Those familiar with the works of Mr. Stanton, Mr. Harris, and James Whitcomb Riley, Indiana's great poet, will perceive that certain similar tastes and feelings inform their writings, and will not be surprised to learn, if not already aware of it, that the three were friends. Mr.

Stanton's only absence from Atlanta since he joined the "Const.i.tution,"

was on the occasion of a visit he paid Mr. Riley at the latter's home in Indianapolis. The best of Stanton's work must have appealed to Riley, for it contains not a little of the kindly, homely, humorous truthfulness, and warmth of sentiment, of which Riley was himself such a master. Among the most widely familiar verses of the Georgia poet are those of his "Mighty Like a Rose," set to music by Ethelbert Nevin, and "Just a-Wearying for You," with music by Carrie Jacobs Bond. "Money" is a verse in hilarious key, which many will remember for the comical vigor of the last three lines in its first stanza:

When a fellow has spent His last red cent The world looks blue, you bet!

But give him a dollar And you'll hear him holler: "There's life in the old land yet!"

Richly humorous though Stanton is, he can also reach the heart. The former Governor of a Western State picked up Stanton's book, "Songs of the Soil," and after reading "Hanging Bill Jones," and "A Tragedy,"

therein, commuted the sentence of a man who was to have been executed next day. One hopes the man deserved to escape. In another case an individual who was about to commit suicide chanced to see in an old newspaper Stanton's encouraging verses called "Keep a-Goin'," and was stimulated by them to have a fresh try at life on earth instead of elsewhere.

Joel Chandler Harris wrote the introduction to "Songs of the Soil."

Other collections of Stanton's works are "Songs of Dixie Land," and "Comes One With a Song." The danger in starting to quote from these books--which, by the way, are chiefly made up of measures that appeared originally in the "Const.i.tution"--is that one does not like to stop. I have, however, limited myself to but one more theft, and instead of making my own choice, have left the selection to a friend of Mr.

Stanton's, who has suggested the lines ent.i.tled "A Poor Unfortunate":

His hoss went dead, an' his mule went lame, He lost six cows in a poker game; A harricane come on a summer's day An' carried the house whar he lived away, Then a earthquake come when _that_ wuz gone An' swallered the land that the house stood on!

An' the tax collector, he come roun'

An' charged him up fer the hole in the groun'!

An' the city marshal he come in view An' said he wanted his street tax, too!

Did he moan an' sigh? Did he set an' cry An' cuss the harricane sweepin' by?

Did he grieve that his old friends failed to call When the earthquake come and swallered all?

Never a word o' blame he said, With all them troubles on top his head!

Not him! He climbed on top o' the hill Whar stan'in' room wuz left him still, An', barrin' his head, here's what he said: "I reckon it's time to git up an' git, But, Lord, I hain't had the measles yit!"

Among those who have been on the staff of the "Const.i.tution" and have become widely known, may be mentioned the gifted Corra Harris, many of whose stories have Georgia backgrounds, and who still keeps as a country home in the State where she was born, a log cabin, known as "In the Valley," at Pine Log, Georgia; also the perhaps equally (though differently) talented Robert Adamson, whose administration as fire commissioner of the City of New York was so able as to result in a reduction of insurance rates.

Atlanta reporters, it would seem, run to the New York Fire Department, for Joseph Johnson, who preceded Mr. Adamson as commissioner, was once a reporter on the Atlanta "Journal." The latter paper used to belong to Hoke Smith. It was at one time edited by John Temple Graves, who later edited the Atlanta "Georgian," and is now a member of the forces of William Randolph Hearst, in New York. The late Jacques Futrelle, the author, who went down with the _t.i.tanic_, was a Georgian, and worked for years on the "Journal." Don Marquis, one of the most brilliant American newspaper "columnists," now in charge of the department known as "The Sun Dial" on the New York "Evening Sun," was also at one time on the "Journal," as was likewise Grantland Rice, America's most widely read sporting writer. Lollie Belle Wiley, whose poetry has a distinct southern quality, is, I believe, a member of the "Journal's" staff. As the eminent Ty Cobb once wrote a book, it seems fair to mention him also among Georgian authors, though so far as I know he never worked on an Atlanta paper. And if Atlanta's three celebrated golfers have not written for the papers, they have at least supplied the sporting page with much material. Miss Alexa Sterling of Atlanta, a young lady under twenty, is one of the best women golfers in the United States; Perry Adair also figures in national golf, and Robert T. ("Bobby") Jones, Jr., who was southern champion at the age of fourteen, is, perhaps, an unprecedented marvel at the game--so at least my golfing friends inform me.

