The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-07-05
BLIND TOM IN RETIREMENT.
How the Afflicted Musician Passes
These Summer Days.
From the Nelo York sun.

music of sweet toned piano floats softly
from the interior of the old h ouse and min
Giles a delightful harmony with the dull
hum of traffic in the populous thorough
faro Men and women hurrying to ami
fro in the street stop often to listen to the
strains. The fingers that so deity touch
+he KEYS and draw such wondrous sympho-
,,ies from the instrument arc those of a
strapping big negro who sits at the piano
in the spacious back parlor, and for hours
sometimes those residents who are foftu-
nete enough to have living quarters in the
houses in Ninth street whose back windows
look upon tho rear porch OF the old-fash-
toned dwelling have a rare and delightful
treat The back windows Of the old dwell
ing. reaching from floor to ceiling, are
thrown open to the summer breezes and the
sunshine, and all the wondrous variety of
melody that the negro draws from his
Grand piano floats out upon the balmy air
in waves Of captivating sound.
Every once in a while the stalwart Afri-
can will start up from his seat and rush
out upon the porch, and pace up and down
like an imprisoned animal, beating his
chest and moaning piteously. A railing
that reaches above his waist completely
cuts off egress to the little garden patch
that blooms in the back yard, and he runs
his hand along it as if he were trying to
find stairway to the garden.
"How are you, Toms What's the mat
terri some one who has been listening is
sure to say when the musician makes such
sudden appearances on the porch. Their
greeting is always oheery, Tor al the listen
ers know we'll that the big -okested negro
is none other than Blind Tom, the famous
Ethiopian pianist. Tom never appears in
public. He is suffering from some nervous
complaint that renders a repetition Of his
stage performances impossible.
For hours daily he trsmps Up ana down
the porch in his slippered feet, clad in blue
trousers and a dark flannel yachting shirt,
bareheaded and uneasy. Be behaves like
All imprisoned bear, at times crouching on
ali fours or dancing up and down N a mys-
terious delirium. He has worn a ridge in
the flooring of the porch near the hand rail
py his restless promenade to and fro.
Music or harmonious sounds seem to be the
only influences that ever divert him from
these capers on the porch.
One Sunday recently the chimes in Grace
church steeple on Broadway began to ring,
and the echoes, softened by the distance
thew had traversed, struck Toms ear with
a sweet Standardization that reproduced
note by note the beautiful hymn, Nearer,
my God, to Thee"
In an instant the blinded giant ceased
his tramp ON the porch, and, resting mis-
hand on the railing, raised his sightless eyes
TO the sky, and, turning his head III the d.
rection of the chimes, stood like statue,
listening with rapt attention to the melody.
The echoes died away finally, and waiting
some moments to hear if they would con-
tinue, he CROPPED his way through the open
window into the parlor, and seating him
self at the piano, ran his fingers over the
keys in a sudden inspiration. What he
played was an imitation, as perfect as the
piano would allow, of the music of the
chimes Tom repeated the same stirring
imitation when a little later the chimes
again rang out upon the June breeze.
Then he rose from the piano, went out on
the porch, and listened IN a curiously intent
way to the noise made by the tapping
wings of flock of pigeons, whose cote is
built against the wall of an adjoining
house.
The sun meantime rose SO that its hot
rays broke past the shade of tree in the
garden and beat against the side partition
of the porch. The big negro leaned on his
hand against the partition. He withdrew
it the moment he felt the heat. The sensa-
ton seemed to puzzle him, for he placed
his hand on the partition again, withdrew
it second time, and began to stroke it and
to ponder. He stood in this way stroking
his hand for many moments. Then he
looked up and smiled. 1t had dawned upon
him at last that what he had felt was sun
shine. He held both hands aloft, and
CROPPED in the air until he discovered by his
sense of feeling that he was standing in the
RAYS of the sun He remained on the spot
moLionless. with his sightless OrbS opened
wide to the golden rays, and laughed with
the glee Of a child who had found new
paything.
One day last week when he had found the
sunlight in this same cropping way a serv-
ant girl, with hig6-keved, discordant
voice, began to sing white Wings" as
loudly as she could She was at work some
distance from Toms house, but he heard
her voice distinctly. 1t appeared to CRATE
upon his nerves terribly, and he dashed UP
and down the porch in rage, and finally
turning his face i'll the direction OF the
singer he let loose the vocal batteries of his
wrath full upon her.
''Shut uD can't you!" he screamed. You
ought be ashamed of yourself to make such
a frightful noisen
He poured out rebuke in this frantic
style for many minutes, while tenants of
surrounding houses, who had strongly
grounded prejudice themselves against the
servant girls vocallzation, roared with
laughter.
''Giveit to her, Tom" some Of them cried
approvingly; "she deserves it.
Every time the girl tried to sing after
that she ran against the same torrent of re-
buke from the negro musician. She tried
desperately to sing him into silence, but
W oIOP OLO VI oLSCA VI AOA-
cisrn.
His method of complimenting good musi-
clans is as fattering as his rebuke Of dis
cord is severe and maddening. There are
some cultivated vocalists and pianists in
the Ninth street fats whose rear windows
look out on his porch, and he stands and
listens, smiling whenever the trained voices
practice, or the pIanists, who in this in
stance are young women, play. Then he
owes into his parlor and plays the music of
the song, or repeats the piano air on his
own grand piano. 1t is a mighty popular
way OF showing his appreciation.
For several days last week workmen were
busy painting the railing and partitions Of
the porch, and putting down a carpet on
the worn floor. During all this time Tom
himself was invisible, and the neighbors,
who enjoyed his capers and his piano play
ing, began TO comment anxiously upon his
continued absence.
Il wonder where Tom can have gone tor
sald one of the tenants Of the Ninth street
mats as he sat in the sunshine.
Give me that piccolo," exclaimed fell
low tenant, land I'll fetch him out"
The last speaker raised the piccolo to his
iips and sent the notes of the pretty ballad,
My Nelly's Blue Eyes" floating over TO
The porch. He played cleverly for several
minutes without effect. Then there was
a connection in the parlor, the bolts Of the