Early in the twentieth century, the black community in Tulsa- the Greenwood District- became a nationally renowned entrepreneurial center. Frequently referred to as The Black Wall Street of America, the Greenwood District attracted pioneers from all over America who sought new opportunities and fresh challenges. Legal segregation forced blacks to do business among themselves. The Greenwood district prospered as dollars circulated within the black community. But fear and jealousy swelled in the greater Tulsa community. The alleged assault of a white woman by a black man triggered unprecedented civil unrest. The worst riot in American history, the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 destroyed people, property, hopes, and dreams. Hundreds of people died or were injured. Property damage ran into the millions. The Greenwood District burned to the ground. Ever courageous, the Greenwood District pioneers rebuilt and better than ever. By 1942, some 242 businesses called the Greenwood district home. Having experienced decline in the '60s, '70s, and early '80s, the area is now poised for yet another renaissance. Black Wall Street speaks to the triumph of the human spirit.
Searching for a better life, Mina, Papa, and Mama left their German fatherland aboard the brig Margaretha, bound for Texas. They had been told it was the paradise of North America, but when Mina steps onto the desolate beach at Indian Point on a cold December day in 1845, she wants to go back to Germany and Opa's cozy house in the village of Wehrestedt. But go on they must. In spite of mama's tragic death, Mina and Papa push inland with the Kaufmann family to the Texas Hill Country. There Mina encounters an Indian chief and his young daughter, Amaya, whose help she needs when Papa falls ill. Based on her ancestors' immigration to Texas, Janice Shefelman tells of a journey into the wilderness that is filled with hardship, tragedy and adventure.
The story of Bonnie and Clyde--their love, their desperate killings, and their destruction in an explosion of gun fire--has fueled an American legend more than seventy years. But it is only with this book by the last surviving officer of the six who shot Bonnie and Clyde that the full story of their capture has been told.
Ted Hinton's description of a secret, illegal police trap--hidden at the time from the press and public--is one of many revelations he draws from his intimate knowledge of the greatest manhunt of the 1930s. As a Dallas lawman he spent seventeen months, night and day, on the trail of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. He knew the notorious criminals personally from the seamy, hoodlum-ridden Dallas neighborhoods where they all grew up. He shared their code of toughness and genuinely admired the extraordinary courage, skill, and loyalty that made Bonnie and Clyde stand out almost as heroes in the public imagination. Hinton admired them, but he never doubted that they had to be stopped. The long trail could only end in a shootout and their deaths-or his.
Hinton's experiences as a green young sheriff's deputy and his compassion for outlaw lovers give Ambush an unusual dimension of humanity. Twenty-seven photographs underscore the book's vivid authenticity. And the author's meticulous research, using sources available to no one else, makes this the definitive work of fact. The result is a powerful human drama of crime and the law: the real story of Bonnie and Clyde.
A gripping account of rampant crime in Fort Worth, Texas, during the 1930s, through the 1950s, with hoodlums, gamblers, murderers, dopers, pimps, and lawmen on the take. The author recounts the days when Fort Worth was as wide open as Las Vegas with gambling and crime that rivaled New York and Chicago with mob hits, exploding cars, and late-night police raids. The personalities were larger than life, some went on to fame in other parts of the country such as Las Vegas gambling pioneer Benny Binion. While others met an early demise such as Herbert The Cat Noble.
Jacksboro Highway resembled The Strip in Las Vegas with casinos and night clubs that served as the epicenter for illegal activity, and the money and the blood flowed, while the law turned a blind eye to the mayhem. Ann Arnold gives a detailed account of almost two dozen gangland slayings and spills the beans, naming names of those indicted, complete with the final report of a special grand jury that ended the era.
Early in the twentieth century, the black community in Tulsa- the Greenwood District- became a nationally renowned entrepreneurial center. Frequently referred to as The Black Wall Street of America, the Greenwood District attracted pioneers from all over America who sought new opportunities and fresh challenges. Legal segregation forced blacks to do business among themselves. The Greenwood district prospered as dollars circulated within the black community. But fear and jealousy swelled in the greater Tulsa community. The alleged assault of a white woman by a black man triggered unprecedented civil unrest. The worst riot in American history, the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 destroyed people, property, hopes, and dreams. Hundreds of people died or were injured. Property damage ran into the millions. The Greenwood District burned to the ground. Ever courageous, the Greenwood District pioneers rebuilt and better than ever. By 1942, some 242 businesses called the Greenwood district home. Having experienced decline in the '60s, '70s, and early '80s, the area is now poised for yet another renaissance. Black Wall Street speaks to the triumph of the human spirit.
