On Her Own Ground Page 19

  As their business manager and attorney, Ransom was wise to monitor their freewheeling spending habits, but their decision to purchase the 136th Street property in New York—one of the first homes owned by an African American west of Lenox Avenue—was a sound one. With Harlem just on the cusp of becoming the vibrant nexus of black American political, intellectual and cultural activity, the Walker women’s early foothold had poised them to assume an integral role in the development of this stimulating uptown Manhattan district.

  As much as Indianapolis had continued to provide a solid base for the day-to-day functioning of Madam Walker’s business, it was New York’s electrified energy and heart-quickening vitality that she believed would catapult her work to the next level. She was comfortable in the Hoosier capital, but found herself beginning to outgrow it. Having tasted the power of the national recognition her YMCA gift had brought, Madam Walker fully understood how to use the larger platform for other purposes. The more her focus shifted to political causes and interests beyond her company—and the more her money became a means to an end—the more she wished for a presence in a city where she could amplify her voice.

  As much public praise as Madam Walker had received, it rankled her that she still had not penetrated Booker T. Washington’s inner circle. Despite his snubs, she had continued her campaign to enlist his support of her work. With her tenacity as persistent as his resistance, she took it upon herself to invite him to be her houseguest during his visit to Indianapolis for the July 1913 dedication of the new YMCA. When he accepted the offer, she was thrilled.

  Anxious that he be shown “every courtesy,” Madam Walker made her Cole and chauffeur available to the Tuskegee leader from the time of his 1:45 A.M. arrival at Union Station to his departure two days later. By late morning, “an army of newspaper people” from the white dailies and the three black weeklies had knocked on the door at 640 North West Street to call upon Washington. Among the reporters was the Freeman’s William Lewis, who interviewed Washington just before the ceremony “in the best of those splendid rooms of the Madam’s mansion,” a setting he judged unsurpassed for “elegance, comfort, convenience.” As they completed their conversation, Indianapolis World publisher A. E. Manning—his competitor and a YMCA board member—rushed into the parlor. “Doctor, your time’s up!” he announced to Washington as he whisked him off to the event.

  At Senate Avenue and Michigan Street, more than 500 people crowded around the façade of the sturdy four-story brick Senate Avenue YMCA as Washington, Madam Walker and Manning made their way from her car to the sparkling glass entryway. Inside the building at least 1,200 black and white Indianapolis residents were crammed shoulder to shoulder, filling every available corner in the spacious gymnasium and the lobby as a mid-summer thunderstorm scattered the group outdoors. Late into the evening, just before ten o’clock, former Vice President Charles Fairbanks introduced Washington. “This building should make our young men more industrious, more ambitious and more economical,” Washington assured the audience. “Let this building result in putting a new spirit, a new ambition, into every young man of our race in Indianapolis.”

  He chose not to mention the disappointing news that more than half of the $20,600 pledged by the city’s black community had not yet been collected. Less than $4,000 of the $59,000 pledged by whites remained outstanding. More a reflection of the limited resources of the community than any willful withholding, such a sobering and dissonant note might have soured the festivities. Instead, the man who frequently had slighted Madam Walker singled her out among the large donors as she beamed from her honored seat on the dais.

  If she felt any residual resentment toward Washington, she refrained from revealing it. Instead, two weeks later, she assured him that it had been “a real pleasure . . . to be able to do my part toward making your stay here a pleasant one.” Intent upon achieving her own goals, Madam Walker lathered on the compliments to a man whose ego required flattery. Of his house gift—a book he had authored—she wrote, “I shall read it with pleasure and cherish it as a token from one who is always proud of the success of another.”

  A few weeks later Madam Walker and Alice Kelly—the former Eckstein-Norton teacher who had recently joined her firm—were driven from Indianapolis to New York by Madam’s chauffeur, Homer West. In Harlem, Lelia joined them for the road trip to Philadelphia for the fourteenth annual National Negro Business League convention. Arriving in her Cole, Madam Walker, Lelia and Miss Kelly must have caused a stir among the admiring male delegates, who marveled at the automobile’s 40-horsepower 6-cylinder engine.

  To Madam Walker’s delight—and in contrast to her chilly reception the previous July—she was saluted by Washington as “a striking example of the possibilities of Negro womanhood in the business world.” Known for calculating the impact of any gesture he made on his image and his school’s bottom line, Washington apparently had discovered sufficient mutual benefit to embrace Madam Walker, just as she had measured the merits of his public approval. If nothing else, Washington must have begun to realize her moneymaking potential, as well as the symbolic and inspirational value of having a former washerwoman turned philanthropist support his school. She, in turn, fully understood the advantages of having a connection with the man who controlled the editorial policies and purse strings of dozens of black newspapers.

  Because Washington had reserved a place for her on the program, Madam Walker had the luxury of approaching the proceedings with more serenity than she had brought to the 1912 convention. Pleased to have Lelia by her side during the three-day conference, she proudly introduced her stylish daughter—the proprietor of her New York and Pittsburgh offices—to Washington and the other delegates.

