[n.b. - page numbers refer to printed text. Available at https://archive.org/details/blackmansburden0000will ] CHAPTER IX During the first summer after the school was organ- ized I determined to take a quartet of young men singers on a tour as a means of interesting more people in our efforts. We travelled through the Catskills and the Adi- rondacks, along the North Shore of Massachusetts, as far north as Bar Harbor, Maine, and also in the White Mountains, and we met with several interesting adven- tures. One night, quite late in August, we found our- selves at a place not far from Fabyan, N. H., where it was not possible to get shelter for the night. We stayed about the little railroad station until it was locked and we were turned out of doors. It was very cold consider- ing it was a summer night, so cold that we did not dare lie down on the ground for any length of time, so we walked back and forth on the railroad to keep warm. Late in the night, however, the boys became so tired that they dropped here and there upon the ground and went to sleep. The next morning Mr. William A. Harris, one of my teachers, who had charge of the quartet, found he had contracted a severe cold. He never recovered from that exposure, and now lies in the little cemetery near Utica. As for me, I walked the entire night. I did not dare stop. I suppose I walked many miles back and forth on the railroad tracks before day. In Georgetown, New York, I was surprised to receive 118 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN an invitation from the proprietor of one of the leading summer hotels to address his guests in the parlor after dinner. He was careful to explain that his guests were largely Southern people, and I accepted the invitation with some reluctance, as I had never before addressed an exclusively Southern audience in a Northern state. I appeared promptly at 8 o’clock P. M., and spoke for about an hour. Never before had I experienced such a reception as I experienced that night, and I was sur- prised to see when I had finished my plea for my race that several of my audience were visibly affected. A lady, evidently of much culture, came up and, be- tween sobs, said: “I want you to know I am a Southern woman. My father owned slaves. I know all about your people; I know their faults and their virtues. I approve of all that you have said in your wonderful address. I believe you are the right man for your great task in Mississippi.” She then broke down completely, and her husband came up and took her by the arm. As he carried her away, still weeping, he winked his eye at me in a rather significant way, and said to her in a low voice: “Come on, dear; the ‘niggers’ will come through all right. When you get back down in Mississippi your cook will change your tune.” I was thoroughly surprised when I learned for the first time that I was talking to Mississippians. While I was on this tour I received a letter from Miss Fidelia Jewett, of San Francisco, and a correspondence was then begun that has never ceased. She became inter- ested in my work and visited the institution the following year. We had not finished the first building when she THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN 119 came, accompanied by her friend, Miss Martin, one of the professors of Leland Stanford University. Although we had no place to take care of guests at that time, we prepared a little rough-hewn table, provided with still rougher food, in the dirt-floor cabin. The ladies made themselves comfortable and seemed happy. They became so much interested in all that we were trying to do that Miss Jewett resolved to erect a building for us in mem- ory of her mother. This building is known as the Mary K. Jewett Memorial Hall, and is one of our most sub- stantial buildings. As the work developed I saw that what was most needed among the people was the training and develop- ment that Dr. Washington was giving to the people of Alabama,—industrial education. So I turned my atten- tion toward starting that department. As we had no apparatus, nor shops, nor money, I decided to go to New York and see what could be done. The first person I called on was Dr. Henry E. Cobb, minister of the West End Collegiate Church. I entered his office and ap- proached him, with no little hesitation, but his cordiality surprised me. I laid my plans carefully before him and he agreed to consider them and to let me hear from him. Some weeks later, after he had corresponded with Mr. Edwards, Dr. Washington, and others, he concluded that he would help me. He invited me to come before one of his Wednesday evening prayer meetings and tell my story to his congregation, who showed surprising interest in my address. After the services a large number of the people came forward, shook my hand, and many of them left a dollar in my palm. At one time the hand-shaking was 120 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN so lively that I had to use both hands, and I went away the next morning with $250. Dr. Cobb and the members of his church, who felt that it would be desirable for the students to learn the printer’s trade, gave us a little press and two or three cases of type, while a lady gave some apparatus to start a sewing-room, and thus we had two industries. An- other person gave fifty dollars for some farm tools, and I took part of the money that had been collected that night to buy tools for the beginning of a blacksmith shop. The result was that in less than two months we had these new enterprises running, and they have been doing busi- ness ever since. They have grown until some of them are in a position to enable the students to learn valuable trades. Other industries were added from time to time until there were twenty-two on the grounds,—practical and scientific agriculture, stock raising, poultry raising, car- pentering, building and general wood-working, black- smithing, broom-making, painting, saw-milling and gen- eral lumber manufacturing, printing, bookbinding, steam engineering, electrical engineering, brick masonry, shoe- making, tailoring, plain sewing, dressmaking, millinery, laundering, and general housekeeping. Everybody was kept very busy, but a great deal of the work was imperfectly performed, and our lack of funds made it impossible for us to employ as many instructors as we needed. One teacher sometimes performed what should have been the duties of a half-dozen teachers. This in itself made it impossible for the work to be done in anything like the best possible way, and the teachers and champion prize first took and near center weighed 840 pounds ship at State Fair in Large boar herd. Swine Institute Utica 1913 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN 121 themselves were not always thoroughly trained, so it happened that, although everybody, both teachers