In the spring of 2016, my friend Morgan, who serves as an editor at Tulsa People, put out a call for music writers. Seeing an opportunity to get back into writing about things not involving Cherokee Nation, I reached out to her.
My first freelance assignment had nothing to do with music. Instead it was about Tulsans in their 80s and 90s who still work. It was an assignment that excited me because I love Tulsa and its history. I thought the story would give me a rare opportunity to talk to those who have witnessed all the changes going back nearly a century.
My interviews were going to be with a funeral director, a salesman, a CEO of a title company and Mike Samara, a longtime restaurant owner of the Celebrity Restaurant (formerly known as the Celebrity Club).
It worked out where Samara was my first interview. I was slated to talk to him following the lunch rush at his restaurant.
I knew he was a Tulsa legend. His restaurant had served meals to Bob Hope, Ben Stiller and other Hollywood celebs as well as politicians and astronauts. He had been friends with legendary baseball player Mickey Mantle and had even worked for him, running his hotel in Joplin. Celebrity Restaurant is arguably best known for its fried chicken and chicken caesar salad.
In the 80s, Samara helped create the legislation that made liquor by the drink available at restaurants across the state. He had the opportunity to serve the first drink when the law changed.
At the time he was 92 years old. Blind. Colon cancer survivor. Recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s, yet there he was smiling as big as he could. He was happy to be alive and working. Despite being blind, he continued to seat people and chat with them. The floor layout never changed to accompany him as he worked with a disability.
I sat with him for over an hour. It could have lasted five more. I had to cut it off to go to the next interview. He invited me to come back and talk some more, yet I never did.
To this day when I drive past the restaurant, I think back to what he said about the time he bought it in the early 60s. At that time, 31st and Yale was basically the country. Let that sink in.
It’s wild to me that there used to be drag races occurring on the road in front of his establishment.
He was told that if he held on to the spot long enough he’d be in the middle of town. Today, it’s almost more north than central.
My article tells more of his story.
Samara passed away on Nov. 1 at 94 years old.
Our brief time together will always stick with me. He was warm, welcoming and funny. I don’t think he knew I was slightly nervous before we started talking, but as soon as we shook hands, I instantly felt at ease. He made me laugh a lot. If there was a video recording of our conversation, I would have been shown smiling throughout our time together.
He cared deeply about his community and his family. He handed over the operation of his restaurant to his daughter, Paula, some years ago. She sat in on the interview to assist. They both caught me up on the global adventures of her son, who I attended college with at OSU. He then shared more stories about his family.
Tulsa lost a great businessman and more importantly a great man.
It was honor to be able to share his story and it meant the world to me to have the chance to get to know him in that short time.
We need more Mike Samaras in the world.
While Samara lived a full, happy life, last week another person I recently wrote about died under tragic circumstances.
Beggs high schooler Kayson Toliver was murdered by his mother last week. She shot and killed him in his sleep. She also shot his sister, who is currently brain dead and on life support. A third sister was able to get the gun from their mother, who fled and was soon arrested.
A few weeks ago, I covered Beggs football in an important matchup against Victory Christian. Beggs won big. Kayson had over 100 yards and three touchdowns in the game.
In the press box, the game crew that handles the scoreboard and such were in awe of his performance. They kept talking about how great it was to see him shine in the game. One person mentioned he really needed it.
I’ve no clue if they were talking about his recent performance on the field or what was going on in his life, but that night he did shine.
I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him. The players were lost in celebration after the big win. Unlike college or professional sports, there is no one to help corral players for postgame interviews. Sometimes a coach or parent will try to assist. Following a game, players will often tear off their jersey and pads to get more comfortable, which also means it’s harder to spot them in the crowd.
High school football can mean the world to a community. It brings all types of people together to chase a dream of winning a championship. Every Friday in the fall, families and friends pack the stands to watch the kids play a game.
Of course we all know life can end at any moment. Some are fortunate enough to live to be in the 90s and watch the world change around us. Others are not so lucky.
Three weeks ago, Toliver was on top of the world, even if it was brief. Today, he’s no longer with us.
While I didn’t have the opportunity to write exclusively about Toliver, I’m proud I had the chance to watch him play the game and report about his efforts. I really hope that if things were bad as they likely were in his home, just maybe he saw his name in print and it gave him a reason to smile. Maybe he never saw it. Maybe he didn’t care about some guy writing about his game. I know for a fact there were a lot of people proud of him and loved cheering him on.
May they both rest in peace.