Two or three years before the outbreak of the Civil War a little black
baby was born in the slave quarters on a Virginia plantation. This was
not a surprising event and nobody except the mother paid it any
attention. Even the father of the child ignored it. For some years
the boy "just growed," after the manner of Topsy. Nobody helped him.
But the boy differed in one way from his thoughtless little playmates.
There was a mysterious something in him that drove him eagerly to avail
himself of any opportunity for self-improvement that came along. If
the opportunity, as generally happened, _failed_ to "come along," he
went after it with all his might and main.
He devoted his life unreservedly to the service of his coloured
brethren, and through his own bitter experience he knew full well the
best way in which to help them.
From "Up From Slavery," by Booker T. Washington. Doubleday, Page &
Co., 1901.
I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia. I am
not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth, but at any
rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at some time. As
nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born near a crossroads
post-office called Hale's Ford and the year was 1858 or 1859. I do not
know the month or the day. The earliest impressions I can now recall
are of the plantation and the slave quarters, the latter being the part
of the plantation where the slaves had their cabins.
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable, desolate,
and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however, not because my
owners were especially cruel, for they were not, as compared with many
others. I was born in a typical log-cabin, about fourteen by sixteen
feet square. In this cabin I lived with my mother and a brother and
sister till after the Civil War, when we were all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and even
later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured people of the
tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my ancestors on my
mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of the slaveship while
being conveyed from Africa to America. I have been unsuccessful in
securing any information that would throw any accurate light upon the
history of my family, beyond my mother. She, I remember, had a
half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of slavery not very much
attention was given to family history and family records--that is,
black family records. My mother, I suppose, attracted the attention of
a purchaser who was afterward my owner and hers. Her addition to the
slave family attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a new
horse or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do
not even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he was
a white man who lived on one of the nearby plantations. Whoever he
was, I never heard of his taking the least interest in me or providing
in any way for my rearing. But I do not find especial fault with him.
He was simply another unfortunate victim of the institution which the
Nation unhappily had engrafted upon it at that time. . . .
I cannot remember having slept in a bed until after our family was
declared free by the Emancipation Proclamation. Three children--John,
my older brother, Amanda, my sister, and myself--had a pallet on the
dirt floor, or, to be more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of
filthy rags laid upon the dirt floor.
From the time that I can remember anything, almost every day of my life
has been occupied in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be
a more useful man had I had time for sports. During the period that I
spent in slavery I was not large enough to be of much service, still I
was occupied most of the time in cleaning the yards, carrying water to
the men in the fields, or going to the mill, to which I used to take
the corn, once a week, to be ground. The mill was about three miles
from the plantation. This work I always dreaded. The heavy bag of
corn would be thrown across the back of the horse, and the corn divided
about evenly on each side; but in some way, almost without exception,
on these trips the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and
would fall off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not
strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to wait,
sometimes for many hours, till a chance passerby came along who would
help me out of my trouble. The hours while waiting for some one were
usually spent in crying. The time consumed in this way made me late in
reaching the mill, and by the time I got my corn ground and reached
home it would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and
often led through dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods
were said to be full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I
had been told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when
he found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late
in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or a
flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I remember on
several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse door with one of my
young mistresses to carry her books. The picture of several dozen boys
and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a deep impression upon
me, and I had the feeling that to get into a schoolhouse and study in
this way would be about the same as getting into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the fact
that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was being
discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was awakened by my
mother kneeling over her children and fervently praying that Lincoln
and his armies might be successful, and that one day she and her
children might be free. . . .
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early
boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together, and
God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a civilized
manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later, meals were
gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get theirs. It was a
piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there. It was a cup of milk at
one time and some potatoes at another. Sometimes a portion of our
family would eat out of the skillet or pot, while some one else would
eat from a tin plate held on the knees, and often using nothing but the
hands with which to hold the food. When I had grown to sufficient
size, I was required to go to the "big house" mealtimes to fan the
flies from the table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by
a pulley. Naturally much of the conversation of the white people
turned upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good
deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young
mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the yard. At
that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the most tempting
and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I then and there
resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of my ambition would be
reached if I could get to the point where I could secure and eat
ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those ladies doing. . . .
The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones. They
had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were about an inch
thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a fearful noise, and
besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was no yielding
to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing them one presented an
exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal that I was
forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing of a flax
shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was common to use
flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax
from which our clothing was made was largely the refuse, which, of
course, was the cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any
torture, except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that
caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first time. It is almost
equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a dozen or
more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pinpoints in contact with his
flesh. Even to this day, I can recall accurately the tortures that I
underwent when putting on one of these garments. The fact that my
flesh was soft and tender added to the pain. But I had no choice. I
had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left to me to
choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering. . . .
Until I had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that
I wore. . . .
