What a doleful howl he sets up when he is asked to ride in a separate car; and when he is told that separate churches, separate schools, separate hotels, and separate social life is best for both races. How he raves and froths at the mouth when we tell him that for his own sake, as well as ours, we who have, with desperate difficulty and hardship and sacrifice, built up our civilization, cannot afford to allow it to fall into the power of the inferior race. We have seen what they did with this same Civilization in San Domingo when the French Revolution, most unwisely, entrusted it to the blacks.
Reconstruction days taught us that the San Domingan experience would be repeated here, if the negro rule continued. To save ourselves from such a calamity, and to save the negro from himself, we put back into the hands of the whites that civilization which had been the outcome of centuries of effort on the part of the whites.
And when the Negro Convention of today has not met to howl but to brag, what a beautiful, brilliant picture their orators can paint, as they proclaim the progress and prosperity of the negro. What wonderful statistics they use to prove that the negro has advanced in knowledge more rapidly than the whites of Russia, of Hungary, of Italy and of Spain! What a glittering array of accumulated millions do they claim, in lands, chattels and hereditaments! With what vociferous gusto do they “point with pride” to their farms, their stores, their banks, their newspapers, their magazines! To listen to them when they have assembled to jubilate instead of to howl, you would suppose that, so far as the negro was concerned, the horn of plenty was full, the land flowing with milk and honey. Even Bishop Turner, with an amazingly unconscious inconsistency, fills his letter of so-called denial with boastings of the handsome homes in which the negroes live, the furniture which the white man just ought to go and see, the “library” which would delight the scholar, the piano music and the organ melodies which, in negro homes, soothe the ear and charm the sense.
Let us admit that every bit of this bragging and boasting is founded upon solid fact. Then, in the name of common sense, let me inquire: “Where, oh, where, is the negro race doing all these marvelous things?”
In what country, under what flag, is he piling up these millions of money? Under what government is he outstripping the Russian, the Spaniard, the Austrian? Where is it that he has bought so many farms, established so many banks, built such fine houses, secured such attractive furniture, and gotten an organ for ’Liza Jane and a piano for Susan Ann?
Is it in Africa? No. In Liberia? No. In San Domingo? No.
The negro is doing the splendid things to which he “points with pride” in that country whose flag is a dirty rag, in that land which is worse than hell!
Poor, down-trodden negro!
He makes an idle wager in Baltimore that he will kiss a white girl, in a white hotel; and he walks up to her in the public dining room, puts his hands upon her and kisses her!
In Chicago, he sits down in a white restaurant, and beckons a white woman waitress to come and wait upon him; and when she refuses, he goes straight to a magistrate, swears out a warrant, has the girl arrested, and sends her to prison!