The Brownies’ Book, April 1920, letters from readers (Text)
The Jury
(Images: sketch of children lined up in two rows, looking over a wall; ornate capital letter I)
I am a constant reader of the crisis and it takes me from six o’clock until nine to read it from cover to cover. And then there remains an endless year of waiting for the next number. Sometimes I just wish the crisis had a thousand pages. It is really a book that never tires one. I read something in the crisis about a mother’s sitting alone in despair, thinking about her children long ago, lost to her. And it reminds me of another mother, our mother country Africa. And it was that thought which forced me to write the enclosed poem Africa.
I will tell you just a little about myself. I live in a stuffy little town where things go on year after year. The same. I was not born here. The place is too small. It’s killing me, my soul calls for larger things. So I appealed to you. I have been called odd. In fact, I know that I am odd and I don’t like to do things like other people. And that’s why I am sending my work on plain paper. And if you don’t publish it, burn it up.
I hope I haven’t bothered you. I hope you will. Excuse this hoard letter and all the errors.
Pearl staple. Charlotesville Virginia.
PS. I am only 15 years old. So please have a little pity.
I thought you might like to know about my scrapbook. It is a large square book filled with sheets. Of course, brown paper with two covers with holes punched through and tied together with the string. And it, I keep all the pictures. I can find interesting colored people and the interesting things they do. I have pictures of Frederick Douglas, Bishop Allen, Harriet Tubman, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and lots of others. I like the pictures, especially. But now that I’m reading the brownies book, I see there must be a lot of important colored people that I didn’t know about. I’d love to see pictures of Katie Ferguson and captain Kofi. If you have them, won’t you print them so I can cut them out and put them in my book.
ADA Simpson Jersey City, N.J.
The Brandy’s book has just come and I’m sitting down and tell you about it. I liked the second one better than the first, the drawings of the insects and the story about fairy land are so funny.
If I should write a good piece, would you put it in. I’m 12 years old, but most folks think I’m younger because I am so short. But you don’t have to be tall to write. Do you. My mother says I’ve been scribbling ever since I was very tiny. I’m going to send you one of my pieces.
Elizabeth Harris, Atlanta, G.A.
When I read about captain koofie, I thought about a trip I made once. I’ve always liked the water. Uh, one summer we were in the country. I was only about seven years old. How I manage it. I don’t know, but I made a raft and pulled my way about three miles down the Delaware river. When they found me, I was lying on the bank asleep with tears on my cheeks. If there were any chance of getting in the Navy, I had to enlist when I get through school. But anyway, I sure know I’m going to travel just like captain koofie. Maybe I’ll go to Africa to.
Carter Marie Trenton, N.J.
I wish you would tell me what to do. I’m 15 years old and I want to study music, my mother and father object to it very much. They say no colored. People can succeed entirely as musicians that they have to do other things to help make their living. And that I might just as well start doing this first as last. Of course I say that just because things have been this way, that’s no sign. That there’ll be that like that forever. But they talk me down.
Once you tell me what you think about this and tell me too about colored musicians who have made their living by sticking to the thing they love. Best of course I knew about Colleridge Taylor and Ms. Burley.
Augustus Hill, Albany N.Y.