not been forgotten. These lessons started us on the way to our present
success. I do not use the word "success" boastfully, but because it
really states a fact: we have done much more than we ever hoped to do,
and have been the means of contributing in some slight measure toward
the uplifting of the immediate community about us.
We are located at a place called Dawkins, not more than twelve miles
from the Tuskegee Institute, and immediately within its sphere of
influence.
Our mother and father were born within a few miles of where we now live.
Both of our parents, at the time I write, are living, and are each
about sixty-five years of age; they were, for twenty-five years each,
slaves. Neither can read or write. My brother and I each spent about
three years at Tuskegee, and, in addition, he attended school for two
years at Talladega College.
I had a very thorough course in carpentry, and my brother worked on the
Institute farm. We married two sisters, Susie and Lillie Hendon. Shortly
after my marriage my beloved wife Susie died, leaving me with one child.
My brother's wife still lives; they have three children.
Until ten years ago we, with our father, were renters, all of us working
together. But the Sunday evening talks at Tuskegee by Principal
Washington, and his urgent insistence, at all times, that Tuskegee
graduates and students should try to own land, led us to desire to
improve our condition. We were large renters, however; for twenty-three
years our father and his relatives had leased and "worked" a tract of
1,100 acres of land, having leased it for ten years at a time. We still
lease this tract, and, in addition, rent an additional 480 acres in the
same way, ten years at a time. We subrent tracts of this total of 1,580
acres to thirty tenants, charging one and one-half bales of cotton for
each one-horse farm. We pay twenty-three bales for the rent of the
1,580 acres. My brother and I run a sixteen-horse farm, doing much of
the work ourselves and paying wages to those who work for us. A number
of others also work for us on "halves"--that is, we provide the land,
furnish the seeds, tools, mules, feed the mules, and equally divide
whatever is raised. This is largely done in all the country districts of
the South.
About ten years ago we bought in our own right our first land, 320
acres. Since that time we have acquired by purchase another tract
containing 285 acres. The first tract we paid for in two years; the
other is also paid for. The total of 605 acres, I am glad to say, is
without incumbrance of any kind.
The following statements may give some idea as to what we have been able
to do since leaving Tuskegee:
During the year 1904 alone, we paid out $5,000, covering debts on land,
fertilizers, and money borrowed with which to carry our thirty tenants.
We own sixteen mules and horses, fourteen head of cattle, thirty hogs,
and have absolutely no indebtedness of any character.
My brother Dow lives in a good three-room house. My father and I live in
a good six-room house, with a large, airy hall, and kitchen; it cost
us to build, $1,500.
[Illustration: A SILO ON THE FARM.
Students filling it with fodder corn, steam-power being used.]
We conduct a large general store, with everything carried in a country
store of this kind. The colored Odd Fellows use the hall above our store
for their meetings.
The Government post-office is located in our store, and here all of the
surrounding community come for their mail.
Our store does a large yearly business averaging about $5,000.
We have a steam-gin and grist-mill. We gin about 500 bales of cotton a
season for ourselves and others living near; of the 150 bales got from
the land owned and rented by us, 100 are ours, the other 50 belong to
our tenants.
We raise large quantities of corn, potatoes, and peas, in addition to
our cotton crop.
We are now trying to purchase the 480 acres we have been so long
renting.
The church and the schoolhouse are on four acres of land immediately
adjoining ours. The church is roomy, well-seated, ceiled and painted, in
striking contrast with most of those in the country districts of the
South. The schoolhouse has two rooms, and is but partially ceiled,
though it is nicely weather-boarded. The school is regularly conducted
for five months each year, and part of the time has two teachers. Mr. J.
C. Calloway, a Tuskegee graduate, Class of '96, is principal of the
school. We are cooperating with Mr. Calloway in an effort to supplement
the school funds and secure an additional two months. We helped pay for
the land, and gave a part of the money toward the schoolhouse, and have
done all possible to help, keeping in mind Principal Washington's
oft-repeated statement that "it is upon the country public schools that
the masses of the race are dependent for an education."
