CHAPTER IX
ANXIOUS DAYS AND SLEEPLESS NIGHTS
The coming of Christmas, that first year of our residence in Alabama, gave
us an opportunity to get a farther insight into the real life of the people.
The first thing that reminded us that Christmas had arrived was the “foreday”
visits of scores of children rapping at our doors, asking for “Chris’mus
gifts! Chris’mus gifts!” Between the hours of two o’clock and five o’clock
in the morning I presume that we must have had a half-hundred such calls.
This custom prevails throughout this portion of the South to-day.
During the days of slavery it was a custom quite generally observed
throughout all the Southern states to give the colored people a week of
holiday at Christmas, or to allow the holiday to continue as long as the “yule
log” lasted. The male members of the race, and often the female members,
were expected to get drunk. We found that for a whole week the colored
people in and around Tuskegee dropped work the day before Christmas, and
that it was difficult to get any one to perform any service from the time
they stopped work until after the New Year. Persons who at other times did
not use strong drink thought it quite the proper thing to indulge in it
rather freely during the Christmas week. There was a widespread hilarity,
and a free use of guns, pistols, and gunpowder generally. The sacredness of
the season seemed to have been almost wholly lost sight of.
During the first Christmas vacation I went some distance from the town to
visit the people on one of the large plantations. In their poverty and
ignorance it was pathetic to see their attempts to get joy out of the season
that in most parts of the country is so sacred and so dear to the heart. In
one cabin I noticed that all that the five children had to remind them of
the coming of Christ was a single bunch of firecrackers, which they had
divided among them. In another cabin, where there were at least a half-dozen
persons, they had only ten cents’ worth of ginger-cakes, which had been
bought in the store the day before. In another family they had only a few
pieces of sugar cane. In still another cabin I found nothing but a new jug
of cheap, mean whiskey, which the husband and wife were making free use of,
notwithstanding the fact that the husband was one of the local ministers. In
a few instances I found that the people had gotten hold of some
bright-colored cards that had been designed for advertising purposes, and
were making the most of those. In other homes some member of the family had
bought a new pistol. In the majority of cases there was nothing to be seen
in the cabin to remind one of the coming of the Saviors, except that the
people had ceased work in the fields and were lounging about their homes. At
night, during Christmas week, they usually had what they called a “frolic,”
in some cabin on the plantation. This meant a kind of rough dance, where
there was likely to be a good deal of whiskey used, and where there might be
some shooting or cutting with razors.
While I was making this Christmas visit I met an old colored man who was one
of the numerous local preachers, who tried to convince me, from the
experience Adam had in the Garden of Eden, that God had cursed all labor,
and that, therefore, it was a sin for any man to work. For that reason this
man sought to do as little work as possible. He seemed at that time to be
supremely happy, because he was living, as he expressed it, through one week
that was free from sin.
In the school we made a special effort to teach our students the meaning of
Christmas, and to give them lessons in its proper observance. In this we
have been successful to a degree that makes me feel safe in saying that the
season now has a new meaning, not only through all that immediate region,
but, in a measure, wherever our graduates have gone.
At the present time one of the most satisfactory features of the Christmas
and Thanksgiving seasons at Tuskegee is the unselfish and beautiful way in
which our graduates and students spend their time in administering to the
comfort and happiness of others, especially the unfortunate. Not long ago
some of our young men spent a holiday in rebuilding a cabin for a helpless
colored woman who is about seventy-five years old. At another time I
remember that I made it known in chapel, one night, that a very poor student
was suffering from cold, because he needed a coat. The next morning two
coats were sent to my office for him.
I have referred to the disposition on the part of the white people in the
town of Tuskegee and vicinity to help the school. From the first, I resolved
to make the school a real part of the community in which it was located. I
was determined that no one should have the feeling that it was a foreign
institution, dropped down in the midst of the people, for which they had no
responsibility and in
which they had no interest. I noticed that the very fact that they had been
asked to contribute toward the purchase of the land made them begin to feel
as if it was going to be their school, to a large degree. I noted that just
in proportion as we made the white people feel that the institution was a
part of the life of the community, and that, while we wanted to make friends
in Boston, for example, we also wanted to make white friends in Tuskegee,
and that we wanted to make the school of real service to all the people,
their attitude toward the school became favorable.
