Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

Pratt done left ole Greenbow foh ter jine de Army sence you'se been gone?"

"So much de better," replied Rufus. "So much de better."

A ray of hope danced over this black man's face, and now in place of his usually oppressed look came a smile that was peculiarly bright. He was delighted to know that Judge Pratt, his former employer, had seen service in France.

The evening shadows advanced, but Rufus refused to divulge his secret, so finally, one by one, Aunt Miranda's friends got up, wished the young man good luck, and reluctantly left the little cabin, wondering all the while what Rufus was going to do to help them.

"Dat boy," mumbled one old woman as she quit the little cabin, "done come back yere wid he head full uv cu'rus notions, an' I doan know wedder I'se gwine trus' him or not-I'se gwine wait an' see.'

But Deacon Johnson was more optimistic and less curious. "Rufus," he said as he extended his hand for the goodnight shake, "may de Lord bless you, son! You'se done well, an' I sho' is glad I'se been yere foh ter hyeah you tell 'bout France. You must come ter my chu'ch sometime, hyeah, son. I want you to tell my congregation jes' whut you done tol' us yere ter-day."

"All right, suh," replied Rufus, smilingly; "fus' chance I gits I'se comin' foh ter tell yo' chu'ch 'bout my 'sperunce in France.

"T'ank you, son, t'ank you," returned the deacon. "Dat's de way I laks ter hyeah you talk. An' God's gwine bless you," he mumbled to himself. "God "God gwine bless you jes' sho's you bo'n. Goodnight, Sis' Miranda," he continued, as he bowed gracefully and backed out of the little cabin door. "Tek care uv yo'se'fyou an' all de l'il' ones."

Once more the house was quiet. The last visitor was gone, and now only the immediate family remained. And so Aunt Miranda and all the little ones gathered around the big open fireplace and eagerly followed Rufus's thrilling tales until the night was well spent.

Early the next morning the young Negro went to the home of Judge Pratt in quest of his old job. Mrs. Pratt received him kindly and assured him that she would be glad to have his services again. Captain Pratt, she said, had been in France for six months, and was still there in command of a company in a Negro regiment.

[ocr errors]

"We expect the Captain home some time in June," said Mrs. Pratt, "and I wish that you would come to work as soon as you've rested, so that we may have the place in order when he arrives. You see,' she continued, "we haven't had any help since you left, and the place has almost gone to pieces. The fence is down; the lawns need mowing; and there isn't a thing planted in our garden yet.' "All right, ma'am," answered Rufus. "I be yere next week sure.'

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

The next week came. Rufus reported to Mrs. Pratt on time, and immediately began to get the large estate ready for

the home-coming of Captain Pratt. April was almost gone, so there was just a little more than a month to put the place in shape by June. However, by the latter part of May Rufus had mowed the lawns, made a good garden, repaired the fence, and was ready for the Captain.

At last the great day came. Captain Pratt arrived. What a crowd had assembled at the station to greet him! The Mayor, the sheriff, the justice of the peace, prominent citizens-in short, the whole of Greenbow turned out to meet him. He was the first and only commissioned officer to arrive in this village, and the little town tried to overstep itself in doing him honor. Everywhere there were evidences of welcome. "Old Glory was flung to the breeze on public buildings and private residences, the village church bells rang, discordant whistles shrieked out on the cotton factories, automobiles "tooted" their horns, while the little brass band literally swelled the air with its biggest and best tune-" Dixie."

[ocr errors]

From the station the procession marched directly to the Greenbow court-house. Here, on the porch of the building, the former Judge received an ovation, and from the same idolizing crowd that had just acclaimed him at the train. "Speech! Speech! Speech!" they cried. The Captain responded with a graceful bow. Again the crowd yelled in a variety of tones, "Speech! Speech! Speech!" No answer; another graceful bow. But bows would not suffice. So for the third and last time they repeated in a wild chorus: "Speech! Speech! Speech! We want a speech!" The pressure was too great for the Captain now, so he yielded to their demands by giving a short address in which he outlined America's part in the great war. This action seemed to please his listeners, so Captain and Mrs. Pratt excused themselves from this part of the crowd and went into the court-house, where they received the plaudits of the dignitaries. After this reception was over the distinguished guests made their way

home.

How much it pleased Captain Pratt to find his estate in such fine order! One glance over its smooth green lawn convinced him that Rufus was a changed

man.

