The Journal of Negro History, Volume 7, 1922 - Various 13 стр.

DOCUMENTS

It was on a faraway plantation, where the big bell rang out the call to work, and the overseer shouted at the top of his voice, "All in line." For twenty-seven years I was one among the groups that must hearken to the call of the big bell.

Some years ago the owners of these plantations agreed among themselves to let the colored people have schools, with the understanding that no one should be admitted as a pupil who was old enough to work. So I found myself among those who had to work. I hardly know how the thought came into my mind that I wanted to go to school, for there was no talk of schools around the fireside, but for some cause that I cannot explain I became possessed with the longing for an education. I did not know what for, but, with all my heart, I wanted to go to school.

There were ten of us in our family, including our father. Our mother departed into the beyond when we were very small. Our father was an easy-going man. Any way would do for him. Whatever was was right. Whenever I told him that I wanted to go to school he would answer, "You know what the boss says." But I would reply, "Father, he can't make me stay here." That was to him a piece of foolishness and he would turn away and say nothing more. At last I saw that I must do my own thinking and plan my own way of leaving. For ten years school was my chief thought. Every day I saw myself turning from the old plantation to what was for me the land of freedom and opportunity.

It was years before the opportunity came. One night I said to my father, "I am going to leave on the first day of May if it costs me my life." For the first time he seemed to realize that I was in earnest. Then he said, "If you leave me you will travel in my tears." That was a horrible thought to me so I did not leave then nor until several more years had gone by, ten in all from the time I first began to think about school.

Finally, one night I said to him: "This is the third and last time I shall tell you I want to go to school. You hindered me for years by telling me that I would be travelling in your tears. That will not answer any longer." When he saw that the blaze had never died out he said: "My son, these may be right thoughts that have come to your mind and their power may lead you to a good end, yet they may be the ruin of you. I would rather follow you to your grave than see you captured and brought back to be punished by these hateful laws they have on these plantations. God will change things after a time and then it may be you can go to school in safety." I saw then that my poor father wanted me to go to school but was afraid I would be punished if I did, as he had known others to do. I said I was going to risk it anyway. As the appointed time drew near he was very sorrowful. Never shall I forget the night of parting. After he had pronounced a benedirection upon me he said: "May you ever be happy."

I had really started upon my journey. I had a sack of gingerbread which I did not want to bother with but that my dear sisters persuaded me to carry with me. When daylight appeared I knew it would not be safe to keep the road so I planned out a road of my own. When I came to the spring into which Ponce de Leon had plunged to regain his lost youth I sat down and ate all the bread I could and left the rest. How often afterwards I wished for it!

Not long after I left Ponce de Leon spring I heard the plantation dogs coming after me. "What shall I do now?" was the question. When they had nearly reached me I hid behind a tree and then dashed off as if I saw game ahead. They soon recognized me and became my fast friends.

We slept in the same bed under the same guardian stars. Every night I would thank God for their voiceless sympathy. I shared my meals with them. When I bought crackers I would eat but a few of them and give the rest to my dumb companions. But I saw at last that I must get rid of the poor creatures somehow, although the thought almost broke my heart. When I reached the Mississippi I lashed two logs together and sent my companions out hunting. Then I sailed away on the raft I had made across the Father of Waters. When they returned I looked back and saw them running alongside of the river where they could see me, willing to die with me. I broke down in tears and could not look back any more, because I would have gone back and died with them.

For hundreds of miles I made a path where no human foot had ever trod. I swam rivers and made harbors where no boat had ever landed. At last I reached Texas. For many days I travelled without seeing any house. At night I was afraid of being destroyed by some wild beast, so I would climb a tree and stay awake until morning. But none of these things moved me for I had ten years' study of my journey and whatever it might bring, even death. Coming to a little town I found work with one of my race. I thought all colored people were like those on the plantation so I told my employer everything and from what plantation I came. He said I had taken the right step. Imagine my surprise therefore when I discovered that I was captured! It almost broke my heart. Rather than go back to the old plantation I would suffer death. I pulled away from my captors and ran with all my might. My pretended friend was ahead trying to overtake me but I soon freed myself in a large swamp. This taught me a lesson I did not have to go to school to learn, I found out that some among my own race would put me to death for a dollar and I learned to keep my mouth shut.

