|
Kenneth M. Young,
an African-American from South Carolina, describes a trip he
took to the West in 1891. |
On June 5, 91, I boarded the 5:30 a.m., train for Atlanta.
There I arrived on time, and after spending a few hours in the
hauhts of my school days I took the E.T.V. G. road for Chattanooga.
I was inclined to stop over one day to meet a former schoolmate
and recall associations of the past, but being angered at the
espionage under which I moved (which I afterwards learned was
characteristic of the "good darkie" of that place)
I hastily procured my supper and a ticket and caught the 8 o'clock
train for Cincinnati, where I breakfasted the next morning. There
I spent several hours in search for a friend whom I failed to
find and being anxious for new scenes I left on the Cincinnati,
Hamilton and Dayton road for Indianapolis I like that greatest
inland railroad centre and there spent two days, two hours of
which time I used at the Freeman office endeavoring to photograph
the impressions of the editor and the manager of that great,
Negro journal. They are non-similarities, contra-exponents in
business affairs and social intercourse. The one is of a nervous
temperament, small, shrewd, piercing, deep-set eyes, features
that would be round were they not hewn down with the edge of
sarcasm and the research of a student. Small of statue and lithe
of limb, his editorials are the epigrammatic embodiment of ideas
born of a bigger brain and supported by a more corpulent body.
The other is of a lymphatic temperament, large, inviting eyes,
quiet manners, guarded in language broad minded and candid in
opinion. Leaving Indianapolis by the Vandalia about 12m. I, on
the same evening, arrived at St. Louis. Aside from the great
attraction offered by the most splendid car-shed I had before
or since seen; the impressions gathered at the great negro journal
office; the wonderment of the blind negro caricaturist of Indianapolis;
St.Louis is the starting point where the emotions of my soul
are aroused, the living fire of my spirit begins to kindle and
double assurance swells the breast "a man's a man for a'
that." The first acquaintance I had formed after leaving
home, the scraping up of which is not accredited to me, was that
of a white gentleman. Well, of course I did not first approach
him and introduce myself, for that is audacious presumption on
the part of a negro, but here while waiting for the train for
Denver to be made up, a gentleman of Kansas City noticed my solitary
surroundings came up and entertained me. After talking for some
considerable time he presented his card and I made myself better
known. For the first time since I have had knowledge of the outside
world, for the first time since I have been old enough to know
that the color of skin alters one's surroundings, circumser bes
locomotion and abbreviates privileges, I felt like a man neither
ashamed nor afraid to speak. To his surprise, I told him the
negro of the South was progressing financially and intellectually,
and that, I also thought, with less obstruction and fewer enticements
held out to the hand of poverty, would progress morally; and
that the blacks and whites were on amicable terms; and, aside
from politics, no friction existed. I opened the bright side
of the picture to his view and reserved all that was dark, dismal,
dreary. When his train pulled out, which was one hour before
mine, he grasped me by the hand with a warm pulsation of friendly
feeling and asked me to call on him should I make a stop in his
city. On inquiry I learned that he was a leading physician, well
supplied with this world's goods, with an humble claim on the
next, living in palatial style, who prescribes to the poor gratis
and with whom consultation is sought in other cities.
Full
text (Library of Congress/African-American Perspectives: Pamphlets
from the Daniel A.P.Murray Collection, 1818-1907)
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