Write a Review
|
Up from Slavery
[2] Boyhood Days
Booker Taliaferro Washington |
 |
1177 reads • May 2025 • 4201 words • 47 rows
| | Note: Our pure intention in uploading race-related materials here on this website is to educate young readers on historical events. Therefore, many dehumanizing words are replaced, and some negative sentences relating to any race are either removed or rewritten to an acceptable standard without loosing the writer’s own content. | After the coming of freedom, there were two points upon which practically all the people in 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. 1/47 | In some way, a feeling grew among the mixed-race 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 enslaved, people of mixed race were 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.’ 2/47 | 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 mixed-race man proudly called his ‘entitles.’ 3/47 | As I have stated, most of the mixed-race 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 to see how it felt. After they had been away for a while, many of the older enslaved people, especially, returned to their old homes and made some kind of contract with their former owners to remain on the estate. 4/47 | My mother’s husband, who was the stepfather of my brother John and me, did not belong to the same owners as my mother. In fact, he seldom came to our plantation. I remember seeing him 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. 5/47 | As soon as freedom was declared, he sent my mother 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. 6/47 | I do not think any of us had ever been very far from the plantation, and the taking of a long journey into another state was quite an event. Leaving our former owners and the members of our own race on the plantation was a serious occasion. From the time of our parting until their death, we kept up correspondence with the older members of the family, and in later years, we kept in touch with the younger members. We spent several weeks making the trip, and most of the time we slept out in the open air and cooked over a log fire. 7/47 | 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. 8/47 | 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. 9/47 | 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 sat in the middle of a cluster of cabins, and because there were no sanitary regulations, the filth around them was often intolerable. 10/47 | Some of our neighbors were mixed-race 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. Everyone who lived in the little town was, in one way or another, connected with the salt business. Though I was a mere child, my stepfather put my brother and me to work in one of the salt furnaces. Often I began work as early as four o’clock in the morning. 11/47 | The first thing I ever learned about books was while working in this salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his barrels marked with a certain number. My stepfather's number 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. 12/47 | As far back as I can remember, 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 settled into our new cabin in West Virginia, I induced my mother to get me a book. 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.’ 13/47 | 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. 14/47 | 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 fully shared my ambition, sympathized with me, and helped me in every way 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. 15/47 | In the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a young mixed-race boy who had learned to read in the state of Ohio came to Malden. As soon as the mixed-race 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. 16/47 | Around this time, members of the race began discussing the idea of opening a school for mixed-race children in the village. As it would be the first school for black 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. Amid the discussion about a teacher, another young mixed-race man from Ohio, a former soldier, somehow found his way into town. 17/47 | It soon became clear that he was well educated, and the mixed-race people hired him to teach their first school. As yet no free schools had been started for mix-race 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. 18/47 | 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. 19/47 | This experience of an entire race beginning to go to school for the first time is one of the most interesting studies ever conducted on the development of any race. Few people who were not right in the midst of the scenes can form an exact idea of the intense desire my people had for an education. As I have stated, the whole race was trying to go to school. Few were too young, and none too old, to make the attempt to learn. 20/47 | As quickly as teachers could be secured, day-schools were filled, and night-schools as well. The older people's great ambition was 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, and Sunday-school were always crowded, and many often had to be turned away for lack of room. 21/47 | However, the opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley brought me one of the keenest disappointments I ever experienced. I had worked in a salt furnace for several months, and my stepfather discovered I had financial value, so when the school opened, he decided he could not spare me from my work. 22/47 | This decision seemed to cloud my every ambition. The disappointment was all the more severe because my workplace let me see the happy children passing to and from school in the 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. 23/47 | My mother sympathized with my disappointment, sought to comfort me in every way she could, and helped 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, and later, I had to do both at Hampton and Tuskegee. 24/47 | 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. 25/47 | 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. 26/47 | A large clock stood in a small 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 to reach school on time, I should move the clock hands from half-past eight 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. 