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“Russell Cobb has done for his hometown of Tulsa and state of Oklahoma what James Joyce
did for his Dublin and Ireland in Ulysses, populated with unforgettable characters. Cobb
accomplishes this through storytelling, every page glowing with truth and compassion.”
—Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, author of Red Dirt: Growing Up Okie

“The Great Oklahoma Swindle is that rarest thing: a treasure well gotten. Cobb has all the
gifts of a storyteller, a journalist, an ethicist, and an anthropologist. The substance of the
book is modern tragedy, but the sense of the book is the joy of heartfelt inquiry and
analysis.”
—Rivka Galchen, author of Little Labors

“The Great Oklahoma Swindle should be required reading for every citizen of the state,
especially schoolchildren. As a human geographer and writer of history, I am truly impressed
by how Cobb has unwrapped the exaggerations, stereotypes, and hidden history of
Oklahoma to present a refreshingly accurate account of this puzzling place that I love, warts
and all.”
—Michael Wallis, best-selling author of The Best Land under Heaven: The Donner
Party in the Age of Manifest Destiny

“A swindle is a fraudulent scheme or action taken by those with the intention of using
deception to deprive someone of money or possessions, sometimes just dignity. Russell
Cobb has penned one of the most direct, frank, rough, rustic, reasoned, and realistic
approaches to a deep dark side of what was intended to be deep dark secrets at the core of
Oklahoma’s red soil, red soul, and redneck essence with regard to its grit, greed, grandeur,
and contrived gravitas, based in faith, farce, and fraud. I found it profoundly and profanely
revealing and educational. It should be required reading for every serious student of history
or those who love the truth regardless of how painful or pitiful the honest truth can be.”
—Rev. Carlton Pearson, progressive spiritual teacher and author of The Gospel of
Inclusion, the subject of the Netflix film Come Sunday
The Great Oklahoma Swindle
Race, Religion, and Lies in America’s
Weirdest State

Russell Cobb
University of Nebraska Press | Lincoln
© 2020 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska

Cover designed by University of Nebraska Press.

Acknowledgments for previously published material appear in Acknowledgments, which

constitutes an extension of the copyright page.

All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Cobb, Russell, 1974– author.
Title: The great Oklahoma swindle: race, religion, and lies in America’s weirdest state /
Russell Cobb.
Description: Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, [2020] | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019020725
ISBN 9781496209986 (cloth)
ISBN 9781496220035 (epub)
ISBN 9781496220059 (pdf)
ISBN 9781496220042 (mobi)
Subjects: LCSH: Cobb, Russell, 1974– | Collective memory—Oklahoma. | Oklahoma—History.
| Oklahoma—Social conditions. | Oklahoma—Religious life and customs.
Classification: LCC F694 .C63 2020 | DDC 976.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019020725.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for
author or third-party websites or their content.
To all y’all Okies, with love.
oklahoma will be the last song
i’ll ever sing
—Joy Harjo

I grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, like an idiot in some book.

—Bill Hader
Contents

List of Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Prologue
1. Voyage to Dementiatown
2. You’re Not Doing Fine, Oklahoma
3. The Road to Hell in Indian Territory
4. Where the Hell Is Oklahoma Anyway?
5. The Long Goodbye to Oklahoma’s Small-Town Jews
6. Okies in the Promised Land
7. Among the Tribe of the Wannabes
8. Backward, Christian Soldier
9. Keeping Oklahoma Weird
10. Cursed?
11. The Fire That Time
12. Uncommon Commons
Epilogue
Notes
Index
Illustrations

1. The Golden Driller

2. Darla Ashton examines the Tullahassee Indian Cemetery
3. Map of American regions
4. The doors of Temple Emeth
5. Choctaw artist St. Clair Homer
6. and 7. St. Clair Homer parodied white colonialism
8. Giant bronze statue of hands in prayer
9. Bruce Goff’s Boston Avenue United Methodist Church in Tulsa
10. Bruce Goff’s Bavinger House
11. Pat, Russell, and Candler Cobb, 1977
12. Nehemiah Frank
Acknowledgments

