Posted by Carl on December 16, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
Suffice it to say, Tulsa is a town of growth. The thriving arts scene, amazing food, people, and architecture. All roses that bloom through the concrete of past pain and indifference. You see, Tulsa was home to one of the largest race riots in US History. In 1921, the thriving black neighborhood of Greenwood was stormed…
By foot.
By car.
By air.
People lost their lives in attempts to protect some semblance of what both sides considered to be right.
Posted by Carl on December 15, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
It is an ancient question: If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one present to hear it, does it make a sound?
While there isn’t enough space on this blog to indulge in the many theoretical answers to this question, it does play a large part in how StoryCorps is perceived. Since 2003 we have worked diligently collecting oral history and the voices of the common person. But what defines a voice? If the participant cannot or chooses not to speak audibly can we still hear them?
It’s not a trick question. The answer is yes.
Posted by Chaela on November 26, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
Community Partners: Chickasaw Nation
MobileBooth West traveled along Oklahoma highways to record at the Chickasaw Nation in Ada, Oklahoma. Several of the conversations were recorded in Chickasaw, a language that is being revitalized in the community as classes are now offered at schools and community centers. The Chickasaw Nation’s territory includes more than 7,500 square miles of south-central Oklahoma and encompasses part of 13 counties. We made these recordings in a little whisper room at the Chickasaw multimedia center, where films and recordings are made about Chickasaw history and culture. The Chickasaw Nation is one of the largest employers in the region and through its business ventures has invested in building a successful social infrastructure for its people. The Nation provides health care, education, and means of promoting its cultural identity.
Posted by Carl on November 23, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
Community Partners: National Museum of African American History and Culture
“When I was 4 years-old, my mother told me that I could be the first Black President of the United States. I should have told Barack that.”
Both of his parents were college graduates. A teacher by profession, his mother brought a then two-year-old John Hope Franklin to the one-room school where she taught in Rentiesville, Oklahoma. She sat him in the back of the room with only a pencil and paper as his babysitters. Day after day, his mother would educate the many grade students left in her care while John occupied himself with the utensils left responsible for his own care taking. One day his mother decided to take a look at John’s paper. Not only had that pencil and paper kept John quiet, it had served as a depository for what he was learning. At two, he was able to read write and do the homework his mother had been administering to the other children.
Posted by Alex on November 6, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
Larry Kilgore has two passions: Horses and Dick Bardon Pawn Shop. The pawn shop was in Larry’s family since 1906. He closed its doors in 1986, 80 years later.
Larry’s uncle, Dick Bardon, came from St. Louis to Tulsa in 1904 driving a covered wagon that he won with gambling money. When gambling became illegal, he opened the doors to a pawn shop. Bardon was well known for his philanthropy, handing an $80,000 check to the struggling Board of Education and saying, “I have no intention of living in a town that can’t pay its teachers.”
Larry took over the pawn shop in 1967, leaving the cash registers from his Uncle Dick’s ownership on display. Read the rest of this entry »
Posted by Carl on November 5, 2008, from Tulsa, Oklahoma
Sara and I just missed the off-ramp. As we discuss how that could have happened and take an unexpected detour, I feel the excitement welling up inside. We start heading up an inclined expressway. At its precipice, we are greeted by the bright lights of our new destination. My cell phone rings. It’s Alex.