Black Wall Street 100: An American City Grapples with its Historical Racial Trauma, endorsed by the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission and the 400 Years of African American History Commission, furthers the educational mission of both bodies. The book offers updates on developments in Tulsa generally and in Tulsa's Greenwood District specifically since the publication of Hannibal B. Johnson's, Black Wall Street: From Riot to Renaissance in Tulsa's Historic Greenwood District.
Black Wall Street 100 is a window into what distinguishes the Tulsa of today from the Tulsa of a century ago. Before peering through that porthole, we must first reflect on Tulsa's Historic Greenwood District in all its splendor and squalor, from the prodigious entrepreneurial spirit that pervaded it to the carnage that characterized the 1921 massacre to the post-massacre rebound and rebuilding that raised the District to new heights to the mid-twentieth-century decline that proved to be a second near-fatal blow to the current recalibration and rebranding of a resurgent, but differently configured, community.
Tulsa's trajectory may be instructive for other communities similarly seeking to address their own histories of racial trauma. Conversely, Tulsa may benefit from learning more about the paths taken by other communities. Through sharing and synergy, we stand a better chance of doing the work necessary to spur healing and move farther toward the reconciliation of which we so often speak.
In 1962 Mary Carey, newly widowed, drove the Alcan Highway alone from Texas to Alaska, where she would make herself a new life. And her life there - whether she was teaching in an eight-pupil pilot school in Talkeetna, flying Mt. McKinley with bush pilot Don Sheldon, or homesteading in the Alaskan wilderness - was one of continuous pioneering.
A crackerjack photojournalist -- she obtained exclusive eyewitness coverage of the 1964 earthquake in Kodiak, Seward, and Valdez - Ms. Carey won five first prizes in an Alaskan Press Clubs contest in 1963. She did not re-enter the contest until 1974, at which time the lady walked off with three more first prizes. Previously, in 1955, she won the National True Story Award - a $5,000 prize.
Mary Carey was the owner and proprietor of Mary's McKinley View Lodge, which she built on her homestead in 1972. There she baked sixty-four pies each day, welcomed guests, gave lectures to tourists, and somehow found time for rock hunting and writing.
Mary died suddenly at the age of 91, on June 18, 2004, at her beloved Mary's McKinley View Lodge. She left a rich legacy and a loving family from a life well-lived.
The Alamo and its defenders, according to historian Stephen L. Hardin, transcended mere history; both entered the realm of myth. Indeed, the siege and battle of the Alamo serves today as a definition of American character. The date of March 6, 1836, is forever ensconced in the annals of history. But what happened in the twelve days leading up to the final battle of March 6? And did events transpire in the final battle as history has led us to believe? As Hardin stated in the foreword for this book, Myth has so shrouded every aspect of the Alamo story that it becomes hard to separate the factual from the fanciful. Understand and appreciate the myth. Understand and appreciate the historical reality. But, please, graze them in different pastures. Author Alan Huffines has researched both the history and the myth of the Alamo. What he found lacking in Alamo accounts was a perspective unaffected by either history or myth. In this book he portrays the events preliminary to and during the battle from the viewpoint of the participants. In a day-by-day chronology of the thirteen days, he presents original Texian and Mexican perspectives so that the reader may decide which may be accurate and which possibly embellished. His critical analysis of the participants' reports, through extensive annotation, points out inconsistencies and provides considerable food for thought. The renowned military artist Gary S. Zaboly fastidiously researched primary sources for accuracy in clothing, weapons, architecture, geography, and so on, resulting in maps and artwork that offer a new visual perspective of the Alamo and those who were involved with the siege. Through the author's research and the artist's fine illustrations, the thirteen days come into focus, and the people who experienced the sights, smells, sounds, and emotions of that two-week period are allowed to speak finally for themselves.
Once upon a time in the late nineteenth century, there was an outlaw that captured the imagination of the American public like no other. He can be compared to John Dillinger or Pretty Boy Floyd of the 1930s. Like both of these men, he garnered national press for his exploits; the well-known New York Times had a running commentary on his actions and deeds. This outlaw's name was Crawford Goldsby, better known as Cherokee Bill.
Cherokee Bill was every bit as colorful and outrageous as any criminal of the western frontier, perhaps even more so. There were a few things about him that made him truly unique for a famous desperado of the purple sage. First and foremost, he was an African American living in the Indian Territory. He was also Native American, Bill was a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, as a freedman, from his mother's lineage.
Compare Cherokee Bill to Billy the Kid, (Billy Antrim), of New Mexico Territory fame. Although both outlaws received national media attention for their crimes while they were living, Billy the Kid was remembered and immortalized in books and films in the twentieth century; this did not occur for Cherokee Bill. Art Burton's newest book will help change that.