Before the seedling of this book broke through the Oklahoma red
dirt, I had a chance encounter with a history professor at the
University of Iowa as an undergraduate. He expressed interest in my
Oklahoma upbringing and told me stories about the Green Corn
Rebellion, the leftist politics of Woody Guthrie, and the influence of
the Socialist Party in Oklahoma. I could not believe that Oklahoma
had brought forth such radicalism, and I feverishly related all I
learned to Alex Wayne, who has remained a friend all these years
later. Friends in graduate school at the University of Texas at Austin
and later at The Nation internship program in New York also helped
urge me along my path toward a total reassessment of Oklahoma
history. Late-night discussions with William Lin, Kabir Dandona,
Matthew Maddy, and Justin Vogt put Oklahoma’s contradictions in
context. Jonathan Shainin provided some early editorial guidance in
various publications.
The staff at This American Life, especially Julie Snyder, Alex
Blumberg, and Ira Glass, had faith that the story of a figure
practically unknown in the secular world from the backwater of
Oklahoma would resonate with a national audience. I am still
amazed and honored that I was able to have a hand in writing and
framing Carlton Pearson’s story for the This American Life segment
on “Heretics.” Carlton remains a friend and a mentor. He helped me
see another layer of complexity in the culture of evangelicalism.
This book started to take its current shape with the creation of
This Land Press, a little magazine once labeled “the New Yorker with
balls” by Columbia Journalism Review. From 2010 to 2015, Michael
Mason provided a window into Oklahoma’s weird reality that bucked
all conventions. This Land was fearless, odd, unpredictable. I am
very proud of my contributions to the magazine and indebted to
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Michael’s support in getting an early version of many of the stories
related here out into the world. Although the magazine has ceased
publication, its free-spirited and contrarian nature lives on in the
Tulsa Voice through the editorship of Jezy Gray, who has been
particularly supportive of my research around Muscogee (Creek)
Tulsa.
The Oklahoma Policy Institute is a state treasure that provides a
reality-based check to some of the more ridiculous initiatives that
come from the state’s political class. The institute’s director, David
Blatt, not only helped me understand why, for all the depressing
statistics, things could also be worse, but he also drew out
interesting comparisons with my adopted homeland in Alberta,
Canada. Chapter 2 was supported by the journalism nonprofit the
Economic Hardship Reporting Project. The rage that fueled my article
for the Guardian on Oklahoma as America’s failed state was
harnessed into a large-scale research project by Matthew Bokovoy,
who has ably shepherded this project from its beginnings into a—
hopefully—coherent story about how messed up Oklahoma is and
how it got that way. Matt, and everyone at University of Nebraska
Press, believed that there was an important story to be told and
helped fill in my woeful gaps of knowledge about Five Tribes
scholarship. Brian Hosmer at the University of Tulsa also provided
crucial feedback along with the way.
A special shout-out to my Okie contrarian brethren who have
provided inspiration and friendship over the years, especially Chris
Hastings, Chris Sachse, Jeff Weigant, and Bob Blakemore. Music
fueled our first rebellions, and our raucous, disjointed experiments in
punk, hip-hop, and God knows what else helped us forge community
and create survival strategies for growing up as black sheep in a
conformist town on the Bible Belt.
Before the idea of this book came to fruition, I worked on a family
memoir at the writers’ utopia known as Literary Journalism at the
Banff Centre. The mentorship and guidance of Ian Brown, Victor
Dwyer, and Charlotte Gill were instrumental in getting the personal
angle to this story down. I am thankful to the Toronto Star and
Patricia Hluchy for believing in the Cobb story enough to publish it as
a Star Dispatch known as “Heart in Darkness: The Genetic Defect
That Could Kill Me.” Céline Gareau-Brennan at the University of
Alberta Library and the staff at the National Archives in Fort Worth,
Texas, provided research assistance, as did Sheri Perkins at Tulsa
City County Library, Marc Carlson at the University of Tulsa library,
the staff of the Sand Springs Cultural and Historical Museum.
Some longtime friends who listened to my rants, provided tips, and
helped me discover unseen connections include Michael Erard, Sunny
Mills, Omar Mouallem, Marcello Di Cintio, Ted Bishop, and Curtis
Gillespie. J. D. Colbert’s research on Creek history was an inspiration
and kick-start to chapter 3, “The Road to Hell in Indian Territory.”
Along with Gina Covington and Eli Grayson, Colbert helped me
understand that Tulsa’s Creek past is not dead; it is not even past.
Allison Herrera’s effort to tell Tulsa’s Creek story provided a push to
learn more on my part. Her audio-producing skills helped me hone
my own interviewing techniques. Similarly, this book’s coverage of
indigenous history is indebted to many people working at the
Muscogee (Creek) Nation, especially RaeLynn Butler and Veronica
Pipestem. Even though they had a quieter background presence,
Melissa Harjo-Moffer and Odette Freeman helped out a lot in the way
of looking up info, printing it out, and talking about how a Creek
woman like Millie Naharkey or Minnie Atkins might have thought and
acted based on the era they lived in. Mvto (thanks) to the elders.
Gano Perez put together those GIS maps of Tuckabache’s land. Darla
Ashton, the granddaughter of one the most tragic victims of the
swindle of land allotments, guided me around northeastern
Oklahoma, visiting important sites. Tallulah Eve Smith brought an
eloquent voice to contemporary Creek perspective. Nehemiah Frank
is an inspiring young black voice embodying the resurgence of North
Tulsa. His input on the Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921 was invaluable.
Apollonia Piña added a breath of fresh air and an indigenous
female voice toward the end of the journey. Every page of this book
has been subjected to Apollonia’s bullshit detector, as well as her
knowledge and passion for all things Mvskoke. We share a mutual
curiosity about how us Okies got so damn weird. Apollonia was my
“research assistant,” but I consider her a creative and intellectual
partner in this endeavor. She bailed me out more than once when I
could have echoed some outdated assumption about indigenous
traditions (she convinced me to cut the “Civilized” part out of the
“Five Tribes”). I would not have been able to bring Apollonia’s
perspective to the project without the support of the Faculty of Arts
and the vice president of research at the University of Alberta,
facilitated by Steve Patten. Kerry Sluchinski assisted me getting all
the details in order, fact-checking, double-checking citations, and
finishing other important tasks. An invaluable last round of edits was
provided by Sarah C. Smith of Arbuckle Editorial.
A special word of gratitude and fraternité to my Quebecois homie
and colleague, Daniel Laforest, who once drove the length of
Oklahoma on I-40 and maybe stopped for a Slurpee. For Daniel,
Oklahoma blended seamlessly into Arkansas and Texas. But now he
knows how truly unique we Okies are. Over beers, he was my
sounding board for all sorts of ideas throughout this project. Daniel
and other friends colleagues in Spanish and Latin American studies—
too many to mention here—tolerated my detour into the American
Heartland and gave me support as my research and publishing
profile picked up steam. Chairs of my home department, Laura Beard
and Carrie Smith, urged me on, even when this project seemed like a
total break from the traditional profile of a Spanish professor.
My mother, Pat Cobb, was my biggest cheerleader when I started
publishing. Dementia took hold of her ability to read, think, and
function. But I know that some part of her would be proud of this
book, even if it presents a damning portrait of her homeland and its
people. My uncle Tim Cobb has always been a source of family lore,
black humor, and support. I do not know if many people within the
extended network of Cobbs will approve of the work in this book, but
Tim has always been an inspiration for me as a Cobb black sheep. He
is what family should be: tolerant, loving, supportive,
nonjudgmental. Same goes for my cousins Carey Calvert and Kay
Kittleman and their children.
Rachel Hertz Cobb has been my constant and patient companion
on voyages to the darker side of the Heartland, to Dementiatown,
and back to our adopted home of Canada. Rachel has been my wise
counsel, my editor, and best friend. I do not think I would have had
the fortitude to make it here without her. Along the way, we ate, we
drank, we danced, we argued, and made two wonderful children,
August and Henry, who mainly know Tulsa for its signature mini hot
dog, the chili cheese Coney Islander. I have thought about my sons
throughout this project, hoping that they inherit a more just,
inclusive, and honest world than the one I was raised in. Finally, to
the people of Oklahoma, a place that will always be my sort-of
home, I extend a huge embrace to y’all in all your contradictions,
foibles, brilliance, and madness. Mvto, gracias, thanks.
Take it easy, but take it, Okies.

