Early Days at Tuskegee

During the time that I had charge of the Indians and the night-school at Hampton, I pursued some studies myself, under the direction of the instructors there. One of these instructors was the Rev. Dr. H.B. Frissell, the present Principal of the Hampton Institute, General Armstrong’s successor.

While I was in charge of the Indians and the night school at Hampton, I also studied under the instructors there. One was the Rev. Dr. H.B. Frissell, who succeeded General Armstrong and is now Principal of the Hampton Institute.

In May, 1881, near the close of my first year in teaching the night-school, in a way that I had not dared expect, the opportunity opened for me to begin my life-work. One night in the chapel, after the usual chapel exercises were over, General Armstrong referred to the fact that he had received a letter from some gentlemen in Alabama asking him to recommend some one to take charge of what was to be a normal school for the coloured people in the little town of Tuskegee in that state. These gentlemen seemed to take it for granted that no coloured man suitable for the position could be secured, and they were expecting the General to recommend a white man for the place. The next day General Armstrong sent for me to come to his office, and, much to my surprise, asked me if I thought I could fill the position in Alabama. I told him that I would be willing to try. Accordingly, he wrote to the people who had applied to him for the information, that he did not know of any white man to suggest, but if they would be willing to take a coloured man, he had one whom he could recommend. In this letter he gave them my name.

In May 1881, near the end of my first year teaching night school, an opportunity arose that I had not dared to expect. It gave me the chance to begin my life’s work. One night in the chapel, after the usual exercises, General Armstrong spoke about a letter he had received. Some gentlemen in Alabama had asked him to recommend someone to take charge of a planned teacher-training school for Black people in the small town of Tuskegee. They seemed to assume that no suitable Black man could be found for the position. They expected the General to recommend a white man instead. The next day, General Armstrong sent for me to come to his office. Much to my surprise, he asked whether I thought I could fill the position in Alabama. I told him I would be willing to try. So he wrote to the people who had asked for his recommendation. He said he knew of no white man to suggest. But if they were willing to accept a Black man, he had one he could recommend. In the letter, he gave them my name.

Several days passed before anything more was heard about the matter. Some time afterward, one Sunday evening during the chapel exercises, a messenger came in and handed the general a telegram. At the end of the exercises he read the telegram to the school. In substance, these were its words: “Booker T. Washington will suit us. Send him at once.”

Several days passed before anyone heard more about the matter. Some time later, during chapel one Sunday evening, a messenger handed the general a telegram. At the end of the service, the general read the telegram to the school. It said, in essence: “Booker T. Washington will suit us. Send him at once.”

There was a great deal of joy expressed among the students and teachers, and I received very hearty congratulations. I began to get ready at once to go to Tuskegee. I went by way of my old home in West Virginia, where I remained for several days, after which I proceeded to Tuskegee. I found Tuskegee to be a town of about two thousand inhabitants, nearly one-half of whom were coloured. It was in what was known as the Black Belt of the South. In the county in which Tuskegee is situated the coloured people outnumbered the whites by about three to one. In some of the adjoining and near-by counties the proportion was not far from six coloured persons to one white.

The students and teachers expressed great joy, and many warmly congratulated me. I began preparing for my trip to Tuskegee right away. On the way, I stopped at my old home in West Virginia for several days. Then I continued to Tuskegee. I found that Tuskegee had about two thousand residents, nearly half of whom were Black. It was in a part of the South known as the Black Belt. In the county where Tuskegee is located, Black people outnumbered white people by about three to one. In some neighboring and nearby counties, the ratio was nearly six Black people to one white person.

I have often been asked to define the term “Black Belt.” So far as I can learn, the term was first used to designate a part of the country which was distinguished by the colour of the soil. The part of the country possessing this thick, dark, and naturally rich soil was, of course, the part of the South where the slaves were most profitable, and consequently they were taken there in the largest numbers. Later, and especially since the war, the term seems to be used wholly in a political sense—that is, to designate the counties where the black people outnumber the white.