  Madam Walker also may have taken particular pleasure in seeing her old friends C. K. Robinson and Jessie Robinson. But, given the rivalry that still simmered between her and Annie Pope-Turnbo, she likely was less than thrilled to hear C.K. laud Pope-Turnbo, his fellow St. Louisan, as a “progressive business woman, who has built up . . . a large and magnificently appointed establishment devoted exclusively to hair culture.” Confident, however, that she would take the stage within less than an hour, Madam Walker easily endured the fleeting focus on Pope-Turnbo, as well as the interminable local league reports that had frustrated her the previous year. Instead of having to muscle her way to the podium after a string of addresses on shoe polish manufacturing, catering and the florist business, she was ushered forward. “I now take pleasure in introducing to the convention one of the most progressive and successful business women of our race—Madam C. J. Walker, of Indianapolis, Indiana,” Washington said generously.

  As she moved toward the lectern, Madam Walker had every reason to be composed and in command. “Mr. President and members of the National Negro Business League,” she began, “at Chicago last year, I said that my income per month was $1,500, and promised to double that amount by the time of this meeting.” Each month since February, she told them, she had done just that. Now with a full week still remaining in August, she had already topped the $3,500 mark, for an income of more than $32,000, the equivalent of more than a half million dollars in today’s money. “You can readily see that I have been able to make good my promise to you last year,” she said to prolonged applause.

  But heartened as she was by Washington’s warm welcome, she did not shy away from noting his previous lack of receptivity. “Now in the so-called higher walks of life, many were prone to look down upon ‘hair dressers’ as they called us,” she said frankly. “They didn’t have a very high opinion of our calling, so I had to go down and dignify this work, so much so that many of the best women of our race are now engaged in this line of business, and many of them are now in my employ.”

  Among them was her traveling companion Alice Kelly, a Mobile, Alabama, native, who, along with Reverend Charles H. Parrish, had provided Madam Walker’s first entree to Booker T. Washington. After Eckstein-Norton merged with another Kentucky school in 1912, Madam Walk
er persuaded Kelly to join the Walker Company as factory forelady. Proficient in Greek, Latin and French, Kelly had also become Madam Walker’s private tutor, supplementing her meager formal education by helping to polish her speech, grammar, penmanship and etiquette. Such efforts at self-improvement, as well as “honesty of purpose, determined effort, the real merit of my preparations and the fact that I am not and never have been ‘close-fisted,’” Madam Walker advised the delegates, were the secrets to her success.

  As the applause subsided, Washington moved to her side. “We thank her for her excellent address and for all she has done for our race,” he said, provoking knowing laughter from those who believed her products had brought improvements to the grooming habits of her customers. “You talk about what the men are doing in a business way; why if we don’t watch out, the women will excel us,” he warned good-naturedly.

  Under the refrain of “Blest be the tie that binds,” Madam Walker could savor the sweet satisfaction that she had already bypassed most of the men in the room. Even sweeter was Washington’s newly accommodating demeanor. Now, rather than approaching her with condescension, he treated her, if not as an equal, then with considerably more respect.

  That fall Madam Walker wrote seeking his advice for her vision to establish an African school modeled on Tuskegee. “I know absolutely nothing about building a school,” she admitted, “but am willing to furnish the means as far as I am able.” Washington’s answer, while not optimistic, lacked the dismissive tone of his earliest letters to her. “I wish I could offer some suggestion likely to prove helpful,” he replied, but rather than suggest naiveté on her part, he confessed that his own efforts at a similar project had been unsuccessful.

  “We ourselves have been considering several places for some two or three years,” Washington confided, “but it is difficult for persons as far away as we are and unfamiliar with all of the circumstances.” In fact, in 1900 he had sent three Tuskegee graduates and a faculty member to the West African nation of Togo with plows and a steam cotton gin to “interbreed” native and American cotton. Despite the promising enrollment of 200 African students in an agricultural school, the effort ultimately failed in 1909 when the director drowned in an accident and tsetse flies, locusts, drought and disease made the endeavor too costly.

  In order to observe Tuskegee Institute’s behind-the-scenes operations—and to learn more about running a school—Madam Walker spent part of February 1914 on campus. At Washington’s request, she addressed the students after daily religious exercises. While there, she attended both the academic classes and the industrial training sessions. Impressed with the diligence of the student body—more than 1,500 young men and women from 32 states and 17 foreign countries—Madam Walker was persuaded by Washington to consider providing scholarships.

  She followed her visit to Alabama with a small contribution, although Washington had requested much more. “Next year I hope to be able to help you in a larger way,” she promised. But just as Washington had informed her a few years earlier that his work at Tuskegee required most of his attention and resources, she felt no qualms about telling him—albeit with more grace than he had shown her—that “while it is true I have a large business, yet with the increase in business comes the increase in expenses.” Her intention to “build on all of my unimproved property here in Indianapolis,” she said, demanded a large portion of her financial reserves.