An earlier version of chapter 2 appeared as “Oklahoma Isn’t

Working: Can Anyone Fix This Failing American State?” in the
Guardian, August 29, 2017.
An earlier version of chapter 4 appeared as “South by Midwest: Or,
Where Is Oklahoma?” in This Land Press, November 14, 2012.
An earlier version of chapter 5 appeared as “Shalom, Ardmore” in
This Land Press, August 19, 2015.
An earlier version of chapter 7 appeared as “Among the Tribe of
the Wannabes” in This Land Press, August 26, 2014.
An earlier version of chapter 8 appeared as “Backwards Christian
Soldier” in This Land Press, November 30, 2012.
An earlier version of chapter 9 appeared as “Continuous Present”
in This Land Press, November 21, 2011.
An earlier version of chapter 10 appeared as “Heart in Darkness”
in the Toronto Star, February 22, 2014.
An earlier version of chapter 12 appeared as “Brave New Park” in
This Land Magazine, Winter 2016.
Prologue

Fake news. Alternative facts. The cultural landscape of the early

twenty-first century is littered with deformations of the truth and
outright lies. The culprits are legion: internet culture, Donald Trump,
big tech companies, Russian trolls, white nationalism, postmodern
relativism. Collins Dictionary selected fake news as the word of the
year for 2017. Long think-pieces have proliferated about “America’s
misinformation problem.” Economists have been marshaled to
quantify the impact of fake news on elections and the biases of the
American public. Facebook, from which much of the fake news
originates, has undertaken an ad campaign to warn users about how
to spot false information. Universities are gearing up for more media
literacy courses, alarmed by the supposed rise in unverifiable
information. And yet we lack awareness of the history of fakery,
swindles, and legally executed frauds that make up the U.S.
colonization of its own territories.
This book is about how one state in the union—Oklahoma—was
founded and maintained on false information and broken promises
from its very beginning. Rather than seeing fake news as a
contemporary media problem, in other words, I see it as the
touchstone for our political culture. A swindle was at the heart of
Oklahoma’s state-building project. From the massive legalized theft
of Native land in the early twentieth century, to a decades-long
conspiracy of silence about one of the country’s worst acts of racial
violence, to a former governor who believes a statewide day of
Christian prayer is a solution for social problems and a former
attorney general who continues to deny the reality of climate
change, the state of Oklahoma was built and is still maintained on a
bedrock of lies.
 The dean of Oklahoma history, Angie Debo, wrote that the story of
her native state could be seen as a compressed history of the United
States: “The one who can interpret Oklahoma can grasp the meaning
of America in the modern world.”1 Native American assimilation and
treaty-making, slavery, large-scale white settlement, and a massive
economic boom followed by industrialization all took place over the
course of half a century, making Oklahoma an American story run at
4× speed. The fact that Oklahoma is a deep red state, a reactionary
state, leads some people to conclude that there is something un-
American about it. I am not sure about that. Whether the state is an
American exception or a microcosm—or a little bit of both—is a
question I revisit throughout this book.
What I am sure of, however, is that the story the political class and
economic elite of Oklahoma has told about itself has laid the
groundwork for the continued exploitation and misery of not only its
minority populations but its poor and working-class white population
as well. Fake history is so baked into the state’s religiosity, its political
structures, and its education system that we do not even recognize it
as such. This is just the way things are.
Take the most popular sports team in the state, the University of
Oklahoma football team, whose mascot is the Sooner. The Sooner
Schooner is pulled by horses around the Owen Field after every
touchdown, a symbol of that pioneer pluck that embodies the state’s
spirit. Sooner imagery is ubiquitous: even the state’s frayed Medicaid
system is known as SoonerCare. I learned to scream “Boomer
Sooner!” at the television during football games around the time I
could toddle, ignorant until recently about who the actual Boomers
and Sooners were. These nicknames were given to white settlers
who claimed to have titles to “surplus lands,” the term given to land
that was not taken up by Native American allotments in Oklahoma
and Indian Territories. The Boomers and Sooners literally jumped the
gun on the land rush, camping out on the edges of townsites with
fake certificates for 160-acre plots of land. They often shot and killed
each other, as well as the Native Americans who legally owned the
land. As the early cities of Oklahoma took shape, the Boomers
became the focus of the ire of city leaders. They disregarded local
laws and handed out rough justice—including lynchings—to anyone
who questioned their legal right to the land. They were, in the words
of Danney Goble, little more than squatters.2 Boomers appropriated
Native American tribal names (one such group of white men called
itself the Seminoles) and then proceeded to issue themselves fake
land deeds.
That such figures could be transformed from their origins in land-
based piracy to wholesome all-Americanness says a lot about the
swindle at the heart of the Oklahoma project. For that is what the
historical lies amount to: a broad-based movement to defraud
disenfranchised people (Native Americans, African Americans,
sharecropping Okies, migrant workers) of their land and, indeed,
their very identities. These are not simple misstatements about the
nature of empirically verifiable facts. Would that it were so. If simply
correcting the historical record led to social justice, my task would be
simple; however, it is much more profound than that.