The continued militancy of the "Const.i.tution," under the editorship of Clark Howell, who sits in his father's old chair, with a bust of Grady at his elbow, is evidenced not only by its frequent editorials against lynching, but by its fearless campaign against another Georgia specialty--the "paper colonel." The ranks of the "paper colonels" in the South are chiefly made up of lawyers who "have been colonelized by custom for no other reason than that they have led their clients to victory in legal battles." Some of the real colonels have been objecting to the paper kind, and the "Const.i.tution" has bravely backed up the objection.

The liveliness of journalism in Georgia does not begin and end in Atlanta. The Savannah "Morning News" has an able editorial page, and there are many others in the State. Some of the small-town papers are, moreover, well worth reading for that kind of breeziness which we usually a.s.sociate with the West rather than the South. Consider, for example, the following, in which the Dahlonega (Georgia) "Nugget,"

published up in the mountains, in the section where gold is mined, discusses the failings of one Billie Adams, the editor's own son-in-law:

On Sat.u.r.day last, Billie Adams and his wife waylaid the public road over on Crown Mountain, where this sorry piece of humanity stood and cursed while his wife knocked down and beat her sister, Emma.

He is a son-in-law of ours, but if the Lord had anything to do with him, He must have made a mistake and thought He was breathing the breath of life into a dog.

He is too lazy to work and lays around and waits for his wife to get what she can procure on credit, until she can get nothing more for him and the children to eat. Recently he claimed to be gone to Tennessee in search of work. Upon hearing that his family had nothing to eat, we had Carl Brooksher send over nearly four dollars' worth of provisions. In he came and sat there and feasted until every bite was gone. But this ends it with us.

There are a lot of people who have sorry kinfolks, but in this instance if there were prizes offered, we would certainly win the first.

Last year, thinking he would scare his mother-in-law and sister-in-law off from where they live, so he could get the place, he shot two holes through their window, turned their mule out of the stable, and tried to run it into the bean patch, besides hanging up a bunch of switches at the drawbars. Then their fence was set afire twice. This is said to be the work of his wife. Then, after carrying home meat, flour, lard, and vegetables to eat for her mother and sister, he whipped the latter because she refused to give him two of the wagon wheels.

The city made a case against both for the whipping, and the wife, although coming to town alone frequently during the day, brought her baby and everything to the council room, plead guilty and was fined one and costs. Billie didn't appear, but if he stays in this country Marshal Wimpy will have him, when all these things will come to light, both in the council chamber and grand jury room.

The scandal of newspaperdom in Georgia is, of course, Tom Watson, who publishes the "Jeffersonian"--a misnamed paper if there ever was one--in the town of Thomson. Many years ago, when Edward P. Thomas, now a.s.sistant to the president of the United States Steel Corporation, was a little boy in Atlanta, complaining about having his ears washed; when Theodore D. Rousseau, secretary to Mayor Mitchel of New York, was having his early education drilled into him at the Ivy Street school; when Ralph Peters, now president of the Long Island Railroad, had left Atlanta and become a division superintendent on the Panhandle Road; when the parents of Ivy Ledbetter Lee were wondering to what college they would send him when he grew to be a big boy; when Robert Adamson was a page in the Georgia Legislature--as long ago as that, Tom Watson was waving his red head and prominent Adam's apple as a member of the State House of Representatives. In the mad and merry days of Bryanism he became a Populist Member of Congress. He was nominated for vice-president, to run on the Populist ticket with Bryan. Later he ran for president on the ticket of some unheard-of party, organized in protest against the "conservatism" of the Populists. Watson's paper reminds one of Brann and his "Iconoclast." Reading it, I have never been able to discover what Watson was _for_. All I could find out was what he was violently against--and that is almost everything. He is the wild a.s.s of Georgia journalism; the thistles of chaos are sweet in him, and order in any department of life is a chestnut burr beneath his tail.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

SOME ATLANTA INSt.i.tUTIONS

There has been great rejoicing in Atlanta over the raising of funds for the establishment there of two new universities, Emory and Oglethorpe.

