Christopher Wolfe’s thoughtful essay on Booker T. Washington, leisure, and work stirred some fond memories, from years ago, of making a friend by reading a book.
He was an old black man, and I was an old white man. We were both native Angelenos and had been just about old enough to drive when the Watts riots broke out in 1965. But that was half a century and a lifetime ago, and we hadn’t known one another. Los Angeles is a big place, home to many worlds. Now we were white-haired professors, reading a book together, and we became friends. His name was Kimasi, and he has since gone to a better world.
We were spending a week with a dozen other academics reading Booker T. Washington’s autobiography, Up from Slavery. Washington was born a slave in Franklin County, Virginia, just a few years before the Civil War began. He gained his freedom through Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation and the Union victory in the war. With heroic determination, he got himself an education and went on to found the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute in Alabama, where he remained principal for the rest of his life.












