Obie Mann Story and the Fight to Save Black Wall Street (eBook)
168 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-1313-0 (ISBN)
My name is Michael T. Hayes, and I am a direct descendant of Obie Mann. He was my great uncle. My inspiration to write ' The Obie Mann Story and the Fight to Save Black Wall Street' came from the desire to know more about my Great Uncle Obie Mann. Obie Mann was born December 23, 1898, in Grayson, Texas, his parents were Pleasant and Octavia Porter-Mann (My mom's name was Octavia) and Obie passed away in 1944. My mom didn't talk much about Obie Mann, I believe reason my mother never talked about Obie and the Tulsa massacre was because of the painful memories and devastation that occurred there. I came across Obie Mann when I read the book ' The Burning'. Then I started researching and doing my due diligence and discovered that Obie and his brother Mckinley owned the largest Grocery Store in Greenwood and other business in Greenwood. He was a decorated World War I hero, and he played a major role in the fight to protect Greenwood in 1921, better known as Black Wall Street. I am native Washingtonian, a graduate of Virginia Union University, and an Army Veteran. Both of my children are military veterans. We are a family dedicated to service and equality. This is a story about survival and resiliency. This story not only needs to be on the pages of a book, but it also needs to be a major motion Picture.
Obie Mann was a successful grocery owner from Tulsa, Oklahoma (Greenwood District aka Black Wall Street) and a decorated World War I hero who led the resistance against German forces in the trenches of Normandy. Despite facing extreme hostility, he and his fellow soldiers adhered to the rules, worked hard, and supported each other. Their unit, the 92nd Division of the Army-an all-Black division-was eventually activated to fight. Together with U.S. and French divisions, they broke through enemy lines, advancing nearly 10 miles and pushing the Germans out of the Meuse Forest. For their bravery, Obie and his fellow soldiers received the French Croix de Guerre and the U.S. Distinguished Service Cross. Upon returning home, they hoped for equal treatment but found that the hearts and minds of white America had not changed. Their loyalty, patriotism, and sense of worth were not reciprocated. Everything changed on May 31, 1921. Determined to prevent a lynching, Obie recruited men from Greenwood to join him at the jailhouse to protect Dick Rowland, a Greenwood resident falsely accused of raping a white woman. They encountered a large, angry white mob. When an older white man saw Obie's gun and lunged for it, a struggle ensued, and the gun went off, killing the man. Chaos erupted, and Obie shouted, "e;One Shot One Kill,"e; as he and his men raced out of the building. They survived the initial encounter but knew the fight wasn't over. Obie returned to Greenwood, ready to defend his town and way of life. This is Obie Mann's story from Texas to Oklahoma during the Great Migration, through his valor on the battlefields of France in World War I, to his fight in one of the deadliest racial massacres in U.S. history.
CHAPTER 1
The Porter Plantation was a Large One and David Porter, like his father, was a slave owner. His wife Thirsie had been ill for months and David knew the end was near.
The pastor had just left the room and was now right outside the bedroom door with the house slaves standing by themselves a few feet away. David sat by his wife’s bed as she lay dying. Their children surrounded the bed while he held her hand. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was labored.
“Everyone is here,” David whispered to her quietly.
Thirsie slowly opened her eyes and looked around at her children. Then her eyes settled on David. Their eyes met and she gave him a slight smile. “Promise me that you’ll find someone,” she whispered. “You’re too young to be alone.”
He smiled back through the sadness, looked deeply into her eyes, and shook his head, no. “There’s no one else for me.”
“At least find someone who can take care of you,” she said much quieter this time. A moment later she closed her eyes and let out a final sigh. She was gone.
David wiped the tears from his eyes, stood, and kissed her forehead. His marriage was a good one and he would miss her dearly. David then left the room so that his children could say goodbye to their mother.
About a year after Thirsie’s death, David grew tired of his single man’s life. He finally understood why his wife made him promise not to stay alone. He was bored as there was nothing for him to do. His field slaves took care of the plantation, his house slaves took care of the house, and the wet nurse took care of the younger children.
Unfortunately, with David, boredom led to drinking—too much drinking, in fact. Now, that seemed to be all that he did despite the promise he made to his wife. He knew he had to stop.
As he sat in the study contemplating his life, Mattie, one of the female house slaves, came into the room to clean. She stopped in her tracks once she saw him.
“Sorry, Massa. I can come back.” She turned to leave the room.
“No, wait a minute. Come on and do the cleaning.”
“Yes, Suh.” She quickly went about her work.
David watched her. Perhaps it was the liquor or perhaps he was tired of waking up alone. While he needed a woman’s touch, he had no intention of getting married again. Nor did he wish to lay with a woman who laid with men for money. The last thing he wanted in this world was to catch the pox or, worse, some other disease that had no cure.
Mattie worked intently, focusing on what she was doing. Then she was on her knees wiping the dust from the corners of the floor. David took note of her figure, her small waist and round bottom. Being on her knees this way excited him. Her breasts hung low and were pointed to the floor. They swayed back and forth as her hand and arm moved in a circular motion wiping the dusty floor near the bookcase.
