Divided

the window on the street below. A large mob had gathered on the courthouse steps. More kept coming until there was little room to stand. Some shouted, and some gathered bricks and stones. It didn't take being in the printing business to know why the crowd had gathered. Word had traveled like fire. Inside the courthouse, a jail cell held a black man named Will Brown. Due to the nature of the crime had been accused of. The angry mob had no intention of waiting for what the system called

a fair trial. The crowd wanted their own justice. Three days earlier, Agnes low Back and her disabled boyfriend, Milton, both white, had been on their way home after a late movie. A man had stepped out of the Shadows and held them at gunpoint. They had robbed the couple, taking Milton's watch and money, as well as Agnes's ruby rang. Then the attacker dragged nineteen year old Agnes by the hair to an area inaccessible to Milton and dessaulted her.

Both Milton and Actus told the police that this assailant was black. The morning after the attack, Henry's dad had read the derogatory an inciting headline in the Omaha be Fueled by the story, several members within the community began looking for the suspect. A resident told police about a suspicious black man living near the scene of the attack, although it isn't clear why the informant thought the man was suspicious. Police went to the house and found a

man hiding under a bed. They brought him to Agnes and Milton's home, where both identified forty one year old William Brown as the man who had attacked them. Brown was arrested and taken to the jail at the county courthouse. In the days that followed, the already brewing race war between black and white stockyard workers had reached a fever pitch after a strike for higher wages and a safer environment.

The company had filled the positions with black day workers who accepted lower pay and didn't ask for better conditions. The Omaha Bee continued to publish articles that inflamed the rising tensions. Headlines that fueled emotions sold more papers after all, and no emotion worked better than anger. From his family print shop, Henry watched the crowd grow larger by the minute. By seven p m. Over five thousand people had gathered

on the courthouse steps demanding Brown. Police who tried to disband the group were assaulted greatly outnumbered, the officers eventually retreated back into the courthouse. The mayor stepped outside to try to calm the crowd down. It didn't work. They dragged him to the lampost that intended to use to lynch Brown and hung him up instead. A rescuer cut him down just in time, and he was rushed to

the hospital, where he later fully recovered, nearly killing. The mayor did more to give the riders confidence than scare them. They used bricks and stones to break the windows. Several men climbed in through the shattered glass, saturated the floor with gasoline, and then set the building ablaze to flush out the officers and Brown. Firefighters called to the scene found the streets so thick with riders they had trouble getting to the building. Police exchanged gunfire with a sixteen

year old, killing the team. Inside the building, Brown insisted he was innocent to anyone who would listen. By eleven PM, the crowd had broken into the jail, overwhelmed the deputies,

and dragged Brown out into the street. Henry's father knew what was about to happen before he did, and the still in the dark second floor office, his father told him that what he was about to witness was the true horror of what people could do to one another, that taking justice into their own hands wasn't justice at all. Henry stood riveted in place, sweating fists tight, and watched the crowd hang will Brown, and then came the gunfire.

If the news hadn't killed him, the bullets had before cutting his body down, The crowd spun him around, showing off what they'd done. Afterward, the mob cheered as they dragged Brown's body behind a car. Fortunately, young Henry, now sobbing, didn't see what happened next as the riders set Brown's body on fire and dragged him through the streets once more, sick to his stomach and still weeping. Young Henry would never forget that night and vowed he'd do something about it.

He went on to serve in World War Two, and after that became an actor, winning awards for anti racism films such as Young Mr. Lincoln and Twelve Angry Men. He became active in the civil rights movement, and in his later years, an interviewer asked him about that night in Omaha. The memory of it brought him to tears on national television. All those years later, the lynching of Will Brown remained the most horrendous act against humanity that

