I was in Oklahoma to visit the headquarters of Laredo Petroleum, one of the leaders in the development of domestic shale gas and oil. I was also here to visit some of their field operations. I’ll have more to say about that later.
The reason why I’m going to wait is that along the way, I discovered something I did not know: southeastern Oklahoma was once a center of Italian settlement. Now, mass immigration this was not. In 1910, the census recorded 2,564 Italians in Oklahoma, with a further 1,303 native-born Italians. That’s a tiny part of a state of 1.6 million. Even in Coal, Latimer, and Pittsburg counties, Italians made up only 3% of the population in 1910. But they left a mark.
Why did they come? Well, the aforementioned names of the counties where they settled gives a clue. The first coal mines in Oklahoma opened in McAlester in 1872. In 1875, the mining companies built a labor camp in nearby Krebs. The companies recruited Italian workers in a deliberate attempt to prevent unionization — American coal miners had already become radicalized. In the words of a 1956 article: “Mine operators found the English, Irish, Scotch, and Welsh stock produced the best miners but also produced the chief trouble makers during periods of strikes in the 1880s and 1890s.”
It isn’t entirely clear why the mining companies had to worry. The mines were located deep in the Choctaw Nation. Before statehood, non-Choctaw residents of the area had to pay a residence fee of 25¢ per month (about $77.20 per year in today’s money). The mining companies deducted the fee directly from workers’ pay packets, and arranged with the Choctaws to make it impossible to pay any other way. Upshot: striking workers faced deportation.
Anyway, Italians they recruited, and Italians they came. The first “Columbus Society” in Oklahoma started in 1881.* Unlike most Italian immigrants to the United States, the Oklahoman Italians came from the north: three-quarters of them arrived from Piedmont, with the remainder from Abruzzo and Molise.** The coal mines, then as now, provided grueling employment for $545 per year ... a less-than-royal $12,700 in inflation-adjusted dollars.*** (Then again, the median household income in the tri-county area is only $17,500 today.) Mining conditions, of course, were much worse than the salaries would indicate. Things improved a little with statehood in 1907, when the new constitution provided for workers’ compensation, an eight-hour day, free public schools, and a ban on child labor in the mines.
Nowadays Krebs is dotted with Italian restaurants. But they don’t really serve Italian food, and I’m speaking as somebody who grew up in the land of the calzone and baked ziti. Consider the founding of the oldest of Krebs’ eateries: the famous Pete’s. Pete Pritchard — so named because none of the local kids could pronounce “Piegare” — who moved to the U.S. at the age of 8, in 1903. He attended school only sporadically, since his father had him work in the mines when they needed money, in contravention of the new state constitution. Pritchard broke his leg in 1923, while working in the mines. His wife and he had a small flock of chickens. They couldn’t sell them for any reasonable amount, and they couldn’t keep ‘em, so they served ‘em up to their friends ... and Pete’s was born.
The place became famous during Prohibition for serving home-brewed Choc beer; Pete himself got busted. Choc beer got its start with the European influx, which cheerily ignored the dry laws passed by the Choctaw Nation. An 1894 report written by an irritated Bureau of Indian Affairs official noted: “The sale of Choctaw beer, a drink compounded of barley, hops,tobacco, fishberries, and a small amount of alcohol, is manufactured without stint in many portions of this agency, especially in the mining communities. Many miners insist it is essential to their health, owing to the bad water usually found in mining camps, and they aver they use it rather as a tonic or medicine than as a beverage, and this idea, that it is a proper tonic, is fostered and encouraged by some physicians. But it is somewhat remarkable as a fact in the scientific world that the water is always bad in the immediate mining centers, but good in the adjacent neighborhoods.”
Eventually, coal mining declined. Many of the Italians left. The rest didn’t fully assimilate until World War 2: when the U.S. went to war, the first reaction of the local police was to raid Italian families and seize their weapons. Some people remained working in a giant socialist enterprise. By 2000, the population was down by a third from 1920. (A new hydrocarbon boom has begun, but more on that later.)
We didn’t eat at Pete’s. We ate at Isle of Capri. The restaurants are all basically converted houses, with big and scattered dining rooms bolted on as the customer base grew. It feels a bit like you’re snacking in somebody’s living room. So does the resolute unprofessionalism of the waiters, who were clearly family members, and strange way you pay, by wandering up to the front and asking for the bill, instead of having it brought to your table. (Sure, you pay on the way out at lots of places around the United States, like that diner out in Maspeth. I just don’t remember having to go to the counter to get your bill.) You can get lamb fries (don’t ask, you don’t want to know), ravioli, spaghetti, something called manicotti (I’m still not sure what it was) and sausage sandwiches the size of your head. Given how the restaurants in the area started (Pete was not unrepresentative) it shouldn’t be that surprising that the food bears little resemblance to the American cuisine you’ll find in other heavily-Italian parts of North America, let alone a real genuine Italian restaurant.
I ate a lot. Compare the fellow above with same fellow a few hours earlier, as pictured at the beginning of this post. As Italian food, it was awful. As food, it was awesome. If you’re in the area, I highly recommend it.
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