entire term. On the 26th day of May, when the school closed, there yet
remained to my credit a sufficient amount to purchase a ticket to
Birmingham, and thence out to Pratt City, a near-by suburb. At Pratt
City I learned to dig coal, and at the end of every month they paid me
in gold. These shining pieces were precious possessions. For four
successive summers, in order to get sufficient money to care for my
mother and father and make my way in school, I went to Pratt City and
worked in the mines, at the furnaces, on the railroads, and around the
coke-ovens, enduring hardships which language can hardly describe. But
it all paid. The summer of 1888 was a trying one, but when the time came
for me to leave for school I had saved $200.
On the 30th day of May, 1889, a new epoch in my life began. I was
ushered into the busy world as a graduate of Tuskegee, being in a class
of twenty-two. I had looked forward to this event with pride and was
very happy.
So imbued was I with the pleasant thought that I was a graduate of
Tuskegee, that I little thought of the great responsibilities that
awaited me, but when my more sober thought came I realized that I was
going from most pleasant surroundings not to return the next year; that
I was going out not to return and meet indulgent and persuasive
teachers, loving classmates, and devoted friends. I then realized the
full meaning of the phrase we had selected that year as our class motto,
"Finished, yet just begun." Finished I had at Tuskegee, but I had to
begin work and life in the great busy world, with confidence alone as an
asset. The Commencement exercises on this particular occasion were most
impressive to me, made so in part, I suspect, because I was to be the
happy recipient of a coveted diploma. The Commencement speaker was the
late Joseph C. Price,[1] of North Carolina, and he was at his best.
Knowing no other field more inviting, I returned to Pratt City, where I
had worked successfully. On the 6th of June, 1889, I alighted from the
cars, and after spending a few days visiting relatives and friends,
applied at No. Four (4) Slope for a set of checks to dig coal. The
checks were readily given me because of my previous record as a miner.
After working there during the summer months, and with the same success
as had attended me previously, I had secured sufficient money to
straighten out my little financial affairs and move my parents and a
widowed sister with six small children from Tuskegee to Pratt City,
where I had decided permanently to live.
About this time Pratt City was made, by act of the Alabama Legislature,
a separate and independent school district, and I had the honor of being
elected to the principalship of the Negro school. There I had my first
experience as a teacher. I put my whole soul into the work. I had before
me the example of the Tuskegee teachers, and the lessons so thoroughly
taught there. That I must serve my fellows earnestly and unselfishly was
never forgotten.
So pleased was the Board of Education with my work that my salary was
soon advanced to $110 per month. This salary was somewhat extraordinary,
but Pratt City, Birmingham, Ensley, etc., are in one of the richest
mining sections in the world, and the money earned by blacks and whites
is greatly in excess of that earned in other parts of the State. I held
this position for four years, teaching eight and nine months in the
year, and spending the remaining three or four months of the time
working in the mines.
After a time my physical system had begun so completely to run down,
that I was reluctantly compelled to resign the position of teacher. In
the meantime I had purchased a home at Pratt City. Leaving my parents
there, I went to Milldale, Ala., to take up new work that offered a
change of climate. I returned every fifteen or thirty days, however, to
look after the needs of my parents. The entire expense of caring for
them, my sister and her children, was quite $60 a month. My work at
Milldale made good returns. I was with the Standard Coal Company, and
after I had been there fifteen months I had to my credit $1,000, an
amount I had long striven to save.
During this time my mother was stricken with fever, and after lingering
three months (one of which I spent at her bedside) she died. Our little
home was cast in deep sorrow. I returned to Milldale and resumed work
there. After two years had expired I had to my credit, I am glad to say,
$1,460. With this sum in hand I concluded I would take a course in
pharmacy. On October 15, 1894, I entered the Meharry Medical College at
Nashville, Tenn., the dean of which is that prince of gentlemen and
father of Negro physicians, Dr. George W. Hubbard. I completed the
course February 4, 1896, graduating at the head of the class with a
general average of 94-1/4 per cent.