When I was about nine years old, my mom took me on a drive

through Tulsa’s predominately black North Side. Even though the
North Side was only two miles from our home in tony Maple Ridge,
we almost never went north of the train tracks downtown. But I
wanted a puppy, and the animal shelter was on the North Side. As
we drove across the tracks, my mom clicked down the door locks on
our ’83 Cutlass Ciera. Along streets near North Main, I saw sidewalks
and driveways leading to nothing. The area around the crosstown
expressway was particularly derelict. Husks of red brick buildings and
boarded-up houses predominated the scenery. I asked about why so
much of the North Side looked like a wasteland. My mom said that
some people were too poor to take care of their property. This was
the conventional wisdom: the poor lacked the basic personal
responsibility to take care of their own property. Decades later, when
I was well into my twenties, I chanced upon Scott Ellsworth’s Death
in a Promised Land at a library in Austin, Texas. The destitution of
North Tulsa had nothing to do with black neglect, as white Tulsa
would have it, and everything to do with the Tulsa Race Massacre of
1921, perhaps the deadliest incident of racial violence in American
history since the Civil War.3
Fully grown-up me was angry at my mom for never mentioning
the massacre. Around this time—the turn of the millennium—she
worked on the North Side and had hired an African American woman
as an assistant manager at the bookstore she managed. By the
standards of white Tulsa, she had become a progressive. But her
attitudes about the massacre were a product of white Tulsa’s silence.
My high school history teacher did not mention the event in my
Oklahoma history class, nor did it appear in our textbooks. White
Tulsa wanted nothing to do with an event that flew in the face of its
“Magic City” image, the supposed Oil Capital of the World with its
world-class museums and small-town vibe.
Later in life, I learned more startling facts not taught or celebrated
in Oklahoma’s official narrative. The neighborhood I grew up in—the
Sunset Terrace addition of Maple Ridge, in Tulsa—had been a
Muscogee (Creek) allotment owned by a warrior named Tuckabache
in the early twentieth century. When Tuckabache died in 1910,
prominent Tulsans stepped in to make sure the land did not pass
down to his grandchildren but was instead deeded over to land
speculators. Tuckabache’s family cemetery, where at least seventeen
of his kin were buried, was a football toss from my backyard. No one
in the neighborhood had even heard of Tuckabache. Our history is
not so much forgotten as it is suppressed.
When I bring my wife, from a secular Jewish liberal family, to
Tulsa, we know there are certain things you just do not talk about.
Religion is supposed to be taboo, except that a common
conversation starter is “What church y’all go to?” Politics are also
supposed to be avoided, except that snide comments about Barack
Obama being an African-born socialist go uncontested. The truth is
that some views about politics and religion are not to be discussed,
namely those that challenge the prevailing orthodoxy. We need to
have deep conversations about the foundations of Oklahoma to
understand the mess the state finds itself in. The massive margin of
victory for Donald Trump—the second-widest in the nation—seems to
confirm the view that Okies have completely fallen for the swindle.
To many liberals in academia and the media, Oklahoma is the heart
of Flyover Country, a place that deserves its own misery. But while
the state may be based on a swindle, not everyone has bought in to
the lie. Oklahoma has a venerable tradition of radicalism and social
experimentation that we do not teach in our state-mandated
curriculum. Debunking the notion of Oklahoma (and, by extension,
large parts of the Midwest and South) as nothing more than a
redneck wasteland occupies a large portion of this book. Just
because its contemporary political and economic structure is based
on a historical swindle does not mean that the state has not
produced an incredible array of dreamers, radicals, visionaries, and
weirdos. From the otherworldly architecture of Bruce Goff, to the
prose of Ralph Ellison, to the socialist protest songs of Woody
Guthrie, and to the jazz-blues-country fusion of Bob Wills, JJ Cale,
and Leon Russell, the richness of the state’s culture is both
underappreciated and unparalleled. The local culture is characterized
by a slow burn, like the state’s barbecue, of racial mixture and
genre-bending. I tell those stories too. The stories of the brave souls,
like Carlton Pearson, who have met the charge of heresy squarely on
and refused to back down or leave. Those stories deserve to be told
and remembered.
There is a plaque at the John Hope Franklin Reconciliation
Memorial that commemorates not only the death and destruction of
the Massacre of 1921 but the spirit that rebuilt Greenwood after the
violence despite threats from the KKK and Jim Crow laws. One part of
the memorial reads:

For this land, this Oklahoma, is our land, too. We have built its
cities and worked its farms, raised its children and fought in its
wars. On its altars of freedom you will find our blood as well. For
hundreds of years, beneath its endless skies, we have lived and
worked, laughed and wept, loved and died. And as we have
climbed, so have you.
Now, we must all climb together.
 “We must all climb together.” It is a phrase that our folk poet
Woody Guthrie could have sung. Words that the Socialist Party of
Oklahoma—once the nation’s largest socialist party—would have
endorsed. It is the spirit of solidarity that united the thousands of
public school teachers who decided in the spring of 2018 that they
had finally had enough of tax cuts and days of prayer for the oil
patch; they walked off the job. Later in the year, some ran for the
state legislature, defeating incumbents in the primary. Many teachers
won their elections during the primaries of 2018, prompting national
media to take notice of a “revolution” in America’s Heartland. I never
held my breath. A spirit of fatalism hangs heavy over the land. When
you grow up believing the Boomers were the heroes, rather than the
land pirates they were, it is hard not to be cynical about social
progress. But it is not for nothing that Oklahomans adopted the state
motto Labor omnia vincit. Labor conquers all. Oklahoma has
witnessed periods of insurgency and solidarity, from the Crazy Snake
to the Green Corn Rebellions of early statehood to the teacher
walkout of 2018 and the unexpected victories of progressive women
in the midterm elections post-Trump.
At its core, this book is about how one place in the heart of
America got very, very messed up. But it is not only about that. This
book is also about the beauty and genius of the place, a testament
to the hybrid culture of a place of visionaries and dreamers. A
complicated story, in other words. I sometimes find myself lost in the
paradoxes of place, race, and religion. Oklahoma seems to embody
Walt Whitman’s famous lines: “Do I contradict myself? Very well
then, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes.”
Consider, for example:

In 1914, 175 candidates from the Socialist Party of Oklahoma

won elections.
Oklahoma has led the nation in per-capita executions since
1980.
Some of the most prosperous all-black townships in the nation
were located in Oklahoma, prompting leaders like Booker T.
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 Washington and Ida B. Wells to tout Oklahoma as “the black
promised land.”
In 2016 the starting wage at QuikTrip, an Oklahoma-owned
convenience store, was higher than the starting salary for a
teacher in the state’s schools.
The Native American preacher Oral Roberts grew up in poverty
to eventually build a futuristic hub for evangelical Christianity
in the Tulsa suburbs, where he once saw a nine-hundred-foot
Jesus.
America’s greatest folk singer, Woody Guthrie, was once a
persona non grata in his hometown of Okemah because of his
leftist politics.
Guthrie’s father, Charley Guthrie, may have participated in one of
the most horrific lynchings in American history, when a
mother and son were hung from a bridge in Okemah.
In 2018 Oklahoma became the first state in the Bible Belt to
legalize medical marijuana.
The nation’s largest noodling tournament (catfishing by hand) is
held in Oklahoma.
Cherokee is the fourth-most-spoken language in Oklahoma,
though it is on the endangered languages list.
In 2015 there were more earthquakes in Oklahoma than in
California.
At least thirty-nine Native American nations call Oklahoma
home.
Tulsa and Oklahoma City are consistently ranked among the
most affordable places to live among U.S. metro areas.
Franz Kafka wrote a story called “The Nature Theater of
Oklahoma.” He never visited the place.
The second deadliest terrorist attack and the worst episode of
racial violence in the United States both took place in
Oklahoma.
 The largest gift to a public park in American history happened in
Tulsa in 2014, when billionaire George Kaiser gave $350
million to create Gathering Place for Tulsa.
The Strawberry Capital of the World (at least as named by the
state legislature in the 1940s), Stilwell, Oklahoma, also has
the lowest life expectancy of any town in the nation (56.3
years).
Klansman David Duke and black radical intellectual Cornel West
were both born in Tulsa in the 1950s.

