Museum highlights service, sacrifice of U.S. Marshals

The entrance to the U.S. Marshals Museum in Fort Smith, Ark.

If you’ve crossed the Arkansas River bridge from Oklahoma onto Garrison Ave. in Fort Smith, Ark., in the past decade, you may have noticed the unique, star-shaped building on the east side of the river bank about a half-mile north of the bridge.

The low-slung building is the U.S. Marshals Museum, which opened in July 2023 after 16 years of planning and fund-raising.

I’ve kept my eye on the Marshals Museum because I’m a Fort Smith native whose 92-year old mother still resides in the historic river city. So, I’m crossing that river bridge several times a year, and alway look to the north to check out the building.

But I had never toured the museum until this past weekend when my mom, Jean Stafford, and I spent about an hour-and-a-half working our way through the museum’s many historical exhibits, she in a wheelchair and me pushing her past the displays.

It was well worth the effort and the $13 entry it cost us as senior citizens to tour the museum. I want to share what I found most interesting, but first a little background on the 53,000 square foot museum that cost about $48 million — all from private donations — to create.

Fort Smith was selected as site for the museum in 2007 after a competitive site selection process among several hopeful locations. The museum shares the stories of the U.S. Marshals Service across its 240-year history, featuring interactive displays, photographs, videos and artifacts.

From my perspective, Fort Smith is the perfect location for the museum because of the city’s frontier history dating back to the early 1800s. It served as the HQ for many US Marshals and deputy marshals who attempted to keep the peace and track down outlaws in the Oklahoma Territory to the west.

Fort Smith also is where notorious ‘Hanging Judge’ Isaac Parker dispensed frontier justice to many outlaws brought in from the Territory. You should also visit the nearby National Historic Site that Judge Parker’s courthouse and gallows still occupy.

In fiction, Fort Smith was the starting point for True Grit and Deputy Marshal Rooster Cogburn in book and film, as well as the location where the epic Lonesome Dove saga began with a killing on Garrison Ave.

While the museum location was announced in 2007, it took far longer to build and open than anticipated because of fund-raising issues that held back its construction.

Along the way, Fort Smith city leaders made an attempt to provide funding that would ensure its completion through a temporary, 1-cent sales tax. Skeptical Fort Smith residents soundly defeated the proposal in a 2019 special election.

In fact, Fort Smith attorney Joey McCutchen declared that the Marshals Museum would be one of several ‘white elephants’ he said the city has undertaken. Check out this 2019 article from the online news site, Talk Business and Politics, that outlines the controversy over the museum and proposed sales tax. 

However, the money was finally raised through donations, the building completed and museum opened. Attendance has not met original projections, but I would say that the lingering effects of COVID played a role in that.

Today, the Marshals Museum offers an impressive collection and display providing historical education that shows how the Marshals live up to their motto of “Justice, Integrity, and Service.” The museum also serves as a community gathering spot for conferences, networking events, wedding receptions and more.

So, what stood out to me as I worked my way through the museum with my mom?

Jean Stafford looks at the display of the Oklaoma City bombing at the U.S. Marshals Museum

Well, I was especially taken by one wall that described the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing of the federal building and its aftermath. The local U.S. Marshals Service office was located in the adjacent federal courthouse, and marshals provided rescue coordination and then security oversight for the trials of Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols.

My only objection to that exhibit is the decision to showcase the front page of the Dallas Morning News from the day after the bombing. I was working at The Daily Oklahoman at the time, and our staff was fully involved in the coverage, which was reflected in spectacular front page photos and stories the day after and in the following months.

Beyond the OKC bombing, there was much more to learn about the U.S. Marshals Service from the museum visit. I found out that the Marshals Service was launched by President George Washington, and for at least a few decades it was the U.S. Marshals who conducted the U.S. Census.

There were displays that outlined the Marshals’ role in providing justice throughout the Oklahoma territory, along with stories that told of shootouts that resulted in the deaths of outlaws — and Marshals — along the way.

Most impressive was a room designed as an Old West saloon in which a virtual barkeep on a screen tells stories about U.S. Marshals in action during the frontier period. You can even learn more by interacting with a nearby computerized poker table. Then you can watch and listen to robotic ‘marshals’ from different generation talking around a virtual campfire.