Emory was founded in 1914, as the result of a feud which developed in Vanderbilt University, located at Nashville, Tennessee, over the question as to whether the inst.i.tution should be controlled by the Board of Bishops of the southern Methodist Episcopal Church, or by the University trustees, who were not so much interested in the development of the sectarian side of the university. The fight was taken to the courts where the trustees won. As a result, Methodist influence and support were withdrawn from Vanderbilt, which thenceforward became a non-sectarian college, and Emory was started--Atlanta having been selected as its home because nearly a million and a half dollars was raised in Atlanta to bring it there.

Oglethorpe is to be a Presbyterian inst.i.tution, and starts off with a million dollars.

This will give Atlanta three rather important colleges, since she already has the technical branch of the University of Georgia, the main establishment of which located at Athens, Georgia, is one of the oldest state universities in the country, having been founded in 1801. (The University of Tennessee is the oldest state university in the South. It was founded in 1794. The University of Pennsylvania, dating from 1740, is the oldest of all state universities. Harvard, founded in 1636, was the first college established in the country; and the only other American colleges which survive from the seventeenth century are William and Mary, at Williamsburg, Virginia, established in 1693, and St. John's College, at Annapolis, dating from 1696.)

There is a tendency in some parts of the South to use the terms "college" and "university" loosely. Some schools for white persons, doing little if anything more than grammar and high-school work, are called "colleges," and negro inst.i.tutions doing similar work are sometimes grandiloquently termed "universities."

Atlanta has thirteen public schools for negroes, but no public high school for them. There are, however, six large private educational inst.i.tutions for negroes in the city, doing high-school, college, or graduate work, making Atlanta a great colored educational center. Of these, Atlanta University, a non-sectarian co-educational college with a white president (Mr. Edward T. Ware, whose father came from New England and founded the inst.i.tution in 1867), is, I believe, the oldest and largest. It is very highly spoken of. Atlanta and Clark Universities are the only two colored colleges in Atlanta listed in the "World Almanac's"

table of American universities and colleges. Clark also has a white man as president.

Spelman Seminary, a Baptist inst.i.tution for colored girls, has a white woman president, and is partially supported by Rockefeller money.

Morehouse College, for boys, has a colored president, an able man, is of similar denomination and is also partially supported by Rockefeller funds. Spelman and Morehouse are run separately, excepting in college work, on which they combine. Both are said to be excellent. Morris Brown University is not a university at all, but does grammar and high-school work. It is officered and supported by colored people, all churches of the African Methodist Episcopal denomination subscribing funds for its maintenance. Gammon Theological Seminary is, I am informed, the one adequately endowed educational establishment for negroes in Atlanta. It would, of course, be a splendid thing if the best of these schools and colleges could be combined.

Citizens of Atlanta do not, generally, take the interest they ought to take in these or other inst.i.tutions for the benefit of negroes. To be sure, most Southerners do not believe in higher education for negroes; but, even allowing for that viewpoint, it is manifestly unfair that white children should have public high schools and that negro children should have none, but should be obliged to pay for their education above the grammar grades. Perhaps there are people in Atlanta who believe that even a high-school education is undesirable for the negro. That, however, seems to me a pretty serious thing for one race to attempt to decide for another--especially when the deciding race is not deeply and sincerely interested in the uplift of the race over which it holds the whip hand. Certainly intelligent people in the South believe in industrial training for the negro, and equally certainly a negro high school could give industrial training.

Negroes are not admitted to Atlanta parks, nor are there any parks exclusively for them. Until recently there was no contagious-disease hospital to which negroes could be taken, and there is not now a reformatory for colored girls in the State of Georgia. Neither is there any provision whatsoever in the State for the care of feeble-minded colored children. And there is one thing even worse to be said. Shameful as are Georgia's frequent lynchings, shameful as is the State's indifference to negro welfare, blacker yet is the law upon her statute books making the "age of consent" _ten years_! Various women's organizations, and individual women, have, for decades, worked to change this law, but without success. The term "southern chivalry" must ring mocking and derisive in the ears of Georgia legislators until this disgrace is wiped out. Standing as it does, it means but one thing: that in order to protect some white males in their depravity, the voters of Georgia are satisfied to leave little girls, ten, eleven, twelve years of age, and upward, white as well as colored, utterly unprotected by the law in this regard.