From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about anything, I
recall that I had an intense longing to learn to read. I determined
when quite a small child, that, if I accomplished nothing else in life,
I would in some way get enough education to enable me to read common
books and newspapers. Soon after we got settled in some manner in our
new cabin in West Virginia, I induced my mother to get hold of a book
for me. How or where she got it I do not know, but in some way she
procured an old copy of Webster's "blue-back" spelling-book, which
contained the alphabet, followed by such meaningless words as "ab,"
"ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to devour this book, and I think
that it was the first one I ever had in my hands. I had learned from
somebody that the way to begin to read was to learn the alphabet, so I
tried in all the ways I could think of to learn it--all of course
without a teacher, for I could find no one to teach me. At that time
there was not a single member of my race anywhere near us who could
read, and I was too timid to approach any of the white people. In some
way, within a few weeks, I mastered the greater portion of the
alphabet. In all my efforts to learn to read my mother shared fully my
ambition and sympathized with me and aided me in every way that she
could. Though she was totally ignorant, so far as mere book knowledge
was concerned, she had high ambitions for her children, and a large
fund of good, hard common sense which seemed to enable her to meet and
master every situation. If I have done anything in life worth
attention, I feel sure that I inherited the disposition from my
mother. . . .
The opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley brought to me one of
the keenest disappointments that I ever experienced. I had been
working in a salt furnace for several months, and my stepfather had
discovered that I had a financial value, and so, when the school
opened, he decided that he could not spare me from my work. This
decision seemed to cloud my every ambition. The disappointment was
made all the more severe by reason of the fact that my place of work
was where I could see the happy children passing to and from school,
morning and afternoons. Despite this disappointment, however, I
determined that I would learn something, anyway. I applied myself with
greater earnestness than ever to the mastering of what was in the
"blue-back" speller.
My mother sympathized with me in my disappointment, and sought to
comfort me in all the ways she could, and to help me find a way to
learn. After a while I succeeded in making arrangements with the
teacher to give me some lessons at night, after the day's work was
done. These night lessons were so welcome that I think I learned more
at night than the other children did during the day. My own
experiences in the night school gave me faith in the night-school idea,
with which, in after years, had to do both at Hampton and Tuskegee.
But my boyish heart was still set upon going to the day school, and I
let no opportunity slip to push my case. Finally I won, and was
permitted to go to the school in the day for a few months, with the
understanding that I was to rise early in the morning and work in the
furnace till nine o'clock, and return immediately after school closed
in the afternoon for at least two more hours of work.
The schoolhouse was some distance from the furnace, and as I had to
work till nine o'clock, and the school opened at nine, I found myself
in a difficulty. School would always be begun before I reached it, and
sometimes my class had recited. To get around this difficulty I
yielded to a temptation for which most people, I suppose, will condemn
me; but since it is a fact, I might as well state it. I have great
faith in the power and influence of facts. It is seldom that anything
is permanently gained by holding back a fact. There was a large clock,
in a little office in the furnace. This clock, of course, all the
hundred or more workmen depended upon to regulate their hours of
beginning and ending the day's work. I got the idea that the way for
me to reach school on time was to move the clock hands from half-past
eight up to nine o'clock mark. This I found myself doing morning after
morning, till the furnace "boss" discovered that something was wrong,
and locked the clock in a case. I did not mean to inconvenience
anybody. I simply meant to reach that schoolhouse in time.
When, however, I found myself at the school for the first time, I also
found myself confronted with two other difficulties. In the first
place, I found that all of the other children wore hats or caps on
their heads, and I had neither hat nor cap. In fact, I do not remember
that up to the time of going to school I had ever worn any kind of
covering upon my head, nor do I recall that either I or anybody else
had even thought anything about the need of covering for my head. But,
of course when I saw how all the other boys were dressed, I began to
feel quite uncomfortable. As usual, I put the case before my mother,
and she explained to me that she had no money with which to buy a
"store hat," which was a rather new institution at that time among the
members of my race and was considered quite the thing for young and old
to own, but that she would find a way to help me out of the difficulty.
She accordingly got two pieces of "homespun" (jeans) and sewed them
together, and I was soon the proud possessor of my first cap. . . .
My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or, rather, a name.
From the time when I could remember anything, I had been called simply
"Booker." Before going to school it had never occurred to me that it
was needful or appropriate to have an additional name. When I heard
the school-roll called, I noticed that all of the children had at least
two names, and some of them indulged in what seemed to me the
extravagance of having three. I was in deep perplexity, because I knew
that the teacher would demand of me at least two names, and I had only
one. By the time the occasion came for the enrolling of my name, an
idea occurred to me which I thought would make me equal to the
situation; and so, when the teacher asked me what my full name was, I
calmly told him "Booker Washington," as if I had been called by that
name all my life; and by that name I have since been known. Later in
my life I found that my mother had given me the name of "Booker
Taliaferro," soon after I was born, but in some way that part of my
name seemed to disappear and for a long while was forgotten, but as
soon as I found out about it I revived it, and, made my full name
"Booker Taliaferro Washington." I think there are not many men in our
country who have had the privilege of naming themselves in the way that
I have. . . .
