It began as nothing more than a joke. A character on television—smug, ridiculous—coasted down an elevator while declaring something so absurd that everyone laughed. It was too silly to be taken seriously, too exaggerated to live beyond the moment.
But no one challenged it. And why would they? It was just a laugh, a one-liner, a small puff of smoke that seemed harmless. Yet smoke drifts. It clings. The joke became a line repeated at dinner tables, then in office chatter, then across social media. What started as comedy grew like a weed, tangled and persistent.
You knew it was a lie. You knew from the very beginning. But saying something meant being the one to ruin the joke, the one to argue when everyone else was smiling. It was easier to let it go. Easier to think, Surely this will fade away.
Except it didn’t. The lie ballooned. It threaded itself into conversations, policies, schools, and pulpits. Suddenly your neighbors were quoting it as if it explained the world. Your family repeated it without hesitation. They did not repeat it because they believed it. They found it easier than fighting for the truth.
And now here you are. Watching as the lie isn’t just smoke anymore—it’s a fire, raging and indiscriminate, swallowing millions in its path. The streets fill with people repeating the words that started as a smirk on an elevator ride. And they look to you, because they trust you. Because they think you see what they see.
But you don’t. You know better.
The question is no longer whether the lie is funny. The question is whether you will stand against it now. It is late, but not too late. Otherwise, silence will make you part of it.
This rare 1889 photograph captures the Arlington Hotel. It was one of the first hotels established in Guthrie. This occurred just days after the historic Land Run opened the Unassigned Lands of Indian Territory.
In the spring of 1889, the red dirt of Oklahoma Territory was still freshly turned. The streets of Guthrie were more dust than road. Madame Jeffries Star, a bold woman, put up a hand-painted sign above a wooden doorway. It read: “Arlington Hotel – Meals Served at All Hours.”
It was less a hotel than a grand idea built with timber and tenacity. The two-story structure is captured in a faded photograph from that year. It stood proudly among a sea of tents. Hastily constructed shacks surrounded it. Its clapboard siding gleamed in the midday sun, and smoke curled from the kitchen chimney like a ribbon of welcome.
Guthrie had exploded into existence almost overnight with the Land Run of April 22, 1889. Nearly 10,000 settlers poured in by wagon, horseback, and foot, each staking their claim to this new frontier. But when night fell, those same pioneers found themselves with nowhere to go.
Enter Madame Star.
Suggested to be a woman of mystery. Some said she had once owned a boarding house in Kansas City. Others heard she had performed on stage in New Orleans. No one knew for sure. What people knew, though, was that she was shrewd and tireless. She was capable of running a kitchen, a business, and a town council meeting if needed. They had all read about her.
Guthrie Oklahoma1989
The Arlington Hotel was the first of its kind in Guthrie. It offered rooms upstairs and meals downstairs. There was always a pot of coffee brewing. Cowboys shared breakfast with lawyers. Surveyors clinked glasses with newspaper journalists. Sometimes, soldiers bunked beside farmers who were too exhausted to argue over who got the corner bed.
Madame Star insisted that the Arlington be open 24 hours a day. “Because,” she would say, “history doesn’t keep office hours, and neither should hospitality.”
Meals were hot but straightforward: bacon and biscuits, black-eyed peas, and strong coffee so thick it would float a horseshoe. In the parlor, people came not just to rest, but to talk, to strike deals, to dream out loud. The hotel quickly became Guthrie’s beating heart—a place where the dust of the land met the polish of civilization.
Legend has it that the first territorial judge was hastily appointed just days after the Land Run. He spent his first night in Oklahoma sleeping in Arlington’s parlor. He used a law book for a pillow.
By the end of 1889, the town had a newspaper, a post office, and a telegraph line. Yet, it had always had the Arlington. At the center of it all was the name Madame Star. The image of a lady with her sleeves were rolled and her apron tied. Shouting instructions to her cook. While she poured hot coffee for a stranger fresh off the train.
She reportedly ran the hotel for nearly a decade. Then she vanished from public life as mysteriously as she had arrived. Some say she married a wealthy cattleman and relocated to the South. Others believe she returned to the stage, this time in Denver. But no one knows for sure. No one really knew what she looked like. Some thought they had seen her moving about the kitchen. Others said they saw her walking up the stairs. But she was too busy to stop and chat.
The photo taken that first year is what remains. It is a time capsule of promise. It shows a wooden hotel standing tall against a treeless prairie. And beneath the sign that reads “Arlington Hotel,” one can make out the name painted in bold:
“Prop. Madame Jeffries Star.”
The story was told up and down the rail lines. Its purpose was to pull more people into Oklahoma from the surrounding area. But, research indicates it seems Madame Jeffries Star isn’t a real historical figure. Instead, it is a name featured in an old promotional caption or photograph related to the Arlington Hotel. One photo description I found reads:
“Photograph of the Arlington Hotel, the first hotel in Guthrie, Oklahoma Territory. Prop. Madame Jeffries Star, meals served at all hours.”(1)
The name Madame Jeffries Star appears in promotional materials or signage tied to the Arlington Hotel. Yet, there’s no supporting historical record, biography, or documentation confirming she was a real person. It’s that Madame Star was a marketing persona—much like later figures including Ronald McDonald or Jake from State Farm.
The Arlington is often referred to as the first hotel in Guthrie, Oklahoma. But to avoid historical disputes, we prefer to say it was “one of the first.” There’s no verified evidence placing a real Madame Star anywhere in the country during that time period.
So who did own the hotel? The earliest known location was at 1st and Vilas, later moving around 1896 to North 2nd. Records suggest that the owner was James Douglas—the only documented proprietor I found.
Interestingly, I also came across references to over fifty other hotels operating in Guthrie between 1889 and 1910. They all did brisk business. This continued until the state capital was moved to Oklahoma City. Many in Guthrie have long considered this decision nothing short of a political robbery.
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