I had pleasant associations while there with many of my former Tuskegee
class- and school-mates, among them being Dr. A. H. Kenniebrew, now of
Jacksonville, Ill., and for a while Resident Physician of the Tuskegee
Institute; Dr. T. N. Harris, of Mobile, Ala., and Dr. A. T. Braxton, of
Columbia, Tenn. Each of these is succeeding at the places named most
satisfactorily as physicians. At Meharry it was our constant pleasure to
refer to our training at Tuskegee, and to acknowledge how indelibly the
lessons learned there had been stamped upon our minds and hearts. While
there I had the opportunity to compare the instruction received at
Tuskegee--that of the academic department--with that of the other
institutions of learning in this and even other countries. At Meharry
one is thrown in direct contact with educated men and women from the
leading Negro colleges of this country, and with many from English
institutions of note. After careful investigation I found that the
Tuskegee-trained student, at all times, was among the very best there.
At Tuskegee I still consider that one of the greatest lessons taught is
that of "learning to learn."
[Illustration: AT THE HOSPITAL.
A corner in the boys' ward.]
At the close of my first year at Meharry I returned to Birmingham, and
after a conference with Drs. A. M. Brown and J. B. Kye, colored
graduates in medicine and pharmacy, and Mr. George F. Martin, we decided
to open a drug-store to be located in Birmingham. About May 7, 1895, the
doors of the People's Drug Company were opened to the public, with the
above-named gentlemen and myself as the stockholders and owners. Here I
invested my first money of consequence in a business enterprise, putting
in the greater part of the money to open the business, which invoiced
$1,600 or more in about five months after the opening. After affairs
were in good running order I left, and returned to Milldale to resume
work with the Standard Coal Company. During the spring and summer of
that year I realized about $500 from my mining operations.
In the fall of 1895 I returned to Meharry to complete the course already
begun. During that fall and winter the business was encouragingly
successful under the management of Dr. Kye, aided by Drs. Brown and
Mason; for about that time Dr. U. G. Mason, another colored physician,
had bought Mr. Martin's interest in the company and had become a partner
in the concern. My instructions to the management were to turn over to
my father my share of the net proceeds of the business while I was away.
My share of the profits kept the family going. My stay at Meharry this
last term was most pleasant. I had been promoted to the dignified
position of assistant to Dr. W. M. Savier, who was, and is, Dean of the
Pharmaceutical Department of the institution.
When I had completed my course I returned to Alabama to begin my work as
a pharmacist, and about April 1, 1896, successfully passed the required
State examination and was admitted to the practise of pharmacy. I took
the examination in Selma, the beautiful little city on the Alabama River
where, thirteen years before, I had had my desire for knowledge and
better opportunities awakened. I sold my interest in the People's Drug
Company at a sacrifice, and immediately opened business on "my own hook"
at 34 South Twentieth Street, Birmingham, Ala. In order to begin
business with some assurance of success, I organized another company,
and had associated with me in this new enterprise (the Union Drug
Company) Rev. T. W. Walker, Rev. J. Q. A. Wilhite, and Mr. C. L.
Montgomery--all responsible and enterprising citizens of Birmingham.
By hard and diligent work the business proved a success, and from time
to time I bought out the interests of the persons named, and accepted as
a partner a well-known physician and surgeon, Dr. George H. Wilkerson.
Dr. Wilkerson's connection with the business caused it rapidly to
increase in volume. When more help was required, as soon it was, we
secured the services of Mr. Jimmie James, a young pharmacist who is with
me until now. After a period of pleasant business association, Dr.
Wilkerson's interests in Mobile, his former home, demanded his presence
there. I purchased his interest in the Union Drug Company, and the name
was changed to the Union Drug Store. We had but recently located in our
own neat little quarters at No. 101 South Twentieth Street, a one-story
brick structure, at which place I continued to do business, supported by
Drs. W. L. Council and J. B. Goin, who sent their prescriptions to my
store, until February 8, 1904. In January, 1904, I secured a lot at No.
601 South Eighteenth Street, Birmingham, and personally erected there a
two-story frame building, which I now occupy.