Perhaps I might add right here, what I hope to demonstrate later, that, so
far as I know, the Tuskegee school at the present time has no warmer and
more enthusiastic friends anywhere than it has among the white citizens of
Tuskegee and throughout the state of Alabama and the entire South. From the
first, I have advised our people in the South to make friends in every
straightforward, manly way with their next-door neighbor, whether he be a
black man or a white man. I have also advised them, where no principle is at
stake, to consult the interest of their local communities, and to advise
with their friends in regard to their voting.
For several months the work of securing the money with which to pay for the
farm went on without ceasing. 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. This gave us a great
deal of satisfaction. It was not only a source of satisfaction to secure a
permanent location for
the school, but it was equally satisfactory to know that the greater part of
the money with which it was paid for had been gotten from the white and
colored people in the town of Tuskegee. The most of this money was obtained
by holding festivals and concerts, and from small individual donations.
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.
The first animal that the school came into possession of was an old blind
horse given us by one of the white citizens of Tuskegee. Perhaps I may add
here that at the present time the school owns over two hundred horses,
colts, mules, cows, calves, and oxen, and about seven hundred hogs and pigs,
as well as a large number of sheep and goats.
The school was constantly growing in numbers, so much so that, after we had
got the farm paid for, the cultivation of the land begun, and the old cabins
which we had found on the place somewhat repaired, we turned our attention
toward providing a large, substantial building. After having given a good
deal of thought to the subject, we finally had the plans drawn for a
building that was estimated to cost about six thousand dollars. This seemed
to us a tremendous sum, but we knew that the school must go backward or
forward, and that our work would mean little unless we could get hold of the
students in their home life.
One incident which occurred about this time gave me a great deal of
satisfaction as well as surprise. When it became known in the town that we
were discussing the plans for a new, large building, a Southern white man
who was operating a sawmill not far from Tuskegee came to me and said that
he would gladly put all the lumber necessary to erect the building on the
grounds, with no other guarantee for payment than my word that it would be
paid for when we secured some money. I told the man frankly that at the time
we did not have in our hands one dollar of the money needed. Notwithstanding
this, he insisted on being allowed to put the lumber on the grounds. After
we had secured some portion of the money we permitted him to do this.
Miss Davidson again began the work of securing in various ways small
contributions for the new building from the white and colored people in and
near Tuskegee. I think I never saw a community of people so happy over
anything as were the colored people over the prospect of this new building.
One day, when we were holding a meeting to secure funds for its erection, an
old, ante-bellum colored man came a distance of twelve miles and brought in
his oxcart a large hog.
When the meeting was in progress, he rose in the midst of the company and
said that he had no money which he could give, but that he had raised two
fine hogs, and that he had brought one of them as a contribution toward the
expenses of the building. He closed his announcement by saying: “Any
nigger that’s got any love for his race, or any respect for himself, will
bring a hog to the next meeting.” Quite a number of men in the community
also volunteered to give several days’ work, each, toward the erection of
the building.
After we had secured all the help that we could in Tuskegee, Miss Davidson
decided to go North for the purpose of securing additional funds. For weeks
she visited individuals and spoke in churches and before Sunday schools and
other organizations. She found this work quite trying, and often
embarrassing. The school was not known, but she was not long in winning her
way into the confidence of the best people in the North.
The first gift from any Northern person was received from a New York lady
whom Miss Davidson met on the boat that was bringing her North. They fell
into a conversation, and the Northern lady became so much interested in the
effort being made at Tuskegee that before they parted Miss Davidson was
handed a check for fifty dollars. From some time before our marriage, and
also after it, Miss Davidson kept up the work of securing money in the North
and in the South by interesting people by personal visits and through
correspondence. At the same time she kept in close touch with the work at
Tuskegee, as lady principal and classroom teacher. In addition to this, she
worked among the older people in and near Tuskegee, and taught a
Sunday-school class in the town. She was never very strong, but never seemed
happy unless she was giving all of her strength to the cause which she
loved. Often, at night, after spending the day in going from door to door
trying to interest persons in the work at Tuskegee, she would be so
exhausted that she could not undress herself. A lady upon whom she called,
in Boston, afterward told me that at one time when Miss Davidson called to
see her and sent up her card the lady was detained a little before she could
see Miss Davidson, and when she entered the parlor she found Miss Davidson
so exhausted that she had fallen asleep.
While putting up our first building, which was named Porter Hall, after Mr.
