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$Title{Up From Slavery An Autobiography
Chapter II. Boyhood Days}
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$Author{Washington, Booker T.}
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$Subject{time
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$Date{1902}
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Title:       Up From Slavery An Autobiography
Author:      Washington, Booker T.
Date:        1902

Chapter II. Boyhood Days

     After the coming of freedom there were two points upon which practically
all the people on our place were agreed, and I find 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.

     In some way a feeling got among the coloured 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 slaves, a coloured person was 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." 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 coloured man proudly called his "entitles."

     As I have stated, most of the coloured 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 on to see how it felt.  After they had remained away for a
time, many of the older slaves, especially, returned to their old homes and
made some kind of contract with their former owners by which they remained on
the estate.

     My mother's husband, who was the stepfather of my brother John and
myself, did not belong to the same owners as did 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.  As soon as freedom was declared, he sent
for my mother to come 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.

     I do not think any of us ever had been very far from the plantation, and
the taking of a long journey into another state was quite an event.  The
parting from our former owners and the members of our own race on the
plantation was a serious occasion.  From the time of our parting till their
death we kept up a correspondence with the older members of the family, and in
later years we have kept in touch with those who were the younger members.  We
were several weeks making the trip, and most of the time we slept in the open
air and did our cooking over a log fire out-of-doors.  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.

     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.  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 was in
the midst of a cluster of cabins crowded closely together, and as there were
no sanitary regulations, the filth about the cabins was often intolerable.
Some of our neighbours were coloured 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.
All who lived in the little town were in one way or another connected with the
salt business.  Though I was a mere child, my stepfather put me and my brother
at work in one of the furnaces.  Often I began work as early as four o'clock
in the morning.

     The first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge was while
working in this salt-furnace.  Each salt-packer had his barrels marked with a
certain number.  The number allotted to my stepfather 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.

     From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about anything, I
recall that 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 got settled in some manner in our new cabin in West
Virginia, I induced my mother to get hold of a book for me.  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." 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.  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 shared fully my ambition, and sympathized with me and
aided me in every way that she could.  Though she was totally ignorant, so far
as mere book knowledge was concerned, 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.

     In the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a young
coloured boy who had learned to read in the state of Ohio came to Malden.  As
soon as the coloured 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.

     About this time the question of having some kind of a school opened for
the coloured children in the village began to be discussed by members of the
race.  As it would be the first school for Negro 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 widest 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.  In the midst of the
discussion about a teacher, another young coloured man from Ohio, who had been
a soldier, in some way found his way into town.  It was soon learned that he
possessed considerable education, and he was engaged by the coloured people to
teach their first school.  As yet no free schools had been started for
coloured 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.  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.

     This experience of a whole race beginning to go to school for the first
time, presents one of the most interesting studies that has ever occurred in
connection with the development of any race.  Few people who were not right in
the midst of the scenes can form any exact idea of the intense desire which
the people of my race showed for an education.  As I have stated, it was a
whole race trying to go to school.  Few were too young, and none too old, to
make the attempt to learn.  As fast as any kind of teachers could be secured,
not only were day-schools filled, but night-schools as well.  The great
ambition of the older people was to try 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.  Sunday-schools were
formed soon after freedom, but the principal book studied in the Sunday-school
was the spelling-book.  Day-school, night-school, Sunday-school, were always
crowded, and often many had to be turned away for want of room.

     The opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley, however, brought to me
one of the keenest disappointments that I ever experienced.  I had been
working in a salt-furnace for several months, and my stepfather had discovered
that I had a financial value, and so, when the school opened, he decided that
he could not spare me from my work.  This decision seemed to cloud my every
ambition.  The disappointment was made all the more severe by reason of the
fact that my place of work was where I could see the happy children passing to
and from school, 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.

     My mother sympathized with me in my disappointment, and sought to comfort
me in all the ways she could, and to help 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, with which, in after years, I had to do both at Hampton and
Tuskegee.  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.

     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.  There was a large clock in a little 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 the way for
me to reach school on time was to move the clock hands from half-past eight up
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.

