More than two weeks after she received Uncle Teddy's beautifully tender proposal, Tantie wrote this accusatory note that lacked even a salutation.18 days since I’ve heard from you
Tuesday morning, Jan 20
My better nature rebels at the thot of reminding you that “it is too long between drinks.”
For the first time since Christmas, I am unable to control my tears and this morning with not even car fare I was not able to hold my smile when I was told “no mail for Miss Forrest.”
... As far as you are concerned, your promises are nil. Nevertheless “I love you just the same.”
Your hungry, neglected “wife to be”As it turns out, Robbie, Marie and their infant Sylvia had returned to Charleston and were living on the third floor of the Harleston Funeral Home. All three of them had tuberculosis and occupied an apartment across the hall from Teddy and his brother Moultrie.
Teddy and Moultrie shared custody of Robbie and Marie's four-year-old daughter, Gussie, but it was Uncle Teddy who did all the work. Tantie once said his brother Moultrie was the laziest man she had ever known.
Although Tantie was in the habit of writing to Uncle Teddy daily, he was unable to reciprocate because of family illnesses and work responsibilities. He finally responded to her letters one day after her birthday.Feb. 5, '20
Charleston
My Sweetie,
You may not have heard from others (and you certainly did not from me) that we have been having more than our hands full here for some time. Your last letters but one had a lot of questions which would have taken a long sitting to answer, and with the awful rush of the past three weeks I have not had that time.
Did you know that Marie, Robbie and the baby have been sick in bed together? That it has been impossible to get anyone to help? That I have had to cook for them and keep house and do my work? That we have been head-over-heels in the undertaking line? Even Bob Randall is down with the flu.
I have had a hard time meeting these various duties, but they are now all recovering – Marie is sitting up in her room; the baby and Robbie have both been out for two days. Yesterday we had four new calls – from ten a.m. to 10 p.m.
You must know how I wanted to write you on your birthday but I could not that week nor the past one. I know you must be glad to hear from home, and you ought to know that I appreciate the fact of your isolation but I don’t think you ought to be well nigh hysterical in your every other letter.
You know I have a few nerves also, and an everyday schedule of from 9 a.m. to 1, 2, 3 a.m. is a little matter to put anyone on edge. Of course since I have not told you, you may not have known, but try to fill in a gap and imagine that it is not all a matter of my worthlessness. ...
Please write me a cheerful letter; send me some pictures and tell me how you are getting along.
When you go to the museum again buy a photo of “Salome” by Regnault (pronounced Rain-yo) for me, if you have the price [of entry].
And don’t reckon the extent of my love by the frequency or length or my letters – my heart is yours and all I have to give but don’t persecute me and stab me by continued peevishness. I love you as you are & won’t you try to do the same for me?
... Goodbye for today. Write again soon. ...
With love – the same as ever and a little bit more.
Teddy
Tantie's sister, Marie, wrote Uncle Teddy a letter in the fall of 1918 to let him know how his brother (her husband, Robert Harleston) was faring.
Robbie and Marie had gone "up in the pines" of Asheville, North Carolina, to ease the symptoms of tuberculosis, which they both had. The disease would kill Marie less than two years after she wrote this letter.
Tantie, referred to here as "Lease" (short for Elise), was staying with Robbie and Marie awhile. At some point during the visit, she took this picture of Marie and Gussie, who is referred to here as "Ras," possibly short for Rascal.
Asheville, N.C.
Sept. 7, 1918
Dear Mr. Teddy:
You surprised me quite a few weeks ago very agreeably. Hope that you will be able to say the same thing when you receive this.
I wonder what are you folks doing tonight. Would you be surprised to hear that we have had on coats all day also had to have a fire with the windows [shut] like winter time. Those who had to go out have come in with rosy cheeks. Together with rain I tell you it makes one feel very homesick.
Mr. Bob tried himself again today. He came down a hill then went back up bicycling. We raised so much fuss that he went off to the doctor. He told him to be careful of all strenuous exercise as it might cause a [hernia] -- but that he saw no signs caused from his actions today. If he can swim and ride a bicycle, walk the hills go whenever he wants to, I am of the opinion that he is well enough to come home and do something.