and students, were in earnest, the teaching of trades was very often carried on in a most haphazard way. Sometimes a teacher had to be placed in charge of some division about which he or she knew almost nothing, and had to gain sufficient experience day by day to teach the pupils that came under him or her. The whole thing was an experiment, but because of the earnestness and sincerity of the workers there was a perceptible improvement from day to day. But it did not matter how hard we worked or how earnest we were, we could never reach anything like perfection, and even now after twelve years of work we find ourselves struggling toward better work in all departments but still a very long way from accomplishing such splendid results as have been accomplished by Hamp- ton, Tuskegee, and similar institutions. From time to time, however, changes have been made in the working forces, both in the academic and industrial divisions, and better, stronger, and more experienced teachers have been found and added until the work now turned out is far superior to what it used to be, although we all feel that it is still far inferior to what it should be; but there is solace in the fact that gradual improvement has been made. As the school grew in influence and in efficiency I be- gan to see more and more the wisdom of Dr. Washing- ton, not only in the kind of instruction he was giving the young Negro men and women who attended his school, but also in the influence that he sought to exercise upon the community, as a whole, white and black. In order to understand the significance, for example, of a school like 122 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN our own, it is necessary to understand the conditions under which it grew up. In the first place, it was estab- lished in the black belt section of the state, on the line between two counties, Copiah and Hinds. In Hinds County, the county in which the capital is located, there were at that time about 52,000 inhabitants, of whom 40,000 were Negroes. Of these 40,000 more than 13,000 could neither read nor write a single word. Copiah is what we call a hill county, and contained about two Ne- groes to one white person. Of the 12,000 whites in Hinds County 7,000 lived in the seven towns, thus leaving but 5,000 whites scattered over a county the extent of whose territory is nearly that of the state of Rhode Island, while a great majority of the Negroes lived in the country districts. In the imme- diate vicinity of Utica the Negroes outnumbered the whites seven to one. Outside the towns, notwithstanding this preponderance of Negroes, careful investigation re- vealed less than half a dozen comfortable Negro school- houses. Why was this so? It seems to me that it is ex- plained by the fact that the colored people were so lacking in leadership that if they attempted to build without out- side aid it took them two or three years to complete a comfortable building. Before this time had elapsed all in- terest was usually gone. There was no enthusiasm, and still less cash, so the work stopped, and the house stood incomplete,—a monument to lost enthusiasm and lack of leadership. Show me a good school building in Missis- sippi’s rural districts, and there I will show you an un- selfish young man or woman who has sacrificed time and strength to make such a building possible. There must THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN 123 first be leaders in the rural districts before there can be schools with proper buildings. I have suggested that one cause of the poor condition of schools was the poverty of the Negroes themselves as a whole. I use this word poverty advisedly, for I con- sider him poor indeed who has never learned how to make proper use of his earnings. Negroes in this sec- tion of the country make quite as much money as, if not more per capita than, is made by a similar class of farm- ers anywhere else in the country; but the greater part of this money is spent foolishly. This is the rule, though there are splendid exceptions. I have put emphasis on the fact that we must have leaders in every community be- fore we can have proper schools because I know the kind of jealousies and the bickerings that arise wherever en- terprises are undertaken. I know that there are usually two or more factions which it is difficult to get to work in harmony. In order to bring about harmony and in- duce teamwork while raising funds among the people to establish and maintain a school community, there must be a leader whose opportunities have been at least a little better than those of the average man, and who has the confidence of all factions. Then, too, whatever money is furnished by the state for the building of schools in rural districts is disbursed through the county officers who are given great latitude with the funds. The amount that any given community can obtain for a Negro school depends, to some extent at least, on the ability of the teacher in that community or on an intelligent board of trustees who can impress their needs as well as the justice of their cause upon these county officers. For 124 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN instance, there is a law on the statute books of this state to the effect that each county is entitled to an agricul- tural high school, but few counties, so far, have taken advantage of building such schools for Negroes. When our schools can send sincere, progressive men into the various counties, men who understand and can get in touch with the white officials and press their cause, agri- cultural schools will become as common for Negroes in Mississippi as they now are for whites. The matter of local taxation, however, is very impor- tant in any discussion of uplifting rural Negroes. I am fully aware of the state’s duty to educate its citizens of all colors, but I also know that Negroes should learn how to tax themselves in order to build up their own com- munity. And in order to accomplish this they need lead- ers. Dr. Booker T. Washington has fully demonstrated this fact in Macon County, Alabama, the county in which Tuskegee Institute is located. Gradually he has sent out into that county a stream of earnest, consecrated men and wonien who have gone right to the heart of the people and have turned into proper channels large sums of money that formerly went for candy, cheap jewelry, and tobacco. The result is, as I am told, that $5,000 a year is contributed now by the Negroes of Macon County, over and above what may be received from the state or any other source. Therefore our greatest effort in all these rural districts should be to teach the people how to use their own earnings for their betterment,—to use them for the substantial and not the ornamental things of life, —to teach them to depend upon themselves, to find in their