My brother and I, with our father, it will be noted, own and rent 2,185
acres of land, but we try to help our tenants in every possible way,
and, when they desire it, subrent to them such tracts as they desire for
ten years, or less. We have established a blacksmith-shop on our land,
and do all our own work and most of that of the whole community. Rev.
Robert C. Bedford, secretary of the board of trustees, Tuskegee
Institute, some time ago visited us, as he does most of the Tuskegee
graduates and former students. He is apprised of the correctness of the
statements set forth above. He wrote the following much-appreciated
compliment to a friend regarding our homes and ourselves: "The homes of
the Reid brothers are very nicely furnished throughout. Everything is
well kept and very orderly. The bedspreads are strikingly white, and the
rooms--though I called when not expected--were in the very best of
order."
This further statement may not be amiss: Under the guidance of the
Tuskegee influences, the annual Tuskegee Negro Conferences, the visits
of Tuskegee teachers, etc., the importance of land-buying was early
brought to our attention, but because of the crude and inexperienced
laborers about us, we found that we could, with advantage to all, rent
large tracts of land, subrent to others, and in this way pay no rent
ourselves, as these subrenters did that for us. We could in this way
also escape paying taxes, insurance, and other expenses that naturally
follow. We could, as many white farmers do, hire wage hands at from
$7.50 to $10 a month, with "rations," or arrange to have them work on
"halves," as I have already described.
But at last we yielded to the constant pounding received at Tuskegee
whenever we would go over, that we ought to own land for ourselves; and
then, too, it occurred to me that we might not always have the same
whole-souled man to deal with, and that terms might be made much harder.
My brother and father agreed, and we set about to purchase the first 320
acres. As I feared, rental values have increased; formerly we rented the
1,100 acres for three bales of cotton; now we give sixteen bales for the
same land.
My brother, our father, and I have worked together from the beginning.
We have had no disputes or differences; we have worked on the basis of a
common property interest.
We have encouraged the people of our community as much as possible to
secure homes, buy lands, live decently, and be somebody. The following
are some typical examples of thrift and industry in the community about
us:
Turner Moore owns 210 acres of land adjoining ours. He was born near
where he lives and was over twenty-five years a slave. He has 11 mules
and horses and raised 65 bales of cotton last year. His property is all
paid for. His brother, Moses Moore, also has 65 acres, all paid for, and
Reuben Moore, a nephew, owns 212 acres, all paid for. Their farms join.
James Whitlow, father-in-law of Mr. J. C. Calloway, the teacher referred
to, owns 1,137 acres in one body, only about two miles from our place.
It is all paid for, and the deeds are all recorded at the Macon County
Courthouse. He was born right where he now lives, and was twelve years
old when freed.
Mr. Whitlow rents a gin, but will own one of his own this year. He also
carries on a store. He has 20 tenants, who will raise over 100 bales of
cotton this year together. He has raised over 30 himself. He has 20
mules, 3 horses, 30 head of cattle, and about 75 hogs. He does not owe a
nickel. His taxes are $60 per year. He has a very good four-room house,
besides a kitchen.
Mr. Whitlow has fourteen children, ten boys and four girls, who go to
school on our place. He himself can not read or write, but he helps the
school and church.
J. C. Calloway was born near us. He graduated from Tuskegee, and has
continued to work near his old home. He married James Whitlow's
daughter. He has a very good two-room frame house. Mr. Whitlow gave them
40 acres of land, and he is trying to buy an additional 100 acres. He
raised 17 bales of cotton this year and 150 bushels of corn. He has 4
horses and mules and 7 head of cattle, besides hogs, chickens, etc. He
is very highly thought of in his school work, and is successful as a
farmer.
I believe we are doing well. Our community is rated high, and I shall
never fail to praise Tuskegee for starting us in the way we are going.
VI
THE STORY OF A CARPENTER
BY GABRIEL B. MILLER
The plantation on which I was born in 1875 is located near Pleasant
Hill, Ga. At that time Pleasant Hill was twenty miles from any railroad,
and I did not see a railroad train till I was twelve years of age.
