The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1904-06-03
A pURE-BRED NEGRO RELATES
The Head Waiter at the Hotel Lafay-
cite, at Fayetteville, the Jack FAl-
staff Of The Political Riot ut
- Wilmington IN fs9S-He Tells What
He Did I'm the Time OF Danger.

Wilmingson IN fssS-He Tells What
He Did In the Time OF Danger.
Cred Buck in Charlotte Observer.)
Jim Reeves. the popuIar head waiter
lat the Hotel Lafayette. at Fayette-
willie. is all negro, n a yard wide. He
lis a fine individual Of the pure-bred
lAfro-American. being large, robust
land black. with spreading lips and
lchalkwhite teeth. Had he been born
land reared in Africa, he would be a
ruler OF many peoples. and n that
his subjects would be proud to look
upon. But il Is a great deal better
THAT Jim should be here. in North Car
lolina, at the head OF Colonel Malcolm
Matthews dining-room force. for his
life is sweeter, made so by the Jingle
lof the silver tips hat drop into his
lsturdy. strong. grasping hand: he Is a
~tfavorite with the travelling public. is
trusted and appreciated by his employ
er. and respected and fearel by those
who work under him. None but the
Ichronic kickers dislike Jim Reeves.
Like the Hindoo. Jim e h best he
kin doc.
1 thing Jim owes much to Miss Kate
lStewart, OF Southport, who had
lcharge Of him when a boy. Miss Kate
lis one Of the wellkRown boarding
hou.e keepers OF the state. From
lSouthport Jim went to Wilmington.
partial to Wilmington, but the riot Of
l1SS8 gave him such a fright h a he
has never quite ecovered. Although
a powerfully built man Jim could not
fbe q soldier. He has the kind Of cour-
lage that would make him. If hungry,
face a ~well-cooked steer, but not the
kind that would carry him in range Of
a bullet hot from the muzzle Of a rife.
IAbject fear takes hold Of him-the
fear that makes ones muscles tremble
knees smite together and hair stand
ON end. This may seem strange but
it is true; the whole Of the 225 pounds
of besh thot ii mcarries went back on
him. Is Il ashamed Of It? No: he
looks upU.. honor as did Jack Falstaf,
THE pOrtly character with chicken
heart that Shakespeare sends out to do
battle in Henry the Fourth" The
Ireaders of that famous dissertation on
honor will recall it. In the facs of
danger Falstaff said: 'Well, It's no
matter, honor pricks me on. Yea, but
how If honor pricks me off when 1
come n How then? a honor set a
leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take
away the grief of a wound? No.
Honor hath no skill in surgery. then?
No. What is honor? A word? What
is in the word? Honor. What is that
honor?Air.. A trim reckoning! Whot
hath it? He that died on Wednesday.
Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it?
No. Is it insensible, then? Yes to the
dead. But will it not live with the
living? Mo. Why? Detraction wtwll
mot suffer it; therefore, I'll none of it.
II 0~ fC n ~on~~ 81
my catechism."
Jim Reeves vas the Jack Falstaff of
the Wilmington riot. Like fat Falstaff,
lhe believes that 1.-THE better part of
Ivalor is discretion"
When the riot broke out, Jim was
lat work for the Sprunts, the cotton
compressers n exporters. The
ISprunts liked Jim; he is a good cotton
|weigher. He was at h scales when
the red shirts Of New Hanover began
to wage war on the negro officeholders
and their white allies. But 1 shall let
Jim tell the story. Jim can use good
lclear English, but when reciting the
details of his experience on that historic
occasion he drops from he dignity Of
this" and that" and was" and
"arn't," to dis and dat and "wuz"
land amt"
In order to get Jim off on the right
foot, I asked:
Jim. how long have you been here
with Mr.. Mack?"
"Since November. 1898, the time Of
the riot in Wilmington, boss" was the
READY reply.
What about that riot-were you in
lit?"
I'm it? Not any mo- den I cour help.
IL wuz de wust skeered niger dat
you ever seed in yo' life. 1 amt gut
lover it yiti"
We'll. go on, Jim, and tell me
something about t." 1 said.
Say. boss, you amt goin' to pub
lish nothin' dat'H hurt me?"
mo. you know I won't"
We'll, it wuz in de mornin'. and I
lwuz weighin, cotton for Mr.. Sprunt's
sons. De fust thing dat looked sus-
lpicious to me wuz when Mr.. Henry
lPeschau, the tickle collector. come
lout to de warehouse where we all wuz
lat work. I saw him whisper somefin'
lin the yea of Mr.. James d. Smith,
imy boss. Den the fire bell rang. an
kept on ringin'. I knowed somefin'
Iwuz the matter.
1T sho' wuz a pretty day; de sun
,wuz shinin', an a gentle sea breeze
swept about de city. I remember ii
as we'll: de niggers wuZ singin'
tCarry Me Back to Ole Virginny.' But
boss. de singin' stopped short when
Ia wild coon come fiyin' along, yellin'
oh, lhy Id"o. Lie Tcu III ID uOuc
killed n man, an devil git US all.
II never seen a niger make tracks
faster than dat niger. He went
lto'ads de wharf, an amt never been
lseen since. Some say he jumped in
lde river an wuz drowned. I can't
tell, for I left dat place putty soon
myself.
de look OF dat Niger skeered de
truckers. All. but de weighers quit
work. De boss men had to shut the
presses down. Soon de stevedores or
Ide big boats knocked off. We weigh
led on for a while. Mr.. Willie Sprunt
told us to stay at our posts. dat no
body would bother US, but 1 got so
nervous dat 1 couldn't pull a bale of
cotton on de scales. Ny boss saw me
lshakin' IN said, Jim. I'll get you a
ttoddy;' but I declare, boss, IL wouldn't
lido me n good.
He wuZ so sorry for me dat he
asked: Well. what kin / do for you?