Appendix C: Selected Tulsa Race Riot Dinner Party Roles
Dick Rowland: I dropped out of high school to take a job shining shoes in a white-owned and white-patronized shine parlor located downtown on Main Street. Shoe shines usually cost a dime in those days, but we were often tipped a nickel for each shine, and sometimes more. On a busy day, I pocketed a fair amount of money. As a young African American man with few other job prospects, this was a good job. There were no toilet facilities for blacks at the shine parlor where I worked. The owner had arranged for his African American employees to use a "Colored" restroom located, nearby, in the Drexel. To get to the washroom, located on the top floor, I rode in the building's elevator. On the day the riot started, Sarah Page operated the elevator. I went to get on the elevator, and I tripped because the elevator hadn't stopped properly at the floor. As I tried to catch my fall, I grabbed onto the arm of Sarah Page, who then screamed. A clerk from a clothing store heard the scream and saw me running out of the building. He called the police and said I attempted to rape Sarah Page. The next day I was arrested. I feared for my life because in those days, black men were lynched frequently, without trial. I did not attempt to rape Sarah Page. Later, I was acquitted when Page refused to press charges. I was cleared and all charges were dropped, but not before hundreds were killed and Greenwood was burned to the ground.
B.C. Franklin: I was one of the few African American attorneys in Greenwood, that's what the Black section of Tulsa was called back then. I was sitting in the courtroom during a recess in a trial when I overheard some other lawyers discussing the alleged rape attempt. I knew Dick Rowland and I didn't believe the charges against him. But the white newspapers in town stirred up the town folk with a headline that read "Nab Negro for Attacking Girl in Elevator." After the lynching that had occurred over the past few years, I knew it was a possibility that could happen to Rowland. Certainly, there was a sense that if the law was going to be upheld so that a black man could get a fair trial, then it would be through the actions of black men, not through official means. When black soldiers returned from fighting in World War 1, they had enough of being second-class citizens after fighting for other people's freedom. They were willing to take action. My law officers were burned to the ground during the riot. I re-opened my law offices in a tent.
Sheriff Willard McCullough: I was sheriff at the time that Dick Rowland was brought to jail and charged with attempted rape. Tempers were running high with both blacks and white. I was not going to have a lynch mob do the same thing to Dick Rowland on my watch. I put Rowland in the hands of deputies in a secure part of the building. I told them to take the elevator to the top floor and disable it. I also told the officers to shoot anyone, including me, who came to get Rowland. The crowds gathered. I asked Deputy Barney Cleaver, a black officer, and C.F. Gabe to get the blacks to go home. I tried to get the whites to disperse as well. Before the night was ended, there were about 2000 white men gathered at the courthouse. Then a bunch of them tried to get guns at the National Guard Armory. When they didn't get guns there, they broke into Bardon's Sporting Goods and took guns and ammunition. Once the first shot was fired, all hell broke loose. People ask what happened. Here's what I know: Some white man tried to disarm a black man and the gun went off during that scuffle. Later that night I saw men who Police Commissioner Adkinson deputized burning and looting in Greenwood, the black section of Tulsa. They went all over South Tulsa, taking black servants from their white employees. Everyone had guns and the police seemed to be behind it.
Police Commissioner Jim Adkison:
Things were out of control in Greenwood. It was like a war zone. People were shooting each other. There was looting and burning. We had people storming the National Guard Armory. We were outnumbered. Police Chief Gustafson called in his entire force—around 65 men—and I began commissioning over 400 folks to serve as deputies to help restore order. Remember, there were thousands of people running the streets that night. Of course, in retrospect, I should have been more careful about the selection of men we deputized and armed. But it was a very tense situation. We never told anyone to kill black people or torch their homes. Our instructions were to disarm people and to absolutely prevent looting and burning.
Mary Parrish: I was a teacher in Greenwood before the riots. Shortly after the riots, I published a book of my recollections called Events of the Tulsa Disaster. When I looked out the window of my apartment building on the morning of June 1, 1921, I saw armed white men gathering near the granary. I left the building, running north on Greenwood Avenue, away from the machine gunfire. I saw the airplanes coming in and I thought it was WWI all over again. The National Guard might say they came in to protect the citizens of Greenwood, but by disarming the Black men and not disarming the white men, they allowed the destruction— looting and burning—of our community to happen.
Comments: