What Book Would Come

Who am I?

My name is Justin Cliburn. I grew up in Lawton and live in Oklahoma City. I have never written a book, but I've written as a newspaper reporter and attorney. In my day job, I represent public school districts in state and federal courts across Oklahoma. 

 What do I need to tell this story?

More than anything, I need to hear from Kiowa County residents, past and present. I have developed a questionnaire that I hope you will share with fellow Kiowa County brethren.

 Why am I writing this?

I stumbled on the story of the Babbs Switch fire in 2020 and could not get it out of my head. The more I dug, the more interesting it became. When I attempted to borrow a book about the story, I realized no one had told the entire story. Before I knew it, I had saved dozens of newspaper clippings, re-constructed family trees, and e-mailed myself note after note after note. 

 Why should I be the one to tell this story?

I am a lifelong Oklahoman, lover of history, reader of narrative/creative nonfiction, and utterly fascinated with this story. On a more personal level, I feel a connection to this story. Although I do not have a familial connection to the fire (I have learned there were Cliburns in Hobart though, including "Shady" Cliburn), I know what it is like to wake up, rub your eyes, and suddenly remember that you are giving the eulogy for your brother that day. Or your nephew. Or your niece. I empathize with the people—and they are people, not characters—in this story. 

 What is my timeline?

I hope to publish this book in time for the 100th anniversary of the fire, which would be in 2024. Right now, I am working with Brendan O'Meara of the Creative Nonfiction Podcast to develop an agent query letter and book proposal. Why? Because I only get one chance to tell this story, and I owe it to myself, the readers, and the subjects of the book to get it right. Below is the query letter, which is used to secure a publishing agent who will shop the book to publishers. 

 Agent Query Letter

On a frigid Christmas Eve in 1924, guests throughout Kiowa County flocked to a one-room schoolhouse on the shortgrass plains of Southwest Oklahoma for its annual Christmas Tree celebration. Its teacher planned the event for weeks, and the school had never looked better. Candles and gas lanterns cast the room in a warm glow, and shadows danced on the freshly-painted ceiling as neighbors chatted about climate, crops, and Christmas.  In the corner stood a Christmas tree adorned with candles, crepe paper ornaments, cotton icicles, and a star of Bethlehem. The school at Babbs Switch, six miles south of Hobart, was always a cozy environment and was especially so that night. Designed for 40 students, almost 200 souls were packed inside.

Despite warnings from the State Fire Marshal, everything that provided comfort that night—from the Christmas Tree to the fresh paint to the single door that thwarted the bitter cold and the wire window mesh that deterred burglars—belied imminent danger. The school was a tinderbox, but no one realized it until Santa Claus brushed against the Christmas tree, pushing a lit candle into its dry needles. The mistake sparked a blaze that killed 36 people—including Santa himself—and resulted in worldwide coverage, national fire safety reform, and a decades-long search for a missing girl. 

So much help arrived from around the world—in the form of letters, money, Christmas presents, and free architectural and construction services—that the Red Cross asked for anyone outside Oklahoma to stop. But, as the community buried their dead, re-built their school, and moved on with their lives, a mystery remained: where was four-year-old Mary Elizabeth Edens? Her grief-stricken parents spent years and countless dollars searching in vain to find her, praying their daughter was abducted by a childless couple. 

Their faith would seemingly be rewarded 32 years later when an accountant in California connects the dots between the story of the missing girl and one of his favorite clients, Grace Reynolds. After weeks of vetting Grace, the Edenses confirmed she was their missing daughter, and they were reunited on the nationally-televised Art Linkletter show. The happy ending delighted the country and again made Hobart national news. But a bombshell article decades later reignited the mystery: Grace Reynolds was not Mary Edens, the article alleged, and readers were shocked to learn that Mary’s father knew it in 1956. But Mrs. Edens spent three decades mourning her baby girl, and her husband could not bear to see her lose her daughter twice. 

What Good Would Come tells the true story of one of the Wild West’s last boomtowns, a prophetic fire marshal, a reluctant legislature, a newlywed teacher, a horrified nation, and a relentless search for a missing girl, punctuated decades later by a real-life phoenix, a nationally-televised reunion, and a journalist who valued honor and humanity over profit and prestige. It is a story of carelessness and indifference. Generosity and sacrifice. Hope and hopelessness. Redemption and second chances, and kindness and compassion. 

Almost a century later, mysteries remain. Was Grace really the missing girl? If not, was she an opportunistic impostor or just another victim of the Babbs Switch fire? And, if she was not the girl, what happened to Mary Elizabeth Edens?

I am a lifelong Oklahoman, a public schools attorney, and a former soldier whose short stories about my time in Iraq have been published or featured by Warrior Writers, The Good Men Project, NPR, and StoryCorps—the latter culminating with an interview by Stephen Colbert. Given my unique access to the town, historical records, and the families involved, I am uniquely positioned to tell this story. Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to hearing from you and will be happy to answer any questions you may have.