Raising Money

When we opened our boarding department, we provided rooms in the attic of Porter Hall, our first building, for a number of girls. But the number of students, of both sexes, continued to increase. We could find rooms outside the school grounds for many of the young men, but the girls we did not care to expose in this way. Very soon the problem of providing more rooms for the girls, as well as a larger boarding department for all the students, grew serious. As a result, we finally decided to undertake the construction of a still larger building—a building that would contain rooms for the girls and boarding accommodations for all.

When we opened our boarding department, we provided rooms for several girls in the attic of Porter Hall, our first building. But the number of students, both male and female, kept growing. We could find rooms off campus for many of the young men, but we did not want to expose the girls to the same situation. Soon, the need for more rooms for the girls and a larger boarding department for all the students became serious. As a result, we finally decided to build an even larger building. It would have rooms for the girls and boarding facilities for all the students.

After having had a preliminary sketch of the needed building made, we found that it would cost about ten thousand dollars. We had no money whatever with which to begin; still we decided to give the needed building a name. We knew we could name it, even though we were in doubt about our ability to secure the means for its construction. We decided to call the proposed building Alabama Hall, in honour of the state in which we were labouring. Again Miss Davidson began making efforts to enlist the interest and help of the coloured and white people in and near Tuskegee. They responded willingly, in proportion to their means. The students, as in the case of our first building, Porter Hall, began digging out the dirt in order to allow the laying of the foundations.

After a preliminary sketch of the needed building was made, we learned that it would cost about ten thousand dollars. We had no money at all to begin construction, but we decided to give the building a name. We knew we could name the building, even though we doubted we could raise the money to build it. We decided to call it Alabama Hall, in honor of the state where we were working. Once again, Miss Davidson set out to gain the interest and help of Black and white people in and near Tuskegee. They willingly gave what they could afford. As they had for our first building, Porter Hall, the students began digging the ground for the foundations.

When we seemed at the end of our resources, so far as securing money was concerned, something occurred which showed the greatness of General Armstrong—something which proved how far he was above the ordinary individual. When we were in the midst of great anxiety as to where and how we were to get funds for the new building, I received a telegram from General Armstrong asking me if I could spend a month travelling with him through the North, and asking me, if I could do so, to come to Hampton at once. Of course I accepted General Armstrong’s invitation, and went to Hampton immediately. On arriving there I found that the General had decided to take a quartette of singers through the North, and hold meetings for a month in important cities, at which meetings he and I were to speak. Imagine my surprise when the General told me, further, that these meetings were to be held, not in the interests of Hampton, but in the interests of Tuskegee, and that the Hampton Institute was to be responsible for all the expenses.

When we seemed to have exhausted our resources for raising money, something happened that showed General Armstrong’s greatness. It proved how far he stood above the ordinary person. We were deeply anxious about where and how to find funds for the new building. Then I received a telegram from General Armstrong. He asked whether I could spend a month traveling with him through the North. If I could, he asked me to come to Hampton at once. Of course, I accepted his invitation and went to Hampton immediately. When I arrived, I found that the General had decided to take a quartet of singers through the North. He planned to hold meetings in important cities for a month, where he and I would speak. Imagine my surprise when the General told me more. The meetings were not to benefit Hampton, but Tuskegee. And the Hampton Institute would pay all the expenses.

Although he never told me so in so many words, I found that General Armstrong took this method of introducing me to the people of the North, as well as for the sake of securing some immediate funds to be used in the erection of Alabama Hall. A weak and narrow man would have reasoned that all the money which came to Tuskegee in this way would be just so much taken from the Hampton Institute; but none of these selfish or short-sighted feelings ever entered the breast of General Armstrong. He was too big to be little, too good to be mean. He knew that the people in the North who gave money gave it for the purpose of helping the whole cause of Negro civilization, and not merely for the advancement of any one school. The General knew, too, that the way to strengthen Hampton was to make it a centre of unselfish power in the working out of the whole Southern problem.

