A. Robert Allen's Blog

On August 6, 1945, the Enola Gay, an American B29, dropped an atomic bomb nicknamed, Little Boy, on the city of Hiroshima.  Three days later, another bomb, Fat Boy, devastated Nagasaki.  A combined total of 120,000 people were immediately killed in these attacks.  Tens of thousands more died later of their injuries.  After the second bombing, Japan’s Emperor Hirohito publicly surrendered.  This August marks the 75th anniversary of these events, which effectively ended World War II and ushered in a new conflict that we would later refer to as the Cold War.

The United States has the dubious honor of being the only country to ever deploy an atomic bomb against another nation.  This decision was made by Harry S. Truman in his fourth month as President of the United States and just three months after the end of the war with Germany. In the weeks leading up to the bombings, America was weary of war.  Japan had no hope of winning but swore to fight to the bitter end.  American casualties had been very heavy in recent weeks—actually, the heaviest of the war. Truman considered, but decided against demonstrating the bomb on an uninhabited island because only two bombs had been produced.  The prospect of using half the inventory on a demonstration that could be a failure, did not seem prudent. Truman received estimates that as many as one million casualties would result from an invasion of Japan and likely compared this to estimates of the death toll from the atomic bombs.  I can only assume that this pushed him toward his ultimate decision.  Truman’s hope was that utilizing this new weapon in this deadly manner would bring about a swift end to the war.

Truman demanded that the Japanese surrender at the end of July and promised prompt and utter destruction if they did not—he kept his word.  There are arguments both against and in support of America’s use of atomic weapons in 1945 and while I can intellectually process the case against, I also appreciate the fact that my father was on a boat headed for Japan to be part of the invasion.  As it turns out, he became part of the occupying force, instead of a potential casualty.

Right or wrong, what happened, happened.  These events caused the Soviet Union to move faster toward the development of their own bomb, which they had by 1949.  The two countries then spent the next several decades matching each other as they built their respective nuclear arsenals.  One interesting result of the arms race was that since both sides had the weapon, the likelihood of ever using it again decreased considerably.

How do I feel about all of this?  Happy for my father, happy for myself (personally), and sad for all of the Japanese civilians who died in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  I also feel for the weight of the decision that Harry S. Truman was forced to make so early in his tenure as President.  I must mention, however, that one comment taken from his official statement after the first bombing gave me pause.  He stated, “The Japanese began this war from the air at Pearl Harbor.  They have been repaid many fold.” That remark likely played much better in 1945.  Years later, it implies a whole different type of motivation.

Juneteenth is the day in 1865 (June 19) when news of emancipation reached the enslaved population in Texas.  Many people are either hearing about it now for the first time or expressing an interest in learning more about it because of our current demands for racial justice and change.  Some are surprised when they hear that the large slave population in Texas didn’t know on June 19, 1865 about the Emancipation Proclamation, which was issued two years earlier.  Given that people consider this proclamation to have effectively ended slavery, they can’t understand how slaves in Texas were unaware—almost like the story of people on an isolated island who continue fighting a war that ended on the mainland long ago.  The best way to understand all of this is through a simple timeline and the clarification of a few important events.

September 22, 1862- Abraham Lincoln issues the Emancipation Proclamation (effective January 1, 1863), which is widely considered to have ended slavery.  This conclusion, however, is incorrect and both oversimplifies and overstates the impact of the action.  The Emancipation Proclamation officially ended slavery in the states in rebellion (the Confederate States), but not any of the border states, which were still part of the union.  We must remember that the Confederate states considered themselves to be a sovereign nation, so they did not view Lincoln’s proclamation as being the law of the land.  It did have an effect, however, because when slaves in the South learned of it, they understood that they could achieve freedom by escaping North or waiting to be liberated by the Union Army.  This served to further incentivize slaves to seek their own freedom or provide assistance to the Union Army upon its arrival.  It also declared to the powers in Europe that the Union had expanded the goal of the war to include the abolishment of slavery, which had not been a stated war objective prior to that time.  Europe was firmly anti-slavery and this eliminated any possibility of an alliance between the European powers and the South.  The State of Texas was perhaps least impacted of all the Confederate states by the proclamation for all of the reasons mentioned above as well as how far removed it was from both the North and the Union Army.

