can convey tax benefits and grant eligibility for restoration. A survey usually includes extensive descriptions of the historical context -- when a town developed, what caused it to grow -- and descriptions of individual buildings of interest, with their historical and architectural significance. Maps and photographs are often included.

Tulsa surveys include a 1991 "Reconnaissance Level Survey" of a dozen near-north Tulsa neighborhoods, and intensive-level surveys of downtown, Reservoir Hill, Owen Park, Riverside, Swan Lake, Yorktown, and White City neighborhoods. Bartlesville, Bristow, Broken Arrow, Sand Springs, Nowata, Claremore, Cushing, Okmulgee, Muskogee, and Tahlequah are among the northeast Oklahoma cities that were surveyed.

Tulsa history expert Paul Uttinger pointed me to a couple of amazing U. S. Geological Survey (USGS) aerial photos from 1967. It captures an interesting point in time, as land was beginning to be cleared for I-244 and the Inner Dispersal Loop. Tulsa had, about a year earlier, tripled its land area in a single annexation, but much of that area was still rural. Skelly Drive (I-44) had been finished a decade earlier, the Broken Arrow Expressway was open as far as 21st Street, and bits of other expressways were already under construction. I-244 was already complete to Sheridan, and you can see where overpasses and utility viaducts had been built prior to the roadway. In some images, sections of the Gilcrease Expressway and Sand Springs (Keystone) Expressway can be seen.

Street maps and Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps generally capture only urbanized areas, but these high-resolution, high-altitude photos document the rural outskirts of Tulsa in high detail.

These images also show Tulsa before massive urban renewal. Greenwood is intact, except for demolition for I-244, mainly the buildings on the east side of Greenwood between Archer and Brady, including the Dreamland Theater. Downtown is also largely intact, except for the Civic Center (the 1969 City Hall was under construction), and the beginnings of the erosion of urban fabric for surface parking.

(UPDATE: These images are also available (along with older and newer imagery) via the USGS EarthExplorer website. You can specify a location and a time range and find imagery that includes your area of interest. These images are "Aerial Photo Single Frames" and are found under the "Aerial Imagery" category. Other data sets of interest are National High Altitude Photography (NHAP), Landsat MSS 1-5 (under Landsat Archive), GLS 1975 (under Global Land Survey). The USGS Global Visualization Viewer is another helpful tool for browsing historical aerial and satellite photographs. Here is a description of each of the image collections and data sources.)

Here is a link to the Tulsa Library collection of 1967 USGS aerial photos.

Below are direct links to each of the files that I've explored so far, with notes on interesting places found therein. These are very large PDF files.

I plan to post some "Where in Tulsa?" contests -- each one featuring a clip from one of these images, most likely a place greatly changed in the last 47 years.

Tulsa, north, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Utica Ave to Hudson Ave, Tecumseh St to 51st St N, Lake Yahola, Lakeview Amusement Park

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 73rd East Ave to 121st East Ave, Tecumseh St to 51st St N, Tulsa Airport, Mingo School, Air National Guard base, American Airlines maintenance base, Air Force Plant No. 3, Tulsa Speedway

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Darlington Ave to 101st East Ave, Tecumseh St to 51st St N, Tulsa Airport, Tulsa Zoo, Mohawk Park, Recreation Lake, Mingo School, Air National Guard base, American Airlines maintenance base, Air Force Plant No. 3

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 125th East Ave to 173rd East Ave, 11th St S to 29th St N, I-44/I-244 junction, Rose Dew, Ponderosa Estates, cement plant

Tulsa, north, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Osage County line to Delaware Ave, 41st St N to 71st St N, McLean High School, Suburban Acres, Turley

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Mingo Rd to 145th East Ave, Tecumseh St to 51st St N, Mingo Valley Expressway, quarries, Mingo School, Tulsa Speedway

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Memorial Dr to 129th East Ave, 11th St S to 29th Pl N, Mingo Valley, Gilcrease, and Crosstown interchanges (US 169, OK 11, I-244), Tulsa Airport, Air Force Plant No. 3, Western Village, 11th St Drive In Theater

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 101st East Ave to 149th East Ave, 11th St S to 29th Pl N, Western Village, old Lewis & Clark Junior High, Cooley Lake

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Zunis Ave to Sheridan Rd, 11th St S to 29th Pl N

Tulsa, downtown & northwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 33rd West Ave to Midland Valley tracks, 7th St S to 28th St N

Sand Springs, 1967 USGS aerial photo

Tulsa, northeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Harvard Ave to Memorial Dr, 11th St S to 29th Pl N, including old and new airport terminal, McClure Park

Tulsa, west, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 57th West Ave to Nogales Ave, 36th St S to Edison St / Old North Road, including Sun Refinery, Chandler Park, Berryhill

Tulsa, west, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 81st West Ave to 33rd West Ave, 36th St S to Edison St / Old North Road

Tulsa, downtown and midtown, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Union Ave to Birmingham Ave, 34th St S to Edison St / Archer St, includes Texaco Refinery, Civic Center, Utica Square

Tulsa, northeast, north midtown, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Greenwood Ave to Pittsburg Ave, 11th St S to 29th Pl N.

Tulsa, downtown and west, 1967 aerial photo, 41st West Ave to Madison Ave, 34th St S to Edison St, includes downtown, Texaco Refinery, Sun Refinery, west Tulsa

Tulsa, northwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 81st West Ave to 33rd West Ave, Charles Page Blvd to 28th St N

Tulsa, midtown, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Yorktown Ave to Joplin Ave, 33rd St S to Archer St, includes Tulsa County Fairgrounds, University of Tulsa

Tulsa, midtown, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Harvard Ave to 85th East Ave, 33rd St S to Archer St, includes Tulsa County Fairgrounds, Ma-Hu Mansion

Tulsa, east, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Hudson Ave to Mingo Valley Expressway, 33rd St S to Archer St, includes Traffic Circle, Mingo Creek

Tulsa, north, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Lewis Ave to Sheridan Rd, 41st St N to 71st St N, includes Lake Yahola, Lakeview Amusement Park, part of Tulsa Zoo

Tulsa, east, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 93rd East Ave to 121st East Ave, 33rd St S to Archer St, includes Western Village, East Central High School, Bates Tourist Hotel, Skelly Drive / Mingo Valley interchange

Tulsa, east, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Mingo Rd to 149th East Ave, 33rd St S to Archer St, includes East Central High School, Bates Tourist Hotel, Harvey Young Airport

Tulsa, far east, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 141st East Ave to 193rd East Ave, 33rd St S to Archer St / I-44, includes KVOO towers, Rose Dew, Rolling Hills, Lynn Lane School

Tulsa, southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 141st East Ave to 193rd East Ave, 53rd St S to 23rd St S, includes Cotton Field airport, Our Lady of Sorrows Convent

Tulsa, southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 125th East Ave to 173rd East Ave, 53rd St S to 23rd St S, includes Mayo farm, Our Lady of Sorrows Convent

Tulsa, southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Memorial Dr to 129th East Ave, 53rd St S to 23rd St S, includes Alsuma, Memorial Park Cemetery, Fulton neighborhood

Tulsa, southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Hudson Ave to 109th East Ave, 55th St S to 23rd St S, includes Alsuma, Memorial Park Cemetery, Fulton neighborhood, Skelly Drive/Broken Arrow Expressway interchange, The Farm

Tulsa, midtown and southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Hudson to 109th East Ave, 23rd St S to 55th St S

Tulsa, midtown and south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Lewis Ave to Sheridan Rd, 23rd St S to 55th St S, Southland, Southroads, Country Club Plaza, Edison High School, Holland Hall School

Tulsa, midtown and southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Louisville Ave to 89th East Ave, 23rd St S, 54th St S, Skelly/Broken Arrow interchange, Sinclair Research Center, Southroads, Southland, Amoco

Tulsa, midtown and southwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Quanah Ave to Delaware Ave, 23rd St S to 54th St S, Texaco Refinery, Garden City, Brookside

Tulsa, midtown and southwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 33rd West Ave to Peoria Ave, 23rd St S to 54th St S, Texaco Refinery, Red Fork, Garden City, Brookside

Tulsa, southwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 57th West Ave to Lawton Ave, 23rd St S to 54th St S, Red Fork, Texaco Refinery, Garden City, Carbon Dale, Berryhill, South Haven

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Elwood Ave to Harvard Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, Southern Hills, Turkey Mountain

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Utica Ave to Hudson Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, Southern Hills, LaFortune Park, St. Francis Hospital, Holiday Hills

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Delaware Ave to Memorial Dr, 43rd St S to 76th St S, LaFortune Park, St. Francis Hospital, Holiday Hills

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Hudson Ave to 101st East Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, LaFortune Park, St. Francis Hospital, Memorial Park

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 73rd East Ave to 121st East Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, Memorial Park, Alsuma, Union

Broken Arrow, northwest, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 101st East Ave to 165th East Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, Floral Haven Cemetery, 51 Drive In

Broken Arrow, north, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 137th East Ave to 185th East Ave, 43rd St S to 76th St S, northern Broken Arrow, Our Lady of Sorrows

Broken Arrow, all, 1967 USGS aerial photo, 149th East Ave to 197th East Ave, 65th St S to 97th St S

Tulsa, southeast, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Sheridan Rd to Garnett Rd, 65th St S to 97th St S, Meadowbrook Country Club

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Pittsburg Ave to 89th East Ave, 65th St S to 97th St S, Signal Hill, Holland Hall future campus

Tulsa, south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Lewis Ave to Sheridan Rd, 65th St S to 97th St S, Oral Roberts University, Rentie Grove, Signal Hill, Hope Hill, Holland Hall future campus, Mill Creek Pond, Jenks bridge

Jenks, east, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Lewis Ave to Sheridan Rd, 87th St S to 121st St S, Rentie Grove, Mill Creek Pond, Jenks bridge, east part of Jenks

Tulsa, far south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Harvard Ave to Memorial Dr, 87th St S to 121st St S, Rentie Grove, Mill Creek Pond

Tulsa, far south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Hudson Ave to 101st East Ave, 87th St S to 121st St S, Mill Creek Pond, Bixby North, Haikey Church

Tulsa, far south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Mingo Rd to 145th East Ave, 87th St S to 117th St S, Haikey Creek Park

Broken Arrow, far south, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Mingo Rd to 145th East Ave, 106th St S to 136th St S, Haikey Creek Park, Indian Springs

Bixby, north, 1967 USGS aerial photo, Sheridan Rd to Garnett Rd, 106th St S to 136th St S, Shallenbarger School

Jane Dunlap Maxey posted this on the Facebook group "North Tulsa 50's 60's & 70's - The Real Outsiders." It's a menu from Shakey's Pizza, labeled summer 1967. I thought it deserved reposting in a more permanently accessible location.

Shakey's Pizza
Spicy - Supreme - Robust - Exotic
... From the giant 750° ovens in the window ...

Public House Special (pepperoni and chopped green pepper)
Smoked Oyster (with olive oil)
Shakey's Famous Italian Sausage (spicy Italian)
Italian Sausage & Black Olive
Italian Salami
Lean Beef & Chopped Onions
Louisiana Shrimp
Spiced Pepperoni
Portugese Linguica (like Canadian bacon with garlic)
Imported Anchovies (from Lisbon) recommended only for anchovie lovers
Canadian Bacon
White Mushrooms (cooked in butter)
Italian Black Olive
Idiot's Delight (pimento & green pepper)
Plain (tomato - spices & exotic cheeses)
Portland Supreme (salami & green pepper)
Right Hander's Special (Friday or Lent) shrimp, mushroom & olive
Eastern Polish Sausage
Imported Sardine
Shakey's Special (Combination without anchovie)
Big Ed Special (Combination without olive)

Pizza to take home ... 10¢ extra

PIZZA IS ALWAYS EATEN WITH THE FINGERS

Shakey's Pizza is prepared with exotic blends of imported herbs, spices, and delicacies.

It was a highlight of going to Shakey's (or Shotgun Sam's) to get to look through the window at the pizza dough being tossed and the pies being slid into the ovens.

Some mysteries... perhaps you can solve them:

• What exotic cheeses were used in the plain pizza? And doesn't that undermine the notion of "plain"?
• What was it about the combination of pimento & green pepper that especially delighted idiots?
• If the Shakey's Special = ( Combination - Anchovies ) and Big Ed Special = ( Combination - Olive ), what else was in the Combination besides anchovies and olives?
• Why do they call a pizza compliant with Catholic dietary restrictions of the time (no meat on Fridays or in Lent) a Right-Hander's Special?
• Portland was a thing in 1967?

According to my copy of the 1966 Tulsa telephone book, Shakey's Pizza had two locations: 3647 S. Peoria (TEmple 5-1529) and 9124 E. Admiral (RIverside 7-1331).

Other advertisers in the "Pizza" section of the Yellow Pages that year:

Irish Mike Clancy's Pizza Village Inn, 1060-B S. Mingo Rd.
Johnny Reb's Pizza Parlor, 5651 W. Skelly Dr.
Ken's Pizza Parlor, 3024 E. 11th St, 1515 S. Sheridan
Lea's Italian Pizzeria, 1605 E. 15th St., 4207 S. Peoria, 3632 N. Peoria, 4631 E. 31st. St., 3945 E. Admiral Pl. (Midtown, Southside, Northside, Eastside, and Northeast, respectively)
The Pizza House, 6545 E. 11th St.
Pizza Hut, 5951 E. 31st St., 5303 E. 11th, 4201 S. Peoria
Pizza Inn, 7737 E. 21st St.
Sussy's Pizza, 2918 E. 11th St.
Tulsa Maiden Drive-In, 1204 S. Peoria
Tulsa Pizza Co., 912 W. Admiral
The Villa, 1546 S. Sheridan Rd.

Johnny Reb's ad invited the reader to

BRING THE FAMILY Old German Style Dark Beer 20 Varieties of Pizza Dine In or Pizza To Go Close To Motels

The Villa boasted "delicious Pizza Baked on Bricks" and "Black Beer." Ken's had "light and dark tap beer" and assured the reader that their pizza was "Made Fresh When Ordered." Pizza Inn offered "an environment for the whole family, light & dark beer, poor boy sandwiches, salads" for dine in or carry out.

MORE: Here's a montage of photos, ads and menus from Shakey's, set to banjo music. Unfortunately, Shakey's classic jingle -- "Shakey's is shakin' up... pizza, people!" -- has yet to make it to the internet.

Randy Brown has been posting Top 30 hit lists from his days at Tulsa's legendary rock station KAKC (he called himself Bob Scott on the air) on Tulsa Memories from the 60's and 70's Facebook group. The lists were based on surveys of sales at local record stores. He posted the KAKC Top 30 from September 8, 1971, and wrote:

I always sort of made it my mission in life to take over the design and publication of the weekly Big 30 list at every radio station I worked at. In 1971, I gave our Big 30 sheet a pretty dramatic redesign. And lookie!! There I am on the cover, handing over a check for cash to a lucky KAKC contest winner who knew the phrase that pays in our Pay Phone contest. Survey dated September 8, 1971.

Well, that date rang a bell. In September 1971, right after Labor Day, I started at Holland Hall as a 3rd grader, back when the lower and middle schools were at 2660 S. Birmingham Place.

That's also the week when I first heard KAKC. At our house we listened to KRMG-AM and -FM (now KWEN 95.5) -- middle-of-the-road and easy listening, respectively.

Mom taught in Catoosa and Dad worked downtown, and we lived in Rolling Hills, then unincorporated territory east of Tulsa and about 12 miles from school. So I was in a carpool. Dad would meet the carpool at the 11th & Garnett DX (SE corner, now Mazzio's).

Mr. Ivers, the elementary PE teacher, was the driver, and he was a KAKC listener.

He had a Volkswagen station wagon, and somehow he managed to squeeze five or six students in the car with him. There were a couple of sisters and a veterinarian's daughter who lived near the KVOO towers. On the way to school we picked up a Monte Cassino student (a girls' high school back then) who lived in the Rosewood neighborhood NW of 11th and Mingo. (The neighborhood was demolished after the 1984 Memorial Day flood.) Then we drove south on Memorial, stopping to pick up a girl who lived on the west side of the street, just south of a creek, about where 13th Street would have been if it had gone through. On south to 21st, then west to Lewis, south on Lewis to drop off the Monte Cassino student, then left on 27th Place and the south entrance to Holland Hall's Eight Acres campus.

Since we rode in a VW, we played a game like "Slug Bug" -- counting VWs along the way. The big prize went to the first one to call the big VW repair shop on the SW corner of 21st and Yale -- dozens of beetles, wagons, and microbuses.

KAKC was the soundtrack of my daily ride to school, new music en route to a new school in an unfamiliar part of town. My life the two previous years had centered around Admiral and 193rd East Ave. -- church, school, the Red Bud grocery store, Raley's Pharmacy, TG&Y, Lon's Laundry, In'n'Out convenience store. There was the occasional visit to a doctor's office or big shopping center in "Tulsa proper," but that involved crossing four or five miles of farmland. I was leaving behind the school where Mom taught and where my neighbors and Sunday School classmates went.

The music made an impression, and a song from that week's top 30 list has strong associations with those first rides to school: The banjo-infused "Sweet City Woman" by The Stampeders. Maybe I identified with the lyrics. "So long, Ma, so long, Pa, so long, neighbors and friends" -- if only for seven hours.

Here's a playlist I put together of all 30 songs, starting with #30 ("Imagine" -- sorry about that, but it is what it is) and ending with #1 ("The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down").

BatesLine photo, October 15, 2011, All Rights Reserved

For over a half-century, motorists driving north on Riverside Drive in Tulsa, after navigating the tricky Midland Valley underpass, were rewarded with the sight of an elegant white mansion across a vast expanse of manicured lawn.

Tomorrow, all that will end. The site with its lawn and woods was sold by owner Dan Buford to the George Kaiser Family Foundation to be used for its "Gathering Place for Tulsa." GKFF did not include the Blair Mansion in its plans for the new park, although it might have been home to a restaurant, galleries, meeting space -- any number of functions complementary to the park. A lodge is shown on the plans for the park not far from the current site of the mansion. Judging by the outraged reactions on social media, it seems everyone assumed that the Blair Mansion would be the centerpiece of this new public space.

Kylie Earls McFerrin wrote on Facebook: "This is ridiculous!!!! I love driving by there. It makes me feel like a small part of Tulsa is still intact." Monica Hughes called the property "iconic. It was reassuring to drive by it on visits up. Slowly the Tulsa of my memory is disappearing."

Buford had the right to have the mansion moved to another location, but that proved to be impractical. The house was too large, the neighborhood streets too narrow, the surrounding overpasses too low:

Buford said he spent more than a year looking into relocating the house and even hired a local company to study the logistics of such a move.

They spent about four months in that process and they finally came back to me with a written report," Buford said. "They wouldn't say that it couldn't be moved, but they didn't see how that it was worthy or feasible."

So tomorrow morning the Blair Mansion will be demolished.

Our family has had a couple of opportunities to visit, when our homeschooling group had activities in the woods south of the house, although I never had the chance to see the interior. The Blair Mansion was designed by John Duncan Forsyth and built in 1958. Oilman B. B. Blair had owned and farmed the property since 1939. According to reports, Dan Buford bought the property in 1995 after the death of Blair's widow.

Route 66 "planter" and "nature band-aid" attempt to distract from ugliness of Tulsa Community College surface parking lot.

UPDATE 2019/11/29: I'm revisiting this entry years later, as Strong Towns uses Black Friday to call attention to parking minimums, zoning laws that require a minimum number of parking spaces based on square footage and property use, far in excess of actual usage. See the end of this entry for links and video of TMAPC and City Council action to kill this proposal.

This afternoon, Wednesday, September 18, 2013, the Tulsa Metropolitan Area Planning Commission will consider a proposed change to the zoning code intended to discourage the demolition of downtown buildings for surface parking.

Here is a link to a PDF of the draft zoning code amendment regarding downtown Tulsa demolition.

The proposal is long-overdue, and the TMAPC should allow it to move forward to the City Council for consideration.

Looking southwest across the parking crater, from 10th and Detroit. Fancy Route 66 streetscaping doesn't make up for the desolation of block after empty block of surface parking.

Along with it should be the removal of financial and regulatory incentives for demolition and obstacles to adaptive reuse. The downtown assessment, which is a flat rate per square foot of building and land, allows a property owner to give himself an instant tax cut with a bulldozer. The owner of the old Page Dairy at 7th and Frankfort did just that in July 2009. Regulations requiring old apartment buildings to retrofit with state-of-the-art fire protection features are another burden on creative building reuse, increasing the likelihood of another demolition of what had been affordable downtown housing.

Page Glencliff Dairy (Fields Downs Randolph building) being demolished in 2009. Photo by Daniel Hickman.

Earlier this year, Tulsa won Streetsblog's national competition for worst "parking crater," the vast asphalt wasteland that stretches with few interruptions across the south end of downtown and reaches up along the east fringe. As hoped, the national attention has bolstered the effort to address the problem which began last July with a temporary moratorium.

Tulsa Community College, Boston Avenue Methodist Church, and First Methodist Church's contributions to Tulsa's parking crater. Near 10th and Detroit looking south.

And it is a problem. A downtown doesn't work the way a downtown should, it doesn't work as a lively urban district, if there are vast voids between clusters of buildings. Surface parking is an inhospitable environment for someone on foot. When you're walking down a street with parking on both sides, there's no place to go if the weather turns, no one around to help if there's an emergency, nothing to keep you interested.

Looking west across the parking crater from Cincinnati between 8th and 9th toward 1st Christian Church and Holy Family Cathedral. Tulsa Community College lot is in the foreground.

I remember a 1996 visit from a college friend. He and a colleague came from Massachusetts to Tulsa that July to man a booth at the American Council of the Blind annual convention. Because they were staying downtown at the Doubletree, they didn't bother to rent a car. What a mistake! The first night in town they set off east on 7th Street in search of dinner, thinking that surely they'd find something downtown. Instead, they found a whole lot of nothing -- empty lots and closed office buildings. The view wouldn't be much different today.

Looking west along 9th Street, part of Tulsa's parking crater

What life we have downtown, we owe to building owners like David Sharp who chose to buy and hold on to modest, usually unremarkable older buildings in the Blue Dome and Bob Wills Districts as one building after another were taken for parking.

Why do old buildings matter? Here's an explanation from my June 7, 2006, column on the legacy of urban journalist Jane Jacobs:

[Jacobs wrote]: "Cities need old buildings so badly it is probably impossible for vigorous streets and districts to grow without them. By old buildings I mean not museum-piece old buildings... but also a good lot of plain, ordinary, low-value old buildings, including some rundown old buildings."

Think about the most lively and interesting places in Tulsa, the kind of places you'd take a visitor for a night on the town: Brookside, the Blue Dome District, Brady Village, Cherry Street, 18th and Boston. Each of those districts had an abundance of old buildings, buildings that are for the most part unremarkable. But those buildings provided an inexpensive place for someone with a dream to start a new business.

You might have seen the same kind of vitality develop in the south part of downtown, with business springing up to serve the tens of thousands who attend classes at TCC's Metro Campus or participate in activities at the downtown churches, but so many of the buildings have been taken for parking by the churches and by TCC that a prospective business owner would be hard-pressed to find a location.

"As for really new ideas of any kind - no matter how ultimately profitable or otherwise successful some of them might prove to be - there is no leeway for such chancy trial, error and experimentation in the high-overhead economy of new construction. Old ideas can sometimes use new buildings. New ideas must use old buildings."

Nearly all of downtown is under a special zoning classification (Central Business District, CBD) which, unlike every other part of the city, has no minimum parking requirements for businesses. But the other factors have encouraged demolition for parking: The costs of bringing an old building up to code, demand for office parking during downtown's late '70s, early '80s boom (roughly 70,000 downtown employees), Tulsa Community College's land-banking (buy a building, level it for student parking), reserve it for future development), and Sunday morning demand driven by our unusually healthy downtown churches.

Way back in 1998, the first time I ran for City Council, I proposed a demolition moratorium and a downtown parking summit. Since offices, churches, and TCC all generated parking demand at different times, it seemed like it should be possible to accommodate everyone's needs without dismantling more of what little remains of our urban fabric.

As bad as downtown already was, it was getting worse. Around that time, the Catholic Diocese of Tulsa demolished the Tulsa Apartments at 9th and Main (a pair of four-story brick buildings from the 1920s) and the old Cathey's Furniture showroom along the west side of Main between 8th and 9th. A diocesan spokesman told me at the time that the intention was to build a new chancery building and a grand plaza with the cathedral as backdrop. Instead, they simply tore down the buildings, paved the lot, and striped it for parking, as it remains today.

Site of Tulsa Apartments and Cathey's Furniture, 9th and Main, demolished in 1998 by the Catholic Diocese of Tulsa; now surface parking

When downtown leaders began the process of reopening the Main Mall to vehicular traffic, I urged that the city get commitments from adjoining property owners not to demolish their buildings for parking. If the point of reopening the mall was to allow businesses along Main to flourish, tearing down the few remaining buildings would defeat the purpose. Not long after, Arvest Bank demolished three older two-story buildings on the west side of Main north of 6th Street. A few years later, the Tulsa World demolished the old Froug's Department Store on the southwest corner of 3rd and Main for an air conditioning plant, and then Kanbar Properties tore down two single-story retail buildings just north of 5th on the east side of Main.

Tulsa Deco District sign decorates Arvest Bank parking lot. The three early 20th century Plains Commercial buildings on this site were pulled down by Arvest in the early 2000s.

Site of the Lerner Shops building (once the first home to KGCT-TV 41) and another building that were purchased and then demolished by Kanbar Properties.

In 2006, vocal downtown office building owners, who seemed to see downtown as nothing more than an office park, blocked a set of modest downtown preservation measures called the CORE recommendations from even moving out of the recommendation stage. Susan Neal, an advisor to then-Mayor Kathy Taylor on development issues, played a significant role in obstructing progress on the issue, presumably with the knowledge and approval of her boss.

The recommendations were modest and appropriate, but it took five years before they began to become a reality:

1. Review all downtown buildings.
2. Be proactive in meeting parking demand with structured parking, and discourage surface parking.
3. Make downtown preservation a key component of Tulsa's new comprehensive plan.
4. Create and promote incentives for redevelopment.
5. Create a demolition review panel, to be designated by the Preservation Commission, that could halt demolition of a significant building for up to four months.

Plenty of our peer cities in the region, large and small, have put limits on demolition in the interest of historic preservation. Some have managed to combine historic preservation and parking. In Abilene, Texas, we noticed a number of hundred-year-old one-story buildings that had been opened up for parking. The structure is intact, ready for restoration to a more lucrative use.

Old buildings in downtown Abilene, Texas, converted to covered parking, preserving them for some future use.

That's been done in Tulsa, too, although it's not as visible. For many years the bottom floor of the old Renberg's building on Main has been used as parking, with access from the alley east of Main. When the Snyder family began to restore the Mayo Hotel, their first step was to convert the basement for parking, generating revenue that was later used to turn the first two floors into a space that could be rented for wedding receptions and other special events.

I urge the TMAPC to allow the proposal to move forward to the City Council. I urge the Tulsa City Council to approve limits on downtown demolition and to provide relief from regulatory and financial burdens that create incentives for demolition rather than reuse.

TAKE ACTION:

You can attend and speak at the TMAPC hearing, which begins at 1:30 pm today in the Tulsa City Council chambers on the 2nd (ground) floor of City Hall. Enter at 2nd and Cincinnati. The item is fairly early in the agenda, after a series of lot splits (usually routinely approved) and some "housekeeping" amendments to the Comprehensive Plan. (Most of those "housekeeping" amendments involve fixing errors in Comprehensive Plan designations, a couple involve patching the plan to reflect zoning decisions made out of accord with the plan, but one would involve commercial intrusion into a neighborhood on the west side of 2nd and Memorial. There's also a proposal to include more legible, large-format maps as part of the printed version of the Comprehensive Plan.)

You can also register your opinions on the City of Tulsa Planning Department's FeedBack site, which has a page devoted to the proposed downtown demolition ordinance. This is treated as official feedback, and you are required, as you would be at a public hearing, to register with your real name and address. (Your address is kept confidential, but you will be identified on the site by name and council district.)

MORE:

Tulsa's progress through the Streetsblog "Parking Madness" competition for America's worst parking crater:

Sweet 16: Tulsa vs. Philadelphia: Tulsa won 95% to 5%. (Philadelphia crater had actually been redeveloped by the time of the contest.)
Elite Eight: Tulsa vs. Cleveland: Tulsa won 77% to 23%.
Final Four: Tulsa vs. Houston: Tulsa won 60% to 40%.
Championship: Tulsa vs. Milwaukee: Tulsa won 82% to 18%.

Streetsblog's report on how Denver repaired its parking crater:

In the 1990s, in response to the creeping cancer of surface parking, the Mile High City took action. The city changed its downtown zoning to eliminate surface parking as a use by right. So if you owned a building, you were welcome to tear it down, but you couldn't park cars on the lot. All existing parking lots were grandfathered in.

A relevant quote from a renowned urban planner:

"Actually, there is a point at which a city can satisfy its parking needs. This situation can be found in many small, older American cities and is almost always the result of the same history: at mid-century, with automobile ownership on the rise, a charming old downtown with a wonderful pedestrian realm finds itself in need of more parking spaces. It tears down a few historic buildings and replaces them with surface parking lots, making the downtown both easier to park in and less pleasant to walk through. As more people drive, it tears down a few more buildings, with the same result. Eventually, what remains of the old downtown becomes unpleasant enough to undermine the desire to visit, and the demand for parking is easily satisfied by the supply. This phenomenon could be called the Pensacola Parking Syndrome, in honor of one of its victims."

-- Andres Duany, Suburban Nation, p. 162 [footnote]

UPDATE:

On September 18, 2013, the TMAPC voted 10-1 to recommend against adoption of the proposed downtown demolition and surface parking ordinance. Bill Leighty was the sole commissioner to support the ordinance. His motion to continue the item for 60 days to allow for further public input and amendment was shut down by an 8-3 vote (Mark Liotta and Dwain Midget voted with Bill Leighty in favor). The TMAPC discussion on the ordinance and all comments filed in favor and against can be found in the backup material provided to the City Council.

On October 17, 2013, the Urban and Economic Development Committee of the Tulsa City Council took up the TMAPC's anti-recommendation. Because the TMAPC took action, the City Council had the power to take up the proposed ordinance and approve it, despite the TMAPC's opposition. No action on this item was recorded in the minutes, but video of the meeting reveals that committee chairman Blake Ewing proposed taking no action on the ordinance whatsoever; councilors G. T. Bynum and Phil Lakin spoke in agreement with Ewing. No vote was taken. There was vague talk of a council task force to try to find consensus and then maybe another attempt in the spring. I can't find any trace of this task force being formed. The proposed ordinance was killed for lack of action by the council committee. Jack Fothergill from the City Attorney's office informed the committee that any councilor could put the item on the council's agenda; evidently none ever did.

Here is video of the October 17, 2013, Tulsa City Council Urban and Economic Development Committee meeting. It uses Windows Media Player codecs, and you will need the Silverlight browser extension to watch it; you might have better luck watching it in Internet Explorer or Microsoft Edge.

And here is video of the September 18, 2013, TMAPC hearing, which runs two hours:

Researcher's note: Sometime in 2017, the city switched to a different provider for online video. The archive of the previous provider (Granicus) is still online, but there is no index for finding the video for a specific meeting. I used a search engine to find video for one 2013 meeting, then tried different values for the clip_id parameter in the URL, going up by 100, finding the right range of dates, then narrowing down to find the exact meeting.

FINAL UPDATE! Council votes 7-to-Patrick to change the name within the IDL to M. B. Brady Street in honor of the Civil War era photographer, thus preserving the street name while clarifying that we don't wish to honor W. Tate Brady. Not sure if I should applaud the finesse of this move or hoot derision at a too-clever-by-half decision that is likely to make no one happy. Maybe the most eloquent reaction is a comment by JR Seifried on KRMG's story: "lolwut"

UPDATED AND BUMPED 2013/08/15: Yesterday, Councilor Phil Lakin, who was missing from last week's debate and tie vote and won't tell how he would have voted had he been there, announced that tonight's up-or-down vote may not happen:

Originally published on August 12, 2013.

The problem with the proposal to eradicate the name Brady from Tulsa's map is that it doesn't go far enough. Tate Brady was a founder of the City of Tulsa and a booster of its early growth, but he was also involved in some evil and despicable acts and organizations.

On Thursday, the City Council will vote again on whether to rename a street that honors a Klansman to honor instead a family that grew wealthy on the human misery of the slave trade.

The renaming of Brady Street and Brady Place to Burlington Street and Burlington Place respectively would be one of several Tulsa street renamings in recent years. These are true renamings, not mere double-signing. (An example of double-signing: 41st Street between Peoria and Riverside is called "Nancy Apgar Avenue" to honor the late Brookside Neighborhood Association leader, but 41st Street remains the address of homes and businesses along that stretch of road.)

In 1997, Tulsa renamed the former Osage Expressway to honor the late Baptist pastor and civil rights leader L. L. Tisdale. The former Crosstown Expressway, which bears I-244 and US 412 from the Inner Dispersal Loop to the eastern city limits, was renamed the Martin Luther King Junior Memorial Expressway in 1984 at the direction of then-Gov. George Nigh. A segment of Haskell Street was renamed John Hope Franklin Boulevard in honor of the historian. Last year, N. Cincinnati Avenue from Archer Street to the northern city limits was renamed Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard -- an idea that had been brewing since the late 1980s.

But Tate Brady was hardly alone in his evil deeds and attitudes. His case has attracted the most attention because of Lee Roy Chapman's research in This Land Press, but there are others who are honored in the name of a street, a school, a library, or a theater who contributed to some atrocity of the past or held attitudes that we now consider repugnant.

Overlook for the moment any positive contributions to the community, and let's look at the worst that can be said about many of the people whose names are reflected in city streets and city-owned property.

For example, the city's Richard Lloyd Jones Jr. Airport honors the late Tulsa Tribune executive and long-time airport authority member. But he was named to honor Richard Lloyd Jones Sr., his father and predecessor at the Tribune who is believed to have published an inflammatory editorial that sparked the 1921 attack on Tulsa's African-American community.

Not to ignore another former Tulsa newspaper family, Eugene Lorton was publisher of the Tulsa World in November 1917 when its editorial page called for the lynching of members of the International Workers of the World. A day later, a group called the Knights of Liberty kidnapped and tortured 17 members of the I. W. W.; Tate Brady was named as a ringleader in what became known as the "Tulsa Outrage."

