1896, I started straight for my home, Meridian, Miss.
For six years, as a student, I had been at Tuskegee and under its
influences; now I had only my conscience to dictate to me and to keep me
straight. Feeling that I could not do much good at Meridian, I started
for Texas, having had a position promised me.
I reached Mobile, Ala., while en route, and heard that Miss Mary
Clinton, previously mentioned, was in Tampa, Fla. Feeling that she still
had some interest in me, I again decided to go to her for advice.
I reached the city of Tampa with but a small sum in my pocket. The town
was undergoing a "boom," and I was certain that it would not be long
before I would be earning something, but, to my disappointment, I found
about thirty men looking for every job in sight. After much wearying
search I became thoroughly convinced that Tampa was too large a city not
to give me something to do besides "looking up into the air." Finally,
one rainy morning I secured work at a freight-house.
It was my lot to go first up the wet, steep, and slippery gang-plank.
Not being used to such a task, I fell, the truck with 350 pounds
narrowly escaping me. I got up and made a second attempt to carry my
load, and with success. I had been there two months when the agent
wanted some new shelves built in the storehouse. He told one of his
employees to go for a carpenter. He replied, "This man Calhoun can do
any such work you want done." The agent had me get my tools and do the
work. A few days afterward he wanted a first-class cook to prepare and
serve a special Christmas dinner. The same employee told him, "Calhoun
can do it."
The motto of my class was, "We Conquer by Labor."
On April 29, 1897, both Miss Clinton and myself were called to a school
in South Carolina, and in a simple way, with $50 saved, we married and
boarded the train for our new field of labor. After giving up our work
and reaching Sanford, 125 miles away, we received a letter asking us to
defer our coming until the following October.
This was a very, very sad disappointment and trial to us. It was two
weeks before the State examinations would be held. We prepared as best
we could, and as a result of the examination we were sent to Eatonville,
Fla., to take charge of the public school there. Eatonville is a Negro
town with colored officers, a colored postmaster, and colored merchants.
There is not a single white person living within the incorporated city;
it promises to be a unique community. It is situated near the center of
Orange county, six miles from Orlando, the county seat, and is two miles
from the Seaboard Air-Line Railroad, and one and one-half miles from the
Atlantic Coast Line Railroad.
It was said by the late Bishop H. B. Whipple, of Wisconsin--whose winter
home for a number of years was a half mile from this place--who had
helped the people of this community, and who was a constant helper and
adviser to my wife and me in our work until his death, that you might
travel the whole State over and not find a more healthy place. We were
here but a few days when we decided that this was the place for us to
begin putting into practise the lessons taught us at Tuskegee. We felt
that we wanted to do something toward helping our people. We decided to
cast our lot permanently at Eatonville.
Our first "industrial" service was done with the aid of the school
children: we cleaned the street of tin cans and other rubbish.
We found the lessons in economy which we had received at Tuskegee very
valuable to us at this trying time. We felt that if we would properly
impress the lessons most needed we should own a home, a cow, some
chickens, a horse, and a garden; we felt that there should be tangible
ownership on the part of the people of some of these things, at any
rate.
These things we started to get as soon as possible. We wanted to teach
the people by example.
After talking in a general way for some days of the value of industrial
education, coupled with that of intelligent class-room instruction, Mrs.
Calhoun succeeded in getting four girls to come to her home for sewing
lessons. That was the first step.
Incidentally, we heard of the philanthropic instincts of a gentleman,
Mr. E. C. Hungerford, living at Chester, Conn., who had conditionally
offered to another school twenty acres of land, and whose offer was not
met. I wrote to him asking if he would give us the land. He replied that
he would be glad to give us forty acres if we would use it for school
purposes.
On February 24, 1899, having the deed in hand, a board of trustees was
selected, and, with the aid of nine men who cleared one and one-half
acres of land while their wives furnished the dinner, we started what is
now the Robert C. Hungerford Industrial School. The new school now owns
280 acres of land secured as follows: From Mr. and Mrs. E. C.
