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Boyhood Days Chapter II of "Up From Slavery: An Autobiography"
by Booker T. Washington
After
the coming of freedom there were two points upon which practically all the
people on our place were agreed, and I found that this was generally true
throughout the South: that they must change their names, and that they
must leave the old plantation for at least a few days or weeks in order
that they might really feel sure that they were free. In
some way a feeling got among the coloured people that it was far from
proper for them to bear the surname of their former owners, and a great
many of them took other surnames. This was one of the first signs of
freedom. When they were slaves, a coloured person was simply called
"John" or "Susan." There was seldom occasion for more
than the use of the one name. If "John" or "Susan"
belonged to a white man by the name of "Hatcher," sometimes he
was called "John Hatcher," or as often "Hatcher's
John." But there was a feeling that "John Hatcher" or
"Hatcher's John" was not the proper title by which to denote a
freeman; and so in many cases "John Hatcher" was changed to
"John S. Lincoln" or "John S. Sherman," the initial
"S" standing for no name, it being simply a part of what the
coloured man proudly called his "entitles." As
I have stated, most of the coloured people left the old plantation for a
short while at least, so as to be sure, it seemed, that they could leave
and try their freedom on to see how it felt. After they had remained away
for a while, many of the older slaves, especially, returned to their old
homes and made some kind of contract with their former owners by which
they remained on the estate. My
mother's husband, who was the stepfather of my brother John and myself,
did not belong to the same owners as did my mother. In fact, he seldom
came to our plantation. I remember seeing his there perhaps once a year,
that being about Christmas time. In some way, during the war, by running
away and following the Federal soldiers, it seems, he found his way into
the new state of West Virginia. As soon as freedom was declared, he sent
for my mother to come to the Kanawha Valley, in West Virginia. At that
time a journey from Virginia over the mountains to West Virginia was
rather a tedious and in some cases a painful undertaking. What little
clothing and few household goods we had were placed in a cart, but the
children walked the greater portion of the distance, which was several
hundred miles. I
do not think any of us ever had been very far from the plantation, and the
taking of a long journey into another state was quite an event. The
parting from our former owners and the members of our own race on the
plantation was a serious occasion. From the time of our parting till their
death we kept up a correspondence with the older members of the family,
and in later years we have kept in touch with those who were the younger
members. We were several weeks making the trip, and most of the time we
slept in the open air and did our cooking over a log fire out-of-doors.
One night I recall that we camped near an abandoned log cabin, and my
mother decided to build a fire in that for cooking, and afterward to make
a "pallet" on the floor for our sleeping. Just as the fire had
gotten well started a large black snake fully a yard and a half long
dropped down the chimney and ran out on the floor. Of course we at once
abandoned that cabin. Finally we reached our destination--a little town
called Malden, which is about five miles from Charleston, the present
capital of the state. At
that time salt-mining was the great industry in that part of West
Virginia, and the little town of Malden was right in the midst of the
salt-furnaces. My stepfather had already secured a job at a salt-furnace,
and he had also secured a little cabin for us to live in. Our new house
was no better than the one we had left on the old plantation in Virginia.
In fact, in one respect it was worse. Notwithstanding the poor condition
of our plantation cabin, we were at all times sure of pure air. Our new
home was in the midst of a cluster of cabins crowded closely together, and
as there were no sanitary regulations, the filth about the cabins was
often intolerable. Some of our neighbours were coloured people, and some
were the poorest and most ignorant and degraded white people. It was a
motley mixture. Drinking, gambling, quarrels, fights, and shockingly
immoral practices were frequent. All who lived in the little town were in
one way or another connected with the salt business. Though I was a mere
child, my stepfather put me and my brother at work in one of the furnaces.
Often I began work as early as four o'clock in the morning. The
first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge was while working
in this salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his barrels marked with a
certain number. The number allotted to my stepfather was "18."
At the close of the day's work the boss of the packers would come around
and put "18" on each of our barrels, and I soon learned to
recognize that figure wherever I saw it, and after a while got to the
point where I could make that figure, though I knew nothing about any
other figures or letters. From
the time that I can remember having any thoughts about anything, I recall
that I had an intense longing to learn to read. I determined, when quite a
small child, that, if I accomplished nothing else in life, I would in some
way get enough education to enable me to read common books and newspapers.