Tate Brady chaired the committee for the 1918 reunion of the United Confederate Veterans, but many of the other names on the committee are honored with Tulsa parks and streets. S. R. Lewis is the namesake of Lewis Avenue. Charles Page has a boulevard. The names Owen, Howard, and Turner can be found on city parks. Eugene Lorton's name is on this list, as are famous Tulsa oilmen McBirney and McFarlin. C. N. Haskell, Oklahoma's first governor, is on the list, too -- he signed the state's Jim Crow laws and is the namesake of Haskell St.

That's just early-day Tulsa. We haven't touched the places named to honor the architects of the second destruction of the Greenwood district via urban renewal and the Model Cities program in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Mayors, commissioners, city attorneys, members of committees -- all should be investigated for culpability in demolishing what Tulsa's African-American community painstakingly rebuilt after the 1921 riot.

Greenwood itself is named after Greenwood, Mississippi, which is named for Choctaw chief Greenwood LeFlore, who owned slaves, betrayed his own people by signing the treaty for the tribe's removal to Oklahoma, and urged the Five Tribes to support the Confederacy.

We could rename Greenwood to Garrison, to match the name the sixth block east of Main has in far-north Tulsa, but Garrison got its name for racist reasons. The blue-collar white people to whom Tulsa's far-north subdivisions were first marketed wouldn't have wanted to live on a street whose name was associated with Tulsa's African-American community.

We can't do anything about George Kaiser Family Foundation naming its private property after Woody Guthrie, who was a vocal advocate for a murderous ideology responsible for the deaths of tens of millions and the enslavement of billions in Russia, China, Cuba, southeast Asia, and around the globe. But Tulsa could dis-honor the old Red by giving Guthrie Avenue a different name.

One block further west, Sam Houston was involved in the theft of Texas from Latino rule to Anglo rule. Indian and Jackson Avenues are, ironically, next to each other. President Andrew Jackson, the founder of the modern Democrat Party, was a racist demagogue responsible for the deaths of thousands of Native Americans on the Trail of Tears.

Waco Avenue may have had a neutral meaning when it was named, but nowadays it's associated with the burning of the Branch Davidian compound, which inspired the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Building in Oklahoma City, according to the perpetrator of that atrocity.

Rather than handle these renamings piecemeal, with the potential of a new renaming (and a four-hour long public hearing) at every week's City Council meeting, the City Council should appoint a diverse commission of historically minded citizens to research the histories of all names under the control of the City of Tulsa and its boards and commissions.

This commission -- perhaps to be called the Commission for the Sanitation of Politically Incorrect Names (C-SPIN) -- would report back with a comprehensive recommendation to rename certain streets, an estimate of the cost to rename, and a revenue proposal (sales tax or general obligation bond issue) for funding the recommended renamings, including city expenses like street signage and grants to affected businesses and residents to cover signage, business cards, letterhead, and other street renaming expenses.

The commission would have to consider whether a person's misdeeds rises to the level of deserving the removal of his or her name from a public place. They might wish to set criteria that would be applied consistently to decide thumbs up or down. Not everyone will agree with my worst-case assessments

Just like the Federal Base Re-Alignment and Closure Commission (BRAC), the recommendation could not be amended, but would be submitted to City of Tulsa voters for an up-or-down vote on the renaming and the tax to fund it.

One-by-one renaming will be inefficient and unquestionably inconsistent. A comprehensive review of all names at once will allow the mayor and council to focus on other crises, will tend toward a consistent application of criteria, and will put the matter to rest for, we hope, many years. I hope the City Council will consider this possibility on Thursday.

Legendary guitarist and songwriter J. J. Cale died Friday, July 26, 2013, of a heart attack. He was 74. Cale wrote a number of hit songs, including "After Midnight" and "Cocaine."

Cale was born in Oklahoma City, but grew up in Tulsa, graduating from Tulsa's Central High School in 1956. Cale was a leader of a wave of talented Tulsa musicians that brought a distinctive bluesy sound to rock music in the '60s and '70s. The Tulsa Sound has been described as a "mix of Rockabilly, Country, Rock 'n' Roll, and Blues sounds of the late 1950s and early 1960s," and it influenced Eric Clapton and Mark Knopfler among others.

Here's a documentary about J. J. Cale, "To Tulsa and Back," filmed in 2004 and released in 2006, in which he revisits and reminisces about places from his childhood and young adulthood. The film is full of historic photos and film of Tulsa in the 1950s. Eric Clapton talks at length about Cale and the group of Tulsa musicians that shaped his solo sound. Rocky Frisco, Bill Raffensperger, and Jim Karstein are among the Tulsa musicians who worked with Cale as early as 1957 who share their memories.

The debate over purging the name Brady from Tulsa streets and landmarks has made international news.

Tulsa City Council researcher Jack Blair discovered a December 24, 1907, street-naming ordinance that shows that Archer, Brady, and Haskell streets had different names in the initial draft -- Archer was Atchison, Brady was Burlington. The name crossed out in favor of Haskell is illegible -- an eight-character name presumably beginning with "H". (UPDATE: Paul Uttinger has learned from contemporary newspaper accounts of the debate that the originally proposed "H" street was "Hiawatha." Paul also notes that many of the cities in the list of proposed street names were in northeastern Kansas or northwestern Missouri; Alderman James W. Woodford was from Burlington in northeastern Kansas. See his comment below.)

Jeff Archer was an early Tulsa merchant. Archer was killed in 1894 by an explosion caused by a drunk shooting into a barrel of gunpowder in his store. W. Tate Brady was an incorporator of the City of Tulsa. Charles N. Haskell was the first governor of Oklahoma.

In the 1907 Sanborn Fire Map of Tulsa, there is an Archer Ave. and a Brady Ave., but not at their current locations. Archer Ave. was between Cheyenne and Osage (one block west of Denver Ave.) -- present day Edison St. Brady Ave. was present day Golden St. between Denver and Osage. The street runs to the north of the Brady Mansion. In between (what is now Fairview St.) was Mowbray Ave., named to honor the Rev. George W. Mowbray, Methodist pastor, Mayor of Tulsa, and father-in-law to Jeff Archer.

My theory is that, when the city decided in 1907 to rename the original Archer and Brady streets to create alphabetical order and consistency, friends of the Archer and Brady families pushed to have those names re-used for the "A" and "B" streets north of the tracks. (I'm not sure why Rev. Mowbray was left out.) Someone should check newspaper microfilm from December 1907 to see if there are any accounts of the decision-making process and any controversy surrounding it.

There are a few distinctions that need to be made.

The Brady Theater was built 1912-1914 as the city's Convention Hall. Later it became known as the Tulsa Municipal Theater. It was the place for ballet and symphony performances prior to the Performing Arts Center. When Peter Mayo bought it from the city at auction in 1978, he dubbed it the "Old Lady on Brady" because of its age and its location on Brady Street. Late '80s and early '90s news stories refer to it by the "Old Lady" name. By the mid-'90s, it had been rebranded as the Brady Theater. The theater's connection with Tate Brady is secondary -- the theater was named after the street, which was named after Tate Brady.

Sometime in the late 1980s, as warehouse districts became popular for arts and entertainment redevelopment, the idea of "Brady Village" as an arts district began to catch on. It was formally adopted in the city's 1989 Downtown Master Plan. Mayfest was held in Brady Village in 1991 and 1992. (I remember seeing Asleep at the Wheel in 1992 on an open-air stage in a parking lot where the Fairfield Inn now is, and later that evening at Cain's Ballroom. A co-worker and a couple of friends were leasing the Continental Supply Company building and had converted it into a loft.)

In July 1992, Spaghetti Warehouse opened. In December 1993, Mexicali Border Cafe opened. The connection of the district to Tate Brady is tertiary: The district was named after the theater, which was named after the street, which was named after Tate Brady. My guess is that Brady was chosen as the district's name because it evoked turn-of-the-century railroads and industry. I suspect that the organizers were thinking more about Diamond Jim Brady than Tate Brady.

Brady Heights is the name of a subdivision that was platted along N. Denver Avenue, on a hill overlooking downtown. The subdivision gave its name to the historic preservation district established in the 1990s; the HP district incorporates parts of adjacent subdivisions.

The Brady Mansion, which is in the Brady Heights historic district, is so called because Tate Brady built it and lived there.

The city has control over the name of Brady Street, and the City Council (with mayoral approval) could decide to rename it. Brady Street isn't just downtown, but it extends to the east and west limits of the city and even beyond. A Catoosa subdivision just north of I-44 and east of Lynn Lane Rd used Tulsa street names, since it was developed in the 1960s when the area was unincorporated. Changing a street name has far-reaching impact. It affects every homeowner and business owner

The city also could choose to rename the TIF district that encompasses the arts district or the name of the Brady Heights historic preservation district. These names are matters of city ordinance, but because the names of these entities are derived from pre-existing places, changing the name would create a geographical disconnect.

All the other Brady names are under private control. The owner could choose to change the name of the Brady Theater. The Brady Heights Neighborhood Association could rename itself, as could the Brady Arts District Business Association.

All these places could be renamed, but should they?

Until the campaign to rename Brady Street began, I doubt many Tulsans knew the significance of the name, any more than they knew what Xanthus or Xyler meant. One could argue that the street name has transcended its connection to its namesake. Most Tulsa street names were chosen arbitrarily to fit into an alphabetical scheme, and I imagine most Tulsans, if they thought about it at all, assumed the name Brady was equally arbitrary.

If they do rename it, I hope at least they use a name beginning with a B. The city has already violated alphabetical order twice in recent years, renaming part of Haskell Street to John Hope Franklin Blvd. and renaming half of Cincinnati Avenue as Martin Luther King Junior Blvd.

I would like to see the name of the arts district changed, and I like Lee Roy Chapman's suggestion of calling it the Bob Wills District, as it acknowledges a musician of worldwide renown who made his fame in the district, at Cain's Ballroom, and it fits nicely with the area's reputation as a home for live music. The name "Bob Wills District" on a map would be a magnet for worldwide fans of the man's music who want to connect with his legacy.

As a brand name for the area, the name Bob Wills has positive associations reaching far beyond Tulsa that would add to the good feelings Tulsans have about the neighborhood north of the tracks as a place to have fun. The name Brady has been associated in the minds of Tulsans with restaurants and bars and live music for over 20 years, but those positive associations are now tainted by what we've learned recently about Tate Brady.

I doubt that the Brady name means much to people outside of Tulsa. Even if you disregard Brady's membership in the Klan and involvement in the race riot, which historical figure would you associate with fun: A dour civic leader who committed suicide, or this guy?

Call it the Bob Wills District, and you've got a built-in slogan: "Stay all night, stay a little longer."

Lee Roy Chapman's 2011 story about Tate Brady is a reminder that many other prominent Tulsans of that era, whose names adorn streets and parks and buildings all over town, were as culpable as Brady. If we start by purging Brady's name, we cannot stop there. Names like Lorton and Jones and Lewis will have to go, too. Cyrus Avery, the father of Route 66, whom we've just honored with a plaza and a sculpture, was involved with real estate in Greenwood. If we dug deeply into his record, would we feel the need to erase his name from the map? And shouldn't our purge include the civic leaders who pushed for Greenwood's second destruction in the 1960s and 1970s? That probably means removing the names of the mayors of that era (Hewgley, LaFortune) and other officials (like City Attorney Charles Norman) from buildings and places.

MORE:

In 2011, Fox 23 interviewed Tulsa Race Riot survivor Wess Young, who lives in Brady Heights:

He doesn't want the neighborhood's name to change. "That's history, why would you try and change what has gone one and not show what progress you have made," he told FOX23. He says he doesn't live in Tate Brady's neighborhood, he lives in his neighborhood. No matter what name it has. "It doesn't bother me because I have the privilege to live where I can afford."

I wrote at the time:

My thinking -- keep Brady Street and Brady Heights as a humbling reminder that men like Brady were a part of Tulsa's past, but pick a better name to market the area north of the tracks downtown. I like Lee Roy Chapman's suggestion: Call it the Bob Wills District.

It is an exciting thing to see Greenwood alive as it was in its heyday.

The Solomon Sir Jones collection of films, discovered about seven years ago by Oklahoma historian Currie Ballard, is available for viewing on the website of Yale University's Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. In 2006, Ballard was concerned about finding a home for these rare and precious films documenting the resilience and industry of African-Americans in Oklahoma. Within three years, the films were available through Global Image Works. Now Yale is making them available for viewing and download.

Dr. S. S. Jones was a Baptist pastor in Okmulgee, a denominational leader, and a businessman. This collection consists of about six hours worth of film, in 29 reels, of African-Americans in Oklahoma in the mid-1920s. Jones had a good 16 mm camera and a kit for making titles using white letters on a black background; nearly every segment has an identifying title.

Jones would occasionally insert other films or shots of photographs. Film 18 begins with a short, stock clip of Pacific coast fishermen. That was followed by a procession of 71 white-robed baptismal candidates and hundreds of other church goers entering First Church in Okmulgee. I could imagine Jones showing this silent film to a group and narrating something about being fishers of men.

Starting about 5 minutes in, there are extended clips of Tulsa's Greenwood District: The S. D. Hooker Dry Goods company at 123 N. Greenwood; smartly-dressed members of the Tulsa Business League; photos of Mt. Zion Baptist Church, destroyed just two months after it was dedicated, and then film of the church as it was at the time -- just the basement that survived the riot; the C. B. Bottling Works at 528 E. Archer (SW of Archer and Greenwood); street scenes on Greenwood, including a funeral procession of cars; students at the noon hour at Booker T. Washington High School and on the playground and in the agricultural gardens at Dunbar Elementary School.

On film 28 there is about three minutes footage of C. C. Pyle's Bunion Derby, including close-ups of winner Andy Payne and many of the other runners.

Of course, this isn't just about Tulsa. Okmulgee, Muskogee, Taft, Boley, Okay, Langston, Porter, Coweta, Hugo, Bristow, Wetumka are among the other Oklahoma cities and towns featured in these movies.

This is really exciting stuff.

UPDATE 2024/09/30: The Yale caption at the end of Film 2 identifies a civic auditorium as Tulsa's, but the fenestration and relationship to the street don't match Tulsa Municipal Theater. It does match the Birmingham, Alabama, Municipal Auditorium, now known as Boutwell Memorial Auditorium. The building, opened in 1924, still stands, but with a modern entry hall that was constructed in 1957 on the plaza in front of the auditorium shown in the 1927 film.

About four years ago, Lee Roy Chapman set out on a quest to find Bob Wills's 1948 Flxible Clipper tour bus. He found Bob's bus, and a companion -- the bus of Wills's good friend, western swing bandleader Hoyle Nix -- rusting in a field near Big Spring, Texas, Nix's home base. Chapman reached a deal with the owner to hold the option on the bus until he could raise the money to pay the asking price and bring the bus back to Tulsa. The hope was to exhibit it here, near Cain's Ballroom, the house that Bob built, and take it on tour as well.

It seemed like an impossible dream at the time.

On Tuesday, June 11, 2013, Bob's bus came home, thanks to the help of Loren Frederick. Here's a photo from his Facebook page of the bus entering Tulsa County at the Turner Turnpike terminus.

I hope to have more of the story soon, but in the meantime western swing fans can look forward to the day when we can once again "Ride with Bob."

MORE: Lee Roy Chapman also put forward the idea that the arts district north of the Frisco tracks in downtown Tulsa should be marketed as the Bob Wills District, rather than the Brady Arts District, named (indirectly, by way of Brady Street and the Brady Theater) for Tulsa founder, segregationist, Democratic National Committeeman, and Klansman (but I repeat myself) Tate Brady. Read his This Land Press investigative report on Tate Brady's role in vigilantism, the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot, and its aftermath.

This looks interesting. Tonight, Sunday, May 26, 2013, at 5 p.m. at the Church of the Restoration, 1314 N. Greenwood Ave., there will be an event sponsored by the Tulsa African Ancestral Society, entitled "Black Wall Street: The Ninth Wonder." The poster shows four photos of the Williams Dreamland Theater: Before the 1921 Tulsa race riot, the gutted theater in the aftermath of the riot, the new theater under construction, and the new theater open for business. The photos and the caption -- "Rebuilt Black Wall Street, Tulsa, Oklahoma, Reopened and Ready for Business" -- suggest that the event will be about the post-riot resurrection of Tulsa's African-American neighborhood. I've written about the rebuilding of Tulsa's Greenwood District and its ultimate dismantling by expressway construction of urban renewal; perhaps this event will have the same theme.

This Land Press has posted photos of every page of the Booker T. Washington High School Yearbook from 1921, the year of the race riot that destroyed the community which Washington High served.

Faculty: Nine men, six women, and all appear to be African-American.

Course of Study

Freshman Class

Latin
English
Algebra
Drawing
Domestic Science and Art
Manual Training
Ancient History
Vocal Music

Sophomore Class

Latin
English
Geometry
Domestic Art
Drawing
Medieval and Modern History
Economics
Music
Domestic Science
Manual Training

Junior Class

English
Algebra
Commercial Arithmetic
Drawing
Manual Training
Business Spelling
Chemistry
English History
Civics
Domestic Art
Domestic Science
Vocal Music

Senior Class

English
Physics
Geometry Solid
Typewriting
Vocal Music
Domestic Science
Manual Training
American History
Psychology
Trigonometry Plain
Book Keeping
Drawing
Domestic Art
Shorthand

"All classes are required to take part in some form of Athletics."

There are reports of extensive fire damage to the Rolling Hills Shopping Center, on Admiral Pl west of 193rd East Ave in far east Tulsa.

Assistant Fire Marshal Rick Bruder told reporters that a discount store and a pizza restaurant were likely destroyed as the fire caused their roofs to collapse. Also damaged is a clothing store, an insurance agency and an auto parts store.

It's telling that none of the news reports name the center. There once was an impressive sign at the Admiral Place entrance, but it's been long gone.

When my family moved to Rolling Hills in 1969, the Rolling Hills Shopping Center was the only such place for miles around. (The next nearest shopping center was Wagon Wheel at Admiral and Garnett.) County Assessor records say that it was built in 1968. Here's the lineup, from east to west, as I remember it:

OTASCO (not there in 1969, but built on in the 1970s)
Red Bud Supermarket
Raley's Pharmacy
Mini-Mall (with barber shop)
T. G. & Y.
Liquor store
Dry cleaners
Lon's Laundry (around the corner, facing west)

And then the freestanding buildings:

Tastee Freeze (built in 1965, northwest corner)
Roll-In Lounge (east side, facing 193rd)
Phillips 66 (corner of Admiral and 193rd)

There was an MFA insurance agent in there somewhere, too. Roll-In Lounge was a beer joint (B. Y. O. L.). The mini-mall had a space where my sister took tap and ballet lessons. In high school, she worked for Raley's.

Before we had our own washer and dryer, we'd take our laundry to Lon's. The fellow who ran it (Lon, I suppose) was white-headed, tall, and skinny, and he whistled tunes that I didn't recognize. It was hot and steamy, especially in the summer, and there was the smell of soap powder and the taste of a cold bottle of Grapette from the Pepsi machine. I don't recall that it was air conditioned. I can remember sitting in Lon's in a shell-backed metal lawn chair, with a notebook, a 4-color pen, and a road atlas, plotting out an upcoming family vacation, while we waited on the next load to finish.

The T. G. & Y. -- 5¢ to $1.00 -- was where you went for school supplies, fabric, and simple toys. They lasted until not long after Wal-Mart built their first Tulsa store (assessor records say 1972, but that seems too early to me), about 40,000 square feet, less than half the size of a SuperCenter. I recall T. G. & Y. posting defiant "we will not be undersold!" signs. The Wal-Mart building is now some sort of light industrial business. The T. G. & Y. space became a C. R> Anthony store and then (much later) Dollar General.

When OTASCO closed, Red Bud took over the space. At some point, they became Marvin's. Old-timers will remember a stand near the entrance that sold Hillbilly Barbecue sandwiches.

Although the center has been in the City of Tulsa's limits since 1966, it's always been associated with Catoosa, as most of its patrons were in the town of Catoosa or its school district. Rolling Hills east of 193rd was unincorporated back then, but in the Catoosa school district.

It's been sad to see the decline of the center, but it has followed the same downward path as similar centers built in the same era. The presence of the Hard Rock Casino seems to have drawn all the new development to the Catoosa side of I-44 (which is the Tulsa/Catoosa and Tulsa County / Rogers County boundary).

When I was in kindergarten (1969-1970) in Mrs. Chambers's class at Catoosa Elementary School , we took a field trip to a place just up on US 66 called Nature's Acres. Mr. Hugh Davis, the owner, showed us alligators in a pond and an actual snake pit. Our assistant principal and P. E. teacher, Mr. Hough, got to pick up one of the venomous snakes because he knew how. (We all knew Mr. Hough was a tough guy. Conventional wisdom held that Mr. Hough had an electric paddle with holes to make it swing faster and hit harder.) Then we went into an ark (the Animal Reptile Kingdom) that housed a nature museum, where we had a snack (probably milk and cookies). The ARK was on dry land, but there was an unremarkable pond nearby.

A few years later that unremarkable pond was a public swimming hole, surrounded by a sandy beach, a restroom building that looked like a tropical grass hut, and whimsical picnic tables, and in the middle of it all, a big Blue Whale. You could walk in his mouth, slide down his fins, or jump off his tail into the water. Catoosa had no city pool; the Blue Whale was the place to cool off on hot summer days.

2012 is the Blue Whale's 40th birthday, and the community is throwing a 40th Birthday Bash, open to the public, this Friday night, September 7, 2012, from 6 pm to 9 pm. Cake and ice cream and blue punch will be served, and there will be a DJ and dancing. It should be a great celebration for Route 66 roadies and old-time Catoosans alike.

The night before, Thursday, September 6, 2012, 5 p.m. to 9 p.m., Blue will welcome the annual Blue Tie Affair, a fundraising banquet hosted by the Catoosa Arts and Tourism Society and catered by another Route 66 Catoosa icon, Molly's Landing. For a $50 donation, you get a steak dinner -- a Molly's Landing filet cooked on site with all the fixings. Dessert is Molly's famous bread pudding with Jack Daniels sauce. The Danny Baker Band will provide music and wineries will offer samples of their wares. Tickets are still available: Call 918-266-6042 or email the whale at bluewhalek2croute66@gmail.com.

A serendipitous find: LIFE magazine's April 13, 1942, issue included a six-page story about high school education in Tulsa, with photos by Alfred Eisenstaedt. The story, "Tulsa High Schools: They Are Making Progressive Education Work," highlighted non-traditional classes and teaching techniques at three of Tulsa's four high schools -- Central, Daniel Webster, and Will Rogers:

• Central's rhythmic dance class for girls and water safety class
• Student custodians washing Central's front steps for 25 cents per hour (attn: Newt Gingrich)
• Central's cooperative education program: Students split time between a job and school, where they study work related subjects. The two examples given are Raymond Stout, who works as a machinist for W. C. Norris, a maker of oilfield equipment, and Ida Bess Giboney, who sells lingerie at Vandever's department store.
• A "block period" at Central: Three teachers of different subjects work with a group of students on different aspects their assignments, using magazines and newspapers instead of textbooks. "Artificial barriers between subject areas [are] abolished."
• Webster's Family Life class: Students provide full-day daycare for three- and four-year-olds.
• Webster's sewing class
• Will Rogers's commercial art class
• An odd-looking flag salute at a Will Rogers High assembly
• Central students lobbying the Tulsa Parks Commissioner

And, according to the caption, Central student Charlene Houston had a figure problem and had to do exercises with her pelvis in a vise to fix it.

There are many more photos from Eisenstaedt's visit in Google's image archive, above and beyond those that made it to print. Unfortunately and surprisingly, Google doesn't make it easy to search by the photographer and location tags attached to each image, and there's no way to get to a complete set of related photos. Best thing to do is to click on Miss Houston and then click on thumbnails of related photos. Where I could find them, I've linked my description (above) of photos that appeared in the story to the online image.

The story itself hints that as early as 70 years ago, the Tulsa school district was beginning to abandon basics for "progressive" fads. Which is not to say that these students were poorly educated. I suspect that, by the end of 8th grade, these students would have received as much education in the basics of math, grammar, and history as today's students get by the time they graduate.

The problem with taking a blog hiatus to focus on day job and family assignments is that it's hard to figure when it's worth breaking the hiatus to post something. News happens all the time, so if I didn't post about the Big National Story yesterday, why should I break the hiatus with today's Moderately Big Local Story.

So instead I'll break the silence with something that isn't newsworthy in the least. A while ago I asked for readers to send in documents from the pen of Tulsa perennial candidate Accountability Burns, aka A. Einstein V Belcher Burns.

One friend (I'm not sure if he wants to be identified) sent in three documents. This first one I'm publishing here is a letter from Accountability Burns to the Oklahoma County Bar Association, dated January 15, 1984. This is a fine example of Burns's use of simplified spelling, and notice that he helpfully identifies his old name c. 1975 at the end.

dayt = Sun., 1-15-84, 1:20Am-Mun.

Accountability Burns (E5)
1119 S. Rockford, #3
Tulsa OK 74120
1918-5997785
Cranston-for-Pres.

- too = OklaCtyBarAsso
311N.Harvey
OC 7/'3102

in ray: Bil, Lahwuhyr Refurl Serv.-Statemt 10-11-83 = 315.00
case = False Arrest, J.LsePortis-atty, Sep.16,1983

kahpee = Fred Nelson, atty-Ams.Cos. &: defunkt MentorCorp.-bush
BOK Tower
74103

This iz belaytd check, pay OCBA. foh fyndn J .LeePortis, az
Speshlist in Const.Law-CR-FawlssUhrest, 1973 kayes, fyld in
OCDC, ginst 3 defs = bush-Mentor-BOK-AmsCos., OC pigs dept,
VAH-OC.

Awlzoh enclsd iz $50 check foh Portis, too pay foh LeeglConsult,
hr awn fahnix, Tulsa-OK, too diskuss kayes, downpaymt awn ackshn
too kumbyn kayes with uthr in USSCt, fum OkSCt (Burns v. Slater-SEB, '74).

Therr wil bee sum resrch needid, too lohkayt fyl, determine
fee foh xtr uv jurisdixn or purmishn too kumbyn or syt-refer
too USSCt. Portis kan handl bohth kaysiz, 1973 ackshn fyld in '75
& 1974 ackshn fyld in 1974.

In 1983, hav bin bizzee with noo ackshunz-kays/iz, fawlss uhrest
in Aug.14, '82 by Tulsa pigs, & AGE-SAGE-WAGE & uthr discrim. by
TJC in Aug. '83, in hiring. daytn back too Dec. '68 & Jan. '69,
wen returnd too Tulsa fum Hibbing-Minn too start EinsteinU.=TSU=
TJC=UCAT. Awlzoh, had misteeryus foot infexn, layd up sevrl wks.
Kayes iz in poltix, now, soh that accnts foh mutch delay too.

Demandid fum bush-Mentor-BOK-Wms.Cos. & OC pigs & VAH-OC =
$3.000.000.00, foh tortchr, intents payn, anguish, lawst inkm-jahbs.
Must hohld awf awn estimut uv demand in Burns V. Slater, too rush this.
-E5 (1975 = Gene Crandall Burns)

Some local pride in the international press:

The Daily Mail (London) has a feature story with photos of Jennie Cluck's beautifully restored 1955 home in Tulsa's Wedgwood neighborhood. There's an open house today (Saturday, June 2, 2012) from 10 am to 3 pm, hosted by Modern Tulsa, a program of the Tulsa Foundation for Architecture. The Daily Mail story mentions that the house is featured in the new book Atomic Ranch: Midcentury Interiors. From the Modern Tulsa blog:

According to the Parade of Homes guide from 1956, "The Citation," built by Lloyd Creekmore, has a combination kitchen, utility, dining room, and family room that "is sure to be the cynosure of discriminating eyes." One bathroom has a translucent plastic ceiling, square tub, and a unique divider between the double sinks and commode. The extra large master bedroom has a built-in television set. The living room has slanted and beamed ceilings, ribbon strip mahogany paneling, and a corner fireplace with a built-in barbecue rotator.

Tulsa is also featured in a "He Said/She Said" article on National Geographic's Intelligent Travel site, in which native Tulsans Denver Nicks and Andrea Leitch describe their favorite places. I learned about a few places previously unknown to me (e.g., Buffalo's BBQ in Sperry) and was reminded of some great things about Tulsa I haven't experienced for a while. If you ever need to explain to a friend from elsewhere what you love about our city, this article would be a great conversation starter.

(In case you're wondering -- the picture of Weber's in that article is not the Tulsa Weber's. It's in Pennsauken, New Jersey, one of a few surviving outlets of a chain. This 2001 article about the New Jersey Weber's Drive-Ins notes that New Jersey no longer licenses drive-in eateries.)

From the grooveyard of forgotten favorites, here's a song from the summer of 2003 and the run-up to the Vision 2025 sales tax vote, a parody of "All That Jazz," written and sung by then-KFAQ morning show sidekick Gwen Freeman, with patter from morning show host Michael DelGiorno. I came across it tonight while looking for something else, but it was a timely find; since an entirely new set of Tulsa County Commissioners is talking about increasing or extending the Vision 2025 sales tax, even though the original tax still has four more years to run. Click the picture to listen.

"Feasibility, schmeasibility! We don't need no stinkin' study!"

Received this in email and thought it might be of interest to BatesLine readers who are interested in historic preservation and local history. The sale runs three of the next four weekends, 10 am to 4 pm.

Reclamation Station LLC 412 So. Frankfort, Tulsa, OK Pam Curtis, proprietor

YEARS OF FINDING, GATHERING, SAVING AND STORING WONDERFUL ARCHITECTURAL SALVAGE AND ECLECTIC ANTIQUES.

Now it's time to sell it all.

Lost my lease at 412 South Frankfort, in downtown Tulsa. All materials must be sold.

Includes: pedestal sinks, spectacular peg-leg porcelain sinks, drain board kitchen sinks, pink toilet and sink, oak hardwood flooring, great set of carriage garage doors, wood windows, Mexican Saltillo floor tiles, vintage gas cook stoves (O'Keefe & Merritt, Roper, etc.), completely reworked Chambers gas stove, small amount of iron porch railing, original and historic terra cotta decorative tiles from the Mayo Building (own a piece of Tulsa's history!), interior doors, heavy duty steel warehouse shelving system, wooden jewelry display cases, hydraulic door closers (Mayo building), various architectural items from homes in Tracy Park, Maple Ridge, Swan Lake, Yorktown and other Tulsa neighborhoods like light fixtures, porch flooring, window stops, etc. Also, an electric forklift!! Many other items, too numerous to mention! Loads of items from estates which will make great upcycle items for you creative and adventurous types.

May 26 & 27 10:00-4:00 June 2 & 3 10:00-4:00 June 15 &16 10:00-4:00

********* CASH ONLY ********

Researching a longer article, which won't get done tonight, I came across some items about Tulsa perennial candidate Accountability Burns, aka Gene Burns, aka Boss Einstein-Burns!, aka Boss Man Einstein. So here's a bit of pure weblogging to capture locations of materials about Accountability Burns.

• 1978 MARS-gram from Accountability Burns with his platform for mayor of Tulsa
• 1984 campaign ad for Accountability Burns for County Commissioner
• Accountability Burns 1998 filling to run for Tulsa police and fire commissioner
• Boss Einstein-Burns appears before the City of Tulsa Board of Adjustment to oppose Hillcrest Medical Center expansion
• Boss Einstein's Fishy-Eyed Press Review, mailed on December 1, 1993, to Harold Weisberg, part of the Harold Weisberg archive of FOIA documents. This is a prime example of Burns's work.
• Accountability Burns's 1994 federal lawsuit against the CIA
• Einstein-Burns v. Gober, 1997 federal appeal
• Boss Man Einstein's 1998 federal lawsuit against the downtown YMCA
• Accountability Burns's 1998 lawsuit against the Veterans Administration
• Accountability Burns 2006 filing to run for Tulsa mayor

If you have stories about Accountability Burns or some of his writings, send them along and I'll post them here.

Legendary Tulsa TV weatherman Don Woods is "gravely ill", but "in good spirits" according to a report on KTUL.com:

Don is now 84 years old. He spoke with Channel 8 News Director Carlton Houston Tuesday and says he's been in good spirits recently and enjoying the company of family and friends.

Don Woods was the meteorologist for KTUL channel 8 from its first sign-on in 1954 until his retirement in 1989, and every weathercast featured an impromptu cartoon of a character named Gusty illustrating the forecast. The cartoon would go to a lucky viewer whose name was announced on the air. Our wild weather is an inherently interesting topic, but Don Woods' lighthearted and friendly manner made it fun to hear about cold fronts and high pressure cells as he sketched them on the US map. I imagine I wasn't the only Tulsa kid inspired to ask for a home weather kit for Christmas by Don Woods and his KOTV contemporary Lee Woodward. It was a golden age for local TV, a time of homegrown creativity, replaced too soon by cookie-cutter consultant-driven content.

Woods often made appearances at churches and schools; I remember him doing a presentation at our little church sometime in the '70s, and everyone left with an original Gusty sketch. Since his retirement, Don has often appeared at the Tulsa State Fair and trade shows on behalf of a local company, drawing Gusty and visiting with the fans who grew up watching him. In 2005, Gusty was designated as the official cartoon of the State of Oklahoma.

As concerned as he was about today's weather, Don Woods's greater concern for his audience is epitomized in the title of a little booklet featuring Gusty as its main character: "Do You Know How to Have a Happy Forever?" You can read the booklet online (in English, French, Spanish, and Russian), download a printable digital copy, or order copies in bulk to give away.

It was touching that the KTUL.com story made special mention of the booklet and provided a direct link.

Don wants everyone to know that Gusty -- who is now the official state cartoon of Oklahoma -- is still uplifting people and making them happy to this day.

Don is also well known for a little orange booklet. It's called, "Do you know how to have a happy forever?"

It features Gusty's message that God loves you. Over the years, Don has passed out thousands of these books around the world.

You can find information about the book at his website, www.gusty.us/books.htm. There, you can also leave a note of encouragement for Don.

You can also leave a message for Don in the comments on the KTUL.com story, and they'll be passed along to him.

Please join me in praying for Don Woods's health, and take a moment to leave a happy memory and a kind word for him.

MORE: Tulsa TV Memories has more on the history of TV weather in Tulsa, with an eight-minute TCC video of Don Woods reminiscing about his years covering weather on TV. I especially enjoyed hearing about the origins of Tulsa's first TV weather radar and the filming of the legendary "The News Guys" western-style promo.

A bit busy tonight, so here's Tulsa music legend Rocky Frisco performing an original song, "The Blues for You," at the Church Studio. It's an excerpt from the movie Red Dirt on 66.