When I reached Chattanooga, the nights were so cold I saw I could no longer lie out. For many months I had not slept in a bed, nor eaten a cooked meal. My clothes were those I wore away from home and they were what you can imagine they would be. I did not know how to go about getting a job. Finally I found a good place and before long was earning enough to make me comfortable. But one day when I was out in town I saw a drummer who had sold goods to the store on our plantation, for many years. He recognized me and called out, "The boss is going to break your head, nigger, if he gets you!" This ended my happy home. I had not yet learned to get on a train but with my same dependence I soon ran away to Knoxville. Writing to a certain place from there I learned of my father's death. These were dark days for me. I was strolling about in the cold world without home or friends. I would often ask myself, "What am I living for when there is no heart beating for me?" I began to drift with the current and even thought I would take to drinking. Then the thought came to me that I would be a coward to come so far and then give up. I arose with this thought and determined to act like a man. I entered school in Morristown Tenn., thinking that all my troubles were over. I made low grade with small children. It seemed funny to them to see a man who knew so little. I was there about four months and was beginning to lose my fear when one day I saw the same drummer again. When he caught sight of me he called out, "Hello, nigger, I thought you were in New York!" Never will sinner tremble in the presence of the Almighty as I did in the presence of that drummer. But he seemed only delighted in spending some time talking with me. He said one of my sisters and several other hands from the plantation had run away and the boss thought I was the cause of it all, and, he added, "If that old man gets his hand on you, they'll take you some night and skin you alive. I told him I saw you in Chattanooga and he said he would make me a present of $200 if I would let him know where you were if I should see you again. But I would not do you that way for anything. I'll tell you what I will do for you, however. I'll get you a good job up North where you can go to school. I would not stop here." I replied "All RIGHT!" As he was going away he threw me a quarter saying, "Get you a drink, old boy!" I lifted my hat and scraped back my foot as I thanked him for the money. But I was not so easily fooled at that time. I knew just what such sweet talk meant. I saw that it was my move. I had learned then to get on the train. I left Morristown that night and next morning was in Lexington. Being afraid to stay I went to Wilberforce, Ohio, then to Frankfort but finally came back to Lexington again. By that time I had found out that my boss could not carry me back to the plantation, as its laws were not so large in the world as I had thought. I found out that if I violated the laws of the State I could not be carried back without the consent of the Governor of Kentucky. I entered Chandler School without money but happy. For the first time I wrote to my old Miss telling her I was in Lexington in Chandler School. She answered with sweet words about my going to school, and said the boss had spoken kind things about me before he passed away.

The kind teachers of Chandler did their best to unfold those twenty-seven years of ignorance. I had almost to bite the dust to stay in school but I stayed there. I have studied many days hungrywalking the streets afternoons trying to find work for a little to eat.

Since I have been in Lexington I have often been asked, "What do you want with so much education?" Out of those same lips I have heard other students praised for going to school. I did not let this discourage me. Dr. J. E. Hunter, Rev. E. A. Clarke, and Kelly Robinson will ever have my heart-felt gratitude for the kind words of encouragement they gave me. We little realize what a word of encouragement means to one who has lived the life I have.

COMMUNICATIONS

This letter contains at least one important fact showing the development of racial relations in the United States since the establishment of the independence of this country.

Mr. C. G. Woodson,

Editor, the Quarterly Journal of Negro

Life and History,

2223 12th St., NW.,

Washington, D. C.

Sir:

Referring to your letter of the 4th instant, in which you express a desire to be furnished with information showing the number of negro soldiers who served in the Revolutionary War, their names, if possible, and some information concerning the regiments in which they served, and in which letter you also make inquiry as to whether such records are accessible to some member of your staff for making the necessary research, I am directed by the Secretary of War to inform you as follows:

A cursory examination of the Revolutionary War records on file in this Department has resulted in the discovery of information here and there concerning the services of colored men in that war, but there is no index indicating where records of such services may be found and in order to ascertain data showing the names, organizations and numbers of such colored men it would be necessary to make an extended search of the entire collection of Revolutionary War records in the custody of this Department. Even after making such an extended search the results would be doubtful because the War Department records afford but little information showing whether Revolutionary War soldiers were white or colored.

No attempt has ever been made by the War Department to compile information regarding the numbers or names of colored men in the Revolutionary War or the designations of the organizations to which they belonged, and owing to the limited clerical force allowed by law, the Department cannot undertake any compilation, which, as already explained, would in any event necessarily be incomplete and unsatisfactory.

