Reflections and Reflecting in Oklahoma

My sister and I went to Tulsa for New Year’s. Oklahoma is her next-to-last state (in the Great Rigney Family States Saga; she’ll get New Mexico on her own this fall). In typical Rigney nerdy fashion, we found plenty to do. In typical Melanie musing fashion, I found something to chew on thereafter.

We spent several hours at the Will Rogers Memorial Museum in nearby Claremore, and could have stayed even longer. Rogers had it all–a successful newspaper column, a radio show, a stage career, popularity in both silent films and talkies, time as a cowboy, a family, a couple houses, friends famous and not so famous. More than seventy-five years after his death, we remember him for two things: his wit in the way he poked at our political and human situation, and the gentle smile and pleasant tone he used to do it. “We need a Will Rogers today,” my sister said as we came back into the museum from viewing his burial site.

We went to a couple of other Tulsa institutions that are definitely worth your time: the Philbrook Museum of Art and the Gilcrease Museum. The Philbrook is in the lavish home of an oilman (Waite Phillips, as in the brother of the Phillips 66 gas station founders) and includes breath-taking gardens and a nice art collection. The Gilcrease was founded by another oilman, William Thomas Gilcrease, and is said to have the world’s most comprehensive art collection of the American West.

To me, it was most interesting. It seemed Gilcrease and Phillips both were focused on amassing money and amassing the trappings that would tell their friends and the world that they were educated, culturally astute men. Gilcrease died in 1962; Phillips, in 1964. And while I think I understand their mindsets (even though I’ll never be considered rich) and their desire to leave a lasting mark on the world, I think about Will Rogers, and how much simpler what he left behind was: Photographs. Films. A slew of great one-liners and stories. And that common touch that accompanied the gentle smile, that gave my parents and grandparents something to nod and laugh about during the depths of the Great Depression. To me, there’s no question whose legacy is the greatest.