"Well, Rufus, how're you?" asked Captain Pratt as he stepped from the automobile and handed the young Negro his hand-bag.

"Jes' middlin'," returned Rufus as he took up the bag and started toward the house.

66

Why, wifey, what's the matter with Rufus? He didn't seem a bit glad to see me."

"I don't know," answered Mrs. Pratt. "He's been that way ever since he returned from France. Does his work much better than he used to, but never says a word, and never seems the least bit happy. And, you know," continued Mrs. Pratt, "it's not like Rufus to be sad. Before he went to the Army he was as happy as a lark. I just can't understand him now."

[blocks in formation]

Oh, yes, there is. My wife's just told me that you've carried a long face ever since you returned from France. Come, wake up," continued Captain Pratt ; " tell me what's the matter with you. Maybe I can help you."

66

Maybe I can help you." At the sound of these words the young Negro's face showed a keen sense of satisfaction, and it wasn't long before Captain Pratt had the whole story of his extreme sadness. Briefly, it was this: Rufus was sent to France with a regiment of Negroes who were either born or reared in the North. These men had had every opportunity to get an education, and were therefore intellectually superior to Rufus. Unfortunately, this illiterate Negro was sent to the regiment just as it was about to embark for overseas, and it was not discovered that Rufus was an unlettered man until the organization had reached Europe. Here he was, thousands of miles from home, and in an organization which offered very little to an illiterate man. Now came his first revelation of the value of an education.

""Tween de boys in my comp'ny and de Y. M. C. A. I l'arn' how ter read an' write. An' I tell you whut, Cap'n Pratt, I'se mos' nigh worry myse'f ter death 'bout all dese yere black folks in Greenbow whut ain' know how ter write dere name-s'pose we'd hab 'nuther war? I'se done make up my min' foh ter he'p all my people how ter write. Dis Army's done l'arn' me sumpum, an' I jes' ain' comin' back yere an' be de same ole Rufus."

For a while Captain Pratt stood almost mystified, for he himself had led a company of Negroes, and in almost every case the illiterates in his organization were from the South. He knew Rufus was telling the truth, and deep down in his heart the Captain made his first resolution to help the Negroes of Greenbow make a fight on illiteracy. But to draw the young Negro out he asked, casually: "Well, what're you going to do about it, Rufus?"

66

Well, suh, I'se gwine do jes' lak Unker Sam done wid dem whut couldn' write in de Army. I'se gwine hab a Unlettered Day foh all."

"What do you mean by an Unlettered Day?" asked the Captain.

"Oh, doan you know whut de Unlet tered Day is, Cap'n Pratt?"

"No, I do not. What is it?"

"Wy, dat's de day w'en evahbody s'pose ter know how ter write dere name, an' I wants ter hab one right yere in Greenbow. Is you gwine he'p me, Cap'n Pratt?"

"Yes, Rufus, I'll help you with the

Unlettered Day. But I can't do it this week. You see, I've just got home, and I must have some rest; besides, I'm to speak next week at the Masonic Hall, and it will take me some time to get out what I want to say."

"You'se gwine speak at de Masonic Ilall next week?" asked Rufus, in astonishment.

66

[ocr errors]

Yes," replied the Captain.

Please, suh, Cap'n Pratt, er-erer-please, suh, won't yer drop in two th'ee words foh us cullud people yere in Greenbow?"

"Yes, I will, Rufus. What shall I say?"

"Tell dem 'bout de Unlettered Day dat we wants to have."

"Well," said Captain Pratt, "you'll have to tell me what to say; and if it's good stuff I'll say it. Come on, let's hear what you want me to tell our white folks."

"Is you gwine tell dem whut I tells you, suh?" inquired Rufus.

"Well-well-well, yes," returned the Captain, sharply. "Go on, let's hear what you've got to say.'

[ocr errors]

"Dis," began Rufus, slowly, "is whut I wants you ter tell de w'ite folks uv Greenbow. Tell dem dat we cullud folks yere in Greenbow is gwine hab a Unlettered Day, an' we wants de w'ite folks ter he'p us wid it."

How're the white people going to help your people with an Unlettered Day? What do you mean, Rufus ?" demanded Captain Pratt.