I saw where you asked Lease if he seems well one day and sick the next. Since we have been here he has had about three days, on which I might say he went back. Twice he had fever and once he lost half a pound. Since he lost the pound he has regained it along with a pound more. Now he is 138 ½. Looks fine, eats well, sleeps (over well). Not only me but the doctor remarks how steadily he came along.
Sometimes he coughs, the sound still makes me shudder. It is hollow and sounds very strange. Then I might say he is irratable at times. The least thing just throws him off. I asked him to have the doctor come see me I suppose he will come out in a few days. Will question [the doctor] then about Bob's coming home when I come on the fifteenth. Also about his coughing.
Its raining brickbats now. Lease has gone across the street to a farewell dance. I made the punch, but no dance for me; it's too cold, then I feel a bit tired so will retire instead.
Lease made three quarts of apple butter today, her jelly is cooking now. Her hands turned dark from the apples and when she was sealing the jars of course they were hot and her hands got burned a little. I wish you could have heard her. I was sewing today so she said she could cook the dinner. I waited nicely until she started to make the fire. Then I hollored to her to clean the stove. Believe me she fussed some. A little girl across the way says she is not coming over here any more because lady name Miss Lease hollors after you too much. Some old maid sister I have.
Ras is still terrible. She won’t ever go to bed unless she has her dirty doll baby. Even when she is eating it's right on the table. She goes all over the house running the window shades up. If the bathroom door is left open she goes in and turns the water on in the tub. I will be glad when I get her home every day I will send her in the office. ...
Every body says that I look good. I am ninety one pounds now. Would give any thing if I could reach one hundred. ...
Hope this won’t tire you too much. Remember us to all inquiring friends. Will write later just when to expect us.
Lovingly,
Us Harlestons Ten days had passed with no response from Teddy. In that era, mail was delivered twice and day, and people often wrote each other daily. Marie is hungry for news from Charleston, especially because she has sent Gussie back home to stay with her parents for a month.
Gussie had not contracted tuberculosis, despite the fact that both of her parents had the disease, and their doctor had advised Marie and Robbie not to have any more children because of the threat of infection. He also suggested they allow other relatives to care for Gussie.
Shortly before her second birthday, she would become the permanent ward of her Uncle Teddy, his brother Moultrie.
Asheville, N.C.
Sept. 17, 1918
My dear Mr. Teddy:
Can’t you spare a few moments and answer my letter. Or have you forgotten all about me. Suppose you are satisfied now that you have a house keeper. You don’t have to keep on speaking terms with this one as you don’t need her any more.
Say Mr. Teddy, Lease said you wanted to give Ras something but did not know just what, so I told her to tell you to give her a pair of shoes and two pairs of white socks. Mr. Mout wrote that he has bought her a pair, if his are white then you buy black or if he bought black then you buy white. Her birth day is next week so it can be a birth day present also.
How do you like her? Do you think is still as ugly as she used to be? Tell Capt. he sure can call her "Breeze" now. The back of her head just won’t behave.
I miss her very much. Mae and Bob actually make me ill playing that they are she. Robbie even goes so far as to roll all over the bed saying, "leave me lone, Daddy Bob" or some other little saying of hers.
The doctor came out to see me tonight. Says he sees no reason why Bob won’t get along alright at home, but he must be prudent. He considers him a very childish young man and not at all careful or particular as he should be. Says most folks in his stage are hard to manage, that they do not realize the seriousness of it until it is generally too late. I asked about when would he suggest leaving. He said around the first of the month, the fifteenth preferably. Says he does not advise me leaving him alone as he sees he is a person who requires attention.
It will be awfully hard to stay another month when my mind is all made up for home, but no one realizes more than I just what and how Bob has to be managed. I have to take him his breakfast, and beg him to eat his dinner, then some how I manage to get the milk and eggs down. Every day it’s the same thing.
Am awfully sorry to hear of Mama being sick, especially since Gus is there. It will be just one more to worry her. Sadie wrote that she looked awfully bad.