Henry Fonda had ever witnessed. I'm Lauren Vogelbaum. Welcome to American Shadows. Tulsa's population seemed to grow overnight. Formerly known as Indian Territory, settlers flocked to the area of the discovery of oil there in nineteen o one. Over the next nineteen years, the population swelled to a hundred and forty thousand by nineteen twenty, when the Native American communities

were removed and relocated once more. Jobs brought both white and black citizens seeking a better life, while some of the black population found employment in the stockyards or other day labor jobs. An increasing number found successes lawyers, skilled labor in preachers. A wealthy Black landowner by the name of O. W. Gurley bought forty acres, which he sold only to other Black citizens. Another successful Black entrepreneur believed that poorer African Americans had the best chance of success

if they pooled their resources. With an abundance of work, black citizens agreed and banded together to set up businesses and build homes in the Greenwood district. The area boasted culture and entertainment. It had its own schools, churches, and a library. Hotels, nightclubs, movie theaters, and newspapers began to crop up in Greenwood. Many compared the construction and refinement

of Greenwood Avenue to those of Chicago State Street. With such a prominent and vital community, the citizens who called at home had hopes that their numbers, success and contribution of goods and services to the city of Tulsa offered some protection against Jim Crow laws. By nineteen ten, thousand black residents lived and thrived in Greenwood, with black owned banks, doctor's offices, and grocery stores. The prosperous area became known

as Black Wall Street. All the good fortune intimidated some of the white population. Letters filled with hate often found their way to the most successful Greenwood businesses. Racial divide had been building in Tulsa and around the nation for years. In nineteen nineteen, an iron worker was shot in the back during a robbery. Before he died in the hospital twelve hours later, he told officers that the two men who shot him were black. The shoot made headlines in

the local paper the following morning. That day, three suspects were taken into custody in Greenwood. Rumors spread that vigilantes wanted the men lynched. Fifteen black men drove to the jail to check on the suspect's safety. Convinced the men were well guarded, they left a few days later, on March twenty two, three black police officers were robbed and shot by two white men. The suspects were quickly captured.

The arrests didn't ease tensions much. Brazen criminals shooting and robbing lawman didn't make the citizens feel any safer either. With the growing population, violent crime increased across demographics. In August of nine, Homer Nita, a white taxi driver, stopped to collect money owed to him at a local gas station. His passengers, two men and a woman, all white, beat Nita with a pistol and robbed him. They drove to an isolated location, held Nita gunpoint and forced him to

beg for his life. Then they shot him and left him for dead. A passerby heard the gunshot and rushed the taxi driver to the hospital, where he later died from his injuries. The robbery and murder made the headlines, and a witness stepped forward to identify one of the suspects. Police tracked down the woman, and before long all three passengers were arrested and pleaded not guilty. An angry mob of fifty people arrived at the jail demanding the suspects.

When the sheriff refused, the group disarmed him, holding him hostage in exchange for Roy Belton, one of the accused perpetrators. The mob forced Belton into Anita's stolen taxi. They drove to the location of the shooting and waited for the rest of the mob to arrive. Belton continued to deny any involvement. By the time they strung him up over a thousand spectators had arrived. For eleven minutes, Belton fought for air. Finally, when he was still the mob cut

him down. No charges were pressed, leaving the people of Tulsa to believe their actions were acceptable and justified. In May, of the growing crime rate, vigilanteism and racial divide were set to collide. Dick Rowland, black, nineteen year old, liked flashy clothing and fancy dance moves, often besting his friends around town. He was also a bit of a rebel and got into trouble now and then. He dropped out

of high school in a senior year. By that year, Tulsa had become the oil capital of the world, and with more wealth than they often knew what to do with that money got around the way Roland probably saw it. He could take advantage of the latest oil boom while it lasted. He took up work shining shoes, and the wealthy men tipped him generously. On he took a break between clients. Bathrooms were segregated, and the nearest available black bathroom was on the top floor of the nearby Drexel building.

He entered the elevator operated by White seventeen year old Sarah Page. That's when a clerk working at a clothing store heard a woman's scream. He hurried toward the elevator as Roland ran past him. The clerk said Page looked distressed, assuming that Roland had attempted to assault her, he summoned the police. The police never questioned Page. They filed a report based solely on the clerk's retelling of the events, and left Page's name out of it. Instead of Page

a statement. They interviewed potential witnesses. It soon became clear that Roland and Page knew each other. It wasn't the first time Rowland had had to use the restroom after all. Some said the teens were friends and that Roland would never have attempted to assault her. Others suggested the two were potentially more intimate. In the end, the police determined that whatever had happened in the elevator had not been assault.

