Save the Crystal!

Save the CrystalOkemah, Oklahoma, is a small town some 73 miles east of Oklahoma City. Okemah was Woody Guthrie’s home town, and it’s where our mother grew up. There’s an elementary school there named after our grandfather. We spent many happy days there in our youth.

It could be argued that Okemah is less thriving today than it once was, but it has always had one thing going for it, in our eyes: The local movie theatre was still in operation, which is not the case in so many small towns across the country today.

The Crystal, which opened in 1910 and was refashioned into an atmospheric theatre in the early 1920s, isn’t showing movies nowadays, but a local group is trying to restore the theatre, which still hosts live events, such as the annual Woody Guthrie Festival.

One hopes that, if the theatre does get fully restored, they’ll start showing moving pictures there again.

You probably have never passed through Okemah. Perhaps you never will. But if you’re a fan of old movie theatres, as we are, you might wish to donate even a few dollars toward the cause of preserving this venerable bijou. You can visit the “Save the Crystal” page at Facebook and donate via Paypal right on the spot.

We’re guessing even a five-spot or whatever else you can spare would be greatly appreciated.

In search of Pat


Maude Ellen Johnson Oakes in 1937

We only knew one of our great-grandparents, our mother’s grandmother Maude Ellen Johnson Oakes, who as a teenager in the 1890s, traveled with her family in a covered wagon from Illinois to Oklahoma. She lived to the age of 92, so in her lifetime, she saw an astonishing number of changes. Think of it—she came to Oklahoma in a covered wagon in her youth and lived long enough to see men on the moon, not to mention the advent of cars, radio, moving pictures, television, women being given the right to vote (she was nearly 40 then), the civil rights movement, and on and on.

Distracted by the tunnel vision of youth, it never occurred to us to ask Maude, who was in her eighties and nineties when we knew her, about her husband, and though we’re not proud of it, we’ve long considered genealogy buffs kind of, well, dorky.

But with the recent passing of our mother and our weekly devotion to Who Do You Think You Are?, the notion of tracking down info on our ancestors suddenly began to appeal. We took Ancestry.com, which is featured frequently on WDYTYA?, up on their offer of a two-week trail membership, and began digging.

It’s remarkable, really, what one can uncover in a short amount of time.


Patterson and Maude
in happier times

In 1900, Maude married a man named Patterson Nehemiah Oakes, who was born in North Carolina (as was his father before him; his mother was born in Tennessee). Maude was born in Illinois (Taylorville, we learned from a news clipping published at the time of her death), as was her mother. Her father was born in Ohio.

In 1910, Maude and Patterson lived in a town called Canadian in the Texas panhandle. All three of their sons—Cecil (my grandfather), Herbert, and Elmer—had already been born. Patterson was working as the manager of a confectionery.

In 1920, they were still married and living in Pauls Valley, Oklahoma, about 60 miles south of Oklahoma City. Their address was 102 N. Elm Street. Patterson was a civil servant—a rural carrier (which I’m guessing refers to mail). Maude was a saleslady at a dry goods store.

Maude is listed in the 1920 census as being 37 years old, which is a couple of years younger than we thought—we had her as being born in 1881, but perhaps she fudged her age a bit? Patterson was 41.

One additional tidbit of info: According to that census, everyone in the family—Patterson, Maude, and their three sons Cecil, Herbert, and Elmer—could read and write.

We’ve not managed to pin down the date, but Maude and Patterson were divorced sometime relatively soon after that 1920 census was taken. We know it wasn’t long after the census because Cecil, their eldest son who was born in 1904, was still in high school at the time. We may never know why Maude and Patterson (did he go by Pat? Not sure) parted—Granddad never spoke of the divorce or, indeed, Patterson himself to our mother and her siblings.

Now, let’s jump forward to 1930.


Maude and Pepper, greatest
dog ever, in 1970

Patterson is now married to a woman named Ellen, who was born in Indiana (as were both her parents) and was 12 years older than Patterson. In 1920, he is 52; she is 64.

Ellen has been married before (as has Patterson, of course).

They live at 338 East 3rd Street in Oilton, Oklahoma, about 39 miles west of Tulsa, where he is employed as the manager of a filling station. Ellen works as a seamstress out of their home.

They own a radio (yes, that was a question on the 1930 census).

Patterson died in 1948. The date, place, and cause of death we’ve not tracked down, though we’re still on the case. Maude died in February 1972, on our mother’s birthday.

That’s all we have so far. I’d still like to know what came between Patterson and Maude in the early 1920s, but when you consider that, six or seven weeks ago, we didn’t even know a single thing about Maude’s husband—not even his name—it’s not a bad start.

The Karen Files, pt. 1

As we told you yesterday, we’re going to be sharing with you some photos and documents we discovered in dusty boxes and crates last week following the passing of our mother.

It’s our way of celebrating her life, and we are confident she’d be pleased at our (and, we hope, your) interest.

View the high-res version

Our first offering depicts both Karen as a young girl and her folks in their salad days, which we found exciting. We had somehow reached a ripe old age (well, not that old) without ever having seen a picture of our mother’s folks as young marrieds, and that situation has now been rectified.

Karen is the little tot in the front of the line, and the young gentleman just behind her is her brother Cecil, Jr. Behind him stand our grandparents, Cecil Sr. and Frances. We love Granddad’s suit, and were pleased to see Grandmother looking lovelier than we might ever have imagined.

Who the other four people are, we don’t know, but we’ll look into it and get back to you.

This shot was taken in on April 21, 1935. The setting is very likely somewhere in Oklahoma—Okemah, perhaps, or Norman. Karen was two years old.

As with most images at Cladrite Radio, you can click the photo to see a larger version of it or select the hi-res link below the photo to do some real scouring for detail.

Watch this space in days to come for more from the Karen Files.