Very well then. We contain multitudes.

1

Voyage to Dementiatown

Witnessing the unmaking of a human being is a hell of a thing.

Western ideology stresses the continuous improvement of the self.
We progress from a blank slate at infancy to a repository of wisdom
by the time we enter our golden years. Supposedly. When my mom
reached retirement age, she started to come undone the way
Hemingway described rich people going broke: gradually at first, and
then all of a sudden. After a few years of slow decline, she could not
distinguish her hairbrush from her iPhone.
At the same time I was teaching my son to tie his shoes, I had to
buy my mom slip-ons. She had unlearned how to tie a bow. Every
couple of months or so, I suspended all disbelief and visited my mom
in a place I called Dementiatown, Oklahoma. My mom’s window out
of Dementiatown to the place we call Reality was still there for a long
time, but it was frosted over. You had to scratch your fingernail
through the ice if you wanted to see anything clearly.
“You came all the way from Kansas,” my mom said.
“Canada, Mom. Canada. I have been there for almost ten years.”
My mom is literally an Okie from Muskogee, a small city in eastern
Oklahoma where her dad ran a barbecue joint and drove a beer
truck. I know little about the man, but I do know his barbecue never
measured up to the legendary Slick’s BBQ across town. Shortly before
my grandfather’s restaurant went out of business in the 1950s, my
grandmother took my mom and split Muskogee for Tulsa. My
grandfather’s ill-fated turn as a barbecue pitmaster ended, and he
somehow joined up touring the nation with a variety show as a
figure skater. It occurs to me now that my mom’s life was like a
country song. But she hated country music. Unlike the narrator of
the Merle Haggard song, my mom would never be caught dead
pitchin’ wool, drinkin’ white lightning, or wavin’ Old Glory down at
the courthouse. “That’s country” was her all-encompassing takedown
of everything associated with her rural, working-class white
upbringing.
No matter how steep the declines in her cognition, her judgment
of social class stayed sharp. Your mom is a lady, people at the
assisted living facility said. She preferred pinot grigio and Caesar
salad to beer and smoked brisket. Even in Dementiatown, Oklahoma,
there was such a thing as good taste. It took her half a lifetime to
achieve her social status, and she was not going to give it up quietly.
Invitations to bingo, lunch at Cracker Barrel, or services at the
Southern Baptist church were rebuffed. “Too country,” she said.
We wandered around a newly expanded Whole Foods and
marveled at all the fancy cheeses and prepackaged sushi. “This place
used to be a Bud’s Supermarket,” she reminded me. “You bagged
groceries for Garth Brooks’s parents here.”
Sometimes I would put a bunch of high-end food in a shopping
cart and push it around for a while. Then I would leave the cart in
the pet food aisle. “How much am I paying to stay at that place?”
she would ask on the way back to the assisted living facility.
“We’ve got it covered” was all I could say.
I did not have it covered at all.

My mom spent her teenage years trying to escape her poor

upbringing. She seemed to have found the ticket when she met my
dad, who came from one of the wealthiest families in Tulsa. His
grandfather—Russell Cobb—had been a champion boxer at Harvard,
the son of the architect Henry Ives Cobb, a builder of massive civic
institutions like the University of Chicago and the state capitol of
Pennsylvania. Russell Cobb I counted himself among a handful of
men who ruled over Tulsa’s ascension to Oil Capital of the World. The
title is self-bestowed and since the 1950s, no one has taken it
seriously. Russell Cobb was everywhere during Tulsa’s golden age.
He founded the Tennis Club. He was campaign manager for the
Republican candidate for governor. He was police commissioner for
Tulsa. But most importantly, he was an oil man, acquiring mineral
rights from Oklahoma to Wyoming to California.
Russell Cobb’s grandson, Candy Cobb, had swagger: solid gold
cufflinks, a black Benz, and an uncanny resemblance to Elvis. He was
a tennis champion and a Vegas gambler. He was my mom’s ticket out
of her poor, rural Okie upbringing. It would be just my mom’s luck
that my dad fell ill with a rare heart disease shortly after they
married. The oil money dried up. They spent the next five years
trying out every new treatment in cardiology, only to have my dad
end up with a rejected heart transplant and a quack Pentecostal
doctor praying over him on his deathbed. By the time my dad died,
my mom’s main inheritance was $200,000 in unpaid medical bills.
She also had a restless five-year-old boy to contend with: me. I
recently asked her why she never went on welfare or food stamps
during that time.
“Welfare is for poor people,” she said. “We weren’t them.”
Outside Dementiatown, it does not take much symbolic effort to
read the code of welfare; it signifies not only poverty but
nonwhiteness. The very word welfare connotes an Otherness that
remained vivid in her mind. With reason: as the writers Thomas
Byrne Edsall and Mary D. Edsall discovered decades ago, race “is no
longer a straightforward, morally unambiguous force in American
politics” but rather a series of codes.1 My mom’s family came from a
small town in the middle of the old Muscogee (Creek) Nation, settled
by her grandparents, who had been sharecroppers in Tennessee. We
are both dark-complexioned and frequently mistaken for Latino or
even Native American. One of her ancestors had Native blood, a
dangerous proposition in a state that adopted all the racist laws of
the Old South. Many of her aunts and uncles lit out for California in
the 1930s and 1940s, only to be labeled “Okie scum,” a subset of
white trash. A few of them came back, bitter over the California
experiment. In the company of her in-laws, she has often been
treated as an extension of “the help.”
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illustration above shows a two-panelled screen which may be easily
made in the home, or it furnishes good material for a woodwork
problem to be used in the school. It is made of oak and covered with
burlap. By adding to the number of pieces the third panel may be
made with ease.