April 9, 1865- Robert E. Lee surrenders to Ulysses S. Grant at the Appomatox Court House effectively ending the war. Some wonder why this action didn’t immediately end slavery in the South, but we must remember that news traveled much slower in those days.  Word did reach Texas by the end of April, but the Confederate Army of the Trans-Mississippi did not surrender until June 2, 1865.

June 18, 1865- Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston with 2000 federal troops to occupy Texas.  At this point, the Emancipation Proclamation had long since been in effect, General Robert E. Lee had surrendered, the nearby Army of the Trans-Mississippi had also surrendered, and now there was a substantial federal presence to enforce the end of slavery.  The day after his arrival (June 19, 1865), General Granger made the following announcement on the balcony of Galveston’s Ashton Villa:

“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with the proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.  This involves an absolute equality of rights of property between former masters and slaves and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired laborer.”

The celebration of June 19th as Juneteenth continued annually for many years until it lost some popularity in the early 1900s.  It then experienced a great resurgence during the Civil Rights Movements of the 1950s and 1960s.  In 1980, the State of Texas recognized it as a state holiday and now three other states (Virginia, New York, and Pennsylvania) do so as well.  I’m pleased to report that in 2020, another resurgence of interest in Juneteenth has been duly noted and the possibility of a national holiday is on the horizon,

Many of us have become glued to the news about the coronavirus crisis.  We read about it online, listen to reports on the radio, and watch the news coverage on television.  In New York, we tune into Governor Andrew Cuomo’s daily lunchtime briefings as well as the federal press conferences, which feature the President, Vice President, Dr. Anthony Fauci and Dr. Deborah Birx.  Regardless of the source, references to the Spanish Flu of 1918 are often made, but never truly explained.  This is why I spent a little time today Googling in order to put together this quick description of what happened about one hundred years ago.

Background

The Spanish Flu of 1918 was an H1N1 virus with an avian origin. There never was any consensus as to where it started, although many people assume it was first reported in Spain, hence the name.  The fact of the matter, however, is that the first officially reported case was in the United States and related to military personnel.

The virus was referred to as the Spanish Flu because all of the early news coverage came out of Spain.  Coverage in the United States and most of the other European countries was censored as governments tried to maintain morale during the wartime years—the Great War, which later became referred to as World War I, ran from 1914 – 1918.  Spain remained neutral throughout the war and had a media that was free of wartime censorship.  Given the heavy news coverage of the virus coming out of Spain, people assumed it to be the origin of the disease.  Spaniards, however, referred to the virus as the French Flu.

The 1918 influenza pandemic was the most severe pandemic in recent history.  It is estimated that 500 million people were infected with about 50 million deaths (675,000 in the United States). The death toll was so high, in fact, that more U.S. soldiers died from the Spanish Flu than were killed in battle during the Great War.

Medical Treatments

The Spanish Flu was particularly deadly for children under five-years-old, young people from 20 – 40, and those 65+.  Oddly, those who were between 41 and 59 appeared to have a lower mortality rate.  No vaccine was available to protect against infection, no antivirals existed to treat the root disease, and no antibiotics were available to treat secondary infections.  In addition, the war created a shortage of physicians in many parts of the United States.  Hospitals were so stressed that schools and other buildings were converted into temporary medical facilities staffed by medical students.

Due to the limited options for treatment, many physicians prescribed aspirin, which had been trademarked by Bayer in 1899, as a way to address the symptoms.  With the expiration of their patent in 1917, other companies were able to produce aspirin making it readily available.  Doctors over-prescribed it, however, sometimes at a level of 30 grams per day.  Modern guidance limits aspirin consumption to 4 grams per day.  As a result, many patients who were already struggling with the Spanish Flu developed aspirin poisoning, which contributed to the build-up of fluids in the lungs.  Some of the deaths attributed to the virus were actually the result of this overuse of aspirin.

Government Efforts

Due to the lack of medical treatments, government interventions were limited to isolation, quarantine, use of disinfectants, and controls on public gatherings.  In some cases, people were ordered to wear masks and advised to avoid shaking hands.  Some cities and states handled it better than others, however.  Philadelphia, for example, made the mistake of permitting a large parade with tens of thousands of people to take place in September of 1918.  Within ten days of that parade, 200,000 people became sick and over 1000 died.  In contrast, St. Louis was a good example of effective governmental controls as the authorities closed schools and movie theaters and banned public gatherings.  The mortality rate in St. Louis was just one-eighth of Philadelphia.