David continued to admire his slave’s figure and then he looked at her face. She was young, much younger than David. Her skin was a deep smooth chocolate with high cheekbones. He had been told that she had Indian blood in her. Her long hair was tied behind her head and cascaded down her back. She was beautiful and David wondered why he didn’t notice that before.
The house slave, still on her knees, was facing David, though her head was down as she was focused on what she was doing. The neckline of her tunic was loose, and David could see down to her breasts. They were exquisite! They were full, firm, and meaty. David’s wife had always been skinny, with small breasts and a rather flat behind. This woman was everything his wife was not. Soon she was finished and got to her feet.
“You missed a spot,” David said quickly, not wanting her to leave. “Right there,” he said, pointing to the imaginary spot on the floor.
“Sorry, Suh.” She dropped to her knees and began wiping the floor again. “I’ll take care of it, Suh.”
Of course, there was no spot on the floor. David knew it and so did she. He watched her again and felt himself getting aroused.
“That’s fine,” he said after a time. “You got it.”
“Yes, Suh,” she said, getting to her feet.
“The floor looks beautiful,” he said, continuing the pretense.
“Thank you, Suh.” She gave a quick bow and left the room.
David smiled to himself as he realized that he found the answer to his problem.
Later that evening, George, David’s slave butler, brought David his dinner. David didn’t leave the study since his earlier encounter with the cleaning woman. He could not get her out of his mind.
George, an elderly man with a genteel personality, had been with the Porter family since he was a child. He was responsible for managing the house slaves and was directly responsible for David.
George placed the food in the same place as always. This was so routine that the two men rarely said anything to each other during the deliveries. However, tonight would be different.
“Hold on a moment, George.”
“Yes, Suh, Mr. David,” George replied, surprised at the change of routine.
“I need you to bring me the girl who cleans my study.” David pulled a book from the bookcase as he spoke.
George approached David cautiously. “Somethin’ wrong, Suh?”
David was sober now and still aroused by the thought of the slave girl cleaning the floor on her knees.
“Did I say something was wrong?”
“Nah, Suh. It’s just that you never asked for nobody before, Suh. If the girl did somethin’ wrong, Suh, I will take care of it.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong. I want to see her.”
George, as amenable as he was, knew what was going to happen next. He had seen it many times and heard about it happening on other plantations. He knew who David was talking about. He had watched the girl grow up. George was old enough to be Mattie’s grandfather and she would smile every time he called her “granddaughter.” He kept his eyes to the floor, hoping that his anger would not show.
David would get what he wanted, and they both knew that. David was not asking permission nor was he seeking approval. The cleaning girl was a house slave and George oversaw the house slaves. As such, George was given a task, and this was Master David Porter’s plantation.
“I’ll go fetch her,” George said quietly and left the study.
As George walked down the hallway, he thought of his time with the Porters. The family was well known in Grayson County, Texas. And at seven feet tall, David was the tallest man he had ever met. George had come to the plantation when David was a young boy. His parents had been sold off to separate plantations, but George remained with the Porters. David’s mother took care of George and was responsible for the little learning that George received.
George was for a short while David’s playmate, though he saw himself more of a babysitter. When David could look after himself, George was taught to serve David’s parents. George learned very quickly and did what he was told.
David’s mother was a kind lady and was kind to George, which he appreciated. By the time George was in his mid-30’s, he was managing the house slaves.
David was just like his father. He was tall, lean, hard and, at times, mean. Taking this young girl like this was mean but there was nothing George could do about it.
The sky had been gray and cloudy all day and only now did it start to rain. The rain was a light sprinkle, almost an annoyance. George walked up to the slave quarters that housed the cleaning slaves and knocked on the door. He could smell food being prepared and knew he was interrupting the dinner hour. One of the older women opened the door and frowned when she saw George standing there.
“George?”
“Send Mattie out,” he said as he backed away from the door.
“It’s late. Is somethin’ the matter?”
She was genuinely concerned. Mattie was like a daughter to her, and she had always treated Mattie with motherly kindness. This only made George feel worse about what he had to do.
“Do as I say and go on about your business,” George said quickly. “This don’t concern you.”
The woman stood aside, and Mattie stepped outside the cabin and closed the door behind her. She was still dressed in her work clothes and her face mirrored her concern over George’s unexpected appearance at her door.
“What’s the matter, George?”
“Massa Porter sent me to fetch you, Mattie.”
“Is he mad at me?”
George was reticent to answer her. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Nah,” he said finally, not looking at her directly.
Mattie was 15 years old. She was happy, or at least as happy as a slave could be. She worked hard and cared about people. Mattie loved birds and George knew that she was captivated by them. He was saddened by what he had to do.
“Look here,” George said, looking at Mattie directly. “We gotta be quick. Go get your things.”
Mattie moved closer to George, a little fear creeping into her voice. “Wh-wh-why?”
“Massa Porter...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 15.8.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3178-1313-0 / 9798317813130 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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