I have often been asked to define the term “Black Belt.” As far as I can tell, the term originally referred to a part of the country known for the color of its soil. This area had thick, dark, naturally rich soil. It was, of course, the part of the South where enslaved people were most profitable. As a result, they were taken there in the largest numbers. Later, especially since the war, the term seems to be used entirely in a political sense. It refers to counties where Black people outnumber white people.

Before going to Tuskegee I had expected to find there a building and all the necessary apparatus ready for me to begin teaching. To my disappointment, I found nothing of the kind. I did find, though, that which no costly building and apparatus can supply,—hundreds of hungry, earnest souls who wanted to secure knowledge.

Before going to Tuskegee, I expected to find a building and all the equipment I needed to begin teaching. To my disappointment, I found nothing of the kind. But I did find something no expensive building or equipment could provide: hundreds of eager, earnest people who wanted to learn.

Tuskegee seemed an ideal place for the school. It was in the midst of the great bulk of the Negro population, and was rather secluded, being five miles from the main line of railroad, with which it was connected by a short line. During the days of slavery, and since, the town had been a centre for the education of the white people. This was an added advantage, for the reason that I found the white people possessing a degree of culture and education that is not surpassed by many localities. While the coloured people were ignorant, they had not, as a rule, degraded and weakened their bodies by vices such as are common to the lower class of people in the large cities. In general, I found the relations between the two races pleasant. For example, the largest, and I think at that time the only hardware store in the town was owned and operated jointly by a coloured man and a white man. This copartnership continued until the death of the white partner.

Tuskegee seemed an ideal place for the school. It was in the heart of the area where most Black people lived. The town was fairly secluded, five miles from the main railroad line, with a short line connecting it to the main line. During slavery and afterward, Tuskegee had been a center of education for white people. This was another advantage because I found that the local white people were as cultured and educated as those in most places. Although the Black people lacked education, they had generally not harmed and weakened their bodies through vices common among lower-class people in large cities. In general, I found relations between the two races pleasant. For example, a Black man and a white man jointly owned and operated the largest hardware store in town. I believe it was the only hardware store there at the time. The partnership continued until the white partner died.

I found that about a year previous to my going to Tuskegee some of the coloured people who had heard something of the work of education being done at Hampton had applied to the state Legislature, through their representatives, for a small appropriation to be used in starting a normal school in Tuskegee. This request the Legislature had complied with to the extent of granting an annual appropriation of two thousand dollars. I soon learned, however, that this money could be used only for the payment of the salaries of the instructors, and that there was no provision for securing land, buildings, or apparatus. The task before me did not seem a very encouraging one. It seemed much like making bricks without straw. The coloured people were overjoyed, and were constantly offering their services in any way in which they could be of assistance in getting the school started.

I learned that about a year before I went to Tuskegee, some Black people had heard about the educational work at Hampton. Through their representatives, they had asked the state Legislature for a small grant to start a teacher-training school in Tuskegee. The Legislature had agreed to provide two thousand dollars a year. But I soon learned that the money could only be used to pay teachers’ salaries. Nothing had been provided to secure land, buildings, or equipment. The task before me did not seem very encouraging. It seemed much like making bricks without straw. The Black people were overjoyed and constantly offered to help get the school started in any way they could.

My first task was to find a place in which to open the school. After looking the town over with some care, the most suitable place that could be secured seemed to be a rather dilapidated shanty near the coloured Methodist church, together with the church itself as a sort of assembly-room. Both the church and the shanty were in about as bad condition as was possible. I recall that during the first months of school that I taught in this building it was in such poor repair that, whenever it rained, one of the older students would very kindly leave his lessons and hold an umbrella over me while I heard the recitations of the others. I remember, also, that on more than one occasion my landlady held an umbrella over me while I ate breakfast.

My first task was to find a place to open the school. After looking around town carefully, I found that the best available place seemed to be a run-down shack near the Black Methodist church. I could also use the church itself as a kind of assembly room. Both the church and the shack were in about as bad a condition as possible. During my first months teaching in the building, it was in very poor repair. Whenever it rained, one of the older students would kindly leave his lessons and hold an umbrella over me while I listened to the other students recite. I also remember that more than once, my landlady held an umbrella over me while I ate breakfast.