And here's Rocky under his original stage name, Rocky Curtiss, from 1955, with his band the Harmony Flames, performing "Teenager in Love."

An instrumental from the same album, "Big Teddy":

Via TulsaGal, we learn of a cool new way to use modern technology to explore local history.

In my Government 2.0 feature story for This Land, I mentioned last October's Tulsa Hackathon, in which teams of beer-and-pizza-fueled developers created mobile applications for local agencies and non-profits.

One of the apps born at that time has now been officially released by the Tulsa City-County Library and is available in Apple's App store. It's called "Tulsa Then and Now: Mapping the BFC." From the description:

The Tulsa City-County Library's "Tulsa Then and Now: Mapping the BFC" app provides access to approximately 300 photographs selected from the Beryl Ford Collection. It includes streets, buildings, and residences. Browse, search, and view these historic images that document growth and change in Tulsa. The photographs have been mapped to allow for location-based browsing and to enable you to find images nearby your current location.

When you find a remarkable image from decades ago, share it via email, Twitter, or Facebook. Snap your own photo of present-day Tulsa and send it side-by-side with the historic image, creating your own custom Beryl-O-Gram. You can even use your iPhone's camera to overlay the historic photograph with your current view.

Features:

· Access hundreds of historic images
· See a map with drop pins that represent the photos
· Search for a photo or location
· Browse photos taken nearby your current location
· Share images through email
· Share images on Twitter
· Share images on Facebook

I don't have an iPhone, so I can't try this out myself, but I hope my iPhone-equipped readers will give it a try and send me the Beryl-O-Grams you create.

MORE:

There's another Tulsa Hackathon just around the corner, April 13-15, 2012, with a focus on providing convenient access to open data.

You can browse the Tulsa Library's digital collections online, including photos and items from the Beryl Ford Collection.

Many photos from the Beryl Ford Collection have been posted to Flickr in search of help in identifying unknown people and places.

Some years ago, I suggested that the Tulsa Library or Tulsa Historical Society put the Beryl Ford Collection on Flickr as a way to make the photos easier to tag and to make it easy to collect comments and annotations that would add context to the pictures. Several world-renowned archives, including the Library of Congress, began doing just that, as part of the Flickr Commons project.

Now Tulsa Library has followed suit, posting over 1000 photos of unknown people and over 250 photos of unknown places on their Flickr account, and asking Tulsans and others to look through them and see if the photos jog any memories.

There are many fascinating photos, some intriguing, some laugh-out-loud funny. Many of the photos appear to be taken in and around the American Legion hall. There are some wedding pictures, pictures of manufacturing companies, photos of pro wrestlers, golfers, hockey players, and bathing beauties, photos of new houses, remnants of TV advertising.

The photos were uploaded in full resolution, so you can zoom into the tiniest detail, and there you may find the clue that solves the mystery.

Here are a few favorites: Here's a steel guitar class for children. The little lady on the left end of the top row is barely bigger than her instrument, but she seems quite pleased about things.

And this photo seems to be from the same place on the same day -- it's Johnnie Lee Wills and Leon McAuliffe with a bunch of kids, one of whom has a book of music by Hawaiian steel guitarist Eddie Alkire:

I give this one the title, "You're next, tuna breath!"

MORE: Here's the description of the project from the Tulsa Library's blog:

TCCL now has a Flickr collection with sets for events, library locations, and special collections. Three sets in the special collections are devoted to the digital collections: local history, unknown people, and unknown places. Right now, local history is a small set featuring select images from the digital collections. The unknown people and unknown places sets consist of images from the collections that have little information. The Beryl Ford Collection, in particular, has thousands of images with little or no information. Resources to provide detailed descriptions and historical context for the many thousands of items in the digital collections are limited. With Flickr, we want to encourage user participation in the identification of the images and to make our resources more available, discoverable, and useful. We hope that both known and unknown audiences will want to comment, share, and engage in community conversations about our shared history. As an ongoing project, we will continue to add to the images that have been uploaded there. We invite you to take a look, let us know if you can identify any of the photos, and come back regularly to see additions.

As a point of comparison, Tulsa Transit bus service doesn't run evenings (except for a few special night lines), and typical headways are 30 minutes or longer between buses.

DO YOU KNOW
THAT
STREET CAR SERVICE
STARTS

On the Kendall-West Fifth car line at 5:00 a.m. and after 6:44 a. m. a car each way every eight minutes.

On the Main street line at 5:20 a.m. and after 6:00 a.m. every seven and one-half minutes.

On the Bellview-Owen Park line at 5:15 a.m. and after 6:00 a.m. a car each way every 10 minutes.

On the North Peoria-South Frisco line at 5:10 a.m. and a car every fifteen minutes except during the afternoon rush hours, a car every ten minutes.

Tulsa Street Railway Company

Oklahoma
Union Railway Company

Interurban cars leave Tulsa every hour on the hour from 6 a. m. to 12 o'clock midnight for Sapulpa and every hour on the half hour from 6:30 a. m. to 11:30 p. m. for Red Fork.

Interurban cars to Sapulpa carry baggage and express.

Package freight car leaves First and Guthrie streets 8:45 a. m. and 2:45 p. m., daily except Sunday.

(From p. 12, Monday, May 15, 1922, Tulsa Daily World, Weekly Business Review, a weekly page of small ads from local businesses, ads for two of Tulsa's three streetcar companies, the strictly local Tulsa Street Railway and the interurban Oklahoma Union Railway, which connected Tulsa, West Tulsa, Red Fork, and Sapulpa, as well as providing local service in Tulsa and Sapulpa. The third company, Charles Page's Sand Springs Railway, connected downtown Sand Springs with Archer Street in downtown Tulsa. A half-page ad in the Sunday, October 16, 1921, Tulsa Daily World, says that the TSR runs from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m.)

Jack Frank, maker of many wonderful films about Tulsa history, has posted home movie footage of a Christmas parade in downtown Tulsa, from sometime in the late 1940s. The vantage point is on the east side of Main Street, a hundred feet or so south of 6th Street, looking west across Main Street and northwest beyond 6th on Main. The only nearby building still standing is the former HQ of Public Service Company of Oklahoma on the southwest corner of 6th and Main.

The floats are elaborate, appear to be depictions of nursery rhymes, but there are no signs to indicate who the sponsors were.

Someone who knows vehicles might be able to pinpoint the date more precisely. The three long words identifying the business on the northwest corner of 6th and Main (where Dalessandros once was located) might be a clue as well.

One of the fun things about blogging for over eight years is when someone posts a comment or sends an email about a long-ago blog entry. Someone is searching on the web for information, perhaps about family or friends, and finds one of my entries, then writes a note to fill in more details, often with a touching personal story.

Yesterday, Brenda Terry posted a comment on my entry on the 90th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Riot, in which I talked about Greenwood after the riot -- its rebuilding and flourishing, followed by its second demolition in the name of urban renewal. She offered her own recollections and those of her mother. Brenda is the daughter of blues great Flash Terry; Rocky Frisco recalls sitting in with Flash's band on Greenwood back in 1957, one of the anecdotes I cited in my talk about Greenwood's post-riot rebirth.

Thanks Mike for the information posted on this site regarding Greenwood's Post Riot history.

I am actually the oldest daughter of Flash Terry, you mentioned him briefly in your presentation. Recently my mother spoke about musicians who visited our house in the late 1950's before they were famous (i.e. Curtis Mayfield, Bobby Blues Bland, but that's another story).

My mother grew up on North Owasso, west of Peoria during the late 40's after her mother died. Her mother, before she died in 1940, lived directly across the street from the Mt. Rose Baptist Church on Lansing. She speaks fondly of those days, and of Greenwood. Actually everyone you speak with about Greenwood who is old enough to remember the 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's and 60's in those days, speak with a hint of pride in their eyes, and a longing for the unity and pride they experience is visible in their voices. One of the memories I have as a very small child in the late 50's, is of my aunt who lived in one of the rooming houses on Deep Greenwood (looks like one of the homes in the photos posted). She worked as a dispatcher for a taxi company. Even now I can remember how bustling and alive the area was back then. When I think of the history plowed down in the name of progress, my heart sinks. The neighborhoods were a testimony for strong and determined people, who in some cases, had fought their way up from the bonds of slavery. During Urban Renewal development, my great-grandmother's home (where I was born),and rental property were destroyed.

Years later, Dunbar Elementary School where both my mother and her children attended, destroyed. I am ashamed that every residence who had history in not only Greenwood, but North Lansing, Owasso, and other streets now under I75, did not make their voices heard, and more importantly make themselves understood. I was a teenager at the time with no interest in history, but since I began researching my family history, I have learned that to know our history is to understand ourselves. Without this knowledge we have no foundation and lack direction.

Thanks again and with deep regards, Brenda.

Tulsa Metropolitan Area Planning Commission (TMAPC) chairman Bill Leighty came across a wonderful documentary short subject about Tulsa. The 15 minute film was part of the Cities in America series, produced by the United States Information Service, the Cold War-era organization that used a variety of media to promote a positive image for America overseas.

The film tells the story of Sam Carson, a long-time Tulsan who had watched the city develop from its early days, his son Henry and daughter-in-law Ellen, and his grandchildren, Tom, Eddie and Janet. I'm curious to look them up in the Polk directory.

The film shows downtown Tulsa in its post-World War II heyday, with scenes on Boston and Boulder Avenues, a brief shot of kids emerging from a Saturday matinee at the Delman Theater. If you look closely and quickly, you'll spot the Beacon Building when it still had a beacon on top, 320 Boston when it was the National Bank of Tulsa. The University of Tulsa dominates one section of the film, and you get brief glimpses of the American Airlines maintenance facility and the lovely Art Deco municipal airport terminal.

At some point, I hope to give this little film the full James Lileks treatment, a lengthy blog post with still shots and details about each. I'm intrigued by one brief scene about 5 minutes in, showing a modern looking Oklahoma Tire & Supply store (you may have known it as OTASCO), with Vandevers in the background. The next scene shows a modern facade on a dress shop called Dorothy's. It ought to be possible to date the film by some of the features. Near the end of the film, it's mentioned that the Arkansas River has not yet been dammed. There are brief shots of a school, a library, and a park.

For now, enjoy, and tell us if you spot anything or anyone you recognize.

MORE: Architect and Tulsa history lover Paul Uttinger has written a scene-by-scene commentary, identifying locations in the film, and he thinks he's pinpointed the date:

1. On the map of Tulsa (time mark 1:05), West Tulsa and Garden City are shown east of the river. East Tulsa is shown north of the CBD. Trovillion is shown to the southeast of the CBD. I've read that Alsuma was re-named Trovillion for a short time. Howard is shown east of downtown Tulsa, about halfway between Trovillion and Dawson. I've never heard of a place called Howard there.

2. (1:44) Outside the Delman Theatre, Sam Carson waits for his grandchildren. He looks at the placard for The Last Round-up, starring Gene Autry. A poster for The Kissing Bandit, starring Frank Sinatra, is displayed in the window behind the placard.

3. (2:05) Sam, Janet, and Eddie walk north toward 3rd Street on Boulder Avenue in front of the World and Tribune building. The bottom of the Skelly Building sign is visible behind them. On the west side of Boulder, we can see the Citizens State Bank ( http://www.tulsalibrary.org/JPG/B1911.jpg ) and the Beacon Building at 4th, part of the Petroleum Building and the Halliburton-Abbott Building (with the Sears store sign) at 5th, the corner of the Medical Arts Building at 6th, and a spire of Holy Family Cathedral at 8th. There's two-way vehicular traffic on Boulder.

4. (2:15) The Carsons walk west on 4th, heading toward Boston Ave. Two-way traffic on 4th.

5. (2:21) The three have turned south on Boston. They're on the sidewalk next to what was originally known as the Cosden Building, which is now the old portion of the Mid-Contintent Tower.

6. (2:34) They're still walking south on the east side of Boston, but suddenly they are north of 4th Street again!

7. (2:44) Eddie and Janet wave to a policeman from the northeast corner of 4th & Boston. The policeman appears to be standing next to the Pioneer Building, but I don't see the Bell System "Public Telephones" sign that was displayed on that corner ( http://www.tulsalibrary.org/JPG/B9978.jpg ).

8. (2:55) The Carsons look at an oil boom display in a Philtower Philcade window. (CORRECTION from Paul Uttinger: "They are south of 5th, so it's not the Philtower, as I said in a previous email. It's probably the Philcade, around 511 S. Boston. The construction sign for the First National Building is across the street in the same scene, so that definitely dates the film prior to July 1950, when the tower was slated to open for business.")

9. (4:49) Looking south on Boston from the Katy tracks. The First National Bank Building appears to be under construction, with a crane leaning out over Boston near 5th Street.

10. (4:53) Looking northwest at 4th & Main (Arby's is there now).

11. (4:55) Northeast corner of 4th & Main (Ken Brune's Reunion Center Bldg now).

12. (4:58) 5th & Boston, looking east. We can see the corner of the Philcade Building and the sign for the D-X service station at 502 S. Cincinnati ( http://www.tulsalibrary.org/JPG/D4283.jpg ).

13. (5:16) A brief moment of racial integration. West side of Main, 300 block, looking north. The pedestrians are on the sidewalk next to the Froug Department Store and Kinney Shoes (World Publishing's big and brutal facade is there now). The bottom of the Holly Store sign is in the background at the beginning of the scene. There's a warped reflection of the Globe Clothiers sign, which projected from their store building at 217 S. Main. There's a reflected "NS," which could be part of the signage at Stein's, which was on the southeast corner of 2nd & Main. The 3-story building which stood on the northeast corner of 3rd & Main is reflected in the shop fronts, too.

14. (5:24) Looking northwest near 6th & Boston. The Vandever building spans over the alley between Main and Boston, and an old Vandever's sign is still faintly visible from 6th Street today. The view of the sign we see in the short film has been blocked by the Enterprise Building since around 1954. In the film, Burt's Malt-A Plenty Ice Cream store is on the corner where the Enterprise Bldg is now, just north across 6th St from the Oklahoma Tire Supply building.

15. (5:27) Another moment of racial integration on a public sidewalk? Dorothy's was a clothing store for women, but in those days, men went there for a particular pre-Christmas event:

Recently, men have been returning to "occupy" that location once again.

16. (5:31) Back to the World and Tribune building on Boulder, between 3rd and 4th.

17. (5:34) Renberg's and Clarke's on the east side of Main, 300 block. I noticed that Renberg's changed their logo in the 1948 Polk directory to the lowercase type face we see in the short film and on the facade of the building today. The last time I peeked inside a few years ago, Renberg's former ground level sales floor had been converted to a parking garage.

18. (5:40) Looking south at the Boston Avenue Methodist Church tower from 12th Street. The Fred Jones Ford dealership is on the southeast corner ( http://www.tulsalibrary.org/JPG/D4611.jpg ). Wat Henry Pontiac is on the southwest corner ( http://www.tulsalibrary.org/JPG/C1589.jpg ).

19. (7:08) The exterior of the "Carson" residence at 1735 S. Detroit Ave. In the 1946, 1950, and 1955 Polk directories, James Forster is listed at that address.

20. (7:14) Part of the house at 1725 S. Detroit is visible as Tom Carson leaves home to catch a bus to TU.

21. (7:19) Tom hails the "N. Denver" bus at 18th & Detroit. The bungalow at 302 E. 18th is visible in the background. The bus is heading west on 18th (7:29). (CORRECTED bus direction from "S. Denver")

22. (12:37) Looks similar to a few of the tanks near 21st & 33rd W Aveune ( http://tinyurl.com/TulsaTanks ).

23. (13:53) A partial view of the old Art Deco style Municipal Airport building.

24. (14:21) Looking southwest at 6th & Main.

25. (14:29) Old Public Library building at 3rd & Cheyenne. A bit of the the Mid-Co Bldg is visible in the background.

26. (14:37) 12th between Columbia Place and Delaware Avenue, looking northwest ( http://tinyurl.com/WilsonMS ).

27. (15:04) Henry Carson smoking somewhere northeast of the CBD. The final skyline view might have been shot from the top of the hill near North Elgin and Independence, judging from the perspective.

My best guess is that most or all of the local filming was done during the warmer months of 1949, based on the clothing worn by pedestrians and TU students, the lush foliage, the release date for The Kissing Bandit, and in-progress construction photos of the First National Bank and Trust building in the Beryl Ford Collection.

UPDATE: Paul sends along another confirmation of the 1949 date:

Another movie poster displayed at the Delman. I think it's for The Younger Brothers, which was released on May 3, 1949, according to Internet Movie Database. I can't see much of the Delman's poster, but the Technicolor film starred Bruce Bennett, Geraldine Brooks, and Robert Hutton, which all seems to jibe with what I can make out when Grandpa Carson and the kids leave the theatre.

A peek through the movie ads in the newspaper microfiche for May '49 might nail it down.

He also sends a link to a sharper version of the Tulsa film found on YouTube:

YouTube user Ella73TV2 has posted hundreds of public-domain historical documentaries of this sort.

This is encouraging news: In a few weeks, as soon as PSO puts the necessary electrical hookups in place, the Bell family of Bell's Amusement Park will be operating a few of their kiddie rides at the Saturday Flea Market in west Tulsa. The rides will be open on Saturdays during the flea market's weekly session.

Saturday Flea Market is at 5802 W. 51st Street S., just about a mile west of the southwest junction of I-44 and I-244. They boast 100 vendors in two climate-controlled buildings and outdoors. It's just east of JRP Speedway.

It's a humble re-beginning, but it echoes the way Bell's Amusement Park began in 1951 with a half-dozen small rides at the County Fairgrounds. It wasn't until 1969 that Zingo, the wooden roller coaster, began operation, and many of the park's other major attractions -- the Phantasmagoria dark ride, Himalaya, White Lightning log flume -- came into being over the course of the 1970s.

It also reminds me of the way the Snyder family brought back the Mayo Hotel: First converting the basement into paid parking, then converting the lobby and mezzanine as an event space, then leasing the storefronts, with each stage providing revenue for the next stage of renovation.

The location is just a couple of miles from the site of the long-vanished Crystal City Amusement Park, on Southwest Blvd between 41st Street and 33rd West Avenue. The site is now occupied by the Crystal City Shopping Center (whose name was the nemesis of radio announcers). Crystal City was home to a roller coaster named Zingo, which became the namesake for the wooden coaster at Bell's decades later. The 1939 Sanborn map shows Zingo ("scenic railway") hugging the highway, a stream flowing through the property (with a monkey island in the middle of it), a massive dance hall, a giant pool with a large bath house, "amusement houses", Dodgem (bumper cars), a ride called "Bug," a few smaller rides, an octagonal refreshment building, ticket offices, and something called Hiram's Barn. TulsaGal has photos of Crystal City Amusement Park from the late 1920s that show many of these features.

(Click the picture to open a very large version of the map in a popup window.)

This north-up map provides some context, showing the park in relation to 33rd West Ave., 41st Street, Sapulpa Road (now Southwest Blvd), and the Frisco (now BNSF) tracks.

According to the County Assessor's records (parcel 31125-92-27-17380), the Crystal City Shopping Center was built in 1954 and sits on 442,060 sq. ft. of land, a bit more than 10 acres, about the same size as Bell's footprint at the Tulsa County Fairgrounds. Comparing the Sanborn map (Volume 3, Map 501) to the assessor's map, it appears that the highway department routed I-244 around the shopping center, taking homes to the east and moving the Tulsa-Sapulpa Union tracks further east as well. The site of the old amusement park is fully intact.

If I may dream a bit: Wouldn't it be cool to restore Crystal City on Historic Route 66 as an amusement park, right next to a restored Red Fork Main Street? Wouldn't it be cool to run an electric streetcar between Crystal City and the new Route 66 Village? The shopping center has seen better days, there are a whole bunch of rides that need a new home, the site has good visibility from the freeway, and it would give Route 66 travelers even more reason to follow the old alignment through Tulsa.

I came across some research, based on the 2000 U. S. Census, calculating various indicators of racial integration in the nation's 100 most populous metropolitan areas. It points to an impressive degree of progress over the last half century in Tulsa.

Racial Integration in Urban America: A Block Level Analysis of African American and White Housing Patterns

According to that paper, 16.3% of the City of Tulsa's population and 9.4% of the Tulsa Metropolitan Statistical Area (MSA) was African-American in 2000.

The researchers analyzed the racial composition of each census block, sorting them into four categories:

• >= 20% Black and >= 20% White (the authors of the study term these "black-white integrated blocks")
• < 20% Black and > 50% White
• > 80% Black
• Other Mixture

A census block is the smallest unit of census statistics. Streets, creeks, railroads, section lines, city limits all serve as census block boundaries. For example, a city block split in two by a railroad track would result in two census blocks.

In the Tulsa MSA, there were 75,471 African-Americans in the 2000 Census. 28.0% lived on blocks where the population was at least 20% black and at least 20% white. 28.7% lived on blocks where the population was less than 20% black and at least 50% white, 36.0% lived on blocks where the population was at least 80% black, and 7.4% on blocks with some other racial mixture.

Put another way, in 2000 64% of African-Americans in the Tulsa metro area lived on racially diverse blocks. In 1960 that number was below 10%. While there is a concentrated area of black population in north Tulsa, two-thirds of Tulsa's black population is scattered across the map.

I don't have census block data on population by race in 1960, but I do have that data by census tract -- areas of a few dozen blocks, often about a 1/2 square mile in area. In 1960, blacks were 8.7% of the City of Tulsa's population. In 1960, 91.6% of Tulsa's blacks lived in six census tracts -- 2, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 11 -- about 4 sq. mi. area bounded roughly by Cincinnati Ave on the west, Mohawk Blvd on the north, the Santa Fe tracks on the east. Outside of the City of Tulsa, the only significant clusters of blacks in Tulsa County in descending order, were the rural part of tract 2 (bounded by Mohawk Blvd, Yale, Peoria, Apache and 36th St. N), the city of Sand Springs, tract 67 (likely that most were in the South Haven subdivision near 51st St and 33rd West Ave), tract 76 (likely around Rentie's Grove), and tract 90 (likely in and around Alsuma)

So we've gone from over 90% of blacks living in a small part of the city in 1960 to living all over the metro area -- 64% outside of predominantly black areas -- in 2000. That seems like progress to me, but the authors of the research don't rank Tulsa as significantly integrated (see their maps of Tulsa) because there are so few blocks on which the population is at least 20% black and at least 20% white. In a city where the overall black population is less than 20%, that doesn't seem like a good measurement of integration.

Of course, geographical integration isn't necessarily a good measure of social integration either, as we tend to connect with people we know from church, school, and work and may not spend much time with our own neighbors.

Here are a couple of maps from the 1960 census reports, showing tracts in and round the City of Tulsa and for the rest of Tulsa County. I've superimposed pairs of numbers on some of the tracts. The first number is the number of blacks, the second is the total population of the tract. Red numbers are inside the city limits; blue numbers are outside. Click the pictures to view full size:

I'm working on analyzing the C-1 forms submitted by candidates for Tulsa City Council. In the process of locating real residential addresses for donors who insist on listing their business addresses, I needed to look at Osage County land records, and while I was there, on a whim I searched for "WILLS JAMES" as in James Robert aka Jim Rob aka Bob Wills. Wills owned a ranch described as "north of Tulsa" where he and his extended family lived. I'd always wondered exactly where it was.

His dream was to retire there with his whole band, but World War II intervened, the band went their separate ways, and he went to California, returning to Tulsa for a few years in the late '50s before heading to Texas for the rest of his career. His final resting place is in Memorial Park Cemetery here in Tulsa.

Lo and behold, I found this: A journal entry dated 2010/08/17, the result of a quiet title lawsuit in Osage County, CV-2001-403. The Grantor list has 32 names and appears to include Bob Wills, his parents, all of his brothers and sisters, one of his ex-wives (the former Mary Lou Parker of Pawhuska), and a number of nieces and nephews.

WILLS, J T
WILLS, EMMIE LEE
WILLS, BOB
SULLIVAN, RUBY WILLS
SULLIVAN, ROBERT LEE
HOUSE, ELOISE WILLS
WILLS, JOHNNIE LEE
MCKEE, HELEN WILLS
MCKEE, JIM ROB
KERR, OLGA LOUISE WILLS
WILLS, LUTHER
WILLS, JOHN DAVID
WILLS, BILLY JACK
WILLS, JOHN DEWEY
WILLS, DOROTHY
MCKEE, JIM ROB JR
OMSTEAD, KAREN L KERR
WILLS, JAMES R II
WILLS, JOHN D
LARIOS, KASEY LEE WILLS
TAYLOR, BOBBIE NELL SULLIVAN
WILLS, LORENE M
CLOUD, MARY LOU PARKER WILLS
MORROW, DELTA SUE HOUSE
STOUT, LERLENE HOUSE
COPPEANS, MILLICENT ANN WILLS
WILLS, JOHNT T
KELLEY, DAYNA MCKEE
SUITOR, SHYRL ANN KERR FIDDNER
BOUCHARD, JOYCE LEE WILLS
WILLS, LUTHER JAY JR
WILLS, BILLIE JACQULYN

Grantee is Presley Ford, Jr. An obituary reports that he died on January 15, 2002, at the age of 86.

On the court docket, the list of summonses appears to include all of Bob's living relatives as of 2001 and is followed by a long list of "entry of appearance and disclaimer of interest" notations in 2002. Then eight years intervene until the plaintiff moves to substitute the Osage Nation as plaintiff, and in two months, the title is quieted.

Here are the specifics from the county clerk record.

Legal description:

S15 T20N R12E NE NE
S14 T20N R12E NW NW L1
S14 T20N R12E SW NW L2
S14 T20N R12E NW SW L3 Partial
S15 T20N R12E SE Partial

Instrument number: I-2010-005504
Book 001428
Pages 0181 to 0187

Mapping the location seems simple, but it appears that the township/range/section system for Osage County is skewed with respect to the rest of the state. The property appears to be north of the Osage Million Dollar Elm Tulsa casino and northeast of the old Downtown Airpark, but you'd need to see the full legal description in the lawsuit and an official plat map to know for sure. I don't have time to translate legalese, but there may be some relationship to the casino parcel, which was finally taken into trust in July 2011. (It had been thought that any land within the former Osage Reservation could be used for a tribal casino, but federal courts ruled that it's not a federally recognized reservation, so the land would have to be placed into trust.)

There's more research to be done. I imagine that the parcel settled by the quiet title suit may have only been a portion of Bob Wills's ranch. I'm curious to know what legal mishap left title to the land in question. I may need to mosey up to Pawhuska some day soon.

UPDATED link 2021/02/03 to reflect the move of Osage County court records from ODCR to OSCN.

I'd like to give the cover story in the new issue of This Land the attention it deserves, but at the moment I'm overwhelmed by a backlog of entries in progress about the Tulsa City Council primary, now just eight days away, so we'll make do for now with links:

Lee Roy Chapman has written a detailed, well-researched historical essay on the links between Tulsa founding father Tate Brady, the Ku Klux Klan, a vigilante attack on IWW members (and the daily newspaper that supported it), and the city's attempt to dispossess the black Tulsans whose homes and businesses had been burned and looted in the attack on Greenwood (the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot).

Sidebars to the story: Steve Gerkin's history of Beno Hall, Tulsa's Klan HQ on north Main St., and a transcript and audio re-enactment of Tate Brady's testimony to the tribunal investigating Klan activity in Tulsa.

Fox 23 spoke to Tulsans about changing place names that honor Brady, including the Brady Heights historic neighborhood, Brady Street, and the Brady Arts District. I'm inclined to agree with 94-year-old race riot survivor Wess Young:

He doesn't want the neighborhood's name to change. "That's history, why would you try and change what has gone one and not show what progress you have made," he told FOX23. He says he doesn't live in Tate Brady's neighborhood, he lives in his neighborhood. No matter what name it has. "It doesn't bother me because I have the privilege to live where I can afford."

My thinking -- keep Brady Street and Brady Heights as a humbling reminder that men like Brady were a part of Tulsa's past, but pick a better name to market the area north of the tracks downtown. I like Lee Roy Chapman's suggestion: Call it the Bob Wills District.

I've recently come across several Facebook pages designed for reminiscing about location-specific childhood memories, and since I started this post several more have sprung up.

I've signed up for "You grew up in Catoosa if you remember.....". I never lived in the City of Catoosa, but Catoosa was more than just its corporate boundaries. Catoosa schools were the focal point of the community, and the district covers Rolling Hills (unincorporated territory back in the '70s), the little community four miles east on old 33 near Nuckolls Store, Ponderosa Estates, and several trailer parks. Rolling Hills Shopping Center and the surrounding neighborhood and the rural area between Catoosa and "Tulsa Proper" were within Tulsa's city limits after 1966, but there was still a connection with Catoosa.

Our family moved to Rolling Hills in 1969, then moved a mile west into the City of Tulsa in 1978. I started out at Catoosa schools, my mom taught kindergarten there for 28 years, and my sister graduated from there. Our family belonged to First Baptist Church of Rolling Hills for 17 years, and Dad was a deacon for much of that time. Dad also helped found the Port of Catoosa Jaycees chapter. I remember going to the candy store across from the elementary school; Mr. Sam the principal, Mrs. Martin the school secretary, and Mr. Parham the custodian; getting Rex's Chicken at Li'l Abner's Dairyette (owned by the Yocham family -- Mrs. Yocham was my "beginners" Sunday School teacher); riding my bike to the In-N-Out at Admiral and 200th for an Icee or walking to the U-Tote-M at 193rd & 4th Street for a Coke; swimming at the Blue Whale or the Rolling Hills trailer park pool.

Another group is open only to those who grew up in north Tulsa (north of Admiral) in the '50s, '60s, and '70s. A west Tulsa Facebook group launched today.

If you lived around 31st and Yale between 1967 and 1987, you probably went to Shaw's Drive In, and there's a Facebook group for that, too.

It's been fun to see old familiar names and read about old familiar places. If you find other Facebook groups devoted to reminiscing about growing up somewhere in the Tulsa area, please leave a comment with the name of the group and a link.

MARK YOUR CALENDAR: The success of the "You grew up in Catoosa if you remember..." group has inspired the planning of a sort of reunion on Saturday, October 15, 2011.

MORE: There's now a group devoted to Nowata, my Dad's hometown.

On the night of May 31, 1921, a white mob descended upon Tulsa's African-American district, known as Greenwood after its principal avenue, looting, shooting, and firebombing into the following day. The attack killed hundreds and left thousands wounded and homeless and destroyed dozens of African-American businesses and churches.

Once hushed up, the attack known as the Tulsa Race Riot has received an increasing amount of public attention in recent decades. I have half a shelf taken up with books on the topic, and I will leave that history to others who have told it far better than I could ever hope to do.

What is often overlooked is the triumph and tragedy that followed the riot. The story of Tulsa's Greenwood District did not end in 1921, and over the last few years I've taken it upon myself to learn that story and attempt to bring it to a broader audience.

After the riot, there was an attempt by the city's white leaders to keep Greenwood from being rebuilt. The City Commission passed an ordinance extending the fire limits to include Greenwood, prohibiting frame houses from being rebuilt. The idea was to designate the district for industrial use and resettle blacks to a new place further away from downtown, outside the city limits.

African-American attorneys won an injunction against the new fire ordinance; the court decreed that it constituted a violation of the Fourth Amendment, a taking of property without due process. The injunction opened the door for Greenwood residents to rebuild.

They did it themselves, without insurance funds (most policies had a riot exclusion) or any other significant outside aid....

The Greenwood district flourished well into the 1950s. In 1938, businessmen formed the Greenwood Chamber of Commerce. A 1942 directory lists 242 businesses, including over 50 eateries, 38 grocers, a half dozen clothing stores, plus florists, physicians, attorneys, furriers, bakeries, theaters, and jewelers -- more than before the riot 21 years earlier. The 1957 city directory reveals a similar level of commercial activity in Greenwood....

The rebuilding, subsequent renaissance, and final removal of Greenwood are documented by aerial and street photos, land records, fire insurance maps, newspaper stories, street directories, and census data.

All that raw data is fleshed out in the memories of those who lived through those times. Some of those stories have been captured in books like They Came Searching by Eddie Faye Gates and Black Wall Street by Hannibal Johnson.

Here are a couple of reminiscences included by Gates in her book that clearly connect the term Black Wall Street to the post-riot, rebuilt Greenwood:

"They just were not going to be kept down. They were determined not to give up. So they rebuilt Greenwood and it was just wonderful. It became known as The Black Wall Street of America."

- Eunice Jackson

"The North Tulsa after the riot was even more impressive than before the riot. That is when Greenwood became known as 'The Black Wall Street of America.'"

- Juanita Alexander Lewis Hopkins

But then came the planners:

"Slum clearance," as a cure for Greenwood's ills, had been discussed for years, but in 1967, Tulsa was accepted into the Federal Model Cities program.

Model Cities was not just an ordinary urban renewal program. It was intended to be an improvement over the old method of bulldozing depressed neighborhoods. The Federal government provided four dollars for every dollar of local funding, and the plan involved advisory councils of local residents and attempted to address education, economic development, and health care as well as dilapidated buildings.

For all the frills, Model Cities was still primarily an urban removal program: Save the neighborhood by destroying it. Homes and businesses were cleared for the construction of I-244 and US 75 and for assemblage into larger tracts that might attract developers. Displaced blacks moved north, into neighborhoods that had been built in the '50s for working class whites.

Only the determination of a few community leaders saved a cluster of buildings in Deep Greenwood -- but these buildings are isolated from any residential area, cut off from community.

In April 1970, as Tulsa's Model Cities urban renewal program was beginning to demolish homes, Mabel Little, whose new home was burned down in the 1921 attack, told the Tulsa City Commission [from the April 11, 1970, Tulsa Tribune]:

"You destroyed everything we had. I was here in it, and the people are suffering more now than they did then."

Years later, Jobie Holderness reflected on the spiritual damage done by urban renewal:

"Urban renewal not only took away our property, but something else more important -- our black unity, our pride, our sense of achievement and history. We need to regain that. Our youth missed that and that is why they are lost today, that is why they are in 'limbo' now."

Here's my talk on this topic at Ignite Tulsa in 2009:

And here are links to previous BatesLine entries about Greenwood's renaissance:

The Greenwood Gap Theory: My June 2007 Urban Tulsa Weekly column on the popular misconception, abetted by the second destruction due to urban renewal, that Greenwood was not rebuilt after the 1921 massacre.

Notes on the sources documenting Greenwood's post-riot renaissance: My response to OSU-Tulsa history professor J. S. Maloy, who disbelieved my account of the post-massacre revival of Greenwood.

Greenwood 1957: A summary of commercial activity in Greenwood, based on the 1957 Polk street directory of Tulsa.

