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The Slave Boy who Became a Great Leader · Stories of Grit

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  Chapter five of Stories of Grit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox
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  recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
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  visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Penny coffein Stories of Grit by Archer Wallace,
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  Chapter five, The Slave Boy who became a Great Leader. Some time
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  about the year eighteen fifty eight or eighteen fifty nine, a Negro child was
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  born in a log cabin in Virginia, U s a. The parents of
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  the child were slaves and utterly without education. When the child grew to be
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  a man, he could never find out the exact date or even the year
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  of his birth. The first things he remembered were the scenes around the squalid,
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  little log cabin where his earliest years were spent. The cabin itself was
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  sixteen feet by fourteen It not only had to serve as the sole home for
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  the family, but was used as the kitchen for the plantation. There were
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  no windows in it, only openings in the side which led in the light.
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  The same openings, of course, let in the chilly air in winter.
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  A broken down door hung on uncertain hinges in one corner of the miserable
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  cabin. There was a cat hole, a hole about seven or eight inches
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  square to enable the family cat to pass in or out. As there were
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  half a dozen other holes in the cabin walls, this contrivance seemed unnecessary.
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  There was no wooden floor to the cabin, the bare earth being considered all
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  that was necessary. In the center of the floor there was a large,
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  deep hole which was used to store sweet potatoes during the winter. There was
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  no stove in the cabin, all the cooking being done over an open fireplace.
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  The little Negro boy, whose name was Booker Talia Faro Washington, never
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  knew what it was to sleep in a bed with his brother John and his
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  sister Amanda. He slept on a bundle of filthy rags on the dirty floor.
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  The poor mother, who acted as cook to the slaves on the plantation,
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  had little or no time to give to the training of her children,
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  so they just grew up and early learned to do hard work. The family
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  never sat down around the table together for a meal, nor was God's blessing
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  ever asked upon the food. Like most other slaves at that time, they
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  hardly ate like civilized beings. The children got their meals very much like dumb
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  animals. It was a piece of bread here, and a scrap of meat
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  there, and perhaps a potato in another place. Sometimes one member of the
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  family would eat out of a pot a skillet, while another would be eating
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  from a tin plate on his knees, often using nothing but the hands to
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  hold the food. One day, when young Booker was over at the slave
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  owner's house, he saw two of the young ladies eating gingerbread. It seemed
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  to him at that time that the most tempting thing in the world was a
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  piece of gingerbread, and he made a solemn vow that if he could ever
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  afford to buy some gingerbread, he would do so. Young Booker had little
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  time for play. In fact, he hardly understood what the word meant.
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  He cleaned the yard, carried water to the slaves in the field, and
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  once a week took corn to the mill. This last job was heart breaking.
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  A heavy bag of corn would be thrown over the back of a horse,
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  but as the horse jogged along the uneven road, often the bag would
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  fall off, and probably Young Booker would fall with it. He was not
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  strong enough to get it back upon the horse, so he would have to
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  wait. Maybe for several hours for a chance passer by to help him.
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  These hours of waiting would often bring bitter tears, for he knew he would
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  be late in reaching home. It was a lonely, dark road, and
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  he was much afraid, and besides, when he did get home, he
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  generally received a severe flogging for being so late. When Booker was about eight
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  years of age, the slaves were liberated and he with his mother and brother
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  and sister set out for West Virginia, where his stepfather worked in the salt
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  mines. The family packed up their few belongings, and with very little money,
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  set out on the long and tedious journey of several hundred miles. The
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  children walked most of the way until their feet were sore and blistered. It
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  took them several weeks to make the journey, and they slept either in the
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  open or in some abandoned cabin by the roadside. Although he was only a
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  child, Booker was put to work in the salt mines as soon as they
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  reached Maiden, where his stepfather lived. There was no play for him,
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  nothing but hard work. Sometimes he had to rise at four o'clock in the
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  morning and work until he was nearly dropping from sheer exhaustion. Once, when
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  he was a little fellow, he had taken some books to the schoolhouse for
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  his young mistress. He looked in and saw several dozen white boys and girls
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  learning to read and write, and it seemed a wonderful thing to him.
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  He thought that getting into school must be like getting into paradise. Once he
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  got settled and maiden, a great desire to learn to read came over him.
