Black Wall Street (a fictional account) May 31, 1921. That date will always remain etched into my mind and soul. You see that was the date that everything began to change. That everything was no longer the way it was. That we were no longer what we had been. Our own. The beginning… My name is James Johnson, and I own a little store in Greenwood, a suburb of Tulsa in Oklahoma. A man named O.W. Gurley purchased land in 1906 with the express purpose of selling land to colored folk. This was unheard of at the time. A lot of prominent blacks lived in the area. I came west from New York looking to start a new life. To forget her. She who had broken my heart. I purchased a store with the money that I brought with me and began to eke out an honest living. I even was able to love again. I married sweet Regina, a local girl and even though we were not able to have children, we adopted a child that had been left at the church steps. Our shop grew along with everything in the area. Prosperity was good. There were more airplanes owned by our people (6) than the whole state of Oklahoma (2). Everything was going well. Or so we thought. The elevator… May 30, 1921. A nice day in greenwood. Children playing, a band playing in the park. Business was good. What we didn’t know that around the corner at the Drexel building action were playing out in a way that would change our way of life. Forever. Dick Rowland, and Sarah Page. A worker and the elevator operator. According to whom you talked to were dating or not. No one actually knows what happed in that elevator, but we do know that the woman claimed rape, and he was arrested. It all went downhill from there. Arrested and put in jail, we were all in fear of his life. None of us thought that we would ever see him again. The riots… May 31, 1921. I opened my shop as I normally did. Spoke to some of the other shopkeepers, and waited for Regina to come down to the shop with little James like she always did. There was a buzz in the air about the arrested man sitting at the jail. There had been a mob of white folks down at the jail all night. So far nothing had happened. So far… I was in the shop talking with Regina when there was a big fuss outside. I walked out to see what was wrong. A group of blacks were arguing about the headlines in the paper. The Tulsa tribune put out the afternoon edition about 3. I wouldn’t use that waste of a rag to wipe a bears butt. But others swore by it. The headline said “negro nabbed for attacking white girl in elevator. There was an ill wind blowing, and I needed to get my family away. I told Regina to take little James home and go to her family’s house, that way they would be safe. I boarded up the store and waited. 7:34 pm I’m here at the jail with some other blacks trying to save this boy’s life. The sheriff is determined there will be no lynching. The pawn shop owners opened their stores to the crowd. Now it’s 700 angry whites to 30 blacks and the sheriff and his crew. They were determined that he would die and we were determined that he wasn’t. More blacks and more whites came to the court house. All were armed. Our being there was being taken as a “negro uprising”. We were told to surrender our guns. Of course we said no. a shot was fired, no one knows by who. It has begun. June 1, 1921, 01:00 am We are in a fight for sure. Whites shooting innocent folks, burning shops. The National Guard is here, but have been no help. Over on Archer Street, there are buildings burning. Mobs would not let the fire department put the fires out, so the black owned businesses burn. Including mine. Blacks began to leave in a mass exodus to try and save themselves and their families. The mob fired on them as they wished. People were killed just trying to live. We tried to give as well as we got, but there were just too many. We could only do what we could Try to survive. Daybreak… it arrived to the sound of a lonely whistle. And all hell broke loose. Fires had been burning since last night. None were allowed to be put out. Now with the sunrise a new threat arose. Airplanes. Biplanes left over from war training now be came the seeds of our destruction. Homemade bombs and gunfire rained down upon us. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Black and whites were killed or injured. It didn’t matter. Jealousy from those that coveted what we had took the opportunity to loot, burn and destroy. I was able to make it to Regina’s family. The car was packed and we all left. There was nothing left for us here. For any of us. Epilogue I finally came back to greenwood for the first time. Little James said it was time to return and to bury all the feelings that we had over the years. There was also one other reason to come back. To lay Regina to rest in the town of her birth. As we travel along archer and greenwood, some of the buildings still remain. But not many. There are plaques lain into the sidewalks where some of the buildings once stood. Tears came to my eyes to see the plaque where my store one stood. I was glad that Regina was not here to see this. It would have broken her heart. They said that that only 36 people lost their lives, but others said around 300 were killed. Picked up and thrown on flatbed trucks, buried in unmarked graves. Over 1200+ buildings and businesses were burned, looted, or both. About 1.8 million in damages. The sheriff was charged with not doing his job, but never served any time. Rowland stayed safe in jail and was taken out of town in secrecy. The charges were dropped and he never returned to Tulsa. It’s time to go home now, I made my home elsewhere, but this was a chapter in my life that I had to close. And now it’s done. May those that died here rest in peace. The End Thanks to greenwood historian Lee Alford for background information for this piece. ©aa2014
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 00:07:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015