Although General Armstrong never said so directly, I realized he used this method to introduce me to people in the North. He also wanted to raise immediate funds to build Alabama Hall. A weak and narrow-minded man would have thought that every dollar Tuskegee received this way was taken from Hampton Institute. But General Armstrong never had such selfish or short-sighted feelings. He was too big to be little, too good to be mean. He knew that people in the North gave money to help the whole cause of Negro advancement, not just one school. The General also knew that the way to strengthen Hampton was to make it a center of unselfish power in solving the whole problem of the South.

In regard to the addresses which I was to make in the North, I recall just one piece of advice which the General gave me. He said: “Give them an idea for every word.” I think it would be hard to improve upon this advice; and it might be made to apply to all public speaking. From that time to the present I have always tried to keep his advice in mind.

I remember just one piece of advice the General gave me about the speeches I was to give in the North. He said: “Give them an idea for every word.” I think it would be hard to improve on that advice. It could apply to all public speaking. From then until now, I have always tried to keep his advice in mind.

Meetings were held in New York, Brooklyn, Boston, Philadelphia, and other large cities, and at all of these meetings General Armstrong pleaded, together with myself, for help, not for Hampton, but for Tuskegee. At these meetings an especial effort was made to secure help for the building of Alabama Hall, as well as to introduce the school to the attention of the general public. In both these respects the meetings proved successful.

Meetings were held in New York, Brooklyn, Boston, Philadelphia, and other large cities. At all of them, General Armstrong and I appealed for help, not for Hampton, but for Tuskegee. We made a special effort at these meetings to raise money to build Alabama Hall. We also sought to bring the school to the attention of the general public. The meetings succeeded in both respects.

After that kindly introduction I began going North alone to secure funds. During the last fifteen years I have been compelled to spend a large proportion of my time away from the school, in an effort to secure money to provide for the growing needs of the institution. In my efforts to get funds I have had some experiences that may be of interest to my readers. Time and time again I have been asked, by people who are trying to secure money for philanthropic purposes, what rule or rules I followed to secure the interest and help of people who were able to contribute money to worthy objects. As far as the science of what is called begging can be reduced to rules, I would say that I have had but two rules. First, always to do my whole duty regarding making our work known to individuals and organizations; and, second, not to worry about the results. This second rule has been the hardest for me to live up to. When bills are on the eve of falling due, with not a dollar in hand with which to meet them, it is pretty difficult to learn not to worry, although I think I am learning more and more each year that all worry simply consumes, and to no purpose, just so much physical and mental strength that might otherwise be given to effective work. After considerable experience in coming into contact with wealthy and noted men, I have observed that those who have accomplished the greatest results are those who “keep under the body”; are those who never grow excited or lose self-control, but are always calm, self-possessed, patient, and polite. I think that President William McKinley is the best example of a man of this class that I have ever seen.

After that kind introduction, I began traveling North alone to raise funds. For the past fifteen years, I have had to spend much of my time away from the school. I have been trying to raise money for the institution’s growing needs. In doing so, I have had some experiences that may interest my readers. People trying to raise money for charitable purposes have asked me the same question again and again. They want to know what rules I followed to gain the interest and help of people who could contribute to worthy causes. As far as the science of what is called begging can be reduced to rules, I have followed only two. First, I always do my full duty in making our work known to individuals and organizations. Second, I try not to worry about the results. The second rule has been the harder one to follow. When bills are about to come due and there is not a dollar on hand to pay them, it is very difficult not to worry. Still, each year I think I am learning more and more that all worry simply wastes physical and mental strength. That strength could instead be used for effective work. After considerable experience with wealthy and well-known men, I have noticed something about those who have achieved the greatest results. They are the ones who “keep under the body.” They never become excited or lose self-control. Instead, they are always calm, composed, patient, and polite. I think President William McKinley is the best example of this kind of man that I have ever seen.

In order to be successful in any kind of undertaking, I think the main thing is for one to grow to the point where he completely forgets himself; that is, to lose himself in a great cause. In proportion as one loses himself in the way, in the same degree does he get the highest happiness out of his work.

I think the key to success in any undertaking is to grow until you completely forget yourself. In other words, you must lose yourself in a great cause. The more you lose yourself in this way, the more happiness you will find in your work.