At the time I went to Alabama the coloured people were taking considerable interest in politics, and they were very anxious that I should become one of them politically, in every respect. They seemed to have a little distrust of strangers in this regard. I recall that one man, who seemed to have been designated by the others to look after my political destiny, came to me on several occasions and said, with a good deal of earnestness: “We wants you to be sure to vote jes’ like we votes. We can’t read de newspapers very much, but we knows how to vote, an’ we wants you to vote jes’ like we votes.” He added: “We watches de white man, and we keeps watching de white man till we finds out which way de white man’s gwine to vote; an’ when we finds out which way de white man’s gwine to vote, den we votes ’xactly de other way. Den we knows we’s right.”

When I went to Alabama, Black people were very interested in politics. They were eager for me to join them politically in every respect. They seemed somewhat distrustful of strangers when it came to politics. I remember one man who seemed to have been chosen by the others to look after my political future. He came to me several times and said earnestly: “We want you to be sure to vote just like we do. We can’t read the newspapers very much, but we know how to vote. We want you to vote just like we do.” He added: “We watch the white man until we find out which way he’s going to vote. Then we vote exactly the other way. Then we know we’re right.”

I am glad to add, however, that at the present time the disposition to vote against the white man merely because he is white is largely disappearing, and the race is learning to vote from principle, for what the voter considers to be for the best interests of both races.

I am glad to add, however, that the tendency to vote against a white man merely because he is white is largely disappearing. Black people are learning to vote on principle, for what they believe is in the best interests of both races.

I reached Tuskegee, as I have said, early in June, 1881. The first month I spent in finding accommodations for the school, and in travelling through Alabama, examining into the actual life of the people, especially in the court districts, and in getting the school advertised among the class of people that I wanted to have attend it. The most of my travelling was done over the country roads, with a mule and a cart or a mule and a buggy wagon for conveyance. I ate and slept with the people, in their little cabins. I saw their farms, their schools, their churches. Since, in the case of the most of these visits, there had been no notice given in advance that a stranger was expected, I had the advantage of seeing the real, everyday life of the people.

As I have said, I arrived in Tuskegee early in June 1881. I spent the first month finding a place for the school and traveling through Alabama. I studied how people actually lived, especially in the court districts. I also spread the word about the school among the people I wanted to attend it. I traveled mostly on country roads, using a mule and cart or a mule and buggy. I ate and slept with the people in their small cabins. I saw their farms, schools, and churches. For most of these visits, no one had been told in advance to expect a stranger. So I had the advantage of seeing the people's real, everyday lives.

In the plantation districts I found that, as a rule, the whole family slept in one room, and that in addition to the immediate family there sometimes were relatives, or others not related to the family, who slept in the same room. On more than one occasion I went outside the house to get ready for bed, or to wait until the family had gone to bed. They usually contrived some kind of a place for me to sleep, either on the floor or in a special part of another’s bed. Rarely was there any place provided in the cabin where one could bathe even the face and hands, but usually some provision was made for this outside the house, in the yard.

In the plantation districts, I found that the whole family usually slept in one room. Sometimes relatives or unrelated people slept in the same room too. More than once, I went outside the house to get ready for bed or to wait until the family had gone to bed. The family usually found a place for me to sleep, either on the floor or in part of someone else’s bed. There was rarely a place inside the cabin to wash even one’s face and hands. But there was usually some place to wash outside, in the yard.

The common diet of the people was fat pork and corn bread. At times I have eaten in cabins where they had only corn bread and “black-eye peas” cooked in plain water. The people seemed to have no other idea than to live on this fat meat and corn bread,—the meat, and the meal of which the bread was made, having been bought at a high price at a store in town, notwithstanding the fact that the land all about the cabin homes could easily have been made to produce nearly every kind of garden vegetable that is raised anywhere in the country. Their one object seemed to be to plant nothing but cotton; and in many cases cotton was planted up to the very door of the cabin.

