Whittier so beautifully sings, but I do remember that I was early
impressed that my feet must have been made for the express purpose of
treading "the mills of toil." When seven years of age my stepfather put
a hoe in my little hands and bade me go and help my mother weed the
cotton-patch, and from that day to the present time I have been
constant in my application to some form of labor.
When my mind reverts to that early period of my life I become my own
photographer and get various pictures of myself, either as picking,
hoeing, or planting cotton, of pulling fodder or splitting rails, for
these were the things I did from childhood to manhood.
My stepfather had been the foreman, or "driver," for his master when he
was a slave, and I am persuaded to believe that he must have been an
excellent one, for I can not remember in all my life when a day's work
had been so full, so complete, so well done, that he would not press for
a little more the next day.
Mortgaging of crops was then in vogue, as it is to-day, and my mind
revolts when I think of how my young life and the lives of my mother,
sisters, and brothers were burdened with the constant grind of trying to
eke out a living and, if possible, get even a little ahead.
Some years, when conditions had been favorable, we were able to clear
ourselves of debt and begin anew. But, seemingly, this prosperity was
not for us, for these years of plenty were almost invariably followed by
one or two less fruitful ones that came and "swallowed up the whole,"
leaving us as forlorn and as wretchedly poor as we were before. This
failure of the crops because of drouths unduly long, wet seasons, the
ravages of worms, caterpillars, and other uncontrollable circumstances,
not only meant that the whole of that year's labor was to bring no
tangible rewards, but that much property accumulated in more prosperous
times was to be dissipated as well. I can recall repeated instances when
all of my stepfather's live stock was taken for debt under this crushing
system. And thus it was that my stepfather, and my mother, and the rest
of the farmers for miles around existed!
During all these years my brothers, sisters, and myself were growing up
in ignorance. Until I was ten years old I had never heard of a school
for colored children. Even after the privilege of attending school two
months of the year--July and August--had been accorded me, I am certain
that the instruction received was of that kind that hinders more than it
helps. Year after year the course of study would be repeated. Perhaps
this repetition was necessary for more than one reason:
First, ten months' vacation does not tend to firmly impress upon one's
mind the knowledge acquired in two.
Second, the teachers themselves had such limited knowledge that two
months were ample time in which to exhaust their store of knowledge,
and, as examinations were so easy, it was not imperative that they do
more than "keep school."
I remember quite distinctly that when I did go to school we used the
proverbial Webster's blue-back speller. The majority of the pupils began
with the "A, B, C," the alphabet, and went as far as "horseback," while
apt pupils might be able to reach "compressibility." And so for years we
went from "A" to "compressibility" on "horseback."
In those days the three "R's" were not confounded. Only one of them was
given to us, and that in broken doses, for I reached manhood without
being able to write a single word or to work a problem in mathematics.
Neither my mother nor stepfather could read or write a line; not a book,
newspaper, or magazine was ever seen in our home. It was most unusual to
see a colored man or woman who could either read or write.
When a mere boy I inwardly protested against this manner of
bringing-up. I determined to make my life more useful, to make it better
than it was. But how long these years were! However, the day came when I
was twenty-one, and I began to create a "life" for myself.
I immediately went to work doing farm labor, and saved my earnings until
I had twenty-five or thirty dollars ahead. I then decided to go to
school somewhere and to learn something. I found my first opportunity in
Montgomery, Ala. I went there in November, 1883, and entered the Swayne
School.
Everything was new and strange to me. I had never seen so large a
schoolhouse before. I was dazed, bewildered. There I was, a great, grown
man, in the class with little children, who looked upon me as a
curiosity, something to be wondered at. I, too, looked at them with
amazement, for it seemed next to impossible for young boys and girls to
know as much as they seemed to know.
I can not say that I was heartily received by the pupils. I was awkward,
and I discovered that the city children did not find me pleasingly
companionable.
It is probable that at this point I should have grown discouraged and
given up had I not met that great and good man, Rev. Robert C. Bedford,
who is now, as he has been for many years, secretary of the board of
trustees of the Tuskegee Institute, and who travels among and reports
upon the work of Tuskegee graduates and former students, but who was at
that time pastor of the First Congregational Church in Montgomery. I
regularly attended his church and the Sunday-school connected therewith,
and received such help and encouragement from him as but few men can
impart to others.