My experience in getting money for Tuskegee has taught me to have no patience with those people who are always condemning the rich because they are rich, and because they do not give more to objects of charity. In the first place, those who are guilty of such sweeping criticisms do not know how many people would be made poor, and how much suffering would result, if wealthy people were to part all at once with any large proportion of their wealth in a way to disorganize and cripple great business enterprises. Then very few persons have any idea of the large number of applications for help that rich people are constantly being flooded with. I know wealthy people who receive as much as twenty calls a day for help. More than once when I have gone into the offices of rich men, I have found half a dozen persons waiting to see them, and all come for the same purpose, that of securing money. And all these calls in person, to say nothing of the applications received through the mails. Very few people have any idea of the amount of money given away by persons who never permit their names to be known. I have often heard persons condemned for not giving away money, who, to my own knowledge, were giving away thousands of dollars every year so quietly that the world knew nothing about it.

My experience raising money for Tuskegee has taught me to have no patience with some people. They are always condemning the rich for being rich and for not giving more to charitable causes. First, people who make such sweeping criticisms do not understand the consequences. If wealthy people gave away a large portion of their wealth all at once, they could disrupt and cripple major businesses. Many people would be made poor, and much suffering would result. Also, very few people know how many requests for help rich people constantly receive. I know wealthy people who receive as many as twenty requests for help a day. More than once, I have gone into a rich man's office and found half a dozen people waiting to see him. They had all come for the same purpose: to get money. And those were just the requests made in person, not counting the ones received by mail. Very few people know how much money is given away by people who never allow their names to be known. I have often heard people condemned for not giving away money. Yet I knew they were giving away thousands of dollars every year, so quietly that the world knew nothing about it.

As an example of this, there are two ladies in New York, whose names rarely appear in print, but who, in a quiet way, have given us the means with which to erect three large and important buildings during the last eight years. Besides the gift of these buildings, they have made other generous donations to the school. And they not only help Tuskegee, but they are constantly seeking opportunities to help other worthy causes.

As an example, two women in New York rarely have their names mentioned in print. But over the past eight years, they have quietly given us the money to build three large and important buildings. Besides paying for these buildings, they have made other generous donations to the school. They not only help Tuskegee, but also constantly look for opportunities to support other worthy causes.

Although it has been my privilege to be the medium through which a good many hundred thousand dollars have been received for the work at Tuskegee, I have always avoided what the world calls “begging.” I often tell people that I have never “begged” any money, and that I am not a “beggar.” My experience and observation have convinced me that persistent asking outright for money from the rich does not, as a rule, secure help. I have usually proceeded on the principle that persons who possess sense enough to earn money have sense enough to know how to give it away, and that the mere making known of the facts regarding Tuskegee, and especially the facts regarding the work of the graduates, has been more effective than outright begging. I think that the presentation of facts, on a high, dignified plane, is all the begging that most rich people care for.

Although I have had the privilege of helping Tuskegee receive many hundreds of thousands of dollars, I have always avoided what people call “begging.” I often tell people that I have never “begged” for money and that I am not a “beggar.” My experience and observation have convinced me that repeatedly asking rich people directly for money usually does not bring help. I have generally worked on the principle that people sensible enough to earn money are sensible enough to know how to give it away. Simply sharing the facts about Tuskegee, especially the work of its graduates, has been more effective than begging outright. I think that presenting facts in a dignified way is all the begging that most rich people care for.

While the work of going from door to door and from office to office is hard, disagreeable, and costly in bodily strength, yet it has some compensations. Such work gives one a rare opportunity to study human nature. It also has its compensations in giving one an opportunity to meet some of the best people in the world—to be more correct, I think I should say the best people in the world. When one takes a broad survey of the country, he will find that the most useful and influential people in it are those who take the deepest interest in institutions that exist for the purpose of making the world better.

Going from door to door and from office to office is hard, unpleasant, and physically exhausting. But the work has its rewards. It offers a rare chance to study human nature. It also offers a chance to meet some of the best people in the world. To be more accurate, I think I should say the best people in the world. Looking across the country, one finds that the most useful and influential people take the deepest interest in institutions that exist to make the world better.