The people commonly ate fat pork and cornbread. At times, I ate in cabins where they had only cornbread and “black-eye peas” cooked in plain water. The people seemed to have no idea of eating anything but fat meat and cornbread. They bought the meat and the cornmeal for the bread at a high price from a store in town. Yet the land around their cabins could easily have produced nearly every kind of garden vegetable grown anywhere in the country. Their only goal seemed to be to plant nothing but cotton. In many cases, they planted cotton right up to the cabin door.

In these cabin homes I often found sewing-machines which had been bought, or were being bought, on instalments, frequently at a cost of as much as sixty dollars, or showy clocks for which the occupants of the cabins had paid twelve or fourteen dollars. I remember that on one occasion when I went into one of these cabins for dinner, when I sat down to the table for a meal with the four members of the family, I noticed that, while there were five of us at the table, there was but one fork for the five of us to use. Naturally there was an awkward pause on my part. In the opposite corner of that same cabin was an organ for which the people told me they were paying sixty dollars in monthly instalments. One fork, and a sixty-dollar organ!

In these cabin homes, I often found sewing machines that had been bought, or were being paid for, in installments. They frequently cost as much as sixty dollars. I also found showy clocks for which the people living in the cabins had paid twelve or fourteen dollars. I remember one time when I went into one of these cabins for dinner. I sat down to eat with the four members of the family. Although there were five of us at the table, I noticed that we had only one fork to share. Naturally, I paused awkwardly. In the opposite corner of that same cabin was an organ. The family told me they were paying sixty dollars for it in monthly installments. One fork, and a sixty-dollar organ!

In most cases the sewing-machine was not used, the clocks were so worthless that they did not keep correct time—and if they had, in nine cases out of ten there would have been no one in the family who could have told the time of day—while the organ, of course, was rarely used for want of a person who could play upon it.

In most cases, the sewing machine was not used. The clocks were so worthless that they did not keep accurate time. Even if they had, nine times out of ten, no one in the family could have read them. And the organ, of course, was rarely used because no one could play it.

In the case to which I have referred, where the family sat down to the table for the meal at which I was their guest, I could see plainly that this was an awkward and unusual proceeding, and was done in my honour. In most cases, when the family got up in the morning, for example, the wife would put a piece of meat in a frying-pan and put a lump of dough in a “skillet,” as they called it. These utensils would be placed on the fire, and in ten or fifteen minutes breakfast would be ready. Frequently the husband would take his bread and meat in his hand and start for the field, eating as he walked. The mother would sit down in a corner and eat her breakfast, perhaps from a plate and perhaps directly from the “skillet” or frying-pan, while the children would eat their portion of the bread and meat while running about the yard. At certain seasons of the year, when meat was scarce, it was rarely that the children who were not old enough or strong enough to work in the fields would have the luxury of meat.

In the case I mentioned, the family sat down at the table for the meal I shared with them. I could see that this was awkward and unusual for them, and that they did it in my honour. In most cases, when the family got up in the morning, the wife would put a piece of meat in a frying pan. She would also put a lump of dough in a “skillet,” as they called it. She would place these utensils on the fire, and breakfast would be ready in ten or fifteen minutes. Often, the husband would take his bread and meat in his hand and head for the field, eating as he walked. The mother would sit in a corner and eat her breakfast. She might eat from a plate or directly from the “skillet” or frying pan. Meanwhile, the children would eat their share of bread and meat as they ran around the yard. At certain times of the year, meat was scarce. During those times, children who were not old enough or strong enough to work in the fields rarely enjoyed the luxury of meat.

The breakfast over, and with practically no attention given to the house, the whole family would, as a general thing, proceed to the cotton-field. Every child that was large enough to carry a hoe was put to work, and the baby—for usually there was at least one baby—would be laid down at the end of the cotton row, so that its mother could give it a certain amount of attention when she had finished chopping her row. The noon meal and the supper were taken in much the same way as the breakfast.

After breakfast, the whole family would usually go to the cotton field, giving the house almost no attention. Every child old enough to carry a hoe was put to work. The baby was laid at the end of the cotton row. There was usually at least one baby. This allowed the mother to give the baby some attention when she finished chopping her row. Lunch and supper were eaten much the same way as breakfast.