Greenwood's streetcar: The Sand Springs Railroad (includes photos)

The rise and fall of Greenwood (includes high res 1951 aerial photo of Deep Greenwood)

Tulsa 1957 restaurants: A KML (Google Maps) file locating restaurants listed in the 1957 street and phone directories, including many that lined Greenwood Ave.

Film of Oklahoma's 1920's black communities

Physical signs, such as the commemorative plaques along Greenwood's sidewalks and on the Greenwood Cultural Center, that document the district's reconstruction after the riot and demolition during urban renewal

Finally, here at a glance are three Sanborn maps from 1915, 1939, and 1962, showing Deep Greenwood over the decades:

Sanborn Map: Deep Greenwood in 1915

Sanborn Map: Deep Greenwood in 1939

Sanborn Map: Deep Greenwood in 1962

FOLLOW-UPS:

• Tate Brady, the Klan, and the attack on Greenwood
• Brenda Terry (Flash Terry's daughter) on Greenwood in the '40s and '50s
• Films of Greenwood post-riot and Oklahoma's African-American communities in the 1920s (the Solomon Sir Jones collection)
• Smithsonian Channel mangles Greenwood history
• Greenwood demolition in 1967 for expressway construction: "There is no Negro business district anymore"
• Greenwood Gap Theory: Tulsa's Green Book places weren't destroyed in 1921
• Segregation by Design: Greenwood and I-244: Adam Paul Susaneck's stark, graphical depiction showing the destruction wrought by the path of I-244 through Greenwood and neighboring districts, and the Guardian article on plans to remove I-244

UPDATE 2020/06/03: Since this article has become a central repository of links to my work on Greenwood, I'm updating the title, which was originally "The 1921 Tulsa Race Riot and the 90 years that followed." I've also changed the first paragraph to be less date-specific. It originally read: "Today is the 90th anniversary of a white mob's attack on Tulsa's African-American district, known as Greenwood after its principal avenue. The attack, which began the evening of May 31, 1921, killed hundreds and left thousands wounded and homeless." I also changed the phrase "over the last 30 years" to "in recent decades."

While looking for something else, I came across this, entered into the Congressional Record by Illinois Congressman Phil Crane on August 4, 1994 (p. E1664). Crane describes it as a speech Paul Harvey gave in Tulsa on April 2, 1994, but it reads more like a radio commentary reflecting on a visit to Tulsa. Harvey had returned to his hometown to speak at a benefit for the Salvation Army in March of that year.

Over my shoulder a backward glance.

The world began for Paul Harvey in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Ever since I have made tomorrow my favorite day, I've been uncomfortable looking back.

My recent revisit reminded me why. The Tulsa I knew isn't there anymore. And the memories of once-upon-a time are more bitter than sweet.

Of the lawman father I barely knew.

The widowed mother who worked too hard and died too soon. And my sister Frances.

Tulsa was three graves side-by-side.

Recently I came face-to-face with the place where a small Paul Harvey's mother buttoned his britches to his shirt to keep them up and it down.

Tulsa is a copper penny which a small boy from East Fifth Place placed on a trolley track to see it mashed flat.

It's a slingshot made from a forked branch aimed at a living bird, and the bird died, and he cried, and he is still crying.

That little lad was seven when he snapped a rubber band against the neck of the neighbor girl, and pretty Ethel Mae Hazelton ran home crying, and he, lonely, had wanted only to get her to notice him.

Somehow he blamed Tulsa for the war which took his best friend, Harold Collis...

And classmate Fred Markgraf...

And never gave them back.

In Tulsa, Oklahoma, he learned the wages of sin smoking grapevine behind the garage and getting a mouthful of ants.

Longfellow Elementary school is closed now; dark.

Tulsa High is a business building.

The old house at 1014 is in mourning for the Tulsa that isn't there anymore.

It was in that house that a well-meaning mother arranged a surprise birthday party when he was sixteen; invited his school friends, including delicate Mary Betty French without whom he was sure he could not live.

He hated that party for revealing to her and to them his house, so much more modest than theirs.

Tulsa is where the true love of his life waved goodbye to the uniform that climbed aboard a troop train.

She was there waiting when he got back but they could not wait to say goodbye to Tulsa.

Tulsa was watermelon picnics in the backyard and a small Paul blowing taps on his Boy Scout bugle over the fresh grave of a dead kitten.

Tulsa, Oklahoma, used to be the fragrance of honeysuckle on the trellis behind the porch swing.

Mowing for a quarter neighbors' lawns that seemed then so enormous.

Only Tulsa's delicious tap water is as it was.

That and the schoolteachers...

Miss Harp and Miss Smith and Isabelle Ronan. These I am assured are still there somewhere--reincarnated.

In a sleek jet departing Tulsa's vast Spartan Airport at midnight, I closed my eyes and remembered...

When Spartan was a sod strip...

And a crowd gathered...

And a great tin goose landed...

And Slim Lindbergh got out...

And a boy, age nine, was pressing against the restraining ropes daring to foretaste fame--and falling in love with the sky.

No...

The Tulsa I knew isn't there anymore. But it's all right.

A new Tulsa is.

I'll not be afraid to go home again.

I have made friends with the ghosts.

Note: I've corrected obvious misspelling and punctuation errors from the online Congressional Record (CR), and replaced the CR's use of three asterisks to indicate ellipsis with the standard three dots. The CR text mentions "Karold Collis" and "Fred Mrarkgraff." Harold Collis of Tulsa is listed in the roll of Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard dead in World War II, so I've made that correction. I couldn't find any name resembling "Fred Mrarkgraff" in either the Army or Navy lists of casualties for Oklahoma, so I've left that uncorrected.

UPDATE 2019/10/10: Further research reveals that Fred Markgraf was president of the Central High School class of 1936, and that Ethel Mae Hazelton (not "Mazelton," as the CR had it), class of 1935, lived two doors east at 1024 E. 5th Place, and went on to be named Miss Kendallabrum at the University of Tulsa in 1936.

The tracks of the Tulsa Street Railway ran east out of downtown on 3rd Street, forked north and south on Madison Avenue; the southern branch turned east on 5th Place, past Paul Harvey's house, and south on Quincy, terminating at 15th Street. In 1922, the Bellview-Owen Park line, as it was called, ran every 10 minutes from 6 am to 11 pm.

I've added senior photos from the Tulsa Central High School yearbooks of the friends mentioned above, plus a photo from the 1934 yearbook of long-time Central speech teacher Isabelle Ronan. Fred Markgraff and Paul Harvey Aurandt were both Class of 1936. Ethel Mae Mazelton, Harold Collis, and Mary Betty French were Class of 1935.

Paul Harvey's memories of Lindbergh's visit were slightly off. On September 30, 1927, during that year's International Petroleum Exposition, Lindbergh flew the Spirit of St. Louis into McIntyre Airport, southeast of Admiral and Sheridan, a private airport founded by New Zealand World War I veteran Duncan McIntyre. The aviator's arrow atop Reservoir Hill originally pointed to McIntyre Field. In 1927, Tulsa didn't yet have a municipal airport, but Lindbergh's visit, part of the Guggenheim Tour, provided the inspiration for Tulsa leaders to get one built. It was alongside the new municipal airport that W. G. Skelly built the Spartan Aircraft factory and Spartan School of Aeronautics, about a year later. It's understandable that Paul Harvey would conflate the two.

McIntyre Airport, September 30, 1927. (L to R) Lt. A.C. Strickland (Lindbergh's trainer), Col. Charles A. Lindbergh, Mayor Herman F. Newblock, and Lt. Arthur Goebel. McIntyre Airport was Tulsa's first commercial airport, located at the southeast corner of Admiral Place (aka Hwy 66) and Sheridan Street. Lindbergh always carried his leather flight helmet with him (left hand in photo). The medal on Mayor Newblock's lapel was given to him by Charles Lindbergh. The medal says Lucky Lindy, New York to Paris. Accession #A0045. The Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.

Zingo is for sale. The Bell's Amusement Park roller coaster that thrilled generations of Tulsans is being auctioned off on eBay by Better Price Surplus Warehouse for $400,000 or best offer.

Roller Coaster for Sale. Engineered and manufactured by Philadelphia Toboggan Co. Erected in 1968 and dismantled in 2006. The Zingo Roller Coaster formerly at Bell's Amusement Park in Tulsa, Oklahoma has been dismantled, put in storage and is now for sale. The train, track, gears, motor, chain, bent legs, and lumber (2x6, 2x8, 4x4, 4x6, 6x6, 6x8, 6x12). Tens of thousands of board feet of lumber, all double kiln, dried pressure treated, yellow pine painted with white latex. The coaster was 72 feet at its highest point and 2,675 feet long. This lumber can be cut, sorted, loaded etc, at its present location as long as its gone by 5/30/2011.

This coaster is for sale as a whole unit or can be separated into 2 lots. The lumber as 1 lot and all other components (train, track, gears, motor, chain, etc.) as Lot 2. The asking price is $250,000 USD for each lot, or $400,000 USD in its entirety or Best Offer by 4/15/2011. This equipment and lumber must be moved from its present location by May 30th, 2011. We will entertain any serious offer and help with the logistics of the move. Contact Marc Price at 918-625-0492 or email bargains@betterpricestore.com

It's not unheard of for a wood roller coaster to find a new home. Frontier City's Wildcat was relocated from Fairyland Park in Kansas City. Knoebels' Phoenix came from Playland Park in San Antonio. According to the Roller Coaster Database, there are only 167 operating wood roller coaster in the entire world; 120 of them are in North America. Perhaps Zingo can find a good home in another part of America or another part of the world. Or perhaps someone could find a place for it here in the Tulsa area.

MORE: News on 6 talks to Robby Bell:

Bell says he decided to sell Zingo because he needs the money to help open a new Bell's. And he says he's only selling what could be easily replaced, unlike some of the other rides at Bell's.

"So certain pieces we don't want to turn loose of, but Zingo is just a matter of lumber and bolts. And we have the trains and the chain, but even if we sold that, that could be replaced," he said.

In case you missed it, Joseph Hamilton, restaurant reviewer for Urban Tulsa Weekly had a cover story last week that at least partly answered a question I've long pondered: how would one go about keeping kosher in Tulsa?

I'm a brother of Zeta Beta Tau, which was founded as a Jewish fraternity in 1898, but became non-sectarian in 1954. During my years at MIT, about a third of our chapter's brothers were Jewish. It was interesting to notice the various levels of observance, particularly regarding dietary laws. Several brothers had a kosher kitchen set up in the basement, and they took turns cooking for each other. Just a few blocks from our house, on Harvard Street in Brookline, you could find a variety of shops offering kosher food. A number of brothers who came from less observant homes started to keep kosher and to adopt a more observant way of life while in college. But many of the Jewish brothers ate the same food as the rest of us; alternative entrees were available when pork was the main dish.

Hamilton's story does a good job of explaining that keeping kosher goes beyond avoiding pork and shellfish. It affects the appliances and utensils you use in cooking, your dishes, and the way in which meat is prepared. It is a challenging and complex way of life and requires careful thought and planning.

It also requires nearby merchants who can provide kosher ingredients. So are there kosher butchers and kosher delis in Tulsa? Is it practical to keep kosher in Tulsa?

But Rabbi [Marc] Fitzerman of B'nai Emunah said no one should have trouble finding kosher foods.

"Kosher-supervised goods are widely available in every part of the country," he said. "This is a fast-growing part of the economy; with many people who are not Jewish themselves seeking out kosher goods on the assumption that supervision insures greater quality. The challenge is almost always kosher meat.

"Many markets in Tulsa carry it, and the Synagogue always stocks products for the sake of convenience. But like many smaller communities, we don't have a local kosher butcher who can supply fresh goods. I hope that the Synagogue will eventually be able to remedy that problem, but it's a work in progress."

Rabbi Charles Sherman of Temple Israel said that because of the almost total lack of kosher restaurants and a decided lack of a Jewish neighborhood and temples within walking distance, Orthodox Jews simply don't move to Tulsa. Keeping an Orthodox and kosher lifestyle is an almost unachievable goal in anything other than the most austere of circumstances.

Others in the Jewish community echo his sentiments by saying without hesitation that there are no places in Tulsa that accommodate the kosher community well and no kosher-only meat markets at all. Even travelers passing through Tulsa planning to stick with a kosher diet have to pack their bags with a few of their own foods. The Tulsa International Airport only offers retail packaged items that are certified kosher.

I was pleased to see that Hamilton spoke to Rabbi Yehuda Weg of the Chabad House, home to Tulsa's often-overlooked third synagogue, Beth Torah. Temple Israel, a Reform congregation, and B'nai Emunah of the Conservative denomination have been around for 96 and 94 years respectively. Chabad, a branch of Hasidic Judaism, has only been in Tulsa since 1988, the first Orthodox presence in the city since B'nai Emunah moved into the Conservative fold some decades ago. Unlike the two older congregations, Beth Torah doesn't have a large and elaborate physical plant; they are based in a 1940s farmhouse on a couple of acres, tucked back in a neighborhood. It would have been interesting to read Rabbi Weg's advice to those seeking to keep kosher in Tulsa.

MORE about Jewish history in Tulsa and Oklahoma:

Wikipedia's list of synagogues in Oklahoma, including inactive synagogues in Ardmore, Enid, Chickasha, and Hartshorne.

"Jews" article in Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture: The Jewish population in Oklahoma peaked at 7,500 in the 1920s, was about 5,000 at the 2000 census.

Part 1 of Tulsa's Jewish Pioneers, which notes that in the 1910s, there were two kosher butchers -- one at Main, Boulder, and Haskell, and one on 9th between Cincinnati and Detroit.

Meats 2 U: A shop at B'nai Emunah offering kosher meat.

Wikipedia article on Jewish religious movements, explaining the differences between Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, and other movements

Natasha Ball (Tasha Does Tulsa) has posted the notes from her presentation last week at Ignite Tulsa 3 -- 19 Ways to Get to Know Your Town (Even If It's Not Tulsa). All the suggestions are good (except maybe 17 -- if I ever do Foursquare it'll be under a pseudonym). I particularly approve of the advice to see a city on foot and to get involved in church, clubs, and causes, particularly if you plan to be around for a while. (On a recent trip to Wichita, I attended the unveiling of their new downtown plan; very interesting to compare it to the PLANiTULSA process.)

Over the last couple of years, I've had the opportunity to spend some extended time in other cities. Here are five things I do to get to know a new city.

1. Study a map: Google Maps and Tom-Toms are all well and good, but there's no substitute for poring over a street map on paper to get a handle on where things are, how they relate to one another, and what might be of interest. A map gives you opportunities for serendipitous discoveries that you might never make on the web: A point of interest with an obscure or intriguing label, a street that deviates from the grid, the names of neighborhoods and districts. If you're a AAA member, you can stop by the office on 15th St. between Utica and Lewis to get a street map for a city you're planning to visit -- it's included in your membership.

2. Peruse the WPA Guide for the state: Back during the Great Depression, the Federal Government set writers and photographers to work documenting each of the states -- history, culture, economy, cities, and highways -- as they were in the late 1930s. Each book features a series of driving tours with descriptions of landmarks and historic sites. Some of the places are long gone, but many are still there, if perhaps overlooked. You'll find these books in the library (and on Google Books) under a number of names: Federal Writers' Project, American Guide Series, WPA Guide. Often the book will have a map showing the paths that U. S. and state highways took through town in the days before freeways and interstates, and that leads me to my next point.

(Oklahoma: A Guide to the Sooner State ought to be on the bookshelf of every Oklahoman. If you can find the University of Kansas reissue, The WPA Guide to 1930s Oklahoma, it contains an essay by historian Angie Debo that was cut from the original edition.)

3. Follow the old highway routes through town: Look for a map from the 1950s or earlier showing the streets that were designated as US or state highways, and then drive the road between downtown and the outskirts of town. On the edge of the city, you'll find commercial architecture from the heyday of the family road trip: old motels and tourist courts, diners, gas stations, tourist traps, and curio shops. This is where you're likely to find flamboyant neon signage designed to catch the eye of a weary dad behind the wheel of his station wagon. While roadside architecture along the interstates looks the same from one end of the country to the other, back before the interstates roadside buildings bore the imprint of local character and local imagination. Here you may still find cafes that once catered to tourists and truckers but now mainly serve the locals.

Closer to town, the old highways are likely to take you past the kind of neighborhood commercial districts which are often incubators for urban revitalization. Tulsa's Cherry Street developed along what was once U. S. 64, the main road between Tulsa and Muskogee and Ft. Smith. This is where you might find an interesting antique shop or a hip coffee house.

You might be able to find this sort of map in the state's WPA Guide. Many state highway departments have posted scans of old official highway maps online: e.g. Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri.

4. Hang out in an indie coffeehouse: You don't have to answer all your email from your lonely hotel room. Find a friendly locally-owned coffeehouse with wifi. These places often serve as de facto community centers, and the bulletin board and the barista can tip you off to live music, gallery exhibits, festivals, lectures, and other types of local flavor. I always check IndieCoffeeShops.com, a crowd-sourced database that uses Google Maps to help you locate coffeehouses. When I find one that isn't listed, I give back by adding it to the IndieCoffeeShops.com database. You can filter the search for wifi, food (more than just pastries), beer and wine, and whether or not smoking is allowed and outdoor seating is available. UrbanSpoon is another way to search for cafes, pubs, and restaurants with free wifi.

5. Check out the local alt-weekly: Many alt-weeklies publish an annual "Best of" edition that will clue you in to the locals' favorite places to shop, eat, drink, and play. You can usually find the most recent "Best of" on the paper's website. The latest edition (likely available at the aforementioned indie coffeehouse) will give you a calendar of events and often interesting feature stories spotlighting local issues, performers, artists, and eateries.

William Franklin, a Tulsa muralist, wants to create a museum in Tulsa devoted to Art Deco. He calls the idea "Decopolis," and he's working incrementally to gather fellow deco fans to help make this dream a reality. Supporters of Decopolis held a Deco Ball earlier this year in the zig-zag deco lobby of the Oklahoma Natural Gas building at 7th and Boston. The next promotional event is a Gatsby Picnic on Sunday, October 3:

The idea comes from the book the "Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. On the lawn of his mansion, Jay Gatsby would throw fabulously extravagant parties that everyone longs to attend. Gatsby has his own beach, a swimming pool, tents having overflowing food buffets, and live music under the stars. These parties, frequented by the sophisticated old money families from the east and the new, "rough around the edges" wealthy from the west, were the epitome of 1920s indulgence and opulence.

A Gatsby Picnic is a chance to step back to this luxurious time and have a little fun. Period costume is highly encouraged. The setting for our picnic will be the lawn of the magnificent Harwelden Mansion. There will be tents selling foodstuffs, but we do en­courage you to bring a picnic basket and blanket. Some even go so far as to set up dining room tables and chairs or have a sitting room type set up with say, comfy wicker chairs, a rug and coffee tables. We will be having a contest for best picnic set-up. We will also have badminton, bocce ball, and croquet games going on. Plus, we will have "deco era" 1920's-40's cars at the event. If you know of anyone who has a car from that era, have them go to our sign up page on the DECOPOLIS website, we would love to see them there. The picnic is free, but as this is also a fundraiser to help create an Art Deco Museum for Tulsa, we will have raffle tickets, great silent auction items, and a percentage of what is sold at the food and arts tents will go towards the museum fund.

Here's more information on the 2010 Decopolis Gatsby Picnic, and here's where you can apply to be a food or art vendor at the picnic.

For more info about Decopolis, visit the website and sign up for the monthly Decopolis Star Dispatch, an email newsletter with updates on museum plans, a spotlight on an Art Deco building or artifact, and period cartoons, drawings, and jokes.

I received an email of appreciation about the BatesLine entry on Radio's Online History Resource, and I was asked how I find this stuff. In this case, I had done a Google search for Hal O'Halloran -- his name had come up in an email conversation among a group of us who were regular listeners and callers to Hal's sports talk shows in the late 1970s and early 1980s on KXXO, KTOW, and KELI.

As it happened, the reader who asked the question, radio veteran Chuck Fullhart, had worked with Hal in the 1970s, and he had an interesting story about one Tulsa station's broadcasts of our minor league baseball team at the time, the Tulsa Oilers of the American Association:

I had the pleasure of working with Hal doing the Oiler broadcasts one season. If memory serves me correctly, it was the time after he had left 8 and had started doing the talk shows.

My job as PD at KBJH, later KCFO was one of the more interesting and challenging that I held while worshipping at the Shrine of The Golden Transmitter.

And working with guys like Hal made it a real pleasure.

The station income went into a black hole in the college books somewhere (the licensee was American Christian College-Billy James Hargis's school that he founded), and we were constantly looking at sports events and anything that we could peddle to make money in the afternoon and evening hours.

What you heard was what you got with Hal. Really just a nice guy, and extremely knowledgable as a broadcaster and sportscasster. That was 8's loss.

We just provided Hal with a mixer and mike, and made sure that the phone line was installed, and Ma Bell managed to put a few gray hairs on my less that plentiful head of hair by getting the installation done an hour before an away match started.

KCFO also made a deal with the devil, A. Ray Smith, to carry the Tulsa baseball games for about 2 seasons.

I didn't have to deal directly with the gentleman, but I had heard the stories about him for years.

Terry Green was the announcer on the payroll at the time with the team.

The first year, it was just putting in the phone lines to the away games, and selling the time.

The second year, after looking at the costs, someone made the decision that we would not carry the away games,since the cost of the phone loops were to expensive, and that the away games had to be recreated.

This was a real challenge for a station with no sound library, and a relatively primitive setup with equipment. Lots of mikes, and a couple of studios, but not much else.

We finally went to a few of the games, recorded the background sounds, bats cracking, cheering, etc. and put them on carts.

When Terry was in the studio for the away games, he would crack a bat, or the guy on the board at the time would crack the bat, and make sure that the crowd cheered, etc.

It was hard to believe that we were actually doing that in the early 70s, when it probably had not been done since the mid 50s.

One of my most prevelant memories is Terry's recovery after asking some ball player a question during the pre game or post game when he would interview and spotlight the various players, and there being nothing but dead air for 30 seconds while the highly paid, athletically talented but either not too interested or just bored player would either not respond or just grunt a yes or no. That's the best training in the world, and I think all three people listening at the time realized it.

Many thanks to Chuck for allowing me to share this story on BatesLine. For more of Tulsa's sportscasting and baseball history, be sure to check out TulsaTVMemories.com, where you can find some of my reminiscences about Hal O'Halloran, too.

Oklahoma City has a new museum. Retro Metro OKC was launched recently, an online archive of Oklahoma City history, devoted to making artifacts and images of the city's past more readily accessible to the public via the Internet. Its mission statement:

Retro Metro OKC is dedicated to educating the community and its visitors about local history by collecting, preserving, displaying and interpreting materials reflecting the heritage of Oklahoma City.

And from the "about us" page:

RetroMetroOKC was started in September, 2009 by a group of history enthusiasts wishing to better promote and tell the history of the greater Oklahoma City metro and to support and work with like-minded organizations whenever possible. We are dedicated to making history fun and accessible to all. The founding group consists of historians, authors, urban planners, attorneys, real estate professionals, videographers and designers with ages ranging from 17 to 70.

I see some familiar names on the founders' roster: Oklahoman reporter and blogger Steve Lackmeyer (president of the organization), Jack Money (reporter and co-author with Lackmeyer of two books on Oklahoma City history, and co-founder of okchistory.com), Doug Loudenback (who has singlehandedly created a great web resource on Oklahoma City history), urban planner Blair Humphreys.

A Retro Metro OKC press release (via Dustbury) explains how the collection will be built:

Retro Metro OKC operates differently from other organizations in that we have no museum, we have no physical collections, and in most instances the materials we display remain in private ownership. In a typical situation our volunteer crews go to a home or business to scan an owner's collection and the owner participates in the project by sharing information about the photos and documents as they are being scanned. The materials never have to leave an owner's possession -- the owner is simply asked to sign a release that allows for the materials to be displayed online.

The owner of such materials is given a disc of the digitized images and documents -- and copies also will be given to the Oklahoma Historical Society and the Metropolitan Library System to ensure they will be preserved for future generations.

This is exciting. It's a great way to collect and display historical information, and I look forward to seeing the collection grow. I'd love to be a part of such an effort here in Tulsa. So much material is already in the possession of the Tulsa Historical Society (photographs, ephemera, and artifacts, including the massive Beryl Ford Collect), the Tulsa Library system (vertical files, old government documents), INCOG (historical aerial photos and maps), the City of Tulsa (permits, ordinances, maps) -- but it needs to be digitized, categorized, and organized online in some form. The Retro Metro OKC folks were wise enough to realize that no one person, no one organization could tackle the job alone.

Nevertheless, I'm thankful for the all the local Tulsa history that is already available online. Tulsa Gal has been posting photos and ads from the Official Book of Tulsa in Pictures, a special publication for the 1927 International Petroleum Exposition and Tulsa State Fair. Her July archive contains all six parts of her Tulsa 1927 series.

Some of the most interesting aspects of these photos are the incidental details that are captured, details that would have been routine at the time, not noteworthy, but which are fascinating today. James Lileks calls this phenomenon "inadvertent documentary." For example: Go through the Tulsa 1927 posts and count how many times you see streetcar tracks, streetcar wires, or an actual streetcar.

Tulsa Gal also posts a regular photo trivia question on the Tulsa Historical Society Facebook page.

My apologies for the lapse since my last post. I've been writing, but it's all technical stuff for the gig that pays most of the bills.

While I was at the Coffee House on Cherry Street cranking away on that technical documentation, a customer at the next table, a gentleman named Cecil Cloud, said hello, identified himself as a BatesLine reader, and mentioned a post here about historic maps.

Cecil showed me an amazing collection of U. S. Geological Survey maps of Indian Territory and Oklahoma, online at the University of Texas Perry Castañeda Library Map Collection. Most of the maps predate statehood.

Take a look at this map showing Tulsa as part of the Claremore quadrangle, 1897. What's fascinating is that this is before the Dawes Commission, before land was allotted in quarter-sections to enrolled tribal members, and therefore before the familiar grid of section line roads was established. The townships, ranges, and sections were established, and are shown on the map as a reference grid, making it possible to pinpoint old locations with respect to the present day arterial grid. But the roads on these pre-1900 maps show a network of roads that follows the land, connecting settlements as directly as the terrain will allow.

Here's the section of the map covering what is now midtown and downtown Tulsa.

The grid of early day Tulsa is there, laid out parallel and perpendicular to the Frisco tracks which gave birth to the town. But the grid extends only from modern day Cameron St to 4th St, Cheyenne Ave to Cincinnati Ave. Beyond that, notice the hub of trails just east of present day 21st and Harvard, probably close to the high point that was more recently occupied by a water tower (just east of 21st and Louisville).

Notice too the creeks and streams, long before they were turned into underground storm sewers or rerouted into concrete channels. It's interesting, too, to see the locations of fords and ferries.

Here's an interesting contrast in the neighboring quad to the north, covering Washington, Nowata, and northern Rogers counties:

• Nowata quadrangle, 1897
• Nowata quadrangle, 1913

In just 16 years, the network of trails has been mostly replaced with a grid of section line roads, new towns have been established, and every few miles there's a school. Note the electric railway linking Bartlesville, Tuxedo, and Dewey.

More amazement at the PCL online archive:

1:250,000 USGS maps, including Tulsa maps from 1947 and 1967, covering all of Oklahoma northeast of Jenks. Note that the 1947 city map of Tulsa shows the Tulsa County Fairgrounds within the Tulsa city limits. The 1947 topo map shows the Union Electric Railway connecting Nowata and Coffeyville.
McGraw Electric Railway Manual Maps, 1913: Streetcar maps from nearly everywhere except Oklahoma, including Joplin, Little Rock, Dallas, Fort Worth, San Antonio, and Brooklyn.

Reader Sue Snider was kind enough to send along a bit of letterhead from the Oklahoma Hotel, something she found while sorting through things after a move.

OKLAHOMA HOTEL
EUROPEAN
R. E. DRENNAN, PROPRIETOR
MODERN IN EVERY PARTICULAR
COURTESY AND SERVICE

There's no address on it, but it may be the "New Oklahoma Hotel" identified on the 1939 and 1962 Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps on the southeast corner of 2nd and Cincinnati, on the second and third floors, above the Oklahoma Tire and Supply Company (better known to Sooner boomers as OTASCO). This is the northwest corner of Block 107 of Tulsa's original townsite. Thanks to reader Mark Sanders, we know that the 1947 Polk City Directory lists the New Oklahoma Hotel at this location. The 1957 Polk directory doesn't show a hotel at that location, so Ms. Snider's estimate of a date in the 1940s is probably accurate.

In 1960, it was the most populous downtown block with 199 residents. Today it's a surface parking lot serving the Performing Arts Center and Tulsa's new City Hall.

I haven't been able to find out anything about proprietor R. E. Drennan, but I see a few current Tulsa listings for the Drennan name, so perhaps there's a connection.

This sort of thing never happens, right? Never, ever would a secretive group of private business leaders direct the redevelopment decisions of public agencies from behind the scenes. And if they did, well, we just have to trust that these business leaders know far more about urban development than the unwashed masses, as is readily apparent by the wealth they accumulated in completely unrelated fields of endeavor, right? We just have to trust that they have the best interests of the city at heart.

The OKC History Blog has an entry about a group of Oklahoma City business executives called Metro Action Planners and their efforts (of questionable legality) in the late 1970s to implement architect I. M. Pei's plan for downtown redevelopment. The story begins with Pei's return visit in 1976:

His summons to appear came from a new, informal group of downtown Oklahoma City business leaders assembled by the Chamber of Commerce to expedite implementation of his plans for the area.

The group - Metro Action Planners - was led by Southwestern Bell President John Parsons. The group had no office, no phone number, and no mailing list. And no vice presidents or directors were allowed.

Its membership was limited to CEOs, presidents and downtown property owners, and those who belonged included Charles Vose, president of First National Bank and Edward L. Gaylord, publisher of The Daily Oklahoman.

Behind the scenes, the group picked which retail developer would get a shot at building a planned indoor shopping mall:

In April [1977], the Urban Renewal Authority sought new proposals and got them from a local man, Bill Peterson, Dallas-based developer Vincent Carrozza, who estimated he could get the project done in six to 10 years, another outside developer, Starrett-Landmark, and Cadillac Fairview. (5)

While Carrozza, in particular, had no doubts about his project's future success, Cadillac Fairview's proposal was much more reserved in that regard.

The latter's proposal cautioned that there was "absolutely no certainty at this time that sufficient department store interest can be committed to ensure that the major Galleria retail can proceed in the near future."

But, Carrozza enchanted Metro Action Planners. The group, in fact, committed itself to raise $1.6 million needed to create a limited partnership with the developer to get the project going.

Before the end of April, 1978, Carrozza had his deal with local leaders.

Then everything unraveled when the developer asked for a favor from an official who, evidently, wasn't part of the in-crowd:

Oklahoma's attorney general launched a probe in August of 1980 to determine whether Carrozza, urban renewal and Metro Action Planners had restrained trade by creating an informal building moratorium downtown to enhance possibilities that the Galleria project would be successful.

The Metro Action Planners, it had turned out, had approved a moratorium on downtown building in October 1978. The following year, Carrozza had contacted an Urban Renewal commissioner, asking him to seek a second moratorium from the group. At the time, Carrozza was finding it difficult to find financing for a second office tower he was building on the Galleria site.

The commissioner - Stanton L. Young - declined to carry out Carrozza's request, and was not implicated of any wrong-doing.

Neither, curiously, was anyone else.

But while the attorney general's investigation went nowhere, the damage to this super-powerful group of downtown leaders had been done.

Metro Action Planners abruptly disappeared from the downtown redevelopment scene.

So much for corporate commitment to the free market. This shadowy group choked off downtown development to clear the path for their favored developer, who (by the way) never completed his project. The land -- most of a 2 x 2 superblock -- continues to sit mostly empty. The new downtown library was built on the northwest corner of the site.

But I'm sure this situation was peculiar to Oklahoma City, and powerful, private groups have never steered the actions of Tulsa's urban renewal agency, and if they did, I'm sure it was for our own good.

Some time ago, I wrote a blog post urging the stewards of the Beryl Ford Collection to post the collection on Flickr, so as to invite public participation in collecting data about people, places, and times depicted in photos and ephemera from Tulsa history. A couple of months later, I learned that Flickr has a special program specifically for archives like the Beryl Ford Collection. It's called Flickr Commons, and it's being used by the likes of the Library of Congress, the Smithsonian Institution, and national archives in the US, UK, New Zealand, the Netherlands, Scotland, and Texas.

Smaller institutions are participating as well: The Bergen Public Library, the Jewish Historical Society of the Upper Midwest, and the Upper Arlington (Ohio) History collection. Tulsa's Beryl Ford Collection would fit right in.

The institutions are participating in Flickr Commons to make their collections more widely available and to extend their ability to identify what they have, using Flickr's built-in tools to collect comments, notes, and geographical and chronological metadata about each photo.

The key goals of The Commons on Flickr are to firstly show you hidden treasures in the world's public photography archives, and secondly to show how your input and knowledge can help make these collections even richer.

Today I found a great example of how this works. The Smithsonian Institution is publishing a series of photos called "Women in Science." One of the photos is of Elizabeth Sabin Goodwin. The photo's description:

The Flickr community is invited to assist in the identification of Ms. Goodwin.

And so they have. Within a month or so, someone found her 1924 wedding announcement in the Washington Post's online archives. A mention of her high school and age led to her photo in the Central High School yearbook, and later obituaries for her father and husband turned up. Recently, her granddaughter came across the photo and provided more information about Elizabeth Sabin Goodwin, and why this artist would have been included in the Science Service's collection -- she was an illustrator for a science magazine.

More here about E. S. Goodwin on indicommons, a blog devoted to interesting finds in The Commons on Flickr.

Here's another example of Web 2.0 collaboration to identify historic photos: Amateur history detectives discovered that the surname of this woman of science had been mis-transcribed from handwriting -- "Gans" was misread as "Gaus."

MORE:

Still plenty of mystery women of science to be identified: Who is J. M. Deming? Or Miss W. Dennis?

Indicommons brings together photos of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair from various Commons collections. There's a Google Earth overlay of Columbian Exposition photos, too.

The Texas State Archives debuts with architectural drawings of state park facilities built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s.

Yesterday, I took part of the afternoon off and took our three kids to the Tulsa Historical Society in Woodward Park. It was our first visit as a family, and we all enjoyed it immensely.

The "carrot" to get us in the door was a special Spring Break promotion for families -- complete a History Detective Scavenger Hunt and win a 2010 Tulsa Historical Society membership. (I learned about the promotion via their @TulsaHistory account on Twitter.)