At one time, when I was in Boston, I called at the door of a rather wealthy lady, and was admitted to the vestibule and sent up my card. While I was waiting for an answer, her husband came in, and asked me in the most abrupt manner what I wanted. When I tried to explain the object of my call, he became still more ungentlemanly in his words and manner, and finally grew so excited that I left the house without waiting for a reply from the lady. A few blocks from that house I called to see a gentleman who received me in the most cordial manner. He wrote me his check for a generous sum, and then, before I had had an opportunity to thank him, said: “I am so grateful to you, Mr. Washington, for giving me the opportunity to help a good cause. It is a privilege to have a share in it. We in Boston are constantly indebted to you for doing our work.” My experience in securing money convinces me that the first type of man is growing more rare all the time, and that the latter type is increasing; that is, that, more and more, rich people are coming to regard men and women who apply to them for help for worthy objects, not as beggars, but as agents for doing their work.

Once, when I was in Boston, I called at the home of a rather wealthy woman. I was let into the entryway and sent my card up to her. While I waited for her answer, her husband came in and asked me very abruptly what I wanted. When I tried to explain why I had come, his words and manner became even ruder. Finally, he grew so agitated that I left without waiting for the woman’s reply. A few blocks away, I called on a man who received me very warmly. He wrote me a check for a generous sum. Before I could thank him, he said: “I am so grateful to you, Mr. Washington, for giving me the opportunity to help a good cause. It is a privilege to have a share in it. We in Boston are always indebted to you for doing our work.” My experience raising money convinces me that the first kind of man is becoming rarer all the time. The second kind is becoming more common. More and more, wealthy people see men and women who ask for help with worthy causes as people doing their work, not as beggars.

In the city of Boston I have rarely called upon an individual for funds that I have not been thanked for calling, usually before I could get an opportunity to thank the donor for the money. In that city the donors seem to feel, in a large degree, that an honour is being conferred upon them in their being permitted to give. Nowhere else have I met with, in so large a measure, this fine and Christlike spirit as in the city of Boston, although there are many notable instances of it outside that city. I repeat my belief that the world is growing in the direction of giving. I repeat that the main rule by which I have been guided in collecting money is to do my full duty in regard to giving people who have money an opportunity for help.

In Boston, I have rarely asked someone for money without being thanked for coming. Usually, the person thanks me before I have a chance to thank them for their donation. In that city, donors seem to feel, to a great extent, that being allowed to give is an honor. Nowhere else have I found so much of this fine and Christlike spirit as in Boston, although there are many notable examples outside the city. I repeat my belief that the world is becoming more generous. I also repeat the main rule that has guided me in raising money: to do my full duty by giving people with money an opportunity to help.

In the early years of the Tuskegee school I walked the streets or travelled country roads in the North for days and days without receiving a dollar. Often as it happened, when during the week I had been disappointed in not getting a cent from the very individuals from whom I most expected help, and when I was almost broken down and discouraged, that generous help has come from some one who I had had little idea would give at all.

In the early years of the Tuskegee school, I spent days walking city streets or traveling country roads in the North without receiving a dollar. During the week, I was often disappointed when the very people I most expected to help gave me nothing. When I was almost exhausted and discouraged, generous help often came from someone I had hardly expected to give anything.

I recall that on one occasion I obtained information that led me to believe that a gentleman who lived about two miles out in the country from Stamford, Conn., might become interested in our efforts at Tuskegee if our conditions and needs were presented to him. On an unusually cold and stormy day I walked the two miles to see him. After some difficulty I succeeded in securing an interview with him. He listened with some degree of interest to what I had to say, but did not give me anything. I could not help having the feeling that, in a measure, the three hours that I had spent in seeing him had been thrown away. Still, I had followed my usual rule of doing my duty. If I had not seen him, I should have felt unhappy over neglect of duty.

I remember learning about a gentleman who lived about two miles outside Stamford, Conn. I thought he might take an interest in our work at Tuskegee if someone explained our situation and needs to him. On an unusually cold and stormy day, I walked the two miles to see him. After some difficulty, I managed to meet with him. He listened with some interest to what I had to say, but he did not give me anything. I could not help feeling that the three hours I had spent seeing him had been partly wasted. Still, I had followed my usual rule of doing my duty. If I had not seen him, I would have felt unhappy about neglecting my duty.