A virtual campfire is surrounded by U.S. Marshals from different generations of the Marshals Service.

There is room after room that carries you from the beginning of the US Marshals Service to modern day, along with displays and artifacts from incidents like Ruby Ridge and Wounded Knee, the Freedom Riders, Oxford, Miss., Selma and much more. There is even a video from a Marshal’s body cam of officers capturing a fugitive in Fort Smith.

As a sort of bonus, U.S. Marshals in movies and TV are showcased, as well as the actual badge worn by Marshal Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke.

Finally, we found our way back to the reception area, which features a large atrium-like space that is used for community and educational events. We also toured a special temporary exhibit that showcased the U.S. Marshals role in the aftermath of 9/11 attacks on NYC in 2001.

Mom told the receptionist as we were leaving that she was surprised by the depth of information that the museum provided and how much more it offered than she anticipated.

Me, too.

I didn’t realize that the history of the US Marshals Service spans most of our nation’s 250 years, or that more than 300 Marshals have lost their lives in service to our nation.

It’s a sobering, eye-opening educational exhibit that I would hope everyone would want to experience.

I’m so glad my mom and I toured the museum at long last. I shouldn’t have been such a stranger.

BONUS CONTENT: The following is perspective from my friend Ed Godfrey, who toured the U.S. Marshals Museum months before I paid a visit. Thank you, Ed, for sharing your thoughts with blogOKC.
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By Ed Godfrey

I really liked the U.S. Marshals museum, especially the Old West exhibits and history, but all the displays from each era were visually interesting and informative. The wall of plaques listing the names of marshals who were killed in the line of duty also was impressive. So many who were killed were identified not as deputy marshals but simply “posse.” I have recommended the museum to friends and would go again. My one criticism is the use of the huge front page display of The Dallas Morning News from the morning after the Oklahoma City bombing. Why wouldn’t you use the front page from the city where the tragedy happened, especially when OKC is just down the road from Fort Smith? The Oklahoman’s front page was even better that day, in my opinion, than the Morning News. As a member of The Oklahoman’s staff at the time, I found it a little insulting. Perhaps the museum couldn’t get permission from The Oklahoman to use its front page, but unless there is a legal reason, it seems like an odd choice to me.

Statue outside the U.S. Marshals Museum depicts Bass Reeves, the first black U.S. Marshal to serve out of Fort Smith

Fellow Census takers weigh in with their perspective

I recently posted an item on this blog about my short career as a Census Bureau enumerator, and the challenges that I encountered from neighbors unwilling to participate in the Census.

You can read the post here.

After the blog post was published, I heard from a couple of my fellow Census takers who added their own perspective to the discussion. I decided to post them here.

First up is Cyrus, who described it as the “most fun” job he’s ever had.  Obviously, Cyrus handles rejection better than I do. Read what he had to say below.

Then my friend and neighbor Rebekah weighed in with her thoughts on the good and the bad of knocking on doors for the Census count. I’m sharing her thoughts on what she liked about the job. Here is some of what she had to say:

“…parts I liked: meeting people from all walks of life, learning that assumptions and appearances differed so much from reality. Time again, I would be out at an old broken trailer and meet intelligent, grateful and interesting people and I would approach a beautiful home in an affluent area and be met with a misanthropic hostility and ignorance that astounded me. I had to remind myself of my intentions when things got tough and whoop in silence as you walked away from the grumpy man who I just convinced to participate. Quite an adventure but brutal.”

Thank you, Rebekah and Cyrus, for your resilience to stay with the Census Bureau job.  And for finding the positive in the experience.

When the next Census arrives in 2030, I hope whoever is out knocking on doors discovers a more receptive population that is willing to stand up and be counted.

Confessions of a former U.S. Census taker

First-day-on-the-job pic taken by Paula Stafford as I hit the streets

My friend Ed told me that I should write about my experience as a Census Enumerator, even though I quit the job after just two weeks in the field. This is my story.

In the beginning, I signed up to be a Census taker after seeing an ad posted in late January about the need for workers. The actual Census date was April 1, but the COVID-19 pandemic caused everything to be delayed until mid-summer.

The Census is an important component of our federal system because accurate population assessment helps determine federal dollars that are returned to the community, as well as the number of Congressional representatives a state is awarded.