The time that I was permitted to attend school during the day was
short, and my attendance was irregular. It was not long before I had
to stop attending day school altogether, and devote all of my time
again to work. I resorted to the night school again. In fact, the
greater part of the education I secured in my boyhood was gathered
through the night school after my day's work was done. I had
difficulty often in securing a satisfactory teacher. Sometimes, after
I had secured one to teach me at night, I would find, much to my
disappointment, that the teacher knew but little more than I did.
Often I would have to walk miles at night in order to recite my
night-school lessons. There was never a time in my youth, no matter
how dark and discouraging the days might be, when one resolve did not
continually remain with me, and that was a determination to secure an
education at any cost.
After I had worked in the salt furnace for some time, work was secured
for me in a coal mine which was operated mainly for the purpose of
securing fuel for the salt furnace. . . .
In those days, and later as a young man, I used to try to picture in my
imagination the feelings and ambitions of a white boy with absolutely
no limit placed upon his aspirations and activities. I used to envy
the white boy who had no obstacles placed in the way of his becoming a
congressman, governor, bishop, or President by reason of the accident
of his birth or race. I used to picture the way that I would act under
such circumstances; how I would begin at the bottom and keep rising
until I reached the highest round of success. . . .
One day while at work in the coal mine I happened to overhear two
miners talking about a great school for coloured people somewhere in
Virginia. This was the first time that I had ever heard anything about
any kind of school or college that was more pretentious than the little
coloured school in our town.
In the darkness of the mine I noiselessly crept as close as I could to
the two men who were talking. I heard one tell the other that not only
was the school established for the members of my race, but that
opportunities were provided by which poor but worthy students could
work out all or a part of the cost of board, and at the same time be
taught some trade or industry.
As they went on describing the school, it seemed to me that it must be
the greatest place on earth, and not even Heaven presented more
attractions for me at that time than did the Hampton Normal and
Agricultural Institute in Virginia, about which these men were talking.
I resolved at once to go to that school, although I had no idea where
it was, or how many miles away, or how I was going to reach it; I
remembered only that I was on fire constantly with one ambition, and
that was to go to Hampton. This thought was with me day and
night. . . .
In the fall of 1872 I determined to make an effort to get there,
although, as I have stated, I had no definite idea of the direction in
which Hampton was, or of what it would cost to go there. I do not
think that any one thoroughly sympathized with me in my ambition to go
to Hampton unless it was my mother, and she was troubled with a grave
fear that I was starting out on a "wild-goose chase." At any rate, I
got only a half-hearted consent from her that I might start. The small
amount of money that I had earned had been consumed by my stepfather
and the remainder of the family, with the exception of a very few
dollars, and so I had very little with which to buy clothes and pay my
travelling expenses. . . .
Finally the great day came, and I started for Hampton. I had only a
small, cheap satchel that contained what few articles of clothing I
could get. My mother at the time was rather weak and broken in health.
I hardly expected to see her again, and thus our parting was all the
more sad. She, however, was very brave through it all. At that time
there were no through trains connecting that part of West Virginia with
eastern Virginia. Trains ran only a portion of the way, and the
remainder of the distance was travelled by stage-coaches.
The distance from Maiden to Hampton is about five hundred miles. I had
not been away from home many hours before it began to grow painfully
evident that I did not have enough money to pay my fare to
Hampton. . . .
By walking, begging rides both in wagons and in the cars, in some way,
after a number of days, I reached the city of Richmond, Virginia, about
eighty-two miles from Hampton. When I reached there, tired, hungry,
and dirty; it was late in the night. I had never been in a large city
before, and this rather added to my misery. When I reached Richmond I
was completely out of money. I had not a single acquaintance in the
place, and, being unused to city ways, I did not know where to go. I
applied at several places for lodging, but they all wanted money, and
that was what I did not have. Knowing nothing else better to do, I
walked the streets. In doing this I passed by many food-stands where
fried chicken and half-moon apple pies were piled high and made to
present a most tempting appearance. At that time it seemed to me that
I would have promised all that I expected to possess in the future to
have gotten hold of one of those chicken legs or one of those pies.
But I could not get either of these, nor anything else to eat.
I must have walked the streets till after midnight. At last I became
so exhausted that I could walk no longer. I was tired, I was hungry, I
was everything but discouraged. Just about the time when I reached
extreme physical exhaustion, I came upon a portion of a street where
the board sidewalk was considerably elevated. I waited for a few
minutes, till I was sure that no passersby could see me, and then crept
under the sidewalk and lay for the night upon the ground, with my
satchel of clothing for a pillow. Nearly all night I could hear the
tramp of feet above my head. The next morning I found myself somewhat
refreshed, but I was extremely hungry, because it had been a long time
since I had had sufficient food. As soon as it became light enough for
me to see my surroundings I noticed that I was near a large ship, and
that this ship seemed to be unloading a cargo of pig iron. I went at
once to the vessel and asked the captain to permit me to help unload
the vessel in order to get money for food. The captain, a white man,
who seemed to be kind-hearted, consented. I worked long enough to earn
money for my breakfast, and it seems to me, as I remember it now, to
have been about the best breakfast that I have ever eaten.
My work pleased the captain so well that he told me if I desired I
could continue working for a small amount per day. This I was very
glad to do. I continued working on this vessel for a number of days.
