OKLAHOMA Indian Native American photo rich oil Creek

Jackson Barnett richest Creek Indian from Oklahoma vintage original 6 7/16x 8 7/16 inch photo

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[Muskogee Daily Phoenix, June 3, 1934]
BARNETT'S DEATH CLOSES ONE STORY AND OPENS SECOND

Jackson Lived Alone Near Henryetta Until Gold Rushed From Scrubby Acreage

FOUND BY 'ADVENTURESS'

Battle for Indian Millions Just Starting, a Heirs Flock to Agency Here.

The death of Jackson Barnett last week brought to a sudden close one of the strangest and at the same time one of the sordidly romantic stories in the history of the rich Creek nation and began another.

Jackson Barnett was "the world's richest Indian".  As oil gushed forth from his 160 acres in Creek county - land that had been given up as unproductive, and which had been allotted him as punishment for his participation in the ill-fated "Crazy Snake" rebellion - Barnett's fortune was estimated at $90,000 per month, and 10 years later, as oil continued to pour from his properties, it was still estimated at more than three million dollars.

At his death, Jackson Barnett enjoyed a monthly income of $2,500 and had more than $1,900,000 on deposit with the superintendent of the Five Civilized Tribes.

For 70 years Jackson lived among his dogs and ponies in a log cabin shack near Henryetta.  Unkept, unlettered, dirty, the millionaire Creek was considered a "scrub" Indian, unable to meet the requirements of the Creek tribe.  An outcast, Jackson lived alone until "black gold" poured out of his allotment.

It was there that Anna Laura Lowe, a Kansas oil promoter, found him, and rushed the millionaire "scrub" across the Kansas state line to marry him.  Mrs. Lowe is reported to have made several trips to Barnett's cabin to woo the aged Creek incompetent.  Jackson later said that he refused several times to marry Mrs. Lowe, an attractive white widow, because she called when it was "getting dark."

Against that marriage the Indian bureau cried in protest.  They insisted that Jackson was incompetent, did not understand the intent of marriage vows, and that the extent of his participation in the marriage ceremony had been a "grunt and a grin."

Need Other Kidnapers

Mrs. Barnett, the former Mrs. Lowe fought back with quiet and sullen fury.  She insisted that she had done more for Jackson than the government had ever done.

"If I kidnaped him," she insisted, "the government ought to hire other women like me to go out and kidnap the rest of the Indians."

The Barnett's - now central figures in a drama of riches that whirled about the unperturbed head of the childish old millionaire - moved to Muskogee to take up their residence as the department of interior continued its efforts to annul their marriage.

Never seriously concerned in any of the litigation to which he became a placid onlooker, Jackson insisted that he "liked" his wife and was willing to share his fortune with her.

"She smart woman" he said, "she count my money."  Barnett once attempted to estimate his fortune by the number of ponies it would buy.

Harassed by attorneys, Mrs. Barnett suddenly bundled up the "chief" and hurried him to California to a mansion at the corner of Wilshire Boulevard.  The step was taken, she insisted, to protect the "chief" against the ravages of further litigations.

In California, the aged Barnett found new interest in life.  Mrs. Barnett provided him with his loved calico ponies, and allowed him to stand daily on the parking as he directed traffic.

Held Prisoner Here

But Jackson was not allowed to remain in California.  Insisting that they had been kidnaped, the Barnetts were pushed back into Oklahoma and held virtual prisoners in the Baltimore hotel here pending disposition of their affairs before the eastern district of Oklahoma federal court.

Because Federal Judge Robert L. Williams was confined to a Battle Creek hospital at the time, Federal Judge F. E. Kennamer of Tulsa released Barnett on a $2,500 bond, warning Mrs. Barnett at the same time that criminal prosecutions would be brought against her if she attempted to take her "husband" back to the coast.

Mrs. Barnett was said at that time to have kept a automobile in front of the Muskogee federal building preparatory to a dash back to their Los Angeles mansion, but reconsidered in view of Judge Kennamer's lashing warning and engaged a cottage in Muskogee on West Broadway.

Back to California, the Barnett wrangle continued unabated as the department of interior insisted that the "faked marriage" should be annulled.  Despite the fact that the couple had lived as husband and wife for more than 13 years, the government continued its efforts to secure an annulment and to denounce Mrs. Barnett as an imposter.

Marriage Held Void

On March 31, 1934, Federal Judge William P. James of Los Angeles declared the marriage void.  It was a shock not only to Mrs. Barnett and to the unperturbed Jackson, but to the department of interior that originally sought annulment only to later recognize the validity of the "grunt and grin" marriage vows.

Judge James held that Jackson Barnett was an incompetent and that he had not known the purpose of the marriage ceremony.  He held, however, that Barnett could employ his wife as a housekeeper, but that expense accounts were not to exceed $2,500 per month.

