Then Kenneth presented his plan. He outlined in detail how the society should be organized. He proposed that the first lodge be formed at Ashland, then gradually spread until there was a branch in every section of the county. They left until later the problem of extending the society’s activities to other parts of Georgia and the neighbouring States. Each member would be required to pay an initiation fee of one dollar. Men would pay monthly dues of fifty cents each, women twenty-five. The sums thus secured were to be pooled. Half of the amount was to purchase supplies like sugar, flour, shoes, clothing, fertilizer, seeds, farm implements, and the other things needed to satisfy the simple wants of the members. To make up any deficit, Kenneth and Mr. Phillips agreed to lend money that the supplies might be purchased for cash, effecting thereby a considerable saving. The other half was to be used as the nucleus of a defence fund with which a test case might be made in the courts when any member was unable to secure a fair settlement with his landlord.
Similarly were other details presented and discussed and adopted or modified. A name had to be chosen. Kenneth would have preferred a short, simple one, but here he was overruled. That it might appeal to the simple, illiterate class to which most of the prospective members belonged, a sonorous, impressive name was necessary. They decided on “The National Negro Farmers’ Cooperative and Protective League.”
At first the plan was considered a bit too ambitious, but as Kenneth warmed up to it in presenting it as simply and forcefully as he could, the objections, one by one, were overcome. One change, however, had to be made. It came from Hiram Tucker.
“Ain’t you figgerin’ on havin’ no signs and passwords and a grip like dey have with de Odd Fellers and de Masons and de Knights of Pythias?” he asked.
“I didn’t think that was necessary,” replied Kenneth.
“Well, lemme tell you somethin’, son. Ef you figgers on gettin’ a big passel of these cullud folks ’round here to jine in with us, you’ll have t’ have some ’ficials with scrumptious names, and passwords and grips. Dese here ign’ant folks needs somethin’ like dat to catch their ’magination. If you put dat in, they’ll jine like flies ’round molasses.”
Kenneth had hoped that the society would be run on a dignified and intelligent basis, but he realized that Hiram Tucker might be right after all. Most of the sharecroppers were ignorant—at least, illiterate. Mere show and pomp and colourful uniforms and high-sounding names played a large part in their lives, which, after all, wasn’t so much a racial as a human trait. Hadn’t the Ku Klux Klan outdone, in absurdity of name and ceremony and dress, anything that Negroes had ever even thought of?
This question was disposed of, after more discussion, by the adoption of Hiram Tucker’s suggestion. Kenneth was appointed to work out the details of organization, and the meeting adjourned. The National Negro Farmer’s Cooperative and Protective League had been born.
XIII
The days that followed were full of interest for Kenneth and Jane. The constitution and bylaws were drafted and approved and sent to Atlanta to be printed by a coloured printing firm. Judge Stevenson prepared the articles of incorporation and did the necessary legal work, still refusing any pay for his services. Kenneth had offered to pay him out of his own pocket, but the judge told him: “Keep your money, Ken, I c’n wait. I’m gettin’ along in years now and I’ve been hopin’ that this problem that’s cursin’ the South would be settled befo’ I passed on. But what with these damn fool Kluxers kickin’ up hell ’round here, I don’t know whether I’ll see it or not. Your idea may do some good—I don’t know whether it will or not—but if I c’n help, let me know.” Kenneth thanked him and had been immeasurably encouraged by the old man’s attitude.
As soon as the literature they had ordered was received, the first meeting was called by Tucker and Tracy at Ashland. Jane and her father drove out with Kenneth, who was to present the plan to the group gathered. The meeting was held at a little wooden church, whitewashed on the outside, and furnished within only with rude benches. On the walls were one or two highly coloured lithographs of religious subjects. The hall seated not more than two hundred and was crowded to capacity. Even the windows were comfortably filled by those unable to obtain a seat on the floor. The illumination was furnished by four kerosene lamps attached to the walls, two on each side.
Hiram Tucker acted as chairman, while Tom Tracy took minutes of the meeting. After a preliminary announcement of the purpose of the gathering by the chairman, Kenneth was called upon to outline the plan that had been proposed. At the outset, having had no experience as a public speaker, he stumbled and faltered and knew not what to do with his hands. After a few minutes he jammed them into the side pockets of his coat and, warming to his subject, swung into a clear, forceful, and convincing recital of the purpose and possibilities of the cooperative societies. His enthusiasm became infectious. His audience began to share his zeal. Humble and lowly folks, their vision limited by the life they led, they had the feeling, as Kenneth talked on, of having been face to face with a blank wall of immeasurable height and impenetrable thickness. Under the spell of his words they seemed to see the miraculous
