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man who carried the trunk was very old. Likely, he had in that trunk many things of great value (Negroes in Tulsa then were as a rule, very wealthy) and thought as much of the contents thereof as he did of his own life. When the old man was hit--no doubt by a dozen bullets--he dropped his burden and shreiked and fell sprawling upon the hard paved street. Blood gushed from every wound and ran down the street. I turned my head from the scene.

From every direction, except the North, we were surrounded, and the mob was closing in upon me. Across the street, directly in front of me, stood the Gurley Building, property of a very wealthy and--up to that time- a very enfluential colored man. I heard shots fired from behind that building and heard angry and profane voices, saying "Come out of there, Gurley-- you black s--o--a--b." I saw an opening to move on and so I sped North, out Greenwood Avenue. About one hundred yards on the way out, I was joined by I.H.Spears, another colored attorney and we proceeded on together. I thought that may be I could make it back to my hotel and find a gun of some sort there-- in some of those rooms. At the intersection of North Greenwood and East Easton--the point at which I intended to turn west--I looked across to my left and there, in stone's cast, stood the Ross residence--burning from the top. On the front porch stood Mother Ross, with outstretched and trembling hands, begging a mob that was approaching from the northwest to spare her home and family(Evidently she had not then discovered her house on fire). From within I could hear the report of some 
high-powered rifles. I remembered the words of young Ross that morning and knew that he was making good his threat. Every time there was a report of a gun from within, one of the members of the mob would fall, never to rise again. I somehow, felt happy. I cannot explain that feeling. I never felt that way--before nor since. I looked North and directly in front of us stood a thousand boys, it seemed, with guns pointed at our heads. They commanded us to "right about face". Then one half starved ruffian came forward to search us. Finding no weapon, he started to take my money. At this I balked. This was the last straw. I had endured about all I could and decided then and there to die, if necessary before I would be robbed by that bunch of hungry out-laws. I have always thanked my God that none of the other members of my family were in the city. My wife and three children were down on the farm--one hundred miles away--and my oldest child--a daughter-- was in College in Tennessee. The next day, I got a chance to route her away from Tulsa on her trip from school.

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-05-03 12:17:12