Hungerford, 160 acres; from Mr. and Mrs. T. W. Cleavland, 40 acres; from
Mrs. Nancy B. Hungerford, 40 acres; by purchase, an additional 40 acres.
The school has two dormitories, Booker T. Washington Hall, the J. W.
Alfred Cluett Memorial Hall, and six other buildings used for shops,
barn, and dining-room. The total value of the property, clear of all
indebtedness, is $22,445. We teach the boys blacksmithing,
wheelwrighting, carpentry, agriculture, stock-raising, poultry-raising,
and truck-gardening; the girls receive instruction in dressmaking, plain
sewing, cooking, laundering, millinery, basketry, and housekeeping. We
give no industry at the expense of the literary work.
The academic department covers a useful course of the English branches.
The moral, religious, industrial, and financial influence of the school
upon the community, as well as upon the students who have attended, who
come from many counties in the State, has grown steadily as the years
have come and gone. The school has at present forty-five young people in
the boarding department, including seven teachers, three of whom have
come from Tuskegee; a large enrolment of students from the immediate
community and from the surrounding territory.
I have not said very much regarding the difficulties, the struggles, to
plant this work, but I am glad to say that from the beginning we have
had the friendliest support and advice from all the white people of this
section, officials and citizens alike.
I owe much of my success in the work here to the cheerful and freely
given counsel at all times of Hon. W. L. Palmer, Representative in the
State Legislature, and to the members of the Board of Public Instruction
of this (Orange) county.
The colored people have had little to give in cash, but have been most
liberal in their contributions of labor. They have been willing to help
themselves.
My constant, my most earnest desire is to prove myself worthy of my
opportunities, that I may continue to be a worthy representative of
Tuskegee. I feel that I owe all that I am, all that I can hope to be, to
the training of my mother, to the constant help and counsel of my wife,
and to Tuskegee, my Tuskegee, from which I have received so many lessons
that have been of incalculable help to me. I look back to my lessons in
carpentry, as well as to all the others, with gratitude for the
thoroughness insisted upon in all directions. I was rescued from a life
of aimlessness, and put in the way of doing something of good for my
fellows.
XVII
THE EVOLUTION OF A SHOEMAKER
BY CHARLES L. MARSHALL
I was born in the town of Henderson, State of Kentucky, January 1, 1867.
My father and mother were both slaves. My father rendered service during
the Civil War as a Union soldier.
As early as I can remember there was in Henderson a public free school
for colored children. In 1872 there came to our town a young man from
Louisville, Ky., John K. Mason by name, to take charge of the school.
How he secured his education I never learned, but that he devoted his
life to the uplift of his race is everywhere in that section clearly in
evidence. Unfortunately, I was not permitted as a boy to go to school,
but became a factory lad instead; for, almost before I was old enough to
begin my education, I was put to work in a tobacco factory, and there I
remained. From childhood to manhood I think I spent, all told, not more
than three years in school.
Somehow I had a faint idea of the value of education, and manifested a
desire for learning by securing the services of a young man, whose
country-school term had expired, to give me lessons at night when not
otherwise engaged. He was quite a "society" man, so that my
school-nights were few in number.
While my father did not provide for my education, he was himself an
industrious man and provided that I should not be idle. Each year, when
the tobacco season was over, I had regular employment in a cooper-shop
with my father, and I learned to make barrels and hogsheads. This trade
I found to be quite valuable, for before I was twenty-one years of age I
was able to demand wages of two dollars a day as a cooper.