Materials:

3 feet of oak.
¼ lb. 8-penny nails to be used in making frame.
3 1” (butt) hinges, with screws, to join panels together.
1 box of brass-headed tacks to fasten burlap to frame.
Sandpaper and stain.
3½ yds. burlap to cover panels.

Dimensions:

Frame: 4 pieces 1” thick × 1” wide × 5’ long, to be used for upright pieces.

6 pieces 1” thick × 1” wide × 2’ long, to be used for crosspieces.

Directions:
Measure and saw the pieces according to required dimensions. Cut the joints
and nail the three crosspieces to the two upright pieces. Make the other panel
in the same way and join the two together with the three hinges. Sandpaper,
stain, and polish the frame. After it has dried thoroughly, cover it with the
burlap on the outside, tacking this on with the brass-headed tacks.
 CHAPTER III
PORCH EQUIPMENT

ICELESS REFRIGERATOR NO. 1

Country homes without ice houses and too far from town to have
access to manufactured ice may have an iceless refrigerator as a
good substitute. This convenience comprises a simple wooden frame
with a covering of canton flannel, burlap, Indian-head cloth or linen
crash made to fit so that little air is admitted into it. Wicks made of
the same material as the cover are tacked on top of each side of the
cover and extend over into the pan of water sitting on top of the
frame. This water is taken up by the wicks and carried down on the
sides of the cover by capillary attraction when evaporation takes
place, drawing the heat from the inside and lowering the
temperature. The more rapid the evaporation, the lower the
temperature. Tests have shown that if the refrigerator is kept in a
place where the air circulates around it freely, a temperature of 50
degrees Fahrenheit may be obtained.

Materials:

40’ of white pine.

1 pair of 1½” (butt) hinges to fasten the door.
1 2” gate hook to close screen door.
½ lb. 5-penny nails to build frame.
3½ yds. wire screening to cover frame.
4 sq. ft. sheet zinc to make shelves.
1 pt. white paint.
1 can white enamel.
1 square pan for top of refrigerator.
1 large pan for bottom.
 Sandpaper.
2 cards of snap hooks and eyes to put on cover.
5 yds. white canton flannel.

Dimensions:

Frame: 4 pieces ½” thick × 3” wide × 48” long, for upright pieces.

16 pieces 1” thick × 1” wide × 16” long, to be used as crosspieces for top,
bottom, and shelves.
Door: 2 pieces ½” thick × 3” wide × 39” long, for upright pieces.
2 pieces 1” thick × 1” wide × 16” long, for crosspieces.
Directions:
Make the frame 3½’ high with twelve crosspieces tacked to the four posts,
nailing the first 4 strips 9” from the bottom of the frame, and the remaining 8
strips about 11” apart. An 18½” square frame is made of wood and nailed on
top of the posts. The corners of this square are mitered or lapped over and
tacked together. Use a biscuit pan to fit in top of the square to hold the water.
The whole refrigerator should stand in a larger pan which catches the
drippings from the cover and keeps away the insects. The screen door is
made 39” long × 16” wide, which is joined to the frame with hinges and
fastens with a hook. Three movable shelves with perforations in them are
made of zinc. Cover the whole frame with wire screening to protect it from
the flies. When the frame is finished it should be painted white and enameled.
This will permit of its being washed every day. A covering of white canton
flannel is made to fit the screen, with the smooth side out, care being taken
that the cover comes to the lower edge of the frame. The wicks are made half
the width of the sides and tacked on the top edge of each side. These must
be long enough to extend 3” over into the water. Strips of canton flannel 2”
wide are tacked all around the sides and the top of the frame, and the eyes
are sewed on these. White tape may be used for this purpose if more
convenient. Sew one row of hooks on the edge of the covering near the latch
and the other just opposite the opening, with the hem to extend far enough
over on each side to cover crack at the edge of door. This permits the door to
be opened without unfastening the hooks, keeping out the warm outside air
and at the same time retaining the cool air inside the refrigerator. Hook the
covering around the top also. Place the refrigerator in a shady place where
the air will circulate around it freely. Keep the wicks in a supply of fresh water
in the top pan. The water is taken down the sides by capillary attraction, and
when evaporation takes place the heat is taken from the inside thereby
lowering the temperature.
First View Second View Third View
Iceless refrigerator
 ICELESS REFRIGERATOR NO. 2
Another type of iceless refrigerator which appears more crude can
be made at a cost of $1.80. In this a cotton sack is used for the
covering. This refrigerator has proved more satisfactory than one
would suppose. The butter and milk from several cows has been
kept in a model of this type at ten degrees cooler than the outside
air. It might be well to use cotton flannel for the covering instead of
ducking because when the cloth is wet evaporation takes place more
rapidly.

Materials:

24½’ yellow pine.

5½ yds. canton flannel.
15 10-penny nails.
1 No. 2 galvanized tub.

Dimensions:

Stem: 1 piece 2” thick × 4” wide × 5’ long.

Shelves: 2 pieces 1” thick × 32” wide × 32” long.
1 piece 1” thick × 20” wide × 20” long.
Supports: 2 pieces 2” thick × 4” wide × 18” long to be used as braces for the
foundation.
Cleats: 4 pieces 2” thick × 4” wide × 30” long to support shelves.
Directions:
Nail the piece (2” × 4” × 18”) on the side of the stem making it even with the
bottom piece. Saw a 2” base out on the side of the stem and nail the other
piece measuring 2” × 4” × 18”. Measure 25” from the bottom of the stem and
nail on 2 cleats to support the shelf. Cut space in the center of piece (1” × 32”
× 32”) large enough to fit the stem and nail it to the cleats, thus making the
first shelf. From this point measure 20” and nail 2 cleats on the stem to
support the second shelf (1” × 32” × 32”). Measure 13” from the top of the
stem and nail on shelf (1” × 20” × 20”) after cutting an opening (2” × 4”) in
the center of shelf. The curtain is made of 4 widths of the canton flannel
measuring 66” in length with a draw string put at the top and bottom of the
curtain. This makes the refrigerator dust and fly proof.
 UMBRELLA STAND
A good problem to be used in woodwork classes in the school or
to be made by boys in the home. It will be found appropriate and
useful in the reception hall or on the porch. It is built of dry goods
boxes, with a five-cent pan used in the bottom to catch the drippings
from the umbrellas.