  Nevertheless, a few months later, at Washington’s urging she pledged additional financial assistance for three male and two female students, including a young African man “whom I am educating for the purpose of founding and establishing a Negro Industrial School on the West Coast of Africa.” Still Madam Walker reminded Washington that her resources were not limitless. “I am unlike your white friends who have waited until they were rich and then help,” she scolded him. “But have in proportion to my success . . . reached out and am helping others, which may have been a mistake perhaps because I have been mistaken for a rich woman, which has caused scores of demands for help.”

  Certainly Washington had no illusions that her philanthropy could be on a par with that of multimillionaires Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller and Julius Rosenwald—some of Tuskegee’s primary benefactors and among America’s wealthiest men. Beginning in the 1890s Rockefeller annually had given the school at least $10,000, an amount that his son later increased. At first Carnegie had provided a similar amount, but after his admiration for Washington increased, he contributed $600,000 in U.S. Steel bonds for Tuskegee’s endowment, a part of which was to be set aside as a private reserve to be used by Washington “for his wants and those of his family.”

  Having agreed to Washington’s requests for scholarship support, Madam Walker felt comfortable in making an appeal of her own that he include her hairdressing course in Tuskegee’s curriculum, teaching “it as you would any other industry.” She offered to “build a little cottage for it,” hoping that he would see the logic as well as the financial advantages to her proposal. “It would add quite a revenue to your school,” she said persuasively, “as this work is an industry whereby [the students] can make more money than they could by sewing, or cooking or any other of these industries.” Washington declined the offer, blaming the members of his executive committee, whom he said “are of the opinion that the time is not ripe for us to add this additional industry to our course.” Nevertheless he softened his refusal by expressing his “very great pleasure” that she had enjoyed her recent campus visit.

  As usual, Madam Walker was not deterred. Several weeks later she reminded Washington of her proposition “in regards to adopting my work as a part of the curriculum in your school.” Just as he had been persistent in his request for scholarship funds, she was unwilling to let the matter drop. “I think I have demonstrated the fact to you that my business is a legitimate one as well as a lucrative one,” she argued. “If successful it would mean thousands of dollars to both Tuskegee and myself . . . Then I could not only give hundreds of dollars to Tuskegee but thousands of dollars.” Anticipating his refusal, she still hoped to extract some quid pro quo in exchange for her personal support of his institution. “If you can not see your way clear to adopt the work I do hope you will be willing to give me your endorsement in a public way,” she added. Washington, however, remained firm in his rejection. “I have already written you frankly and fully with reference to putting your work in our course of study: our Trustees and Executive Committee do not see their way clear to follow your suggestion.” It is unlikely, however, that the Tuskegee board would have overruled Washington had he truly favored the proposal. Having been so adamant in his early opposition to hairdressing for black women, he appears to have remained reluctant to sanction the occupation by including it as a course of study.

  Still, at the August 1914 NNBL convention in Muskogee, Oklahoma, Washington once again gave Madam Walker and Lelia—who herself was now an NNBL life member—a friendly reception. On the second day of the proceedings, Washington surprised Madam Walker by summoning her to the platform. “She always says something we are glad to listen to,” he said over enthusiastic applause. Referring to her ever-expanding philanthropy, he praised her as one who “not only makes money in business but gives liberally to many worthy enterprises. It is always encouraging to know that people are successful in business, but it is always more satisfactory to see them willing to distribute some of their profits among all good causes.”

  Calling the invitation an “unexpected pleasure,” she used the opportunity to make a request of the delegates. “In coming before you I simply want to ask a favor of you in order that I, in turn, may be able to do more favors for our race.”

  Aware that most of the audience was familiar with her business, she used her time to discuss her dreams to create jobs for black women. “I am not merely satisfied in making money for myself, for I am endeavoring to provide employment for hundreds of the women of my race,” she said. Her own struggles, she hoped, could provide a pa
th for others.

  “I had little or no opportunity when I started out in life . . . I had to make my own living and my own opportunity,” she recounted to hearty applause. “But I made it. That is why I want to say to every Negro woman present, don’t sit down and wait for the opportunities to come, but you have to get up and make them!”

  Having excited them with her aspirations, she asked the delegates to pass a resolution endorsing her work because “it will help me to be of more practical service to the several worthy causes in which I am particularly interested” and “because it will help me in the struggle I am making to build up Negro womanhood.” And lest some of the men balk at the idea of women working and advancing in business, she reminded them, “If the truth were known there are many women who are responsible for the success of you men.” Their laughter and applause confirmed that they understood her meaning.

  With Washington’s approval, the resolution endorsing her as “the foremost business woman of our race” passed with no opposition.

  At every convention Madam Walker attended during 1913 and 1914, she continued to campaign for this self-appointed title, no doubt to advance her goals for other women, but also to best her competitors. Both the Court of Calanthe at the Knights of Pythias convention in Baltimore and the women’s auxiliary of the National Baptist Convention in Nashville in 1913 unanimously endorsed Madam Walker’s hair preparations “as the best on the market” and proclaimed her “the foremost businesswoman of the race.” During the NACW’s 1914 biennial meeting, Victoria Clay Haley—one of Madam Walker’s longtime St. Louis friends—presented a motion to “endorse the work of Madam C. J. Walker, who is doing so much for the elevation of the race.”