I lived on a plantation on which more than two hundred men and women
worked for the owner. The children had no especial educational
opportunities. Few of them were even permitted to attend the makeshift
public school located near. For six months only, of the twelve years my
father lived on that plantation, did I attend any school, and that a
small one taught by a Southern white woman who had owned my father. When
I was twelve years of age my father moved from the plantation on which
he had been working "on shares" and rented land which he and his family
cultivated. Soon there were thirteen children in his family, of which
number I was the second.
In December, 1892, I drove a wagon with two bales of cotton to a little
Georgia town. While waiting for the wagon preceding me to move off the
scales on which the cotton was weighed, I heard a colored man, who had
heard of Tuskegee Institute, telling of its advantages, and he quite
glowingly recounted the glories of the place as they had been related to
him. As he proceeded he informed those gathered about him that at this
school a boy could work his way if perchance he could reach the
institution. I got nearer to him and heard and treasured every word he
said. Especially did I remember his statement that he had been informed
that some of the boys graduating from there had not paid a single cent
in cash for their education, having worked it all out.
When I reached home that night I told my father of what I had heard. For
three successive years our crops had failed and my father was more than
$500 in debt. The prospect of interesting him in any project that meant
the expenditure of money was discouraging, but an eager desire to secure
an education led me to make him a proposition, viz.: that he should
permit me during the next year, 1893, to have full and complete charge
of the farm, and if I succeeded in settling all of his indebtedness I
was to be released to attend school at Tuskegee, provided I could secure
admittance, whether he cleared any money or not. This proposition my
father readily agreed to. He sympathized with my ambitions, but the
heavy burden of carrying a large family with short-crop returns dwarfed
whatever good intentions he might have.
On the first of January, 1893, those of the family who could work joined
me in starting early and working late during the whole of the year. We
ran a two-horse farm. From that year's work we gathered 25 bales of
cotton, 800 bushels of corn, 300 bushels of cow-peas, 250 gallons of
sugar-cane sirup, 5 wagon-loads of pumpkins, a great amount of hay and
fodder, and picked at night for neighbors about us, white and black, 25
bales of cotton. We had rented two mules and the wagon used that year,
but now at the close bought two younger, stronger mules and a new wagon
and paid cash for the whole outfit. We settled our indebtedness with
everybody, and my father, who had earnestly worked under my supervision
along with the others, was very, very happy. Of course, we had a very
small balance left--not enough to be of any service to me in keeping me
in school except I should be allowed to help myself by working. After
"laying the crops by" I made home-made baskets during the summer and
sold them, realizing about $16. In one year I had accomplished a task my
father thought impossible of accomplishment. He religiously kept his
word, and was as enthusiastic about my getting off to school as I was.
I had now learned more of the Tuskegee Institute, and was impatient to
reach there. Others, too, became eager and enthusiastic, and so when I
started, January 19, 1894, it was a red-letter event in our little
community. I left home with only the $16 I had saved from the sale of my
baskets. The next morning after reaching Tuskegee I was piloted to the
Principal's office and my recommendations requested. I was puzzled. I
did not know what was wanted. I had not followed the usual routine and
written for permission to enter as students are required to do, but had
gone ahead, thinking the presentation of myself all that would be
necessary. I had no recommendations, but mustered courage enough to ask
for a trial before being refused. My request was granted, and I became a
student--proud event in my life!--of the famous Tuskegee Normal and
Industrial Institute.
I had always wanted to be a carpenter; as long ago as I can remember
this was my ambition, but when carried to the office of the director of
industries he refused to assign me to work there, as that division was
filled, but assigned me instead to the sawmilling division. I was not
angry, of course. I was too glad to be at Tuskegee; but I was bitterly
disappointed, especially after I had seen the carpenter shop, some of
the work of the young men, and the imposing buildings on which they had
been and were working. I was promised the first vacancy, and that
temporarily eased my sorrow. A vacancy did not occur for one and a half
years. In the meantime I had become reconciled, and had worked as
earnestly as I could to please the instructor in sawmilling. I tried to
learn all there was to learn in that division, and at the end of that
period could adjust and run proficiently every machine in the sawmilling
division. The school cut then, as it does now, most of the lumber used
in the carpentry division, and efficient students were needed and
desired. My instructor was so well pleased with my progress that he
recommended, over my protest, to the director of industries, my
retention in the division.