They speculated that there might have been some horseplay, or that Roland had tripped and fallen into Page, but that's not how the press report of it, despite no evidence to back it up. The headline suggested he attacked her. The morning paper claimed Page had noticed him looking to see if anyone else was around before stepping onto the elevator. During the attack, he scratched her face, arms, and tore her clothing before she fought him off. She screamed, bringing

the store clerk, who scared Roland away. Two officers, one white and the other black, arrested Roland at his mother's home the next day. While he admitted placing his hand on Page's arm, he insisted that he never harmed her in any way. Many white citizens became furious. Assaulting a white woman had been bad enough, but there had also been allegations of a relationship between the two. The Tribune, known for sensationalism, ran a headline one with a dangerous rumor.

According to the paper, a lynching had been planned. The officers ushered Dick Roland to his cell. If any of the deputies had been superstitious, they might not have put him in the same cell Roy Belton had occupied a year before. But none of the men were aware that the afternoon edition of the Tribune had started firestorm until an hour later, when the first phone call came in informing them that the paper had spurred talk on the

street about a hanging. The talk was more than rumor, both the police and fire commissioner had heard that a lynch mob was forming. By six pm that night, they were proven right. A crowd had gathered outside the court house. An hour and a half later, the small crowd grew to over three hundred. Three men entered the court house demanding to see Roland. The newly elected sheriff, Willard McCullough, told them that there would not be a lynching and

promptly ordered the men to leave. They went back outside, and he all of them to strongly encourage the rest of the crowd to go home. No one left. Outnumbered three hundred to one, the sheriff stepped back inside and locked the doors. Determined to prevent what had happened to Belton from happening to Roland, he sent the elevator to the top floor, making it unable to return to the first floor. Then he ordered his men to take up

defensive positions around Roland. By now several hundred people had joined the mob outside, all demanding the sheriff turned Roland over to them for justice. The growing lynch mob hadn't gone unnoticed. In Greenwood, fifty armed black men drove to the courthouse to offer assistance to the sheriff. Some reports state that the sheriff had asked for their help. McCullough, though denied requesting assistance from the black community, thinking it

would probably do more harm than good. A witness said he warned the sheriff that car loads of armed black men would cause more trouble and to do something about it, and McCullough did. Instead of force, he met with the men, telling them to go home. Then he turned back to the white mob, telling them the same. One angry white man shouted that the sheriff had asked for help from

the Greenwood residence. After watching the sheriff talked with the black men, hundreds of angry but yet unarmed white men headed to the nearby armory to them. If the sheriff was talking to the black residents, then the conspiracy had to be real. Those who were already armed stayed at the courthouse. Major James Bell of the hundred and eighth Infantry heard about the crowd intent on stealing weapons. He called commanders in the National Guard, who in turn ordered

every available member to report at the armory. They arrived moments after the riders converged. Some of them already tugging at the bars over the windows, Bell stepped outside and calmly informed the riders that anyone attempting to enter the bill holding would be shot. Seeing the major in the National Guard with their weapons drawn encouraged the men to leave. The riders returned to the court house, where the crowd exceeded two thousand people. Reverends and the chief of police

all tried to talk the crowd down. Instead of seeing the men's gestures as an attempt at peace, the enraged crowd believed the reverends and the chief were taking every effort to defend and support Roland. From there, some of the white men shouted that their leaders were showing allegiance to the black community over the welfare and concern of white citizens. Shouts of an uprising rang out along with gunfire in Greenwood. Rumors spread that white people had already

stormed the courthouse. Another larger group of armed black men arrived once again, offering to help the sheriff. Their presence and continued discussions with the authorities only fueled the already out of control white mobs conspiracies. The sheriff declined the men's help once more. Around ten thirty that night, the Tulsa Chief of Police notified the governor but the situation was under control. But he was wrong. A rioter demanded that a black man standing near him drop his weapon,