The Four Waves and The End

The first wave of the pandemic was mild and occurred in the spring of 1918.  Infected people typically recovered after several days and the death rate was low. A second and more contagious wave of the virus appeared in the Fall, however, and many people died a short time after developing symptoms. The highest fatality rate of the pandemic took place in October of 1918.

The third wave of the flu began in early 1919 and lasted through mid-year impacting a few European countries and Mexico.  This wave was less severe than the second, but worse than the first.  A fourth and final wave hit selected areas like New York City and the U.K. later in 1919.  Very few people died in this last wave.  By the summer of 1920, the flu pandemic came to an end, as those who were infected either died or developed immunity.

Many of us have become glued to the news about the coronavirus crisis.  We read about it online, listen to reports on the radio, and watch the news coverage on television.  In New York, we tune into Governor Andrew Cuomo’s daily lunchtime briefings as well as the federal press conferences, which feature the President, Vice President, Dr. Anthony Fauci and Dr. Deborah Birx.  Regardless of the source, references to the Spanish Flu of 1918 are often made, but never truly explained.  This is why I spent a little time today Googling in order to put together this quick description of what happened about one hundred years ago.

Background

The Spanish Flu of 1918 was an H1N1 virus with an avian origin. There never was any consensus as to where it started, although many people assume it was first reported in Spain, hence the name.  The fact of the matter, however, is that the first officially reported case was in the United States and related to military personnel.

The virus was referred to as the Spanish Flu because all of the early news coverage came out of Spain.  Coverage in the United States and most of the other European countries was censored as governments tried to maintain morale during the wartime years—the Great War, which later became referred to as World War I, ran from 1914 – 1918.  Spain remained neutral throughout the war and had a media that was free of wartime censorship.  Given the heavy news coverage of the virus coming out of Spain, people assumed it to be the origin of the disease.  Spaniards, however, referred to the virus as the French Flu.

The 1918 influenza pandemic was the most severe pandemic in recent history.  It is estimated that 500 million people were infected with about 50 million deaths (675,000 in the United States). The death toll was so high, in fact, that more U.S. soldiers died from the Spanish Flu than were killed in battle during the Great War.

Medical Treatments

The Spanish Flu was particularly deadly for children under five-years-old, young people from 20 – 40, and those 65+.  Oddly, those who were between 41 and 59 appeared to have a lower mortality rate.  No vaccine was available to protect against infection, no antivirals existed to treat the root disease, and no antibiotics were available to treat secondary infections.  In addition, the war created a shortage of physicians in many parts of the United States.  Hospitals were so stressed that schools and other buildings were converted into temporary medical facilities staffed by medical students.

Due to the limited options for treatment, many physicians prescribed aspirin, which had been trademarked by Bayer in 1899, as a way to address the symptoms.  With the expiration of their patent in 1917, other companies were able to produce aspirin making it readily available.  Doctors over-prescribed it, however, sometimes at a level of 30 grams per day.  Modern guidance limits aspirin consumption to 4 grams per day.  As a result, many patients who were already struggling with the Spanish Flu developed aspirin poisoning, which contributed to the build-up of fluids in the lungs.  Some of the deaths attributed to the virus were actually the result of this overuse of aspirin.

Government Efforts

Due to the lack of medical treatments, government interventions were limited to isolation, quarantine, use of disinfectants, and controls on public gatherings.  In some cases, people were ordered to wear masks and advised to avoid shaking hands.  Some cities and states handled it better than others, however.  Philadelphia, for example, made the mistake of permitting a large parade with tens of thousands of people to take place in September of 2018.  Within ten days of that parade, 200,000 people became sick and over 1000 died.  In contrast, St. Louis was a good example of effective governmental controls as the authorities closed schools and movie theaters and banned public gatherings.  The mortality rate in St. Louis was just one-eighth of Philadelphia.

The Four Waves and The End

The first wave of the pandemic was mild and occurred in the spring of 1918.  Infected people typically recovered after several days and the death rate was low. A second and more contagious wave of the virus appeared in the Fall, however, and many people died a short time after developing symptoms. The highest fatality rate of the pandemic took place in October of 2018.

