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 coloured 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 coloured people in and around Tuskegee dropped work the day

before Christmas, and that it was difficult for 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 this 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 notice 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 sugarcane.

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-coloured cards that had been designed for advertising

purposes, and were making the most of these. 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

Saviour, 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. That 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 coloured 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

labour, 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 season 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 coloured women who was 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 asking 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 favourable.

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

neighbour, whether he be a black man or a white man. I have also

advised them, where no principle is at stake, to consult the interests

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

coloured 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 coloured people

in and near Tuskegee. I think I never saw a community of people so

happy over anything as were the coloured 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 coloured man came a

distance of twelve miles and brought in his ox-cart 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 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. For 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

her to see and send up her card the lady was detained a little before

she could see Miss Davidson, and when she entered the parlour 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 a 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 favour 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 centre 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 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 the 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 momento.

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 laboured. 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 education

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 to 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.