and when the man refused, a shot rang out. Although it's speculated that the shot was fired as a warning from one or the other of the two men, it incited white rioters to open fire on the black crowd. The two groups exchanged gunfire, and in under two minutes, ten white and two black men lay dead. Some reports speculate that some white men were deputized to hunt and kill black people. It remains unclear what official would have authorized such an order. Sheriff McCullough and his deputies were

still barricaded inside the building. The reports show county police were also present. The black men retreated to their cars and sped off toward Greenwood. Members of the white mob chased after them, each side shooting at the other. By eleven that night, the National Guard organized a plan to end the rioting. Guardsmen were stationed at the courthouse and police station. Since the riders now numbered in the thousands, The local chapter of the American Legion joined the rest

of the Guard in patrolling the streets. Though they stayed in the white neighborhoods, they didn't have any orders to go into Greenwood. Black men found in or near the white neighborhoods were taken to the Convention Hall, which acted as a temporary detention center, while several white men remained on the courthouse steps and called for Roland's lynching. No one stormed the courthouse and no other violence occurred there.

That can't be said of Greenwood, though just after one in the morning, riders set the first building on fire. Everything was on fire on the southern edge of Greenwood. White mobs broke windows and tossed lit, oil soaked rags into the businesses on Archer Street, intent on burning the buildings to the ground. Riders with shotguns met fire trucks arriving at the scene and forced the engines to turn around. Firefighters who attempted to turn on a hose were shot at,

but none were injured. Other riders and cars randomly fired into businesses and homes as they sped along the streets. At one point, train passengers arriving in a nearby station had to take cover on the floor. The train cars were riddled with bullets on both sides. More riders took to the wealthy white neighborhoods, going door to door and demanding, often at gunpoint, that any black servants be handed over immediately.

Those who refused were beaten and their property vandalized. At five in the morning, riders mistook a train whistle as a signal to go deeper into Greenwood. They converged on Greenwood by any means possible, on foot or car. A sniper took out one of the riders in the end, though the number of white rioters overwhelmed the black community, they swarmed the streets, taking aim at every man, woman and child. As the black community fled, riders looted homes

and ordered any remaining residents out into the streets. Many were shot or made to walk to Pulsa and the detention center. Rumors spread among the riders that the black residents had used a church to store weapons in caskets. They converged on the church and ransacked it, but no weapons were found. Eldris Ector's mother knew the men would come for them next. She shouted for her daughter to wake up. Doing as her panicked mother asked, Eldoras dressed quickly.

Then hand in hand, they raced out the door. People were running and shouting. Smoke from the fire stained the pink dawn sky. Then the planes arrived. Eldris stopped to stare at them. Should never seen planes fly over Greenwood. Before the sound of gunfire got her and her mother moving again. The men in the planes, what looked like a dozen or more, were shooting at them. Young and old fell dead in the street. His families ran for their lives. Eldor saw a young girl, apparently now an orphan,

run past her. Tears streamed down the small child's face. In her arms, she clutched what was probably all she had left in the world. A small dog. Riders had taken privately owned planes to fly over Greenwood. Law enforcement would later claim they had been sent out a reconnaissance mission to prevent a black uprising. El Doris heard the planes turn. They swooped around again, firing another round into the fleeing people below. Cries of grief filled the air

as loved ones were gunned down. Survivors, still wearing their pajamas and robes, dropped to the ground over the bodies. Others kept running for fear of being gunned down as well. Now separated from her parents in the chaos, Eldorus ran for shelter in a chicken coop. She told herself this was Judgment Day, just like she had learned in Sunday School. She also told herself that Jesus would appear at any moment and save them. Certainly, Jesus would be there any minute.