After buying food with the small wages I received there was not much
left to add to the amount I must get to pay my way to Hampton. In
order to economize in every way possible, so as to be sure to reach
Hampton in a reasonable time, I continued to sleep under the same
sidewalk that gave me shelter the first night I was in Richmond. . . .
When I had saved what I considered enough money with which to reach
Hampton, I thanked the captain of the vessel for his kindness, and
started again. Without any unusual occurrence I reached Hampton, with
a surplus of exactly fifty cents with which to begin my education, To
me it had been a long, eventful journey; but the first sight of the
large, three-story brick school building seemed to have rewarded me for
all that I had undergone in order to reach the place. . . .
It seemed to me to be the largest and most beautiful building I had
ever seen. The sight of it seemed to give me new life. I felt that a
new kind of existence had now begun--that life would now have a new
meaning. I felt that I had reached the promised land, and I resolved
to let no obstacle prevent me from putting forth the highest effort to
fit myself to accomplish the most good in the world.
As soon as possible after reaching the grounds of the Hampton Institute
I presented myself before the head teacher for assignment to a class.
Having been so long without proper food, a bath, and change of
clothing, I did not, of course, make a very favourable impression upon
her, and I could see at once that there were doubts in her mind about
the wisdom of admitting me as a student. I felt that I could hardly
blame her if she got the idea that I was a worthless loafer or tramp.
For some time she did not refuse to admit me, neither did she decide in
my favour, and I continued to linger about her, and to impress her in
all the ways I could with my worthiness. In the meantime I saw her
admitting other students, and that added greatly to my discomfort, for
I felt, deep down in my heart, that I could do as well as they, if I
could only get a chance to show her what was in me.
After some hours had passed, the head teacher said to me, "The
adjoining recitation-room needs sweeping. Take the broom and sweep it."
It occurred to me at once that here was my chance. Never did I receive
an order with more delight. I knew that I could sweep, for Mrs.
Ruffner had thoroughly taught me how to do that when I lived with her.
I swept the recitation-room three times. Then I got a dusting-cloth
and I dusted it four times. All the woodwork around the walls, every
bench, table, and desk, I went over four times with my dusting-cloth.
Besides every piece of furniture had been moved and every closet and
corner in the room had been thoroughly cleaned. I had the feeling that
in a large measure my future depended upon the impression I made upon
the teacher in the cleaning of that room. When I was through, I
reported to the head teacher. She was a "Yankee" woman who knew just
where to look for dirt. She went into the room and inspected the floor
and closets; then she took her handkerchief and rubbed it on the
woodwork, about the walls, and over the table and benches. When she
was unable to find one bit of dirt on the floor, or a particle of dust
on any of the furniture, she quietly remarked: "I guess you will do to
enter this institution."
I was one of the happiest souls on earth. The sweeping of that room
was my college examination, and never did any youth pass an examination
for entrance into Harvard or Yale that gave him more genuine
satisfaction. I have passed several examinations since then, but I
have always felt that this was the best one I ever passed. . . .
Life at Hampton was a constant revelation to me; was constantly taking
me into a new world. The matter of having meals at regular hours, or
eating on a tablecloth, using a napkin, the use of the bathtub and of
the toothbrush, as well as the use of sheets upon the bed, were all new
to me. . . .
I sometimes feel that almost the most valuable lesson I got at the
Hampton Institute was in the use and value of the bath.
For some time, while a student at Hampton, I possessed but a single
pair of socks, but when I had worn these till they became soiled, I
would wash them at night and hang them by the fire to dry, so that I
might wear them again the next morning.
The charge for my board at Hampton was ten dollars per month. I was
expected to pay a part of this in cash and to work out the remainder.
To meet this cash payment, as I have stated, I had just fifty cents
when I reached the institution. Aside from a very few dollars that my
brother John was able to send me once in a while, I had no money with
which to pay my board. I was determined from the first to make my work
as janitor so valuable that my services would be indispensable. This I
succeeded in doing to such extent that I was soon informed that I would
be allowed the full cost of my board in return for my work. The cost
of tuition was seventy dollars a year. This, of course, was wholly
beyond my ability to provide. If I had been compelled to pay the
seventy dollars for tuition, in addition to providing for my board, I
would have been compelled to leave the Hampton school. General
Armstrong, however, very kindly got Mr. S. Griffitts Morgan, of New
Bedford, Mass., to defray the cost of my tuition during the whole time
that I was at Hampton. . . .
After having been for a while at Hampton, I found myself in difficulty
because I did not have books and clothing. Usually, however, I got
around the trouble about books by borrowing from those who were more
fortunate than myself. As to clothes, when I reached Hampton I had
practically nothing. Everything that I possessed was in a small hand
satchel. My anxiety about clothing was increased because of the fact
that General Armstrong made a personal inspection of the young men in
ranks, to see that their clothes were clean. Shoes had to be polished,
there must be no buttons off the clothing, and no grease-spots. To
wear one suit of clothes continually, while at work and in the
schoolroom, and at the same time keep it clean, was rather a hard
problem for me to solve. In some way I managed to get on till the
teachers learned that I was in earnest and meant to succeed, and then
some of them were kind enough to see that I was partly supplied with
second-hand clothing that had been sent in barrels from the North.