Two years after this visit a letter came to Tuskegee from this man, which read like this: “Enclosed I send you a New York draft for ten thousand dollars, to be used in furtherance of your work. I had placed this sum in my will for your school, but deem it wiser to give it to you while I live. I recall with pleasure your visit to me two years ago.”

Two years after this visit, the man sent a letter to Tuskegee. It read: “I am enclosing a New York draft for ten thousand dollars to help further your work. I had left this sum to your school in my will, but I think it is wiser to give it to you while I am alive. I remember your visit two years ago with pleasure.”

I can hardly imagine any occurrence which could have given me more genuine satisfaction than the receipt of this draft. It was by far the largest single donation which up to that time the school had ever received. It came at a time when an unusually long period had passed since we had received any money. We were in great distress because of lack of funds, and the nervous strain was tremendous. It is difficult for me to think of any situation that is more trying on the nerves than that of conducting a large institution, with heavy obligations to meet, without knowing where the money is to come from to meet these obligations from month to month.

I can hardly imagine anything that could have given me more genuine satisfaction than receiving this check. It was by far the largest single donation the school had received up to that time. It came after an unusually long period in which we had received no money. We were in great distress because we lacked funds, and the nervous strain was tremendous. It is hard for me to imagine anything more stressful than running a large institution with major obligations to meet. Each month, you do not know where the money will come from to meet those obligations.

In our case I felt a double responsibility, and this made the anxiety all the more intense. If the institution had been officered by white persons, and had failed, it would have injured the cause of Negro education; but I knew that the failure of our institution, officered by Negroes, would not only mean the loss of a school, but would cause people, in a large degree, to lose faith in the ability of the entire race. The receipt of this draft for ten thousand dollars, under all these circumstances, partially lifted a burden that had been pressing down upon me for days.

In our case, I felt a double responsibility, which made me even more anxious. If white people had run the institution and it had failed, the failure would have harmed the cause of Black education. But our institution was run by Black people. I knew that if it failed, the loss would not be limited to one school. To a large extent, people would also lose faith in the ability of the entire race. Under these circumstances, receiving the draft for ten thousand dollars partly lifted a burden that had weighed on me for days.

From the beginning of our work to the present I have always had the feeling, and lose no opportunity to impress our teachers with the same idea, that the school will always be supported in proportion as the inside of the institution is kept clean and pure and wholesome.

From the beginning of our work until now, I have always believed that support for the school depends on how clean, pure, and wholesome the institution remains on the inside. I take every opportunity to impress this idea on our teachers.

The first time I ever saw the late Collis P. Huntington, the great railroad man, he gave me two dollars for our school. The last time I saw him, which was a few months before he died, he gave me fifty thousand dollars toward our endowment fund. Between these two gifts there were others of generous proportions which came every year from both Mr. and Mrs. Huntington.

The first time I met Collis P. Huntington, the great railroad man, he gave two dollars to our school. The last time I saw him was a few months before he died. He gave fifty thousand dollars toward our endowment fund. Between those two gifts, Mr. and Mrs. Huntington also gave generous amounts every year.

Some people may say that it was Tuskegee’s good luck that brought to us this gift of fifty thousand dollars. No, it was not luck. It was hard work. Nothing ever comes to me, that is worth having, except as the result of hard work. When Mr. Huntington gave me the first two dollars, I did not blame him for not giving me more, but made up my mind that I was going to convince him by tangible results that we were worthy of larger gifts. For a dozen years I made a strong effort to convince Mr. Huntington of the value of our work. I noted that just in proportion as the usefulness of the school grew, his donations increased. Never did I meet an individual who took a more kindly and sympathetic interest in our school than did Mr. Huntington. He not only gave money to us, but took time in which to advise me, as a father would a son, about the general conduct of the school.

Some people may say Tuskegee was lucky to receive this gift of fifty thousand dollars. No, it was not luck. It was hard work. Nothing worth having ever comes to me except through hard work. When Mr. Huntington gave me the first two dollars, I did not blame him for not giving more. Instead, I decided to show him real results and prove that we deserved larger gifts. For twelve years, I worked hard to convince Mr. Huntington of the value of our work. I noticed that his donations grew as the school became more useful. I never met anyone who took a kinder or more sympathetic interest in our school than Mr. Huntington. He not only gave us money but also took time to advise me about running the school, as a father would advise a son.