The scavenger hunt involved finding answers to questions in the museum's exhibits -- Tulsa in the 1940s, Seidenbach's Department Store, Zebco, lost movie palaces, construction photos of historic buildings. We only had an hour and were about to finish well within that time, but we could easily have spent much more time exploring. I understand that the Seidenbach's exhibit is about to close, so if you're interested in the history of ladies' fashion and retail, you'll want to visit very soon. (An exhibit on Tulsa baseball opens in April.)

THS does a great job of exhibiting its historic photographs and artifacts, both in making them easy to view and in providing context for appreciating their significance. I loved the megasized prints of aerial and streetscape photographs in the '40s exhibit -- it made it easy to show my kids the places they know and the places that are long gone. (Comment from the 13-year-old on the '40s streetscape photos: "I wish downtown still looked like that." Comment from the 9-year-old on color photos of the Akdar Theater / Cimarron Ballroom: "They tore that down for parking? Were they blind?")

When we turned in our completed scavenger hunt paper, we were signed up for our membership, and the kids were given a copy of Tulsa History A to Z, a book filled with photos and interesting stories of Tulsa's past.

As THS closed for the day, we went back to the car to retrieve scooters and a bicycle then walked across the parking lot to the Tulsa Arboretum. The collection of trees is ringed by a paved path that was just right for our 4-year-old and his Lightning McQueen bike. As we circled the park, he had us stop at every brass nameplate so I could tell him the English and Latin names of each tree.

The Tulsa Historical Society is open Tuesday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Admission is free!

MORE: Become a fan of Tulsa Historical Society on Facebook to see daily historic photos and trivia questions and news about THS events and exhibits.

James Howard Kunstler, the author of provocative books on urban design, architecture, and the economy (The Geography of Nowhere, The Long Emergency, World Made by Hand), has named the new building for Clinton Middle School, on W. 41st St. in Tulsa's Red Fork neighborhood, as his "Eyesore of the Month":

Presenting the new Clinton Middle School, Tulsa, Oklahoma -- a building that expresses to perfection our current social consensus about the meaning of education.

Read for yourself his description of the new building, accompanied by photos, and scroll to the bottom of the page to click through his list of previous Eyesores of the Month. It's harsh but fair.

(Be aware that, although he doesn't have any rude words on that particular page, Kunstler is fairly free with expletives on other pages on the site.)

On his Historic Tulsa blog, Bill Miller has photos of the old Clinton Middle School as the demolition process was underway. Even in its final hours, the old school retained its dignity. There's a pre-demolition close-up picture of the main entry on the Webster High School class of '76 website. A Facebook group called "I went to the ORIGINAL Clinton Middle School" has a collection of photos from the final tour of the old Clinton Middle School.

UPDATED 2022/07/13 to replace broken links with Internet Archive Wayback Machine links. Unfortunately, the Webster Class of '76 website used Photobucket to host their pictures, and the Wayback Machine doesn't have them. The Facebook photos are still there; FB changed the URL. Also added the photo that I submitted to Kunstler along with my nomination of the new Clinton as Eyesore of the Month.

As I noted when I first reported on the Clinton demolition in June 2009, when driving down 41st Street in Red Fork, I always enjoyed seeing the old Clinton building, with its two stories with a basement, a flight of steps from the street to the forecourt and then another set of steps up to the main doors, crenellated turrets to either side. The school combined with the street-fronting Christian Church just to the east (still standing, now a United Pentecostal Church), the Baptist Church to the west (demolished for the new school), and down the hill at the intersection with Union Pleasant Porter School, set in the middle of Reed Park, and Trinity Baptist Church, 41st Street had the look of the main street of a proper small town in its own right (as Red Fork was until annexation in 1927), not just another subdivision of Tulsa. Clinton had been the town's high school until Daniel Webster High School was built in 1938.

It's always a surprise to get a comment on an old post, usually a pleasant one.

Over the last 24 hours, two old blog entries have received comments.

The first, from Lisa S. of Joshua, Texas, was posted to my July 2008 entry about a visit to the pictographs at Paint Rock, Texas. Last week, she and her dad were heading back home from visiting the town of Paint Rock and decided to follow the signs to the pictographs. I guess she was looking on the web for more info, came across my writeup, and was kind enough to report her own wonderful tour of the pictographs.

The second, from Howard Giles, posted from an Albuquerque, N.M., IP address, complains bitterly about my May 2009 entry on a 1981 Downtown Tulsa Unlimited plan for redeveloping what we now call Brady Arts District (or, better, the Bob Wills District). I had quoted from an April 7, 1981, Tulsa World business news story on the plan, which included extensive quotes from planner John Lauder of Urban Design Group. Mr. Giles thinks I should have done further research -- actually sought out a copy of the plan -- before writing anything about it. I replied: "It's not meant to be a finished piece of research, just a snippet of information I thought deserving of wider exposure. I let my readers know the source of the information and where it could be found so that an interested reader could do further research on his own." In my reply, I invited Mr. Giles to share any specific information he has about the 1981 plan.

Apropos the recent story on high water usage, here are a couple of public service announcements on water conservation featuring Gailard Sartain:

Check out the Tulsa TV Memories YouTube channel for more glimpses into Tulsa broadcasting history, including several more clips from KGCT 41, the short-lived attempt at news-talk TV on downtown Tulsa's Main Mall.

Amanda DeCort of the Tulsa Preservation Commission has a blog entry today about a blog devoted to paintings of Tulsa's buildings and streetscapes:

Local artist Celeste Vaught is on a mission to paint as many of Tulsa's fantastic historic buildings as she can. You can check out her "Brick X Brick" series by visiting her blog, http://celestevaughtart.blogspot.com/. Vaught's striking paintings have captured everything from the Atlas Life Building to the Phoenix Dry Cleaners.

In her "About the Artist" blurb, Vaught writes:

"How did you go from painting flowers and still life to painting buildings?" you might be wondering. As I was driving around Tulsa, I noticed, of all things, how many really neat old apartment buildings we have. It was Eugene Apartments, a striking white deco complex that began this journey of painting Tulsa architecture. I discovered a real passion for capturing the beauty of these structures. Tulsa is one of the best places in the world to see Art Deco Architecture. It's my goal to paint as many interesting Tulsa buildings before they disappear. I'll try to share a little history and some of the thinking/methods behind my paintings. For Tulsa natives, I hope you'll identify with each of the paintings and for those unfamiliar with our lovely city, may you be encouraged to visit soon!

A typical Vaught blog entries includes one of her paintings, the history of the featured buildings, and information on the composition and technique involved in capturing that moment and turning it into a piece of art.

The example above highlights the sign on the Atlas Life Building. Click the link to go to her blog entry and a larger image of the painting.

You can find out more about Celeste Vaught and her work on her website.

In response to a thread at TulsaNow's public forum, here is a map showing the routes of Tulsa's three streetcar/interurban lines: Red is the Tulsa Street Railway, blue is Oklahoma Union Traction, and green is the Sand Springs Railway. The latter two lines had interurban routes to Sapulpa and Kiefer and to Sand Springs respectively, and the interurban tracks continue to provide diesel freight service. OUT is now known as the Tulsa-Sapulpa Union Railroad. Click the picture to see a much bigger version.

To make it easier to explore the routes, here is a Tulsa streetcars and interurbans KMZ file, for use with Google Maps and Google Earth.

The routes are largely based on maps and text in the book When Oklahoma Took the Trolley, as well as some documents from City of Tulsa archives. If you have any corrections or questions, please leave a comment below or drop a line to me at blog at batesline dot com.

View Larger Map

UPDATE 2019/10/10: Google changed the way it does embedded maps and KML overlays, so I need to change the display approach. Here are some notes for a future revision of the map, based on subdivision plats that show the tracks:

Owen Place subdivision (1910): A turnaround for the Tulsa Street Railway. The single track comes north along Nogales Ave to the junction with Easton St., just south of Owen Park, then loops to the west before rejoining the track.
Hollywood subdivision (1923): Street railway (the Oklahoma Union Traction) coming north on Quanah, through a "subway" under the MK&T tracks, then turning west on Brady Street.
Park Hill subdivision (1910): Union Traction Co. tracks traveling west along Archer, then north on Ralston (now Rosedale Ave), then branching east and west at Easton. The east branch crosses Quanah and had a turnaround in the west entrance to Owen Park. The west branch continues to the edge of the subdivision at County Road (now Union Ave).
Irving Place subdivision (1910): Street railway tracks on Easton Street for the full width of the subdivision, from Union to west of Xenophon, with a diversion for the Washington Irving monument at the intersection of Easton and Vancouver. Plats for the subdivision to the west (New Irving Place, and New Irving Place 2nd Addition) don't show any streetcar lines, but the Easton Street is on the subdivision boundary.

The Tulsa City-County Library digital collections has a map showing Tulsa enumeration districts for the 1920 census. The base map is titled "Street Map of Tulsa, Okla., E. W. Swart, Phone 1511, 207-A S. Main," and a Bureau of Census date stamp says May 5, 1919. This map predates street name reform, so there are all sorts of interesting name variations, some of which have hand-written corrections. A 40-acre Catholic cemetery is shown on the SE 1/4 NW 1/4, S18 T19N R13E; today that's the southern half of the Terwilliger Heights subdivision. It also shows street car and interurban lines:

University of Tulsa, McFarlin Library, Special Collections has a 1921 City of Tulsa map showing streetcar and interurban lines:

• The TSR Main Street/Cheyenne Ave line ends at Marshall Street on the north and 18th Street on the south, although the poor scan makes it hard to tell. From Marshall Street, south on Cheyenne, east on Cameron, south on Main to 18th (Boulder Park).


• The TSR Bellview-Owen Park line begins at a point where Nogales would intersect with Easton, if those streets were extended from the south and west. (Owen Park's southern boundary is shown as lining up with Easton Street to the west.) South on Nogales, east on 3rd Street, south on Madison, east on 5th Place, south on Quincy, stopping at 15th Street.


• The TSR North Peoria-South Frisco line begins at Peoria and King (possibly Latimer, but the scan is poor quality), south on Peoria to 1st, where it joins the Kendall line, west to Madison, south to 3rd, west to Main, south to 5th, west to Frisco, south to 12th (Riverview School).


• The TSR Kendall-West 5th line begins at College and 7th, west to Atlanta Ave, north to 5th St, west to Lewis, north to 1st St, west to Madison, south to 3rd, west to Main, south to 5th, west on 5th to where 5th runs into 7th, near Jackson Ave.


• The OUT Interurban from Sapulpa is shown coming up along what would be Santa Fe Ave on the west side of Howard Park and the east side of Mid Continent Park, then bending east at 23rd Street to run parallel east of the Frisco tracks, diverting to run across the original 11th Street bridge. On the east side of the bridge, the tracks ran north on Maybelle to 7th, then diagonally NE to 1st and Guthrie to join with the streetcar line.


• The OUT streetcar line is shown as starting at Easton and Rosedale (no branches east or west along Easton), south to Archer, east to Lawton, south to 1st, then east to Elwood, south to 4th, east to Elgin, south to 11th, east to St. Louis, south to 19th St. at the southwest corner of Swan Park. (The St. Louis stretch was removed in late 1921, and the OUT built further along 11th to Delaware, 13th, Louisville, to the Fairgrounds.)


• The Sand Springs Interurban is shown passing along the southside of Crosbie Heights, under the hill, then parallel on the northwest side of the Frisco tracks, then past 1st street turning north a half-block east of Lawton, then east on Archer at Guthrie, along Archer to east of Elgin, then curving to Brady and Greenwood, then north on Greenwood to Haskell, then northeast to link to the Santa Fe tracks near King Place.

Some USGS quadrangles show streetcar lines:

USGS Kiefer Quadrangle, 1916: Shows the Oklahoma Union Traction electric railway line from Hickory and Hastain in Sapulpa to Indiana (151st St S) and Stark in Kiefer, as well as the branch extending west from Lee and Hickory in Sapulpa along the south side of Dewey to Rock Creek. Also shows Midland Valley branch to Glenpool.

Newspaper stories report the extension and contraction of the streetcar systems:

Tulsa World, June 20, 1914, p. 3: Tulsa City Commission granted permission for the extension of Tulsa Street Railway in the Central Park area will start at 3rd and Madison, run south to Fostoria (5th Place), east to Quincy, then south to 11th, where it would end for the time being.
Tulsa Democrat, July 2, 1914, p. 8: Tulsa Street Railway to remove annoying 2nd Street loop.
Tulsa World, May 11, 1919, p. 18: Half-page ad for Hunter Addition (on North Peoria, just past the Santa Fe tracks) boasts that the car line is under construction and the road is under contract for paving Peoria to Turley.
Tulsa World, February 5, 1920, p. 38: Quarter-page TSR listing system improvements over the preceding year and a half: Double-tracking of several sections, completion of North Peoria Line (after city injunction lifted), extending Main Street line on Cheyenne as far as Marshall, with plans to go to Orlando, plans to extend Frisco line from 12th to 15th.
Tulsa World, October 23, 1920, p. 23: Hunter Addition ad, Peoria and Washington (now Pine). "Street car within five blocks now."
Tulsa World, October 26, 1920, p. 17: 521 N. Peoria is on car line.
Tulsa World, December 26, 1920, p. 11: TSR advertisement listing streetcars delayed five minutes or more at railroad crossings. (Agitating for subways?) Locations are Main at Frisco, Kendall at Midland Valley (at 3rd?), North Peoria at Midland Valley (at 3rd?).
Tulsa World, January 9, 1921, p. 21: A room to let at 1324 E. Hodge can be reached by taking the North Peoria, Kendall, or 2400 E. First Street car to Peoria, then walking one-half block east.
Tulsa World, January 22, 1921, p. 13: A TSR motorman is held up by the lone passenger for $14 in fares and $5.50 in tickets on the North Peoria line under the viaduct.
Tulsa World, March 22, 1921, p. 1: Four inches of rain cause flooding under both Denver Ave viaducts and the Peoria Ave viaduct. Motorman switched off the motor to try to coast through the water, but passengers had to put their feet on the seats to keep from getting wet. After getting to the other side, he switched the power back on and shorted out the motor.
May 26, 1921, p. 15: Ad for kitchenette to let advises to catch the North Peoria line at 3rd and Main, get off at Peoria, then walk two blocks south to 3rd and Peoria.
Tulsa World, September 11, 1921, p. 15: Three unfurnished rooms as 1234 E. Haskell are on the North Peoria car line.
Tulsa World, January 16, 1922, p. 1: Court to decide if Tulsa Street Railway can run a feeder bus line from its terminus at 15th and Quincy, east along 15th, south on Rockford, east on 17th to Utica, with operations to shift from Rockford to St. Louis once construction was complete (the OUT line to Orcutt Lake Park was removed). A seven-passenger car would serve the feeder line until a new bus is delivered.
Tulsa World, May 26, 1922, p. 4: Letter-writer refers to dire state of main roads leading to Tulsa, with particular venom for the Tulsa Street Railway, "antediluvian relic," "old eyesore," "rails protruding 4 to 12 inches above the other part of the street."
Tulsa World, July 8, 1922, p. 6: Tulsa City Commission voted to allow Oklahoma Union railway to extend its 11th St. line east to Kendall, a first step toward a planned interurban line to Claremore. Kendallites would pay a 5 cent fare. The OUR last year demolished its tracks on St. Louis Ave. south of 11th Street, after the Oklahoma Corporation Commission gave permission.
Tulsa World, October 23, 1922, p. 10: An ad for TSR reminds that transfers are good for only 15 minutes, and only when traveling in the same general direction as the car from which the transfer was issued.

UPDATE: I counted 14 discrete suggestions. The number 11 was selected from a range of 1 to 14 by the random number generator at RANDOM.ORG. And the winner is... Adam, who nominated "C is for the Center of the Universe." Thanks to all for the excellent ideas, which induced a powerful combination of nostalgia and appetite.

A week ago I told you about Jack Frank's latest DVD, Tulsa A to Z, a collection of 26 fascinating pieces of Tulsa lore from the Admiral Twin drive-in to John Zink and his race cars.

I finally had the chance to watch the entire thing, including the wonderful extras -- material that didn't fit in the main presentation but was worth including in some way. If you've missed those QuikTrip commercials from the late '70s with Ben Jones and Lamar the sheepdog, you'll find them here, along with a couple of even older Quik-Trip commercials celebrating the Koolie. There's also some sad but sweet home movie footage of a visit by Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier to Nelson's Buffeteria in 1993.

Jack has generously provided BatesLine with a copy of Tulsa A to Z for a contest giveaway. So here's the deal: To enter the contest, post a comment on this entry with your nomination for a future edition of Tulsa A to Z. For example, "Y is for Yahola, the big lake at Mohawk Park." Or, "Z is for Mr. Zing and Tuffy."

Now, it's going to be impossible for me to pick the best idea from what I'm sure will be a wealth of great suggestions, so I'm going to pick a random entry of those submitted before the deadline of 11:59:59 p.m. CST, Monday, December 7, 2009. Multiple entries are OK, but don't go overboard. (Too many comments from one IP address, and you're likely to get auto-flagged as spam.) Profanity or vulgarity will get your entry excluded and your IP banned. Please keep it positive, in the realm of something Jack might actually use on a future show. I reserve the right to exclude an entry if (in my opinion) it doesn't include a suggestion that meets these criteria. The decision of the judge (me) is final.

All submissions (and ideas contained therein) become my property, and I hereby grant Jack Frank and Tulsa Films license to use the submitted ideas in future productions. In order to win, you must include a valid e-mail address with your comment so I can contact you if you win, and you must be willing to provide a valid mailing address so I can send you the prize. (Please don't post your mailing address with your entry. I'll get it from you later if you're the winner.) Your submission constitutes your agreement to the rules of this contest.

MORE: Ida Red, Brookside's rock'n'roll boutique, will be screening Tulsa A to Z at an open house this Thursday evening, December 10, 2009, 5:30 - 8:30 pm, celebrating their new location at 3336 S. Peoria Ave. (just a few doors down from the old place).

Come check out our new location, our new items while shopping with a glass of wine and some holiday treats!

Jack Frank will be with us to talk about and sign his new DVD! Talk about an amazing Holiday Gift! We will be viewing his DVD BIG on our projector!

We will also have the music of the Red Dirt Rangers!

The party will last from 5:30-8:30! Don't want to miss this great combination of fun!

There's an exciting article in the latest Urban Tulsa Weekly about an effort by my friends Justin and Leah Pickard to establish a small neighborhood grocery in the Brady Heights neighborhood in a 1920s building on Latimer between Cheyenne and Denver Aves. (So strictly speaking, it's not on a corner.)

Pickard described herself and her husband as community activists and Christians who are interested in a number of social issues, including the inaccessibility of affordable, healthy food for many north Tulsans and the lack of affordable home ownership options for those in low-income areas. The opportunity to open a corner market offering fresh, nutritious food was one they simply couldn't pass up, she said.

Pickard said she and her husband were educated about many of the problems facing north Tulsa by neighborhood activist Demalda Newsome of the North Tulsa Farmers Market. She said they are opening the market to help resolve some of those issues and not because they consider it a good economic opportunity.

"Oh, definitely--we're keeping our day jobs," she said. "I'm actually a stay-at-home mom most of the time, and (the store) is right around the corner from our house, so it'll be easy to get over there. But we'll be hiring people to work there because we wanted to create jobs. We wanted to have the opportunity to create employment."...

"We're going to offer healthy food, lots of organic food and lots of local stuff," Pickard said. "We're going to stay away from unhealthy food. If a (convenience store) carries it, we won't. In fact, there's one at Pine and Cincinnati near here. If people want junk food, they can go there."

Pickard said the building has two storefronts, and they will be leasing space to a neighbor who wants to open a coffeehouse on one side.

"She's ready to go," she said.

Pickard said she and her husband also are working with NTEDI to establish a distribution warehouse available to small, independent markets, so the owners can band together and place their orders from wholesalers in bulk, passing the savings along to customers. That will help make fresh, wholesome food affordable to all, she believes.

Justin's brother and sister-in-law, Nathan and Kristin Pickard, are also very active residents of Brady Heights. Nathan recently served as president of the neighborhood association, both Nathan and Kristin serve on the board, and they host occasional house concerts for musicians passing through Tulsa.

The Pickards are a wonderful family, and I know they will put a lot of sweat equity and a lot of love into this project, as they already have in the Brady Heights neighborhood. It will be exciting to see this project come to fruition.

Tonight (November 30, 2009) also brings another fascinating glimpse of Tulsa's past to the Circle Cinema in Whittier Square, Admiral Blvd. and Lewis Ave.:

RadioTU presents a screening of "Going to College", a film about life at The University of Tulsa in the forties, on Monday, November 30 at 7:00 pm at the Circle Cinema. The voice of Dr. Ben Henneke is heard as a high school couple visits classrooms, campus facilities, and Greek houses as they looked sixty years ago. Shuttles will depart from the south side of ACAC for the Circle, located at 3rd and Lewis, beginning at 6:30 pm. For more information, call the Circle Cinema at 585-3456.

Admission is free, and the event is open to the community.

The screening is sponsored by The Office of the President of the University of Tulsa, Public Radio Tulsa (KWGS / KWTU), and radioTU (student radio station at TU). The Circle Cinema Foundation was kind enough to donate the space at the Circle Cinema for the event.

Photo of TU's Kendall Hall, 1950, from the Beryl Ford Collection.

Tonight at 7:30 on KOTV is a half-hour preview of the latest from Jack Frank's wonderful Tulsa Films series: "Tulsa A to Z." Each letter of the alphabet provides a jumping-off point for explaining a fascinating, often obscure aspect of Tulsa history and culture. The broadcast will air on OETA's statewide network Wednesday at 7 p.m.

Jack sent me a preview copy of the DVD last week. My favorite letter so far: "X is for Xanthus," which is not only about this particular oddly named avenue, but Tulsa's street naming system in general. I was also fascinated to learn about a collection of historic photos owned by Mayor-elect Dewey Bartlett Jr. Famed Tulsa eateries like White River Fish Market, Knotty Pine BBQ, Nelson's Buffeteria, and J.J.'s Gourmet Burgers all earn a place in the alphabet, and so do entertainment venues like the Admiral Twin drive-in and the Spotlight Theatre's long-running production of The Drunkard.

The DVD arrives just in time for Christmas, and you can find it at Steve's Sundry, Dwelling Spaces, SpiritBank, QuikTrip, and Borders, and online at tulsafilms.com.

Here's a preview:

Pastor J. H. Dotson during the construction of Mt. Zion Baptist Church. The photos appear to show the remnant of the ruins of the 1921 structure, which had been roofed in 1937 and was being used for worship, being incorporated into the new structure, c. 1948. Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.

I was looking for something (the National Park Service's "1921 Tulsa Race Riot Reconnaissance Survey," a 2005 publication that identified sites of importance related to the riot, which used to be on the web, but is no longer).

I found something else: Mt. Zion Baptist Church's registration form for the National Register of Historic Places. The application was written in April 2008 by Cathy Ambler, Ph.D., a preservation consultant based in Tulsa.

The application, accompanied by maps and photos, both current and historical, tells the story of Greenwood before, during, and after the riot through the story of Mt. Zion. The church's brand new edifice, dedicated in April 1921, was destroyed on June 1, 1921. The membership met in members homes and, later, in a roofed section of the building's ruins until they raised enough money to pay off the debt from the destroyed building and to build a new structure, which was not complete until 1952.

The document is worth reading for a synopsis of the story of Greenwood from its earliest days, through riot, rebuilding, and urban removal, and as a tribute to the indomitable spirit of the members of Mt. Zion.

MORE:

Here is Mt. Zion Baptist Church's webpage on the history of their building.

Two weeks after the riot, Walter F. White, a reporter for The Nation published an on-the-scene report of the causes, its aftermath, and the corrupt and lawless state of Tulsa in 1921.

I was googling for a restaurant sign in an old photo of Bob Wills' tour bus, the restaurant turned out to be the Old Tascosa in Amarillo's Herring Hotel. The Herring Hotel, like Tulsa's Mayo and Oklahoma City's Skirvin, is still standing but has been closed for over 30 years, waiting for someone to bring it back to life.

My search led me to this wonderful page of Amarillo postcards, photos, and news clippings, mainly from the 1960s. I've never been to Amarillo, but the pictures still managed to inspire some nostalgia, as I saw a number of places that were familiar from Tulsa's past. For example:

• A Zuider Zee Restaurant -- Tulsa had one on the north service road of I-44, east of Memorial Drive.
• Woolco, a department store that would anchor Amarillo's Western Plaza Mall in 1967, just like Tulsa's Woolco at the western end of Southroads Mall, two years later.
• A Shamrock gas station (before the shamrock leaves became diamonds)
• A Ramada Inn neon sign, with the innkeeper and his horn -- Tulsa's was on the south I-44 service road, west of Yale
• T. G. & Y. (5¢ TO $1.00)
• Furr's -- here it's always been a cafeteria; in Amarillo it was a grocery chain
• A neocolonial Borden Milk plant, just like the one that used to stand on the southwest corner of 51st and Garnett
• Plenty of roadside hotel chains along Route 66 -- Howard Johnson and Holiday Inn
• Local motels with cool mid-century architecture and neon
• Restaurants with Japanese-style architecture and faux Chinese food -- chop suey and chow mein -- like Tulsa's Pagoda

Here's another page of Amarillo pix with

• a downtown much like ours once was
• drive-in theaters and drive-in restaurants, including a Griff's Burger Bar (ours was on 21st up the hill from Sheridan)
• a streamline deco bus depot
• a downtown building with a lighted tower that showed the weather forecast
• a Downtowner Motor Inn -- ours is still standing at 4th and Cheyenne
• Polk Street -- the main drag -- all lit up at night

I spent the last half of last week and all weekend at home dealing with a particularly nasty virus, and in the process missed a family gathering in Arkansas and what must have been an interesting political discussion. To compensate for the abnormal quiet in the house, I had the TV going all night, with the History Channel running endless repeats of an interesting two-hour documentary on the JFK assassination. I caught bits and pieces of it every time a coughing fit woke me up.

So nothing new from me, but here are some recent Tulsa blog entries of interest:

Tulsa City Councilor John Eagleton has the memo from Mayor Kathy Taylor announcing that September sales tax revenue is $1.2 million below her budget projections with this comment:

The numbers vindicate Councilor Bill Martinson's prediction that the Mayor's numbers were overly optimistic and would leave the incoming mayor and council with difficult budget choices.

Eagleton also was quoted in a story on the city's budget problems in the current issue of Urban Tulsa Weekly, reminding of his spurned efforts in earlier years to rein in spending increases to core inflation:

In 2006, he said, the economy was good, and sales tax receipts were high.

"And we spent every penny we earned," he said. "We gave raises all around that are now baked into the cake. So, it becomes harder and harder every time, with each budget cycle downturn, to meet our budget."

Eagleton favors a budget process based on the core inflation rate that sets aside revenue for the inevitable downturns of the future. Some smaller sacrifices today can help the city avoid having to make what he calls the "Draconian cuts" required in the current budget.

"If we had done that in 2007 and 2008, yes, we would still have to trim the edges, but we wouldn't have the eight furlough days we did have," he said.

Despite Tulsa's budget crisis, Meeciteewurkor reports that some city workers in the Human Resources Department may have received $2500 bonuses for "superb" participation in a city-run training program. The head of the local municipal employees' union says the interim HR director verbally confirmed that the "stipends" were paid and has submitted an open records request seeking written confirmation.

Fear an Iarthair offers some thoughts on Bible translations and reminds that the original preface to the King James Version "advised the reader to read the Scriptures in several translations."

Historic Tulsa has an entry on the Dawson schoolhouse, built in 1908, one of the few (perhaps only) Romanesque structures remaining in Tulsa.

PR consultant Mandy Vavrinak is now blogging on public relations for the Journal Record. According to a press release announcing the blog:

Vavrinak will anchor the newly-launched PR blog, dubbed "Public Relations > Beyond The Press Release" and will focus on the reality of good public relations.

"I want to share solid how-to info for businesses as well as stories from the trenches, good examples and bad examples, and also be a resource for PR information," Vavrinak said. The PR blog will feature contributions from other area PR pros as well, including Kristen Turley, an active member of the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA). New posts will be appearing weekly, and comments are encouraged.

Finally, please keep Brandon Dutcher's newborn daughter Anne Marie in your prayers (and her parents, siblings, and doctors, too).

If you've read BatesLine long, you'll know that I'm fascinated with forgotten bits of local history, such as the history of Greenwood between the 1921 destruction and rebuilding and its second destruction by urban renewal in the early '70s. It's wonderful to see old photos and to read reminiscences that help bring a long-gone locale back to life in the reader's imagination.

In 2007, Cecil Gomez published a book about West Tulsa, the small town wedged in between the Arkansas River, the Cosden (later Mid-Continent, D-X, Sun, and now Holly) Refinery and the Texaco (now Sinclair) Refinery. West Tulsa had its own main street and its own neighborhood schools, churches, and shops. It sat on the Oklahoma Union interurban line linking downtown Tulsa with Sapulpa (the railroad lives on as the Tulsa-Sapulpa Union line).

Gomez grew up in a Mexican neighborhood called the "Y", a cluster of 11 railroad workers' homes surrounded by the Santa Fe and Frisco railroad tracks, just northeast of 21st and Union. In 1996, Gomez published a memoir of his life growing up in such surroundings with his parents and 11 brothers and sisters.

Gomez's book, West Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1939, Before and After: The Greatest Little American Town (That Once Was), expands on those memories to cover the little town across the tracks, and Gomez draws on the memories of other early day residents to accompany historic photos, some that he has collected, some from the Beryl Ford Collection. A couple of chapters are devoted to the destruction wrought by urban renewal in the mid-1960s, which went beyond merely removing out the less desirable housing to wipe out nearly all of the commercial district as well. The close-knit community was dispersed, and a few churches are about all that remain from West Tulsa's heyday.

(Photos from the Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.)

I was pleased to see that Gomez makes use of the 1939 Polk Directory to pinpoint the locations of the businesses and residents of the day and includes excerpts from the directory in an appendix to the book.

Steve's Sundry at 26th and Harvard has several copies of the book, and you can also buy the book directly through Gomez's website. It would make a great gift for anyone interested in Tulsa history whether they have a connection to West Tulsa or not. (Hint, hint.)

Congratulations and thanks to Cecil Gomez for documenting the history of this forgotten town.

UPDATED 2023/02/07 with Internet Archive links. Gomez's website is no longer online, and it appears that Cecil Gomez passed away in 2020 at the age of 93. Foolishly, I never purchased my own copy of his book and never was given one, and now Steve's is gone. The title of the 1996 memoir was Mama and Papa's Twelve Children and the Y, and the webpage for the book has Gomez's hand-drawn map showing the homes and the roads of the little neighborhood surrounded by railroad tracks.

MORE: I came across a 300-page draft manuscript of West Tulsa County history, linked on the SouthwestTulsa.org website, along with an advertisement for a nearly-600 page book about Berryhill

Here it is:

Here are some previous entries on BatesLine that touch on Greenwood and include some of the material I shared at Ignite Tulsa.

Greenwood's streetcar: The Sand Springs Railroad (includes photos)

The rise and fall of Greenwood (includes high res 1951 aerial photo of Deep Greenwood)

Greenwood 1957

Film of Oklahoma's 1920s black communities available through Global ImageWorks

Tulsa 1957: Restaurant map

Notes on sources documenting the resurgence of Greenwood

Goodbye Tulsa has a remembrance of Betsy Horowitz by her son Andrew. Betsy Horowitz was a Maple Ridge neighborhood activist who was part of the successful fight to stop construction of the Riverside Expressway through her neighborhood in the 1970s. She moved to the Dallas area a decade or so ago, and she passed away earlier this year.

I only met Mrs. Horowitz once and that only briefly -- her daughter Jean Ann was a classmate of mine at Holland Hall, and the Horowitz home in Maple Ridge was one of the sites of the Junior-Senior party. But I heard plenty about Betsy during the mid-seventies. It wasn't unusual for one or more Holland Hall parents or alumni to be serving on the City Commission or running for office, and my group of friends paid more attention to politics at every level than was usual for middle school boys. (On my bulletin board through the summer and fall of 1974: The list of candidates for state office from the Tulsa Tribune.)

What I knew about Betsy Horowitz was filtered through the local newspapers and the KRMG morning show. At best, these sources told me, Betsy was a joke, an overweight loudmouth. Her son Andrew mentions that people connected her with feminist Bella Abzug, an outspoken feminist of the day.

At worst, she was a dangerous obstructionist, standing in the path of progress. As a map-obsessed kid, I was all about seeing the dashed "proposed" lines on the map turn into broken, colored "under construction" lines and ultimately into solid, completed freeways. Anyone standing in the way of that was by definition a Bad Person, so it was easy for me to fall in with the conventional view.

I don't know if it was an actual news report or just a silly rumor that she had had her mouth wired shut as part of a liquid diet weight loss plan, but the conventional wisdom was that this was a good thing and wouldn't it be nice if it were permanent. (I'm not the only one who remembers this.)

My other vivid memory of Betsy's political career is her radio ad for one of her mayoral campaigns. A parody of Charlie Rich's crossover country hit, the lyric ran, "Betsy will stop what goes on behind closed doors." The ad communicated a problem that persists today at Tulsa's City Hall -- a hallmark, in fact, of Mayor Taylor's administration -- with deals being done behind the scenes and presented to the public and their representatives as a fait accompli for their ratification.

It's easy now to see that Betsy Horowitz was a valiant defender of neighborhoods against heedless destruction in the name of moving cars around. She and her allies not only stopped a freeway, but they made the renaissance of Maple Ridge possible and gave us the start of Tulsa's extensive trail system.

The Riverside Expressway's route was conceptualized in 1956, but firmly set in 1962. The expressway was planned to follow the Midland Valley Railroad right-of-way from Riverside Drive to the southeast interchange of the Inner Dispersal Loop. If you want to see the path of the expressway -- where the exits were planned, what buildings would have been sacrificed -- there's an atlas in the Central Library map case:

Comprehensive functional plans for the long range highway needs for Tulsa, Oklahoma; Tulsa metropolitan area expressway system. Prepared under the direction of the Oklahoma State Highway Dept. in cooperation with U.S. Dept. of Commerce, Bureau of Public Roads.

As you drive the boulevards of Maple Ridge today, it's easy to forget that the district was not always popular and beloved. In the post-war period, Tulsans of every class wanted new, and wealthy Tulsans built homes along the ridge to the south-southeast, toward Southern Hills Country Club. With an expressway planned, Maple Ridge homes could very well have followed the pattern of big, old homes in urban neighborhoods in other cities -- subdivision into apartments and slow decay. Many Maple Ridge homes were badly "wreckovated." It wasn't until the expressway was off the map that the cachet of Maple Ridge began to return.