Materials:

1 box 9” deep × 12” wide × 30” high.

¼ lb. eight-penny nails to make the frame.
1 small round tin pan to fit in bottom of the stand.
Sandpaper and stain.
Dimensions:

4 pieces ¼” thick × 2½” wide × 30” long, to be used as upright pieces.

4 pieces ¼” thick × 2¼” wide × 30” long, to be used as upright pieces.
6 pieces ½” thick × 3” wide × 12” long, to be used as crosspieces.
6 pieces ½” thick × 3” wide × 11” long, to be used as crosspieces.
Bottom: 1 piece 12” thick × 12” wide × 12” long.
Directions:
Make three boxes of the six pieces (½” × 3” × 12”) and six pieces (½” × 3”
× 11”), putting the bottom, 12” square, on the bottom box to be used as
foundation of the frame. Make a hole in this bottom large enough to hold a
round tin pan. This hole should be cut before nailing the piece on the bottom
of the box. Nail the four long pieces (measuring ¼” × 2¼” × 30”) on the end
of the three boxes, placing the boxes seven inches apart on the frame. Nail
four pieces (measuring ¼” × 2½” × 30”) on the ends of the boxes to extend
one-fourth inch over the first four strips which were nailed on the boxes.
Sandpaper, stain, and polish.
 BLACKING BOX
A necessary and useful home convenience made of a box, with a
cover made in two sections and joined with hinges. It is a time-saver
to the busy housewife who has to go so often in search for blacking
and polish before she can get the children ready for school. It serves
as a reminder to the busy farmer who is disposed to go to town or
to church before giving his shoes a dressing.

Materials:

1 box.
½ lb. six-penny nails to construct box.
1 pair 1½” (butt) hinges to fasten top.
Sandpaper and stain.

Dimensions:

Body: 5¾” deep × 13¾” wide × 14¼” long (inside measurements).

Top: 2 pieces ½” thick × 8” wide × 6¼” long.
Legs: 4 pieces ⅜” thick × 1⅜” wide × 13¼” long.
4 pieces ⅜” thick × 1¾” wide × 13¼” long.
Directions:
Remove the cover from box (5¾” deep × 13¾” × 14¼”) and nail the legs
on, making them seven inches longer than the outside depth of the box. Nail
one half of the cover on top of box, allowing it to project evenly all round the
edge of the box. Fasten the other half of the cover to this half with hinges.
Sandpaper, stain, and polish.
 TOWEL ROLLER
A towel roller built so simply that any boy on the farm would take
pleasure in working out the problem. It is much easier to keep a
clean towel in the right place when the proper place is provided for
the towel to be kept. This convenience should be a joy to every tired
farmer when he comes in to partake of a meal. Again, the tendency
of all children to throw the towels about the place is a great
nuisance to the housewife. This rack provides that the towel be
sewed together and placed on the roller, which is then slipped into
the groove made to hold it.

Materials:

3’ of poplar.
¼ lb. 8-penny nails.
Sandpaper and stain.
Dimensions:

Foundation: 1 piece ¾” thick × 5” wide × 24” long, to which the brackets

are nailed.
Brackets: 2 pieces 5” thick × 5” wide × 5” long.
Rod: 1 piece 1¼” thick × 1¾” wide × 24” long.
Directions:
The brackets are made any desired shape, with a hole a half-inch in diameter
bored in the centre of each piece. A slit is cut in one bracket from the hole to
the top for the end of the rod to slip in and out. Round the piece (1¼” × 1¾”
× 24”) for the rod. At each end cut a tenon one inch in diameter. Nail the end
pieces to the board (¾” × 5” × 24”). Insert the rod into the hole in the one
end piece and slip it into the slit at the other end. Sandpaper, stain, and
polish.
 PORCH SWING
An inexpensive mission style swing made of oak with space long
enough for two to sit in and broad enough to be used for lounging
purposes. A pad made of burlap and stuffed with an old discarded
quilt will add to the comfort of the swing.
Dimensions:

Frame: 4 pieces, ¾” thick × 3” wide × 43” long for rails in

frame.
2 pieces, ¾” thick × 3” wide × 22” long for ends of frame.
Posts: 2 pieces, 1½” thick × 2” wide × 19” long for front posts.
4 pieces 1½” thick × 2” wide × 23½” long for arms and back
posts.
Slats: 14 pieces ¼” thick × 3” wide × 14” long for back and end
slats.
16 pieces ½” thick × 3” wide × 20” long for slats in seat.
Cleats: 2 pieces ½” thick × 2” wide × 48” long.

Directions:
Mortise the end posts for the back and the front, also arm posts. Mortise the
back and front and end rails of the frame to fit the end posts. Nail and glue
them into position. Round the edges of the seat slats and nail to cleats on the
front and back of the frame. Mortise the back and end slats, fitting them into
the rails and frame and fasten with strong glue. Use support made of iron and
fastened to the seat with screws to give strength to the mortises formed at
the arms and front posts. The chains to suspend the swing are fastened to
holes made in these iron supports. Make the back of the swing first, then the
ends and front, nailing the seat slats in after the glue has fastened the
mortises securely together.
 CHAPTER IV
MISCELLANEOUS EQUIPMENT

A DUSTLESS MOP
A cheap and efficient article for the housewife is a mop made of
old stockings and the handle of an old, discarded broom. This mop
may be used successfully for polished and painted floors as well as
for unpolished floors. It is made by cutting the straw off of a broom
which has worn out. This is cut even with the wires which hold the
straw on the handle. Cover this part of the broom with an old
stocking, which is tacked to the handle securely by sewing it around
two or three times with a double thread. Legs of old stockings are
cut twelve inches long with these strips cut leaving a band two
inches wide to sew to the covering of the broom. Sew them round
and round the surface in rows about an inch apart, until the mop has
been made the desired thickness. Dip the mop into a solution made
of one-half a cupful of melted paraffin and one cupful of coal oil.
When the mop is not in use, it must be wrapped up and kept in a
paper bag in order to keep it moist.
 FOLDING CANNING TABLE
The table shown in this illustration is made of poplar and
designed especially for the Canning Club agent. It folds up and
requires little space, which makes it convenient to take around
during the canning season. The top is zinc-lined to make it more
durable and sanitary. In the center an opening is made to hold the
bucket which catches the parings from the vegetables or fruits. On
the left side is an adjustable zinc-lined trough to hold the vegetables
or fruits while preparing them for use. This will save many steps in
going to and from the basket to get these things. A hole is bored in
the trough, to which is attached a small pipe that allows the water
with which the vegetables or fruits have been washed to run off.