I had kept so busily after the director during those eighteen months to
allow me to enter the shop that he could not well refuse to grant my
request when a vacancy occurred. I was admitted to the carpenter shop.
For five years I was an apprentice, doing work of every kind. I also
took mechanical drawing along with carpentry. When I graduated in 1900 I
received not only a diploma from the academic department, but a
certificate from the carpentry division as well. I had improved every
opportunity, and had a fair knowledge of architectural as well as of
mechanical drawing. This latter instruction I had made a place for along
with my other studies.
Maj. J. B. Ramsey, the Commandant, had been so well pleased with my
general deportment that for years I was commissioned by him to command,
as captain, one of the companies of the Tuskegee Institute battalion of
cadets. This had pleased and encouraged me very much indeed.
To my surprise, three months before my graduation I was asked to remain
in the employ of the Tuskegee Institute as one of the assistant teachers
in the carpentry division. I had contracted, however, to do some work at
Montgomery, Ala., and I could not accept the place offered. I spent
about four months working at my trade in Montgomery, and was again
reminded of the offer made me at Tuskegee. I returned to Tuskegee, but
did not remain long, as the Executive Council of the Institute
recommended me, when application was made for a competent man to take
charge of the carpentry division of the Fort Valley High and Industrial
School, Fort Valley, Ga. The terms offered were satisfactory and I
accepted the position.
I began work here November 9, 1900, in a shop 30 feet by 60 feet. No
tools and no work-benches were provided, only a lot of inexperienced
boys to whom I was expected to teach carpentry. I owned a chest of
tools, and these I used until the school could secure some. I proceeded
at once to make work benches, and my boys had their first lessons in
carpentry in providing these. Quite often visitors who come to see us
ask if these benches were not made at some factory, they are so well
made. We next proceeded to fit out a drawing-room, as I intended that my
boys should work--as I had been compelled to do from the very beginning
at Tuskegee--from drawings. Everything I had done there had to be
carefully worked out in advance, and, knowing the value of that kind of
thing, I did not want these boys to have anything less than the kind of
instruction I had had. We made tables and desks for the drawing-room;
next we ceiled and finished twelve rooms in the main school building
that had long been left unfinished. All of the work pleased the
authorities of the school, I have reason to know. Near the close of my
first term at Fort Valley it was decided to erect a dormitory building
for girls. I was asked to submit plans and specifications. My training
as a carpenter at Tuskegee had fitted me for just that kind of thing,
and I set about designing a building that would meet the requirements of
the young women attending Fort Valley.
My plans were finally accepted, and I thought to go on with the erection
of the building during the summer, as had been planned; but one or two
of the building committee began to object, urging that I was too young,
that I had not had enough experience, and that a building of that
quality should be erected by a builder of proved reputation. After much
delay I was permitted to proceed. I began with ten "green" boys, and
they, under my direction as I worked side by side with them, did all of
the work except the hanging of the window-sashes, doors, etc. I had
outside help in doing this part of the finishing. The building is a real
pride to all of us here. It is 36 feet by 78 feet, 2-1/2 stories high,
has 22 sleeping-rooms, a splendidly arranged dining-room, 36 feet by 36
feet, and cost $3,200. No one, hereabouts at least, now doubts that I
can build anything I say I can. I am glad that so soon after beginning
the work here I was able to prove the claims of my Tuskegee instructors
as to my fitness for the position for which they had recommended me.
Unfortunately, before I had completed the dormitory for girls, a fire
destroyed our main school building with the contents. This fire left us
without class-rooms. We took refuge in the Carpenter Shop, and held
classes there until money was secured with which to build a
training-school for the lower grades. This latter building I also put up
entirely with student labor. It contains three large rooms, each 25 feet
by 30 feet. The appointments in every way accord with approved hygienic
laws. Dr. Wallace Buttrick, Executive Secretary of the General Education
Board, spoke complimentarily of the building when he saw it, as one of
the few in the State he had seen that met all the requirements of a
class-room. We were able to build it for $1,600.
