Some jottings on Oklahoma’s ‘second city’
Tulsa is the second-largest city in Oklahoma. Someone tells me, “We’ve always suffered from Second City syndrome. We’ve been trying to catch up to Oklahoma City for generations.”
‐Man, is the sky big. I don’t know if it’s Montana big. Still: big.
‐Directly outside the airport, there is a statue of an airman. It turns out to be called Morning Mission. It pays tribute to the thousands of young men who trained to fly here during World War II. Not just Americans but allies.
I should really say: “Allies,” capital “A.”
A lot of those guys, of course, did not survive the war.
‐On the way into town, I see several signs that say, “Up with Trees.” This is a civic organization, whose purpose is to arbify — is that a word? arborize? — Tulsa.
A Kenyan woman, Wangari Maathai, won the Nobel Peace Prize for essentially this reason.
‐There are QT convenience stores here. I have never seen them before. Damn fine stores, too. Years ago, “QT” meant “quiet,” as in “Keep it on the QT.” This “QT” stands for “QuikTrip.”
‐Behind the counter is a girl named Harmony. (I’m not supposed to say “girl,” but I don’t care.) Lovely name. Does it add extra pressure to be harmonious? What if you were named “Joy”? “Faith”?
‐Downtown stands the Mayo Hotel. A grand hotel, a venerable institution. You can sort of see Bogie and Bacall in the lobby, having a smoke.
‐“Downtown was dead,” I hear, “and now it’s coming back.” I have to tell you honestly: My entire life, I’ve heard, in towns and cities across America, “Downtown was dead, and now it’s coming back.”
Maybe it’s true, in all of those places.
‐Main Street, I see, is also known as the “Avenue of the Sister Cities.” Huh. I wonder if people ever call it that. In Manhattan, they wanted people to call Sixth Avenue the “Avenue of the Americas.” But it never caught on.
‐I like this street name: “Librarium Way.” Beautiful phrase. What’s a librarium? A library, I guess, or a bookcase.
‐The Tulsa County Court House is perfectly modern: perfectly ugly, perfectly soulless. Why did people want buildings to cease being beautiful, or even pleasant, or even interesting? That is an old, old subject, but we are moving along here …
‐I bet the courthouse that this new one replaced was a winner.
‐There has been a police shooting here — a shooting by a white officer of a black citizen. Those are the only police shootings I ever hear about. I imagine there are others. Someone tells me that Al Sharpton has been here, protesting. He gets around.
America seems to be a cauldron these days. Has it always been so? To one degree or another, probably.
‐I actually see a protest — pretty small. And pretty gentle. About 15 people, not young, are protesting “smart meters.” What are smart meters? I’m not sure, but the protesters hold them to be offensive.
They are protesting outside the PSO, which stands for “Public Service Company of Oklahoma.” (Don’t sweat the “C.”) That is a beautiful building. It looks like it must be the old high school. Sure enough.
I’ve seen this all over America, especially in my home state of Michigan. The nice building downtown is the old high school. The new high school is on the outskirts, and it is oogly. Basically a box.
‐The Bok Center — not Box Center — is spiffy. But “Bok”? I know it doesn’t have to do with Oriental food (as we said in the bad old days — allegedly bad old days). It can’t have to do with Derek Bok, the onetime president of Harvard. (He married the Myrdals’ daughter Sissela.) (I remember when Bok and Bill Bennett had a debate. It did not go well for Bok.)
Well, the center turns out to be the BOK Center, capital letters — which stand for “Bank of Oklahoma.”
‐The Tulsa World — what a great name for a newspaper. When we lose newspapers, will we lose the names, or will they transfer over to websites and so on? The Sacramento Bee, the (New Orleans) Times-Picayune. It would be a shame.
‐All over the country, I see PACs, and, political nut that I am, I think “political action committee.” But it’s “performing arts center.”
‐For once, I sort of pass as a local. I am wearing an Oklahoma hat — a University of Oklahoma hat. I bought it a few years ago when I was in OKC (Oklahoma City), interviewing Harold Hamm, the great oilman.
A man who is also wearing the hat gives me a warm wave. We are brothers, you see. Someone else starts talking about this coming Saturday’s game. I affect knowledge.
‐By the way, nice of these Tulsans to welcome this Michigander (me) with a Detroit Avenue. (There are avenues named for other cities — like Cincinnati — so I can’t get too cocky.)
‐Touching, to me, is a clutch of monuments honoring Rotary International. One stone says, “As America’s most generous city, Tulsa boasts a rich tradition of volunteerism, selflessness, and personal and corporate philanthropy.”
Rotarians have worked to supply clean and safe water in impoverished lands. There is a statue of a woman wearing hoop earrings, and carrying a jug of water on her head.
Rotarians have fought like deuces against polio. There is a statue of a girl, one crutch at her side. She is triumphant, being able to throw her crutches away.
“Service above self,” goes the Rotary motto. I don’t know if these guys put “America First” — they seem awfully “globalist” to me — but I know that they are wonderful, and wonderfully American.
All of my life, I have heard of the good that Rotary does, and seen some of it too. I hope they go on and on.
‐I’m looking at Ron’s Hamburgers & Chili (Est. 1975). The sub-marquee — have I coined that? — says, “Best Frito Pie on the Planet.” I wish I could go in and test it out …
‐You never know what you’re going to hear on the streets. Two men are talking. One says to the other, “The thing about Rigoletto is, he can be a character baritone because he’s a father, unlike, say, the Conte di Luna.” (Rigoletto is the title character of one Verdi opera, and the Conte di Luna is a character in another one, Il trovatore.)
I mean, you just never know …
‐The Arkansas River is lazy today — a lazy, lazy river. I think of the Mills Brothers (greatest pop group in history), singing, “Up a lazy river by the old mill run, the lazy, lazy river in the noonday sun …”
‐Part of downtown is blocked off for a festival of sorts. It turns out to be a private function — a fundraiser for women who are incarcerated, or about to be released. I think, “You know? There’s a lot to complain about, but people do a lot of good, they really do.”
‐I want to make a point about language — about pronouns, in particular. Back in the airport, there’s a sandwich place. Two people are working behind the counter, a man and a woman. The man has taken the order of a customer. That order is ready. The woman is about to go to a microphone and call it out.
The man gestures to the customer, a man who is standing in front of the counter. “They’re right here.”
The “they” referred to the man, the lone person, standing right there. I guess that’s modern.
‐One of the sandwiches is a CBLT — “chicken bacon lettuce and tomato.” I have this thought: “To ‘BLT,’ you can add all sorts of letters, rather as to ‘LGBT.’ They keep coming and coming, in various combinations.”
‐The best part about Tulsa? Well, for me it’s that my National Review colleague Mark Wright — Mark Antonio Wright, or “Marko,” to me — has gotten married here. May he and his Miss T enjoy many happy returns, and you too, dear readers. Thanks, and see you later.