These barrels proved a blessing to hundreds of poor but deserving
students. Without them I question whether I should ever have gotten
through Hampton. . . .
I was completely out of money when I graduated. In company with other
Hampton students, I secured a place as a table waiter in a summer hotel
in Connecticut, and managed to borrow enough money with which to get
there. I had not been in this hotel long before I found out that I
knew practically nothing about waiting on a hotel table. The head
waiter, however, supposed that I was an accomplished waiter. He soon
gave me charge of a table at which there sat four or five wealthy and
rather aristocratic people. My ignorance of how to wait upon them was
so apparent that they scolded me in such a severe manner that I became
frightened and left their table, leaving them sitting there without
food. As a result of this I was reduced from the position of waiter to
that of a dish-carrier.
But I determined to learn the business of waiting, and did so within a
few weeks, and was restored to my former position. I have had the
satisfaction of being a guest in this hotel several times since I was a
waiter there.
At the close of the hotel season I returned to my former home in
Malden, and was elected to teach the coloured school at that place.
This was the beginning of one of the happiest periods of my life. I
now felt that I had the opportunity to help the people of my home town
to a higher life. I felt from the first that mere book education was
not all that the young people of that town needed. I began my work at
eight o'clock in the morning, and, as a rule, it did not end until ten
o'clock at night. In addition to the usual routine of teaching, I
taught the pupils to comb their hair, and to keep their hands and faces
clean, as well as their clothing. I gave special attention to teaching
them the proper use of the toothbrush and the bath.
In all my teaching I have watched carefully the influence of the
toothbrush, and I am convinced that there are few single agencies of
civilization that are more far-reaching.
There were so many of the older boys and girls in the town, as well as
men and women, who had to work in the daytime but still were craving an
opportunity for some education, that I soon opened a night school.
From the first, this was crowded every night, being about as large as
the school that I taught in the day. The efforts of some of the men
and women, who in many cases were over fifty years of age, to learn,
were in some cases very pathetic.
My day- and night-school work was not all that I undertook. I
established a small reading-room and a debating society. On Sundays I
taught two Sunday-schools, one in the town of Malden in the afternoon,
and the other in the morning at a place three miles distant from
Malden. In addition to this, I gave private lessons to several young
men whom I was fitting to send to the Hampton Institute. Without
regard to pay and with little thought of it, I taught any one who
wanted to learn, anything that I could teach him. I was supremely
happy in the opportunity of being able to assist somebody else. I did
receive, however, a small salary from the public fund for my work as a
public school teacher. . . .
In May, 1881, near the close of my first year in teaching the night
school at Hampton Institute, in a way that I had not dared expect, the
opportunity opened for me to begin my life-work. One night in the
chapel, after the usual chapel exercises were over, General Armstrong
referred to the fact that he had received a letter from some gentlemen
in Alabama asking him to recommend some one to take charge of what was
to be a normal school for the coloured people in the little town of
Tuskegee in that State. These gentlemen seemed to take it for granted
that no coloured man suitable for the position could be secured, and
they were expecting the General to recommend a white man for the place.
The next day General Armstrong sent for me to come to his office, and,
much to my surprise, asked me if I thought I could fill the position in
Alabama. I told him that I would be willing to try. Accordingly he
wrote to the people who had applied to him for the information, that he
did not know of any white man to suggest, but if they would be willing
to take a coloured man, he had one whom he could recommend. In this
letter he gave them my name.
Several days passed before anything more was heard about the matter.
Some time afterward, one Sunday evening during the chapel exercises, a
messenger came in and handed the General a telegram. At the end of the
exercises he read the telegram to the school. In substance, these were
its words: "Booker T. Washington will suit us. Send him at once. . . ."
I reached Tuskegee early in June, 1881. The first month I spent in
finding accommodations for the school, and in travelling through
Alabama, examining into the actual life of the people, especially in
the country districts, and in getting the school advertised among the
class of people that I wanted to have attend it. The most of my
travelling was done over the country road, with a mule and a cart or a
mule and a buggy wagon for conveyance. I ate and slept with the people
in their little cabins. I saw their farms, their schools, their
churches. Since in the case of the most of these visits there had been
no notice given in advance that a stranger was expected, I had the
advantage of seeing the real, everyday life of the people. . . .
I confess that what I saw during my month of travel and investigation
left me with a very heavy heart. The work to be done in order to lift
these people up seemed almost beyond accomplishing. I was only one
person, and it seemed to me that the little effort which I could put
forth could go such a short distance toward bringing about results. I
wondered if I could accomplish anything, and if it were worth while for
me to try.
On one thing I felt more strongly convinced than ever, after spending
this month in seeing the actual life of the coloured people, and that
was that, in order to lift them up, something must be done more than
merely to imitate New England education as it then existed. I saw more
clearly than ever the wisdom of the system which General Armstrong had
inaugurated at Hampton. To take the children of such people as I had
been among for a month, and each day give them a few hours of mere book
education, I felt would be almost a waste of time.
