It was New Year’s morning; for one week she had been reading and thinking of Jesus, and her Christmas gifts resulted in the happiest New Year she can ever have on earth, for then she first received Jesus, the hope of earth and joy of heaven, as her Saviour. Ever since then she has felt like saying to little girls and boys just giving up their childish toys, “Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.”
A CHRISTMAS STORY
Carrie Jane Thomas
“A Christmas Story,” published in the Christian Recorder in 1883, is a traditional children’s fable with mystical characters and magical events, including the mythical Santa Claus. It is a moral parable whose message to children is to be good and obedient to your parents and believe in Santa Claus, and all your wishes will be granted.
The story focuses on Minnie Leslie, a ten-year-old girl, one of four children who live with her parents in comfortable middle-class surroundings. The Leslie children have been encouraged to believe in Santa Claus and have been warned that if they are disobedient he will not leave them toys and gifts. Minnie, influenced by Lucy, a girlfriend, determines to stay awake to see Santa Claus and to dispute the claims of Lucy, who argues that Santa Claus is none other than Minnie’s parents.
Although little is known about Carrie Jane Thomas, she obviously was interested in writing children’s literature. “A Christmas Story” was written for middle-class black children, whose expectations of Santa Claus and Christmas paralleled those of their white counterparts. Unlike the Santa Claus depicted fifty years later by Langston Hughes in “One Christmas Eve,” and John Henrik Clarke in “Santa Claus Is a White Man,” Thomas’s traditional Santa Claus is universal in his love for all children. He could, and did, serve the purpose of middle-class parents, who used him as a kind of surrogate parent to maintain discipline and instill important values in their children.
A Christmas Story
It is Christmas night and Mr. and Mrs. Leslie are seated in their cozy parlor surrounded by their four children, Kittie, Susie, Willie, and Minnie, who is papa’s pet and allowed to do almost as she pleases. They are talking about the one thing Christmas brings—Santa Claus—each busy telling what is wanted. They keep such chattering you can scarcely hear your ears. When Mr. Leslie says, “children, it is ten o’clock,” all the noise is stopped at once and their faces become very sad, for they all know that it is their bedtime, and, knowing their father’s rules, not one dares protest, although the time has passed unusually quick. At last the silence is broken by “Pet” [Minnie].
“I am not going to bed at all tonight, papa; I am determined to see Santa Claus this night, for Lucy Bennett told me, when we were coming from school, that ma and pa were the Santa Claus and they put all the things into our stockings; but I told her I did not believe it. I am ten years old and never saw Santa Claus in my whole life, so I shall sit up all night.”
“Well, you won’t get anything,” says Kittie.
“I don’t care for anything, but to see Santa Claus,” [answers Minnie].
Her mama smiled and said, “I am afraid my little girl could not bear the sight of Santa, even if she could stay awake until he comes, which is very doubtful.”
“I know he won’t give you anything, cause you is so quisitive,” says Willie. “All the reason you gets anything is because he feels sorry for a poor tongue-tied boy like you that can’t talk plain,” [responds Minnie].
“You won’t be so fierce in the morning, when you begin to beg,” retorts Willie.
“Willie!” calls his mother, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself to tease your sister so; go to bed this moment.”
All of the children trooped off to bed. Mama and papa went up to their room, leaving poor Minnie all alone. “As the stockings were all hung in the parlor,” Minnie says to herself, “he is obliged to pass through here and I will sit close to my own stocking so I can see when he goes to put the goodies in.” Minnie exclaims, as she hears the clock strike eleven, “I am so glad it is eleven, I won’t have to wait long. They say he always comes at twelve.” If poor Minnie had known what she was destined to see at twelve, she would have gone to bed. But she did not, and so the time goes by and it is almost twelve o’clock. Minnie is so sleepy. She looks at the clock, only a quarter to twelve. “I cannot go to sleep. I must see him, and, besides, how they will laugh when I tell them I got sleepy and could not wait.” Just then she goes off, and the clock strikes twelve. The door opens and in walks Santa Claus, followed by twenty of his confederates. Santa Claus himself is a little fat man with white, bushy beard and white hair covered with a frost of many winters. He has a doll for Kittie, a horse and wagon for [Willie], dresses for Sue, and, in fact, everything they all wanted, but for Minnie he had nothing. Minnie began to whimper.
“What is the matter?” asks Santa, in a gruff voice, as if he had just seen her.
“I want something, too.”
