I thought we were done with enrollment for the fall session. I was preparing to retire at the end of that year’s commencement. It had been a turbulent time for me during my tenure there. When I started in 1860, there were rumors that the south would secede from the north and the north would fight to preserve the union. I taught some of the brightest students who left to fight and do their American duty. Many did not return. I guess that is why I harbored such hatred of the negro as they sashayed up the walkway of my institution with their new found rights asking to become what so many good white men were denied because of them. I knew what I did was wrong, but it was still South Carolina and no white man from Rock Hill to Savannah was going to stop me.
I had the list of applicants. All five were negro men who thought thirty acres and a mule wasn’t enough. The first one was sent home because he could not pass the entrance exam. The second two, who came, did not have enough money. The fourth one was just Murphy’s law. He had a woman back at home with a baby in her belly. Her father met him at the depot and made sure he got back on the train. The last man was persistent. He paid his first full year in cash, so money was not a problem. He passed the entrance exam with flying colors and he was not attached. This one would be hard because it involved me telling him that we had no more room. I saved slots for Negros like I saved slots for Irishman. My slots were full.
He sat in the foyer of my office with his legs crossed and his feet dangling like time meant nothing. I kept him waiting for two hours hoping he would just go home. When he took out his lunch, I knew he planned to stay. I interrupted him and brought him in the office to tell him that his labor was in vain when something caught my eye. It was his shoes. They weren’t standard work boots shined with brilliantine and lard. These shoes were polished until you could see your reflection. The stitching was excellent and the soles had been replaced. Since I needed to make small talk, I asked him about the shoes. He seemed genuinely delighted that I said something.
I had the list of applicants. All five were negro men who thought thirty acres and a mule wasn’t enough. The first one was sent home because he could not pass the entrance exam. The second two, who came, did not have enough money. The fourth one was just Murphy’s law. He had a woman back at home with a baby in her belly. Her father met him at the depot and made sure he got back on the train. The last man was persistent. He paid his first full year in cash, so money was not a problem. He passed the entrance exam with flying colors and he was not attached. This one would be hard because it involved me telling him that we had no more room. I saved slots for Negros like I saved slots for Irishman. My slots were full.
He sat in the foyer of my office with his legs crossed and his feet dangling like time meant nothing. I kept him waiting for two hours hoping he would just go home. When he took out his lunch, I knew he planned to stay. I interrupted him and brought him in the office to tell him that his labor was in vain when something caught my eye. It was his shoes. They weren’t standard work boots shined with brilliantine and lard. These shoes were polished until you could see your reflection. The stitching was excellent and the soles had been replaced. Since I needed to make small talk, I asked him about the shoes. He seemed genuinely delighted that I said something.
“ I am glad you like my shoes. My high school teacher told me of a man who sent all the way to England for his shoes. The stitch last for a long time and you won’t ever have to replace nothing but the laces and the soles. He was educated here, he said."
This man was slow and methodical. I could tell that he knew more than he let on. His reference to the university 's son made me think that somewhere in the past, I must have known his school master. The young man continued.
“He told me that the Bible says to mark the perfect man. Find someone who is where you are and follow close. Don’t try to do your own thing until you have learned how to do their thing as good as they do”.
Now, I was impressed. I told that saying to many of the students I taught. Someone must have told it to him and he thought enough to put it to memory. My heart leaped with joy. He continued.
“I made sure that I read all my schoolmaster’s textbooks. I studied where he went to school. I saved up money for my rail ticket by picking cotton in the summer and selling lumber for firewood in the winter. I kept my passions under control to ward off wild oats. I took a job here in Rock Hill during my last year of high school so that I could learn this community. I worked as a groundskeeper at the Presbyterian church to get first pickings of the annual rummage sale. I woke up at dark-thirty to tend the shoe table. I ransomed what pride I had left to beg to buy these shoes.”
Upon close inspection, I realized that the shoes he was wearing were once owned by me. This young man counted me as one of the men he would follow in his life. I had mastered the place that he held so dear in his life.
This man was slow and methodical. I could tell that he knew more than he let on. His reference to the university 's son made me think that somewhere in the past, I must have known his school master. The young man continued.
“He told me that the Bible says to mark the perfect man. Find someone who is where you are and follow close. Don’t try to do your own thing until you have learned how to do their thing as good as they do”.
Now, I was impressed. I told that saying to many of the students I taught. Someone must have told it to him and he thought enough to put it to memory. My heart leaped with joy. He continued.
“I made sure that I read all my schoolmaster’s textbooks. I studied where he went to school. I saved up money for my rail ticket by picking cotton in the summer and selling lumber for firewood in the winter. I kept my passions under control to ward off wild oats. I took a job here in Rock Hill during my last year of high school so that I could learn this community. I worked as a groundskeeper at the Presbyterian church to get first pickings of the annual rummage sale. I woke up at dark-thirty to tend the shoe table. I ransomed what pride I had left to beg to buy these shoes.”
Upon close inspection, I realized that the shoes he was wearing were once owned by me. This young man counted me as one of the men he would follow in his life. I had mastered the place that he held so dear in his life.
I signed his admission slip and let him in.