"Er-er-er, wait a minute, Cap'n," pleaded Rufus. "Wait a minute. I'se Wait a minute. I'se gwine 'splain it all right now. You see," continued the Negro, "de Unlettered Day jes' mean dat evahbody's gwine know how ter write dat day. An' yere's how it kin be done. We's gwine ax all de w'ite folk whut got cooks, fiel' han's, driver, an' sich-we's gwine ax you foh ter l'arn us how ter write us name. An' I betcha, fo' you know it, the whole uv Greenbow will be writin', cuz de Army, it l'arn me how ter write my name in two weeks, an' I know you w'ite folk yere in Greenbow kin do de same thing ef you'll jes' try.

"We'll try it, and we'll do it," promised Captain Pratt. "That's a good scheme, and if we can get the white people to approve it I see a new day in education for you people." And with this promise Captain Pratt left Rufus and went into the house, where he told Mrs. Pratt of the unusual conversation which he had just had with the young Negro. "He's got a mighty good scheme in his head," said the Captain," and I'm going to help him push it through."

The resolution was made to help Rufus, and no more was said about the Unlettered Day until Captain Pratt was ready to make his speech at the Masonic Hall. Rufus drove the Pratts over to the hall, but, instead of letting him go back home and return for them later, as was the custom, Captain Pratt asked, him to come inside and wait until the meeting was over. Rufus was overjoyed with the invitation to stay, for he wanted to hear what the Cap

tain was going to say about the Unlettered Day. The hall was full, but Rufus pushed inside and found enough standing room in the rear to accommodate him. Of course no objection was raised to his presence. He was the speaker's handy-man, and known all around Greenbow as a "good nigger."

Finally the time came for Captain Pratt to begin his address. Instantly the house became noiseless, and for one hour the speaker charmed his audience with thrilling tales of battle. Gradually he prepared his listeners for the Unlettered Day scheme by telling them of the heroic deeds performed by the Negroes. His most gripping tale was the story of how he led his black boys over the top, and how on two occasions their daring deeds had saved him from instant death.

At this point the Captain said: "My friends, all over Europe black men were fighting unselfishly for you and me. And I believe," he continued, "the time has come when we must reward them for their service. Our black brothers must have a chance. They have proved true on every occasion, and we can no longer deny those privileges which they so justly deserve. Here in Greenbow we have for Negroes just a one-room school, which is open only three months during the year. Recent experience with Negro troops has convinced me that the South is doing itself a cruel injustice by educating one part of its population and leaving the other part in ignorance. We must," shouted the speaker, emphatically, "educate the Negro if we would make him a better citizen. Illiteracy must go, and we are going to strike our first blow right here in Greenbow. Rufus, come to the front. Here, good friends," said the Captain, "is a man that Greenbow letthat I let-grow up ignorant, and we sent him off to France not knowing how to write his own name. Yet on the battlefield he faced volley after volley of shot and shell, and never was he heard to utter a complaint. He has given the best that was in him to keep Öld Glory from trailing the dust.'

[ocr errors]

"Open up your shirt, Rufus," demanded the Captain. The Negro obeyed, and horrified the audience by showing them a scar which ran the whole width of his chest. It was an everlasting mark of the Boche. "This man," continued Captain Pratt, "received the ugly wound which you now see while fighting for you and me. For his bravery he was awarded the Croix de Guerre-an honor of which I almost envy him. But surely no one in the audience will envy this black son of freedom because he is given an opportunity to make himself a better citizen."

Captain Pratt concluded this dramatic part of his plea by asking those in the audience who were opposed to giving the Negro a fair chance to make it known by standing. Not one person stood. Having received no opposition to his proposal, the Captain now concluded his address by outlining the plan of the Unlettered Day. Briefly, it was this. Every white person who employed Negroes in any capacity

was asked to make a special effort to see that such Negroes were taught how to read and write their own names. This plan was not only readily accepted, but the justice of the peace, who had not heretofore been friendly toward the Negroes of Greenbow, rose and said: "Let's make this thing interesting. I'll give the person two shoats who can teach his nigger how to write the best hand.'"

"No," interrupted the sheriff, "I'll tell yer a still bettah scheme. S'pose yer give yo' shoats ter the nigger whut kin learn ter write the best 'hand.'"

"Good scheme," said the Captain. That ought to make your contest a pretty lively affair."

The sheriff's plan for holding the contest was accepted, and the meeting closed with the agreement that July 4 be set aside as the Unlettered Day. At this time it was planned to have all the illiterate Negroes in Greenbow meet at an appointed place and demonstrate their ability to write their own names.