Soon after we got settled in some manner in our new cabin in West
Virginia, I induced my mother to get hold of a book for me. How or where
she got it I do not know, but in some way she procured an old copy of
Webster's "blue-back" spelling-book, which contained the
alphabet, followed by such meaningless words as "ab,"
"ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to devour
this book, and I think that it was the first one I ever had in my hands. I
had learned from somebody that the way to begin to read was to learn the
alphabet, so I tried in all the ways I could think of to learn it,--all of
course without a teacher, for I could find no one to teach me. At that
time there was not a single member of my race anywhere near us who could
read, and I was too timid to approach any of the white people. In some
way, within a few weeks, I mastered the greater portion of the alphabet.
In all my efforts to learn to read my mother shared fully my ambition, and
sympathized with me and aided me in every way that she could. Though she
was totally ignorant, she had high ambitions for her children, and a large
fund of good, hard, common sense, which seemed to enable her to meet and
master every situation. If I have done anything in life worth attention, I
feel sure that I inherited the disposition from my mother. In
the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a young coloured
boy who had learned to read in the state of Ohio came to Malden. As soon
as the coloured people found out that he could read, a newspaper was
secured, and at the close of nearly every day's work this young man would
be surrounded by a group of men and women who were anxious to hear him
read the news contained in the papers. How I used to envy this man! He
seemed to me to be the one young man in all the world who ought to be
satisfied with his attainments. About
this time the question of having some kind of a school opened for the
coloured children in the village began to be discussed by members of the
race. As it would be the first school for Negro children that had ever
been opened in that part of Virginia, it was, of course, to be a great
event, and the discussion excited the wildest interest. The most
perplexing question was where to find a teacher. The young man from Ohio
who had learned to read the papers was considered, but his age was against
him. In the midst of the discussion about a teacher, another young
coloured man from Ohio, who had been a soldier, in some way found his way
into town. It was soon learned that he possessed considerable education,
and he was engaged by the coloured people to teach their first school. As
yet no free schools had been started for coloured people in that section,
hence each family agreed to pay a certain amount per month, with the
understanding that the teacher was to "board 'round"--that is,
spend a day with each family. This was not bad for the teacher, for each
family tried to provide the very best on the day the teacher was to be its
guest. I recall that I looked forward with an anxious appetite to the
"teacher's day" at our little cabin. This
experience of a whole race beginning to go to school for the first time,
presents one of the most interesting studies that has ever occurred in
connection with the development of any race. Few people who were not right
in the midst of the scenes can form any exact idea of the intense desire
which the people of my race showed for an education. As I have stated, it
was a whole race trying to go to school. Few were too young, and none too
old, to make the attempt to learn. As fast as any kind of teachers could
be secured, not only were day-schools filled, but night-schools as well.
The great ambition of the older people was to try to learn to read the
Bible before they died. With this end in view men and women who were fifty
or seventy-five years old would often be found in the night-school. Some
day-schools were formed soon after freedom, but the principal book studied
in the Sunday-school was the spelling-book. Day-school, night-school,
Sunday-school, were always crowded, and often many had to be turned away
for want of room. The
opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley, however, brought to me one of
the keenest disappointments that I ever experienced. I had been working in
a salt-furnace for several months, and my stepfather had discovered that I
had a financial value, and so, when the school opened, he decided that he
could not spare me from my work. This decision seemed to cloud my every
ambition. The disappointment was made all the more severe by reason of the
fact that my place of work was where I could see the happy children
passing to and from school mornings and afternoons. Despite this
disappointment, however, I determined that I would learn something,
anyway. I applied myself with greater earnestness than ever to the
mastering of what was in the "blue-back" speller. My
mother sympathized with me in my disappointment, and sought to comfort me
in all the ways she could, and to help me find a way to learn. After a
while I succeeded in making arrangements with the teacher to give me some
lessons at night, after the day's work was done. These night lessons were
so welcome that I think I learned more at night than the other children
did during the day. My own experiences in the night-school gave me faith
in the night-school idea, with which, in after years, I had to do both at
Hampton and Tuskegee. But my boyish heart was still set upon going to the
day-school, and I let no opportunity slip to push my case. Finally I won,
and was permitted to go to the school in the day for a few months, with
the understanding that I was to rise early in the morning and work in the
furnace till nine o'clock, and return immediately after school closed in
the afternoon for at least two more hours of work. The
schoolhouse was some distance from the furnace, and as I had to work till
nine o'clock, and the school opened at nine, I found myself in a
difficulty. School would always be begun before I reached it, and
sometimes my class had recited. To get around this difficulty I yielded to
a temptation for which most people, I suppose, will condemn me; but since
it is a fact, I might as well state it. I have great faith in the power
and influence of facts. It is seldom that anything is permanently gained