All the days of the family would be spent after much this same routine, except Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday the whole family would spent at least half a day, and often a whole day, in town. The idea in going to town was, I suppose, to do shopping, but all the shopping that the whole family had money for could have been attended to in ten minutes by one person. Still, the whole family remained in town for most of the day, spending the greater part of the time in standing on the streets, the women, too often, sitting about somewhere smoking or dipping snuff. Sunday was usually spent in going to some big meeting. With few exceptions, I found that the crops were mortgaged in the counties where I went, and that the most of the coloured farmers were in debt. The state had not been able to build schoolhouses in the country districts, and, as a rule, the schools were taught in churches or in log cabins. More than once, while on my journeys, I found that there was no provision made in the house used for school purposes for heating the building during the winter, and consequently a fire had to be built in the yard, and teacher and pupils passed in and out of the house as they got cold or warm. With few exceptions, I found the teachers in these country schools to be miserably poor in preparation for their work, and poor in moral character. The schools were in session from three to five months. There was practically no apparatus in the schoolhouses, except that occasionally there was a rough blackboard. I recall that one day I went into a schoolhouse—or rather into an abandoned log cabin that was being used as a schoolhouse—and found five pupils who were studying a lesson from one book. Two of these, on the front seat, were using the book between them; behind these were two others peeping over the shoulders of the first two, and behind the four was a fifth little fellow who was peeping over the shoulders of all four.

The family spent every day following much the same routine, except on Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday, the whole family spent at least half a day, and often the whole day, in town. I suppose they went to town to shop. But one person could have done all the shopping the family had money for in ten minutes. Still, the whole family stayed in town for most of the day. They spent most of that time standing in the streets. The women, too often, sat around somewhere smoking or dipping snuff. Sunday was usually spent attending some big meeting. With few exceptions, I found that crops were mortgaged in the counties I visited. Most Black farmers were in debt. The state had not been able to build schoolhouses in rural districts. As a rule, classes were held in churches or log cabins. More than once on my travels, I found that a school building had no provision for heating in winter. As a result, a fire had to be built in the yard. The teacher and pupils went outside when they got cold and came back in when they got warm. With few exceptions, I found that teachers in these rural schools were very poorly prepared for their work. They were also poor in moral character. The schools were open for three to five months. The schoolhouses had practically no equipment, except for an occasional rough blackboard. I remember going into one schoolhouse, or rather an abandoned log cabin being used as a schoolhouse. I found five pupils studying a lesson from one book. Two pupils on the front seat shared the book. Behind them, two others peered over their shoulders. Behind those four was a fifth little fellow peering over all their shoulders.

What I have said concerning the character of the schoolhouses and teachers will also apply quite accurately as a description of the church buildings and the ministers.

What I have said about the schoolhouses and teachers also applies quite accurately to the church buildings and ministers.

I met some very interesting characters during my travels. As illustrating the peculiar mental processes of the country people, I remember that I asked one coloured man, who was about sixty years old, to tell me something of his history. He said that he had been born in Virginia, and sold into Alabama in 1845. I asked him how many were sold at the same time. He said, “There were five of us; myself and brother and three mules.”

I met some very interesting characters during my travels. One encounter showed how country people sometimes thought in unusual ways. I asked a Black man, about sixty years old, to tell me something about his life. He said he had been born in Virginia and sold into Alabama in 1845. I asked him how many had been sold at the same time. He said, “There were five of us: my brother, three mules, and me.”

In giving all these descriptions of what I saw during my month of travel in the country around Tuskegee, I wish my readers to keep in mind the fact that there were many encouraging exceptions to the conditions which I have described. I have stated in such plain words what I saw, mainly for the reason that later I want to emphasize the encouraging changes that have taken place in the community, not wholly by the work of the Tuskegee school, but by that of other institutions as well.

In describing all that I saw during my month of travel in the countryside around Tuskegee, I want readers to remember something. There were many encouraging exceptions to the conditions I have described. I have described what I saw in plain words mainly because I want to emphasize the encouraging changes in the community later. Those changes came about through the work of the Tuskegee school, but also through the work of other institutions.