The Meeting In The Wigwam.
Three months have passed since the events narrated in the preceeding
chapters. Chill winds are heralding the approach of winter. Wilmington
is three months nearer its doom. Political warriors are buckling on
their armour for the final struggle on the 8th of November which must
result in complete victory for white supremacy, or indefinate bondage to
Negro Domination (?)
Far out on Dry Pond in an old meeting house known as the Wigwam, the
White Supremacy League has gathered. The old hall is poorly lighted but
it is easy for the observer to see the look of grim determination on the
faces of all present. It is a representative gathering. There is the
Jew, the German, Irishman, Bourbon Aristocrat and "poor bocra." The
deacon, the minister of the gospel, the thug and murderer. No one
looking upon this strangely assorted gathering in a Southern community
would for a moment question its significance. Only when politics and the
race question are being discussed is such a gathering possible in the
South. There is a loud rap: the hum of voices ceases. The individual who
gives the signal stands at a small table at the end of the long narrow
hall. One hand rests upon the table, with the other he nervously toys
with a gavel. He is a tall, lean, lank, ungainly chap, whose cheek bones
as prominent as an Indian's seem to be on the eve of pushing through his
sallow skin. A pair of restless black eyes, set far apart, are
apparently at times hidden by the scowls that occasionally wrinkle his
forehead. His gray hair hangs in thick mats about his shoulders.
Teck Pervis had served in the war of secession under General Whiting,
and was one of the many demoralized stragglers, who swept before the
advancing tide of the Union troops scampered through the swamps and
marshes after the fall of Fort Fisher, to find refuge in Wilmington.
During the Reconstruction period and many years following, he, with such
characters as Sap Grant, Neal Simonds, Henry Sallins, Watson and others,
made nights hideous on Dry Pond by their brawls and frolics. In
introducing Teck Pervis to the reader, I wish to briefly call attention
to that peculiar class in the South known as the "Poor Whites." Always
an ignorant dependent, entirely different in every respect from the
descendants of the Huguenots, Celt and Cavaliers that make up the
South's best people; the origin of this being, who since the war has
been such a prominent figure in the political uprisings and race
troubles, and so on, is worthy of consideration. In the early centuries
the English Government made of America what in later years Australia
became--_a dumping ground for criminals_. Men and women of the Mother
Country guilty of petty thefts and other misdemeanors were sent to
America, bound out to a responsible person to be owned by said person
until the expiration of sentence imposed, a stipulated sum of money
being paid to the Crown for the services of the convict. At the
expiration of their term of servitude these subjects were given limited
citizenship, but were never allowed to be upon equality with those who
once owned them. These indentured slaves and their descendants were
always considered with contempt by the upper classes. The advance of
American civilization, the tide of progress has arisen and swept over
this indolent creature who remains the same stupid, lazy, ignoramus.
In Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia,
North and South Carolina, and throughout the entire South are legion of
this people, some of whom could not be taught the rudiments of
arithmetic. When African slavery became established in America, white
slavery was then tried in Australia where the treatment was so severe
that thousands of them fled to the woods to become as wild in many
instances as the natives. As the introduction of African slavery caused
the indentured slave to depreciate in value as bond men, they were
converted into overseers, patrolmen, Negro drivers to look for and to
return runaway Negroes to their masters. They were licensed to break up
Negro frolics, whip the men, and ravish the women. But in the main the
poor white subsisted by hunting and fishing. To him work was degrading,
and only for "niggers" to do. A squatter upon the property of others,
his sole belongings consisted of fishing tackle, guns, a house full of
children, and a yard full of dogs. In Virginia, North and South Carolina
he is known as "Poor Bocra," "Poor Tackie." In Georgia and Florida it's
"Cracker," and there are few readers of current literature who are not
familiar with that class of whites known as Clay Eaters of Alabama and
Mississippi. Looked down upon by the upper classes, the poor white
before the war was simply a tool for designing politicians. When war
between the North and South became iminent, the poor white increased in
value; for the aristocrat was adverse to being a common private. So they
sought the poor white, appealed to his patriotism, pictured to him the
wrongs heaped upon the South, and the righteousness of slavery. They
drew glowing pictures of the Southern army's invasion of the North to
thrash the Yankees, and pardon them in Faneuil Hall. The South freed,
was to open her markets to the world. Her wealth was to be untold, while
grass would grow on the sidewalks of Northern cities. Every poor white
who shouldered a gun was to be elevated out of serfdom, be given forty
acres of land, a "nigger" and a mule. Enthused by these glowing
promises, the Southern poor white shouldered his gun and waded in: and
no one reviewing the history of that immortal struggle would for a
moment question the bravery of the Southern soldiers. They fought like
demons. They invaded the North. They made the world wonder at
Gettysburg.
Here Mississippi flushed with pride
Met Pennsylvania's deadly tide
And Georgia's rash and gallant ride
Was checked by New York's chivalry.
Here Alabama's rebel yell
Rang through the valleys down to hell
But Maine's decisive shot and shell
Cut short the dreadful revelry.
But the South's victorious armies did not reach Faneuil Hall. The air
castles, the hopes of Southern prosperity and the poor whites elevation
and wealth were blasted, when two years after that gallant dash at
Gettysburg, that ragged, starved, wretched host surrendered at
Appomattox. The blasted hopes of the poor white caused him to drift
further away from the aristocrat who had fooled him into a foolhardy and
disastrous struggle. Land was cheap but he hadn't the money to buy it,
and the aristocrat didn't have the "nigger" and the mule to give him. He
grew lukewarm politically, got his rod and went a fishing. But with the
Negro freed and enfranchised, and the Northern politician on the
premises, the vote of the poor white became indispensible to the former
Southern ruler who wished to hold his own politically. So a new battle
cry was made, viz:--"Negro Domination," "Social Equality." But so
lukewarm had the poor white become, that his song had to be sung with
pertinacious fervor to make him do more than pause to listen.