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  In some way, a copy of Webster's Spelling Book found its way to
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  their cabin, and he eagerly began to learn the alphabet. At that time,
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  there was no single person of his race whom he knew who could spell,
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  and he was afraid to ask the white people. But in some way
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  he learned what the letters stood for, and soon he began to spell out
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  simple words. His mother was totally ignorant, but she encouraged him all she
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  could. About this time, some kind of a school for colored children was
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  opened in the town, and a young Negro who had learned to read,
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  was put in charge. Booker's stepfather, however, decided that he could not
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  afford to lose the money that he was earning, and that he must continue
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  to work in the salt mines. This was a most crushing blow to the
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  Negro boy, who was so anxious to learn. However, he succeeded in
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  persuading the teacher to give him lessons at night, and he worked hard,
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  although he was often tired in body. After a while, he was allowed
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  to attend day's school on the understanding that he also did his work in the
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  mines. So he worked in the mines from very early in the morning until
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  nine o'clock when school opened, and again he returned when school hours were over.
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  When he did get to school, he found difficulties. All the other
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  boys had store caps, of which they were very proud. Booker had none,
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  nor had his mother any money wherewith to buy one, but she sewed
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  two pieces of cloth together, which answered for a cap. The other boys
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  made great fun of his homemade cap, but he knew it was the best
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  that his mother could do, so he tried to ignore their ridicule. Young
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  Booker had heaps of trouble and difficulties at every turn, but there never was
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  a time in all those hard years when he did not have the determination to
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  secure an education. One day, while he was working in the mine,
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  young booker overheard two men talking about an advanced school for colored boys at some
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  distance away in the darkness. He crept closer, and he heard one of
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  the men say that opportunities for work were provided so that worthy pupils could pay
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  part of their board and at the same time be taught some trade. That
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  was a turning point in his life. He determined there and then to get
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  to that school. Once he had formed that resolution, the idea never left
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  him day or night. By means of very hard work, he managed to
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  save enough money to start him on the road to the school, which was
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  known as Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute. After many hardships and bitter experiences,
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  he arrived there. But when he presented himself before the head teacher, she
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  hesitated about taking him in. He was tired after the long, weary journey,
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  and his clothes were worn threadbare. He looked like a worthless tramp.
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  After some hesitation, the teacher gave him a broom and told him to sweep
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  a room. Did he sweep that room clean? He never tackled anything with
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  so much delight. He swept it, then dusted it four times. He
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  rubbed every piece of furniture in that room until it shone. He felt that
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  his future depended upon the way he cleaned that room. When he had finished,
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  the head teacher came and examined his work. She couldn't find a particle
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  of dust anywhere. I guess you will do to enter this institution, she
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  said. He spent three years at Hampton. They were hard years in many
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  ways, for he had little money, and besides he had to learn everything
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  almost from the beginning. But he was sheer grit, and things which would
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  have discouraged others only made him more determined. He soon gained a grasp of
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  his studies, and by very hard grinding, worked his way to the front
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  of his classes. After his course was completed, he was made a teacher
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  in the institution and put in charge of a group of Indians, with whom
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  he did remarkably well. Then a great opportunity opened up for him. A
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  normal school for colored people was to be opened in Tuskegee, Alabama. A
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  great many schools for colored children had been opened since the abolition of slavery,
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  but most of the teachers themselves were not educated, and this normal school was
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  instituted for their benefit. Booker T. Washington was asked if he would take
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  charge of it, and he gladly did so. He began his work and
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  a disused shanty with about thirty pupils, practically all all of whom had been
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  trying to teach school. Soon the shanty became too small for those who came,
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  and Booker Washington saw a large, old, disused plantation house, which
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  he decided to purchase and use as a school. He succeeded in raising the
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  necessary five hundred dollars, and soon the whole school moved into the larger premises.
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  Under his leadership, the school grew by leaps and bounds. The colored
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  people were so thankful for the institution that they brought live cattle as they could
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  afford it, and these animals were used to maintain the institution and as a
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  means to train the negroes for farming. Very soon the school owned two hundred
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  horses, colts, mules, oxen calves, and over seven hundred pigs,
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  sheep and goats. It became necessary to add to the buildings, and soon
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  the work of Tuskegee Institute became known the whole world over. After a few
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  years, the school, which Booker Washington again in an old shanty, had
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  grown to be an institution with eleven hundred pupils and a staff of eighty six
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  officers and teachers. Booker T. Washington, now known everywhere as Professor Washington,
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  became one of the greatest orators in the United States. Often he made
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  speeches before tremendous audiences, and always succeeded in raising the white man's idea of
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  the colored people. He became a close personal friend of Grover Cleveland, at
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  that time President of the United States, and several times he was invited to
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  the White House to be guests of the President. Later, he visited England
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  and was welcomed by Queen Victoria and many of the most distinguished people of Great
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  Britain. He received the honorary degree of Master of Arts from Harvard University.
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  And it is safe to say that the little Negro boy, who began life
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  under such great handicaps, became one of the most highly respect of the world's
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  citizens. End of Chapter five