Her father's arm pulled at her, dragging her from the coop. The family resumed running, joining a sea of other residents fleeing Greenwood. Her family was one of the lucky ones. They would survive, but the scars would remain all their lives. A black doctor was shot and killed after surrendering to a white mob who told him they were simply taking him to the detention center. A white residence standing on her porch was gunned down riders mistook a dark skinned

white man for black inn shot him. During the confusion, Sheriff mc cull and his deputies managed to get out of the court house, taking Roland with them. They safely left town by eight a m. General Barrett finally got official approval to send the National Guard into Greenwood. At nine am, they exchanged gunfire with black snipers who shot at them from the church rooftop. White rioters also shot

at them. By noon, though the guardsmen had managed to stop most of the unrest and provoked any special deputy privileges. Rioters claimed to have over four thousand Greenwood residents were taken into custody. The convention hall, theater, and baseball stadium had been converted into detention centers to hold them. Martial

law remained in effect through June three. At first, sixty eight black people and nine white people were reported to have died during the massacre, though newspapers across the country printed different totals ranging from sixty five. Later, a police officer stated that a hundred and seventy five people had died, but only five from fire. Modern estimates now put the death toll as high as three hundred. Another hundred and

eighty three people had been seriously injured. The only black hospital had been burned down, so black patients were sent to Morningside Hospital, a white facility, and treated in the basement. After the massacre, Pulsa established a public safety committee made up of two hundred and fifty men white men. Their role was to protect the city from further violence. That same day, the National guards shot and killed a white

man who tried to start trouble. All told, over a hundred and ninety businesses were destroyed, as well as a school and several churches. Riders had looted and estimated two hundred and fifteen homes and destroyed one thousand, two hundred more ten thousand people were left on house losses exceeded one point five million dollars over thirty two million today. The governor ordered an inquiry into the events, and a

grand jury convened on June nine. The court heard testimony from black and white witnesses for the next twelve days. In the end, the all white jury determined that the black mobs had started the incident at that the sheriff's department was negligent in preventing it. Though eighty five people were indicted, none were ever convicted. Pulse's former mayor gave a speech claiming the real citizens wept over such an unspeakable crime and that the city would make good on

the damage. That winter, many of the black families still unhoused slept in tents while they rebuilt their homes. Wealthy white developers persuaded political powers to prohibit black residents from rebuilding in Greenwood. Their intentions were clear to force the black community further away from white neighborhoods and take over

the land for their own development. Fortunately, the Supreme Court found the ordinance unconstitutional, but although the city had promised to help them rebuild, most residents of Greenwood were left with a bitter reality. The money never came. It never seemed to end. Carlos Heard, a reporter for the Post Dispatch, watched one horrific scene after another for an hour and a half. In July nineteen chaos ruled the town of East St. Louis, Illinois. White rioters chased after black residence,

beating and killing them. A group of men ganged up on a lone black man. After rendering him unconscious, they've left for their next target. A few moments later, the badly injured man came too, and, still dazed and confused, he didn't see the well dressed white man standing behind him holding a large stone. As the black man sat upright, the white man hurled the rock at him. Shocked by

the indifferent cruelty, Heard felt helpless. Unable to stop the violence, he used his skills to document how casually the white men assaulted their victims. The man in the street hadn't been the only one stoned to death. Others injured and beaten begged for their lives, but there please went unheard. The white women laughed and scorned the black women who begged for some sense of compassion as they too were

stoned and beaten. I can't imagine how Heard got through watching such atrocity, such barbaric and gut wrenching violence against other human beings. The complete breakdown of empathy and decency had to be a nightmare he carried for the rest of his life, and it's hard to understand why so many people could be so devoid of even the tiniest scrap of humanity. Yet, from nineteen seventeen to ninety three,

horrific scenes like this played out across the nation. Anti black riots and massacres occurred in Houston, Chicago, Pulsa, Charleston, Washington, d C. At least twenty six different cities. In Florida, the entire town of Rosewood was destroyed over racial divide during a period called the Red Summer. Nearly a hundred lynchings were recorded Black homes and businesses were reduced to ash. Thousands were killed, tens of thousands more left un housed.