"_Do you want niggers to marry your daughters? Do you want niggers to
sit in school beside your children? Do you want niggers on the juries
trying white men? If you don't want such dreadful calamities to befall
the South, go to the polls and do your duty!_" "What'd he say? Niggers
er marryin our darters? Niggers in skule wid we uns? Thet aint er goin
ter du! Le' me see thet ticket!"
The Southern poor white has never had much of a hankering after "book
larning." He's better than the "nigger" and that's all he cares to know.
To be white means license to trample upon the rights of others. The
cat's paw--the tool of the aristocrat, he stands ready always, to do the
dirty work of lynching, burning and intimidation. Traveling South,
especially on the East Coast, the train conductor only has to say to the
colored passenger in a first class car but once that he must get out. If
the passenger refuses, the conductor need not waste words; a telegram to
Jessup or Way Cross, Ga., or Bartow Junction in Florida will call
together a crowd of crackers, large enough to put the engine off the
track if necessary. Like the dog in the manger, unable to pay for a
first class ride himself, the poor white squats about railroad stations
and waits for the opportunity to eject some prosperous Negro. I have
known as many as two hundred to swarm around a train to put off one
frail woman not over ninety pounds in weight.
This is the creature that is held up continually before the Negro as
his superior--an assertion that will ever be met with strong resistance.
For while the Negro was a slave he is not a descendant of criminals.
"Gentermen," said Teck Pervis, "whils we air waitin fur ther kernul and
other big uns ter errive, as cheerman uv the Dry Pond White Supreemacy
Leeg, I wish ter keep this here meet'n warm by makin' er few broken
remarks"--"Go ahead Teck, give us a speech" came from more than a dozen
throats; "I wanter say jes here" he continued "thet ther white folks uv
Wilmington, North Caliny hav tuk and stood nigger biggitty and
hifullutin carryins on with moe patience then eny folks on top side er
this green yerth" (Laughter and applause). "We po uns have jes layed er
roun an slep till Mr. Nigger has trotted so fur er hed that I am feared
we wont be able ter over take him." (Laughter). "They air in better
houses then we po white uns, thur chilan air er wearin better cloes an
er gittin moe larnin then our'n. An gentermen surs jes tackle eny er
them little uns er'n an they'd surprise yer; why they kin spit latin
faster then er terbacky worm kin spit terbacky. (Laughter). Who give
ther nigger ther stick ter break our heads? _Who done it I say?_ You
rich white uns, thets who;" "But we'll do it no longer," said a voice
from the audience. "We uns hepped yer ter fite yer battles," continued
Teck, "an when thet war was ended, we did'n git ther nigger an mule yer
promised, but we uns did' n kick powerful hard agin yer bekase yer did'n
hev em ter giv us." (Laughter). "But you uns could er giv we uns ther
wurk instid uv givin it ter good fur nuthin nigger bekase we po uns hev
voted yer ticket rite er long an kep yer in office--
"I see ther kurnels on hand' so I giv way fur im," and Teck Pervis
advanced to where the Colonel had paused to remove his overcoat. "Whats
the matter with the Colonel? He's all right!" was uttered with a ring
that shook the old wigwam. The Colonel, escorted by Teck Pervis,
leisurely strutted to the centre of the hall. The Colonel had seen the
time when he would have scorned the idea of being introduced to an
audience by a low white. "Oh vain boast! who can control his fate?" He
is now as poor as the poorest indentured slave, seeking to feed at the
public crib by appealing to the passions and prejudices of the masses.
"Gentlemen," says he, "it is needless for me to ask you to night whether
or not you believe that the Anglo-Saxon race was ordained by God to rule
the world. It is needless for me to say that the Anglo-Saxon proposes to
carry out God's decree to the letter. (Applause). When God made man, he
placed him over every other living creature to rule and govern, and that
man was a white man. (Applause). When God said to man 'Have dominion
over the beasts of the field,' He meant to include inferior races. These
inferior races are to be kept in subjection by their superiors, and
wherever and whenever they assume to dominate their superiors we are
justified by our Creator in using every means available to put them
down. The white people of North Carolina, the curled darlings of God's
favor have by their long suffering gotten into such a state of
subjection that it is time to act. (Applause). Wherever the Saxon has
planted his foot, he has been a civilizer. He came to America, drove out
the savage and made it the greatest nation on the face of the earth,
(applause) and he has the right to govern it in its entirety from the
humblest official to the executive head of the nation, (prolonged
applause). We have for years been dominated by semi-civilized
barbarians, flattered into the belief that they are as good as white
people by unprincipalled Yankee carpet-baggers who have profited by
their ignorance. Emboldened by the leniency of their superiors, Negroes
have become unbearable. The government is corrupt, and so bold has the
Negro become that the virtue of our women has been assailed by that
black rascal, the editor of _The Record_--(cries of Kill him! Burn the
scoundrel!) The snake is not to be scorched this time: we are going to
make a clean sweep, and permanently restore white man's government. Our
friends in other sections of the State, and even in adjoining States are
in sympathy with us, and are willing to come in and help us," etc.
But why weary the reader with the Colonel's firey harangue? Although
there is no foundation for such incendiary language the reader will soon
see just how much misery it wrought upon a defenseless people. Fanned
into fury by the rehearsing of imaginary wrongs by gifted tongues, the
mob when once started astonished its leaders, who quailed and looked
aghast at the hellish work they had inaugurated.