Started In With "Enthusiasm"

1900

In an interview, Booker T. Washington tells the story of some of his early experiences at Tuskegee.

"After teaching in the ordinary way awhile, the impression began to grow upon me that I was largely throwing away my time, trying to give these students a book education without getting hold of them in their home life, and without teaching them how to care for their bodies, and inculcating in them habits of neatness, order and industry. Here it was that I conceived the idea of such a work as has followed."

"Had you any capital to start such a school with?"

"I had unbounded enthusiasm. I began looking around to see if I could get hold of some land. I found a farm near Tuskegee, that I thought would answer the purpose, but I couldn't buy real estate with enthusiasm, and I hadn't a cent of money. But my boldness led me to write to Gen. Marshall, the treasurer of Hampton, and ask him to loan me $500 to make a payment on that farm; and to my unbounded surprise he sent me a cheek for what I asked, and I wasn't long in getting the school moved."

"How have you since managed to get all your buildings and the other thousands of acres of land?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you how we got our first building, though. We pitched in and built it ourselves — yes, sir; people scoffed, but we even made our own bricks. The point at which we stuck was the burning of the bricks — none of us knew how to fire a kiln. We had no money to hire labor, but we had to have those bricks, and I owned a gold watch which I took to the pawnshop and got enough money to employ an experienced brick maker to burn the bricks."

"That was a heroic measure, sure. No doubt you cherished that watch as — "

"I have never got that watch out of pawn yet, but we are now manufacturing a million bricks a year. That was a pretty poor sort of building, but we builded self-respect and manhood into it, and when white people saw what we could do, we won their respect. Now we can put up a building that no one need be ashamed of. In our last building the steam heating apparatus and the electric light fixtures were put in by our own steamfitters and electricians. The plans were by an architect from our own school."

—The Ram's Horn, March 17, 1900, p. 14.

Man an Aquatic Animal

1910

Every moderately well-educated person knows that life originated in the water, but not so many are aware that we are still aquatic animals. Every cell except those of the outside skin is dependent upon a surrounding liquid to keep it alive, and if it became dry it would perish. A person who realizes this fact will always take care to drink plenty of water, and will also eat plenty of fruit and vegetables, since these contain large quantities of water, and that in a purer form than is usually available. The pickaninny shows his good sense when he feasts upon the juicy watermelon, and instead of ridiculing him we might better go and do likewise.

Frightened By Santa Claus

Article from 1911

How the Dear Old Saint Carried Consternation Into an African Mission House

An amusing story of how Santa Claus frightened the black children at a mission station when he first appeared to them a few years ago, is told by the wife of a missionary stationed at Bailundu, Africa. They had celebrated Christmas at Bailundu before, but they never had had Santa Claus, so Mr. Stover, the missionary, dressed up as good Saint Nick.

"He had been padded and powdered and packed until his own mother would not have known him," Mrs Stover afterward related. "Presently we gave the signal, the door flew open and in walked Santa Claus. But dear me! "What consternation! He was greeted with shrieks and groans and cries of 'Let me out! It is the evil one. It is the day of judgment!'

"The urchins, catching the infection of terror from the older black people, fled to their bedrooms, fell down upon their faces, crept under chairs and tables — anywhere to hide themselves. Poor old Santa Claus never had such a greeting before. As soon as he realized the panic he had caused, he tore off his tall hat and white cotton beard. Then from the bags on his back he began to throw gifts right and left and to tell who he was.

"Reassured once more, everyone was soon laughing and chatting, munching the great 'red breads' (doughnuts), tasting their fruits or nibbling at the sweets from the familiar little bags.

"It seemed as though everyone tried to talk louder than his neighbor as they examined the costume of Santa Claus, whom they now no longer feared. One man said that he thought it was John the Baptist, another that it was Elijah returned. Yet another thought it was Satan himself, 'and all my sins rose up before me;' while a fourth confessed, 'My only thought was to hide myself'."

Servants in South Africa

1900

Only rich people can afford to keep white servants in South Africa. All ordinary folk, says a contributor to the London Mail, have to be content with the well-meant, if casual, ministrations of the native "house-boy."

The best of all servants is a Zulu, especially if he is raw, that is, fresh from his native kraal and totally unspoiled by the wiles of civilization. Such a boy is honest, sober, quick, clean, and anxious to learn the ways of the "umlungu," or white man.