The third wave of the flu began in early 2019 and lasted through mid-year impacting a few European countries and Mexico.  This wave was less severe than the second, but worse than the first.  A fourth and final wave hit selected areas like New York City and the U.K. later in 2019.  Very few people died in this last wave.  By the summer of 1920, the flu pandemic came to an end, as those who were infected either died or developed immunity.

Each of my novels marches forward in time extending the theme of either the direct or after-effects of slavery. I began with Failed Moments, a fictional account of my ancestors, which took place in the 1790s and mid 1800s. My second novel, A Wave From Mama, was set in Brooklyn in the 1880s and the third, Minetta Lane, in downtown Manhattan in the early 1900s. My last novel, Living in the Middle, started in New York in 1915 and ended in Tulsa Oklahoma during the Race Riots of 1920. For the fifth and perhaps final novel in my Slavery and Beyond Series, I’m continuing to move forward in time while also returning to my own family’s roots.   This novel will take place during the 1930s in New York, when my family was caught up with Bumpy Johnson, who provided muscle for Queen Stephanie St. Clair’s numbers racket in Harlem during the period she was at war with the gangster, Dutch Schultz.

My mother grew up in a household where her Aunt Rita was the banker in St. Clair’s numbers (policy) racket. Given Aunt Rita’s close connection with Bumpy Johnson, my mom, who was in her teens, was often asked to babysit his girlfriend’s kids. My mother hated him, but I’m yet to discover the underlying reason for this deep hatred. Johnson became known as a powerful figure during the 30s and his reputation grew with each passing decade. As I considered this topic for my next book, I watched the Laurence Fishburne movie, Hoodlum, which portrayed the Bumpy Johnson of the 30s. The end of that movie was followed by an advertisement for a new television series, Godfather of Harlem, starring Forest Whittaker as an older Bumpy Johnson in the 1960s. Stumbling across both of these films/shows as I considered the subject of my next book served to reinforce my decision.

The dynamics in my family (my mother’s side) in the 1920s and 30s were interesting. My grandfather grew up as a wealthy child and considered himself to be a gentleman. His appearance was Black, but he viewed the world in terms of class, not race, and he was on the top rung of that ladder. He often pointed to the fact that his birth certificate actually contained the label of “gentleman.” Working was beneath him, so he never spent much time in that endeavor. He was known to lock himself in his bedroom for hours at a time where he alternated between reading and bemoaning his fate—my grandfather grew up in Trinidad with wealth and status, but his father (my great-grandfather) lost the family fortune in the late 1910s. My grandfather’s sister, who I called Aunt Rita, was the opposite. She didn’t focus on what could or should have been. She embraced her circumstances, hustled, and found opportunities. By the early 1930s, she was a key figure in St. Clair’s policy (numbers) operation. This illegal income supported the family for years and prompted my grandfather to refer to his sister as a whore. She, in turn, called him a pimp, who was more than happy to live off her ill-gotten gains. Aunt Rita wound up fleeing the country to France with Henry Miro, who was known as the Policy King of Harlem, in the mid-30s. He was arrested upon their return. Luckily, Aunt Rita stayed out of jail.

In the1920s, my family was listed as Black on official census forms and in the 1930s, they were White. It seems as if the classification depended upon who opened the door and took part in the interview. Issues of race, class, and opportunity were prominent themes in my family during the 1930s and I plan to fully explore them in this next book. My process takes almost a year from research to final product. Some of my research will involve interviewing my mom, who at 95+ years-of-age is starting to lose touch with reality. I think if I’m both patient and persistent, she will provide the kind of insight that I won’t be able to find anywhere else. Starting a new book is exciting and I’m looking forward to the process. I’ll keep you updated along the way!

I went out early this morning for coffee and sat in an outdoor café as I clicked around the web. I was drawn to a review by Deborah E. Lipstadt of the book, “Learning from the Germans, Race and the Memory of Evil, written by Susan Neiman. The author grew up in Germany and moved to Mississippi, which provided her with a unique vantage point to compare what she refers to as the “comparative redemption” of Germany and America related to the Holocaust and the institution of slavery.