During my short business career since graduation from the medical
school, I sought out a partner for life, and was fortunate to win the
hand of Miss Pearl L. Strawbridge, of Selma, Ala., who had come to
Birmingham to make her home with her brother, Mr. H. Strawbridge, who
now holds the honored position of secretary and general manager of one
of the largest fraternal insurance concerns in the country owned and
controlled by Negroes. Two children, a girl and a boy, have been added
to our family since the marriage.
Whatever I have done, or whatever I may do, that will deserve favorable
comment, I largely attribute to the fact that I was a student at
Tuskegee, and came under the personal care and instruction and guidance
of its distinguished Founder and Principal, Dr. Booker T. Washington,
and that I have striven, from the first day until now, to put into
practise the lessons taught me by him and his excellent body of
teachers. At Tuskegee we were taught the truism, "If you can not find a
way, make one." I hope I am not immodest in saying that I think I have,
in some degree, done this.
[1] Said to be one of the most eloquent speakers of the Negro people. He
died in the prime of life. He was President of Livingston College, which
is mainly supported by the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, and
has a large membership among the colored people.
XV
THE STORY OF A SUPERVISOR OF MECHANICAL INDUSTRIES
BY JAMES M. CANTY
I was born December 23, 1863, in Marietta, Cobb County, Ga. My parents,
James and Adella Canty, were slaves. I am the eldest of two brothers and
three sisters, who are all living. My father died in the fall of 1895.
Since that time, because of circumstances and inclinations, it has been
my lot to look after the welfare of my mother, who is still living in
Marietta, Ga., a place of about four thousand inhabitants.
At an early age I entered the public school at my home. My father,
however, soon put me to work, so that I grew up quite ignorant of books.
He was a carpenter and butcher, and fairly skilled in working iron. For
a number of years he kept a meat-market. At the age of sixteen I was
doing the principal part of the butchering. Some years later, when
father was appointed street "boss" of the town, I worked as one of the
street laborers. When he changed his occupation from street "boss" to
farmer, mine likewise changed. The rule was, a change from one
occupation to another, working day by day without attention to mental
growth, and having no thought of the future, till I was persuaded to
join several other boys who had decided to form themselves into a
night-class for purposes of self-improvement.
About this time, in compliance with my father's desire, and to my
delight, I entered a carriage factory as an apprentice. It was while
working there that I received a newspaper from a girl student at
Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute. The paper contained a long
descriptive article, with cuts of buildings, class-rooms, teachers, and
students. The student who had sent the paper was from my home, and with
it came a letter from her stating that she had spoken to Mr. Washington
in my interest, and that if I would come to Tuskegee I would be given a
chance to get an education. I shall never forget the impression made
upon my mind by that newspaper article and the young woman's letter.
[Illustration: IN THE TIN-SHOP.]
My father was consulted, and advised against my going away to school,
saying: "You can continue night-school here at home and at the same time
learn a trade. I never went to school a day in my life." Well, I knew
that my father, nevertheless, could read and write a little and do some
figuring, and that he at one time came within a few votes of being
elected to the State Legislature of Georgia. Contrary to his advice, I
concluded to go to Tuskegee. Looking back now, and connecting the
present with the day on which my decision was made, I think that time
and events have vindicated the wisdom of my decision.
After giving my employer two weeks' notice of my intention to give up my
work, I hastened to arrange my affairs, fearing that procrastination
might allow some event to change my mind and thus alter the whole course
of my life. Two weeks after giving notice to my employer, I started for
Tuskegee. I bought a ticket to Atlanta, where I spent the night. The
next morning I went to the station and asked for a ticket to Tuskegee.
The agent, on looking over his guide-books, said to me: "There is no
such place as Tuskegee in the guide-books." I walked away from the
window, thinking that, after all, Tuskegee was some place that existed
only on paper.