He soon becomes as deft as an English butler, and as handy as the ideal housemaid. He does everything, from cooking to answering the door, and after a little practice he does it well. His knowledge of English at first is scanty, but he soon picks up a few words and mixes up Kaffir, Dutch and English in a quaint polyglot dialect.

When they are new to their work the boys make funny mistakes. A lady once had a good but raw boy who did not understand the etiquette of visiting-cards. Three visitors called. Two of them gave the boy their cards; the third did not happen to have one with her. The boy ushered the first two into the drawing-room, but kept the third waiting in the hall, saying, "Two misses got ticket. You no got ticket, you wait outside."

The boys have all manner of strange names, usually chosen by themselves from some one or other of the words that they hear often used, such as Sixpence, "Tickey" (three-penny piece), Shilling, Breakfast, Kettle, Silly Fool, Ugly, Pint Pot, Scrubber, Chopper or Whiskey.

Of course they have their own tribal names, but they never use them in white men's houses, and if none of the aforementioned common objects serves to provide an appellation, the boy is usually Jim, Charley or John. — Youth's Companion.

Eccentricities of Maiden Ladies Amused Eastern Town

1896

A Pair of Twins

The curious streak of obstinacy which crops out in many New England families, especially in small places, where the range of ideas and occupations is small, has been brought into prominence through the tales of a gifted group of story writers, notably by Miss Mary E. Wilkins. People living in other parts of the country often think her stories must be exaggerations, but dwellers in New England towns can parallel most of them from their own knowledge.

In one Massachusetts village there dwelt not many years ago two maiden ladies, called, though they were over forty years of age, "the Hatfield girls." Beside this youthful appellation, they retained a youthful taste for gay colors. As they were twins, very tall, very lean, always wearing skirts conspicuously short to avoid dust, and hat brims unusually wide to avoid injuring their eyes, they would have been rather remarkable figures even if they had not chosen to dress, school girl fashion, in clothes exactly alike to the slightest detail.

They were always together, and it was one of the characteristic sights of the village to see the Hatfield girls plodding through the snow to the postoffice in their green-and-red plaid gowns, black-braided coats and big, brown, fuzzy felt hats with great pea-green bows. Their muffs, mittens, tippets, wristers, barege veils, even their rubber boots, were duplicates of each other. In fact the sisters were as absolutely alike as the twin paper dolls which little girls cut from a piece of paper folded double.

In summer it was the same. They floated by to church in duplicate blue muslins, or watered their flower beds in the early morning in indistinguishable hideous purple wrappers.

Suddenly, the village was stirred by an exciting event: the Hatfield girls had quarreled! They quarreled because Mary Abby, who overheard a small boy making jokes at their expense, suggested to Ann Eliza that perhaps it would be as well if henceforth they dressed just a little differently. Ann Eliza received the suggestion as the cruelest of insults; but she said hotly that, after that, she wouldn't for a kingdom wear a dress off the same piece as Mary Abby's.

Sure enough, the sisters ceased to dress alike. Furthermore, they did not dress harmoniously. They were together as much as ever — but if Mary Abby wore pink, Ann Eliza had on scarlet; if she wore green. Ann Eliza wore blue; if it were yellow, she decked herself in magenta; if it were brown or gray, she tried to get a shade of the same color that would make her sister's appear dingy and faded.

It was a war of colors waged furiously for a week, bitterly for a month, spitefully for a year; then perseveringly, resolutely, obstinately, for one — two — three — four — five years; from five to ten; ten to twelve; twelve to thirteen.

Neither sister would give in, for after a brief exhibition of colors Mary Abby had tried to fight her offended twin with her own weapons, and to array herself in hues too violent to be overwhelmed. They were as gay as parakeets, the two poor bitter old twins, and the interested village had quite given up expectation of a change, when at length a change came.

One morning the "Hatfield girls," side by side, and dressed in new and glossy black, entered the postoffice amid a crowd of staring villagers, and called for their mail. They were in mourning evidently — but nobody could think who had died. At length the postmistress ventured, to inquire.

"Yes," said Ann Eliza, soberly, smoothing down her new cape, "we are in mourning. It wa'n't strictly necessary, I presume, but we thought it best. It's Cousin John's wife out in Montana. We've never seen her but we hear she was a very worthy woman, and a credit to the family."