Quite incidentally I heard of the work being done at Tuskegee by
Principal Booker T. Washington and the opportunity offered there to get
an education. I at once applied for admission. I received a letter from
the Principal admitting me to school in the autumn of 1889, when I was
twenty-two years of age. I did not enter the school, however, until
1890. I registered as a night-school student and asked to be assigned to
the carpenter-shop, as that seemed more in line with coopering. This
division was so crowded that I was forced to take shoemaking instead. At
this trade I worked two years and attended night-school. At the end of
this period I resolved to go to North Alabama and work in the coal-mines
to get money for clothing, books, and to help me along with my expenses
when the money earned at Tuskegee should run out. Realizing that every
dollar in my school life would count, I decided to live most cheaply,
even cooking for myself. In the end, following this method, I had more
money with which to return to school. I worked all day and returned to
work again the same night, that I might not lose the prize of education,
the pursuit of which I kept daily before me.
Somewhere I heard this quotation, "If anybody else can, I can, too."
With this sentiment I continued to push ahead, until in May, 1895, I
completed the course of study with the first honor of my class.
During my stay at Tuskegee I made such a record in the shoemaking-shop
that my instructor was anxious to have me take an assistant's place with
him. This I refused, preferring to start a career in Texas, of which I
had heard such glowing accounts. In the months of June, July, and a
part of August, 1895, I was employed with others making the shoes which
constituted a part of Tuskegee's Industrial Exhibit at the Atlanta
Exposition. At the solicitation of a number of persons living at
Mineola, Tex., I decided, even before graduation, to begin my life-work
at that place. Reaching Mineola, I found a fight on hand between the
teacher of the colored school and the patrons of the school. Immediately
on learning this fact I withdrew from the contest, notwithstanding the
fact that my cash earnings were almost exhausted and those who had
invited me there seemed unable to guarantee me the position. An incident
occurred at Mineola which I shall never forget. It was the second
meeting with Prof. H. T. Kealing, then president of Paul Quinn College,
Waco, Tex., but now editor of the African Methodist Episcopal Church
Review, an ambitious magazine publication of the great African Methodist
Episcopal Church. The occasion was a Quarterly Conference of the African
Methodist Episcopal Church at Mineola, and Professor Kealing was there
to deliver a lecture. Our first meeting was at Tuskegee while I was a
student there during my Senior year. In that far-away country I was very
glad to see some one I knew, and after the meeting I was not long in
making myself known to Professor Kealing. He heard my story, praised the
stand I had taken, and expressed regrets that he was not able to offer
me a place in Paul Quinn College. He suggested that I take a letter of
introduction to Dr. I. B. Scott, then president of Wiley University,
Marshall, Tex., but now a Bishop in the Methodist Episcopal Church, the
first colored man to be elected to the episcopacy of that great church.
At Wiley I was kindly received by Bishop Scott, and entered into a
contract with him to teach shoemaking for my board and the proceeds of
the shop. I entered into the spirit of Wiley with such earnestness that
at the close of my first month I was made a salaried teacher at $35 a
month, and before the session was half gone my salary had been raised to
$40. I completed the year's work with perfect satisfaction to all
concerned. What I enjoyed most of all during my year at Wiley was the
esteem and personal friendship of Bishop Scott. His letters addressed to
me upon the eve of my resignation, the esteem he placed on my work while
in the employ of the University, and his entreaties that I should not
tender my resignation so embarrassed me that for a time I was unable to
tell what I should do. I felt I owed it to Tuskegee to go wherever
Principal Washington thought my services were most desired. On two
occasions since I left there Bishop Scott has taken occasion to voice
his approval of my conduct while at Wiley: once before the East
Tennessee Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and in October,
1902, to my students, when he came to visit me at the Christiansburg
Institute.
About the first of May, 1896, I received a telegram from Principal
Washington requesting me to allow him to present my name to the Board of
Managers of the Christiansburg Industrial Institute for the
principalship then vacant. I agreed, and was elected to the place.
Before entering upon the duties of my new position at Christiansburg I
made a visit to Tuskegee, for the purpose of gaining information as to
the scope of my work and as to how I should best proceed.