by holding back a fact. There was a large clock in a little office in the
furnace. This clock, of course, all the hundred or more workmen depended
upon to regulate their hours of beginning and ending the day's work. I got
the idea that the way for me to reach school on time was to move the clock
hands from half-past eight up to the nine o'clock mark. This I found
myself doing morning after morning, till the furnace "boss"
discovered that something was wrong, and locked the clock in a case. I did
not mean to inconvenience anybody. I simply meant to reach that
schoolhouse in time. When,
however, I found myself at the school for the first time, I also found
myself confronted with two other difficulties. In the first place, I found
that all the other children wore hats or caps on their heads, and I had
neither hat nor cap. In fact, I do not remember that up to the time of
going to school I had ever worn any kind of covering upon my head, nor do
I recall that either I or anybody else had even thought anything about the
need of covering for my head. But, of course, when I saw how all the other
boys were dressed, I began to feel quite uncomfortable. As usual, I put
the case before my mother, and she explained to me that she had no money
with which to buy a "store hat," which was a rather new
institution at that time among the members of my race and was considered
quite the thing for young and old to own, but that she would find a way to
help me out of the difficulty. She accordingly got two pieces of
"homespun" (jeans) and sewed them together, and I was soon the
proud possessor of my first cap. The
lesson that my mother taught me in this has always remained with me, and I
have tried as best as I could to teach it to others. I have always felt
proud, whenever I think of the incident, that my mother had strength of
character enough not to be led into the temptation of seeming to be that
which she was not--of trying to impress my schoolmates and others with the
fact that she was able to buy me a "store hat" when she was not.
I have always felt proud that she refused to go into debt for that which
she did not have the money to pay for. Since that time I have owned many
kinds of caps and hats, but never one of which I have felt so proud as of
the cap made of the two pieces of cloth sewed together by my mother. I
have noted the fact, but without satisfaction, I need not add, that
several of the boys who began their careers with "store hats"
and who were my schoolmates and used to join in the sport that was made of
me because I had only a "homespun" cap, have ended their careers
in the penitentiary, while others are not able now to buy any kind of hat. My
second difficulty was with regard to my name, or rather A name. From the
time when I could remember anything, I had been called simply
"Booker." Before going to school it had never occurred to me
that it was needful or appropriate to have an additional name. When I
heard the schoolroll called, I noticed that all of the children had at
least two names, and some of them indulged in what seemed to me the
extravagance of having three. I was in deep perplexity, because I knew
that the teacher would demand of me at least two names, and I had only
one. By the time the occasion came for the enrolling of my name, an idea
occurred to me which I thought would make me equal to the situation; and
so, when the teacher asked me what my full name was, I calmly told him
"Booker Washington," as if I had been called by that name all my
life; and by that name I have since been known. Later in my life I found
that my mother had given me the name of "Booker Taliaferro" soon
after I was born, but in some way that part of my name seemed to disappear
and for a long while was forgotten, but as soon as I found out about it I
revived it, and made my full name "Booker Taliaferro
Washington." I think there are not many men in our country who have
had the privilege of naming themselves in the way that I have. More
than once I have tried to picture myself in the position of a boy or man
with an honoured and distinguished ancestry which I could trace back
through a period of hundreds of years, and who had not only inherited a
name, but fortune and a proud family homestead; and yet I have sometimes
had the feeling that if I had inherited these, and had been a member of a
more popular race, I should have been inclined to yield to the temptation
of depending upon my ancestry and my colour to do that for me which I
should do for myself. Years ago I resolved that because I had no ancestry
myself I would leave a record of which my children would be proud, and
which might encourage them to still higher effort. The
world should not pass judgment upon the Negro, and especially the Negro
youth, too quickly or too harshly. The Negro boy has obstacles,
discouragements, and temptations to battle with that are little know to
those not situated as he is. When a white boy undertakes a task, it is
taken for granted that he will succeed. On the other hand, people are
usually surprised if the Negro boy does not fail. In a word, the Negro
youth starts out with the presumption against him. The
influence of ancestry, however, is important in helping forward any
individual or race, if too much reliance is not placed upon it. Those who
constantly direct attention to the Negro youth's moral weaknesses, and
compare his advancement with that of white youths, do not consider the
influence of the memories which cling about the old family homesteads. I
have no idea, as I have stated elsewhere, who my grandmother was. I have,
or have had, uncles and aunts and cousins, but I have no knowledge as to
where most of them are. My case will illustrate that of hundreds of
thousands of black people in every part of our country. The very fact that
the white boy is conscious that, if he fails in life, he will disgrace the
whole family record, extending back through many generations, is of
tremendous value in helping him to resist temptations. The fact that the
individual has behind and surrounding him proud family history and
connection serves as a stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when
striving for success. The
time that I was permitted to attend school during the day was short, and
my attendance was irregular. It was not long before I had to stop
attending day-school altogether, and devote all of my time again to work.