Materials:

18½ ft. of poplar.

¼ lb. No. 5 box nails to nail trough on table.
60 three-penny box nails to nail the zinc on top of table.
16 No. 5 screws, ¾”, to fasten the legs on table.
2 pairs of 2” (butt) hinges to hinge legs on table.
6 3” gate hooks to hook on legs and trough.
6½ lbs. 28-gage zinc to cover the top of table.
1 pail to fit in hole 9” in diameter.

Dimensions:

Top: 1 piece ⅞” thick × 24” wide × 44” long.

Bottom: 1 piece ⅞” thick × 10” wide × 34” long, to be used as bottom shelf.
Crosspieces: 2 pieces ⅞” thick × 4” wide × 20½” long, to be hinged on the
top of the table.
2 pieces ⅞” thick × 1½” wide × 15½” long, to be used as braces for bottom
shelf.
Legs: 4 pieces 1½” thick × 1½” wide × 27½” long.
Braces: 2 pieces ¾” thick × 1½” wide × 2½” long, to support top piece.
Trough: 1 piece 6” thick × 5½” wide × 24” long.
1 piece 6” thick × 6” wide × 24” long.
 Hole: ⅞” thick × 9” wide × 9” long, for opening in center of table.

Directions:
Measure 4 inches from each end of the top and fasten the two crosspieces
(¾” thick × 1½” wide × 20½” long) putting one on each end to brace the
top of the table. These crosspieces must also be put at equal distances from
the sides of the top. Screw the legs on these two pieces, using the
crosspieces (⅞” × 1½” × 15½”) as braces for the legs. Use two gate hooks
on each end of table to support the legs when the table is unfolded. The
bottom shelf (⅞” × 10” × 34”) is placed crosswise on the braces and 9” from
the bottom of legs. This shelf is not to be stationary, for it has to be removed
when the table is unfolded. Bore a hole 9” in diameter in the center of table
to hold the bucket. Fasten the trough, after it has been completed, on the left
side of the table with two gate hooks. Cover the top of the table with the zinc,
using the 60 3-penny nails to tack it on the top. Sandpaper, stain, and polish
the table.
 FLY TRAP
This trap as described below is not only good for the house and
the back porch, where so many flies are attracted by the odor of the
foods, but also excellent for use out of doors. It is inexpensive and
can be easily made at home. Much of the success of the trap
depends upon the bait used. There are many kinds of baits
recommended, such as a plate of vinegar with sugar scattered
around it, banana skins, syrups, and meat. The bait is placed
beneath the cone in a saucer, which rests on the bottom board of
the trap. The flies then enter the cone and are destroyed by smoking
before being removed through the hole in the top. If a poisonous
bait is used the smoking is not necessary.

Materials:

3’ of poplar.
12 5-penny box nails.
1 small box of 3 oz. tacks.
1 ¾” No. 5 screw.
2½ yds. of wire netting, 24” wide.

Dimensions:
Top: 1 piece 1” thick × 16” wide × 16” long.
Bottom: 1 piece 1” thick × 16” wide × 16” long.
Cover: 1 piece ¼” thick × 1½” wide × 2½” long.
Braces: 3 pieces ⅞” thick × 1” wide × 24¾” long.
Cone: 8” high and 12” in diameter at bottom.
Directions:
Take one piece (1” × 16” × 16”) and find the center, using a radius of 8” to
make a circle for the bottom of the trap. Then use a radius of 6” to make an
opening in the bottom on which the cone fits. An opening of 1” × 2” is made
at some convenient point in the bottom of trap through which the dead flies
are removed. Take a piece of wood (¼” × 1½” × 2½”) and make a cover to
fit over this opening. Fasten it on the bottom with a screw so that it may be
easily turned. Make the cone of a piece of wire netting 10” wide. It must fit
the inside circle in the bottom as shown in the illustration. Tack this to the
bottom with 3-oz. tacks. The top of the trap is made just like the bottom
using the same radius. Cut out 3 places in the top and bottom for the braces
(⅞” × 1” × 24¾”) to fit in. These must extend ¾” below the bottom and
nailed in place with 5-penny box nails. Cover the opening in the top with a
piece of wire netting 13” in diameter. The whole frame is then covered with
the 24” wire netting.
 GARBAGE BARREL
The problem of the quickest disposal of the kitchen refuse for the
housekeeper is one of great consideration. The garbage barrel, as
shown in the illustration, is a solution for this problem, in that it is
put between rails with a wheel. The garbage may thus be rolled
away as many times a day as necessary, with a minimum amount of
effort. A covered receptacle promotes sanitation around the back
premises. The size of this convenience varies with the material
available for making the device and with the size of the family.

Materials:

10’ of oak.
8 3½” × ⅜” carriage bolts.
1 barrel
wheel 14” in diameter.

Dimensions:

Rails: 2 pieces 1” thick × 6” wide × 28” long, to be used to hold the barrel in
place.
Handles: 2 pieces ½” thick × 2¾” wide × 5” long.
Directions:
Measure and saw the handles the right dimensions. Taper them at one end as
shown in the illustration. Fasten the rails to the handles with the eight (3½” ×
⅜”) bolts, making the front rail shorter than the back one. The opening
between the rails must fit the barrel at the bottom hoop. Attach the wheel,
14” in diameter, to the smaller end of the two handles.