It was he who first told me of Tuskegee and advised me to enter there. I
felt that this advice, if heeded, would work for my good. I was admitted
to Tuskegee for the session beginning September, 1884, three years after
the school had been opened.
When I entered Tuskegee I was filled with loathing for all forms of
manual labor. I had been a slave to toil all my life and had resolved
that, if it were possible for a colored man to make a living by doing
something besides farming, splitting rails, or picking and hoeing
cotton, I would be one of that number. I was compelled at the school,
however, like the others, to work at some industry. I did some work on
the farm and was one of the school's "boss" janitors.
[Illustration: STUDENTS PRUNING PEACH-TREES.]
Though I had no real inclination to learn a trade or to perform any kind
of manual toil, I did desire to be useful, and throughout my whole
school life at Tuskegee I had visions of myself seated in an office
pondering over Blackstone, Kent, and Storey, with a "shingle" on the
outside announcing my profession to all passers-by.
After spending some time in Tuskegee and diligently applying myself, I
was much gratified to find that I was able to pass the State examination
for a second-grade certificate, and to teach, during the vacation
period, the very school in which I had so long before learned to spell
"horseback" and "compressibility."
I spent four years in the Tuskegee Institute, graduating with the class
of 1888.
Before graduating, I divulged to Mr. Washington my long-cherished
ambition, and was somewhat chagrined to find that he did not think much
of my dreams. He apparently sympathized with this larger vision, but
seemed to think I ought to have more education. I suspect he was right.
However, I was determined to make an effort to realize my ambitions. I
insisted that he must help me to find a place to read law. After a
while it was decided that I should begin in the office of Mr. William M.
Reid, of Portsmouth, Va.
With this end in view, I taught in the State of Alabama from May, 1888,
until April, 1889. I then left for Portsmouth.
Though I had worked for eleven months, I had but $1.25 when I reached
Portsmouth. My salary had been meager, I had paid every cent I owed the
school, and had met the many obligations necessary to living in a
decently comfortable manner.
I found Mr. Reid to be an intelligent, studious, hard-working young man,
with a fairly good practise, and in that hour of uncertainty and
embarrassment he proved himself to be "the friend in need." With his aid
I was not long in finding work by which I earned enough to pay my board
and buy books to help me in my study of law at night.
I worked during the daytime at the United States Navy-Yard in
Portsmouth, receiving $1.25 per day. I had never before earned so much
money. I was able not only to meet my regular bills but to save
something, and soon began to collect a law library. I worked at the
Navy-Yard for three years. It was my privilege to work upon the
second-class battleship Texas, and upon the steel-protected cruiser
Raleigh, both of which rendered admirable service in the
Spanish-American War.
In the spring of 1892 I felt that I had sufficient knowledge of law to
begin practising. I left Virginia and returned to Alabama. The tug of
war had now begun. I found it exceedingly difficult to get examined.
After trying for five months, I succeeded in getting a lawyer, a Mr.
Thompson, of Macon County, Ala., to recommend me to the chancery court
of that county for examination. I was examined in open court before all
the practising attorneys of that bar, and was given license to practise
law in the State of Alabama.
I was elated, overjoyed--my dream was nearing its realization!
I selected Mobile, Ala., a city of about fifty thousand inhabitants, as
my field of labor. I opened my office on September 8, 1892, and have
practised law there from that time to the present date. Though I have
met many obstacles and have had many difficulties to surmount, I have
never had to close my office, or seek other employment to make a living.
I have done well.
I have experienced no embarrassment because of prejudice. The judges and
juries have discussed cases with me in the same manner that they would
with any other lawyer at the bar. I have even had a few white clients.
To get the confidence of my own people is the hardest problem I have had
to solve, for I find that men are still sometimes without honor in their
own country.