And whether or not the Hatfield girls mourned deeply for the unknown wife of Cousin John, it is certain that for the remaining years of their lives their clothes were black, and were cut alike, and the village guessed that they had found a way to end their warfare, without acknowledging surrender, or proclaiming peace.

Physician Declares Colors Have Influence on Nerves

1920

A New York physician who gives more credit to nature than he takes for himself in the cures he has wrought is a great believer in the effect of colors on the human race. Nature is the best teacher in these things, he says. You will find in your surroundings in the country no black and very little red. Blue and yellow are combined in the restful, reviving green. There is no doubt, the doctor contends, that the wearing of black has an evil effect on both health and spirits. It is the color of Saturn, the planet of gloom, misfortune, fatality and other evil things. If one wishes to be happy and brilliant, blue is the color to wear. The doctor says that the spirit of evil hates blue intensely and flies at the sight of it. Blue also calms the nerves and therefore it is a good color for room decorations.


Great Musicians of India Care Not for Worldly Things

To the Hindu, music, like sculpture and painting, is a sacred art. Music originated from Siva, one of the Hindu Trinity, and Saraswati is the goddess of music and of learning in general. As people look upon music as something sacred, so it has become a highly specialized art. Amateur musicians are not much encouraged. The public seem to say, "Do it well or don't do it at all; don't play false with music; it is too sacred for light treatment." The great musicians of India are generally ascetics. They care not for name, fame, or wealth. They live a life of comparative poverty. The Hindu is of the opinion that a voluptuous or a luxury loving person cannot be a great musician.

The Germ Theory — Daniel Defoe, Journal of the Plague Year

1903

Defoe Gave a Hint of It In the Early Eighteenth Century

Defoe's "Journal of the Plague Year," published in 1722, contains two passages which grope toward bacteriology. Defoe himself pretends to disbelieve the theories. But his way is to seem to doubt what he is really eager to advance.

Having shown that contagion was almost certain in the case of people living in the same house, but often avoidable by segregation and precaution against physical contact, Defoe says:

"This put it out of question to me that the calamity was spread by infection — that is to say, by some certain steams or fumes, which the physicians call effluvia, which effluvia affected the sound who came within certain distances of the sick. Others talk of infection being carried on by the air only by carrying with it vast numbers of insects and invisible creatures, who enter into the body with the breath or even at the pores with the air and there generate or emit most acute poisons or poisonous ova or eggs, which mingle themselves with the blood and so infect the body."

In another place is this passage:

"I have heard it was the opinion of others that it (the disease) might be distinguished by the party's breathing upon a piece of glass, where, the breath condensing, there might living creatures be soon by a microscope of strange, monstrous and frightful shapes, such as dragons, snakes, serpents and devils, horrible to behold. But this I very much question the truth of, and we had no microscopes at the time, as I remember, to make the experiments with."

Highwayman, Dressed as Woman, Aids in Hold-Up

Washington, D.C., 1913

Two highwaymen, one attired as a stylish young woman, held up John McLain of 1108 Florida Northeast, he told the police of the Ninth precinct the other night, and at the point of a revolver demanded his cash and jewelry.

McLain was going to his home, when he was accosted at Montello avenue and Morse street Northeast by two men, one dressed in woman's clothes. Both had their faces smeared with lampblack. The one in man's clothes pointed a revolver at McLain, and demanded his money. He only had 26 cents, so the highwayman took that, and pointing his revolver at McLain told him to "beat it." McLain did.

Hastily turning a corner, he met Policeman Steele about to mount the steps of the Ninth precinct station. "There's a couple of hold-ups down the street," he yelled at Steele. The bluecoat spied the pair about four blocks away and started after them on the double-quick. The two heard his footsteps and vanished around a corner. No more was seen of them.

Before they disappeared, however, Policeman Steele saw the "woman" pick up "her" skirts and do 100 yards in about ten flat. Underneath the skirts "she" had on a serviceable pair of trousers.

McLain expressed doubt as to his ability to identify the pair should they be arrested. He said the lampblack they had on their faces made it difficult to remember their features, in addition, the beskirted member of the team had on a heavy veil.