Even during the construction of the training-school I was drawing the
plans for a large brick building to replace the one burned. My plans
were submitted to friends of the work in the North, and by the time we
had finished the training-school we had money enough to begin the
brickwork on the new building. By April, 1903, the brickwork was
complete, and as we had no additional money we were compelled to allow
the building to stand until June, 1904, at which time we were able to
resume.
My boys did all of the woodwork, did the hod-carrying, and most of the
unskilled labor. The building cost $8,000, and is 86 feet 8 inches by 52
feet 8 inches in its dimensions, is 2-1/2 stories high, and has a deckle
roof with dormer windows. The chapel is on the first floor, 6
recitation-rooms on the second floor, and 13 sleeping-rooms for boys on
the one-half third-story floor. A basement for storage purposes, 25 feet
by 50 feet, is a great convenience.
Of the many contractors and builders who have visited our school-grounds
none have failed to speak in praise of the design, the workmanship, the
strength, and the relative relation to each other of the school
buildings with regard to future additions.
I need not add that this has been very pleasing to me. I was married
December 9, 1904, at Atlanta, Ga., to Miss Mary E. Hobbs.
To me Tuskegee has been all in all, and I still remember with gratitude
the man who, in my hearing, spoke so glowingly of the school as I
weighed my cotton in the little Georgia town away back in December,
1892.
VII
COTTON-GROWING IN AFRICA
BY JOHN W. ROBINSON
As all autobiographical sketches begin, so do I begin this one. I was
born in Bennettsville, S. C., in 1873. Neither of my parents could write
their names; but my father could read a little, and taught me the
alphabet.
My paternal grandfather was a slave of some intelligence. He was a
competent carpenter, had charge of his master's saw- and grist-mills,
and kept the accounts of the two mills. His master, who was a member of
the State Legislature, was very kind to him. He allowed him a portion of
the savings from these industries he was controlling, and even promised
him his freedom. The latter he delayed so long that my grandfather ran
away. He succeeded in reaching Charleston, S. C. He had secured a ticket
and was about to take passage for Canada, when he was captured and
returned to his master's home. His master was attending the General
Assembly of the State of South Carolina, and it became the overseer's
duty to punish the returned fugitive. My grandfather never recovered
from the effects of the brutal punishment meted out to him for daring to
desire freedom in his own right.
My father was the oldest boy and the second child in a family of five.
He was a farmer and a cobbler. At the age of twenty-seven he was married
to my mother.
I suppose the history of my mother's life would be monotonous and dull
to many ears, but I remember that I never grew tired of hearing her
relate its somber happenings. She often told us how her grandmother
could relate the thrilling story of her capture on African soil and of
being brought to America, of the horrors of the passage, and of much
else that I shall always remember.
After their marriage my parents began farming in Bennettsville,
Marlborough County, S. C., the place where I was born. I remember most
vividly that two-roomed log cabin where my parents' ten children were
born--
"Low and little, and black and old,
With children as many as it could hold."
However, my father soon began working for wages, and received $10 per
month and the proverbial "rations"--three pounds of meat and a peck of
meal per week. What a financier he must have been, for from that mean
sum he managed to save $50 or $75 each year, and I still cherish the
memory of how fondly I felt those crisp green-backs once a year. He
brought them home every Christmas and allowed each member of the family
to feel them--yes, even caress them.
When I was about nine years of age I entered the public school of the
community, which was in session about four months in a year, opening
late in the fall and going through the winter. My parents were so
delighted and gratified at the progress I made that I was occasionally
privileged to spend one month in the subscription school conducted near
by during the summer.
When I was fourteen years of age a great sorrow visited our home. My
mother died. I often wonder if any one can realize what it means to lose
a mother without having suffered that bereavement. My father did not
marry again.