I am daily confronted with many petty difficulties. I sometimes find
that even a religious difference will come between me and a probable
client. Some think I should be a Baptist, others would have me a
Methodist, and others still suggest that I should embrace the Catholic
faith. I should also belong to every secret society in the city, and
attend every public gathering no matter what the hour, whether it be
called at high noon or at dawn of day.
Despite these things to be expected of a people but forty years free,
and used to white judges, and juries, and lawyers, and unused to dealing
with one of their own, I feel that I am still winning my way. It is my
desire to help my fellow men, and in return receive an appreciable
share of their help.
After practising my profession for nearly two years, I was married to
Miss Sarah E. Ogden, who was at that time a student at the Tuskegee
Institute. We have been happily married for ten years and have been
blessed with six children, only three of whom, I am sorry to state, are
living.
I feel that I can not close this short sketch without paying a closing
tribute to my _alma mater_--Tuskegee. Those lessons of thrift, industry,
and integrity dwelt upon by Principal Washington and his coworkers, I
shall never forget. My heart thrills and its pulses beat whenever I
think of what it has meant to me to come in contact with the quickening
influences of that school.
I lift up my voice and call her blessed, my Tuskegee!
IV
A SCHOOL TREASURER'S STORY
BY MARTIN A. MENAFEE
I was born on a plantation in Lee County, Ala., and, as my parents were
very poor, I was placed in the field and did not see the inside of a
schoolroom until I was twelve years old. I then had a chance to attend a
three months' school for six months, or for two years, as we usually
called it. Before this I had had one of my shoulders dislocated through
an accident and have been able to use but one arm since.
At this period I made up my mind to secure an education, and a gentleman
who was teaching school at my home took me to an Alabama college,
thinking that he could perhaps get me in school there. I told the
president of the college that I wanted an education, and offered him my
services in return for such opportunities as he would open to me, but
seeing my condition, he soon concluded that I could render but little in
the way of services. I pleaded with him for a trial, but he refused me
admittance, albeit in a very nice and polite manner.
I returned home, then at Oakbowery, Ala. Very soon after my return I
heard of the Tuskegee Institute, and I think it was in July of that year
when I made up my mind that I would start for this school, which was
about forty miles from where I lived. After walking to Auburn, Ala.,
twelve miles, I waited for the train and, as she glided up, I walked in
and took my seat. Before I left home I knew some walking would be
necessary, and preferred doing it at the beginning of the journey. I was
admitted on my arrival, after some parleying, and was promptly assigned
to work in the brick-yard. After I had been there for two days I found
that the sun had no pity on, or patience with, me; it seemed to blister
me through and through. I finally concluded that the sun, together with
the brick-yard, was blasting the hopes I had entertained and the
determination I had fostered, of securing an education. I tried to get
my work changed, but the Director of Industries did not see it as I did,
and would not do it.
The next thing that I settled upon for relief was to get sick, but a
day's trial of that showed that would not work. I decided that I would
return home, where I was sure I would at least find no brick-yard to
harass or disturb. My stay at the school was just about seven or eight
days. I would like to add just here, however, that I am very glad that I
was put on the brick-yard, as it certainly left in me the spirit of work
after I got over that first affliction of heat.
Very soon after I had returned home I received a letter from one of the
teachers of Talladega College, a Miss S. J. Elder, who met me when I was
there seeking entrance, asking me to go to Jenifer, Ala., and attend a
school there conducted by two white ladies; she said she would "foot"
all of my bills. This greatly relieved me, and I considered it a great
thing. Very soon thereafter I had my clothes ready, and was at Jenifer.
I was there for one year, but Tuskegee was constantly on my mind; in
fact, I had made up my mind to give it a second trial.
On October 29, 1894, I again went to Tuskegee and asked for admission. I
was admitted with the understanding that I should stand up in the Chapel
and make a public acknowledgment of the wrong I had done in leaving the
school without permission. This seemed like a great humiliation, as I
could hardly talk to one person, to say nothing of the thousand
students and teachers then there, as I stammered so much. Mr. Washington
seemed to understand the situation and was kind enough to help me out by
asking questions.
I was given work on the farm, and started out again with renewed vigor
and determination to complete a course of study. The farm manager, Mr.
