Black Wall Street (Excerpt from Sunday Best)

It was around noon when they reached Greenwood Township, north of Tulsa. With Greenwood just over a tiny hill, Jimmy suddenly pulled the jeep over by the side of the road. Then he turned to Deacon, a remorseful look on his face.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Deacon. But it was the only way. I have no family here,” he said then paused for a long while. “I brought you here to show you something.” Then he exited the jeep and began trekking to the top of the hill, the sun on his neck. Deacon watched him awhile before following him up. Once they reached the top of the hill, Jimmy stood staring out over the valley below. Surrounded by quilt work patches of fertile farmland was the town of Greenwood.

“What is this all about, Jimmy,” Deacon asked. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Because you wouldn’t have come if I didn’t.” There was another pause then he spoke. “Down there is the sight of the most successful Negro community in the history of this country. Just three decades ago there were 28 Negro towns in the state of Oklahoma.

“Originally the state was to be set aside for ex-slaves and Indians. Remarkably, the government upheld their promise here. For a portion of the growing population, forty acres and a mule was more than just a promise.

“As a result, many colored folk migrated here, most of who became small farmers. It wasn’t long before the soil was spurting the stuff of dreams. Some were even fortunate enough to strike oil.

“With the oil money, as well as the profits from the cash crops, the small town of Greenwood prospered. While the town was made up of coloreds and whites, the colored folks lived unto themselves. In a short time, the population of coloreds grew to fifteen thousand.

“At its height the town included over six-hundred colored owned business including: restaurants, cab services, laundries, drug stores, jewelry stores, clothing stores, insurance companies, and even a bank.

“Greenwood began to be called Little Africa and much later Black Wall Street. The town’s prosperity attracted colored doctors, dentist, and lawyers. The town went on to build two public schools, a hospital, a library, a bus system, and even a medical school.

“Colored folk spent their money with other colored folks. The result was financially, social, and political independence. More importantly, Little Africa represented a movement that, in time, would offer a model for all Negro communities throughout Oklahoma and the whole of the U.S.A.

“Pardon me folks,” came a voice from behind. Both men turned to see a lone Negro man, looked to be in his twenties, standing behind them. “I saw your army jeep and thought that I’d stop.”

“Are we trespassing on your land? If we are, we’ll just be moving on,” said Deacon, nudging Jimmy.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. This here piece of land belongs to Mr. Durbro. I had a hunch that y’all might be Army surveyors, so I stopped.” Deacon and Jimmy looked at each other in confusion. “I thought the army maybe had the notion of putting a base in Greenwood. The town could sure use it.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Jimmy replied. The man suddenly looked uncomfortable being there. “Anyway, my names Jimmy and this here is Deacon.”

“My name’s J.C. Latimore, but my friends just call me J.C.” After shaking hands, Jimmy continued.

“My friend and I were just discussing your town.” Now it was the man who looked confused.

“You don’t say.”

“I was just giving my friend here the history of Little Africa.”

“I haven’t heard that name in some time. White folks are kinda touchy when it comes to the subject. And, us folks just as soon let the name stay buried.”

“Would you mind telling my friend what happened to the most successful Negro community in the history of this country, that is if you don’t have somewhere you need to be.”

“No, there’s no particular place I oughta be right now.”

“Were you living here when it happened,” asked Jimmy, respectfully.

“Yessiree, right down there where Archer and Pine Streets overlap. My people came to Oklahoma a short spell before I was born. You could say they were looking for a better life. Like most colored folks, they worked from sunup to sundown trying to eke out a better life for themselves.

“My daddy fought overseas in the big war. The French gave him a metal. With the money he saved, he bought a piece of land, working one half and renting out the other. My momma started a small dress shop, one of several in town catering to whites as well as colored.

“Like you said, they helped to build the most prosperous town in these here parts. It was the envy of even white folks. And, there in lied the problem. Most were immigrants, only arrived in this country a short spell. They hated to see coloreds in suits and ties while they were outfitted with darn near rags.

“I was five when the ruckus commenced. I remember playing in the yard out in back of mamma’s shop when she came a running. Even at that age, I knew that something was wrong. You see mamma was pregnant and told to take it slow by the doctor. The street quickly filled with townspeople.

“According to the story, a colored man entering on to an elevator had tripped and fell into a white girl. In no time at all, white folks twisted the story and had the colored man attacking the white girl. He was soon arrested. Well everyone knew what that meant.

“You see, the Klan was just four blocks away, north of Greenwood Ave. They had already fetched the rope and hoods. Some of our men folks were bent on preventing that lynch party. Armed with old horse pistols and hunting rifles, they marched down to the courthouse demanding a fair trial.”

The man paused and walked a few steps closer to the edge of the hill and stared down at the town below. It was as if he could see the crowds in the streets. He started to dislodge a stubborn patch of grass from its place with the toe of his boot.

“You don’t have to continue if the memories are causing you grief,” said Deacon. The man turned to back to them. Ignoring Deacon’s remark, he continued.

“The whites tried disarming the colored men. That’s when the shooting commenced. The colored men retreated back to the colored part of town, determined to a man to stand their ground. But, the whites outnumbered them and they were quickly overrun. After driving us off, the whites moved in looting colored homes and stores. To conceal their crimes, they set fired to everything.

“By nightfall, the white mob had grown into the thousands with planes joining the attack, fire booming and shooting colored people wherever they found them. A slaughter is what it was.

“Screaming women and children were strung up from lamplights when they were caught trying to escape. The Klan, supported by town officials, ran rampart through our town searching for more coloreds to kill.

“Mamma carried me to the edge of town near the rail yard where other coloreds had gathered. The mob soon surrounded us. But, it seemed they were less willing to shoot us down out in the open and all.

“By nightfall the state militia arrived in boxcars. I remember seeing them loading off the trains. When the soldiers showed up, the mob dispersed. Hood and robes were discarded before melting back into the crowd. By now, Greenwood was a raging inferno.

“Instead of arresting the Klan, the soldiers commenced to arresting the colored men, leaving women and children at the mercy of the attackers. Momma, fearing the worst, took me and fled town.

We avoided the roads as trucks filled with angry whites were headed for Greenwood. As we passed white farm houses, some looked on in pity, while some cursed us. And, others just smiled; seeming to enjoy the sight of us brought low.”

“How did you finally escape,” asked Jimmy.

“One of the white women that Momma sold dresses to took us in and hid us in her attic. From there we could see the black smoke billowing high into the air. Momma gave birth that night, but the baby wasn’t ready to come into the world and it died. Momma placed it in a shoe box and we took it with us when we returned to town days later to look for daddy.”

“Did you find him,” asked Deacon, hesitantly.

“They had hung him, cutting out his tongue. My father was always considered uppity for owning his own land and standing up for himself. We buried him with the baby on our land. After which, momma wasn’t long for this world. The doctors used lots of big words to explain her death. But, if you ask me it was heartache that killed her.”

“Did the colored people of Greenwood rebuild,” Jimmy inquired, clearly hoping that they did.

“Yes, we will never stop trying to honor our dead,” said the man, fighting back the tears. There was a long silence as neither soldier knew what to say next. “Where y’all headed?”

“We headed back to Texas where we’re stationed,” answered Jimmy.

“That’s a good piece from here. Y’all better get goin’. Folks around here don’t take to well to strangers, especially colored boys in uniform. And, gas up down at Mr. Cheney’s grocery. He won’t bother you much. Then drive without stopping. Whatever you do, don’t stray from the main road.