Phoenix tribune. [volume], December 05, 1925, Arizona American, Page Page Twenty, Image 20

About Phoenix tribune. [volume] (Phoenix, Ariz.) 1918-193?

Image provided by: Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records; Phoenix, AZ

                
Page Twenty
m
j Bill’s Epistle to the Caucasians
By T. D. SCOTT, Jr.
I was sitting at my desk the other
morning along about nine o’clock. I
was not paying any attention at all to
the sounds about the place. And, be
sides that it was warm and I had the
door open. That’s how it happened. I
first noticed two soft steps, then the
sliding of a chair —and there sat Bill.
Well, he crossed his legs with a
world of consideration for the crease
in his trousers, hunched himself down
in his chair, and condescended to fav
or me with his choice grin. I simply
pushed the cigarette and matches over
to where he could reach them and
hoped for the best. That is, I hoped
that his visit would be short on this
morning, of all mornings.
“What you saying, Mr. Scott.” That
from Bill.
“Oh, pretty fair. How about your
self?”
“I can’t say it.”
A slight—much too slight—pause
followed.
“What you writing, Mister Scott?”
Again from Bill. I thought I might
as well tell him.
“Well, you see, it’s this way, Bill.
There is a certain army officer that
has lately cast a very serious suspi
cion against the colored troops under
his command during the war. His re
marks created quite a sensation. And
now that the excitement has died
down and the smoke cleared away,
so to speak, I have thought to prepare
a resume of the Negro soldier’s
achievements, and s-o prove the Gen
eral’s accusations to be unjust.”
Bill seemed to turn this over in his
mind.
“I get you,” finally.
I attended to my work for a while.
“You know, Mister Scott, I read
about that guy. What’s his name?
Bull—Bull— ?
“Bullard,” I replied.
‘‘Yes, that’s it. He’s got a good
name, —Bull-ard.”
More quiet, and so, more work done.
“So you’re going to write about
what we fellows did over there, umh.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m doing.”
“Humh. That’s not doodley-doo.”
“Well,” I replied with some heat.
‘‘lt’s not required that you think it is
‘doodley-doo!’ ”
Bill has away of making himself
most irritating at times.
“Tell you what, Mister Scott, I’ve
got an idea about that. I can show
ARIZONA AMERICAN—Tribune Supplement
you how that bird's clear off his
onion.”
Bill carefully adjusted his tie, lean
ed forward, placed his elbows on the
arms of his chair, hunched up his
shoulders, and began counting off the
fingers of his left hand with the fore
fingers of his right. Well, when I
saw all these signs of a long drawn
out argument, I pushed back my type
writer, took a fresh light, and began
to wonder if I could sleep with my
eyes open.
“Here’s the idea, Mister Scott. Sup
pose you did write a whole bunch of
stuff about what we boys did in
France. That wouldn’t prove any
thing. You wouldn’t convince any
body that wasn’t over there. And we
fellows that were over there don’t
need to be convinced. But if I took
something that everybody knows
something about, see. Why, then, I
could prove something. Umh? I could
prove something, then, umh?”
“Why, yes, you could,” I
his repeated “umh.”
“Now just suppose you were one of
these Caucasians, which, of course I
know- you’re not. But just suppose
you were. And you should walk up to
me and say, ‘Bill, you colored boys
make a hot bunch of soldiers—in a
pig’s eye’. I’d come back at you like
this.”
Now Bill arose and struck what
was nothing if not a dramatic atti
tude and delivered himself of the
following epistle:
1. Dear Caucasians:
2. It’s just as much of a pain to
me as it is to you for me to have to
get you put like this, but
3. YOU’VE DONE ME WRONG.
4. A pair of days or so ago I was
reading in a magazine some cracks a
woman writer was making about a
university in the west. There had been
a vote taken among the co-eds to find
out what qualities they most admired
in men. And these are the qualities
that won out:
5. Moderately good-looking, ath
letically inclined, morally clean, re
spectful toward religion, healthy, ap
preciative of the good and beautiful,
well-trained socially, chivalrous, op
timistic, good-natured.
6. There they are. If you didn’t
get the drift, that’s your bad luck.
I’m not coming again.
7. Now I thought that was about
all a man ought to be; but the writer
thought otherwise. She contended that
those qualities would make a good
companion; but that a REAL man
must have:
8. Patience, courage, industry,
sound judgment, love of children, ca
pacity for self-sacrifice.
9. Then she went on to say what
she thought of women that would
choose the first list and neglect the
second.
10. What I mean she put their
BATH WATER ON, STEAMING
HOT.
11. And I guess she’s right at that.
I’m not willing to own up to the lack
of a single quality in her list. While
as to the other list; well
12. I’ve never overheard anyone
calling me even MODERATELY
good-looking. I’m NOT athletically in
clined. My social training’s not 40.
And that’s THAT.
13. If we should taken ony two
men, or races of men, and measure
them both according to this second
list, why, we ought to find out how
they compare as men. Oughtn’t we?
14. Now don’t be a sap. Os course,
we ought.
15. Suppose, now, that we take all
the progress that the white and col
ored races have made in this coun
try in the three hundred years be
tween 1620 and 1920, and suppose we
compress it all into a single lifetime.
We’re assuming that a single genera
tion of men have in fifty years made
the advance that has occurred from
about the time the first Negroes arriv
ed in America until just the other day.
Then each year in the life of our gen
eration would correspond to six years
in the life of the two races here.
16. Get the idea? No? Well, we’ll
go over it again, then * * * * There
now. Do you know what it’s all about?
Oh, that’s all right. I’m dumb like
that myself sometimes.
17. Now I’ll say this sort of cas
ual-like. With but fifty years to live,
the colored part of our generation
SPENDS THE FIRST FORTY
YEARS IN SLAVERY. In other
words, they have just TEN years to
cover the ground that their white
brothers cover in FIFTY.
18. How do you like that for a
handicap? Don’t you LOVE it.
19. Oh, I forgot. Eleven per cent
of them gain their freedom during
this time. Eleven per cent have a
chance to learn something, to accumu
late property. All of eleven per cent
have a chance to try being men. Elev
en per cent isn’t much.
20. But it beats a blank.
21. In the next five years the col
ored folks reduce their illiteracy to
57.1 per cent. In the whole forty
years that have now passed the white