Not wishing to give it up, I turned and approached the agent again. He
got out maps and guides, and finally found Tuskegee, but said he could
not sell me a ticket to that place as it was not on a railroad, and that
the best thing for me to do was to purchase a ticket to Chehaw, Ala. So
my ticket read, From Atlanta to Chehaw. On turning to leave the
ticket-agent, I inquired how I could get to Tuskegee from Chehaw. He
replied that he did not know. But I got there, going from Chehaw over a
narrow-gauge road. The engine that pulled the one coach composing the
train was named the "Klu-Klux," a thing I had heard of but had not
understood. That there should be many new things to me in the world was
not to be wondered at, when it was known that I had never before been
out of the county in which I was born except on three occasions, when my
trips extended only to adjoining counties.
It was in the month of March, 1886, while passing through the town of
Tuskegee, that I beheld for the first time, standing at a distance, the
institution that has, in my opinion, done more than any other one agency
to elevate the Negroes of the South. About eight o'clock P. M. I arrived
on the campus and was assigned to a room by the commandant, through the
officer of the day.[2] For about thirty minutes I was alone in the
room, the student body being at devotional exercises--the Tuskegee
Institute holding its daily devotions at night, instead of in the
morning like most schools. This is done on account of the day- and
night-school system, it being impossible to get all the students of the
school together except at night after the night-school session.
While sitting and thinking of home, of the past, and of the future, I
took out my pocketbook and counted $7.50. Not one cent more had I, and
as I looked at the money with the thought that $7.50 represented the
entire savings of my life up to that time, gloom and despondency almost
overcame me.
The next morning I went to the Principal's office. From there I went to
be examined, and then again to see the Principal. Mr. Washington
explained that board was charged for at $8 per month, and that my books
would be sold to me at cost. He informed me further that if I entered
night-school I would be able to work out my board and accumulate each
month a balance to be used in paying my expenses when I entered
day-school. I was made to understand that this offer was on condition
that my work and conduct be in every way satisfactory. As the amount of
money I had did not justify me in entering day-school, I matriculated as
a night-school student. The blacksmith-shop being short of students, I
was assigned to this division of industry.
During the remaining part of the year, and the following summer, I
worked in the shop ten hours each day, except Sundays, and devoted about
two hours and a half at night to study and recitations. It is no easy
task, during warm weather in Alabama, for one to work ten hours a day
and spend two and a half hours at night studying in a room lighted by
several large lamps suspended from the ceiling. Yet this is what
hundreds of poor boys and girls have done at Tuskegee. Hundreds still
attend the night-school, but electric lights have taken the place of the
large oil-lamps. Tuskegee is now more modern than it was when I was a
student there. Barrels and boxes are no longer used in the raw state for
furniture, as was largely the case at that time. Day-students were
required to work one school-day each week and every other Saturday. I
was a student nearly five years, counting the time when I was a
night-student.
After I entered day-school it was necessary that I should work not only
on my regular work-days and two Saturdays each month, but whenever
there was work to be done and I could find time in which to do it.
During my entire life at Tuskegee I worked every Saturday except three.
I was not long at Tuskegee before an indescribable force began to have
its influence upon me. Whatever this power may be called, it was both
refining and energizing. People who know the school and have been there
and know of its influence, call this force "the Tuskegee spirit." This
spirit, to the student possessing a spark of manhood, is irresistible.
The change in a student at Tuskegee is not sudden, nor is it wrought by
any one element. Things that may seem small when taken separately, are
invaluable when considered in the aggregate.
At Tuskegee one's attention is constantly called to little things. It
was a habit of mine, I regret to say, to give little or no thought to my
hat being on my head when I was in any of the boys' dormitories, or when
passing through the halls of the buildings containing the class-rooms.
My attention was finally called to this habit by one of the lady
teachers. Passing me one day in the hall, she said: "Canty, you have a
habit of wearing your hat through the halls. It is a very bad habit."
When I entered Tuskegee I had not worn a night-shirt since I was a
child. Here it was soon impressed upon me that sleeping in a night-shirt
was a sign of cleanliness, of civilization. If there is any place where
cleanliness is regarded and practised as one of God's first laws, that
place is Tuskegee.