Jackson Barnett's Indian fortune is one that has rocked national administrations, brought on senatorial investigations and demands for cabinet resignations.  Jackson alone of the principals concerned in the million dollar litigations has remained calm and undisturbed as the drama of human greed broke about his aged head.

On Sept. 26, 1926, Harold McGugin, long an attorney for Mrs. Barnett, carried a direct appeal to President Calvin Coolidge, insisting that attorneys should "let Jackson alone."  McGugin insisted that Sen. W. B. Pine of Oklahoma had attempted to tie up the Barnett funds in Okmulgee county through the appointment of various local guardians.

McGugin, now a republican representative from Kansas, charged that the Pine machine was dominating in Okmulgee county and had attempted to keep the funds there for their personal advancement.

He Directed Traffic

McGugin demanded, at the same time, the resignation of Bert M. Parmeter, as assistant United States attorney general.  Pine had demanded the resignation of Indian Commissioner Burge who had approved various Barnett settlements.

As attorney fought and were disbarred, as cabinet officials grabbed, and were dismissed, as senators meddled and were investigated, Jackson stood on the parking of his palatial colonial home in Los Angeles and tended his duties as a volunteer traffic officer.

At one time Barnett attempted to donate $550,000 to Bacone and another $550,000 in trust funds to his wife at his death.   According to the agreement - admittedly drawn by Mrs. Lowe - Barnett was to have had an interest in both trust funds until his death.

Against that donation, however, there was also vigorous protest.  "Friends" of the aged Creek insisted that he had been prevailed upon to sign with his thumb mark a deed that he did not understand, and forced the matter into federal court to save the million dollar fortune.

Barnett's deed were set aside by Federal Judge John C. Knox of New York in 1927.  Judge Knox held that Jackson Barnett had been "kidnaped and married by an adventuress, and harassed and annoyed by his attorneys" until he had become a "shuttlecock in a game of battledore in which the stakes are high."

Suit Brought here

Bacone returned the $550,000.  Mrs. Lowe continued her fight for recognition until death overtook the chief.

Mrs. Barnett came to Muskogee three weeks ago to file a motion in federal court here to require the department of interior to pay the $2,500 monthly check through the office of the superintendent of the Five Civilized Tribes.  She was apparently dissatisfied with the handling of her accounts by the Mission Indian agency, but could find no suit here in which she could file and was forced to return to Los Angeles.

There it was that death, suddenly and unexpected, overtook "the chief" and carried him quietly back to the happy hunting ground that he had known in his pioneer shack near Henryetta.

To Jackson the white man's world had always been interesting, but queer, unexplainable, and a bit "off."

He sipped of that which he approved and ignored that which disturbed the tranquility of his child like mind.

His neighbors around Henryetta insisted that he was "daffy" but excused his incompetence on the grounds that he had been thrown from a horse as a youth.

Perhaps as Jackson fell dead in his palatial home in Los Angeles his mind reverted back to Henryetta, as his relatives insist that his body shall be returned there for burial.

His Spirit Strong

Mrs. Barnett refused to concede that "the chief" might be dead.  "His spirit is so strong" she insisted, "surely he will come back now."

But the chief was dead and over his corpse broke one of the strangest and most inhuman maelstroms yet witnessed in a civilized world.

As Barnett lay a corpse, his government denied him the right of burial.  Though he had lived in loneliness among his dogs and ponies in the Henryetta community, though he had known none of human companionship until wealth was his, his relatives and heirs besieged the Five Civilised tribes roll book prove their claim to his fortune.

They insisted that Mrs. Lowe, his companion for 13 years, should not be consulted in burial plans and registered vigorous protest to the present commissioner of Indian affairs who ordered that burial be postponed and that the body of Jackson Barnett - denied even the solace of peace in death - be held in escrow pending disposition of various legal details.

Even as to his return to Oklahoma, Barnett's "loving" relatives could not agree.  Some insisted that he should be returned to Henryetta for the final weird Indian rites, others were equally vehement that he should be laid to rest in the old Arbeka cemetery near Bryant.

The battle for the fortune of Jackson Barnett, observers say, has just begun. More than 20 nephews and nephews have put in their claims as kin of the dead millionaire, and as for Jackson... "The chief is dead; long live the chief."


Jackson's paternal nieces and nephews.
The heirs are included in one paternal family tree chart, based on the records of the Five Tribes agency here.  It runs something like this.

Siah Barnett died in 1897.  His first wife was Thlesothle, the mother of Jackson Barnett.

Mary Barnett, now dead, was Siah's second wife.  Children of this marriage are listed as Dave Barnett, half brother of Jackson and now dead; Maria West, died 1897; Hannah Fisher, died 1900 and Ellen McQueen.