A. H. Porter, of Brooklyn, N.Y., who gave a generous sum toward its
erection, the need for money became acute. I had given one of our creditors
a promise that upon a certain day he should be paid four hundred dollars. On
the morning of that day we did not have a dollar. The mail arrived at the
school at ten o’clock, and in this mail there was a check sent by Miss
Davidson for exactly four hundred dollars. I could relate many instances of
almost the same character. This four hundred dollars was given by two ladies
in Boston. Two years later, when the Work at Tuskegee had grown
considerably, and when we were in the midst of a season when we were so much
in need of money that the future looked doubtful and gloomy, the same two
Boston ladies sent us six thousand dollars. Words cannot describe our
surprise, or the encouragement that the gift brought to us. Perhaps I might
add here that for fourteen years these same friends have sent us six
thousand dollars each year.
As soon as the plans were drawn for the new building, the students began
digging out the earth where the foundations were to be laid, working after
the regular classes were over. They had not fully outgrown the idea that it
was hardly the proper thing for them to use their hands, since they had come
there, as one of them expressed it, “to be educated, and not to work.”
Gradually, though, I noted with satisfaction that a sentiment in favor of
work was gaining ground. After a few weeks of hard work the foundations were
ready, and a day was appointed for the laying of the corner-stone.
When it is considered that the laying of this corner-stone took place in the
heart of the South, in the “Black Belt,” in the center of that part of
our country that was most devoted to slavery; that at that time slavery had
been abolished only about sixteen years; that only sixteen years before that
no Negro could be taught from books without the teacher receiving the
condemnation of the law or of public sentiment- when all this is considered,
the scene that was witnessed on that spring day at Tuskegee was a remarkable
one. I believe there are few places in the world where it could have taken
place.
The principal address was delivered by the Hon. Waddy Thompson, the
Superintendent of Education for the county. About the corner-stone were
gathered the teachers, the students, their parents and friends, the county
officials- who were white- and all the leading white men in that vicinity,
together with many of the black men and women whom these same white people
but a few years before had held a title to as property. The members of both
races were anxious to exercise the privilege of placing under the
corner-stone some memento.
Before the building was completed we passed through some very trying
seasons. More than once our hearts were made to bleed, as it were, because
bills were falling due that we did not have the money to meet. Perhaps no
one who has not gone through the experience, month after month, of trying to
erect buildings and provide equipment for a school when no one knew where
the money was to come from, can properly appreciate the difficulties under
which we labored.
During the first years at Tuskegee I recall that night after night I would
roll and toss on my bed, without sleep, because of the anxiety and
uncertainty which we were in regarding money. I knew that, in a large
degree, we were trying an experiment- that of testing whether or not it was
possible for Negroes to build up and control the affairs of a large
educational institution. I knew that if we failed it would injure the whole
race. I knew that the presumption was against us. I knew that in the case of
white people beginning such an enterprise it would be taken for granted that
they were going to succeed, but in our case I felt that people would be
surprised if we succeeded. All this made a burden which pressed down on us,
sometimes, it seemed, at the rate of a thousand pounds to the square inch.
In all our difficulties and anxieties, however, I never went to a white or a
black person in the town of Tuskegee for any assistance that was in their
power to render, without being helped according to their means. More than a
dozen times, when bills figuring up into the hundreds of dollars were
falling due, I applied to the white men of Tuskegee for small loans, often
borrowing small amounts from as many as a half-dozen persons, to meet our
obligations. One thing I was determined to do from the first, and that was
to keep the credit of the school high, and this, I think I can say without
boasting, we have done all through these years.
I shall always remember a bit of advice given me by Mr. George W. Campbell,
the white man to whom I have referred as the one who induced General
Armstrong to send me to Tuskegee. Soon after I entered upon the work Mr.
Campbell said to me, in his fatherly way: “Washington, always remember
that credit is capital.” At one time when we were in the greatest distress
for money that we ever experienced, I placed the situation frankly before
General Armstrong. Without hesitation he gave me his personal check for all
the money which he had saved for his own use. This was not the only time
that General Armstrong helped Tuskegee in this way. I do not think I have
ever made this fact public before.
During the summer of 1882, at the end of the first year’s work of the
school, I was married to Miss Fannie N. Smith, of Malden, W. Va. We began
keeping house in Tuskegee early in the fall. This made a home for our
teachers who now had been increased to four in number. My wife was also a
graduate of the Hampton Institute. After earnest and constant work in the
interests of the school, together with her housekeeping duties, my wife
passed away in May, 1884. One child, Portia M. Washington, was born during
our marriage.
From the first, my wife most earnestly devoted her thoughts and time to the
work of the school, and was completely one with me in every interest and
ambition. She passed away, however, before she had an opportunity of seeing
what the school was designed to be.