The Story of My Life and Work

by Booker T. Washington

“S. C. Armstrong.”

On the day before Gen. Armstrong was stricken with the paralysis which finally resulted in his death, I remember that I met him on Beacon Street, in Boston, and told him that some ladies in New York were discussing the matter of giving us a new building, but seemed somewhat undecided as to the wisdom of doing so. I was talking to the General about interceding in order to get these friends to decide to furnish the building. He seemed greatly interested in the matter and promised to either see or communicate with these New York ladies. Before we finished our conversation, however, we were interrupted by some one and we did not finish the talk about the building. The next day Gen. Armstrong was stricken with paralysis, and no one was permitted to see him for several days. After several days had passed by, the doctors seemed to be convinced that he could not live but for a few hours, and I, in company with several other persons, was allowed to see him in his room at the Parker House. To my surprise, the minute I entered the room, he took up the thread of our conversation concerning the building where it was broken off several days previously on Beacon Street, and began at once advising how to secure the building. The General did not recover from this stroke of paralysis, but lived about eight months after it. In January, 1893, that is, about four months before he died, he came to Tuskegee, or rather was brought to Tuskegee, because he was too weak to travel alone, and remained a guest at my home for three weeks. During these weeks he suffered intensely at times, but was always in good spirits and cheerful. His heart was so wrapped up in the elevation of the Negro that it seemed impossible to induce him to take any rest. Most of the time when he was not asleep he was planning or advising concerning the interest of the black man, and spent much time in writing articles for newspapers and to friends in the North. He was present during the session of our Negro Conference in February, 1893, and it was a memorable sight to see him carried by the strong arms of four students up the stairs of the chapel and to the presence of the Conference. The impression that the sight of Gen. Armstrong made upon the members of the Conference is almost indescribable. All felt as though he was their most strong and helpful friend, and they had a confidence in him that they had in no other being on earth. It was at this Conference that Gen. Armstrong made his first attempt to speak in public after he was stricken with paralysis, and his success in being heard and understood was so encouraging that he spoke to audiences on several other occasions.

I must not neglect to mention the manner in which Gen. Armstrong and Mr. Howe, the farm manager at Hampton, were received at the school on the occasion of this visit, for this was the second visit that the General had made to the school. Both students and teachers were most anxious to do him all the honor possible, and for several weeks previous to his coming we were quite busily engaged in devising some plan to receive the General in a proper manner. At last it was decided to ask the authorities of the Tuskegee Railroad to run a special train from Tuskegee to Chehaw to meet the General. This request the railroad authorities very kindly granted. He arrived upon the school grounds at about nine o’clock at night. Each student and teacher had supplied himself with a long piece of light wood, or “litted,” as the colored people are in the habit of calling it. A long line was formed, and when he came upon the school grounds, the General was driven between two rows of students, each one holding one of these lighted torches. The effect was most interesting and gratifying. I think I never saw anything done for the General which seemed to make him so happy and give him such satisfaction as this reception.

The first public address that I delivered in the North was in Chicopee, a town not far from Springfield. I spoke in the Congregational Church in the morning, but was careful to commit my entire address to memory. I was a little embarrassed after the morning meeting was over when several of the members of the congregation, in congratulating me over my success, stated that they had enjoyed my morning address so much that they had planned to go to Chicopee Falls, an adjoining town, to hear me speak in the evening. As I had only the one address to deliver one can easily see that I was in rather an embarrassing position.

While the greater portion of my speaking has been before Northern white audiences, I also improved every opportunity to speak to my own people, both in the North and in the South. In fact, during the earlier years of the institution I carried on a regular campaign of speaking among the colored people in the South, going to their churches, Sunday-schools, associations, institutes, camp-meetings, conferences, etc. They did not, as I have stated, take kindly to the idea of industrial education at first, and it was largely by reason of my efforts in these public meetings that I succeeded in converting them to the idea of favoring industrial education. At one time I hired a team and took one of the older students with me, and we drove for many miles, stopping at the homes of individuals and at churches to explain to them the work of the school.

The first opportunity I had to speak to a Southern white audience was on the occasion of the gathering of the Christian Worker’s Convention, which was held in Atlanta, in 1893. It seems that it was largely because of the impression that I made upon this audience in Atlanta that the authorities of the Atlanta Exposition were led to extend me an invitation to deliver an address at the opening of that exposition. I shall let an account given in the Christian World, published in New Haven, Conn., take the place of my own words in regard to this address before the Christian Worker’s Convention:

Principal Washington. Gov. Johnson. Pres. McKinley.