Scattered among the “dems” and “dats,” is a story of how mean those Yanks were and how good the white folks was to “us niggers.” White men were shot by the KKK for trying to teach blacks in the 1910s and 20s. That was the word that made me break. This was a freed slave! I wanted this fellow human being to lift his head proudly.
We think only of the change forced on white slave owners, to deal with their labor issues and collapsing economy on their own. We rarely think of the change forced on black slaves, to figure out how to support and care for themselves. This change was necessary but hard. Why weren’t we smart enough to recognize the need for a plan to transition the economy of the South to something else and transition these people to new jobs in new businesses.
And that is the CHANGE many are still struggling with. A government has filled the new role of master.
But, thank God, the story continues with his descendants. History constantly moves forward. We met a university professor (insert my big, happy smile) who, despite her joy to discover his freed slave narrative, was dismayed by the language in it. We learn that WPA writers were given instruction to use “dems” and “dats,” obviously someone’s stoopid political agenda. Or maybe one black reporter’s agenda, to spice up the flavor of the piece. The great-great granddaughter insisted he didn’t speak that way.
Grandson Frank Luster, raised by Bert, said he was savvy, spoke however he was expected in different situations, to his advantage. This “downtrodden” freed slave, at different times, was a real estate broker, farmer, produce importer, clerk for the State Board of Agriculture, and janitor at the state capitol. He originally moved from Texas to OK so his kids could receive an education.
“I came to Indian Territory in search of educating my kids,” he said. “I landed here 46 years ago on a farm not far from now Oklahoma City. I got to be a prosperous farmer. My bale of cotton amongst 5,000 bales won the blue ribbon at Guthrie, OK…dat bale of cotton and being a good democrat won for me a good job as a clerk on the Agriculture Board at the State Capitol. All de white folks liked me and still like me and called me ‘cotton king.’ “
When I think of the intelligence and perseverance of this man, I could scream at every confused, young black man today, engaged in crime, violence, drugs, gangs…doing everything but paying attention in school. My heart breaks at the disrespect shown to this ancestor’s hard work and sacrifices. I feel the same way about women who don’t vote. Really? People died for you to have certain rights, and you don’t care?
Other narrative excerpts found online:
“I am a member of the Church of God. My wife is a member of the Church of Christ. I’m a good democrat and she is a good Republican.” (I adore this couple!)
“I’m glad slavery is over, but I don’t think dem white folks was fighting to free us niggers.” Despite the contrived ebonics, you can tell how smart this man was.
The Story of Bert is this: In a few generations, the great-great grandson of a freed slave once custodian of the House of Representatives is elected as a member of the House of Representatives (Rep. Mike Shelton, D-OKC).
That WPA narrative? If the government’s name is on it, it’s usually a lie. The truth is found with the people, the ancestors and the lives they live today.
The Story of Bert should be told in every church this Sunday, taught in every classroom next Monday. It’s a story that teaches all of us to face an uncertain future with courage and hope for the best. And reminds us to shoulder the burden of expectations of our ancestors with resolve. It’s a salute to excellence.
A recent photo of some of Bert's descendants...yeah, the guy with the bow tie is the politician.
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