My Maternal Great Grandmother’s 2nd (or 3rd) Husband Lew N Boon
52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks
Week 37 – September 10, 2025
Prompt: In the News
When my maternal great-grandmother Lucinda’s husband, Joseph Coon, died in 1907, he left her some property in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I went to the county courthouse to find out what happened to the property. I found that Lucinda and Lew Boone had mortgaged the property and then sold it. I wondered if this was the Lew Boone buried near Lucinda in Oaklawn Cemetery with a baby Boone.
I discovered that Lucinda and Lew N. Boone were married in Neosho, Missouri in February 1909.
What happened a few months later was revealed in the newspaper. I found several accounts. This one made the front-page headline in The Tulsa Tribune, May 15, 1909.
Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Newblock in a horse-drawn buggy, c. 1906. Sheriff Newblock later took charge of the crime scene after Lew Boone’s shooting. While not related to the event, this buggy would have been similar to the one Oliver Davis and his wife were sitting in as they watched the horse race near Oaklawn Cemetery. (Courtesy of Museum of Tulsa History)
WHAT THE INQUEST DEVELOPED
Hot Blood of the Young Indian Led to the Tragedy Yesterday.
DAVIS SHOT VICTIM WITHOUT WARNING
Resented Alleged Cursing of His Wife By Horse Trader Lew Boone—Preliminary Hearing before Judge Slack Monday Morning—Three Witnesses Examined Who Told Similar Stories—Boone Had Been Drinking Heavily.
The preliminary trial of Oliver Davis the young Indian who yesterday afternoon shot and instantly killed Lew Boone, a horse trader, near Oaklawn cemetery east of town, was not held this morning as was expected. The arraignment has been postponed until Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock. No witnesses have been summoned and none of the attorneys have prepared to enter a plea. If he pleads guilty to having fired the fatal shot it is up to Judge Slack, justice of the peace, to decide whether he shall be released on bond or held without bail for the grand jury.
A short time after the killing took place yesterday an inquest was held in the undertaking parlors of G. W. Mowbray at Second and Cincinnati, Judge Slack acting as coroner. The news of the killing spread like wild fire and a crowd was soon gathered at the place where the inquest was held. The verdict of the coroner’s jury was that Lew Boone had come to his death by a bullet fired from a pistol in the hands of Oliver Davis. The jury was composed of the following men: W. F. Purdy, B. C. Otmier, G. A. Lewis, Ed Richett, Silas Thurman and D. R. DeHaven.
Only three witnesses were examined by the coroner’s jury. These were H. A. Stout, A. H. Orcutt and H. C. Morrow, all eye witnesses to the shooting. Stout’s story was as follows: “A horse race was being pulled off in the road near the cemetery. Davis and his wife drove up in a buggy and watched the race. There was a dispute at the conclusion of the race and it was run over again. Boone was cursing about the result of the race. He was drinking and very abusive. He made remarks to curse Davis’ wife, but Davis and his wife drove away and in a few minutes returned. Davis walked up to the buggy in front of Boone and said him, ‘Are you going to take back what you said about my wife?’ He did not wait but drew his revolver immediately and fired one shot. Boone staggered a moment and then fell in the road. Davis then drove up the road. When a short distance away he turned around and fired again. He again drove on and again fired another shot from his revolver. There seemed to be a scuffle in the buggy. Mrs. Davis was trying to hold her husband’s arm.”
Orcutt told a similar story to that related by Stout. He spoke of the fuss over the horse race and of Boone’s condition. “I asked him to keep quiet himself when he was talking to me over the bar in the joint. He cursed Mrs. Davis. When Davis drove up and asked Boone to retract his statements, Boone took a step back, put his hand in his pocket and took another step back. He did not say a word. Davis then drew his pistol and shot Boone.” Orcutt testified that he only heard two shots fired.
The third witness, Mr. Morrow, was rather contrary on the witness stand. He refused to answer questions put to him by one of the jurors and only did so after being ordered to by Judge Slack. His story was like that of the other witnesses in part but he contradicted himself several times in giving distance.
The bullet fired from Davis’ revolver entered Boone’s upper lip and ploughed its way through his brain causing instant death. Davis immediately drove to town and gave himself up to Sergeant Henry Price at the police station, telling him he had shot Boone. Davis did not know at first that Boone had been killed.
Sheriff Newblock, Chief Thompson, Assistant Chief Hall, Coroner Slack and others went to the scene of the killing and took charge of the body. When killed Boone had in his pockets $54.37 in money, eight 38-caliber cartridges, a long bladed pocket knife and other trinkets.
Davis was last night turned over to the county authorities. Boone is survived by a widow and three children. The family is in very hard circumstances and live at present in a tent near the cemetery. Davis, who is just nineteen years old, is the husband of one of Clarissa Bell’s daughters.
Closing Reflection
This story in the Tulsa Tribune not only captures a sensational moment in the city’s early history, but also brings to light the personal tragedy that touched my great-grandmother’s life. Just months after marrying Lew Boone, Lucinda found herself widowed once again. The vivid details of the inquest—horse races on dusty roads, tents near the cemetery, neighbors serving as witnesses—paint a picture of Tulsa in its raw beginnings, a place where tempers and hardship often collided.
One of the names that appears in the article is Sheriff H. F. Newblock, who helped take charge of the crime scene. His name lived on in Tulsa history as mayor and through Newblock Park, which was once the site of the city’s old water filtration plant. Years later, I swam there as a child, never realizing the connection. In fact, I believe it was at the Newblock Park pool where my Aunt Sue — the same aunt I wrote about in last week’s post — tried to teach me to swim. I wasn’t a very good student, but the memory makes the connection between these stories all the more meaningful. Today, the same location houses Waterworks Art Studio, where I’ve taken fabric-dyeing classes. A place that once represented tragedy in my great-grandmother’s life has, for me, been a place of creativity, memory, and joy.
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