WHERE THE NEGRO FAILS
Long before I came west and during the years I had spent on the
homestead, my closest companion was the magazines. From the time Thomas
W. Lawson's "Frenzied Finance" had run as a serial article in a leading
periodical, to Ida M. Tarbell's "The History of the Standard Oil
Company," I fairly devoured special articles on subjects of timely
interest. I enjoyed reading anything that would give me a more complete
knowledge of what made up this great country in which we live and which
all Americans are given to boasting of as the "greatest country in the
world."
And this brings to my mind certain conditions which exist concerning the
ten odd millions of the black race in America; and more, this, in itself
had a tendency to open wider the gap between a certain class of the race
and myself.
There are two very distinct types or classes, among the American
negroes. I am inclined to feel that this is more prominent than most
people are aware. I have met and known those who are quick to think,
practical, conservative as well as progressive, while there are those
who are narrow in their sympathies and short-sighted in their views. Now
as a matter of argument, my experience has taught me there are more of
this class than most colored people have any idea.
The worst feature of this situation, however, is that a large number of
the latter class have commingled with the former in such a way as to
easily assume all the worthy proportions. They are a sort of dog in the
manger, and are not in accord with any principle that is practical and
essential to the elimination of friction and strife between the races.
Among the many faults of this class is, that they do not realize what it
takes to succeed, nor do they care, but spend their efforts loudly
claiming credit for the success of those who are honest in their
convictions and try to prove themselves indispensable citizens. Nothing
is more obvious and proves this more conclusively than to take notice,
as I have, of their own selection of reading matter.
Now, for instance, a few years ago a series of articles under the title
of "Following the Color Line" appeared in a certain periodical, the work
of a very well known writer whose specialty is writing on social
conditions, strikes, etc.
In justice to all concerned, the writer described the conditions which
his articles covered, just as he found them and in this, in my opinion,
he differed largely from many of the southern authors whose articles are
still inclined to treat the Ethiopians as a whole, as the old "time
worn" aunt and uncle. Not intending to digress, I want to put down here,
that negroes as a whole are changing to some extent, the same as the
whites and no liberty-loving colored man appreciates being regarded as
"aunt," or "uncle" even though some of these people were as honorable as
could be. This is a modern age.
Now getting back to the discussion that I seem to have for the moment
forgotten and as regards the article, while worthy in every respect, it
was no different in its way from any number of other articles published
at that time, as well as now, that deal on great and complex questions
of the day. Yet, this article caused thousands of colored people, who
never before bought a magazine or book, to subscribe for that magazine.
It was later published in book form and is conspicuous in the libraries
of many thousands of colored families.
What I have intended to put down in this lengthy discourse regarding my
race is, if they see or hear of an article concerning the race, they
will buy that magazine, to read the article spoken of and nothing more.
Since living in the state, as a recreation I was in the habit of taking
trips to Chicago once or twice a year, and as might be expected I would
talk of South Dakota. In the course of a conversation I have related a
story of some one's success there and would be listened to with unusual
attention. As I had found in them many who were poor listeners, at these
times when I found myself the object of so much undivided attention I
would warm up to the subject until it had evolved into a sort of
lecture, and remarks of, "my," "you don't say so," and "just think of
it" would interrupt me--"and a colored man." No, I would correct, the
least bit hesitant, a white man. Then, just like the sun disappearing
behind a cloud, all interest would vanish, furthermore, I have on
occasions of this kind had attention of a few minutes before turned to
remarks of criticism for taking up the time relating the success of a
white man. The idea is prevalent among this class that all white
people should be rich, and regardless of how ideal the success has been,
I learned that no white person could be accepted as an example for this
class to follow.
[Illustration: The real farmer was fast replacing the homesteader. (Page
130.)]
By reading nothing but discussions concerning the race, by all but
refusing to accept the success of the white race as an example and by
welcoming any racial disturbance as a conclusion that the entire white
race is bent in one great effort to hold him--the negro, down, he can
not very well feel the thrill of modern progress and is ignorant as to
public opinion. Therefore he is unable to cope with the trend of
conditions and has become so condensed in the idea that he has no
opportunity, that he is disinteresting to the public. One of the
greatest tasks of my life has been to convince a certain class of my
racial acquaintances that a colored man can be anything.
Now on the entire Little Crow reservation, less than eight hundred miles
from Chicago, I was the only colored man engaged in agriculture, and
moreover, from Megory to Omaha, a distance of three hundred miles. There
was only one other negro family engaged in the same industry.
Having lived in the cities, I therefore, was not a greenhorn, as some of
them would try to have me feel, when they referred to their clubs and
social affairs.
Among the many facts that confronted me as I meditated the situation,
one dated back to the time I had run on the road. The trains I ran on
carried thousands monthly into the interior of the northwest. Among
these were a great number of emigrants fresh from the old countries, but
there was seldom a colored person among them, and those few that I had
seen, with few exceptions, went on through to the Pacific coast cities
and engaged in the same occupation they had followed in the east.
During these trips I learned the greatest of all the failings were not
only among the ignorant class, but among the educated as well. Although
more agreeable to talk to, they lacked that great and mighty principle
which characterizes Americans, called "the initiative." Colored people
are possible in every way that is akin to becoming good citizens, which
has been thoroughly proven and is an existing fact. Yet they seem to
lack the "guts" to get into the northwest and "do things." In seven or
eight of the great agricultural states there were not enough colored
farmers to fill a township of thirty-six sections.
Another predominating inconsistency is that there is that "love of
luxury." They want street cars, cement walks, and electric lights to
greet them when they arrive. I well remember it was something near two
years before I saw a colored man on the reservation, until the road had
been extended. They had never come west of Oristown, but as the time for
the opening arrived, the kitchens and hotel dining-rooms of Megory and
Calias were filled with waiters and cooks.
During the preparation for the opening the commercial club of Megory had
lengthy circulars printed, with photographs of the surrounding country,
farms, homes, and the like, to accompany. These circulars described
briefly the progress the country had made in the four years it had been
opened to settlement, and the opportunities waiting. By giving the name
and address the club would send these to any address or person, with the
statement, "by the request" of whoever gave the name.
I gave the name of not less than one hundred persons, and sent them
personally to many as well. I wrote articles and sent them to different
newspapers edited by colored people, in the east and other places. I was
successful in getting one colored person to come and register--my oldest
brother.