I resorted to the night-school again. In fact, the greater part of the
education I secured in my boyhood was gathered through the night-school
after my day's work was done. I had difficulty often in securing a
satisfactory teacher. Sometimes, after I had secured some one to teach me
at night, I would find, much to my disappointment, that the teacher knew
but little more than I did. Often I would have to walk several miles at
night in order to recite my night-school lessons. There was never a time
in my youth, no matter how dark and discouraging the days might be, when
one resolve did not continually remain with me, and that was a
determination to secure an education at any cost. Soon
after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted into our family,
notwithstanding our poverty, an orphan boy, to whom afterward we gave the
name of James B. Washington. He has ever since remained a member of the
family. After
I had worked in the salt-furnace for some time, work was secured for me in
a coal-mine which was operated mainly for the purpose of securing fuel for
the salt-furnace. Work in the coal-mine I always dreaded. One reason for
this was that any one who worked in a coal-mine was always unclean, at
least while at work, and it was a very hard job to get one's skin clean
after the day's work was over. Then it was fully a mile from the opening
of the coal-mine to the face of the coal, and all, of course, was in the
blackest darkness. I do not believe that one ever experiences anywhere
else such darkness as he does in a coal-mine. The mine was divided into a
large number of different "rooms" or departments, and, as I
never was able to learn the location of all these "rooms," I
many times found myself lost in the mine. To add to the horror of being
lost, sometimes my light would go out, and then, if I did not happen to
have a match, I would wander about in the darkness until by chance I found
some one to give me a light. The work was not only hard, but it was
dangerous. There was always the danger of being blown to pieces by a
premature explosion of powder, or of being crushed by falling slate.
Accidents from one or the other of these causes were frequently occurring,
and this kept me in constant fear. Many children of the tenderest years
were compelled then, as is now true I fear, in most coal-mining districts,
to spend a large part of their lives in these coal-mines, with little
opportunity to get an education; and, what is worse, I have often noted
that, as a rule, young boys who begin life in a coal-mine are often
physically and mentally dwarfed. They soon lose ambition to do anything
else than to continue as a coal-miner. In
those days, and later as a young man, I used to try to picture in my
imagination the feelings and ambitions of a white boy with absolutely no
limit placed upon his aspirations and activities. I used to envy the white
boy who had no obstacles placed in the way of his becoming a Congressman,
Governor, Bishop, or President by reason of the accident of his birth or
race. I used to picture the way that I would act under such circumstances;
how I would begin at the bottom and keep rising until I reached the
highest round of success. In
later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy as I once did. I
have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position
that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome
while trying to succeed. Looked at from this standpoint, I almost reached
the conclusion that often the Negro boy's birth and connection with an
unpopular race is an advantage, so far as real life is concerned. With few
exceptions, the Negro youth must work harder and must perform his tasks
even better than a white youth in order to secure recognition. But out of
the hard and unusual struggle through which he is compelled to pass, he
gets a strength, a confidence, that one misses whose pathway is
comparatively smooth by reason of birth and race. From
any point of view, I had rather be what I am, a member of the Negro race,
than be able to claim membership with the most favoured of any other race.
I have always been made sad when I have heard members of any race claiming
rights or privileges, or certain badges of distinction, on the ground
simply that they were members of this or that race, regardless of their
own individual worth or attainments. I have been made to feel sad for such
persons because I am conscious of the fact that mere connection with what
is known as a superior race will not permanently carry an individual
forward unless he has individual worth, and mere connection with what is
regarded as an inferior race will not finally hold an individual back if
he possesses intrinsic, individual merit. Every persecuted individual and
race should get much consolation out of the great human law, which is
universal and eternal, that merit, no matter under what skin found, is, in
the long run, recognized and rewarded. This I have said here, not to call
attention to myself as an individual, but to the race to which I am proud
to belong. |
