THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, Februaray 12, 1995 TAG: 9502090411
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J3 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: GEORGE TUCKER
LENGTH: Medium: 83 lines
Although he lacked the political charisma of later black leaders, Virginia-born Dr. Robert Russa Moton (1867-1940) significantly advanced the cause of African Americans of his time.
Born in Amelia County, Moton came from a family that included a former powerful African native chief among its antecedents.
Around 1745, one of Moton's grandfathers five times removed led his followers against a rival tribe. Victorious, he rounded up the survivors and sold them to an American slave trader.
Realizing that Moton's physically splendid ancestor would bring a high price, the trader induced him to board his vessel. Little suspecting that his food and drink would be drugged, Moton's forebear accepted the invitation.
The next morning, he found himself ironically chained with his former captives. Later, he was sold in Richmond to an Amelia County tobacco planter. When he died he left a legacy of fierce pride and betrayal to his descendants.
With this in mind, young Robert Moton determined to make a name for himself. In 1885, he enrolled at Hampton Institute from which he graduated in 1890. A born leader, he was named the commandant of the male students' cadet corps, gaining the designation of ``Major Moton,'' a nickname he held henceforth.
Meanwhile, he had attracted the attention of Booker T. Washington, whose educational ideals he shared.
Moton traveled extensively with Washington over the next decade, establishing lifelong friendships with educators, politicians, businessmen and students from all over the world.
Among these was President Theodore Roosevelt, who called Moton ``a very powerful and at the same time an engaging and attractive personality.''
When Washington died in 1915, Moton succeeded him as head of Tuskegee Institute. While Washington's emphasis was on vocational education, Moton led Tuskegee to begin offering bachelors degrees in 1920.
In the meantime, he had gained national attention by refusing to staff a Tuskegee Veterans Hospital, built on the institute's grounds, with all-white professional staff. Angry Ku Klux Klan members staged protests marches throughout Alabama with threats of violence if Moton did not back down. But Moton stood by his guns. Liberal newspapers nationwide supported him and the forces of ignorance and bigotry had to back down.
As a recognized African-American leader, Moton followed in Booker T. Washington's footsteps by becoming an unofficial advisor to the federal government. He became a consultant of Presidents Wilson, Harding, Coolidge and Hoover.
After a lifetime devoted to the betterment of African Americans, Moton retired from Tuskegee in 1935. He moved to Capahosic, Va., to enjoy his favorite pastime of fishing on the York River. Five years later, he died and was buried at Hampton Institute, now Hampton University.
The following reminiscence of Winthrop Rockefeller, a son of the man who made Colonial Williamsburg possible, is characteristic of those about Moton. Early in the present century, Rockefeller and his parents visited Hampton Institute, where he was introduced to Moton. He recalled the meeting:
``The Dean of Men at the school was Major Moton, a wonderful, elderly Negro gentleman of tremendous stature physically, with a spirit as great as his body. They told a moving story about him that happened on one of his trips to New York - a story that helps me to explain the very real influence he had upon the students in the school and, possibly, on me as well.
``On this occasion, as he was about to cross a street he saw a little girl dart out, trip and fall in the path of a streetcar. The car couldn't possibly stop in time to avoid running over the child - but Major Moton leaped forward, caught the girl up in his arms, and saved her life, at a very real risk to his own. A policeman on the corner asked Major Moton if he might have his name to report his courageous act. But Major Moton, with the humility that was so characteristic of him, smiled and told the officer that the name was not important.
`` `Just record it as `a Negro,' he said.
``Fortunately, someone in the passing crowd recognized him and heard the answer. The story impressed me as a boy and in later years the memory of his simple, sincere and modest attitude helped me to a deeper understanding of the rewards we may find in relations with men and women of different race and color.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Dr. Robert Russa Moton
by CNB