It was on a faraway plantation, where the big bell rang out the
call to work, and the overseer shouted at the top of his voice,
"All in line." For twenty-seven years I was one among the groups
that must hearken to the call of the big bell.
Some years ago the owners of these plantations agreed among
themselves to let the colored people have schools, with the
understanding that no one should be admitted as a pupil who was
old enough to work. So I found myself among those who had to
work. I hardly know how the thought came into my mind that I
wanted to go to school, for there was no talk of schools around
the fireside, but for some cause that I cannot explain I became
possessed with the longing for an education. I did not know what
for, but, with all my heart, I wanted to go to school.
There were ten of us in our family, including our father. Our
mother departed into the beyond when we were very small. Our
father was an easy-going man. Any way would do for him. Whatever
_was_ was right. Whenever I told him that I wanted to go to
school he would answer, "You know what the boss says." But I
would reply, "Father, he can't _make_ me stay here." That was to
him a piece of foolishness and he would turn away and say nothing
more. At last I saw that I must do my own thinking and plan my
own way of leaving. For ten years school was my chief thought.
Every day I saw myself turning from the old plantation to what
was for me the land of freedom and opportunity.
It was years before the opportunity came. One night I said to my
father, "I am going to leave on the first day of May if it costs
me my life." For the first time he seemed to realize that I was
in earnest. Then he said, "If you leave me you will travel in my
tears." That was a horrible thought to me so I did not leave then
nor until several more years had gone by, ten in all from the
time I first began to think about school.
Finally, one night I said to him: "This is the third and last
time I shall tell you I want to go to school. You hindered me for
years by telling me that I would be travelling in your tears.
That will not answer any longer." When he saw that the blaze had
never died out he said: "My son, these may be right thoughts that
have come to your mind and their power may lead you to a good
end, yet they may be the ruin of you. I would rather follow you
to your grave than see you captured and brought back to be
punished by these hateful laws they have on these plantations.
God will change things after a time and then it may be you can go
to school in safety." I saw then that my poor father wanted me to
go to school but was afraid I would be punished if I did, as he
had known others to do. I said I was going to risk it anyway. As
the appointed time drew near he was very sorrowful. Never shall I
forget the night of parting. After he had pronounced a
benedirection upon me he said: "May you ever be happy."
I had really started upon my journey. I had a sack of gingerbread
which I did not want to bother with but that my dear sisters
persuaded me to carry with me. When daylight appeared I knew it
would not be safe to keep the road so I planned out a road of my
own. When I came to the spring into which Ponce de Leon had
plunged to regain his lost youth I sat down and ate all the bread
I could and left the rest. How often afterwards I wished for it!
Not long after I left Ponce de Leon spring I heard the plantation
dogs coming after me. "What shall I do now?" was the question.
When they had nearly reached me I hid behind a tree and then
dashed off as if I saw game ahead. They soon recognized me and
became my fast friends.
We slept in the same bed under the same guardian stars. Every
night I would thank God for their voiceless sympathy. I shared my
meals with them. When I bought crackers I would eat but a few of
them and give the rest to my dumb companions. But I saw at last
that I must get rid of the poor creatures somehow, although the
thought almost broke my heart. When I reached the Mississippi I
lashed two logs together and sent my companions out hunting. Then
I sailed away on the raft I had made across the Father of Waters.
When they returned I looked back and saw them running alongside
of the river where they could see me, willing to die with me. I
broke down in tears and could not look back any more, because I
would have gone back and died with them.
For hundreds of miles I made a path where no human foot had ever
trod. I swam rivers and made harbors where no boat had ever
landed. At last I reached Texas. For many days I travelled
without seeing any house. At night I was afraid of being
destroyed by some wild beast, so I would climb a tree and stay
awake until morning. But none of these things moved me for I had
ten years' study of my journey and whatever it might bring, even
death. Coming to a little town I found work with one of my race.
I thought all colored people were like those on the plantation so
I told my employer everything and from what plantation I came. He
said I had taken the right step. Imagine my surprise therefore
when I discovered that I was captured! It almost broke my heart.
Rather than go back to the old plantation I would suffer death. I
pulled away from my captors and ran with all my might. My
pretended friend was ahead trying to overtake me but I soon freed
myself in a large swamp. This taught me a lesson I did not have
to go to school to learn, I found out that some among my own race
would put me to death for a dollar and I learned to keep my mouth
shut.
When I reached Chattanooga, the nights were so cold I saw I could
no longer lie out. For many months I had not slept in a bed, nor
eaten a cooked meal. My clothes were those I wore away from home
and they were what you can imagine they would be. I did not know
how to go about getting a job. Finally I found a good place and
before long was earning enough to make me comfortable. But one
day when I was out in town I saw a drummer who had sold goods to
the store on our plantation, for many years. He recognized me and
called out, "The boss is going to break your head, nigger, if he
gets you!" This ended my happy home. I had not yet learned to get
on a train but with my same dependence I soon ran away to
Knoxville. Writing to a certain place from there I learned of my
father's death. These were dark days for me. I was strolling
about in the cold world without home or friends. I would often
ask myself, "What am I living for when there is no heart beating
for me?" I began to drift with the current and even thought I
would take to drinking. Then the thought came to me that I would
be a coward to come so far and then give up. I arose with this
thought and determined to act like a man. I entered school in
Morristown Tenn., thinking that all my troubles were over. I made
low grade with small children. It seemed funny to them to see a
man who knew so little. I was there about four months and was
beginning to lose my fear when one day I saw the same drummer
again. When he caught sight of me he called out, "Hello, nigger,
I thought you were in New York!" Never will sinner tremble in the
presence of the Almighty as I did in the presence of that
drummer. But he seemed only delighted in spending some time
talking with me. He said one of my sisters and several other
hands from the plantation had run away and the boss thought I was
the cause of it all, and, he added, "If that old man gets his
hand on you, they'll take you some night and skin you alive. I
told him I saw you in Chattanooga and he said he would make me a
present of $200 if I would let him know where you were if I
should see you again. But I would not do you that way for
anything. I'll tell you what I will do for you, however. I'll get
you a good job up North where you can go to school. I would not
stop here." I replied "All RIGHT!" As he was going away he threw
me a quarter saying, "Get you a drink, old boy!" I lifted my hat
and scraped back my foot as I thanked him for the money. But I
was not so easily fooled at that time. I knew just what such
sweet talk meant. I saw that it was my move. I had learned then
to get on the train. I left Morristown that night and next
morning was in Lexington. Being afraid to stay I went to
Wilberforce, Ohio, then to Frankfort but finally came back to
Lexington again. By that time I had found out that my boss could
not carry me back to the plantation, as its laws were not so
large in the world as I had thought. I found out that if I
violated the laws of the State I could not be carried back
without the consent of the Governor of Kentucky. I entered
Chandler School without money but happy. For the first time I
wrote to my old Miss telling her I was in Lexington in Chandler
School. She answered with sweet words about my going to school,
and said the boss had spoken kind things about me before he
passed away.
The kind teachers of Chandler did their best to unfold those
twenty-seven years of ignorance. I had almost to bite the dust to
stay in school but I stayed there. I have studied many days
hungry--walking the streets afternoons trying to find work for a
little to eat.
Since I have been in Lexington I have often been asked, "What do
you want with so much education?" Out of those same lips I have
heard other students praised for going to school. I did not let
this discourage me. Dr. J. E. Hunter, Rev. E. A. Clarke, and
Kelly Robinson will ever have my heart-felt gratitude for the
kind words of encouragement they gave me. We little realize what
a word of encouragement means to one who has lived the life I
have.