C. W. Greene, was very kind to me and gave me work that I could do.
After I had been on the farm about two weeks he placed me at the gates
to keep out the cows and hogs that might be tempted to walk in on the
school-lawns. This work I enjoyed, and very soon established an "office"
under a tree near the gate. I held this position and kept this "office"
for two years.
I was then taken from there and placed in Mr. Greene's office to help
him. It was at Tuskegee that I first saw a typewriter and shorthand
writing. I made up my mind that I would be a stenographer and
typewriter, and thought that if I could learn this, that would be as
high up as I cared to go in life. I borrowed a book on shorthand, not
being able to purchase one, and began the study without a teacher. Very
soon I realized that I had learned a little, and my ambition grew. I
wanted a typewriter.
I got up enough courage to go to the Rev. R. C. Bedford, who often
visited the school, and who was one of my best friends, and, in fact, is
largely responsible for my being able to stay at Tuskegee as long as I
did, and told him I wanted a typewriter; I repeatedly told him that my
success in life largely depended upon my securing it. Mr. Bedford said
he would see what could be done, and, in a very short time, he came from
the North and brought the machine. When he informed me that he had
brought it, it did seem that I could not stay on the grounds. I felt
then that I had all that was necessary to make me a stenographer, and
very soon declared myself a member of the stenographic world.
I advanced very well in these new studies and was given some work to do
in the offices. The regular school stenographers helped me all they
could.
The saddest experience I ever had in connection with the Tuskegee
Institute was at the end of my second summer. I was very anxious to
remain in the employ of the school, as my people were very poor and I
did not care to be home on them unless I could become a full field hand,
and I felt that the school had much work that I could do. I appealed to
the Director more than once to let me remain, but he replied each time
that the work department was closed; that he could not take any more,
and furthermore, that it was best that I return home. Mr. Bedford
encouraged me all he could and told me that I might find something to
do; that I should launch out for myself. I went to Opelika, and Mr.
Bedford was on the same train. He and I were in Opelika together for
about a half day. He was on his way to Beloit, Wis., his home, and I was
on my way home to Oakbowery. About thirty minutes before it was time for
my train to leave, I noticed a man who was very busy superintending the
hauling of some lumber. This man asked my name, what I could do, and
where I was from. For a moment I hesitated to tell him, but finally did.
I found that he was the principal of the colored city school at Opelika,
Professor J. R. Savage. Mr. Savage proved to be a true friend. He gave
me work at once in the Summer Normal School he was conducting. I went to
my home that evening, rejoicing that I had found work. When I returned
to Opelika Mr. Savage asked me to take charge of the business department
of the Summer Normal and teach shorthand and typewriting. I worked with
him in this way for three summers, my vacation periods, with much
success. We worked well together and in perfect harmony.
At the opening of each school year at Tuskegee I would be among the
first to get there to begin my studies. I found that, in order to remain
at Tuskegee, students had to have a real purpose. I had one, and I think
so impressed the Faculty before leaving there.
I did not have all smooth sailing, and, at times, I would all but give
up.
I was at Tuskegee for six years, and I recall those years with much
pleasure and satisfaction. During my stay there I made many friends, and
I can not refrain from mentioning the Rev. R. C. Bedford, who has helped
me in so many ways; Mr. Warren Logan, the Treasurer of the school; Mrs.
F. B. Thornton, the Matron, who took me as her son, and my dear friend,
the farm manager, Mr. C. W. Greene. Many others were also very kind to
me.
I completed my course of study in 1900. By this time Mr. Bedford had
secured a position for me at Denmark, S. C., as stenographer to the
principal, Miss Elizabeth E. Wright, a Tuskegee graduate. I did not hold
this position very long before it was decided in a meeting of the board
of trustees to have me act as the school's treasurer. On being asked to
take this place, I answered that I would do my best. I have now been
here since the fall of the year of my graduation. I like the work
immensely.