More than once I have found myself in some pretty tight places while collecting money in the North. The following incident I have never related but once before, for the reason that I feared that people would not believe it. One morning I found myself in Providence, Rhode Island, without a cent of money with which to buy breakfast. In crossing the street to see a lady from whom I hoped to get some money, I found a bright new twenty-five-cent piece in the middle of the street track. I not only had this twenty-five cents for my breakfast, but within a few minutes I had a donation from the lady on whom I had started to call.

More than once, I found myself in a tight spot while collecting money in the North. I have told the following story only once before because I feared people would not believe it. One morning, I found myself in Providence, Rhode Island, without a cent to buy breakfast. I crossed the street to visit a lady from whom I hoped to get some money. In the middle of the streetcar track, I found a bright new quarter. Not only did I have the quarter for breakfast, but within a few minutes, the lady I had set out to visit gave me a donation.

At one of our Commencements I was bold enough to invite the Rev. E. Winchester Donald, D.D., rector of Trinity Church, Boston, to preach the Commencement sermon. As we then had no room large enough to accommodate all who would be present, the place of meeting was under a large improvised arbour, built partly of brush and partly of rough boards. Soon after Dr. Donald had begun speaking, the rain came down in torrents, and he had to stop, while someone held an umbrella over him.

At one of our commencement ceremonies, I was bold enough to invite the Rev. E. Winchester Donald, D.D., rector of Trinity Church, Boston, to give the commencement sermon. At the time, we had no room large enough for everyone who would attend. So we met under a large makeshift shelter, built partly of branches and partly of rough boards. Soon after Dr. Donald began speaking, rain poured down, and he had to stop while someone held an umbrella over him.

The boldness of what I had done never dawned upon me until I saw the picture made by the rector of Trinity Church standing before that large audience under an old umbrella, waiting for the rain to cease so that he could go on with his address.

I did not realize how bold I had been until I saw the rector of Trinity Church before that large audience. He stood under an old umbrella, waiting for the rain to stop so he could continue his speech.

It was not very long before the rain ceased and Dr. Donald finished his sermon; and an excellent sermon it was, too, in spite of the weather. After he had gone to his room, and had gotten the wet threads of his clothes dry, Dr. Donald ventured the remark that a large chapel at Tuskegee would not be out of place. The next day a letter came from two ladies who were then travelling in Italy, saying that they had decided to give us the money for such a chapel as we needed.

Before long, the rain stopped and Dr. Donald finished his sermon. It was an excellent sermon, despite the weather. After going to his room and drying his wet clothes, Dr. Donald suggested that a large chapel at Tuskegee would be appropriate. The next day, a letter arrived from two ladies who were traveling in Italy. They said they had decided to give us the money for the kind of chapel we needed.

A short time ago we received twenty thousand dollars from Mr. Andrew Carnegie, to be used for the purpose of erecting a new library building. Our first library and reading-room were in a corner of a shanty, and the whole thing occupied a space about five by twelve feet. It required ten years of work before I was able to secure Mr. Carnegie’s interest and help. The first time I saw him, ten years ago, he seemed to take but little interest in our school, but I was determined to show him that we were worthy of his help. After ten years of hard work I wrote him a letter reading as follows:

Recently, we received twenty thousand dollars from Mr. Andrew Carnegie to build a new library. Our first library and reading room were in a corner of a shanty. The whole space was about five by twelve feet. It took ten years of work before I gained Mr. Carnegie’s interest and help. When I first met him ten years ago, he seemed to have little interest in our school. But I was determined to show him that we were worthy of his help. After ten years of hard work, I wrote him the following letter:

December 15, 1900.

December 15, 1900.

Mr. Andrew Carnegie, 5 W. Fifty-first St., New York.

Mr. Andrew Carnegie, 5 West 51st Street, New York.

Dear Sir: Complying with the request which you made of me when I saw you at your residence a few days ago, I now submit in writing an appeal for a library building for our institution.

