The 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre: A Photographic History

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By  Karlos K. Hill—

Throughout my career, I have studied dozens of lynching photos that include scenes of white vigilantes torturing Black bodies. Nonetheless, when I first viewed images of the Tulsa Race Massacre, I could not look away. I felt compelled to continue looking at more and more photos, trying to come to a clearer understanding of exactly what transpired during the explosion of white mob violence that has come to define both the Greenwood District and Tulsa itself.

There is an eerie quality, even a surreality, to these photos. At first glance, they call to mind photographs of Berlin, Germany, after weeks of aerial bombardment during World War II. In many ways, I still cannot believe what the photos make clear: a residential neighborhood spanning thirty-five blocks was burned to the ground in a matter of hours.

White civilians were only too eager to take up arms and assist the authorities in “protecting” the community.

Without the photographic evidence, the claim that a community the size of the Greenwood District was reduced to rubble would seem dubious, even audacious. In this way, race massacre photos are portals to the past. They help bring into view aspects of this history that might otherwise be denied or forgotten.

Despite the indisputable visual evidence, however, we can never know with certainty everything that happened during the twelve hours of violence that destroyed the Greenwood District. We can never fully know what it was like to experience the terror of witnessing loved ones being killed, family members being interned, or one’s community being destroyed.

Victims’ corpses were a macabre subject for postcards intended to be sold commercially and sent through the mail.

As I carefully studied the numerous extant photos in preparation for writing my book, it became clear to me that the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre is likely not only the most destructive but also the most photographed instance of anti-Black violence in American history.

The quantity of photos and the prevalence of photo postcards suggests that as whites burned and looted the Greenwood District, they also wanted to document its destruction so that others could witness and vicariously participate in their triumphant defeat of a so-called “negro uprising.”

This is not to suggest that every photo was taken for this purpose, but it is clear from inscribed captions such as “Running the Negro out of Tulsa” that whites who snapped pictures as Greenwood burned were impelled at least in part by the desire to convey a story of white conquest.

 The Williams Dreamland Theatre, 127 North Greenwood Avenue, circa 1921. Opened in 1914, the Dreamland hosted silent films, music concerts, and lectures. As the first Black movie theater in Tulsa as well as the first Black entertainment space in the state of Oklahoma, it was an important symbol of Black Wall Street’s affluence prior to the race massacre.

The burned-out shell of the Dreamland Theatre.

Perhaps the most chilling photos are those that show whites standing over the bodies of deceased Blacks or posing in front of building ruins. Who were the individuals pictured in these photos? Were they involved in the death and destruction, or were they mostly looters or curiosity seekers? Might white contemporaries viewing the photos today recognize the face of a friend or family member? If so, would they be willing to come forward with identifying information for those individuals?

Of course, merely knowing the names of white participants and spectators would be far from justice, but it would nonetheless be significant, in that it would remove white anonymity and provide at least a measure of accountability for some whites’ role in the massacre.

Unfortunately, it is doubtful that we will ever know the identities of the white civilians and civil authorities who participated in the destructive frenzy in the Greenwood District. When it comes to anti-Black violence, justice is too often permanently deferred.

White Tulsans look on as Mount Zion Baptist Church is consumed by flames.

And what about the unidentified Black victims depicted in these photos? Having spent countless hours studying the images, I am haunted by the thought of how afraid and alone they must have felt in their last moments, and by the pain they must have suffered. I am haunted by my inability to discern who they were in life and to know whether their surviving family members were able to provide them a proper burial and thereby gain some sense of closure. I am haunted by the idea that photographed victims were revictimized by being tossed into a mass grave. One hundred years have passed since the race massacre, and yet these questions are more imperative than ever before.

The photos collected in my book make clear that what occurred during the night of May 31 and the morning of June 1, 1921, was more than a race riot. Uniformed officers of the law and hundreds of white civilians invaded and systematically burned and pillaged the Greenwood District.

The photo used for this postcard depicting “captured Negros” being marched by white civilians to Convention Hall was likely taken downtown on South Main Street.

As Greenwood went up in flames, white city officials did little to quell the violence or extinguish the fires. The violence caused millions of dollars in damage—financial losses that were never recouped. Dozens, if not hundreds, of Black fatalities were likely buried in mass graves.

The photos of deceased Black bodies strewn across Greenwood’s streets and alleys testify not only to the level of white mob violence but also to the number of innocent Blacks who were killed simply for residing in the community.

For these reasons and more, what occurred was at minimum a race massacre, but it could aptly be described as a community lynching. By this I mean that the incineration of every significant structure in the Greenwood District and the indiscriminate killing of its residents was meant to create a spectacle of violence so powerful that terrorized Black people would leave the city and never return.

Blog Editor’s Note: It has been estimated that more than 1,400 Black homes and businesses were looted and burned between May 31st–June 2nd, leaving nearly 10,000 people homeless and more than 300 dead.

Because of Black Tulsans’ courage and resolve, that expulsion was not achieved. Because of their grit and determination, Greenwood not only was rebuilt, but it thrived for many years thereafter.

The photos of Black survivors smiling despite the trauma they endured are a testament to Greenwood’s triumph over hate. While I am saddened by the number of photos that were taken of the race massacre, I am thankful that so many of them survived, because they have made it impossible for the scope of the violence and destruction to be denied. [Continued below.]

A Survivor’s Story

A detained Black man is patted down before being taken into Convention Hall. 

On the morning of June 1st, I met the mob of Whites at the door where I was. They marched me to Convention Hall with my hands up. From there I was taken to the Ball Park and saw many men and women who were homeless. There I slept on two benches.

I left the park the next morning and looked up my wife who was stopping with some friends. Then I purchased a folding chair, a strop and razor and went down on Greenwood amidst the ashes and ruins and started a barber shop.From a 10-room and basement modern brick home, I am now living in what was my coal barn. From a 5-chair white enamel barber shop, 4 baths, electric clippers, electric fan, 2 lavatories and shampoo stands, 4 workmen, double marble shine stand, a porter and an income of over $500 or $600 per month, to a razor, strop and folding chair on the sidewalk

The need to confront the white supremacy embedded in these images, as well as the histories and contemporary realities of racial segregation and anti-Black racism that gave rise to the massacre, is a lesson that I hope readers will draw from this volume.

Greenwood circa 1938. By 1942, the district boasted nearly 250 businesses, exceeding the number of business that had been in operation at the time of the race massacre.

These images should challenge all those who view them to think deeply about our relationship to this history. They should force us all to think about our collective responsibility for the present-day legacies of the race massacre.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Karlos K. Hill is Associate Professor and Chair of the Clara Luper Department of African and African American Studies at the University of Oklahoma.

ABOUT THE BOOK

The above article is an abridged and edited excerpt from The 1921 Tulsa Massacre: A Photographic History by Karlos K. Hill © 2021.  It has been reprinted by permission of the publisher, University of Oklahoma Press. The book is a richly illustrated hard cover volume, featuring more than 175 photographs, along with oral testimonies. Images are  fully captioned. Available at Amazon for $30.

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Article Last updated: June 04, 2021