After spending nearly two months at Tuskegee, I made my way to my new
field of labor in Virginia, reaching Christiansburg the 15th of July,
1896. The appearance of things at Christiansburg did not come up to my
expectations, nor was my reception in accordance with what I had
expected. Under the conditions which then existed, one of more
experience than I had would have expected just about such a reception as
I received. The people seemed almost crazed that a Tuskegee graduate
should be planning to engraft the Tuskegee Idea in that section--and
this, too, in spite of Hampton. In my effort to carry out the plans
sanctioned by Dr. Washington, I soon realized I was facing opposition
well-nigh insurmountable. This was due to their misunderstanding of Dr.
Washington, and of what Tuskegee really stands for. As far as possible,
I gathered around me men and women who, like myself, were thoroughly
imbued with the Tuskegee Idea, and together we pushed ahead with our
plans.
From the first I was given to understand that the desire of the Board
was that there should be at Christiansburg a school similar to Hampton
and Tuskegee; though smaller, it should be no less perfect in what it
was designed to do. To reach this end the school had to undergo the
change from a distinctly literary school to one with both literary and
industrial branches; from a regular, ordinary school to one with a
boarding department. My plans met the approval of all concerned, yet
there was little idea on my part as to the amount of money and labor
necessary to put them into operation. The course of study was rearranged
to suit the new conditions, and five industries were installed. A
circular setting forth the purposes of the school was published and
scattered abroad. We then thought that this was nearing the end of the
great task, when in reality we had hardly begun.
[Illustration: GIRLS GARDENING.]
The Board of Managers did not oppose the boarding department, yet they
did not sanction it to the extent of supporting it.
I had confidence in my plans and was willing to start alone. This step
was far more perplexing than I had at first imagined. As the time drew
near for the opening of school, I was aware that for the boarding
department I had to find a suitable house and procure necessary
furniture. In the basement of the school building was some lumber which
had been used for a platform. With the assistance of one of the teachers
this stage-lumber was converted into five bedsteads and three small
tables. I succeeded in getting one of the merchants to credit us for
several lamps. With this furniture, several stools, an equal number of
dry-goods boxes, and a few kitchen utensils, the boarding department of
the institution was started. Notwithstanding the scanty arrangement, I
am glad to say that for the most part there was but little or no
complaint.
Sufficient money was appropriated by the Board of Managers to provide
for the purchase of necessary working tools for the added industrial
classes.
I kept our friends in the North reminded of our need of additional land.
The industrial-school idea with a department of agriculture was not
succeeding well on a half-acre of ground. After two years of patient
toil this question of land was recognized as a necessity, and
accordingly two friends undertook to solicit subscriptions to the amount
of $5,000 with which to purchase a farm of 100 acres, two horses, a set
of harness, a wagon, and a plow. By this time spring was well on and we
were planning to make a crop. In a runaway one of the school horses was
badly injured. The purchase of the farm, etc., had about exhausted our
Northern resources and the school was in debt. To my credit in the Bank
of Christiansburg was a small sum of money, with which I purchased a
horse. The crop that year was fairly successful.
Before taking possession of the farm, it was understood that instead of
the proceeds of the farm going toward maintaining or paying teachers'
salaries, the money should go toward building up the soil, which was
well run down, and that we should devote all possible effort in the
direction of restoring the soil to its once high state of fertilization.
Owning this farm, we had the "Big House" where the master once lived,
and several of the slave cabins, which still remain, where the slaves
resided. Hundreds of slaves, I have been told, tilled this soil in the
days long ago, when its productive power was greater than that of any
estate in this whole section.
It is a remarkable and significant fact that where the master once lived
is a recitation building for colored boys and girls, and where the
slaves once huddled around the flickering light of a pine-knot young
Negro students are quartered daily, preparing for the duties of the
morrow.
In building up the school to its present position, five persons, almost
from the very beginning, have figured most prominently, viz.: E. A. Long
and his wife, Miss Willie Mae Griffin, the writer and his wife--all
Tuskegee graduates. It is needless that I remark here that the burdens
borne by the men have been in no sense heavier than those borne by these
faithful women. The road along which we have traveled has not been, by
any means, a smooth one. We all had been toilers at Tuskegee and knew
well how to face the duties of life. This was decidedly in our favor. I
was the oldest of the company and perhaps had seen more of hardship than
the others; it therefore fell to my lot to give courage to the others
when hope was all but gone.