own communities and about their own doors a THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN 125 means of progress and betterment, and not to look to any outside source whatever. These leaders must smite the rock and let the people drink of the waters that will flow freely. Why should people look to any other section of the country for the means of educating and uplifting themselves when they may have it here at their own doors simply by trying? From the beginning it has been our object to send out from this institution young men and women who will take the lead wherever they may locate. Our aim has been to teach them that, instead of constantly appealing for funds from everywhere else except at home, they should seek to make of every man with whom they come into contact a sort of home missionary,—one who will not only be interested in the making of his own lo- cality but who will gradually begin to look out upon the world to see if there is not something he can do toward helping someone else. Speaking of conditions, the political situation must be considered, because it certainly has its bearing upon the progress of any undertaking of the colored man in the South. When the Hon. James K. Vardaman, who up to that time had been an ordinary newspaper editor in the Delta of Mississippi, was before the people asking them to elect him Governor of the state, he made the Negro question his principal issue, and went from one end of the state to the other delivering addresses that inflamed the passions of the whites against the Negroes. Taking for his text very often some real or supposed crime of some ignorant, degraded Negro and putting it before the people in a way to arouse in them a deep hatred of all Negroes, Mr. Vardaman did a great deal to bring about strained 126 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN relations between the races,—at least, until he was better understood. Recently I heard him deliver an address in which he grew most eloquent while speaking of the natural advan- tages of Mississippi, and the applause was vociferous. But when he suddenly shifted to the dangers of woman suffrage because of the presence of large numbers of Negro women in the South there was a painful silence (quickly broken by an “Uncle Jim’s” story), and an in- telligent white gentleman, standing near me at the edge of the crowd, remarked to one of his friends: “See, he is eloquent when he is sincere; but when he gets on the Negro question he becomes tiresome.” One of Missis- sippi’s leading white citizens, turning to a Negro school- teacher who was standing near by and looking somewhat dejected, said: “Cheer up, old man. There’s plenty room in this country for us all,—especially in Mississippi. The substantial people of the South pay no attention to such stuff as this.” I remember Mr. Vardaman was quoted almost daily in the papers as saying that God Almighty created the Negro a menial, a servant of servants, a hewer of wood and a drawer of water, and that he would be this until the end of time; it was, therefore, the duty of the white man to use every effort to keep him in his place. It struck me as strange that the voters did not see in this assertion that Mr. Vardaman was flatly contradicting himself. He boldly declared that if he was elected Governor he would use all his power to prevent lynching, yet he created the impression that as a private citizen he would join a mob to lynch a Negro, under certain conditions. After he was THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN 127 elected Governor he proceeded to do just as he said,— prevent lynchings. But many citizens, among them some of his friends, refused to give him credit for this service, classing his acts with those of a man who would set his own house on fire in the rear in order that he might come around in front and show his neighbors how he could put the fire out. Mr. Vardaman not only sought to show by every pos- sible means that the education of the Negro was detri- mental to the white man, but also that it spoiled the Negro and made him useless. He abolished the only Nor- mal school for Negroes that the state possessed, claiming that the white people paid the taxes and that their money should not be spent to educate the Negro. In all this, however, he was not entirely unopposed, for there was a large contingent of the best white people throughout the state who knew that he was wrong and who did not hesitate to tell him so. Among them was the Hon. Alfred Holt Stone, of Greenville, Mississippi. Let me quote his words used in the heat of the campaign: “The public school education of the Negro is meager enough, in all conscience.” Speaking of the taxes paid, he continued: “In the form of direct taxes, it [the Negro’s tax] may not be large, but no fair-minded man can deny that indirectly the Negro pays as great a tax as any agricultural class in America. We have the sum of $139,706 paid by the Negroes in four counties of this state alone. The amount expended on Negro education in the entire state,—sixty-six counties, | believe,—is placed at about $400,000." Defending the use that the Negro makes of his education, he said: ‘What would a 128 THE BLACK MAN’S BURDEN Delta planter do, if he could not pick up a Negro who could read and write whenever he wanted him?” But the hardest blows, perhaps, were delivered upon the Vardaman following by the late Bishop Charles B. Galloway, who not only believed in fair play for all men but had the courage of his convictions. He never rushed into political conflicts except when he was fired by the wish to see justice done to the weakest and the humblest, to defend the defenseless, or to cause righteousness to prevail. When he did speak he had the advantage of great learning, accurate information, and much prestige, all of which compelled men of every political faith to stand still and listen to the truths which he propounded. I say he had an advantage because many of those who opposed him were conspicuously lacking in the qualities that he possessed. When Negro education was being assailed most vig- orously the Bishop defended it in many great utterances, from one of which I take the following extract: “T have studied, with no small degree of pains, the records of the graduates of most of the leading colored institutions of learning in this country, and I am grati- fied with the result. I have been unable to find a single graduate from any representative Christian institution that has been convicted of any infamous crime. Educa- tion elevates all people, and I deny, with all the emphasis of my being, the charge that education does not elevate and make better the black man.” While this political turmoil was going on the Utica Institute was established. It succeeded, mainly, I sup- pose, because it had no politics of its own.