Dear Sir: When I visited your home a few days ago, you asked me to submit a written appeal. I am now doing so to request a library building for our institution.

We have 1100 students, 86 officers and instructors, together with their families, and about 200 coloured people living near the school, all of whom would make use of the library building.

We have 1,100 students and 86 staff members and instructors, along with their families. About 200 Black people also live near the school. All of them would use the library building.

We have over 12,000 books, periodicals, etc., gifts from our friends, but we have no suitable place for them, and we have no suitable reading-room.

Our friends have given us more than 12,000 books, periodicals, and other items. But we have no suitable place to keep them, and we have no suitable reading room.

Our graduates go to work in every section of the South, and whatever knowledge might be obtained in the library would serve to assist in the elevation of the whole Negro race.

Our graduates work throughout the South. And whatever knowledge they might gain from the library would help advance the entire Black race.

Such a building as we need could be erected for about $20,000. All of the work for the building, such as brickmaking, brick-masonry, carpentry, blacksmithing, etc., would be done by the students. The money which you would give would not only supply the building, but the erection of the building would give a large number of students an opportunity to learn the building trades, and the students would use the money paid to them to keep themselves in school. I do not believe that a similar amount of money often could be made go so far in uplifting a whole race.

A building like the one we need could be built for about $20,000. Students would do all the work, including brickmaking, bricklaying, carpentry, blacksmithing, and other trades. Your money would not only provide the building. Building it would also give many students a chance to learn the building trades. The students would use the money paid to them to stay in school. I do not believe that the same amount of money could often do so much to uplift an entire race.

If you wish further information, I shall be glad to furnish it.

If you would like more information, I would be glad to provide it.

Yours truly,

Sincerely,

Booker T. Washington, Principal.

Booker T. Washington, Principal.

The next mail brought back the following reply: “I will be very glad to pay the bills for the library building as they are incurred, to the extent of twenty thousand dollars, and I am glad of this opportunity to show the interest I have in your noble work.”

The next mail brought this reply: “I will be very glad to pay the library building bills as they come in, up to twenty thousand dollars. I am glad to have this chance to show my interest in your noble work.”

I have found that strict business methods go a long way in securing the interest of rich people. It has been my constant aim at Tuskegee to carry out, in our financial and other operations, such business methods as would be approved of by any New York banking house.

I have found that sound business practices go a long way toward gaining the interest of wealthy people. At Tuskegee, I have always aimed to use business practices that any New York bank would approve of. This applies to our financial and other operations.

I have spoken of several large gifts to the school; but by far the greater proportion of the money that has built up the institution has come in the form of small donations from persons of moderate means. It is upon these small gifts, which carry with them the interest of hundreds of donors, that any philanthropic work must depend largely for its support. In my efforts to get money I have often been surprised at the patience and deep interest of the ministers, who are besieged on every hand and at all hours of the day for help. If no other consideration had convinced me of the value of the Christian life, the Christlike work which the Church of all denominations in America has done during the last thirty-five years for the elevation of the black man would have made me a Christian. In a large degree it has been the pennies, the nickels, and the dimes which have come from the Sunday-schools, the Christian Endeavour societies, and the missionary societies, as well as from the church proper, that have helped to elevate the Negro at so rapid a rate.

I have mentioned several large gifts to the school. But by far the largest share of the money that built up the institution came from small donations. These came from people of modest means. Any charitable work must depend largely on such gifts for support. These gifts also bring the interest of hundreds of donors. While raising money, I have often been surprised by the patience and deep interest of ministers. People approach them from every direction and at all hours of the day, asking for help. If nothing else had convinced me of the value of the Christian life, one thing would have made me a Christian. That was the Christlike work of the Church of all denominations in America to uplift Black people over the past thirty-five years. Much of the support for the rapid advancement of Black people has come in pennies, nickels, and dimes. These small gifts have come from Sunday schools, Christian Endeavour societies, missionary societies, and churches themselves.

This speaking of small gifts reminds me to say that very few Tuskegee graduates fail to send us an annual contribution. These contributions range from twenty-five cents up to ten dollars.