     When, however, I found myself at the school for the first time, I also
found myself confronted with two other difficulties.  In the first place, I
found that all of the other children wore hats or caps on their heads, and I
had neither hat nor cap.  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
of covering for my head.  But, of course, when I saw how all the other boys
were dressed, I began to feel quite uncomfortable.  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.

     The lesson that my mother taught me in this has always remained with me,
and I have tried as best I could to teach it to others.  I have always felt
proud, whenever I think of the incident, that my mother had strength of
character enough 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 that which she did not have
the money to pay for.  Since that time I have owned many kinds of caps and
hats, but never one of which I have felt so proud as of the cap made of the
two pieces of cloth sewed together by my mother.  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.

     My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or rather a name.  From
the time when I could remember anything, 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 of the children had at least two names, and some of them
indulged in what seemed to me the extravagance of having three.  I was in deep
perplexity, because I knew that the teacher would demand of me at least two
names, and I had only one.  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.

     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 of which my children would be proud, and which might encourage them to
still higher effort.

     The world should not pass judgment upon the Negro, and especially the
Negro youth, too quickly or too harshly.  The Negro 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 Negro boy does not fail.  In a word, the Negro youth starts out with
the presumption against him.

     The influence of ancestry, however, is important in helping forward any
individual or race, if too much reliance is not placed upon it.  Those who
constantly direct attention to the Negro 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.  I have no idea, as
I have stated elsewhere, who my grandmother was.  I have, or have had, uncles
aunts and cousins, but I have no knowledge as to where most of them are.  My
case will illustrate that of hundreds of thousands of black people in every
part of our country.  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 the individual has behind and surrounding him
proud family history and connection serves as a stimulus to help him to
overcome obstacles when striving for success.

     The time that I was permitted to attend school during the day was short,
and my attendance was irregular.  It was not long before I had to stop
attending day-school altogether, and devote all of my time again to work.  I
resorted to the night-school again.  In fact, the greater part of the
education I secured in my boyhood was gathered through the night-school after
my day's work was done.  I had difficulty often in securing a satisfactory
teacher.  Sometimes, after I had secured some one to teach me at night, I
would find, much to my disappointment, that the teacher knew but little more
than I did.  Often I would have to walk several miles at night in order 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.

     Soon after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted into our family,
notwithstanding our poverty, an orphan boy, to whom afterward we gave the name
of James B. Washington.  He has ever since remained a member of the family.

     After I had worked in the salt-furnace for some time, work was secured
for me in a coal-mine which was operated mainly for the purpose of securing
fuel for the salt-furnace.  Work in the coal-mine I always dreaded.  One
reason for this was that any one who worked in a coal-mine was always unclean,
at least while at work, and it was a very hard job to get one's skin clean
after the day's work was over.  Then it was fully 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.  The mine was divided into a large number
of different "rooms" or departments, and, as I never was 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 some one to give me a light.  The work was not only hard,
but it was dangerous.  There was always the danger of being blown to pieces by
a premature explosion of powder, or of being crushed by falling slate.
Accidents from one or the other of these causes were frequently occurring, and
this kept 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 ambition to do anything else than to continue as a
coal-miner.

     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 by reason of the accident of his birth or race.  I used
to picture the way that I would act under such circumstances; how I would
begin at the bottom and keep rising until I reached the highest round of
success.

     In later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy as I once did.
I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that
one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying
to succeed.  Looked at from this standpoint, I almost reach the conclusion
that often the Negro boy's birth and connection with an unpopular race is an
advantage, so far as real life is concerned.  With few exceptions, the Negro
youth must work harder and must perform his tasks even better than a white
youth in order to secure recognition.  But out of the hard and unusual
struggle through which he is compelled to pass, he gets a strength, a
confidence, that one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth by reason of
birth and race.

     From any point of view, I had rather be what I am, a member of the Negro
race, than be able to claim membership with the most favoured of any other
race.  I have always been made sad when I have heard members of any race
claiming rights and privileges, or certain badges of distinction, on the
ground simply that they were members of this or that race, regardless of their
own individual 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.  Every persecuted individual and race should get
much consolation out of the great human law, which is universal and eternal,
that merit, no matter under what skin found, is, in the long run, recognized
and rewarded.  This I have said here, not to call attention to myself as an
individual, but to the race to which I am proud to belong.