By Alfred L. Brophy

Sparked by David Horowitz’s recent advertisement in college newspapers, reparations for slavery has become a prominent issue. The Hartford Courant, one of the oldest newspapers in America, has apologized for advertising for runaway slaves. That apology was inspired by a story about another great Connecticut institution, Aetna Insurance, which had written policies on slaves’ lives. Now Congress is investigating the role of slave labor in constructing the United States Capitol.

In Oklahoma, the discussion about apologies and reparations relates to a more recent tragedy: the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921. Oklahomans are asking how their riot happened and what they should do now. Debate over reparations for the Tulsa riot centers around the city government’s culpability in fueling the destruction.

On the evening of May 31, 1921, a mob gathered at the Tulsa, Oklahoma Courthouse, threatening to lynch a young black man who worked shining shoes. He was accused of attacking a white woman who worked as an elevator operator. Rumors began to circulate in the city that a lynching was imminent. The proud black community, which was reading “radical” literature like The Crisis and talking about upholding the law against lynchers, decided to take a stand.

When black World War I veterans appeared that night to stop the lynching, all hell broke lose. The Tulsa police department commissioned several hundred white men as deputies to help put down what they thought was a “negro uprising.” According to widely circulated reports, the new deputies were told to “Go out and kill you a damn nigger.” Throughout the night groups of armed men went into the police station, planning their next moves.

The next morning around 5 a.m., those deputies, along with other white mobs, invaded Greenwood, the black section of Tulsa, and left it in ruins. The authorities arrested every Greenwood resident and took them to detention centers (what the newspapers called “concentration camps”) around the city. After the arrests, the mob, special deputies and uniformed police officers looted and burned the vacant buildings. By noon, more than 1,000 homes had been burned to the ground and thousands were left homeless.

The next day, those who had a white employer vouch for them were issued green tags, which they were required to wear, and released from the concentration camps into the custody of their employer. Black men without employers were required to work cleaning up the burned area for no compensation other than meals and housing.

One photograph of the riot, which shows the black section of the city on fire, was labeled “Running the Negro Out of Tulsa.” After the riot the black population declined by about one-third. Newspapers at the time are filled with reports of blacks walking along the railroad tracks headed out of town, never to return. The most poignant photograph of the riot shows the burned shell of the Dreamland Threatre, its marquee fallen. Such was the trajectory of Tulsa’s black community.