Historical investigators of recognized standing are permitted to have access to the War Department records under certain conditions, but the Revolutionary War records have become so worn and dilapidated by reason of lapse of time and long use thereof that access thereto is permitted only under exceptional circumstances. Inasmuch as those records are very incomplete and afford scarcely any information bearing upon the subject in question it is not seen that any useful purpose can be served by granting permission to search those records for the data desired.

Many of the States that had troops in the Revolutionary War have published rosters of such troops. These rosters can probably be readily consulted in the Congressional Library, and it is believed that they afford the most promising source for obtaining the information sought

The following sent out some time ago under the frank of Congressman Goldfogle may have some historic value:

When the Jamestown Exposition Bill was under consideration by the Committee on Industrial Arts and Expositions of the House of Representatives, at Washington, Congressman Henry M. Goldfogle, of New York, a member of the committee, took a very keen and lively interest in securing an appropriation of a hundred thousand dollars for a Negro exhibit.

On the day the Committee finally revised the bill and voted on it, Congressman Goldfogle was suffering intensely from carbuncles, and was about to undergo a surgical operation. Despite this, he went to the committee meeting, and there moved the insertion of the provision for the appropriation for a Negro exhibit.

Some members of the committee who were not favorable to the project and others who were quite indifferent to it urged the Congressman to allow the matter to remain in abeyance, saying that it might be taken up at some future time. Judge Goldfogle, however, insisted there was no time like the present and that the colored men and women of the country ought to have an opportunity to show through means of the proposed exhibit the remarkable progress that they had made since the days when they emerged from slavery. In the course of his remarks to the Committee, he said that he came of a race that had been oppressed and which centuries ago had been in slavery, and that had he lived forty years after the children of Israel had passed out of the house of bondage, he would have been thankful and grateful had anyone given his people an opportunity to show the progress they had made as free men.

Congressman Goldfogle called attention to the testimony that had been given during the hearings before the Committee of the great advancement made by the colored people in every avenue of life from the time of their emancipation, and the credit that was due to many of the men and women of the Negro race who had shown themselves worthy of the freedom that happily this country accorded them.

After quite a spirited debate, in which Judge Goldfogle warmly espoused the cause of the colored man, the Committee, by a majority of one vote, inserted the appropriation provision; and thus, mainly through the efforts of this New York Congressman, who has not a single colored vote in his district, the Negro exhibit was established at the Jamestown Exposition.

BOOK REVIEWS

A Social History of the American Negro. By Benjamin Brawley. Macmillan Company, New York, 1921. Pp. 420.

As Negro history has been so long neglected, it will require some time to develop in this field the necessary standard to secure a distinction between the significant and insignificant and between truth and fiction. On account of the emphasis which has been recently given to this study, many novices lacking especially the historical point of view have entered this field because it is so productive that it is an easy task to write a work therein. Benjamin Brawley whose chief preparation and efforts have been restricted to English is one of these novices. Among his first efforts were A Short History of the American Negro and The Negro in Literature and Art. In neither of these works does he exhibit the knowledge required by the standards of present day historiography. This more recent work although more extensive than the others has no better claim to its being called history.

There can be no question as to many valuable facts contained in this work, but it lacks proportion, style, and accuracy. The book begins with a study of African origins based largely on Wiener's Africa and the Discovery of America and upon Lady Lugard's Tropical Dependency. He next takes up the Negro in the Spanish exploration but has little or nothing to say about the Negroes in connection with other explorers. His treatment of the development of the slave trade and of the introduction of slavery shows a slightly improved conception of his task. In his discussion of the Negroes in the colonies, into which he works servitude and slavery, the Indian, the mulatto, the free Negro, and efforts for social betterment, he presents a veritable hodgepodge. Passing then to the study of the estrangement from Great Britain, the participation of the Negro in the Revolutionary War, and the effect of that movement upon the Negro's social and political situation, he exhibits no scientific grasp of the status of the Negroes during the eighteenth century or of what they were thinking and doing. The treatment of the new West, the South, and the West Indies, which follows this portion of the book is merely certain generalizations which may be obtained from an average knowledge of American history and from such topical discussions of the Negro history as may be found in B.A. Johnson's History of the Negro Race or in John W. Cromwell's The Negro in American History. In his discussion of the Indian and the Negro there is an effort which serves to direct attention to a neglected aspect of our history, that is, to figure out the extent to which the races were associated and the race admixture which resulted from such contact.