I have heard more than one woman in Georgia intimate that she would be well pleased with a little less exterior "chivalry" and a little more plain justice. Aside from their efforts to change the "age of consent"

law, leading women in the State have been working for compulsory education, for the opening of the State University to women, for factory inspection and decent child-labor laws. The question of child labor has now been taken in hand by the National Government--as, of course, the "age of consent" should also be--but in other respects but little progress has been made in Georgia.

From such cheerless items I turn gladly to a happier theme.

As I have said elsewhere in this book, many colored people in Atlanta are doing well in various ways. At Atlanta University I saw several students whose fathers and mothers were graduates of the same inst.i.tution. Higher education for the negro has, thus, come into its second generation. More prosperous negroes in Atlanta are doing social settlement work among less fortunate members of their race, and have started a free kindergarten for negro children. Many good people in Atlanta are unaware of these facts, and I believe their judgment on the entire negro question would be modified, at least in certain details, were they merely to inform themselves upon various creditable negro activities in the city. The northern stranger, attempting to ascertain the truth about the negro and the negro problem, has to this extent the advantage of the average Southerner: prejudice and indifference do not prevent his going among the negroes to find out what they are doing for themselves.

At various times in my life chance has thrown me into contact with charities in great variety, and philanthropic work of many kinds. I have seen theoretical charities, sentimental charities, silly charities, pauperizing charities, wild-eyed charities, charities which did good, and others which worked damage in the world; I have seen organized charities splendidly run under difficult circ.u.mstances (as in the Department of Charities under Commissioner Kingsbury, in New York City), and I have seen other organized charities badly run at great expense; I have seen charities conducted with the primary purpose of ministering to the vanity of self-important individuals who like to say: "See all the good that I am doing!" and I have seen other personal charities operated (as in the case of the Rockefeller Foundation) with a perfectly magnificent scope and effectiveness.

Nevertheless, of all the charities I have seen, of all the efforts I have witnessed to improve the condition of humanity, none has taken a firmer hold upon my heart than the Leonard Street Orphans' Home, for negro girls, in Atlanta.

The home is a humble frame building which was used as a barracks by northern troops stationed in Atlanta after the Civil War. In it reside Miss Chadwick, her helpers, and about seventy little negro girls; and it is an interesting fact that several of the helpers are young colored women who, themselves brought up in the home and taught to be self-supporting, have been drawn back to the place by homesickness. Was ever before an orphan homesick for an orphans' home?

Miss Chadwick is an Englishwoman. Coming out to America a good many years ago, she somehow found Atlanta, and in Atlanta somehow found this orphanage, which was then both figuratively and literally dropping to pieces. Some one had to take hold of it, so Miss Chadwick did. How successful she has been it is hard to convey in words. I do not mean that she has succeeded in building up a great flourishing plant with a big endowment and all sorts of improvements. Far from it. The home stands on a tiny lot, the building is ramshackle and not nearly large enough for its purpose, and sometimes it seems doubtful where the money to keep it going will come from. Nevertheless the home is a hundred times more successful than I could have believed a home for orphans, colored or white, could be made, had I not seen it with my own eyes. Its success lies not in material possessions or prosperity, not in the food and shelter it provides to those who so pitifully needed it, but in the fact that it is in the truest and finest sense a _home_, a place endowed with the greatest blessings any home can have: contentment and affection. What Miss Chadwick has provided is, in short, an inst.i.tution with a heart.

How did she do it? That, like the other mystery of how she manages to house those seventy small lively people in that little building, is something which only Heaven and Miss Chadwick understand.

But then, if you have ever visited the home and met Miss Chadwick, and seen her with her children, you know that Heaven and Miss Chadwick understand a lot of things the rest of us don't know about at all!

CHAPTER x.x.xVI