The Goodbye Tulsa piece links to a Wayne Greene column about Betsy Horowitz in the Tulsa World from 2008 which begins:

Is it safe to say something nice about Betsy Horowitz yet?

She's been gone from Tulsa 11 years now. Has enough time passed that her many enemies -- and many, many friends -- are willing to listen to someone say she was right about at least one thing?

Evidently it takes being dead or at least long gone from Tulsa, and no longer a threat to anyone's big plans, before it's safe to credit a naysayer with being right. The same column points readers to Wayne Greene's blog entry explaining why it's OK to praise Betsy Horowitz's neighborhood activism while damning White City resident's opposition to the Tetched Mahal on the other side of I-244. (I have a feeling I'll get some grief over that epithet, but I think it's a good pun, so it stays.) There are certainly distinctions, but the arguments Greene puts forth in support of the activists who fought the Riverside Expressway would have been torn apart as obstructionist nonsense by his predecessors on the World editorial page.

At root, the White City and the Maple Ridge activists are both about trying to preserve the quality of life in a neighborhood against plans that sacrifice that quality of life for the sake of some presumed greater good. The usual arguments against the neighborhood are that the impact on quality of life won't be as great as the homeowners fear, that the homeowners are selfish for putting their own desires ahead of the needs of the general public, and that the plans have been on file at the "local planning department in Alpha Centauri for fifty of your Earth years, so you've had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it's far too late to start making a fuss about it now."

I'm reminded of World editorial writer Ken Neal's sendoff to Vince Sposato, a New York-born troublemaker like Betsy Horowitz, an opponent of urban renewal who was actually displaced by an expressway, and a frequent candidate for office. The World's obit states:

His love of politics was born from a love of people, according to his family.

In the 1950s, he championed civil rights and special educational needs. In the 1960s, he fought against urban renewal and the taking of people's homes without just compensation.

In 1974, Sposato found himself fighting for his own home. The city had condemned the property because it was needed for part of the construction of the Inner Dispersal Loop. Sposato eventually lost his fight for the house that he and his wife had owned for 22 years.

At the time, I advised the members of the Reform Alliance on the City Council, who were facing sharp criticism for not rolling over on the issue of suburban water service, not to hold their breath waiting for the approval of the Whirled: "If you want the Whirled to say something nice about you, drop dead."

It's interesting that both Horowitz and Sposato came to Tulsa from New York, where confrontation in politics and in daily life is a given. Tulsa needed, and still needs, dissidents who are willing to be pushy and willing to be called obnoxious. I'm sure they were told numerous times, as I've been told, that they needed to tone it down, work within the system, don't ruffle feathers, don't rub people the wrong way. They probably did try that, and they no doubt learned that playing nice only makes it easier for your cause to be ignored. And when you stand up for something and are persistent, you are going to be called angry, obsessed, rude, etc., even if you are as pleasant as can be. Every "troublemaker" on the City Council started out trying to work within the system, convinced that the previous troublemakers failed by not being nice enough.

A comment on one of the World stories, posted by a sometime commenter here, challenges the significance of Betsy Horowitz's leadership role in stopping the Riverside Expressway. I have no doubt that the legal challenge of which he writes was essential. But politics doesn't stop at the courthouse door, and without Horowitz's willingness to call public attention to the issue and to take a heap of ridicule as her pay, I doubt the court challenge would have been successful. (I would love to know more specifics about the court case.)

In the midst of ragweed season, I should mention one other significant contribution made by the Horowitz family to Tulsa's quality of life: Dr. Leon Horowitz, Betsy's husband, was a founder of the Allergy Clinic of Tulsa.

Wayne Greene wonders when it's safe to praise a naysayer. I'm wondering when it's permissible to fix blame on the individuals and institutions who, time and again, pushed schemes that the naysayers rightly warned against. Why do we never give due credit to those who were right and due blame to those who led us to disaster?

MORE: Tulsa District 7 City Councilor John Eagleton recalls that in 1968, after he was hit and dragged by a car as he was crossing 21st Street on his walk to Lee School, Betsy Horowitz took up the cause of school crossing safety and school zones. (He heard about this second-hand, as he spent the Summer of Love in a body cast.)

In my Ignite Tulsa talk on the "Greenwood Gap," I mentioned in passing the physical indications of the rebuilding and flourishing of Tulsa's African-American district after it was burned in 1921 by a white mob. I would have included photos of some of those signs, and I had some that I'd taken, but I couldn't find them, so earlier today I took some more, finding dates on buildings, on cornerstones, and on commemorative plaques that tell the story of Greenwood's post-1921 resurgence. (Click that link to view the set on Flickr.)

The churches, and the dates on their cornerstones, beg the question: If there wasn't a rebuilt neighborhood nearby, why were the churches rebuilt there? (Further, why did congregations build newer fancier buildings in the late '50s and early '60s?) (NOTE: In the olden days, churches were built in neighborhoods and people traveled short distances to church. They weren't set up like consumer-oriented big-box stores with huge parking lots, isolated from neighborhoods.)

Here's the Williams Building at 102 N. Greenwood Ave., rebuilt in 1922, after the building previously on that site was destroyed by the riot. Note the year above the name of the building.

After the jump, you'll see the plaque set in the sidewalk next to the building, and two more plaques -- one on the entrance to the Mabel B. Little Heritage House and the other on the entrance to the Greenwood Cultural Center.

Thanks to the organizers, speakers, and audience for last night's Ignite Tulsa event. It was a great experience, and I only wish I could have stayed through the entire program -- family needs called me home shortly after I spoke. I'm happy I had the chance to come back to the afterparty and chat with many very interesting folks. More to say about the total Ignite Tulsa experience later.

Someone asked if the source material for my talk is online. A lot of it is already, in past BatesLine entries. I plan to post links to key articles and go into detail on my sources. For now, if you're impatient, Google Greenwood on this site.

When an OSU professor wrote a response to my 2007 column on the Greenwood gap, challenging the factual basis for what I wrote and my conclusions, I responded by detailing my sources, which may be of interest here (this is the original reply, not the edited version that appeared in the paper):

I'm always pleased to know that someone has given one of my columns a close and critical reading, as OSU Political Science Professor J. S. Maloy has done with my column on the rise and fall of the Greenwood district. This aspect of Tulsa history is important but overlooked, so I welcome his interest. I empathize with his disappointment that so little of Greenwood remains. My column was an attempt to use available evidence to explain why things are the way they are.

The issues he raises deserve a detailed and specific discussion: Which level of government is to blame for Greenwood's second destruction; whether Greenwood was rebuilt after the riot and how the reconstruction was funded; whether local officials in 1921 took a free market approach to rebuilding Greenwood; the role of racism in the city's treatment of Greenwood; and whether the free market is to blame for the lack of progress in Greenwood since urban renewal.

I agree with Maloy that what our city has done to Greenwood is a self-inflicted wound. I should have made it more clear that city officials made the decisions to route I-244 through the heart of Greenwood and to bulldoze most of the rest of it in the name of urban renewal. The Federal Government only supplied the funds to carry out the city's plans.

Prof. Maloy expresses doubt that Greenwood was fully restored following the riot. An examination of the sources I used in researching my column will confirm that it was.

He can read for himself the recorded memories of Greenwood residents contained in the books I cited: Black Wall Street, by Hannibal Johnson, and They Came Searching, by Eddie Faye Gates, both residents of Tulsa and active in the community.

He can visit the mapping department of the Indian Nations Council of Governments (INCOG), 201 W. 5th St., Suite 600, and view historical aerial photographs, such as the one from 1951 which ran with my column.

He can go to the 4th floor of Central Library and page through the shelf of Polk City Directories and Cole Cross Reference Directories, dating back to 1911, which list residences and businesses street by street, ordered by house number. With the help of a pre-1960 street map (urban renewal destroyed much of the street grid), he can trace the year-by-year evolution of commercial avenues like Greenwood and Lansing and the district's more residential side streets.

He can explore the Sanborn Fire Maps, which document location, footprint, number of stories, and types of buildings for use in fire insurance risk assessment. They were kept up to date until the early '60s as buildings were built and demolished.

Maps for the entire state are available to cardholders on the Tulsa Library website (http://www.tulsalibrary.org:2048/login?url=http ://sanborn.umi.com).

Select the map set for Tulsa that says 1915-July 1926 (that's a typo -- it's really July 1962), and then take a look at sheets 9, 33, 50, 55, 82, 90, and 91. An earlier map set, dated 1915, will illustrate what Greenwood was like in the years before the riot.

Maloy mentions Tee's Barber Shop, located in one of the handful of Deep Greenwood buildings that were spared from urban renewal. The next time he's there, he should notice the markers in the sidewalk which show where businesses were located before the riot. He'll see that many of the markers contain the words "reopened" and "rebuilt."

If he'll walk to the corner of Greenwood and Archer and look up to the west, he'll see the year "1922" -- a year after the riot -- carved above the name "WILLIAMS BLDG." The plaque in the sidewalk explains that Williams, who also owned the Dreamland Theater across the street, was the first to rebuild all of his properties after the riot.

So if we can agree that Greenwood was fully rebuilt after the riot, the question becomes how.

Maloy is correct that there was very little aid from the government and white charities. It makes it all the more impressive that the African-American community was able to rebuild, but they were determined and they did. African-Americans in other cities raised money to assist Greenwood's reconstruction, and Greenwood's own residents worked, scrimped, saved, provided mutual assistance, and expended sweat equity to rebuild.

Maloy is incorrect in stating that city officials in 1921 took a laissez-faire attitude toward Greenwood. The democratically-elected City Commission of the time tried to use government regulation -- a fire ordinance -- to prevent Greenwood residents from rebuilding. Attorneys from the community challenged the ordinance and won an injunction, clearing the way for reconstruction. (Joe Lockett v. the City of Tulsa -- see pp. 87-88 of Scott Ellsworth's Death in a Promised Land.)

Maloy says that I overlook the role of racism in the history of Greenwood, but I think my references to segregation, racist mobs of white looters, and a city government that wanted to remove blacks to a new district beyond the city limits point clearly enough to the racism behind those actions.

Some urban renewal advocates may well have been motivated by racism, but some proponents were well-intentioned progressive activists trying to bridge the gap between Tulsa's black and white communities. The story of Tulsa's Model Cities program deserves to be explored in depth, and I would welcome the chance to talk to those with first-hand knowledge.

Finally, Prof. Maloy wants to know why the "Do-It-Yourself approach" which worked to rebuild Greenwood after the 1921 riot hasn't worked in the 40 years since urban renewal and the construction of I-244.

It's simple: After 1921, the land remained in private ownership, and the victims of the riot could rebuild what had been burned down.

But in the '60s and '70s, urban renewal took the land out of private ownership. Most of the south end of the district is still owned by some government entity. The urban renewal authority has sold some of the land in the northern part back to private owners, but mainly for residential and industrial development. There is no land available for new commercial development.

For example, if you wanted to rebuild the Holloway Building at 350 N. Greenwood Av. (home, in 1957, to Holloway's Hardware and Appliances, Holloway Dental Laboratory, a doctor's office, and an advertising and painting company), you'd have to fill in a pond, and you'd have to get permission from Prof. Maloy's employer. OSU-Tulsa controls all of Deep Greenwood north of I-244, with the exception of two churches and the City's Greenwood Cultural Center.

The commercial buildings between King and Pine Streets (including the Rex Theater) which faced Greenwood were cleared by urban renewal and replaced with suburban homes facing the side streets, many of which have been turned into cul-de-sacs. Only a few churches, Carver Middle School, the old Public Library (now a Unitarian Church), and a few homes remain from the pre-urban renewal days.

City officials created an industrial park out of the area between the Midland Valley and Santa Fe tracks and south of Pine, which once had been residential and commercial. (It had its own movie theater, the Regal, on Lansing Ave.) Morning Star Baptist Church and Hutcherson YMCA are about the only buildings in that area that survived urban renewal.

There is one part of Deep Greenwood which might yet be redeveloped, south of I-244 and northeast of Archer and Elgin. It is owned by the Tulsa Development Authority (the renamed urban renewal authority). There have been proposals for mixed-use development on that site, but the TDA has yet to approve any of them, to the consternation of many north Tulsa community leaders.

Maloy objects to comparing Greenwood to Cherry Street and Brookside. Contrary to his assumptions, big developers didn't produce the rebirth of those neighborhood commercial districts. Along with the adjoining residential areas they went through a period of decline before their rediscovery and renovation. About 20 years ago, aspiring small business owners looking for a place to operate found cheap and often run-down storefront space in the old buildings along Peoria and 15th Street. If Greenwood had been left standing, it too might have been rediscovered.

Prof. Maloy concludes by saying that "the free market will always indulge racism, ignorance, fear, and sheer pettiness of spirit in the name of profits. Only a democratic process--public investment constrained by public consultation--can do better."

But world history is full of examples of a majority oppressing a minority by means of the power conveyed by democratic processes, often by limiting the minority's ability to own property and to buy and sell freely.

It was a democratically elected (and Democrat-controlled) legislature that created Oklahoma's racist Jim Crow laws. Democratically elected officials abetted the pillaging and burning of Greenwood in 1921 and tried to block its reconstruction.

Private individuals, businesses, and churches rebuilt Greenwood after the riot. A democratically elected city government, using public funds, demolished almost all of it in the name of urban renewal. Admittedly, the democratic process was distorted because city officials at the time were elected on an at-large basis, but nevertheless the tyranny of the majority, not the free market, was at work.

The evidence is there for Prof. Maloy's perusal, if he cares to look.

Michael D. Bates

If you've ever wondered, "Is Michael Bates capable of expressing himself concisely?" you and I will both have a chance to find out tomorrow night, Thursday, September 17, 2009, at Ignite Tulsa. The event will be held from 7 to 9 p.m. at the Blue Dome Diner, at 313 E. 2nd St., between Detroit and Elgin Aves. Admission is free, but Répondez, S'il Vous Plait.

Ignite Tulsa is a series of five-minute presentations on a variety of topics. Each speaker will have a slideshow with 20 slides, automatically advancing at 15 second intervals. Here's the list of presenters and topics (alphabetically by presenter's last name):

• Be Nice. Don't be Rude or Sad by Chris Barton
• The Greenwood Gap: Mythbusting pop history with contemporary documents by Michael Bates
• How Not to be Waldo: Brands that Stand Out in a Crowd by Emily Campbell
• Salvation in the Stacks: Tips, Rants, and a Patriotic Finale from a "Librarian 2.0" by Sarah Clark
• If someone gives you roses you should be pissed off by Matthew Galloway
• Visual Thinking: Boost Your Creative IQ by Sean Griffin
• P2P Anti-Piracy: A Skunk Works History given by Dr. John Hale
• Fighting Global Warming with Green Building by Craig Immel
• Why Truth is Overrated by Jeff Martin
• Top Ten Venture Capital Lies by William Paiva
• The iPhone & Future of Art & VisCom In Tulsa by Ray Pearcey
• Get your Head in the Cloud: Creating a lean organization by leveraging cloud computing by Nathan Phelps
• How to tell your boss to %@$# Off! by Scott Phillips
• Challenging Yourself by Geoffrey Thomas Simpson
• The United Linen Story - how to market a 20th century company in the 21st century by Scott Townsend
• Keeping Up with the Online Joneses by Brad Vernon
• Brain Research in Tulsa by William R. Yates, MD

I'll be talking about the post-1921 history of Greenwood and the sources of information that can debunk historical myths and tell us about the mostly-vanished African-American city-within-a-city. (I covered this topic in my June 13, 2007, column, "The Rise and Fall of Greenwood," but there will be some new angles and info in Thursday's talk.)

TulsaGal has been posting scans of past Tulsa ephemera on her blog. The latest scan is of a little 16-page magazine called This Week in Tulsa, December 31, 1948 edition. Recently she posted a copy of the competing magazine, The Downtowner, from March 19, 1948. The magazines had ads for nightlife, restaurants, theaters, and more mundane retailers. Where possible, she's ferreted out photos from the Beryl Ford Collection of the places that advertised in the two magazines.

As an interesting point of comparison, Iowahawk has scans of a similar, but much racier, 16-pager serving the Chicago convention business: The April 3, 1959, edition of Night Life in Chicago.

MORE FUN TULSA EPHEMERA: Irritated Tulsan has a promotional flyer for Scene2News from the 1970s, handed out at the Tulsa State Fair, featuring Jack Morris, Jerry Webber, and John Hudson. When I see a clock that shows 10 pm, sometimes there's a voice that booms out in my head, "IT'S TEN O'CLOCK! JACK MORRIS NEWS TIME!"

Links of interest from around Tulsa and nearby:

Jim Hartz went exploring around the old KOME studios at 8th and Main and took some photos. KOME 1300 was one of Tulsa's five AM stations back in the '50s, and in 1958 it was the station that sent Rocky Frisco, then known as Rocky Curtiss, on a bike ride to Ft. Hood, Texas, to interview Elvis Presley, who was going through Army basic training at the time.

Speaking of Rocky Frisco, he is a candidate for Tulsa City Council District 4 and in September will be inducted into the Oklahoma Music Hall of Fame. Here's a very interesting biographical interview with Rocky -- a bit of music, a bit of local history, a bit of politics.)

Natasha Ball went to the Ottawa County Fair and has written a letter of complaint.

Tyson and Jeane Wynn are moving their business, Wynn-Wynn Media, from Claremore back to their hometown of Welch, in Craig County. They've located in a storefront on Main Street. The relocation allows them to be closer to Jeane's parents. It's made possible by the spread of high-speed internet to rural America, so they can pursue their line of work (working with Christian authors) as well from Welch as from anywhere else. (Some of my ancestors -- the Newmans -- spent some time in the vicinity of Welch, and my great-grandparents, Carl Everett and Icy Newman Bates, are buried in the cemetery west of town.)

Tulsa Food Blog visited Shiloh's and loved it. (That bottle of red stuff -- strawberry-rhubarb jam -- try it on your homemade rolls.) Here's Shiloh's website.

Jeff Shaw has pulled ahead of me in the race to retroblog our vacations. He's up to day four in San Antonio. (I'm still stuck at 5 pm on day 3.)

Tulsa TV veteran Lee Woodward has some of his artwork available for view on Flickr.

NMcruiserchick worked for the Peaches Records and Tapes store at 52nd and Sheridan back in 1979-1982, and she has lots of photos to prove it.

David Schuttler notes a survey showing that many airports are concerning themselves with their impact on areas beyond the 65 dB noise level zone. Is Tulsa, he wonders? And David has some beautiful lightning pictures from last week.

Steven Roemerman has some new lyrics with which to scratch the cognitive itch (aka "earworm") known as "Girl from Ipanema."

Be sure to visit Historic Tulsa for more photos and stories of our city's wonderful collection historic buildings.

Some Tulsa State Fair history: Chris Miyata has posted a set of photos and scans of the Tulsa County Fairgrounds in the mid-1960s. There are photos of the IPE Building (now the QuikTrip Center) at the Tulsa State Fairgrounds and scans from a 1964 booklet highlighting 15 years of improvements to the Tulsa State Fair. The highlight is a stunning aerial color photo of the IPE Building near completion, with a very small Bell's Amusement Park to the west. Look for the Bell's giant globe, the water towers, and the KELi satellite.

NOTE: The Down on Main Street festival was originally scheduled for May but was rained out, and it's been rescheduled for this Saturday.

This coming Saturday (August 8, 2009) from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., old downtown Red Fork will be home to a "Down on Main Street" festival. Red Fork was a separate town once upon a time, annexed into the City of Tulsa circa 1927. It's now home to the first "Main Street" program within the City of Tulsa.

Oklahoma has had an active and successful Main Street program for many years, encouraging restoration of historic buildings and the commercial revitalization of dozens of small-town downtowns across the state.

The Main Street program is not just for small towns. Oklahoma City has four active Main Street programs: Stockyards City, Capitol Hill, Plaza District, and Eastside Capitol Gateway; Automobile Alley used to be on the list, too. When I asked City of Tulsa officials back in the late '90s about starting it up here, the responses were oddly reluctant, as if such a thing might get in the way of tearing buildings down.

At long last, two years ago, Red Fork became the first Main Street program in the city, with hopes of bringing Southwest Blvd -- old Route 66 -- back to life. The Down on Main Street festival is part of the program to promote the area and bring the community together. From the festival flier, here are the events planned:

• Pie contest
• Ollie's Restaurant's Blue Plate Special
• Live music
• Global Garden's Kids' Zone
• Art show
• Farmers market with a Westside charm

The festival will take place along Southwest Blvd. near 41st St. Parking and Shuttles will be available at Webster High School, 1919 West 40th Street., and OSU Women's Center, 2345 Southwest Blvd.

The deadline to enter the pie contest is TODAY (August 3, 2009). You must have your entry form and a $5 fee to the Red Fork Main Street office, 3708 Southwest Blvd, by 5 p.m. Click here for a form and more details.

Here's hoping for good weather for Saturday's Down on Main Street festival.

Bill Miller has launched a blog devoted to the history of Tulsa and, in particular, to the history of Tulsa's buildings.

Most of the entries on the Historic Tulsa blog are about a particular building -- some well-known (Riverside Studio / Spotlight Theater), but many that are obscure (e.g., the William D. Whenthoff residence, a streamline Art Deco design by Joseph Koberling on College Ave. south of 11th Street).

If you're into Tulsa history, you'll want to add Historic Tulsa blog to your feed reader.

bobwills.com, the official Bob Wills website, has launched a podcast called Bob Wills Radio, hosted by Jim Goff. Each episode features music and excerpts from interviews with members of the Texas Playboys. New episodes will go up each Monday at noon.

The inaugural edition features a 1983 interview with steel guitar legend Leon McAuliffe. Leon talks about how he came to play steel guitar, how he became a part of the Texas Playboys back in 1935, his friendship with Tex Beneke, and the beginnings of his band in Tulsa after World War II. His first band was a horn-dominated swing band, designed to set him apart from the western swing bands around. After touring the local dance circuit, Leon found that the audiences expected him to play western swing, so he canned the horns, hired some fiddle players, and switched back to western swing. (Harlequin Records has a disc of the big band version of Leon McAuliffe's band, from 1946-8.)

Toward the end of the podcast, there's a version of "T-U-L-S-A Straight Ahead," sung by Leon and backed by the Original Texas Playboys, the band made up of Bob Wills sidemen that performed from the mid-70s to the mid-80s. (For some reason, recordings of the Original Texas Playboys are really hard to find.)

Also on the bobwills.com website, you can purchase for download a 36-minute interview with Bob Wills recorded in 1949. Before you buy, you can hear a three-minute excerpt in which Bob Wills talks about their first dances at Cain's Ballroom, what kind of music you'd hear at Cain's before the Texas Playboys took up residence, and why they had to buy Cain's from Mr. & Mrs. Cain. (They started out at the Playmor, NW corner of 2nd and Madison, a second-floor dance hall -- retail below -- about half the size of Cain's.)

A browser crash took out a bunch of edits to a post about my recent trip to southern California, and I'm in no mood to recreate all that now.

So crack open a Mulo and visit Irritated Tulsan and his collection of vintage ads from summers past, including one for the Kip's Big Boy at 11th and Trenton. He's got some pretty neon photos, too, and he wants your favorite memories of Bell's Amusement Park.

Modern Tulsa has a photographic recap of the "Living in Hi-Fi Tour" of Lortondale's mid-century modern homes.

Holly Wall has a guest post up at Tasha Does Tulsa reporting on Thirsty Thursday at Drillers Stadium.

A fascinating new blog, Tulsa Gal, focuses on Tulsa history. Nancy is a researcher and volunteer for the Tulsa Historical Society.

Finally, make your blood boil with the Infrastructurist's then-and-now photos of beautiful train stations that met the wrecking ball.

Notes about demolition and neglect, here and elsewhere:

From the Beryl Ford Collection/Rotary Club of Tulsa, Tulsa City-County Library and Tulsa Historical Society.

Red Fork's oldest remaining high school building is to be demolished. The 1925 building served for most of its history as Clinton Middle School, but when first built it was the high school for the Red Fork district, which was previously located on the Park Elementary campus, which dates back to 1908. (The Park high school was built in 1918, according to the Sanborn map, but has been gone for decades.) Clinton continued as a high school until 1938, when Daniel Webster High School opened. This story tells about the time capsule discovered in its cornerstone:

When officials took down the cornerstone, they found a copper box not much bigger than a car stereo in a gap in the brick wall.

In it, they found a small U.S. flag with 48 stars, several yellowed copies of The Tulsa Tribune newspaper, and lists of members of the Order of the Eastern Star, Red Fork Masons, Red Fork school board members and faculty and staff members at Clinton, which was a high school in 1925.

The Tulsa Public Schools website has a slide show and high resolution images of some of the objects in the Clinton Middle School cornerstone.

The first time I found my way onto W. 41st Street many years ago, I was impressed and amazed by the civic buildings along this half-mile stretch between Union Ave. and Southwest Blvd:Trinity Baptist Church, Pleasant Porter School (originally Clinton Public Grade School), sited in a shady grove of tall trees, Clinton Middle School, and the Clinton Memorial First Baptist Church of Red Fork -- each had a certain dignity that marked Red Fork not as a suburb, but as a town in its own right. The old Baptist Church was demolished to make way for the new Clinton Middle School; now the old school is being torn down after 84 years of service.

(Here's some more historical information on the Clinton family and the school that stood on their old homestead.)

Four miles north-northeast, someone has taken photos of the interior of the Tulsa Club building, on the northwest corner of 5th and Cincinnati. The art deco building has been left to rot, unsecured, by its current owner, and it has become the target of graffiti vandals who seem to know that no one cares. I've been in the building twice: Once for the school prom ("Dutchman Weekend") my sophomore year in high school, and once just after the Tulsa Club shut down for good and the fixtures were auctioned off. There are hints of what once was, but the interior is pretty well trashed.

On to Detroit, where the last vestiges of old Tiger Stadium, aka Briggs Stadium, are being demolished for no good reason. The infield stands still stood, and preservationists had been working successfully to raise funds to preserve them, maintain the diamond as a community ball field, and use the stadium structure as a museum to house broadcaster Ernie Harwell's collection of memorabilia. Despite the progress of preservationists in raising funds, the Detroit City Council decided to turn even more of their once-bustling city into flat nothingness.

Neil de Mause explains what made Tiger Stadium special and worth saving:

Tiger Stadium is now the last surviving example of an old-style upper deck overhang. Yankee Stadium will be gone shortly; Fenway Park doesn't have an upper deck to speak of; and Wrigley Field, for all its charms, has a top deck set way back from the action. That leaves the sliver of stands still standing in Detroit as the only place in the world where baseball fans will be able to experience what was once commonplace: cheap seats that, thanks the miracle of cantilevering and the willingness to make some field-level patrons sit in the shade, are closer to the field of play than all but the priciest field-level seats at modern stadia -- stunningly close at Tiger, where Tom Boswell famously wrote that sitting in the upper deck behind home plate and watching Jack Morris pitch enabled him to truly learn the importance of changing speeds.

I saw a game there once. In 1988, my last full summer of bachelorhood, my friend Rick Koontz and I went on a week-long "Rust Belt Tour" that took us to Wrigley Field, Comiskey Park (the original one), Tiger Stadium, Cleveland Municipal Stadium ("the mistake by the lake"), and Riverfront Stadium. 21 years later, only Wrigley still stands. We had great seats to watch the Tigers play the Yankees, a game the Tigers won, 7-6 in the bottom of the ninth, a six-run inning that concluded with an Allan Trammell grand slam home run. It was the most exciting game of the trip, and a great place to watch a game. (It was also the night the Pistons lost to the Lakers in Game 7 of the NBA finals. We were relieved, given Detroit's reputation for violent celebrations.)

National Trust for Historic Preservation president Richard Moe writes of Tiger Stadium:

Demolishing the stadium is a mistake. Even in its diminished, partly demolished state, the stadium served as a defining feature of the historic Corktown neighborhood-a reminder of better days, but also a cornerstone for future revitalization of the community. Redevelopment of this iconic historic place for, among other things, youth baseball leagues, could transform it back into the thriving center of community activity that it once was. Now, city leaders have chosen a course that will in all likelihood lead to yet another empty lot in Detroit-the last thing the city needs.

More from the National Trust for Historic Preservation on Tiger Stadium's demolition:

Despite a protest at Tiger Stadium last week, Detroit contractors began razing the 1923 structure the following day. Late Friday afternoon, a judge issued a temporary restraining order, which should have halted all destruction, but crews continued demolition until the end of the day.

On Monday Wayne County Circuit Judge Prentis Edwards lifted the restraining order and rejected the conservancy's request for the injunction.

"[Demolition crews] were out there an hour after the decision. They didn't waste any time," says Michael Kirk, vice president of the Old Tiger Stadium Conservancy, which requested a permanent injunction to halt the demolition. "We don't understand it. There's no other development deal pending for the site, so the need for speed doesn't make any sense."

City attorneys argued that the conservancy could not raise enough for the $27 million construction project to retain Navin Field, the oldest part of the existing stadium complex.

Plans to demolish the remaining section of the old stadium were set back in motion after a 7-1 vote on Tuesday, June 2, by the board of Detroit's Economic Development Corporation. Waymon Guillebreaux, executive vice president, said in a statement last week that the Old Tiger Stadium Conservancy "is still far short of its targets" agreed upon in a memorandum of understanding with the city that was signed last fall and claimed the conservancy did not have "secure commitments for funding the project."

The board acted despite $3.8 million earmarked by Sen. Carl Levin (D-Mich.) for the Old Tiger Stadium Conservancy's plan; an identified $19 million from new market, "brownfield," and state and federal historic tax credits (some of which were already applied for and approved); and $500,000 in grants, loans and private donations.

Lowell Boileau, a painter, created a website in the late '90s called The Fabulous Ruins of Detroit, a site that contains hundreds of images of abandoned and now-demolished buildings, including abandoned suburban buildings that took the place of previously abandoned urban buildings.

Zimbabwe, El Tajin, Athens, Rome: Now, as for centuries, tourists behold those ruins with awe and wonder. Yet today, a vast and history laden ruin site passes unnoticed, even despised, into oblivion.

Come, travel with me, as I guide you on a tour through the fabulous and vanishing ruins of my beloved Detroit.

It's a tour worth taking -- well-organized with an "express" path that hits the highlights, and "detours" that allow deeper exploration.

Sadly, at a time when mainstream public support for historic preservation is growing, the National Trust for Historic Preservation has decided to squander its hard-won credibility by turning its blog over to the promotion of "gay pride" during the month of June, in a series of posts that have nothing to do with preserving and protecting historic buildings. (One exception: There is a post about preservation in West Hollywood; the "gay" connection is that it was written by a preservationist drag queen.) The latest example is this essay on "gayborhoods" entitled "Pardon Me Sir, But Can I Queer Your Space." This is a classic example of a venerable organization being hijacked to serve someone's personal agenda rather than the cause for which it was founded.

There are a couple of tours happening in and around Tulsa this weekend that may tickle your fancy:

An all-day bus tour of historic all-black towns will take place this Saturday, from 7 am to 5 pm. Freed slaves from the Muscogee (Creek) Nation founded a number of towns south and east of Tulsa around the turn of the 20th century. Other towns were established in the newly opened Oklahoma Territory at the end of the 19th century as part of a black statehood movement.

The tour is $30. For information and to make reservations call 918-596-7280. (Found via TheMidtowner.)

This New York Times story is a good introduction to Oklahoma's all-black towns. Alison Zarrow has made her photoessay on Oklahoma's black towns, Wish You Were Here, available online.

This Saturday evening, 5:30 to 8:30 pm, the Modern Tulsa committee of the Tulsa Foundation for Architecture is hosting a tour of homes in the mid-century modern neighborhood of Lortondale, east of Yale Ave. between 26th and 28th Streets.

Designed and built in 1954 by Tulsa duo Donald Honn (architect) and Howard Grubb (builder), the Lortondale Neighborhood was the recipient of a multitude of national design awards. The neighborhood was featured in an array of magazines including House and Home and Better Homes and Gardens.

In recent years Lortondale has experienced something of a rebirth. A new generation of homeowners, interested in modern design, are snapping up the houses just as fast as they come on the market. After decades of neglect, many of the houses in the neighborhood are being restored to their former modern glory. Most importantly, the Lortondale Community is experiencing the same restoration.

This year's tour seeks to convey the energy that is the Lortondale Neighborhood today. Featured are 6 houses in various stages of completion. From the beginning stages of a restoration to a virtually complete example of HiFi-modern bliss, this tour of Lortondale will show you what all the buzz is about.

Tickets are $10 in advance, $15 the day of the tour, and available at Dwelling Spaces, Urban Furnishings, Ida Red Boutique, and the Tulsa Foundation for Architecture office. All the details are available at the Modern Tulsa website.

The tour is self-paced. You can start at any home and purchase a ticket at the first house you visit:

• 4912 E. 26th Terrace
• 5331 E. 26th Pl.
• 5342 E. 26th Pl.
• 4953 E. 27th St.
• 4958 E. 27th St.
• 5312 E. 27th St.

There's an ongoing online tour you can follow vicariously. A family is visiting all 77 of Oklahoma's counties, taking photos, and recounting their travels. You can follow their progress on the 77 Counties blog. (The latest entries will also be linked on the BatesLine Oklahoma headlines page.)

I'm in the throes of a major effort at work and only have time to throw you a few links to good reading elsewhere:

For your viewing pleasure, Tulsa TV Memories links to the Life archive and photos from February 1952 of KOTV general manager Helen Alvarez. Besides photos of the lovely Mrs. Alvarez, the archive shows the Channel 6 news, weather, and sports sets of the day, plus photos from the Sun Refinery and of a powwow. (Does this qualify as a Rule 5 post?)

Irritated Tulsan discovers that the Boulder Ave. bridge is safe enough -- for the crane that's demolishing it.

Steve Roemerman has posted a new podcast, reacting to Councilor G. T. Bynum's comments during last week's ballpark assessment vote.

Chris Medlock has a new podcast up, reacting to comments about city election "reform" made by former Mayor Susan Savage. And he talks to State Sen. Randy Brogdon about the legislative session and the gubernatorial campaign.

I was sad to learn of the death of Beryl Ford, the collector of historic Tulsa photographs and ephemera. Ford was 83. Every Tulsan with a desire to understand our city's past owes him an immense debt of gratitude.