After consultation with the citizens of Tuskegee, I set July 4, 1881,
as the day for the opening of the school in the little shanty and
church which had been secured for its accommodation. The white people,
as well as the coloured, were greatly interested in the starting of the
new school, and the opening day was looked forward to with much earnest
discussion. There were not a few white people in the vicinity of
Tuskegee who looked with some disfavour upon the project. They
questioned its value to the coloured people, and had a fear that it
might result in bringing about trouble between the races. Some had the
feeling that in proportion as the Negro received education, in the same
proportion would his value decrease as an economic factor in the State.
These people feared the result of education would be that the Negroes
would leave the farms, and that it would be difficult to secure them
for domestic service.
The white people who questioned the wisdom of starting this new school
had in their minds pictures of what was called an educated Negro, with
a high hat, imitation gold eye-glasses, a showy walking-stick, kid
gloves, fancy boots, and what not--in a word, a man who was determined
to live by his wits. It was difficult for these people to see how
education would produce any other kind of a coloured man. . . .
On the morning that the school opened thirty students reported for
admission. I was the only teacher. The students were about equally
divided between the sexes. . . . The greater part of the thirty were
public school teachers, and some of them were nearly forty years of age.
At the end of the first six weeks a new and rare face entered the
school as a co-teacher. This was Miss Olivia A. Davidson, who later
became my wife. . . .
Miss Davidson and I began consulting as to the future of the school
from the first. The students were making progress in learning books
and in developing their minds; but it became apparent at once, that, if
we were to make any permanent impression upon those who had come to us
for training, we must do something besides teach them mere books. The
students had come from homes where they had had no opportunities for
lessons which would teach them how to care for their bodies. With few
exceptions, the homes in Tuskegee in which the students boarded were
but little improvement upon those from which they had come. We wanted
to teach the students how to bathe; how to care for their teeth and
clothing. We wanted to teach them what to eat, and how to eat it
properly, and how to care for their rooms. Aside from this, we wanted
to give them such a practical knowledge of some one industry, together
with the spirit of industry, thrift, and economy, that they would be
sure of knowing how to make a living after they had left us. We wanted
to teach them to study actual things instead of mere books alone. . . .
We wanted to give them such an education as would fit a large
proportion of them to be teachers, and at the same time cause them to
return to the plantation districts and show the people there how to put
new energy and new ideas into farming, as well as into the intellectual
and moral and religious life of the people.
All these ideals and needs crowded themselves upon us with a
seriousness that seemed well-nigh overwhelming. What were we to do?
We had only the little old shanty and the abandoned church which the
good coloured people of the town of Tuskegee had kindly loaned us for
the accommodation of the classes. The number of students was
increasing daily. The more we saw of them, and the more we travelled
through the country districts, the more we saw that our efforts were
reaching, to only a partial degree, the actual needs of the people whom
we wanted to lift up through the medium of the students whom we should
educate and send out as leaders.
The more we talked with the students, who were then coming to us from
several parts of the State, the more we found that the chief ambition
among a large proportion of them was to get an education so that they
would not have to work any longer with their hands. . . .
About three months after the opening of the school, and at the time
when we were in the greatest anxiety about our work, there came into
the market for sale an old and abandoned plantation which was situated
about a mile from the town of Tuskegee. The mansion house--or "big
house," as it would have been called--which had been occupied by the
owners during slavery, had been burned. After making a careful
examination of this place, it seemed to be just the location that we
wanted in order to make our work effective and permanent.
But how were we to get it? The price asked for it was very
little--only five hundred dollars--but we had no money, and we were
strangers in the town and had no credit. The owner of the land agreed
to let us occupy the place if we could make a payment of two hundred
and fifty dollars down, with the understanding that the remaining two
hundred and fifty dollars must be paid within a year. Although five
hundred dollars was cheap for the land, it was a large sum when one did
not have any part of it.
In the midst of the difficulty I summoned a great deal of courage and
wrote to my friend General J. F. B. Marshall, the Treasurer of the
Hampton Institute, putting the situation before him and beseeching him
to lend me the two hundred and fifty dollars on my own personal
responsibility. Within a few days a reply came to the effect that he
had no authority to lend me money belonging to the Hampton Institute,
but that he would gladly lend me the amount needed from his own
personal funds. . . .
I lost no time in getting ready to move the school on to the new farm.
At the time we occupied the place there were standing upon it a cabin,
formerly used as the dining-room, an old kitchen, a stable, and an old
hen-house. Within a few weeks we had all of these structures in use.
The stable was repaired and used as a recitation-room, and very
presently the hen-house was utilized for the same purpose. . . .
