Summary
John Hope Franklin’s Legacy
In Tulsa, we take pride in an exceptional Black man, John Hope Franklin. Although he wasn’t born here and spent only six formative years in this city, he remains one of its most notable figures. Franklin graduated valedictorian from the segregated Booker T. Washington High School at age 16 in 1931 and became the first Black individual to earn a full professorship at a predominantly white university, Brooklyn College, where he led the history department.
With the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre in June, I contemplated Franklin’s legacy and the significance of remembering historical tragedies. Over several months, I explored monuments, exhibits, and galleries—many utilizing Franklin’s name—that were organized by the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Commission, revealing a city grappling with the need to remember and the challenge of true reconciliation.
The Greenwood District and the Tulsa Race Massacre
In the early 20th century, Greenwood district, known as “Black Wall Street,” thrived as a self-sufficient Black society with shops, schools, and entertainment venues like the Williams Dreamland Theatre. It was even home to its own newspaper, Tulsa Star, edited by Black journalist A. J. Smitherman.
However, on May 30, 1921, tragedy struck when Dick Rowland, a Black shoeshiner, was accused of assaulting a white elevator operator, leading to a white mob burning down Greenwood. By the time the flames extinguished on June 2, over 600 Black-owned businesses were lost, leaving nearly 10,000 people homeless and resulting in an estimated 300 deaths.
All that remains of those lost businesses are plaques embedded in the sidewalks along Greenwood Avenue, commemorating their existence. Visitors can explore these memorials by following the newly constructed Pathway to Hope, which connects to John Hope Franklin Reconciliation Park and runs parallel to Interstate 244, slicing through the historical Greenwood district.
While visiting Greenwood Rising, the memorial center dedicated to preserving its history, I observed that the exhibits framed the massacre as a tragic event of the past, promoting a model of reconciliation that seems unachieved within the city. This left me with lingering thoughts on the complexities of such narratives.
Reflections on Reconciliation and Cultural Heritage
A few days post the centennial event, I attended Wynton Marsalis’s All Rise: Symphony No. 1, performed by the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. It was a moving performance, yet I questioned why the commemoration did not commission a piece specifically reflecting Tulsa’s unique history, a missed opportunity for profound engagement with our community’s past.
Reflecting on both music and history, I found parallels between the past and present. The Stradford Hotel once stood as a symbol of Black success, eventually destroyed during the massacre. A contemporary Black-led initiative aims to restore that heritage through the planned opening of the Stradford21 hotel.
As I checked into the Tulsa Club Hotel, a historic site resurrected from disrepair, I experienced a blend of nostalgia and hope. This hotel, which stands just a mile from the former site of the Stradford, represents a new chapter in Tulsa’s story, marking a step towards healing and remembrance.
My visit underscored the importance of learning from history. It is paramount that we cherish and protect the stories of resilience among Tulsa’s Black survivors and ensure future generations never forget the painful legacy of the past.
Ultimately, my journey through Tulsa was an exploration of both personal and collective narratives. I strive for a better understanding of our history, honoring those who came before, and actively preserving the lessons of the past.