I was aware that some reparations had been paid to the State of Israel and survivors of the Holocaust beginning in the early 1950s, but didn’t realize the extent to which responsibility was evaded during the first two decades following the end of the war. Communist East Germany claimed that all of the former Nazi’s were in West Germany and the West claimed that only the Third Reich’s leadership knew of the mass murder of Jews. West Germans also maintained that German soldiers fought honorably for their country and were not criminals. The bottom line, neither side accepted responsibility.

In the mid-1960s, the children and grandchildren of those responsible for the Holocaust began to struggle with their families’ crimes and demanded an honest accounting of past wrongs. Since then, Germany has taken steps to publicly accept responsibility. One example of that is a monument erected in the heart of Berlin that stands as a memorial to the six million Jews who were murdered during the Holocaust.

In the United States, over a century-and-a-half has passed since the end of the Civil War and it seems like we are still in Germany’s initial twenty-year period of denial and failure to accept responsibility. Instead of future generations wanting an honest accounting and a chance to remember and address the ongoing legacy of slavery, the descendants of American slave-owners make the point that they bear no personal responsibility for the crimes of their fathers.   In addition, we still hear arguments supporting the appropriateness of monuments that honor the Confederacy and the efforts of honorable Confederate soldiers, as if these symbols do not detract from the need to acknowledge and memorialize the victims of slavery. Why can’t we move past this? What fundamental differences in the two cultures created this great divide in comparative redemption? I guess I’ll buy the book and get the author’s take on these important questions.

Lipstadt ended her review with the following quote by Faulkner, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”   Food for thought.

The long-standing issue of reparations for slavery was the focus of a congressional hearing a few weeks ago. My last book, Living in the Middle, also touches on this topic—it includes a section that describes a commission established in Oklahoma in 1996, seventy-five years after the Tulsa Race Riots. This commission was given the charge to determine the appropriateness of paying reparations to the few remaining survivors of the Black District of Greenwood, also known as Black Wall Street, which was burned to the ground in the riots of 1921. The commission recommended reparations, but the state decided to offer a different kind of compensation. Similarly, the U.S. government has considered reparations for slavery many times over the years, but none of these proposals were successful.

I decided to do a little reading regarding reparations and came across the well-known 2014 article in The Atlantic, The Case for Reparations, by Ta-Nehisi Coates, who makes a compelling case. Here is an excerpt from his piece:

What I’m talking about is more than recompense for past injustices—more than a handout, a payoff, hush money, or a reluctant bribe. What I’m talking about is a national reckoning that would lead to spiritual renewal. Reparations would mean the end of scarfing hot dogs on the Fourth of July while denying the facts of our heritage. Reparations would mean the end of yelling “patriotism” while waving a Confederate flag. Reparations would mean a revolution of the American consciousness, a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history.

I continued with some additional research on the topic and I wasn’t surprised with what I found. Reparations tend to be paid immediately following a conflict, when the victor has the power to dictate terms. Germany paid dearly after WWI and WWII. Japan and Italy also paid significant amounts after WWII. In all of these cases, the losing side tried to negotiate the best possible deal, but had no doubt that reparations would, in fact, be required. Immediate reparations are more likely than delayed reparations because after the conclusion of a war, the very parties who prosecuted the hostilities become responsible for paying the penalties. Any substantial delay in establishing reparations creates the argument that we heard during the recent hearing: the individual slave owners are long gone, along with (in the eyes of many) any present day sense of blame or guilt.  I won’t focus on the arguments against this position—there are several and they were all repeated in the recent news coverage of the hearing. Instead, I’ll address what I consider to be the obvious question: why weren’t reparations paid immediately after the end of the Civil War?

If the power of the victor dictates the terms of the surrender, couldn’t the North have dictated terms to the South that involved reparations for former slaves? The simple answer to this question is yes, but the unfortunate fact is that there were three sides in the war. The victorious North, the defeated South, and the former slaves, who were somewhere in the middle—they received a kind of freedom, but never gained any power as a result of the victory. That power rested with the authorities in the North, who sought to protect their interests, the foremost of which was the maintenance of the Union and the resumption of commerce with the South. In addition, the former slave owners argued that they did, in fact, pay reparations—they lost their most valuable asset (slaves) without compensation. In their eyes, they paid dearly.

What happened instead of reparations at the end of the war was a period spanning almost 100 years during which the South found ways to creatively continue a version of the old slavery-based economic structure, executed though a new “sharecropper system” coupled with Black Code/Jim Crow laws. Former slaves had no chance of receiving reparations in this environment. As the last generation of slave owners passed away, the descendants of the “masters” began making the argument that they should not pay for the sins of their fathers.