Nearly all the work of getting the new location ready for school
purposes was done by the students after school was over in the
afternoon. As soon as we got the cabins in condition to be used I
determined to clear up some land so that we could plant a crop. When I
explained my plan to the young men, I noticed that they did not seem to
take to it very kindly. It was hard for them to see the connection
between clearing land and education. Besides, many of them had been
school-teachers, and they questioned whether or not clearing land would
be in keeping with their dignity. In order to relieve them from any
embarrassment, each afternoon after school I took my axe and led the
way to the woods. When they saw that I was not afraid or ashamed to
work, they began to assist with more enthusiasm. We kept at the work
each afternoon, until we had cleared about twenty acres and had planted
a crop.
At the end of three months enough was secured to repay the loan of two
hundred and fifty dollars to General Marshall, and within two months
more we had secured the entire five hundred dollars and had received a
deed of the one hundred acres of land. . . .
Our next effort was in the direction of increasing the cultivation of
the land, so as to secure some return from it, and at the same time
give the students training in agriculture. All the industries at
Tuskegee have been started in natural and logical order, growing out of
the needs of a community settlement. We began with farming, because we
wanted something to eat.
Many of the students, also, were able to remain in school but a few
weeks at a time, because they had so little money with which to pay
their board. Thus another object which made it desirable to get an
industrial system started was in order to make it available as a means
of helping the students to earn money enough so that they might be able
to remain in school during the nine months' session of the school
year. . . .
From the very beginning, at Tuskegee, I was determined to have the
students do not only the agricultural and domestic work, but to have
them erect their own building. My plan was to have them, while
performing this service, taught the latest and best methods of labour,
so that the school would not only get the benefit of their efforts, but
the students themselves would be taught to see not only utility in
labour, but beauty and dignity would be taught, in fact, how to lift
labour up from mere drudgery and toil, and would learn to love work for
its own sake. My plan was not to teach them to work in the old way,
but to show them how to make the forces of nature--air, water, steam,
electricity, horsepower--assist them in their labour. . . .
I now come to that one of the incidents in my life which seems to have
excited the greatest amount of interest, and which perhaps went further
than anything else in giving me a reputation that in a sense might be
called National. I refer to the address which I delivered at the
opening of the Atlanta Cotton States and International Exposition at
Atlanta, Ga., September 18, 1895. . . .
In the spring of 1895 I received a telegram from a prominent citizen in
Atlanta asking me to accompany a committee from that city to Washington
for the purpose of appearing before a committee of Congress in the
interest of securing Government help for the Exposition. The committee
was composed of about twenty-five of the most prominent and most
influential white men of Georgia. All the members of this committee
were white men except Bishop Grant, Bishop Gaines, and myself. The
Mayor and several other city and State officials spoke before the
committee. They were followed by the two coloured bishops. My name
was the last on the list of speakers. I had never before appeared
before such a committee, nor had I ever delivered any address in the
capital of the Nation. I had many misgivings as to what I ought to
say, and as to the impression that my address would make. While I
cannot recall in detail what I said, I remember that I tried to impress
upon the committee, with all the earnestness and plainness of any
language that I could command, that if Congress wanted to do something
which would assist in ridding the South of the race question and making
friends between the two races, it should in every proper way encourage
the material and intellectual growth of both races. I said that the
Atlanta Exposition would present an opportunity for both races to show
what advance they had made since freedom, and would at the same time
afford encouragement to them to make still greater progress.
I tried to emphasize the fact that while the Negro should not be
deprived by unfair means of the franchise, political agitation alone
would not save him, and that back of the ballot he must have property,
industry, skill, economy, intelligence, and character, and that no race
without these elements could permanently succeed. I said that in
granting the appropriation Congress could do something that would prove
to be of real and lasting value to both races, and that it was the
first great opportunity of the kind that had been presented since the
close of the Civil War.
I spoke for fifteen or twenty minutes, and was surprised at the close
of my address to receive the hearty congratulations of the Georgia
committee and of the members of Congress who were present. The
committee was unanimous in making a favourable report, and in a few
days the bill passed Congress. With the passing of this bill the
success of the Atlanta Exposition was assured.
Soon after this trip to Washington the directors of the Exposition
decided that it would be a fitting recognition of the coloured race to
erect a large and attractive building which should be devoted wholly to
showing the progress of the Negro since freedom. It was further
decided to have the building designed and erected wholly by Negro
mechanics. This plan was carried out. In design, beauty, and general
finish the Negro Building was equal to the others a on the
grounds. . . .
As the day for the opening of the Exposition drew near, the Board of
Directors began preparing the programme for the opening exercises. In
the discussion from day to day of the various features of this
programme, the question came up as to the advisability of putting a
member of the Negro race on for one of the opening addresses, since the
Negroes had been asked to take such a prominent part in the Exposition.
It was argued, further, that such recognition would mark the good
feeling prevailing between the two races. Of course there were those
who were opposed to any such recognition of the rights of the Negro,
but the Board of Directors, composed of men who represented the best
and most progressive element in the South, had their way, and voted to
invite a black man to speak on the opening day. The next thing was to
decide upon the person who was thus to represent the Negro race. After
the question had been canvassed for several days, the directors voted
unanimously to ask me to deliver one of the opening-day addresses, and
in a few days after that I received the official invitation.