Some time previous to our taking possession of the farm, some of the
occupants had sown about half an acre in a kind of radish commonly known
hereabout as "pig radish." It must be remembered that each year, after
the eight months' academic work was over, we received no money from any
source whatever. Paying the salaries of teachers who were to leave for
the summer and meeting other demands of the institution always exhausted
the school's treasury before the summer season began. With a "cropping"
season of four months ahead, no money, no source from which any could be
expected, the nice tender "pig radish," year after year, became our
food-supply for the early part of the summer at least. Thus, while
pushing the operations of the farm, rebuilding the soil by means of
turning under green crops, fertilizers, etc., "pig-radish" greens,
western side meat, and corn-meal constituted our chief diet. Beef came
to us as a luxury twice a week. The work was divided so that E. A. Long,
our treasurer, was gardener, I was farmer, our wives and Miss Griffin
were matrons and cooks. The 4th of July, 1900, found the work of the
farm in such a prosperous condition that it was decided to celebrate the
event with a cake and some ice-cream, for by this time we owned a cow.
One peculiar thing happened about the time we purchased this farm. We
were teaching a graded school which we were eager to turn into a
boarding institution. The pupils and patrons were in perfect accord with
the faculty, but as soon as the fact became known that we had purchased
a large tract of land and would endeavor to build a boarding and
industrial school thereon, the members of the faculty at once became
objects of scorn to almost the entire colored population. There were at
that time enrolled in the school 240 children. Within less than a month
more than 100 had dropped out. When school closed in May there were only
60 children attending.
We went about our duties, however, without complaint. While we worked,
Nature also worked for us. Vegetation flourished wherever seed were
sown; the trees bore a harvest of apples such as I have not seen since,
and all went well.
As I look back over those years of trial, of privation, of sacrifice, I
find they were conditions precedent to laying an enduring foundation.
Our hope has been to establish a school where poor but earnest boys and
girls can secure an education. It was through our efforts, first of all,
that we were able to prove to the supporters of the school that such an
institution could live and grow and do great and lasting good for those
it is designed to help. Year by year the school has grown. Year by year
the people of the community realize the sincerity of my teachers and
give them hearty support. Patience, toil, trust in God, and enterprise
are the elements which are fast putting this work on its feet.
Every person who visits the school sees earnestness manifested on farm,
in shop, in class, about the grounds, everywhere, and goes away a
sincere friend. Not alone do we have our visitor's friendship, but he
tells the simple story to others and the number of friends increases.
Mr. R. C. Bedford, of Beloit, Wis., after visiting the school in
January, 1905, took occasion to address a gentleman in the North who had
interested himself in raising funds for the school, in the following
language: "I have not visited the school for three years. Great changes
have taken place since then. The good there being accomplished is simply
immeasurable. Mr. Marshall and Mr. Long work together in such perfect
harmony as to constitute a force of singular directness and power. I
think the work is carried on most economically, and such a clear and
full account of all expenditures is given to the public that you must
have the utmost confidence of all your friends."
A few years ago it was difficult for our Treasurer to raise $1,875. The
raising of funds for institutions is always difficult, but it is not as
hard now to raise $6,000 to $8,000 as it was to raise $1,875 a few years
ago.
Mr. E. A. Long, our treasurer, whose faithful assistance I have had in
every effort to develop the school, was with me, embarrassed by a debt
of the boarding department of more than $600. This condition grew, in a
large measure, out of the fact that we attempted to supply students'
work on the farm to pay their expenses, and the proceeds of the farm
were expended as far as possible in the direction of building up the
soil. In the fall of 1902 the board of managers assumed the
responsibility of the boarding department, paid all indebtedness, and
to-day the school is operated on a cash basis.