A blue broadcloth suit, furs and muff, tan shoes, and a big black picture hat comprised the attire of the one who masqueraded as a woman. The police are wondering just what the game was.

—Syndicated feature article


ROBBER WAS IN SKIRTS

With Companion, He Gets Enormous Sum of 25 Cents.

SO MR M'LAIN REPORTS

Two Masquerading Youths Lead Policeman a Merry Chase — Quarry Lost in Alley — "Highwayman" Stumbles Over His Skirts — "Victim" Is Employed in One of the Government Departments.

Held up, the police say, at the point of a revolver by two white youths with blackened faces, one dressed as a woman and wearing a heavy black veil, John McLain, of 1108 Florida avenue northeast, late last night gave up 25 cents under threat of death at Montello avenue and Morse street northeast. McLain had more money in his pocket, but told the alleged robbers that that was all he had.

Passing by the corner a few moments later, Policeman Steele, of the Ninth precinct, was hurriedly told of the robbery by McLain, and gave chase. They were less than a block away. Hearing him coming, he said last night, the one dressed as a woman picked up his dresses and both ran quickly away.

Gathered His Skirts and Ran.

Policeman Steele threatened to shoot, but the two continued running and dodged up one street and down another, After following them for about four blocks, they evaded the policeman in an alley, and he was forced to abandon the chase.

McLain, who is employed in one of the government departments and is 24 years old, told the policeman he was sure both of the young men were white and not more than 21 years old. He plainly saw the blacking on their faces, he declared. The one dressed as a woman stumbled over his dress several times, he said.

McLain was returning to his home shortly after 11 o'clock, he said, when he noticed what appeared to be a negro man and woman approaching him. He paid little attention to them until they got within a few feet of him, and then the one dressed as a man suddenly whipped out a revolver and shoved it in his face. "Give us all the money you have or I will kill you," McLain said the one dressed as a man muttered, as though trying to disguise his voice. The other one, he said, told him to hurry up in a voice distinctly masculine.

Gave "Highwaymen" 25 Cents.

Fearing that the man would enforce his demand, McLain said he took 25 cents out of his pocket and handed it to the one dressed as a woman and told the pair that he had nothing else valuable. The sound of an approaching man frightened the "highwaymen" at this time, and they took the quarter and hurried away, he said.

Policeman Steele had just left his home and was on the way to the Ninth precinct police station to begin his night's work. Seeing the policeman, McLain rushed up to him and told him of the robbery, pointing out the two forms rapidly disappearing into the darkness along Montello avenue.

Followed by McLain, the policeman rushed after the couple. He had gone only a few steps when they began running, evidently having heard his approach. They went a block on Montello avenue, and the policeman was rapidly gaining on them. Then the one masquerading as a woman picked up his skirts about his waist, and both began running faster.

Decided Not to Shoot.

Policeman Steele blew his whistle as he ran, but got no response. He also called to the couple that he would shoot unless they stopped, but they only ran faster. He did not actually fire.

Returning to the Ninth precinct police station, Policeman Steele sent out a general lookout for the two robbers, but up to a late hour last night no further trace of them had been found.

McLain described the two as being both young and smooth-faced. The one dressed as a woman was entirely in black, and had on a black veil, he said. The other was dressed in a dark suit and slouch hat.

—The Washington Post, January 13, 1913, page 3.

Funeral Customs – Old Fashioned Woe Being Replaced

1903

Funeral Reforms Needed

Old Fashioned Parade of Woe Gives Way to Better Customs

It accorded with old beliefs, remarks the Brooklyn Eagle, that a funeral should be a scene and occasion of gloom — absolute, hopeless gloom. The front room, with its dismal ornament, its black hair cloth furniture chairs and "sofy," its framed wedding certificates, its wreaths of flowers preserved from other funerals, was reduced to darkness by the lowering of the shades and closing of the blinds, so that guests fell over one another's legs when they entered and fumbled their way to the chairs. The deceased was dressed in black, nailed into a black coffin that rested on a black bier, and all the company dressed in the blackest things they could dig up from their wardrobes. No light, no air, no color, and from the minister little comfort. His voice creaked for the occasion. Then the company went away in darkened carriages to a bleak burying ground where the last rites were as dismal as might be.