The receiving of this invitation brought to me a sense of
responsibility that it would be hard for any one not placed in my
position to appreciate. What were my feelings when this invitation
came to me? I remembered that I had been a slave; that my early years
had been spent in the lowest depths of poverty and ignorance, and that
I had had little opportunity to prepare me for such a responsibility as
this. It was only a few years before that time that any white man in
the audience might have claimed me as his slave; and it was easily
possible that some of my former owners might be present to hear me
speak.
I knew, too, that this was the first time in the entire history of the
Negro that a member of my race had been asked to speak from the same
platform with white Southern men and women on any important National
occasion. I was asked now to speak to an audience composed of the
wealth and culture of the white South, the representative of my former
masters. I knew, too, that while the greater part of my audience would
be composed of Southern people, yet there would be present a large
number of Northern white, as well as a great many men and women of my
own race.
I was determined to say nothing that I did not feel from the bottom of
my heart to be true and right. When the invitation came to me, there
was not one word of intimation as to what I should say or as to what I
should omit. In this I felt that the Board of Directors had paid a
tribute to me. They knew that by one sentence I could have blasted, in
a large degree, the success of the Exposition. I was also painfully
conscious of the fact that, while I must be true to my own race in my
utterances, I had it in my power to make such an ill-timed address as
would result in preventing any similar invitation being extended to a
black men again for years to come. I was equally determined to be true
to the North, as well as to the best element of the white South, in
what I had to say.
The papers, North and South, had taken up the discussion of my coming
speech, and as the time for it drew near this discussion became more
and more widespread. Not a few of the Southern white papers were
unfriendly to the idea of my speaking. From my own race I received
many suggestions as to what I ought to say. I prepared myself as best
I could for the address, but as the eighteenth of September drew
nearer, the heavier my heart became, and the more I feared that my
effort would prove a failure and disappointment.
The invitation had come at a time when I was very busy with my school
work, as it was the beginning of our school year. After preparing my
address, I went through it, as I usually do with all those utterances
which I consider particularly important, with Mrs. Washington, and she
approved of what I intended to say. On the sixteenth of September, the
day before I was to start for Atlanta, so many of the Tuskegee teachers
expressed a desire to hear my address that I consented to read it to
them in a body. When I had done so, and had heard their criticisms and
comments, I felt somewhat relieved, since they seemed to think well of
what I had to say.
In the course of the journey from Tuskegee to Atlanta both coloured and
white people came to the train to point me out, and discussed with
perfect freedom, in my hearing, what was going to take place the next
day. We were met by a committee in Atlanta. Almost the first thing I
heard when I got off the train in that city was an expression something
like this, from an old coloured man near by: "Dat's de man of my race
what's gwine to make a speech at de Exposition to-morrow. I'se sho'
gwine to hear him."
Atlanta was literally packed, at the time, with people from all parts
of the country, and with representatives of foreign governments, as
well as with military and civic organizations. The afternoon papers
had forecasts of the next day's proceedings in flaring headlines. All
this tended to add to my burden. I did not sleep much that night. The
next morning, before day, I went carefully over what I intended to say.
I also kneeled down and asked God's blessing upon my effort. Right
here, perhaps, I ought to add that I make it a rule never to go before
an audience, on any occasion, without asking the blessing of God upon
what I want to say. . . .
Early in the morning a committee called to escort me to my place in the
procession which was to march to the Exposition grounds.
The procession was about three hours in reaching the Exposition
grounds, and during all of this time the sun was shining down upon us
disagreeably hot. When we reached the grounds, the heat, together with
my nervous anxiety, made me feel as if I were about ready to collapse,
and to feel that my address was not going to be a success. When I
entered the audience-room, I found it packed with humanity from bottom
to top, and there were thousands outside who could not get in.
The room was very large, and well suited to public speaking. When I
entered the room, there were vigorous cheers from the coloured portion
of the audience, and faint cheers from some of the white people. I had
been told, while I had been in Atlanta, that while many white people
were going to be present to hear me speak, simply out of curiosity, and
that others who would be present would be in full sympathy with me,
there was a still larger element of the audience which would consist of
those who were going to be present for the purpose of hearing me make a
fool of myself, or, at least, of hearing me say some foolish thing, so
that they could say to the officials who had invited me to speak, "I
told you so!"
One of the trustees of the Tuskegee Institute, as well as my personal
friend, Mr. William H. Baldwin, Jr., was at the time General Manager of
the Southern Railroad, and happened to be in Atlanta on that day. He
was so nervous about the kind of reception that I would have, and the
effect that my speech would produce, that he could not persuade himself
to go into the building, but walked back and forth in the grounds
outside until the opening exercises were over. . . .
Governor Bullock introduced me with the words, "We have with us to-day
a representative of Negro enterprise and Negro civilization."
When I arose to speak there was considerable cheering, especially from
the coloured people. As I remember it now, the thing that was
uppermost in my mind was the desire to say something that would cement
the friendship of the races and bring about hearty coöperation between
them. So far as my outward surroundings were concerned, the only thing
that I recall distinctly now is that when I got up I saw thousands of
eyes looking intently into my face.