When Captain Pratt came out of the hall, he found Rufus in an ecstasy of delight. "Well, suh, Cap'n," he said as he started up the automobile, "you'se sho' done tol' dem w'ite folks 'bout de Unlettered Day. Whut you say soun' jes' lak good testimony f'om a preacher."

66

Yes, I've done my part, Rufus; now what are you going to do?"

"Who? Me-whut I'se gwine do? Gwine right straight ter Deacon Johnson chu'ch Sunday foh ter tell my people ter git ready foh de Unlettered Day."

Now was an opportune time for Rufus to give Deacon Johnson's church that long-promised talk on France; and in the meantime he could work in the plan of the Unlettered Day. Arrangements were made with the deacon, who in turn made arrangements with his pastor for Rufus's appearance. The minister was glad to have him come, so Sunday found the young Negro facing the largest crowd that had ever gathered in the Greenbow Baptist Church. Rufus followed the plan of Captain Pratt's talk-first, straight war experiences, and then the plan of the Unlettered Day. The climax of his speech was reached when he told how, in spite of his earnest efforts, he had been pushed back because he could neither read nor write his own name. "But, thang God," he shouted, joyfully, "dat Y. M. C. Á. done l'arn me how ter write my name, an' dey's tol' me how ter he'p de people right yere in Greenbow, an' I'se come back home foh ter do it. How many wants ter l'arn how ter write deir names?" Four-fifths of the hands went up. Then he told them of the big meeting held at the Masonic Hall; how Captain Pratt had put the Unlettered Day proposition before the white people of Greenbow; how they had enthusiastically received it and promised to give their support; and, finally, how the Negroes should take advantage of the opportu nity. These were the main points brought out in the last part of Rufus's talk to his people. The audience was much impressed by this vision of the brighter day. The pastor, himself a man just above the

water-line of illiteracy, took up the matter

at once.

"I doan know much," he said, "but whut little I'se got I'se willin' ter he'p some otah pusson up wid it. An' so fuh ez I'se concern', I'se head over heel in dis Unlettered Day plan."

Conceived by an oversea hero, approved by the white citizens of Greenbow as well as the entire congregation of the Baptist church, the Unlettered Day was now an assured success. The contest was launched, and from the beginning interest was at fever heat. Every illiterate Negro in Greenbow started out with two very definite objects in view-to learn how to write and to win the two shoats. Even Aunt Miranda got into the contest. She was sixty-five years old, but believed her chance for learning and winning was as good as that of the youngest person in the contest.

"Co'se I kin l'arn how ter write," she said, 66 an' I stan' jes' much show ter git dem shoats ez de younges' pusson in Greenbow. My boy Rufus ain' gwine try foh de shoats, 'ca'se he done l'arn how ter write in de Army. But I'se gwine ax him foh to knock my rough p'ints off, an' den I'se gwine ter Mrs. Pratt foh ter finish up in writin'."

Rufus taught his mother the elements of writing, and then she went to Mrs. Pratt to complete her course. Meanwhile the congregation of the Baptist church, landowners, housewives-all were working at top speed to have some particular Negro among their group write the best "hand," and thereby win the two shoats.

At last July 4-the final day of the contest came, and for the first time in the history of the little town the colored and white people had met together on a common ground for a common good. A

large oak grove which was used as a picnic ground for the white people of Greenbow was the delightful spot chosen for the occasion. A large score-board used during baseball games furnished all the blackboard that was necessary. Interested friends who had taught the illiterates how to write their names made up the audience, while Captain Pratt, the sheriff, and the justice of the peace formed a unique examining board. Everywhere there were evidences of the Unlettered Day. At one end of the blackboard, on a raised platform, stood the two shoats. They were finely decorated with blue ribbons and followed the contest with an almost human intelligence. But most impressive of all was that silent line of Negroes who stood patiently waiting in the hot July sun-waiting for the time when they should pass before the large blackboard and for the first time in public scribble their own names. Captain Pratt gave the signal, and the line began to move. One by one they passed before the huge blackboard, each stopping just long enough to scribble his or her name. Fi nally the board was full, but there was still a long line anxiously awaiting their turn. The judges, therefore, took note of the best "hands," gave Rufus the signal to erase the board, and soon another part of the line were writing their names. This method was continued until the last section was ready to pass in review. And the old adage, "The last shall be first," seemed to hold true in this contest, for in almost every case the last writers were the best writers. Now interest was running high, and every Negro in this last group who wrote his name received an almost deafening applause. But the real climax of the Unlettered Day was not