This was the Yankee way. Some other people did differently. The wakes held over the remains were comforting to the survivors and added much to the reputation of the departed for hospitality. And the German fashion of going to a hotel after a burial and ordering unlimited beer proved that there was still a few solaces left on earth. Americans reverence their dead too much to make a funeral a scene of festivity; but they are mitigating the gloom of these occasions to a degree. Flowers and music take the edge from grief, and it is no longer necessary to darken the windows. White is more and more used in place of black for dress and decoration, and in placing the body in the casket — or, better, on a couch — there is avoidance of the stiffness of attitude that suggests a pose before the old fashioned photographer.

Reform in these matters comes, in part, through the holding of funerals in other places than the home. Some undertakers have mortuary chapels as part of their establishments. Cemeteries have buildings for a similar purpose. Mount Auburn, in particular, has a beautiful little chapel, near the gate which replaces the gothic structure in the middle of the grounds, now become a crematory. In this chapel, with its organ, carved oak roof, stained windows and electroliers in the form of funeral torches, the bier is so easily movable that it can be turned by a single hand: hence much of the struggle to place and carry away the casket is foregone.

But what especially marks the difference between the funeral here and the home funeral, between the now fashion and the old, is the lack of mourning emblems and the presence of plants and palms. The chancel is a mass of green — kentias, rubber trees, oleanders, and smaller plants, in rows and groups, so that the casket, with its usual burden of flowers in the center, suggests a great bloom itself in a whorl of leaves than the depository of a dead body. The clergyman delivers his address from a pulpit at one side, and if he is a wise clergyman it is a hopeful and encouraging address; in preference to the old fashioned threnody. When that is over there is music form the organ — a fine instrument — and the company files out into the sunlight. It is far better than the old fashioned funeral — that type of absolute woe.

Black Wedding the Last Word in Ceremonies

1917

Even Blasé New York Sits Up and Takes Notice of Ebony-hued Marriage of Man-Milliner and Model

BY GEORGE MARTIN

NEW YORK, Jan. 22.—A black wedding, one of the most remarkable ceremonies ever performed in this country and one which made even blasé New York sit up and stare, was celebrated at the Church of St. Vincent de Paul, here, Monday.

It was completely black and the first wedding of its kind ever planned made the little fashion model, Eleanor Klinger, the bride of Ora Cne, designer.

From the limousine in which they threaded their way among the skyscrapers to the little church in 23rd street, to the handles on the silver service at their wedding breakfast, everything down to the most minute detail, was coal black.

Even the serving men were black; and everyone with any part in the ceremony wore black, including black gloves.

As the big black car whirled up to the curb at 9 o'clock, the driver who had a black mustache, twisted the black handle on the door and out popped the little bride and groom. They were dressed in black from head to foot. Cne, a handsome, stocky young fellow, a little below medium height, wore a single-breasted black broadcloth, cut business style and fitting close.

His collar was black and his string tie and his black silk shirt blended into his black vest.

The little bride, tripping across the sidewalk with her soon-to-be, wore black silk slippers, a black silk dress sparingly overlaid with black chiffon. Her wedding veil was a broad strip of black silk edged and overlaid with black tulle, ending in large bows.

This wedding veil and train are detachable, so, as the bridegroom explained, "it can be used either for mourning or evening."

The bride's corsage bouquet was of black pansies.

After the ceremony Mr. and Mrs. Cne sped to their black wedding breakfast at the Cne appartment in Forty-third street. There Cne's black valet served black coffee, black bread, black butter (dyed), black bass, black raisins and blackberries.

The breakfast room was in black and white, with ebony furniture and black rugs. The silver service, from coffee set to teaspoons, was fitted with dull finished ebony handles. The porcelain service was black with an edging of white.

Cne — and his bride will begin a tour of the large cities of the country with their visit to Philadelphia Friday where Cne will address the Teachers' Institute of Domestic Science. Later they will go to Fort Wayne, Ind., Cne's home town, and to Omaha, Minneapolis, Nashville, Pittsburgh, Kansas City and later on the west coast.

—The La Crosse Tribune and Leader-Press, La Crosse, Wisconsin, January 22, 1917, page 5.

Note: The sentence "it can be used either for mourning or evening" might have a typo in it, but it makes a great pun, whether Cne meant it that way or not. Probably not.