27/47 | However, when I first arrived at the school, I also faced two other difficulties. First, I noticed that all the other children wore hats or caps, and I had neither. 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 for covering for my head. But, of course, when I saw how all the other boys were dressed, I began to feel quite uncomfortable. 28/47 | 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. 29/47 | The lesson my mother taught me has stayed with me, and I have tried my best to teach it to others. I have always felt proud whenever I think of the incident in which my mother had enough strength of character 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 something she couldn't afford. 30/47 | Since then, I have owned many kinds of caps and hats, but never one that made me feel as proud as the cap my mother sewed from two pieces of cloth. 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. 31/47 | My second difficulty concerned my name, or rather, a name. For as long as I could remember, 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 school-roll called, I noticed that all the children had at least two names, and some indulged in what seemed to me the extravagance of having three. I was deeply perplexed because I knew the teacher would demand at least two names from me, and I had only one. 32/47 | 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. 33/47 | 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 my children would be proud of, and that might encourage them to still higher effort. 34/47 | The world should not pass judgment upon the black, and especially the black youth, too quickly or too harshly. The black boy has obstacles, discouragements, and temptations to battle with that are little known 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 black boy succeeds. In short, the black youth starts out with the presumption that he will fail. 35/47 | Ancestry, however, can help move any individual or race forward if too much reliance is not placed on it. Those who constantly direct attention to the black 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. As I have stated elsewhere, I have no idea who my grandmother was. I have, or have had, uncles, aunts, and cousins, but I have no idea where most of them are. My case will illustrate that of hundreds of thousands of black people in every part of our country. 36/47 | 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 he has a proud family history and connection behind and around him serves as a stimulus to help him overcome obstacles as he strives for success. 37/47 | I was only allowed to attend school during the day for a short time, and I attended irregularly. It was not long before I had to stop attending day school altogether and devote all my time to work again. I returned to night school. In fact, I got most of my education in my boyhood through the night school after my day’s work was done. I often had difficulty securing a satisfactory teacher. 38/47 | Sometimes, after I had secured someone to teach me at night, I would find, much to my disappointment, that the teacher knew but little more than I did. Often I had to walk several miles at night 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. 39/47 | Soon after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted an orphan boy into our family, despite our poverty, whom we later named James B. Washington. He has remained a member of the family ever since. 40/47 | After I had worked in the salt furnace for some time, work was secured for me in a coal mine, which was operated mainly to secure fuel for the salt furnace. I always dreaded working in the coal mine. One reason was that anyone working in a coal mine was always unclean, at least while at work, and cleaning one’s skin after the day’s work was challenging. Then, it was entirely 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. 41/47 | The mine was divided into a large number of different ‘rooms’ or departments, and I was never 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 someone to give me a light. The work was not only hard but also dangerous. There was always the danger of being blown to pieces by a premature explosion of powder or of being crushed by falling slate. 42/47 | Accidents from either of these causes frequently occurred, keeping 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 the ambition to do anything other than continue as coal miners. 43/47 | 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 because of the accident of his birth or race. I used to picture how I would act under such circumstances: begin at the bottom and keep rising until I reached the highest round of success. 44/47 | In later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy as I once did. I have learned that success is measured less by the position one has reached in life than by the obstacles one has overcome in trying to succeed. Looking at it from this standpoint, I almost concluded that often, the black boy’s birth and connection with an unpopular race is an advantage, so far as real life is concerned. With few exceptions, the black youth must work harder and perform better than white youth to earn recognition. But out of the complex and unusual struggle through which he is compelled to pass, he gets a strength, a confidence, that one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth because of birth and race. 45/47 | From any point of view, I would rather be what I am, a member of the black race, than be able to claim membership with the most favored of any other race. I have always been made sad when I have heard members of any race claiming rights or privileges or specific badges of distinction on the grounds simply that they were members of this or that race, regardless of their 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. 46/47 | Every persecuted individual and race should get much consolation out of the great human law, which is universal and eternal, that merit, no matter what skin it is found on, is recognized and rewarded in the long run. I have said here not to call attention to myself as an individual but to the race to which I am proud to belong. 47/47 ★ |  | |
|