One day Mr. Washington sent for me to come to his office. I received the
message with fear and trembling. I had, before this time, had but one
opportunity to speak to Mr. Washington, and then only for a few minutes
upon the day following my arrival. On my way to the office I wondered if
any rule of the institution had been violated by me. Though I had been
there only three or four weeks, I knew a request for a student to report
at the Principal's office meant that he was to be given notice of
imminent punishment, or consulted upon some matter of vital interest.
When I entered the office, Mr. Washington asked me to write to two or
three worthy young men at my home and inquire if they desired a chance
to work their way through school. Several days had passed when I
received an answer from one of the young men to whom I wrote. It so
happened that on the day the letter was received I met Mr. Washington
on his way to his office, and said, "Mr. Washington [drawing the letter
from my pocket], I have received a letter from--" Here my first sentence
was cut short by Mr. Washington forcibly gesticulating and saying, "Come
to the office; come to the office and see me there." That one lecture on
business methods impressed me in a way that a chapter of this length
could not have done.
One day I closed a door with considerable force, which attracted the
attention of one of the teachers. The teacher, in my presence, again
opened the door and gently closed it, noiselessly and without a word. I
have never since forgotten the proper way in which to open and close
doors. Little details are big essentials in the rounding out of
character. They show the influence of the "Tuskegee spirit." But, after
all, this spirit would not be so irresistible in its influence for good
if the teachers and officers of the institution were not the embodiment
and living example of it. Here, as elsewhere and everywhere, example is
more potent than precept.
Every institution has policies peculiarly its own. It is necessary that
every teacher and officer support that policy to make it effective.
Each instructor has a distinct individuality that becomes a part of the
student, in smaller or greater degree, and at the same time gives force
and strength to the policies of the institution. Though I felt the
influence of every one of the thirty-odd teachers then at Tuskegee, the
individuality of some of these made a very great impression on me. I
remember Mr. W. D. Wilson as a very quiet and effective disciplinarian.
Mr. Warren Logan, the treasurer, has the ability to teach the student
the value of a dollar by making him sacrifice almost beyond the point of
endurance. At the same time, with a smile and a cheerful disposition, he
would make the student feel that his burden was light. Through the
kindness and special interest manifested in me by Mr. M. T. Driver, who
was in charge of wheelwrighting and blacksmithing, I made rapid progress
at my trade. Miss Adella H. Hunt, who has since become the wife of
Treasurer Logan, was then a teacher who had the faculty of touching a
responsive chord in a student. Mrs. Booker T. Washington, then Miss
Margaret J. Murray, impressed me very much. Strong and resourceful in
dealing with students, she always won the best that was in them. My
student-days were almost at an end when she came to Tuskegee.
[Illustration: STUDENTS CANNING FRUIT.]
I shall ever feel grateful to Mr. J. H. Washington for the encouragement
he gave me. Being superintendent of industries, he was then, as he is
now, in constant touch with every male student. He is a believer in, and
a firm advocate of, steady, thorough, earnest work, and is quick to see,
appreciate, and encourage the smallest degree of ability shown by any
student. No time seemed too valuable for him to give in trying to
advance a student in his work. I might add here that the teachers here
named are, with two exceptions, among the pioneers in the building of
the school.
Mr. Booker T. Washington's personality is the great thing at Tuskegee,
and every student who goes there feels the strength of the man's rugged
individuality. "Mr. B. T." is an affectionate term used by the students,
but it springs from an indescribable, spontaneous feeling of love and
veneration. His Sunday evening talks to the students are to me like the
Book of Proverbs, always timely, encouraging, and applicable to the
affairs of every-day life. It is from these family talks that the
students learn, as they never have before, the beauty that lies in real,
every-day Christianity, and in living a real and simple life. It is
from these talks that the students learn so much of the great heart and
center of the institution. Mr. Washington still delivers Sunday evening
talks when at school, and they are published in the school's weekly
paper, The Tuskegee Student. Graduates throughout the country eagerly
read these talks with the same interest and pleasure with which they
listened to them while in school.