“There will be more than you want presently,” and he proceeded to fill the stockings. When he had filled all but Minnie’s, he gave a whistle and marched through the room and passed out, followed by another whom she had not seen. His name was on his cap and Minnie saw that it was Disobedience. He was loaded with articles of every description. Minnie saw her blue silk dress, which she remembered wearing to an evening party when her mother told her not to do so. Then there was her last birthday present, a silver cup from papa, which her mother told her never to carry to the spring, but she disobeyed and dropped it into the spring. There were many other things, too numerous to mention. All this Minnie took in at a glance. He passed on and another took his place; he had scraps of rick-rack, crochet, and knitting dangling from head to foot; he also carried a box in his hand which was filled with dolls’ clothes, dresses and aprons without sleeves and without hems; there were the mittens she promised to Widow James, but never finished. He passed on and another came in with Minnie’s books, torn and scratched, with dolls’ heads, and crippled men and women drawn on them, which would make you laugh to see. The next had half worn shoes and stockings, which might have been given to some poor children, but Minnie had allowed them to lie around out of doors until they were unfit for use. Another came in making such horrible faces that Minnie covers her face with her hands and begins to scream, which awakens her to find that she has only been dreaming. She is as cold as she can be, for the fire has gone out and the room is dark. Minnie jumps up and goes to bed, where Kittie has been for at least three hours. Next morning the children were up searching their stockings, which were filled with everything they had asked for, and to Willie’s surprise, Minnie’s stocking was overflowing. You may be sure that was a memorable Christmas [for] Minnie, and I need not tell you that she is over forty years old and she has never tried waiting for Santa Claus again.
FANNIE MAY’S CHRISTMAS
Katherine Davis Tillman
Katherine Davis Chapman Tillman was born in Mound City, Illinois, on February 19, 1870, and at an early age she evidenced a special talent for writing. Encouraged by her mother, a gifted teacher and writer, she soon gained a reputation as a poet. In 1888, the Christian Recorder published “Memory,” her first poem. Her first short story appeared in Our Women and Children magazine, published by the American Baptist Publication Society. She soon became famous for her poetry and prose, which appeared in all the leading black newspapers and periodicals.
A graduate of the Yankton High School in South Dakota, she also attended the state university at Louisville, Kentucky, and Wilberforce University. Around 1890, she married George M. Tillman, an African Methodist Episcopal (AME) minister. As a Christian feminist activist, Tillman was editor of the Women’s Missionary Recorder and served as secretary of the Iowa Branch of the Women’s Mite Missionary Society for twelve years and as president of the North Missouri AME Conference Branch. Like many female church leaders, she was active in the National Association of Colored Women (NACW). Tillman was honorary president of the City Federation of Colorado Springs and honorary president of the Califor
nia Federation. As the director of the Baby Department of the NACW’s Public Posters and Prints, she monitored the publication and distribution of posters and prints illustrating negative images and derogatory caricatures of African American children. In 1919, she targeted the Gold Dust Twins, a popular and highly successful caricature of black children who were depicted in a variety of comical and demeaning antics on posters, playing cards, and other products. Tillman organized clubs throughout the United States to protest the N. K. Fairbank Company, the distributors of the materials. Although she did not succeed in having the products removed from the market, the firm toned down the images.
Tillman, an ardent feminist, stated in an 1893 AME Church Review article entitled “Some Girls That I Know,” that “there is one phase of my literary career that I thoroughly enjoy, and that is the privilege of writing to the young women of my race. Sometimes I address myself to them in stories, as in ‘Our Ruth,’ sometimes in poetry, but always I have an earnest desire to reach them and help them.” And so, in 1921, she wrote “Fannie May’s Christmas,” which was published in the Christian Recorder. The sub-theme of this short story is gender issues.
“Fannie May’s Christmas” is set in 1877 in Louisville, Kentucky. Eight-year-old Fannie May, the only child of a poor but hardworking family, has been informed that Santa probably will not visit her for Christmas because times are too hard and her mother is ill.
Under these dire circumstances, Fannie May and her family, together with friends and church members, work hard to make gifts and prepare goodies to share at Christmas. Through these efforts and another blessed event, the true meaning of Christmas is discovered and celebrated by Fannie May and her community.
Fannie May’s Christmas
It was a long time ago, for it was in 1877 that Fannie May, a dear little girl with brown face and long, silky braids of hair, of which she was very proud when it was properly beribboned, lived on York Street in the city of Louisville [Kentucky]. In addition to her beautiful hair, Fannie May had other attractions. She had bright, black eyes that seemed ever to hold a smile lurking in their depths and a disposition that made her loved from one end of the street in which she lived to the other.
Fannie May’s father worked across the street, in the big tobacco factory on the corner where he and a hundred others of Negro-American ancestry stemmed and packed tobacco for shipping.
Fannie May’s mother, a fair little woman of frail physique, worked for a kind white family when she was able. Living was very high in this beautiful Southern city, and when Fannie May’s father had paid the exorbitant rent demanded by his white landlord for their two-room home, kept fire in the kitchen stove, and in the grate fire place in the living room, bought wood and the cheapest kind of clothing, there was very little left of the seven dollars and a half pay that he received each week. Then, too, as her father would have told you himself, he was a typical Kentuckian of that day, and a laboring man must have his morning toddy, and the little store on the corner with its bar in the rear sometimes got a third of his week’s pay.
So you see when Fannie May’s mother was ailing as she had been now for several weeks and could not go to work for her “white folks,” it looked mighty, mighty, slim for Christmas doings at Fannie May’s humble little home.
And since there were just two things, out of all the things in the whole round world, that Fannie May had set her heart on, it did seem as if a little girl who didn’t act greedy and ask for lots and lots of things like May Bell and Prudie Ann, two of her little friends, might have those two things.