I continued researching to try to uncover any actual examples of reparations related to slavery. I immediately thought of St. Domingue (a former French colony in the Caribbean), which was the setting for a significant portion of my first book, Failed Moments. The slave revolution in the early 1800s in St. Domingue created the free Republic of Haiti. Reparations were paid as a result of this conflict, but not immediately. Twenty-five years after the creation of Haiti, the French Navy arrived with 12 warships armed with over 500 cannons and demanded reparations, but not for the former slaves—the French demanded compensation for the former plantation owners who lost their most valuable assets (their slaves).

Such is the sad history of reparations related to slavery and the likelihood of anything ever being paid to the descendants of American slaves decreases with each passing year. The talk of reparations, however, may lead us to gain a better understanding of the realities of the post-Civil War era and the additional work that needs to be done to make things right. So, with this goal in mind, let the dialogue continue.

Earlier this year, I published a blog entitled, Black Wall Street, which introduced the story of the Tulsa Race Riots — a sad day in 1921 when the prosperous Black neighborhood of Greenwood was invaded by White mobs from across the railroad tracks. In April, I published my book, Living in the Middle, which told the story of this terrible chapter in American history. The subject of this month’s blog will be the most compelling question posed by readers during the initial reaction to my book:

How could this incident, which remains the most deadly race riot in the history of the United States, be virtually unknown just a few generations later?

I addressed this question in my opening paragraph in Chapter 53 of Living in the Middle:

In the decades following the riot, White Tulsa filed the incident away with a combination of fact and fiction. Those involved chose not to discuss it and those who participated in the subsequent humanitarian efforts considered them to be an atonement for the riot itself. Most Blacks who returned to Greenwood did not want to relive their trauma through a rehashing of events. This conspiracy of silence on both sides of the racial divide was so complete that children born in the 1930s found it hard to believe something of this magnitude ever occurred.

Think about what I’m saying here: One group found a way to dress up the riot and tuck it away so completely that no one would ever know it happened. Another faction discovered a path to absolution by performing “good deeds” during the rebuilding. Those who were harmed, however, couldn’t even think about it. The combination of these three reactions created the “conspiracy of silence” I mentioned above.

When terrible events like this take place, we should all hope that they are recorded well and analyzed appropriately. Any lessons learned should then be actively taught to future generations. The idea that something of this significance could happen and then be forgotten is disrespectful to the hundreds who lost their lives that day as well as the thousands who needed to change their lives in the days that followed.

I write historical fiction because I enjoy weaving a fictional story line into true past events. As part of my process, I try to document mistakes made, lessons learned, and point out new directions taken. None of these constructive activities took place with the Tulsa Race Riots. We chose to forget and we chose to be silent. Two things we can’t ever let ourselves do…and that, is something to remember.

About thirty years after the end of the Civil War, a group fleeing
a hostile south settled an all-Black town in the territory of Oklahoma, about
80 miles west of Tulsa.  The founder of
the town, Edwin McCabe, had a vision of Oklahoma as the Black Promised Land and sent recruiters into the Deep South to
encourage others to move west.  By the
end of the 19th century, Oklahoma became the home of 29 separatist
Black towns. 

The vision for a Black state, however, vanished with the
discovery of oil in the late 1890s.  Whites
and Blacks alike descended on Tulsa from 1897 through the early 1900s as it
became an oil boomtown.  Black residents in
the territory continued to grow during the years leading up to statehood (1907)
and most flocked to the cities.  Tulsa was
one of the most popular destinations.

The Black population in Tulsa settled on the North side of the tracks and became known as Greenwood.  Many Greenwood residents made their livings working for Whites on the South side, but strict segregation laws prohibited them from shopping in White establishments.  This proved to be a boon for the economy of Greenwood, and businesses of all types sprung up to serve the growing community.  By 1921, Greenwood was the most affluent Black community in the United States, and was given the moniker, Black Wall Street.  Residents included lawyers, doctors, and business owners and its main strip boasted offices, auto shops, restaurants, hotels, funeral homes, pool halls, beauty salons, grocery stores, furriers, and theaters.