I was part of a small group that trained together for the position in Arcadia in early July, and we hit the streets on Thursday, July 16.

With my official Census Bureau brief case and new clothes purchased for the occasion, I felt like a kid heading off for the first day of school.

In fact, my wife took first day photos before I climbed into the car.

I’m not positive, but it may have been one of the hottest weeks of the century. I’m 67 years old and haven’t been to the gym lately, so the heat took a pretty big toll on my enthusiasm that first week.

But it wasn’t the heat, it was the unwelcoming reception from people that spoiled the job for me.   Too busy. Too angry at the government. Too suspicious of a stranger knocking on their door. 

Although my territory included my Northwest OKC neighborhood and surrounding territory, knocking on doors of people who wanted nothing to do with me or the Census was incredibly discouraging.

Of course, showing up unannounced on someone’s porch while wearing a mask because of the pandemic did not create the most congenial of environments.

I would knock on 30 to 40 doors in an afternoon and be “welcomed” by maybe three people who actually cooperated in the process with enthusiasm.

Sometimes, as soon as the resident opened the front door after I knocked, they would see me and my clipboard and close the door before I could say “I’m from the Census Bureau.”

I blame the incredible number of roofing contractor reps circulating in the area over the past year for ruining it for the rest of us.

Other residents told me they wanted nothing to do with the Census or objected to the mostly demographic-type questions. One guy quit in a huff mid-interview because I asked for names and birth dates of everyone in his household.

A common theme I heard was “we already filled out the Census, so why are you here?”  

Anyway, after the first week my wife asked me to quit, because she was concerned over the effects of working in the heat and the dangers that COVID presented someone my age.

I told her I was committed for eight weeks.

But midway through the second week, I decided that this would be my last.

The thought of knocking on a stranger’s door and being greeted with either suspicion or anger was not what I signed up for. Or maybe it was.

In fact, on my last day a woman told me she did not want to participate and to get off her porch. As she was shutting the door, I told her that I was required to leave a formal notice of visit on her door.

Before I could fill out the information sheet a man came out and told me not to leave anything on their property. I thanked him and quickly walked to my car.

So, the next day I called Paul, my incredibly kind and understanding supervisor, and told him I was hanging it up. He accepted my decision without shaming me.

One of my neighbors, Rebekah, also is a Census Enumerator and still knocking on doors as I write this.

I am in awe of her tenacity for withstanding both the summer heat and the withering resentment and suspicion from her fellow Americans who refuse to stand up and be counted.

Well done, Rebekah and to all of your fellow Census workers still on the job.

Stepping out of my comfort zone

Tools of the trade for 2020 Census enumerator

For years I’ve heard that a person doesn’t really experience life until they step out of their comfort zone. Well, I’m about to take a giant step (for me) out of the box.

I’m hitting the streets later this week as an enumerator for the U.S. Census Bureau.

For the next eight weeks, myself and a host of other enumerators in the OKC area will attempt to collect information from residents all across the metro who haven’t responded to the 2020 Census count. Enumerator is the word that describes a person who is employed to take a census of the population.

As a retired newspaper guy, I’m pretty busy in my own little freelance writing business. But there are periods of slack time, naturally.

So, when I saw a notice back in February advertising for Census 2020 enumerators, I signed up — and was accepted.

Then the pandemic hit and the local Census Bureau office shut down. I heard nothing for months until one day in May I got a call asking if I was still interested in the job. I said “yes,” so I went in to be fingerprinted and submit to a background check.

About a month later, I got another call asking if I was still interested. Yes, I responded. So, I was assigned to a team for training purposes, which met for in-person orientation in early July.

We took the oath of office, which made us official federal employees.

After about 11 hours of online training that dealt with everything from the history of the Census to various scenarios we might encounter in the field, I passed a final exam on Sunday.

We’re hitting the streets on Thursday of this week, I am told. I’m adding a big-brimmed straw hat to my wardrobe for the hot summer days and taking a cooler of bottled water on the road with me.

So, if you see me walking up to your front door carrying a U.S. Census brief case and a clipboard, be gentle. Just know that the answers you give will help our local community access its share of federal funding and Congressional representation.

And remember, I’ve definitely stepped out of my comfort zone.