But while Fannie May was only eight, she had lots of sense, and Grannie Hope, who lived next door, always declared she was “old in the head,” because she was so thoughtful.
She spoke of these two things as she ate her share of corncake and sorghum at supper.
“I just wish Santy Claus would bring me just two things out of all the millions of things he’s got in his sleigh,” she sighed.
“What’s that, Fannie May?” said her father, who was very fond of his little daughter.
“I wants a great big doll, that can shut its eyes and go to sleep when I rock it and say ‘mamma’ when you squeeze it; and then I wants a great big cradle bed, to put it to sleep in. Me and Prudie Ann and May Bell saw one [in] the store when we took the white folk’s clothes home. Oh, pappy, it was just beautiful. If I had a big doll and bed, I wouldn’t want another thing. All the other children get something to play with but me. I ain’t got no little brother and sister, nor nothing ’tall.”
Fannie May’s father’s face grew long. “Don’t look for nothing this Christmas, cause I done heard tell Santa Claus wouldn’t be able to get around to our place at all, cause times is so hard.”
Fannie May’s bright eyes filled with tears. “An I ain’t going to get nothin ’tall,” she said. “How come he ain’t coming here this Christmas? He never missed before?”
“Times too hard and mamma’s sick.”
“I would got something off the Sunday-school Christmas tree, but I done missed fo’ Sundays staying with mamma, and when you done missed fo’ Sundays, Prudie Ann and May Bell both say you don’t get nothin’ off the Christmas tree,” and overwhelmed by the tragic turn of affairs Fannie May wept aloud.
Fannie May’s mother, who was in bed, roused right up. She always did, if there was anything the matter with Fannie May. Mothers are like that, you know.
“Stop crying! Mother’s child,” she said. “Indeed, you will have something for Christmas, soon as I feel the least bit better; I’ll begin right away making some new Christmas clothes for Ella Virginia.”
Fannie May’s most cherished possession was a big rag doll, made by her mother out of flour sacking and stuffed with bran from a neighboring lumber yard. Her face was outlined with bluing and on her head was real hair, cut from Fannie May’s mother’s head. Ella Virginia had been Fannie May’s pride since she was five. She shared all of her games of play-house and was hugged close to her bosom when Fannie May went to sleep, but constant wear with an active little mistress like Fannie May had reduced Ella Virginia to a mere wreck of her former self. She had leaky arms and legs. Her face was so soiled that it was hard to discover where [her] eyes had been, and even Fannie May’s loving heart ached at the sorry appearance of Ella Virginia beside the china dolls owned by Prudie Ann and May Bell.
The last time the trio had a sewing bee for their doll children, over in Prudie Ann’s back yard, Fannie May’s friends had so openly poked fun at Ella Virginia that the little mother had arisen in righteous wrath and hied herself homeward—her eyes filled with angry tears—but the sad fact remained unchanged—Ella Virginia’s best days were past. She could still be loved and played with alone at home—but out, never! Still it would not be fair to Ella Virginia to refuse new clothes for her. Her mother could make such a cunning little jacket and such pretty dresses for Ella Virginia, and she worked real button holes in her clothes, and Fannie May could button them just as she did her own clothing.
She assented tearfully and went about her dishes as cheerfully as she could, but her little heart was sad, oh so sad, because she of all the little girls in her street would have no visit from Santa Claus at Sunday school or at home.
When Fannie May’s last dish was washed and placed upon the cupboard shelves and she had read a chapter in the New Testament, with her father she sat in her own little red rocker that her father’s kind dark hands had made for her on her last birthday, and looked in the big fire place and imagined how wonderful it would be if on Christmas Eve she could hang her stocking up, just as she did last Christmas, and wake up and find it all crammed to the toe with good things—candy and nuts and a big yellow orange from far-away Florida or California, and a big doll and a sure-enough cradle-bed, big enough to put her to sleep in, and—but the little eyes had closed, for the Sandman had managed to throw a good, big handful of sand in them, I suppose, and Fannie May trembled out of the little red rocker to the floor and her father picked her
up and kissed her and put her to bed.
When he was through, Fannie May’s mother was crying, for she had been watching Fannie May, and she knew what she was thinking about, for she knew what she thought about at Christmas time when she was like Fannie May and she knew that it breaks a child’s heart when she is told to expect nothing for Christmas.
“Billie Boy, Fannie May’s so little. She don’t know anything about hard times. She must have a Christmas. Oh, and here I am sick and can’t get out to work.
“Why, look here! It isn’t fair for a poor man like me to have two babies on his hands at once,” [said Fannie’s father,] with an awkward pat on his sick wife’s head. “But don’t worry; she shall have some Christmas if I have to set up every night for a month. I’m going to make her a doll cradle-bed, big enough for a sure-enough baby, just as she is fretting about. I’ve got some nice pine that will be just the thing and you can make the mattress between grunts,” he added with a mischievous smile.
A Treasury of African American Christmas Stories Page 4