Jimmy Barnett, one of the principal claimants of the Jackson Barnett estate, is the son of Dave. Jimmy claims to be the sole heir.  Pompey West and Benjamin Davis, both dead, are listed as children of Maria West.  Seaborn Fisher, William Fisher, Mariah Fisher and Lewis Fisher are listed as children of Hannah Fisher.  Charles Grayson, George Walker, and Joe Byrd or Joe Seaborn are listed as children of Ellen McQueen.

An 'Old Man' Conner

On the maternal side there was an "Old Man" Conner, whose wife is unknown.  Conner was known as "Irish Tuskegee Micco."  Children included Thlesothle or Betty, whose son was Jackson Barnett; Jenny and William Conner.  Jenny died without heirs. William Conner, a Seminole fullblood, died in 1900 and had a child by a first marriage named Wynie Conner, now Hendrix.  Another child of the older Conners was Lydia Conner, who died in 1922.  The last was Thomas Conner who died in 1901.  William Conner also has these three children: Rosanna , dead; Susie, Emma, Jennie, dead, and May or Hannah Conner.  Thomas Conner had these children: Thomas, Jr., dead; William, Nettie, and John.

By this genealogy it is noted that "Old Man" Conner had five children, one of whom was Thlesothle, Jackson's mother, and that heirs on the maternal side come through William Conner, who was married twice, and Thomas Conner.  No heirs through Jenny or Lydia Conner are shown.

On the paternal side, after Jackson's mother died, Siah Barnett married again and had four children, all of whom had heirs.  However, all heirs of Maria West are now dead.