reached until one old gray-haired woman -the last person in the final sectionwalked up to the board and wrote in a clear, bold hand: "Miranda Jones, Greenbow." It was Rufus's mother, and she, like her son, had suddenly become a celebrity. The wild cheering of the crowd left no question in the judges' minds as to who had won the shoats, and so without further hesitation Captain Pratt announced that Aunt Miranda was the best writer in Greenbow, and was therefore entitled to the pigs.

The contest over, the pastor of the Greenbow Baptist Church offered a prayer of thanksgiving, after which the Negroes made the hills ring with "We Are Climbing Jacob's Ladder." And thus ended the Unlettered Day. But there was a lasting impression made on the people of Greenbow by this contest. The white people realized as never before that the Negroes really wanted to learn, while the Negroes themselves were brought face to face with the first liberal opportunity that the little town had ever offered. And incidentally, though not in the original plan, the Unlettered Day meeting brought the white people of this village face to face with the fact that there were also many illiterates right among their own number. Thus they discovered that in helping the Negroes up they were also helping themselves.

Now in Greenbow there is a new era of progress. Racial good will is growing; everybody has learned how to read and write; the Negroes have a larger school and a longer term, their children are en: couraged to study; crops are planted and harvested more promptly, and the little Southern town has gone on record as favoring a new dawn of freedom for all.

III-THE WAR AND RACE FEELING

HE recent race riots in Washington and Chicago show that white men and black men have not yet learned how to live peaceably together in the United States. They must learn if chaos is not

to come.

The Negroes.responded to the country's war call with splendid willingness and whole-heartedness. They made good as soldiers. As soldiers, too, they were praised and honored, and showered with attentions, some of which must have been startlingly new to many of them.

It would not be at all strange if all the praise and favor they received, all the new consciousness of their own importance, should "go to the head" of many Negro soldiers. In some cases it did.

One night in a street car in this city a young Negro in uniform walked forward in the car and took a seat among the white people. The conductor went to him and told him to sit in one of the seats reserved for his race. He refused, saying that a man who had to go to France and fight for the country ought to have a right to sit where he pleased.

BY E. E. MILLER

A policeman was called and the soldier arrested.

Such incidents have not been as numerous as many feared, but they have been sufficiently numerous to make it clear that many Negro soldiers have resentment in their hearts over being denied certain privileges that white men possess. They feel-perhaps inevitably feel-that if they were equally called on to fight when the country was in danger they should be equally privileged when the country is safe. Right now race feeling in the South is more bitter than for years.

There are deeper and more serious reasons for this feeling, of course, than any new idea of their own importance which the young Negroes may have acquired while in the Army. For one thing, few white people, I am convinced, realize the intensity with which the average Negro resents the frequent lynchings of Negroes in the South.

Something over a year ago a Negro in this State shot two white men. He was chased two or three days by a mob, caught, taken to the scene of his crime,

tortured, and burned. During all this time neither the county nor the State officials made any effort either to take or to protect him. I was on the train on which he was carried by the mob to the place of execution. He had been shot and was unable to sit up, but wherever the train stopped a crowd came to look at him. At the station where the longest stop was made a number of Negroes in the gatherering stood in little groups by themselves, silent or sullenly muttering, the strained faces of too many of them telling plainly the feelings they dared not put into words. I shall not soon forget the face of one woman one of the race's stronger, more intelligent faces. It told of suffering, of anger, and of a hopelessness more bitter than either. It was at once tragic and ominous.

A little while ago there was a lynching in another State after another protracted chase by an infuriated mob. The Governor of that State, too, sat inert while the man hunt was carried on half-way across the State, saying that the inevitable must happen. I wrote a little editorial, saying

[merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

VENICE ITSELF AGAIN-THE FAMOUS SQUARE OF ST. MARK'S RESUMING ITS NORMAL APPEARANCE This famous square, in front of St. Mark's Cathedral, was barricaded and the surrounding buildings protected by sand-bags during the war, when the city was in constant danger of destruction by air raids. It now again wears its familiar aspect

[graphic][merged small][merged small]
[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed]
« ForrigeFortsæt »