I can't find words strong enough to explain how important his life's work is to our ability to understand Tulsa history. The Beryl Ford Collection, now in the hands of the Tulsa Historical Society thanks to the Rotary Club of Tulsa, is an irreplaceable part of our city's collective memory. The earliest years of Tulsa are no longer a part of living memory, but Ford's collection gives us some idea of what it was like. The Ford collection shows us central Tulsa at its post-war peak. It also shows us its dismantling.

Increasingly, baby boomers have to turn to the Ford collection to see the places we remember from our 1950s and 1960s childhoods, as mid-century businesses are lost to highway expansion, redevelopment, and renovation.

The collective memory is a tricky thing. We develop myths about how things used to be and how they came to be the way they are now. (E.g., "the Greenwood gap".) For Tulsa the Beryl Ford Collection, alongside other contemporaneous records like phone books, street directories, and newspapers, helps to correct the false memories and the false explanations they engender.

Mr. Ford's passing is a reminder of the work that still needs to be done to make the most of what he left us. I still hope to see high resolution scans put online with Flickr Commons, so they can be geocoded, tagged, and described in detail.

Here is a link to past BatesLine items that make reference to the Beryl Ford Collection.

MORE: From the comments, a tribute from Mark Sanders, one of Beryl Ford's cousins:

Thanks, Michael, for honoring Beryl Ford on your blog. We do owe him a debt of gratitude. As you know, Beryl was my second cousin, and my own fascination with Tulsa history is due in large measure to my access to Beryl's collection while he still owned it.

Tulsans should understand and appreciate that Beryl's relentless collecting - particularly at times when preservation of historical assets was not a culturally-valued pursuit, i.e. the 1970s - was motivated solely by his love for Tulsa and the highest ideals of preservation. The pursuit of financial gain was never part of his personal agenda. As he began to feel his own mortality in recent years, he looked to place the Collection, not with the highest bidder(s), but with an institution that would keep it together and make it readily available to the citizens of Tulsa. I, like you, trust that the Historical Society and Library will do all that is required to make this collection a powerful and accessible historical resource. One of the tragedies of Beryl's passing is that we have now lost the Collection's most capable geocoder/tagger/describer. Hopefully, other old-timers and students of Tulsa history will step up to that important task.

Finally, Tulsans should know something of the character of Beryl Ford, and the intensity of his affection - and that of the entire Ford family - for Tulsa. Beryl is a life-long Tulsan, but the Ford family's roots in Tulsa came about quite by happenstance. In the 1910s, when Beryl's father, Jewell (then a teenager), ran away from the family farm near Sallisaw, his grandfather (my great-grandfather), Nathaniel, followed up a rumored sighting in Tulsa, and took a train there - intent , literally, to walk the streets until he found his son. It wasn't necessary - within 2 blocks of the train station he met him on the street. Jewell immediately regaled his father with stories of ample construction job opportunities in Tulsa's booming economy. Nathaniel - who was a pioneer of the Pentecostal movement in Oklahoma - took all this as a sign that the family should move to Tulsa. So he returned to the farm, put the draft animals on a railcar and moved the household to Tulsa to begin a horse-driven excavation business. Some of Tulsa's existing landmark buildings, and - sadly - some that are now surface parking, were Ford excavated.

Beryl, like most of the other Fords, made his living in the building trades. He was never part of Tulsa's ruling class or social elite, but he made a contribution to Tulsa's history every bit as meaningful as that of any storied oil baron or newspaper publisher. And like the most of the rest of his family, he lived simply (in Tulsa's McClure Park neighborhood), valuing faith, family and community over the accumulation of wealth and status.

May he rest in peace; and may we all follow his fine civic example.

From the City of Tulsa Planning Department, notice of a meeting to gather public input on how best to use Tulsa's share of federal historic preservation funds:

The Tulsa Preservation Commission invites Tulsans to participate in the development of the City of Tulsa's Annual Certified Local Government Program.

A meeting will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, May 14, 2009 to receive public input. The meeting will be held on the 10th Floor of City Hall @ One Technology Center, located at 175 E. 2nd Street in downtown Tulsa. Parking is available at the southeast corner of 2nd & Cincinnati.

A portion of the U.S. Department of the Interior's Historic Preservation Fund is allocated for participation in the Certified Local Governments program. Each year, the Tulsa Preservation Commission uses this money to facilitate preservation within our City. Citizens can provide assistance in identifying ways to best use the 2009-2010 funds.

Funds can be used for such projects as:

• Inventory and/or National Register Nomination of historic resources within the community;
• Increasing public awareness of historic preservation; and
• Preparing amendments or updates to the Tulsa Historic Preservation Plan and Historic Preservation zoning program.

With your support we can continue to build on Tulsa's preservation achievements.

Please contact Amanda DeCort, City of Tulsa Planning Department, at (918) 576-5669 for more information.

Here's a very insightful comment by someone with the handle "innercityartisan," posted next to my column about the PLANiTULSA small-area workshop for Forest Orchard, about the way expressways and other barriers to pedestrian and auto traffic on surface streets can blight a neighborhood. It also provides a picture of living in and near downtown a generation ago. (Emphasis added.)

I was there at the meeting. And I grew up in this area in the 50's and 60's. The more I think about the idea of removing the east leg of the IDL, the more I like it!

As kids, we walked or took the bus downtown to the movies. I walked to Central H. S., my gym class played field hockey in Central Park. At noon we students ran around a very busy downtown for lunch and did all our teenage shopping in the department stores and record store. We knew all the "secret" ways to get from one building to the next and across alleys. We were at home downtown, we felt safe and in a way we were supervised by the tens of thousands of people that lived and worked in the inner city.

My grandfather, a geologist, had his office in the Mid-Continent Building. We went to parades, enjoyed the Christmas lights and explored eateries with him.

I am now involved with the Pearl District and where I grew up and work in my home between the Gunboat Parks within the IDL. I am also involved with the Brady Arts District and the East Village at 3rd and Lansing. All these areas suffer because of the "Great Divide."

As has been recognized by other more recognized writers and activists, any city area that runs up against a large "dead" tract of land such as an expressway right-of-way, with no through foot traffic, tends to die and shrivel away. Large parking lots such as those around Hillcrest Hospital or cul-de-sacs and turnarounds that stop through traffic and long chain link fences can mean blight to a neighborhood.

After all, how can your neighborhood become an area that people discover and want to visit or live in if no one ever goes into or through it? And how can you feel safe living, walking or playing with no one around to keep an eye on things?

The only people to "discover" the Brady district have come for events at Cain's and the Old Lady on Brady and most of them don't stay. The Brady area is not so "alive" with activity in many continuous storefronts that a person can feel completely safe walking alone at night. Few people live there. Visitors don't tend to stop and explore. Hopefully the Ball Stadium will increase the number of buildings and residents.

I'm concerned that the vision for the Pearl District with shops and restaurants, small grocery stores, dry cleaners etc. will not happen in development areas placed next to the IDL. This condition also effects the "East Village" or "East End" which is directly across the IDL from the Pearl district. And yet these two neighborhoods could exponentially increase, the interest, excitement and potential resources available for walking residents and visitors if they were actually more connected and accessible to each other. The existing few overpasses between these areas feel long, exposed and very windy!

Get rid of the IDL or cross it with overpasses that have buildings on them. Something that encourages people to hang out and provide a friendly safe environment.

This coming Saturday (May 2, 2009) from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., old downtown Red Fork will be home to a "Down on Main Street" festival. Red Fork was a separate town once upon a time, annexed into the City of Tulsa circa 1927. It's now home to the first "Main Street" program within the City of Tulsa.

Oklahoma has had an active and successful Main Street program for many years, encouraging restoration of historic buildings and the commercial revitalization of dozens of small-town downtowns across the state.

The Main Street program is not just for small towns. Oklahoma City has four active Main Street programs: Stockyards City, Capitol Hill, Plaza District, and Eastside Capitol Gateway; Automobile Alley used to be on the list, too. When I asked City of Tulsa officials back in the late '90s about starting it up here, the responses were oddly reluctant, as if such a thing might get in the way of tearing buildings down.

At long last, two years ago, Red Fork became the first Main Street program in the city, with hopes of bringing Southwest Blvd -- old Route 66 -- back to life. The Down on Main Street festival is part of the program to promote the area and bring the community together. From the festival flier, here are the events planned:

• Pie contest
• Ollie's Restaurant's Blue Plate Special
• Live music
• Global Garden's Kids' Zone
• Art show
• Farmers market with a Westside charm

The festival will take place along Southwest Blvd. near 41st St.

The deadline to enter the pie contest is TODAY (April 27, 2009). You must have your entry form and a $5 fee to the Red Fork Main Street office, 3708 Southwest Blvd, by 5 p.m. Click here for a form and more details.

Here's hoping for good weather for Saturday's Down on Main Street festival.

Here are some interesting publications relating to early-day Oklahoma on the websites of the National Archives and the Internet Archive.

The National Archives has an online sample of documents from their Center for Legislative Archives about Oklahoma's path to statehood including:

• Survey Map of Oklahoma and Indian Territory showing distances, municipal towns, and post offices, published by George Cram, 1902
• President Benjamin Harrison's nomination of George Washington Steele to be the first Governor of the Oklahoma Territory, May 8, 1890
• First page of the Joint Statehood Convention, Oklahoma City, July 12, 1905
• HR 12707, A Bill to enabling the people of the Indian and Oklahoma Territories to form a state constitution and State government, January 20, 1906
• Pages from a pamphlet called "Souvenirs of Tulsa - Indian Territory," 1906, which was submitted to Congress as evidence of Oklahoma's readiness to be admitted to the Union
• Telegram from T.H. Marlin of the Indian Territory to Joe Cannon, March 13, 1906
• Letter from Edwin Meeker of the Oklahoma Territory begging the House to concur with the Senate's amendment to the statehood bill, March 13, 1906
• Engrossed HR 12707, An act to enable the people of the Indian and Oklahoma Territories to form a state constitution and State government, first page, June 16, 1906
• Engrossed HR 12707, An act to enable the people of the Indian and Oklahoma Territories to form a state constitution and State government, endorsement, July 16, 1906

The main page has thumbnails of each item, which you can click on to see an enlarged view. You can also download a high-resolution scan of each item. (For example, the full-res version of the map is 68 MB.)

The Internet Archive offers a 1916 book, now in the public domain, called Men of affairs and representative institutions of Oklahoma. It comes from the collection of the New York Public Library. It features photographs and descriptions of important Oklahomans of the day, with an emphasis on Tulsa. You can view the book online, or download it as a PDF and in various other formats. I found it while looking for information about Tulsa's streetcar companies.

Cyrus Stevens Avery, who would become the father of Route 66, is one of the featured "men of affairs":

oil producer and farmer, Tulsa, born in Stevensville, Pa., on August 30, 1871, son of James A. and Ruie Avery. Educated in the public schools. Received A. B. degree from William Jewel College, Liberty, Mo. He is a Democrat and has served two terms as commissioner of Tulsa county. Is a Mason of high degree, being a member of the Consistory and Mystic Shrine. Member Board Directors Chamber of Commerce, Tulsa, and president Good Roads Association of the State.

Other Tulsa notables include Glenn T. Braden, founder of ONG and namesake of Braden Park, Patrick J. Hurley, Robert Galbreath (the man who discovered the Glenn Pool), and Harry Sinclair. Pat Malloy, Sr., is in the book -- former county attorney, Notre Dame graduate: "Mr. Malloy was left an orphan at the age of 14, a cyclone at Salix, Iowa, having killed his father, mother, two brothers and a sister."

Toward the back of the book there's a photo and description of the late lamented Manhattan Court apartments at 11th & Cincinnati:

On the opposite page is shown Manhattan Court, Cincinnati avenue and Eleventh street, owned by David J. Kelley, of the Manhattan Oil Co., Tulsa, the most beautiful and most exclusive apartments in the Southwest. The suites are three rooms and bath; interior trimmed in mahogany; quarter-sawed oak floors throughout; specially designed electric light fixtures; building scientifically ventilated; construction, asbestos and fire-proof stucco. Manhattan Court has its own pure water system connected with each apartment for all purposes; instantaneous hot water; steam heat; all kitchens open on beautiful interior court with its fountain of pure water and lawn; under personal direction of superintendent, always on premises; iron grill entrance for trades people in rear, adding to the exclusiveness and privacy of the occupants; special store room for each occupant in the basement; kitchens completely furnished with gas range, pantry kitchen table, sanitary refrigerator, connected with air vents and flush drains; garbage container furnished; garbage and waste burned; container thoroughly cleaned daily; each department connected with vacuum cleaner, work done by superintendent; sanitary bed in each apartment; large closet with modern appliances for clothing; bathrooms tiled and white enamel; recessed tubs, porcelain fixtures, plate-glass mirrors, medicine cabinets recessed in the walls; adjustable head shower baths; all bath rooms fitted with white enamel accessories: highest standard of plumbing and modern fixtures with latest sanitary appliances of approved design.

Manhattan Court occupies a convenient and attractive site in Tulsa. The artistic and attractive exterior of this structure, combined with its modern, luxurious and convenient interior, offers a must desirable residence for discriminating and appreciative people who understand that it is not how much money one spends, but what
is received in return for such expenditure.

Manhattan Court is not excelled by any similar structure in the United States and it is with some degree of pleasure that the owner has been privileged to contribute his share in this manner to the welfare and upbuilding of Tulsa. These flats are all rented a year ahead, and have a large waiting list.

Other back pages are devoted to a four story building called the Oklahoma Hospital, somewhere in Tulsa, the Tulsa Pathological Lab at 3rd and Cheyenne, the R. T. Daniel Bldg at 3rd & Boston, Boswell's Jewelry, the Gallais Building (now known as the Kennedy Building), the seven-story Brady Hotel, the three-story Overton Grocery.

Construction in the new Maple Ridge neighborhood is highlighted in a two-page ad for Stebbins, Eisenbach, Tucker, and Darnell, General Agents. They project that Tulsa will soon pass Oklahoma City. "[H]ere is to be the great city between the Missouri river and the Gulf coast...."

One page is devoted to Oklahoma City's extensive streetcar and interurban system. Nowata's Savoy Hotel and Mineral Baths gets a page. Several two-page spreads are devoted to various Oklahoma oil refineries. There were once many more in Tulsa besides the two that remain.

Photos of the original Kendall College building and Kemp Hall (the girls' dorm) will make you mad at TU all over again:

The present college is located at College Hill, and has a thirty-acre campus with five college buildings. Three hundred and fifty young men and women can be accommodated. Kendall likes Tulsa and Tulsa likes Kendall. The city has given the ground and about $200,000. The college work consists of nine departments, instructed by a University-trained corps of twenty-five men and women. The course is four years, leading to classical degrees, academic course of four years, corresponding to first-class high school courses. Also special courses in music, art, expression, domestic science, oil geology, business a'nd normal training. The dormitory facilities are unexcelled in the state. Every room is an outside room, and the chapel seats 550. A 55,000 pipe organ was installed in 1915. The gymnasium is one of the best in the state: building 65x90 feet, with a basket ball court. 40x70 feet. Visitors' gallery that will seat 500, bowling alleys, dressing rooms, equipped with lockers and shower baths.

Gone, every last bit of it.

The big surprise was seeing Moman Pruiett in this august and respectable company: "Prior to April 15, 1916, Mr. Pruiett had defended 346 men and women charged with murder; and he now has on his docket thirty-nine similar cases. In addition to this record, he has assisted in the prosecution of 37 charged with murder; and has been equally successful as a prosecutor. It is said that he had defended and caused to be acquitted more men for murder than any other lawyer in the world, and he has not yet been practicing twenty years." I didn't expect that he'd be respectable enough for inclusion. A recent biography of Pruiett is titled He Made It Safe to Murder.

A search of the Internet Archive for Tulsa turns up quite a lot of video of city council meetings, public forums, and other events by David Schuttler. It's interesting to realize that the work of this enterprising blogger/videographer is better preserved and more accessible to the public than the news coverage of local TV stations. Many sermons by Dennis Gunderson of Tulsa's Grace Bible Church turn up as well.

MORE to come: Jack Blair of the Tulsa City Council staff has sent along a number of city documents about our streetcar companies -- very interesting stuff that I hope to get posted in the not too distant future.

Over the last 9 days, I:

• Wrote two regular columns for Urban Tulsa Weekly
• Wrote two extra thousand-word pieces, which will appear in UTW's Spring Thing, one of the paper's two annual full-color special inserts
• Edited and cross-checked a 75-page technical proposal, writing or re-writing sections of it, working 10-12 hour days, including weekends

On Sunday arrived at the office about 1 p.m., lunch in hand. I broke for dinner about 7:30, writing a first draft of my column, returned to the office about 9, and went back to work on the proposal, incorporating last minute corrections and making sure we hadn't left anything out. At 3 a.m., five of us -- the executive VP, the engineering director, the program manager, the tech writer, and me -- gathered in the conference room to cut and streamline to get the proposal under the page limit. We finished about 4, and I went back to work on the column -- sent it in at 5:49, drove home, set out the trash, and was in bed about 6:10. Slept five hours and went back to the office to give the printed proposal a final review.

This evening, my 12-year-old son and I went to Will Rogers High School for their "Second Monday" architectural tour which runs from 6:30 - 8:00. The monthly tour is free, but they hope you'll buy popcorn, soda, and special calendars to help support the theatrical program. The next major production is the 45th edition of the Will Rogers Roundup, a variety show that will run in mid-April in the school's beautiful 1500-seat auditorium. The school, which opened in 1939, is beautiful inside and out.

(Here's Joseph Koberling's commentary on the architecture of the school he designed with Leon Senter.)

The WRHS alumnus who gave a historical lecture in the auditorium at the start of the tour (didn't catch his name, but he did a fine job) related a conversation he had at the National Preservation Conference last fall. The preservationist came to the WRHS booth in the exhibit hall and wanted to know what the school was used for now and when it was renovated. The preservationist was certain that, like many historic buildings, WRHS had been badly remodeled or neglected at some point in its history, and that it had been deemed obsolete and repurposed in some way. The remarkable thing about Will Rogers High School is that they've simply done a great job of preserving it, continuing to use it for its original purpose and never "wreckovating" it.

Back home, I still had laundry to do and a three-year-old to bathe.

But now I'm beat. There's some interesting new stuff over in the linkblog. I'm off to get some sleep.

A reminiscence from Pastor Ray Pritchard:

Legendary radio broadcaster Paul Harvey died today at the age of 90. Besides virtually creating his own medium that combined reporting with news commentary, he also knew how to tell a story. He gave the tease, paused, told a bit more, paused, let the story unravel a bit at a time, pausing along the way, then he would hit the punch line. He was a master writer with an utterly distinctive voice. For more than a generation, his was the dominant voice on the AM dial.

I mention his passing to honor him and because I knew him slightly during my early years in Oak Park. He and his wife Lynne (whom he always called "Angel") lived in nearby River Forest, and some years before I came to Calvary, he had attended the church on a regular basis. When the pulpit committee interviewed me, they made sure I knew that Paul Harvey had once attended the church.

And who showed up on my very first Sunday but Paul Harvey and his wife Lynne.
That created a bit of stir, and I was ushered out to meet him. I remember him as being tall with a shock of reddish hair. When he saw me, he stuck out his hand and said, "Hello, Tex!" in exactly the same tone in which he would say, "Hello, America . . . Stand by for news!"

Paul and Lynne Harvey attended services at Calvary a half-dozen times during the first couple of years of my ministry. We never had a lengthy conversation, but he was always very friendly and very gracious. It is a tribute to the power of his personality that although I haven't seen him in many years, I still vividly remember his first greeting.

Paul Harvey was a believer in Jesus. Now he knows . . . the rest of the story.

Tampa Bay Rays blogger Cork Gaines:

We would be remiss if we did not mention the passing of Paul Harvey, the man we consider the original blogger.

Harvey often worked with stories that flew under the radar knowing that the news that was presented was not always the news that most people were talking about. And he would often take a very popular story and find a new angle, like the time I heard him tell the life story of the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

And quite frankly...what is more blog than that?

Richard A. Sherman, Mr. Modem, remembers a visit to Harvey's Chicago studio:

I was first introduced to Mr. Harvey in name only, a number of years ago, by a mutual friend. Subsequent to our introduction, Mr. Harvey would periodically mention "Mr. Modem" during his radio broadcasts, particularly in conjunction with several books I had out around that time. Each time Mr. Harvey mentioned my books, I would immediately begin receiving email from listeners worldwide who heard it, and book sales would spike. And for one brief period of time -- okay, one VERY brief period of time -- I had the number one book on amazon.com, thanks to Mr. Harvey.

I'll always be grateful for his generous comments and support. He didn't have to say anything about me or my books, of course. His radio sponsors paid enormous sums of money for his folksy, conversational style of product promotion -- something I could never have afforded -- yet he and his wife, Angel, read my books and weekly newsletter, (http://www.mrmodem.com/) enjoyed them, and without any fanfare, nor any advanced notice, he would occasionally wax expansive about "Mr. Modem" to his listeners in his unique style of personal endorsement. It was Mr. Harvey who first described me on the air as "taking the gobbledygook out of computers," then graciously gave me his permission to use that quote and audio clip from his broadcast. It was a tremendous gift to me and it opened a lot of doors and created many opportunities....

As he entered his studio, I assumed I would remain outside, in the engineer's booth to observe the broadcast. Instead, Mr. Harvey invited me into the booth with him. I sat across the table, he being behind the microphone. Knowing that his broadcast would be heard on more than 1200 radio stations and 400 Armed Forces networks, I kept thinking to myself, "Whatever you do, don't sneeze or cough in the middle of his broadcast!" Fortunately, I did not.

With a well-rehearsed cue from his engineer, The Voice emerged, "This is Paul Harvey. Stand by for news." It was a voice I had heard for many years, from many parts of the country, at varying times in my life, and I couldn't help but think back to times I listened to Paul Harvey with my parents as a child, as an adolescent, or throughout my adult life. Paul Harvey was always there, his distinctive voice a calming, reassuring presence no matter what other events might have been transpiring. And suddenly here I was, sitting across a table from the iconic Paul Harvey, knowing at that precise moment millions of people were listening. The word "awesome" is grossly overused these days, but I can truly say that I was awe-struck sitting there...listening...observing the master at work.

During the broadcast, Mr. Harvey announced to his worldwide listening audience that he was pleased to have "Mr. Modem" with him in the studio, and he went on to say some very nice things about my books and newsletter and encouraged his listeners to subscribe. How can one ever adequately thank someone for an endorsement like that?

At one point he looked at me during the broadcast and asked what sounded like a rhetorical question -- but I wasn't sure. Terror-struck, it flashed through my mind, having listened to his broadcasts for many years, that there was never another voice on the air with him. It was always Paul Harvey's voice alone. So in classic "deer-in-the-headlights" fashion, I didn't know whether to speak or simply sit there like a muted lump. In that split second, I decided to say nothing and selected the muted-lump option. I was later told by his engineer that I made the right decision. Whew....

In the months after our visit in Chicago, Mr. Harvey would periodically call me to ask a question about the Internet, or verify something technological he was planning to talk about on his show. When prospective computer-related sponsors wanted to advertise on his show, he would ask me to evaluate the product or service and share my opinions with him. If a given product was not up to par, or if it failed to perform as represented, he would not accept it as a sponsor at any price. Integrity of that caliber is in woefully short short supply these days.

Sherman goes on to tell how he rescued the domain name paulharvey.com from a squatter, gave it to Paul Harvey, and then in 2000, when Harvey was negotiating with ABC for contract renewal, he had Sherman come along to provide advice as they discussed the network's plans for his website.

Marketing coach and columnist Terry Brock offers "Principles We Can Learn And Apply From Paul Harvey". Harvey was "different, but professional," did his homework, was extraordinarily creative in his delivery, would only advertise products he had personally used, and stayed young by doing a job he loved:

This working at what you love thing gives us life and energy --- science now proves it. Find a job you love so much you'll keep doing it till the day you die. Live life passionately and with vibrancy always --- you'll live longer and healthier that way. Keep going strong mentally and physically and you'll not only help others but you'll do better for yourself.

Joseph Farah of WorldNetDaily called Paul Harvey "my inspiration":

Later, when I became a professional [newsman], I thought about what made Paul Harvey so special, what gave him the universal appeal. It was clear to me it wasn't just the voice, the cadence of his speech and the repetition of keywords. It was much more than the style - which was artistic, original, creative and captivating. It was mostly the content - his news judgment.

Paul Harvey made his living sorting out the news for America - giving us a glimpse of what was really important and entertaining. Long before Matt Drudge entered the scene with the Internet, Paul Harvey was giving us headlines we might not see in our local newspapers or hear on the network TV news.

And all during my many years running daily newspapers, I would often instruct my editors what I expected from them - Paul Harvey-style news judgment.

Paul Harvey, who passed away last week, was a giant in broadcasting. But, more than that, he was a giant in journalism. He was a giant in the news business.

Yes, he could tell a great story, as in "the rest of the story." But what I loved most about him was his ability to find those great little gems of news - stories that escaped the attention of so many of his colleagues.

Farah was especially proud of an on-air mention of his book, Taking America Back, which Harvey said, "might make a real good Christmas present for the uninformed." It was in the context of an item about the legality of saying, "Merry Christmas": "And if anybody tries to tell you you cannot say 'Merry Christmas,' you have God and government on your side."

Shortly after his death, the biography Good Day! The Paul Harvey Story was published. That link leads to a WND preview of the book, which contains a number of Paul Harvey "quotes worth re-quoting":

• "In times like these, it's important to remember there have always been times like these."
• "The only people who get hurt on a roller coaster are the ones who jump off."
• "Like Mark Twain reportedly said about the music of Richard Wagner, 'It's not nearly as bad as it sounds.'"
• "Be careful ... when a government is mocked by its own citizens, that laughter is often the death rattle with which empires die."
• "It's OK to be worried - that means there is still hope! Let's just worry about the right and important things."
• "In the history of the world, God often chooses the simple ones to confound the wise."

This message board about Georgia radio has some reminiscences about Paul Harvey. Ben Sandifer wrote:

WNEX was a top 40 station in those days, but having Paul Harvey didn't matter even with their target demo. When I was in high school, my best friend and I would eat lunch together every day. We'd hurry through our lunch just so we could go sit in his car and listen to Paul Harvey at 12:30.

Gerry Marshall wrote:

The first time I ever heard of Paul Harvey or found out who he even was, I was a student at Virginia Tech in 1970. I was having a bad time with some grades and had an appointment with a guidence counselor to help me work through the problems, get my schedule readjusted, and hopefully keep from flunking out! I waited in the counselor's waiting room for about 35 minutes. Finally, he called me in, told me to have a seat, and tell him what was on my mind. I reached down deep in my gut and spilled out everything a 19-year old in panic of his college career could muster out. The counselor just leaned back in his chair and appeared to half-listen. When I finished, I took a deep breath and was waiting for him to come to my rescue. Instead, without saying a word, he stood up, walked over to a bookshelf on the other side of the room, and turned on a radio. I noticed the clock read 12:30pm. I looked at him totally puzzled as he came back around to his desk and plopped down in his chair. He pointed to the radio he had just turned on and said, "Shhhhh! Paul Harvey is on. We'll get back to you in a few minutes!" Oh yeah...I flunked out and got drafted!!

Another user posted the ABC Radio Networks bulletin to affiliates about what would fill Paul Harvey's timeslot. "Embedded network inventory" refers to ads read by the presenter; "local avail" is a slot for the local station to run a commercial. (KRMG would insert additional commercials at the end of each "page"; my recollection is that the broadcast would run to nearly 20 minutes. That's an indication of the audience Paul Harvey attracted.) Gil Gross took over the morning (Mon-Fri) and midday (Mon-Sat) newscasts; Doug Limerick took over the "Rest of the Story" slot, but with a different focus.

Beginning Monday, March 9, ABC Radio Networks will feed the following programming from ABC News Radio talents Gil Gross and Doug Limerick via XDS to all current Paul Harvey affiliates at the existing feed times. This programming will match the current Harvey feeds exactly.

Gil Gross

An award-winning journalist with more than 30 years experience reporting on global events, Gross has covered major stories including the assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II, the terrorist attacks of September 11, Timothy McVeigh and the Iraq War. He previously hosted The Gil Gross Show for CBS and was the trusted, primary substitute through the years for both Paul Harvey and Charles Osgood. He brings an array of news experience and perspective to the day's top stories.

* Morning Report (4 minutes of content plus minute of embedded network inventory)
o Weekdays at 8:30 a.m. ET (refeed at 9:30 a.m. ET)

* Midday (11 minutes of content plus 3 minutes of embedded network inventory, plus a 1 minute local avail for a total of 15 minutes)

o Weekdays
+ 11:35 a.m. ET
§ 12:06 p.m. ET (refeed at 1:06 p.m. ET)

o Weekends
+ Saturday (4:30 minutes of embedded network inventory)
# 11:10 a.m. ET (reefed at 12:10 p.m. ET)
# Also fed at 10:45 a.m. ET (prefeed) and 1:10 p.m. ET
# We also send a prefeed of the Saturday report at 7:25 p.m. ET on Fridays

Doug Limerick

ABC Morning News anchor Doug Limerick is a master at highlighting the unusual and quirky from the current news and pop culture and showcasing the information in an entertaining fashion for radio audiences. He has won two prestigious Edward R. Murrow Awards for Best Newscast. Limerick's features for ABC Radio Networks will focus on the day's news mixed with folksy, positive stories.

* Afternoons (4 minutes of content plus :30 embedded network inventory)
o Weekdays at 2:06 p.m. ET (prefeed) 3:06 p.m. ET

* Weekends
o Saturdays at 8:30 a.m. ET (refeeds at 9:30 a.m. ET and 10:30 a.m. ET)

From May to August 2001, Paul Harvey was off the air, having completely lost his voice, the result of a virus. WND reported on his Thanksgiving weekend broadcast that year, in which he reflected on his recovery and the state of the nation in the wake of the 9/11 attacks:

"Inescapably, I was haunted by the possibility that I might not broadcast again," he said.

Many friends including fellow broadcasters Mike Wallace of CBS and ABC's Sam Donaldson - both of whom had endured their own periods of voicelessness - called Harvey to provide encouragement. "Don't let anyone touch those vocal cords with a knife," Harvey was admonished....

In Harvey's on-air explanation of his absence, he said he was invited to speak at a Salvation Army event in Cincinnati, but sought to be excused due to his voice problem. The organization, though, had sold thousands of tickets, and asked him just to show up to the event without having to utter a word.

"I'll never forget the delegation who met my plane," said Harvey. "I was unable even to return their greeting."

On the tarmac of the airport, Harvey recounted how Salvation Army Maj. Philip McMichael led a prayer with his colleagues for the speechless newsman. "Lord, we know something good will come from Mr. Harvey's silence."

"Well, by George, something good did," Harvey continued. He says over the ensuing days, an epiphany taught him a new way to pray.

"You remember Jesus had prescribed for his disciples a perfect prayer, the essence of which is 'Thy will be done.' My prayers so often had been a shopping list of things I wanted to be done, and I began to pray for what He wanted.

"And doors began to open. I was led to a voice specialist. An outpatient procedure reinforced a weakened muscle alongside a vocal cord and within minutes, the voice which had been mostly mute for weeks came back to life."...

Harvey concluded by focusing on the brighter side of events, stressing that storms are part of life's normal climate, and that Americans need to learn to ride them.

"Don't let noisy news distress you, don't let the headline writers rain on your parade," he said. "My goodness, there's resiliency in this country we've not yet begun to use."

Paul Hale, writing at the Christian Index in 2016, told the story of Paul Harvey's belated baptism:

Paul Harvey Aurandt was born on September 4, 1918 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Twenty-five years later, the surname was dropped for professional reasons as his star rose in the world of radio.

Tragedy struck early as three-year-old Paul lost his father while he was in the line of duty as a Tulsa policeman. The burglar's bullet put the family in desperate financial straits. To keep debt collectors at bay, Paul's mother had small apartments built into their house to make money from renters....

Leaving Chicago for a needed vacation in Arizona, Harvey tells the story of driving up a mountain road on Sunday morning to visit a country church in a hilltop clearing. He said, "The little steeple pierced an azure sky, and white clapboard siding reflected the morning sun."

As the Chicago city slickers settled into their wooden folding chairs amid a dozen or so worshippers, the country preacher announced that he would be preaching on being baptized the Bible way. Harvey was reminded of his long-ago experience of believing in Jesus while alone in his room as a young man. He grew up going to church. He was reminded of clinging to his favorite Bible verse of John 3:16 through the years.

The simple eloquence of the country preacher made Harvey twist in his chair as he realized that he had never done what the Lord Jesus commands all new believers to do. Harvey realized that he had never taken that step of obedience in following Jesus in believer's baptism.

As the sermon drew to a close, and as the pianist plinked out a familiar hymn, the country preacher's closing invitation to the small gathering was to yield themselves totally to Christ. Paul Harvey found himself stepping into the aisle and walking forward with a desire to be fully obedient to Christ.

After coming up out of the watery grave of baptism, Harvey said, "I cried like a baby, a kind of release I suppose. I remember looking at Angel and her eyes were shining. She knew well what this meant to me, for she had been blessed with the same experience as a girl."

A new joy invaded the daily routine of deadlines and headlines in Harvey's world. With one of the most powerful microphones in the free world before him each day, his humbling step of public baptism seemed to free him up to be more vocal about his Christian faith.

Paul Harvey aircheck from 1966 from KRSI, St. Louis Park, Minnesota. He was broadcasting that day from Nashua, New Hampshire.

Another Paul Harvey aircheck from March 1966 included the report of Cassius Clay's refusal to be inducted into the Army.

NOTE 2019/10/15: This item was originally planned to be a description of Tulsa's Pearl District when Paul Harvey lived there, from his birth in 1918 until his graduation in 1936, but it became a place to collect other tributes I came across shortly after his death. At the time I never got around to cleaning up the links and hitting "publish." In the intervening 10 years, many links have broken. Those I couldn't find in the Wayback Machine are captured here for posterity.

Life coach John C. Donahue offered a quotable quote from Paul Harvey:

"They have gun control in Cuba.
They have universal health care in Cuba.
So why do they want to come here?"

A folksy essay about the value of dirt roads, attributed to Paul Harvey, but seems to lack his touch:

There's not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn't be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.

I mentioned a few weeks ago my stunned amazement as I drove down Quincy Ave.:

Looking south on Quincy Ave. from 6th St., I noticed a tell-tale pair of parallel cracks in the asphalt, each crack about the same distance from the middle of the street. The distance between the two cracks was about the same as the width of a standard gauge train track....

As I passed 8th St. heading southbound on Quincy, the parallel cracks swerved to the right. A bit further on, I noticed another pair of parallel cracks, about a foot away from the pair I had been following. The two pairs of cracks, swerved back toward the middle just north of 10th St. It looked very much like a spot where a single track split in two to allow streetcars heading in opposite directions to pass each other.

