40 Rich Man, Poor Man: The Story of William Scott

William Scott, My maternal step-great grandfather

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 40 – October 1, 2025

Prompt: Cemetery

This week’s prompt, Cemetery, led me back to Oaklawn Cemetery in Tulsa, where my great-grandmother Lucinda Crull Coon Boone Scott rests. I’ve walked through these records many times, but only recently realized how many chapters of her life converge here—three husbands and two children, connections that span decades of Tulsa’s early history. It’s fitting that her final husband, William Scott, purchased the first lot in Oaklawn. Nearby lies her first husband, Josiah Coon, and second husband, Lew Boone, a horse trader whose life curiously mirrored William’s. Both William Scott and Lew Boone made their living around horses—and both now rest within sight of one another.

When I came across the obituary of William Scott, I was immediately struck by the headline: “Centenarian Dies, Riches to Rags Tale.” It could have been lifted straight from a storybook—or from the nursery rhyme that inspired my blog’s title, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. The next line of that rhyme is “Rich man, poor man,” and it fits William perfectly.

His was a life that stretched from privilege to poverty, from race tracks to bottle collecting, and from early Tulsa’s rough-and-tumble days to the quiet stillness of Oaklawn Cemetery, where his story came to rest beside Lucinda.

The Rich Man

According to his obituary in the Tulsa Daily World (November 12, 1935), William Scott was born in Scotland on Christmas Day, 1832. He came to the United States as a boy and eventually found his way to the young city of Tulsa, where he became known as a wealthy horseman and one of the area’s early pioneers.

He owned and operated Tulsa’s first race track near West Second Street—a place lively enough to draw both excitement and suspicion. At one point, it was placed under martial law for illegal gambling.

Guarding the entrance to Tulsa Race Track with bayonets when it was under martial law due to illegal gambling. 

Early Tulsa harness racing, reminiscent of the days when William Scott was known as a “wealthy horseman.”

For a time, William lived well—raising fine horses, managing the track, and earning a reputation as one of Tulsa’s colorful figures. But as the city grew, fortunes changed, and so did his.

The Poor Man

The obituary paints a vivid picture of William’s later years: a once-prosperous man reduced to selling bottles to make a living. He collected discarded glass for the Kerr Glass Company in nearby Sand Springs and lived “in a humble dwelling at Joe Station" with his wife, Lucinda.

Even in his nineties, William remained active. He was reportedly still walking the streets and talking to friends about the old days up until three months before his death. At 103 years old, he became the oldest patient ever treated in a Tulsa hospital.

And yet, despite the losses and hardships, there’s something quietly triumphant about his story. He lived through eras most only read about—horse-drawn wagons to motorcars, frontier trails to paved streets—and left behind more than a line in a newspaper.

Lucinda and the First Lot

In 1912, at the age of eighty, William Scott married my great-grandmother Lucinda Crull Coon Boone. She was twice widowed and resilient—a woman who had known both hardship and heartache. Their marriage, though late in life, seems to have been one of companionship and endurance.

According the obituary, William Scott purchased the first lot ever sold in the newly established cemetery in 1907. Today, that lot—Section 17, Block 516, Southwest Quarter—tells the story of the men who shaped Lucinda’s life.

In grave 1 lie William and Lucinda together.

In grave 2 rests her infant son, Baby Boone, her youngest son

In grave 3 lies Frank Coon, her oldest son 

And in grave 4, Josiah “aka Joe Moore” Coon, Lucinda’s first husband and the man long believed to be my grandmother’s father.

Not far away lies her second husband, Lew Boone, the horse trader whose path echoed William's own, 

All of them—husbands and children, connections from every chapter of her life—share the same small piece of ground that William purchased so many years ago.

Obituary of William Scott, Tulsa Daily World, November 12, 1935.

Centenarian Dies, Riches to Rags Tale

William Scott, Wealthy Once, Sold Junk for Living Lately

William Scott, native of Scotland, pioneer resident of Tulsa, during whose century of life fortune and wealth were his only to be snatched away in declining years, died today in a Tulsa hospital little more than a month short of the age of 103.

Active until only three months ago, the weight of years finally overcame the rugged endurance of Scott, who until that time had earned a living for himself and his widow, Mrs. Lucindia Scott. He was admitted to a Tulsa hospital for treatment for complications of age, the oldest patient ever to receive the institution’s ministrations. Physicians administered artificial nourishment, but attempts to prolong his life failed.

Born on Christmas day, 1832, Scott came to the United States at the age of eight years. His family settled in the east, where he spent his youth and early manhood. According to Mrs. Leonard Nolen of Sand Springs, granddaughter of Mrs. Scott, Scott had come to Tulsa in the early part of the twentieth century and was at that time wealthy.

Interested in horses and racing, he owned considerable livestock and had an interest in Tulsa’s first race track, located near West Second street. In 1912, he married Mrs. Lucindia Moore here. Before that time he had never been married, Mrs. Nolen said.

His wealth melted away during the past 20 years and for the past several years, Scott made a living for himself and wife by collecting glass and bottles, which he sold to the Kerr Glass Co. of Sand Springs. He maintained a humble dwelling at Joe Station. Besides Mrs. Scott, the only known relatives are four step-grandchildren.

Funeral rites will be held at Moore’s Funeral Home at 2 p.m. Wednesday. Burial will be in Scott’s lot in Oaklawn Cemetery, which he bought in 1907, the first lot sold in the then new cemetery.

Closing Reflection

The nursery rhyme says, “Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief…” But in family history, those lines blend together. William Scott was both rich and poor, both bold and humble, both remembered and nearly forgotten.

In the quiet of Oaklawn Cemetery, stories overlap like the rings of a tree—each layer telling of hardship, endurance, and the unpredictable turns of life on the frontier. The man who bought the first lot couldn’t have known that one day, it would hold so many people his wife had loved.

Lucinda Crull Coon Boone Scott, in her later years — a woman who outlived three husbands and rests today in Oaklawn Cemetery, Tulsa.