The wealth of Greenwood became a source of jealousy for many
Whites on the other side of the tracks.  These
tensions were fueled by KKK marches and cross-burnings.  Finally, a reported attack of a White woman by
a Black man (which later proved to be false) triggered what is generally regarded
as the biggest race riot in the history of the United States.  During the morning of June 1, 1921, Black Wall Street was invaded by White
mobs.  Over 1200 homes and close to 200
businesses were burned to the ground.  Approximately
300 people died and affluent Greenwood was reduced to rubble after the terrible
morning of violence.  National guardsmen
arrested the surviving 6000 residents of Greenwood, who could only be released
if a White resident ”vouched” for them. 
None of the White invaders were ever prosecuted for their crimes.

This terrible chapter in US history wasn’t spoken of for
generations and was finally brought to light in 1995 by an Oklahoma state
commission that was charged with investigating the incident and making a
recommendation regarding potential reparations for the few remaining survivors.  The commission did recommend reparations and also
produced the first accurate and comprehensive account of the riots, which
effectively ended the seventy-five year conspiracy of silence.

Black Wall Street
is the setting for my most recent novel of historical fiction, Living in the Middle, to be released May
2019.  I hope you enjoy it!

I lost my chance with my dad—there are so many little things I wished I asked him before he passed away, so I was determined not to make the same mistake with my mother. She is 94-years-old and I visit her every Sunday. We sit and talk as I help her with her bills. Mom has difficulty remembering things I told her a few hours ago, but her recollection of events dating back to the thirties and forties is truly remarkable. I thought I would write today about some stories she shared with me on a hot and sweltering Sunday afternoon in August.

“Mom, I don’t know how you live in this house with no air conditioning. It is 95 degrees outside today! I could never do it.” She laughed and said, “But you did do it for the first fifteen years of your life.” I wiped the perspiration from my neck and reflected for a moment. She was right—it seems like I blocked those years in my memory and only recall my high school days when my brother and I shared a small window air conditioning unit. She smirked as she asked, “Who’s got the bad memory now?” Mom dug into her chair and I did the same. A story was coming—the bills could wait.

“Back in the thirties, no one had air conditioning. That’s one of the reasons we saw so many movies in the summer. A few people got some relief at work, but most had to cope. Some folks pulled mattresses out onto the fire escape. Others slept on the beach or in the parks. It was tough, but we managed. This is nothing compared to back then.”

I never argue the point about things being tougher years ago, because generally it’s true. I got her a glass of water and she was ready to continue when I returned, “We rode the Broadway Trolley to catch a breeze, but the subways were unbearable. It was hot enough on the platform, but when the train pulled up and everyone packed into those unventilated cars, there was no escaping the heat. The men wore these linen suits that wrinkled with every movement and sported straw hats. Oh my God…those hats dug into their heads. Funniest damn thing, seeing all of the wrinkled men with lines on their foreheads.” She chuckled as she looked up and to the right.

It was my turn to contribute to the conversation, so I took out my phone and started to Google. Air conditioning was invented in 1902, movie theaters had systems in the 30s, and Packard automobiles started offering it as an option in 1939. The subways weren’t fully air conditioned until 1993. I imagined traveling each day on the subway and working in an office with a big fan. I suggested that it must have been terrible.   My mother agreed, “It was bad, but we did it. You do what you have to do. I’ve got a lot of memories with family trying to cool off in the summer. Actually,” she smiled, “It wasn’t all bad.”  Her grin broadened as I can only assume she recalled a great day in the park or a fun time on the fire escape.

I continued Googling and read about the roughly one hundred people who died on July 4,1872 from heat exhaustion and the unusual decree in the summer of 1923 by the mayor of New York, which officially opened all public parks overnight for sleeping. Another article mentioned the floating baths that the city set up in boats on the rivers. I included a scene on one of these special ships in my second book, “A Wave From Mama.”

The bills were almost done and I asked my mom if she wanted to escape the heat for a bit. She nodded her head. It wasn’t the 1930s, but an air conditioned movie theatre did the trick.   My thoughts turned to next Sunday as my mother thanked me for stopping by. I’m thankful that my parents taught me many of the big things at a young age, but I’m also happy to now have this private time on Sundays—even if it is 95 degrees—to hear about these little pearls from the past. I wonder what she’ll teach me next week!