Speaking of small gifts reminds me that very few Tuskegee graduates fail to send us a contribution each year. These contributions range from twenty-five cents to ten dollars.

Soon after beginning our third year’s work we were surprised to receive money from three special sources, and up to the present time we have continued to receive help from them. First, the State Legislature of Alabama increased its annual appropriation from two thousand dollars to three thousand dollars; I might add that still later it increased this sum to four thousand five hundred dollars a year. The effort to secure this increase was led by the Hon. M.F. Foster, the member of the Legislature from Tuskegee. Second, we received one thousand dollars from the John F. Slater Fund. Our work seemed to please the trustees of this fund, as they soon began increasing their annual grant. This has been added to from time to time until at present we receive eleven thousand dollars annually from the Fund. The other help to which I have referred came in the shape of an allowance from the Peabody Fund. This was at first five hundred dollars, but it has since been increased to fifteen hundred dollars.

Soon after we began our third year of work, we were surprised to receive money from three special sources. We have continued to receive help from them up to the present. First, the Alabama State Legislature increased its annual appropriation from two thousand dollars to three thousand dollars. I might add that it later increased the amount to four thousand five hundred dollars a year. The Hon. M.F. Foster, the legislator from Tuskegee, led the effort to secure this increase. Second, we received one thousand dollars from the John F. Slater Fund. Our work seemed to please the fund’s trustees, as they soon began increasing their annual grant. The grant has increased from time to time, and we now receive eleven thousand dollars annually from the fund. The other help I mentioned came as an allowance from the Peabody Fund. The allowance was initially five hundred dollars, but it has since increased to fifteen hundred dollars.

The effort to secure help from the Slater and Peabody Funds brought me into contact with two rare men—men who have had much to do in shaping the policy for the education of the Negro. I refer to the Hon. J.L.M. Curry, of Washington, who is the general agent for these two funds, and Mr. Morris K. Jessup, of New York. Dr. Curry is a native of the South, an ex-Confederate soldier, yet I do not believe there is any man in the country who is more deeply interested in the highest welfare of the Negro than Dr. Curry, or one who is more free from race prejudice. He enjoys the unique distinction of possessing to an equal degree the confidence of the black man and the Southern white man. I shall never forget the first time I met him. It was in Richmond, Va., where he was then living. I had heard much about him. When I first went into his presence, trembling because of my youth and inexperience, he took me by the hand so cordially, and spoke such encouraging words, and gave me such helpful advice regarding the proper course to pursue, that I came to know him then, as I have known him ever since, as a high example of one who is constantly and unselfishly at work for the betterment of humanity.

My effort to secure help from the Slater and Peabody Funds brought me into contact with two remarkable men. Both played a major role in shaping policy for the education of Black people. They were the Hon. J.L.M. Curry of Washington, the general agent for both funds, and Mr. Morris K. Jessup of New York. Dr. Curry was born in the South and had been a Confederate soldier. Yet I do not believe anyone in the country cares more deeply about the highest welfare of Black people. Nor do I believe anyone is freer from racial prejudice. He has the rare distinction of enjoying the confidence of Black people and Southern white people equally. I will never forget the first time I met him. It was in Richmond, Va., where he was living at the time. I had heard much about him. When I first met him, I was trembling because of my youth and inexperience. He shook my hand warmly, spoke encouraging words, and gave me helpful advice about the right course to follow. From that moment, I came to know him as a fine example of someone who works constantly and unselfishly to improve humanity. I have known him that way ever since.

Mr. Morris K. Jessup, the treasurer of the Slater Fund, I refer to because I know of no man of wealth and large and complicated business responsibilities who gives not only money but his time and thought to the subject of the proper method of elevating the Negro to the extent that is true of Mr. Jessup. It is very largely through this effort and influence that during the last few years the subject of industrial education has assumed the importance that it has, and been placed on its present footing.

I mention Mr. Morris K. Jessup, the treasurer of the Slater Fund, for this reason. I know of no other man of wealth and great business responsibilities who gives as much money, time, and thought to finding the proper way to uplift the Negro. Mr. Jessup’s efforts and influence are largely responsible for the importance industrial education has gained in recent years and for its present standing.