A word about the school: It is known as the Voorhees Industrial School,
and is located in the midst of an overshadowing Negro population. It has
just completed the seventh year of its existence. Miss Wright, the
principal, founded it on faith. She is a delightfully spiritual woman,
and was at first greatly opposed in her efforts by both the black and
white people of this section. She persevered, however, and all the
people are now her friends. Her work here has been but little short of
marvelous. The pride of the grounds is a splendidly arranged Central
Building, which cost $3,000. It contains offices, class-rooms, and a
chapel that will seat 600 persons. A large building for girls, costing
$4,000, has also been erected. A Tuskegee graduate drew the plans for
both of these buildings. A barn which cost $800 we have also been able
to complete, and are now using.
In our Faculty, in addition to Miss Wright, who is of the Class of 1904,
Tuskegee Institute, we have six other Tuskegee graduates: a farm
superintendent, a carpenter, a teacher of drawing, a principal of the
primary department, a sewing and cooking teacher, a millinery teacher
and industrial helper, and a treasurer and bookkeeper, myself.
The day- and boarding-pupils number 300.
Voorhees is one of the sixteen larger "offshoots" of Tuskegee Institute,
manned and controlled by Tuskegee graduates. It is a chartered State
institution, and has on its board of trustees white and colored persons,
Northern and Southern. One of its very best and most helpful supporters
and friends is a Southern white man who has helped it in ways
innumerable, and has backed it when the courage of all of us has all but
faltered.
By precept and example the school is helping the black masses of rural
South Carolina to help themselves. The work we do is far different from
that done by any other school in the State; we provide the way for our
students, as at Tuskegee, because of their poverty, to work on the farm
and in the shops during the day and attend school at night. Without this
help most of them would be without any chance to attend school. Our
students are learning to dignify labor. None have yet graduated, as our
school is young and most of those who come to us can not read or write a
word. They are wofully ignorant, but so willing to learn, so earnest,
and so persevering.
During the last school year, 1903-'04, we received from all sources
$18,310.43. This will give some idea as to the scope and importance of
our work, and of my work in disbursing this large sum as the treasurer
of the school.
Our present property valuation is $25,000, and consists of 300 acres of
land, 3 large buildings, a large barn, a schoolhouse for primary
children, 4 cottages, an industrial building, 10 mules, 6 horses, 30
cows, 3 wagons, 3 buggies, etc., all free from indebtedness of any
character. We stay out of debt; that for which we can not pay we do
without.
We afford instruction in the following industries: Farming in its
various branches, shoemaking, carpentry, cooking, sewing, housekeeping,
laundering, millinery in a small way, printing, and blacksmithing.
The training received at Tuskegee has been of so much help to me since
leaving there. I made up my mind after graduation that I would urge my
parents and relatives to cease paying five and six bales of cotton each
year for rent, and instead take the same amount of cotton and buy a
place of their own. I am glad to say, through my efforts in this regard,
they have been placed on a tract of 160 acres of good land, and it is
practically paid for, they paying four bales of cotton a year. They are
doing well and are making something for themselves. This project seemed
a little strange to them for the first two years, but they are now used
to it.
"He that hath a trade," saith Franklin, "hath an estate, and he that
hath a calling, hath a place and honor." Since being out in the world I
have learned not to wait for a higher position or a better salary, and
have steadily sought to enlarge the ones I have had. I have tried to
fill such positions as I have had as they were never filled before, by
doing better work, by being more prompt, by being more thorough, more
polite, and, in fact, I have filled them so completely that no one else
could slip in by me. I have always laid great stress on work as a means
of developing power; I am called by some of my friends a fanatic on this
subject. My experience at Tuskegee taught me that our racial salvation
is to come through hard, earnest, intelligent, sincere work. I owe a
world of gratitude to the Tuskegee Institute for the training I received
there and for the great work it is doing for the Negro people.
I repeat, if I accomplish anything in life that is worth while, it will
be due wholly to the Tuskegee Institute, to its officers and teachers.
No true graduate of Tuskegee ever forgets the lessons learned there. I
am sure I shall not.
V
THE STORY OF A FARMER
BY FRANK REID
I am glad to be able to give some facts regarding what my brother Dow
and I have been able to do since leaving the Tuskegee Institute.