Normal to Frederick Douglass, May 30, 1857
PHILADELPHIA, Penn.,
May 30th, 1857
FREDERICK DOUGLASS, ESQ.—DEAR SIR:—We have never yet been able to see why Philadelphians should not plead guilty to the charge that theirs is the most intensely negro-hating city in the Union. When we trace as we do sometimes in every form and feature, an expression of utter indifference, if not contempt, on the part of many of our influential Saxon citizens, toward the colored; it looks to us very much as if every day were a step from a recognition of our manhood. There is hardly a public place into which a colored man can go, assured that he will not be insulted, ordered out, or perchance, dragged out like a brute. An appeal to the law avails him nothing but the chagrin and mortification of defeat and paying costs of suit. Be it known, however, that amidst all this, there are but a few of these public places, that have had the courage to announce and advertise themselves as
proscribers of colored visitors; this work is generally done by menial, unscrupulous door-keepers with a horde of policemen at their backs. One of these few is Musical Fund Hall. It is one of the most uncompromisingly, unflinchingly pro-slavery nests in all christendom. "No colored person will ever be admitted to the Hall as one of an audience," has been published broadcast as its faith. The Colonization Society held its annual meeting there a short time since. We were honored with a ticket, and thinking it an admirable opportunity for stirring up the matter afresh, we with a friend of a hue like our own, went, fully anticipating an unpleasant sequel. On entering we were politely received; and speedily ushered into the "Ladies Dressing Room," where we found Bishop Potter and several of his clerical friends chattering and preparing business. Some of them were quite flattering in their attention to us.—At length the hour for opening arrived, and we were honored with an invitation to take a seat upon the platform, which we promptly declined. We assured all concerned that unless our tickets were taken at the door for the entrance of the audience and ourselves allowed to pass in as did others of the audience, we should decline to enter at all.—We went to the door, where we were sternly refused admittance. "You cant go in here!" said a surly looking doorkeeper anxious, no doubt to show his loyalty. We demanded the reasons.—"The rules of the Institution are imperative and leave no choice," replied he in a highly excited and decided manner, as if he would tear us asunder for our "negro impudence" in presuming to question him. Certain of the Society saw the position they would be placed in, by our being driven away, interposed, and after some little parleying, we were admitted on our own terms before set forth. The only thing worthy of note in the proceedings of the meeting, was the speech
of ex-Gov. J. B. Pinney. We have seldom heard a more eloquent denunciation of color-phobia; and then to know [illegible] as being pronounced in the stronghold of prejudice, made it doubly pleasing to us. "I started day before yesterday," said he, "in company with a colored gentleman to go from New York to Baltimore. I had scarcely quitted the shores of New York before the colored man was ordered into the forward car. I then protested and asked if the car we were in was not car A, showing our tickets. But the conductor was inexorable and my colored friend had finally to "obey orders." I followed and found in the car which was a miserable and filthy concern, besides being uncomfortable, hung up all the letters A, B, C. &c., so that it were quite impossible for any one to get a ticket that would not answer to it. Disgusted and indignant at the meanness meted out to us on the cars, we arrived in Philadelphia. To ride over to the Baltimore Depot, I jumped into an omnibus, asked my colored friend to follow, and was making room for him; when he was about to enter, the driver thundered out "get out of there, you nigger: you come up here on the outside." My cheeks tingled with shame at your city of brotherly love. We are talking about elevating the colored race in Liberia to the dignity of an independent nation, when in the very heart of civilization here, you have not yet elevated them to the dignity of a seat in an omnibus. (applause.) We must not shut our eyes to the fact that we are wronging and outraging a brother man in our petty acts of tyranny and prejudice toward him. We owe him an education and elevation here." Thus the Governor continued, meeting applause at nearly every one of his eloquent and burning sentences.
We have no sympathy whatsoever with the Colonization Society as such; but we should most certainly like to have Gov. Pinney give this speech in every Music Fund Hall from this Atlantic shore to the valley of the Mississippi and beyond the Rocky Mountains. Indeed we were quite taken aback at such noble sentiments coming from a Colonizationist, in such a place.
Wm. Wells Brown has read his two dramas here in "Samson st. Hall," to rather small audiences.—"The Doughface Baked" is a drama of Mr. B's which is well gotten up; its ground work is good Mr. B. reads it with good effect. But we may be allowed to question the amount of good effected by it and similar performances. Slavery is a great concrete reality, and as such it seems to us best to deal with it. We can see about it to make sport of. The slave dialect and plantation grammar necessarily bro't into a piece like Mr. B's, are not in our opinion, calculated to soften prejudice or do away with the absurd notion among white men, that colored men are not fit associates for them. But to hear the drama and witness the tact and ingenuity displayed in
its composition, are so far as that is concerned, well worth the time and money of an admirer of literary attainment in the colored race.
Mr. B. had some very intelligent looking persons in his audience, small though it was, among which we saw William Lloyd Garrison.
Franklin Pierce was amongst us a short time but he failed to make anything of a sensation.—He put up at the La Pierre House. One night, a few boys and young men got together, went to the La Pierre, and called for Mr. P., who readily enough came forward and delivered himself of some labored, prosy sentences. Next morning The Pennsylvanian came out with a flaming caption "Great speech of ex-President Pierce," at which everybody who heard Frank's oration must have had a hearty laugh. We hope now that it is settled forever that ex Presidents of the United States are not worth much in Philadelphia.
"NORMAL."