My jaw dropped when I spotted this.

Here is one of several photos I took of Quincy Ave between 8th and 10th Streets, showing cracks in the asphalt, which reveal where once ran the Tulsa Street Railway streetcar tracks. Here, looking north from 10th St., you can see where a single pair of tracks splits into two, so that cars headed in opposite directions could pass each other. Neighborhood lore holds that this was a stop on the line.

Here's a link to the whole Tulsa Streetcars set on Flickr, which will grow as I add other photos of remnants of Tulsa's streetcar and interurban system.

MORE: From the September 10, 1915, edition of Railway Age Gazette, an item about the ambitious plans of the other streetcar line in town:

TULSA TRACTION COMPANY -- This company was recently incorporated in Oklahoma with $100,000 capital and plans to build from Tulsa, Okla., southwest to Sapulpa, also extensions connecting Broken Arrow, Bixby and Okmulgee and a line north to Collinsville, in all about 80 miles. The company has bought Oklahoma Union Traction line in Tulsa. G. C. Stebbins, president; A. J. Biddison, vice-president and general counsel; I. F. Crow, secretary and treasurer, and B. C. Redgraves, superintendent.

And in the Sept. 24, 1915, edition:

This company was recently incorporated in Oklahoma with $100,000 capital, it is said, to succeed the Oklahoma Union Traction Company. A line will be built south of Tulsa, Okla., to Sapulpa and Okmulgee, and on the north to Collinsville. The company now operates six miles of single track to Orcutt Lake. G. C. Stebbins, president, and B. C. Redgraves, superintendent.

I was sad to learn tonight of the passing of legendary radio broadcaster and Tulsa native Paul Harvey at the age of 90.

Harvey grew up at 1014 E. 5th Pl. -- the house is still there -- went to Longfellow School at 6th and Peoria, and then Central High School, starting his radio career at KVOO when he was still in high school. (They were all within walking distance of each other back in the '30s -- KVOO was in the Philtower.) A few years ago he reported receiving a letter from a more recent resident of that house, who had found a wood-shop project in the attic with his name on it -- bookends, I think it was.

I started listening to Paul Harvey's broadcasts in the mid-1970s, at a time when he wasn't carried by any Tulsa station, at least none that I could find. I listened to him on KGGF 690 out of Coffeyville, Kansas. Eventually -- sometime in the late '70s, I think -- KRMG picked him up.

When I started working in Tulsa after college, I often ate my lunch in the car at a nearby park, listening to his noontime broadcast. If I missed him on KRMG at noon, I could catch him on KGGF at 12:40.

It could be hard to listen to Paul Harvey's broadcasts over the last few years, as time finally took its toll on his vocal cords, but it was still the same interesting variety of news, still the same distinctive speech pattern.

See-Dubya has a fitting remembrance over at Michelle Malkin's blog:

Paul Harvey put news out there that no other outlet touched. His Paul Harvey News and Comment scoured the wires for random stuff-and ideologically inconvenient stuff- you just didn't hear on the Big Three mainstream TV news, and crammed it all in to crisp five minute chunks, complete with terse commentary and the occasional wry thwack of sarcasm-and he still had time for the inevitable personalized pitches for Buicks and the Bose Acoustic Wave Radio. Here's what he had to say about his advertisers:

"I can't look down on the commercial sponsors of these broadcasts," he told CBS in 1988. "Too often they have very, very important messages to put across. Without advertising in this country, my goodness, we'd still be in this country what Russia mostly still is: a nation of bearded cyclists with b.o."

Zing. He was always like that. Paul Harvey invented blogging; he just did his blogging on the radio....

His radio show wasn't particularly ideological-you could tell he leaned right but it was mainly through the choice of stories and headlines he picked out. He also had a syndicated column back in the day that my state paper carried, and he was a rock-ribbed Middle American (Tulsa native, in fact) social and fiscal conservative with a heart of gold, a deep love of country, and no illusions about the stakes of foreign policy. He was a Reaganesque thinker, as well as a Reaganesque communicator.

(See-Dubya notes: "I kind of trace the groundswell of interest in [Fred] Thompson back to his time broadcasting from Paul Harvey's chair, and likewise the deflation of the Thompson bubble to the time he left it." Hearing Fred in that setting certainly sparked my interest,)

THE REST OF THE STORY:

You can hear Paul Harvey in full voice in this clip on Lileks.com from 1968.

This page about Tulsa radio on Tulsa TV Memories notes that he was a student of Miss Isabelle Ronan at Central High School, and includes a Real Media clip of Paul Harvey speaking on the Larry King Show about his education, his career, and his optimism.

Here's Paul Harvey's entry in the Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture.

AND THERE'S THIS:

WGN radio, his Chicago home base, has audio clips from Paul Harvey's broadcasts and speeches and the ABC News radio special on the life and career of Paul Harvey which was heard this morning on KRMG.

KOTV has a story that includes video from his 1994 speech at a Tulsa fundraiser for the Salvation Army.

Route 66 News remembers Paul Harvey's support for a couple of Missouri Route 66 businesses.

Washington Post obituary: "Broadcaster Delivered 'The Rest of the Story'" (It's by Joe Holley. Wonder if he's any relation to the southpaw fiddler.)

Paul Harvey, 90, a Chicago-based radio broadcaster whose authoritative baritone voice and distinctive staccato delivery attracted millions of daily listeners for more than half a century, died Feb. 28 in Phoenix.

A spokesman for ABC Radio Networks told the Associated Press that Mr. Harvey died at his winter home, surrounded by family. No cause of death was immediately available.

Mr. Harvey was the voice of the American heartland, offering to millions his trademark greeting: "Hello Americans! This is Paul Harvey. Stand by! For news!"

For millions, Paul Harvey in the morning or at noon was as much a part of daily routine as morning coffee.

HERE IS A STRANGE:

Aaron Barnhart gives a couple of examples of Paul Harvey's impact -- one coming from Keith Olbermann. Keith Olbermann?

"I was his official fill-in from 2001-03 and I was overwhelmed by the thought that went in to the selection and flow of stories. Even when he was off, his rules were in place: each segment began with hard news, moved on to commentary, ended with celebrity and then something light or silly. Then a commercial. Then repeat. Then another commercial, etc.

"I stole it almost entirely for 'Countdown.'"

Bathtub Boy's interpretation of Harvey's demand that ABC replace him as his heir apparent seems a little off:

And though he liked my work, and consented to let ABC groom me to succeed him, when an executive flew to Chicago to get his consent to the network giving away free a Sunday version of his show, done by me, he immediately told them not only would he not agree, but if they did not find a different back-up and write it into a new contract, he would not go on the air the next day. Probably the most job-secure, most irreplacable man in broadcasting, without whom the franchise would sink to 10% of its value, and yet he was convinced he was about to be shown the door. The mind reels.

I don't think Paul Harvey was afraid of losing his job. I think he was afraid of the franchise he had built over 50 years being handed over to a nutter like Olbermann.

But wash your ears out with this, from Barnhart's closing paragraphs:

Finally, a word about Paul Harvey's non-verbal communication. No one in radio got away with the silences that he did. His pauses weren't just pregnant, they were Nadya Suleman pregnant. They were amazingly long, by radio standards. They challenged the listener's assumption that an interruption to the flow of continuous noise meant something was wrong. Nothing was wrong; Paul Harvey just wanted the listener's attention back, in case it had drifted. The great communicator was speaking to his invisible audience with invisible words. And they listened.

So now, as you finish this, don't just observe a moment of silence for Paul Harvey. Listen to the silence.

AND MORE:

Kimmswick, Mo., home of his Reveille Ranch, remembers Paul Harvey

Some childhood details from the New York Times obit:

He was born Paul Harvey Aurandt in Tulsa, Okla., on Sept. 4, 1918, the son of Harrison Aurandt, a police officer, and Anna Dagmar Christian Aurandt. His father was killed in a gun battle when he was 3, and his mother rented out rooms to make ends meet. He was raised a Baptist, and it influenced his views.

As a boy he was fascinated with radio and built a receiver out of a cigar box. As a teenager, he had a strong resonant voice, and in 1933 a teacher at Tulsa Central High School escorted him to local station KVOO-AM and told the manager: "This boy needs to be on the radio."

He was taken on as an unpaid errand boy, but soon was allowed to deliver commercials, play a guitar and read the news on the air; two years later, he got his first paycheck.

Christopher Orlet remembers the broad appeal of Paul Harvey's "Rest of the Story":

I remember crawling in from college football practice at 5:30 p.m. -- this was the early 1980s -- and collapsing on a locker room bench while over the loudspeaker came The Voice halfway through his evening broadcast, which wasn't news at all, but a feature story where some famous person's identity was revealed in a surprise, twist ending....

Talk about a surreal scene: fifty exhausted college football players from all across the country lying all over a locker room floor in silence waiting for Paul Harvey to reveal the identity of today's subject. "And now you know...the rest of the story...Paul Harvey...Good Day!" Only then would we hit the showers.

Columnist Bob Greene remembers the many times he sat in the studio for a performance of Paul Harvey News and Comment:

He would make these warm-up noises -- voice exercises, silly-sounding tweets and yodels, strange little un-Paul-Harvey-like sounds -- and he showed no self-consciousness about doing it in front of someone else, because would a National Football League linebacker be self-conscious about someone seeing him stretch before a game, would a National Basketball Association forward be worried about someone seeing him leap up and down before tipoff? This was Paul Harvey's arena, and he would get the voice ready, loosening it, easing it up to the starting line.

And then the signal from the booth, and. . .

"Hello, Americans! This is Paul Harvey! Stand by. . . for news!"

And he would look down at those words that had come out of his typewriter minutes before -- some of them underlined to remind him to punch them hard -- and they became something grander than ink on paper, they became the song, the Paul Harvey symphony. He would allow me to sit right with him in the little room -- he never made me watch from behind the glass -- and there were moments, when his phrases, his word choices, were so perfect -- flawlessly written, flawlessly delivered -- that I just wanted to stand up and cheer.

But of course I never did any such thing -- in Paul Harvey's studio, if you felt a tickle in your throat you would begin to panic, because you knew that if you so much as coughed it would go out over the air into cities and towns all across the continent -- so there were never any cheers. The impulse was always there, though -- when he would drop one of those famous Paul Harvey pauses into the middle of a sentence, letting it linger, proving once again the power of pure silence, the tease of anticipation, you just wanted to applaud for his mastery of his life's work.

He probably wouldn't have thought of himself this way, but he was the ultimate singer-songwriter. He wrote the lyrics. And then he went onto his stage and performed them. The cadences that came out of his fingertips at the typewriter were designed to be translated by one voice -- his voice -- and he did it every working day for more than half a century: did it so well that he became a part of the very atmosphere, an element of the American air.

UPDATE: The films discovered by Currie Ballard, filmed by Rev. Dr. Solomon Sir Jones, are now available for viewing and download on the website of Yale University's Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. More about the Rev. Dr. Solomon Sir Jones and his films here.

A couple of years ago, I told you about historian Currie Ballard's amazing find of films taken in Oklahoma in the 1920s of African-American families, communities, businesses, and events. (This YouTube user has some clips from the films.)

These were in the news again recently, and in looking for more information I came across the website of Global ImageWorks, a service that provides stock footage. They list Ballard's collection in their online catalog:

BLACK AMERICAN TOWNS FROM 1920s

Global ImageWorks is exclusively representing a rare and unique film collection discovered by historian Currie Ballard consisting of six hours of film documenting the daily lives of successful black towns in Oklahoma thriving in the aftermath of the infamous Tulsa Riots of 1921. The footage illustrates a little known piece of history and includes footage showing entire black communities visiting one another's country homes, parading through downtown Muskogee in some two dozen Packards, crowding an enormous church in Tulsa not long after the riots, gathering at the National Baptist Convention, and traveling to Europe. It includes black cowboys riding horses amidst oil derricks rising from their ranches, various sporting events including rare footage of the 1928 Los Angeles to New York "Great American Foot Race" in which three of the finishing runners were black Americans. The material found by Ballard came in 29 cans and was shot by the Rev. S. S. Jones, a circuit preacher assigned by National Baptist Convention to document the glories of Oklahoma's black towns of Guthrie, Muskogee, and Langston.

The embedded video on that catalog page is a series of short clips from the collection, which appears to have been beautifully restored.

A site search turns up six "tapes" containing footage from the collection. Here are the titles links to each item page, each of which includes a detailed list of the scenes contained therein:

OKLAHOMA COVERAGE 1924 -1928 - MIDDLE CLASS BLACK LIFESTYLE Tape #: 3382 | Date: 1920s | Location: Clearview, Muskogee, Langston, Bristow, Tulsa, Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Oklahoma coverage of middle class black family life in Clearview, Muksogee , Langston and Bristow showing families on their farms and their oil wells. Unique footage from the Currie Ballard Collection. 1925-1927

AFRICAN AMERICAN MIDDLE CLASS LIFESTYLE IN BLACK RUN TOWNS IN OKLAHOMA 1920S
Tape #: 3383 | Date: 1920s | Location: Muskogee, Harlinville, Depew, Boley, Duncan, Okemah,Taft, Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Scenes of black middle class lifestyle in Oklahoma in completely black run towns of Muskogee, Duncan etc. in 1920s. Church, train scenes, Antioch cadets, black kids in school, grocery and filling stations, farms, and local commerce. From the Currie Ballard Collection.

PEOPLE AND LIFESTYLE IN BLACK RUN TOWN OF MUSKOGEE, OKLAHOMA IN 1925
Tape #: 3384 | Date: 1920s | Location: Muskogee, Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Various residences of people living in Muskogee, Department store, basketball team and high school speling contest, classes, faculty etc. From the Currie Ballard Collection

MIDDLE CLASS LIFE STYLE SHOWING RESIDENCES, FAMILIES AND SCHOOLS.
Tape #: 3385 | Date: 1920s | Location: Okmulgee, Tulsa, Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Middle class life style showing residences, families and schools. From the Currie Ballard Collection

OKLAHOMA - AFRICAN AMERICAN LIFESTYLE
Tape #: 3386 | Date: 1920s | Location: Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Various towns of Oklahoma, residences,schools, baptism, construction, lifestyle, Masons parade, Masonic lodge, Church. From the Currie Ballard Collection.

OKLAHOMA AFRICAN AMERICANS
Tape #: 3387 | Date: 1920s | Location: Germany, Jerusalem, Italy, Oklahoma | Length: 60:00 | Master Format: film - 16mm video - digi beta | B/W

Oklahoma African Americans from the Currie Ballard Collection.

Some of the Tulsa-related scenes:

• The Oklahoma Eagle Divinity Company, Greenwood Street 1927 Tulsa


• Tulane Avenue Baptist Church Bus from New Orleans, Louisiana at Gen Convention Tulsa Brady Theater 1927 Tulsa


• Church members leaving church winter brick church inner city


• Scenes from Thanksgiving Day 1925 parade and football game: "MTH Muskogee vs. BWH of Tulsa" (Tulsa won, 13 to 9)


• Mr. Jessie Brown new $75,000 Funeral Home, 540 E. Easton 1928 Tulsa


• Brown Funeral Service 1928 Tulsa


• Union Baptist CadetS at State SS & BYPU Convention, Rev. D.C. Cooksey August 4, 1928 Tulsa


• Train loaded with cars, oil derrick in background


• Church Baptist Cadets


• Ground Breaking Union Baptist Church Pastor D.C. Cooksey Officers and Members August 4, 1928 Tulsa


• Church ground breaking (older Church burned down during Tulsa Race Riot 1921)


• Tulsa Business League Dr. S.S. Jones (right to left) Tulsa


• Dr. S.S. Jones eyeglasses Tulsa


• Mt. Zion Baptist Church after the Riot Photo Stills (right to left) Tulsa


• Greenwood Street seven years after Tulsa Race Riot 1921


• C.B. Bottling Works, 258 E. Archie (right to left) Tulsa


• Soda Pop Bottling Company


• Jackson's Undertaker Co. (right to left) Tulsa


• Booker T. Washington High School, noon hour Tulsa


• Dunbar Grade School (right to left) Tulsa


• Dunbar Agri Gardens (right to left) Tulsa

There are scenes from many Oklahoma cities and towns, including Okmulgee, Muskogee, Haskell, Coweta, Ardmore, Langston, Bristow, Taft, El Reno, Oklahoma City, Lawton, Depew, Boley, Wewoka, Boynton, Gibson Station, Wetumka, Eufaula, Red Bird, Porter, and Holdenville plus scenes from travels to Paris, London, Chicago, and the Holy Land.

These, along with old street directories, newspaper microfilm, and Sanborn fire insurance maps, could be the makings of a fascinating documentary.

MORE: From an Oklahoman story on the films from September 2006:

The significance, he said, is the "positive light it puts on blacks in this state. Under the heat of Jim Crow laws, it showed that blacks were prosperous."

Many blacks living in the 1920s were former slaves, and the films show a bustling and prosperous way of life, Ballard said.

"It was rare for a white person to have the camera and equipment in those days," he said. "For someone black to have a camera was unreal. That's what makes it so rare. The movies are from an African-American point of view....

Some of the movies were taken just a few years after the Tulsa race riots of 1921, which virtually destroyed the city's Greenwood district. Jones chronicled the 1925 (black) National Baptist Convention in Greenwood and an accompanying parade.

"The movies showed the strength and resilience of the people of Greenwood to pull off a national convention and to rebuild what was burnt to ashes," Ballard said.

That's the footage that also impresses Blackburn. Like Blackburn, he said it shows the people were able to not only recover but to prosper.

"It would have been easier to be intimidated and to run away and go to St. Louis or Chicago," Blackburn said. "This film footage is very important."

What is interesting, Blackburn said, is that the films show no signs of destruction, but vitality of the Tulsa black community.

STILL MORE: Currie Ballard was recently appointed Assistant Secretary of the Oklahoma State Senate.

When I'm writing a column that has a historical angle, I'll look through the Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps or the 1957 Polk Directory for Tulsa. Writing about the Pearl District, I was browsing the street listings for 5th Pl.

In 1957, Paul Harvey's mom, Mrs. Anna D. Aurandt, still lived in the house where Paul grew up, at 1014 E. 5th Pl., right next door to "Lee, W Thos Rev." and family, including regular BatesLine commenter S. Lee. (Click here to see a photo of Paul and his mom, taken by Rev. Lee.)

Just a couple of blocks away on the same street, I spotted this name, familiar to those of us who remember the Golden Age of Tulsa television:

1223 Lile Henry D GI7-1048

Henry Lile was a freelance photographer for KOTV and a private pilot, in addition to his day (actually late night/early morning) job delivering Rainbo Bread.

But a juxtaposition further east, near the TU campus, gave me a chuckle.

Sorority Row, then as now, was on 5th Pl. between Florence and Gary: Chi Omega, Delta Delta Delta, Phi Mu, Kappa Delta, Kappa Kappa Gamma, and Delta Gamma. Just across the street from sorority row, right across from the Phi Mu house, at 3123 E. 5th Pl., was a single-story house, owned and occupied by...

D. Leon Cowherd.

I was driving around the Pearl District -- the topic of my upcoming column -- this evening just about sunset. Looking south on Quincy Ave. from 6th St., I noticed a tell-tale pair of parallel cracks in the asphalt, each crack about the same distance from the middle of the street. The distance between the two cracks was about the same as the width of a standard gauge train track. I had noticed this phenomenon before, on Archer St. downtown, where the Sand Springs Railway once ran down the center of the street.

Quincy Ave. was the route of a branch of the Tulsa Street Railway, which ceased operation in 1936. The line left downtown on 3rd and branched north and south on Madison. The north branch ran along 1st to Lewis to 7th to the TU campus.

The south branch turned east on Fostoria (now known as 5th Pl.) running past the house where Paul Harvey grew up, then headed south on Quincy, terminating just north of 15th St.

As I passed 8th St. heading southbound on Quincy, the parallel cracks swerved to the right. A bit further on, I noticed another pair of parallel cracks, about a foot away from the pair I had been following. The two pairs of cracks, swerved back toward the middle just north of 10th St. It looked very much like a spot where a single track split in two to allow streetcars heading in opposite directions to pass each other.

My jaw dropped when I spotted this.

I don't know for sure that there are still rails beneath the asphalt, but if there were rails, I would expect them to have some effect on the integrity of the asphalt as they expand and cool at a different rate than the other material in the roadbed.

Keep your eyes open. You may just see a remnant of a Tulsa that no longer exists.

On May 20, 2008, the famed Rock Cafe on US 66 in Stroud was gutted by fire, but the stone walls remained standing. Owner Dawn Welch was determined to rebuild. After some false starts, reconstruction is on track for completion in late spring, according to Dawn's latest update, posted on January 20. The interior framing is complete and the roof trusses are now in place. If she meets that late spring target, the cafe would open just about a year after the fire.

It gives me hope for the old Temple Israel building at 14th and Cheyenne, which was gutted by fire in late January. The brick walls are still up, and I'm hopeful that Kevin Stephens, who owns the historic building and adjacent lots, will press ahead with his planned restoration and repurposing of the building. It's an important part of our city's history. After Temple Israel moved away in the '30s, to 16th & Rockford (now home to a playground for Christ the King Parish), the building was home to the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Its companion, the original home of Congregation B'nai Emunah, just three blocks away near 11th and Cheyenne, was torn down some years ago for parking for the Teamsters hall next door.

The U. S. Geological Survey is mapmaker to the Federal Government, but their topographical maps are used by ranchers, hikers, hydrologists, miners -- anyone interested in the shape of the land and what lies beneath. Because they also depict cultural features in rural areas -- roads, houses, schools, churches, cemetaries -- they can be useful for recreating history, too.

Up on the fourth floor of the Central Library, quadrangle maps of the Tulsa area from the mid-to-late '70s are laid out atop the map cabinets. The maps are actually an update of maps from the 1950s, with changes marked in purple. While some features from the '50s are obscured, many are still visible.

Old USGS maps provide the kind of information about rural areas that the Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps provide for developed areas. I'd love to find Tulsa area USGS maps from the '50s and earlier.

I did find a bit of a 1913-4 USGS map showing Tulsa and environs from Pine to 111th St. S, and from the 96th Meridian (Osage County line, west of Elwood) to east of Yale. It's on p. 9 of the March 2006 issue of The Outpost, the newsletter of the Three Forks Treasure Hunters Club, in an article on historical USGS quadrangle maps. It's interesting to see what roads were there already, almost 100 years ago. Tulsa had grown only out as far as 21st and Utica, except for the western part of the Whittier neighborhood and an area labeled Kendall north of 11th between Lewis and Harvard. There's a place called West School on an unimproved road at about 76th and Delaware. The most interesting change: Back then it was called Jill Creek, not Joe Creek. (Or did the USGS man just mishear?)

Dan Weber, a senior at the University of Tulsa, has a column in the school's student newspaper, The Collegian, about the impact of TU's campus expansion and its efforts to attract more residential students on its relationship with the city from which it takes its name:

[The class of 2009 has] lived out our four years in a transitional setting, hemmed in by orange barrels, while the administration finally realized its long-awaited opportunity to recast the campus image.

Now construction is essentially complete (since the financial crisis has remaining projects on hiatus) and we're finally inhabiting the more residential and attractive campus that's supposed to aid TU's obstinate struggle to breach the hallowed U.S. News Top 50.

We seniors, then, are uniquely able to appreciate what the campus has gained and lost in the process to attract all those precious National Merit Scholars.

TU has lost a sense of belonging to Tulsa and gained the feeling of a glorified boarding school for students from Texas and Missouri.

Weber mentions Starship Records and the Metro Diner, once on 11th St but demolished to make way for TU's new grand entrance on 11th St., the University having decided that its grand entrance on Delaware Ave. (the U) was no longer grand enough. Weber calls the two businesses "Tulsa institutions that meant more to locals than the view of the Collins Hall fountain ever will."

The clichéd complaint that spurred the Chapman Commons "front door" project was that traveling along 11th Street, those unfamiliar with the campus wouldn't be able to recognize that they were adjacent to a university.

Since 11th also happens to be midtown's leg of Route 66, TU was squandering a golden opportunity to latch onto the mythos of the Mother Road. Ironically, now gazing upon Chapman Commons one wouldn't immediately recognize that they were adjacent to Route 66.

I'd encourage Mr. Weber to dig deeper into the history of TU's relationship with the city and its immediate neighbors. Until ORU opened its doors in 1965, TU was the only institution of higher learning in the city. Tulsa didn't have any sort of state-funded higher ed until Tulsa Junior College (TJC) in 1969.

Before then, TU was Tulsa's only college. It was the place where Tulsans went to college because they could live with their folks and save money while they earned a degree. TU's stadium was built for and at one time owned by the public school system, for use by the high school athletic program as well as the Golden Hurricane. The TU baseball team played at Oiler Park; the basketball team played at the county's Fairgrounds Pavilion and then at the city's Assembly Center. The law school was downtown across the street from Trinity Episcopal Church. The engineering school was up on N. Lewis.

50 years ago, the main campus was contained between 5th and 7th, Delaware and Gary, surrounded by neighborhoods on all sides. Businesses and churches scattered around the neighborhoods catered to students and locals alike. At some point, in the late '50s or early '60s, the single family neighborhoods around campus were rezoned to allow apartments. One house at a time was cleared to be replaced with a single-story strip of four or five small apartments.

As the neighborhood lost its integrity, it made it easy for officials to label it blighted, in need of urban renewal. The city could then use its power of eminent domain to take land that TU wanted for expansion and sell it to the college for redevelopment.

TU might have continued on its original course, scattering facilities around central Tulsa, integrating its students in the life of the city. That's been a successful model for the Savannah College of Art and Design, which has classrooms and student housing all over the city's historic district, enlivening the city with students and renovating historic buildings in the process.

Instead TU's leaders wanted a typical integrated, isolated campus, and they had governmental muscle at their disposal to make sure they got the land they wanted.

TU has many great academic programs, but it is no longer the sole option for higher ed for Tulsans, not by a long shot. It's certainly not the most affordable. If there were ever justification for the city to assist a private college with its expansion needs, that justification is no longer valid.

(Hat tip to Route 66 News.)

In this week's issue of Urban Tulsa Weekly I wrote about the proposed look for the new downtown ballpark, and I mentioned the location's connection with two railroads and the Greenwood district:

From the 1910s until sometime in the 1990s, the site was bisected by the M. K. & T. railroad tracks. For the first 50 years of that period, the interurban from Sand Springs ran down the center of Archer until about a half-block east of Elgin, where the tracks curved northward, running roughly where the ballpark's outfield fence will be. The trolley tracks then ran down the middle of Greenwood Ave. from Brady St. to Haskell St., before veering off to the east to connect to the Santa Fe tracks to the north.

You can still see some old bits of the track behind the commercial buildings on the west side of Greenwood. The triangular shape of that block of buildings marks where the Sand Springs and Katy railroads crossed paths. If you look closely, you can see where the middle of Archer and the sidewalk on its north side were patched when the interurban tracks were removed.

In the Tulsa Library's online archive of the Beryl Ford Collection of historic Tulsa photos, I found a series of photos showing the Sand Springs line in Greenwood in what appears to be the late 1940s and early 1950s. Not all of the photos were taken at the same time, but I've put them in order starting near the corner of Greenwood Ave. and Brady St. and moving north to where the tracks leave Greenwood Ave. at Haskell Ave. and head north-northeast along a road called Greenwood Pl. toward a junction with the Midland Valley and Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad tracks north of Independence St. Each photo and caption is linked to a slightly larger version on the library's website. Someday I hope to see a full resolution version of each these pictures, which would make it possible to pin down details like years on license plates, street signs, and names and numbers on buildings.

The Sand Springs Railroad's waiting room at the Tulsa end of the line was on the northwest corner of Archer and Boston. I do not know whether or not passengers were carried all the way to Greenwood Ave.

(UPDATE 2015/02/07: In an interview for the Voices of Oklahoma Series, Marques Haynes, basketball hall-of-famer and Sand Springs native, confirms that the streetcar had a stop on Greenwood. He mentions that because he couldn't go to the whites-only movie theater in Sand Springs, he and his friends would ride the Sand Springs interurban into Tulsa; the trolley stopped on Greenwood, right across from the Dreamland Theater. That stop was probably in front of the building on the left of the first photo below, on the NW corner of Greenwood and Brady.)

Sand Springs Railroad interurban tracks, looking north toward Brady St. & Greenwood Ave., Busy Bee Lunch (in the Center Hotel building), and Vernon AME Church. While the Vernon Church is still there, as is the building in the foreground, in between is now the route of I-244.

If you're looking for out-of-the-ordinary Christmas gifts, here are a couple of special shopping opportunities around Tulsa for tomorrow, Saturday, December 13, 2008:

From 4 pm to 6 pm, Jack Frank will be signing his latest Tulsa Films DVD release, Tulsa Deco, as well as the two volumes of Fantastic Tulsa Films. The signing will be at the midtown Borders, 21st and the Broken Arrow Expressway. The hour-long Tulsa Deco show is a great gift for the longtime Tulsan with a love for local history and architecture or for the newcomer who's heard about Tulsa art deco and wonders what all the fuss is about.

And from 3 pm to 11 pm, Ida Red, at 3346 S. Peoria in Brookside, will be the site of the Handmade Holiday Market, featuring the work of The Knit Owl, Such Pretty Things, Blue Turtle Soap, Holly Rocks, and Clover Studios. There will be live music from Joy and Day, Fiawna Forté, and Erin Austin.

Both events are great opportunities to support local artists and artisans.

UPDATE: Tulsa Deco will re-air on Sunday, December 7, at noon on KTUL channel 8.

If you love Tulsa's beautiful Art Deco architecture, if you're fascinated by our rich history, you're going to want to own a copy of Jack Frank's newest DVD in his Tulsa History Series: Tulsa Deco.

The quality of this production fits its subject: Everything about it is a delight to the eye, from the Deco-inspired fonts used in the titles and captions to the menu graphic -- a juxtaposition of representatives of the three main types of Deco: streamline (the 32nd and Utica all-electric house), zigzag (Boston Ave. Methodist), and PWA (Union Depot), against a background of rotating beams of light and floating clouds.

Jack Frank's camera lets you look up close at the wonderful detail on some of our most famous buildings. You get a tour of the inside of the Adah Robinson House at 11th Pl. and Owasso Ave., and the history of the Riverside Studio (aka the Spotlight Theater), both Bruce Goff designs. Deco churches are represented by Boston Ave. Methodist and Christ the King Catholic Parish. You'll see the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Westhope, and you'll hear some stories about the house from Florence Barnett, who grew up in the home.

The other featured buildings: The ONG Building at 7th and Boston, Philcade, Gillette-Tyrrell (Pythian) Building, Warehouse Market, Union Depot, the Fire Alarm Building, Will Rogers High School, Fairgrounds Pavilion, Tulsa Monument Co., City Veterinary, the Brook, Boulder on the Park (once home to Holland Hall and then KTUL radio), and several streamline residences, including the aforementioned home at 32nd and Utica.

There are fleeting glimpses of many other, more modest Art Deco buildings, and you begin to appreciate what a wealth of deco we enjoy in Tulsa.

Mixed in with modern footage of these Art Deco treasures are historic films related to these buildings from the period when they were built.

The show not only spotlights the buildings but the people who care for them: homeowners, business owners, restorers, preservationists, and even tourists. I enjoyed the interview with a couple from near Boston who were touring Route 66 and set aside extra time to tour Art Deco buildings in Tulsa. They downloaded a list of buildings from the Tulsa Preservation Commission website, then programmed the addresses into their GPS. It's a great example of how cultural heritage tourism can bring people to our city, if we're wise enough to preserve the artifacts of that heritage and to help visitors find and engage them.

(The only false note was an attempt at the end of the show to link the BOK Center to Art Deco. It's understandable, however, given that the video was sponsored by the Bank of Oklahoma and Matrix, which was part of the team that designed and engineered the BOKarena.)

KTUL channel 8 will show an abridged 30-minute preview of the DVD on Tuesday, December 2, at 7 p.m., but you will want to own the full hour-long DVD.

Here's the trailer:

The DVD includes nearly another half-hour of extras:

There are lengthy excerpts from a 1995 interview with historian Robert Powers, who passed away earlier this year. In addition to an extensive discussion of the Pythian Building, he explains why two of Tulsa's favorite "Art Deco" buildings -- the Adams Hotel and the Midcontinent Tower -- aren't really Art Deco at all.

There's a fascinating look at and inside J. Paul Getty's bunker/home on Virgin St. east of Sheridan. I'd heard about this poured concrete and glass block structure, built near Getty's Spartan Aircraft factory, and designed to protect him from storms and air raids, but I'd never seen what the inside looked like.

Another extra features the Tulsa Foundation for Architecture and TFA's collection of historic architectural drawings, along with more apt comments from the architects, historians, and Art Deco lovers who were interviewed for the video.

You can buy Tulsa Deco at Steve's Sundries, BOK branches, Walgreens, QuikTrip, and online at www.tulsafilms.com.

In last week's issue of Urban Tulsa Weekly, I urged making cultural heritage tourism the focus of Tulsa's efforts to attract visitors. Rather than marketing Tulsa as an "ocean of sophistication in a cultural desert," Tulsa should embrace its place in Oklahoma as "the capital of a region where visitors can experience the untamed, exuberant spirit of the American West in all its variety."

For whatever reason, the people we pay to promote Tulsa to the world -- the Tulsa Metro Chamber's Convention and Visitors Bureau -- seem uncomfortable promoting the unique aspects of our region. They position Tulsa as superior to and separate from the rest of Oklahoma, an oasis of sophistication in a cultural desert.

It's a distinctly Midtown Money Belt point of view, and it makes Tulsans seem like a bunch of insecure, provincial rubes, putting on airs -- the urban equivalent of Hyacinth Bucket.

While we should be proud of the cultural amenities that make Tulsa a great place to live, our tourism marketing should focus on what sets our region apart from the rest of the world.

A Milanese woman who lives a few miles from La Scala and the salons of Versace and Prada isn't likely to visit Oklahoma for the opera or Utica Square shopping, but she might come here to eat a chicken fried steak on Route 66, experience Oklahoma! in an open-air theater, or attend a powwow.

A resident of Berlin wouldn't cross the pond to see a Tulsa production of the plays of Bertolt Brecht, but he might travel here to two-step across Cain's curly maple dance floor, search out Ponyboy Curtis's hangouts, or attend the annual Kenneth Hagin Campmeeting -- depending on his particular passions.

Tulsa should position itself not as an enclave of Eastern sophistication but as the capital of a region where visitors can experience the untamed, exuberant spirit of the American West in all its variety.