The World’s Richest Indian: The Scandal over Jackson Barnett’s Oil Fortune. By
Tanis C. Thorne. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. xvi + 292 pp.
Photographs, appendix, bibliography, notes, index. Cloth, $35.00. ISBN: 0-195-
16233-1.
Reviewed by Ryan J. Carey
In recent years there has been an explosion of literature dealing with native
Americans and the market, touched off by Richard White’s seminal Roots of
Dependency. Tanis Thorne’s latest volume, entitled The World’s Richest Indian,
enters into this historiography by examining the life of Jackson Barnett, a Creek
Indian who, by the Dawes Act, happened to own an allotment of Indian land that
lay above the incredibly rich Cushing oil field in Oklahoma. By the end of his life,
Barnett was worth over three million dollars and held considerable real estate in Los
Angeles. Yet over the twenty-two years of his life when oil was actively pulled
from his ground, Barnett himself enjoyed little of the money he happened to be
worth. For Barnett was what the Indian bureau termed a “restricted” Indian—worth
too much money to participate in the marketplace on his own. Instead, Barnett lived
his life under the watchful eye of others—Oklahoma state guardians, Bureau of
Indian Affairs (BIA) agents, federal judges who adjudicated his fortune, lawyers
who fought for and defended the incredible wealth, and his wife, who was no less
interested in his fortune (she married Barnett by abducting him on the first night
they met). Barnett’s story proves to be one of the strangest and most complicated
personal histories available to us as historians. Though exceptional in its particulars,
Thorne tells us, the story of Jackson Barnett is emblematic of the complicated
history of Indians, Indian resources, the state, and the market. Thorne’s telling
provides historians with an excellent case for understanding the material
consequences of America’s cultural and legal construction of Indians in the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Barnett’s story really begins with his allotment, a piece of Creek land deeded him
by the 1887 Dawes Allotment Act, pushed through Congress by Henry Dawes.
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Dawes was an Indian Bureau reformer who felt that the reservation system had
failed the Indians and that cooperatively held reservation land stood in the way of
Indians’ ability to Americanize—to assimilate into American society. Privately held
land, Dawes reckoned, would force the Indians into the market, that great
Americanizing force. Dawes wanted Indians to become farmers who would interact
with the market in the same way that individual white families did. Private
corporations, white farmers and ranchers, as well as land speculators also favored
the Dawes Act, because it helped bring vast tracts of reservation land into the
market (all the land not allotted to Indian households was sold). Not surprisingly,
the experiment failed, as the vast majority of Indian allotments also found their way
into the hands of unscrupulous whites by the first decade of the twentieth century.
In response to the failures of the Dawes Act, the Bureau of Indian Affairs
determined to limit the rights of Indian landowners.
Barnett received his allotment in 1903, and for the first ten years that he owned it,
he was a penniless drifter. Instead of settling on the land, Barnett remained a wage
laborer while the title for the land lay in an envelope shoved in the roof of a
relative’s cabin. Not long after oil was discovered, however, both the federal
government and the Oklahoma state government took steps to bring Barnett, or at
least the wealth from his oil rights, under their respective jurisdictions. The federal
government labeled Jackson Barnett a restricted Indian, a full-blooded Creek who
by nature of his racial makeup, the Bureau of Indian Affairs warned, was
biologically incapable of acting in his own interest when it came to matters of
property. Unlike someone declared incompetent, restricted Indians were still
entitled to make some decisions for themselves, and with education from an Indian
agent, so the theory went, would eventually be able to enter fully into society.
Barnett’s legal status was somewhere between competent and incompetent. Just as
Indian nations were treated as “domestic dependent” nations, Barnett was
considered competent, if just racially handicapped.
If this policy seems needlessly complicated and confusing, it is. But it is not
nearly as complicated as the legal quagmire that engulfed Barnett for the remaining
twenty-two years of his life, from the moment his land began producing oil in 1912
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until his death in 1934, when Barnett’s estate was earning from $15,000 to $40,000
a month in oil royalties. At first, the number of parties interested in Barnett’s wealth
was relatively small. Using the failures of allotment as justification, Oklahoma had
instituted a corrupt guardianship program to skim wealth off of unsuspecting
Indians like Barnett. In paternalistic response, the federal government assigned
individual Indian agents to wealthy Indians like Barnett in order to save their wealth
from greedy state agents. During this time, Barnett simply received a small monthly
check that kept him quite comfortable by his previous standards, while Oklahoma
agents received four times that amount each month for their role as “guardians.”
Embarrassed by the fleecing of one of their charges, the BIA used the courts to
eliminate the Oklahoma guardians.
The story becomes hopelessly complicated when Anna Randolph Lowe, an
unmarried single mother, learned of Barnett’s fortune, abducted him, and married
him. If the BIA was embarrassed that the state of Oklahoma could take advantage
of Barnett, they were mortified that a working-class single mother could do the
same. Jackson and Anna lived together until his death, and Anna remained in
apparent control of Jackson’s wealth. She decided where they lived, what they
bought, and how they looked. Numerous court cases followed as the federal
government tried to nullify Anna’s marriage to Jackson, seeing her as a “predatory
woman,” or, in the words of one official, an “adventuress of the most dangerous
type.”
From this predicament, Barnett’s fortune became tangled in suits, countersuits,
mortgages, loans, and property liens. Most complicated was the way in which
different officials and arms of the federal bureaucracy worked against each other as
the Justice Department, the BIA, and Congress jockeyed for position in what
became an enormous public relations fiasco. Simply keeping track of who was
suing whom, when, and what for was nearly impossible.
A book review cannot do justice to the legal intricacies, much less the simple
details, of this story. Fortunately for readers, The World’s Richest Indian has
valuable appendices, a time line, and a well-organized index. Suffice it to say that
the legal construction of Jackson Barnett as “restricted” contained innumerable
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contradictions. Thorne’s argument that the federal government wanted Indians to
modernize in theory but kept them in a state of legal dependency in practice is
exemplified well by Barnett. As is the fact that, in denying Barnett his wealth, the
federal government perpetrated legalized robbery.
Of interest to business historians are the various legal means the federal
government used to gain control over Barnett’s wealth and allotment oil rights, and
by extension, the market itself. In an era when the federal government was working
to increase its ability to administer the nation’s resources and use its bureaucracy to
gain some modicum of control over the market (which had run amok in the 1890s),
Barnett’s story makes perfect sense. Given the considerable amount of mineral
resources on Indian land, the BIA became yet another one of many land-
management bureaucracies created in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth
centuries. In this sense, the BIA was yet another mechanism that the federal
government used in its attempts to, as James Scott argues, “see like a state.” Barnett
is emblematic not just of how the state worked to regulate Indians but of how it
worked to regulate resources as well.
Overall, Thorne’s biography is a fascinating story, wonderfully told. The only
thing missing from the tale is Jackson Barnett himself. Illiterate, he left no writings.
Although in his many court cases he left pages of testimony, Barnett as a person
remains hidden from the reader, obscured by legal disputes and the corrupt
manipulations of those in search of his fortune. Although Thorne tries to paint
Jackson and Anna’s marriage in sympathetic terms, even this relationship serves to
obscure Jackson Barnett. We can never really understand which actions were his
and which were compelled by Anna. Assessments of his character, of which there
were many, were so tainted by what their authors had to gain, Anna included, that
accepting even the most elemental of their descriptions would be folly. He was
rumored to be incompetent, slow, or even retarded, claims that Thorne argues
against. But she is unable to provide us with an alternative. Peeling back the myriad
layers of social construction that have obscured this man and his life leaves us
understanding more about the people who sought his fortune and resources than
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about the man himself. Ultimately, the character of Jackson Barnett remains beyond
our grasp.
Ryan J. Carey received his Ph.D. at the University of Texas and is currently
assistant professor of history at Simon’s Rock College of Bard. His research
interests are the nineteenth-century American West, environmental history, and
business history. His dissertation, entitled “Building a Better Oregon: Geographic
Information and the Production of Space, 1846–1906,” analyzes the role
perceptions of nature played in the rise and criticism of nineteenth-century
transportation monopolies.