Some scholars say that the riots served as nothing more than a cover to maim, steel and kill with impunity, A terrible thought on its own, though. The Red Summer also had the unfortunate timing of taking place during the KKK resurgence and the Great Migration, when African Americans were moving from poor economic locations to cities that they felt

might be safer than where they had left. It also coincided with white servicemen who had had to leave their jobs to serve in the military, returning to find those jobs filled by Black Americans. Drunken servicemen in d C assaulted and lynched black citizens without provocation. Armed with rifles, Black servicemen took to community rooftops to thwart lynch bobs

from descending onto their communities. With black presidents challenging Jim Crow laws, some white servicemen returned home, believing it was their duty to fight a new war, but with the industrial boom, striking union workers were often replaced with cheaper Black American laborers. Fear over job and housing competition caused many white employees to blame the black day laborers instead of the corporations looking to profit over everyone. Politicians didn't help.

The government sent clear messages on equality as well. When black enlisted men returned from war, they didn't get the same compensation or acknowledgement as their white military counterparts. The nation became a powder keg. In each city. It took just one death or crime committed or allegation among people of different skin colors to set off a spate of violence. Over time, citizens felt that repeated violent crimes against them

went unnoticed and happened with impunity. White instigators believed that the more violently they acted against the black community, the more fear they had instilled, the fear that would keep the black community submissive, they thought. But the opposite proved true, and history repeated itself. The suppressed and the oppressed valued themselves even when others did not. The atrocities of the Red Summer went on to fuel the Civil rights movement.

Change was coming. There's more to this story. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. The iconic Central Park nestled between the Upper East and Upper West sides of Manhattan, The famous urban park spans over a hundred and forty acres. It's the most filmed and visited park in the United States. But in the

early eighteen hundreds, the area was called something else. Seneca Village, White farmer's John and Elizabeth Whitehead sold three lots to a twenty five year old shoeshiner in eighteen twenty five. A store clerk soon purchased twelve lots. Once the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church was built, more African Americans bought land from the farming couple. Soon ten homes dotted the

rolling landscape, and a community was born. The area housed the most looked down upon groups at the time, Irish and African Americans, when two thirds were Black, one third was Irish, and a smattering were of German scent. By eighteen fifty, Seneca Village was a thriving community where most of the residents owned their own homes. The nearby Hudson Rivers supplied fresh water and fishing, and many residents kept gardens and livestock. The majority of homes were small, roughly

built the shanties. Still, it was a haven of sorts, a place to call their own. The area was safer than others for the residents who were told their kind weren't welcome in other parts of Manhattan, and while other communities were divided by race, the three groups lived in harmony. Though multiple generations often shared a home and living conditions were tight, they were better than those in the poorer sections of the already overcrowded city. As New York's population grew,

so did the need for more land. In the early eighteen fifties, the city decided that a municipal park would provide a designated area for recreation among the ever increasing buildings. People in cramped living conditions could enjoy green grass, trees, open space, and fresh air. By eighteen fifty three, purchasing the land from the current owners had come to be difficult, so the city used a special power, eminent domain. It had been a tactic New York had used many times before.

It allowed the city to set what they considered a fair price, often below market value, and then force the sale. Though residents complained bitterly, the city refused to budge. By the end of eighteen fifty seven, every resident had to leave. Those who refused were evicted. The city provided no support or assistance in relocating. Of the one thousand, six hundred people evicted, two hundred and seventy were black. By eighteen sixty,

burial grounds were relocated, homes and businesses leveled. No trace of Seneca Village remained except for one, the All Angels Church. The congregation had once been multicultural, with Black, German and Irish believers all worshiping side by side with its walls, Baptisms, weddings, and funerals were held. Now a new congregation gathered. It's not clear where the residents relocated or what became of them.

All that's left as an information board in Central Park with a short description of what happened to the village, but little is known or written about those who lived there. The residents had lived in the sort of community where race and background brought people together rather than pushing them apart. Today it's all but forgotten. It's often said that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, which means that each of us can keep it alive by

doing something very important by remembering. American Shadows is hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This episode was written by Michelle Muto, researched by Ali Steed and produced by Miranda hawk Ggins and Trevor Young, with executive producers Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn more about the show, visit Grim and mild dot com. From more podcasts from iHeart Radio, visit the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.