Tell Mout to go for Gus as often as he can so as to relieve the folks at home. As soon as she gets use to you all, you will find her a pretty good baby as long as she is left alone. Am awfully afraid that a month will have her some rotten.
Has she sung and played the piano for you yet? Please take her one of her dolls. She used to cry for this one she left here every night. It was too dirty then the arms were off. She had a fit one day because I did not have time to fix it.
Say Teddy, take that piece of brown goods in the bottom [drawer] in the front room, the piece Robbie gave me and have Erwin make it up at once for Bob. He says to make it just like this brown suit. Three pieces. You must try it on. His brown suit has two punches in the seat, is beginning to look shabby. The blue is about gone. He is very much in need of the suit so please have it done at once.
Please answer me at an early date. Tell me all about my daughter. ...
Lovingly,
Us
Uncle Teddy had been DuBois' student at Atlanta University, which he attended from 1900 until his graduation in 1904. They remained in contact after Teddy left Atlanta for art school in Boston. He knew DuBois' wife and daughter, and gave the latter a painting as a wedding gift upon her 1928 marriage to poet Countee Cullen. Because money was often tight, Uncle Teddy occasionally gave his artwork as a gift. 121 Calhoun St.
Charleston, S.C.
Mar 2, ’18
My dear Doctor,
I had hoped to have you receive a bookplate (a drawing for which I have mailed separately) in time for the celebration of your fiftieth birthday, but my eyes have been bothering me and I had to give it over. The little thing is done now, and I send it with this one regret – that it will cost you a few pennies to have the plate made. That may be a bad kind of gift to make, especially to an editor, but then you might make the excuse that it is from a student to his friend and teacher.
It may have been better made or designed differently, but I am quite sure that no more fitting device could border the plate than this prophetic sentence “The problem of the Twentieth century is the problem of the color line.”
And now that you are fifty, we are all thanking God that you have not yet lowered your colors nor turned from that straight course that leads through honor to glory. We who know you have preached you and prophesied this very day – which must be somewhat cheering after those painful days of misrepresentation and slander, as you intimated in that charming bit of autobiography in the February Crisis. Please give us something like it again – it sounds like the “Souls of Black Folk” essays.
I am writing Dill to ask of you the honor of your … signature in “The Souls of Black Folk” and “The Negro.” This is my eighth copy of the former, having presented seven copies since 1903 to friends I thought should know you better.
I do not know how many more birthdays to wish you – it might be very embarrassing, but I do know that there will be sad days in Ethiopia when they cease.
Kindest regards to Mrs. DuBois and Miss Yolande.
Loyally yours,
Harleston
"Dill" was Augustus Dill, who graduated from Atlanta University in 1906 and later became editor of the NAACP's Crisis magazine.
Tantie wrote of her brush with racism during a visit to Mount Mitchell, North Carolina, in the summer of 1917. She had been in Asheville for a teacher's conference and was staying with relatives. The "Dr. Proctor" mentioned in this letter was the Rev. Henry Hugh Proctor, who had pastored the First Congregational Church in Atlanta. As a student at Atlanta University, Teddy had attended the church. Rev. Proctor would officiate at Tantie and Uncle Teddy's marriage three years later.
Asheville, N.C.
Aug. 7, 1917
Dear Ted,
Your second letter came this morning, surprising and cheering as nothing else can do.
Am so glad you enjoyed your launch party and sorry I was not there to enjoy "our" island once more with you. Perhaps, someday, we’ll go again together, at least we can hope so. I hardly think a day passes I do not think of our first trip there and all the memorable instances pertaining thereto.
If this weather holds up some, we may have a hike or two to the mountains. Friday a week ago, the Teachers summer school closed and a party was made up for a trip to Mt. Mitchell. A private concern runs the road up the Mt and none but "white" have been allowed. But the R.R. agent said if we were twenty-five in number he could accomodate us. There were nearly fifty of us willing to spend $3.05 to visit "the highest point east of the Rockies" but our money happened to be black, as some of the white people hearing of our party refused to go, which caused the agent to notify us that we could not go that day but could go some day when the white people wouldn’t. This we refused to do, and so we didn’t go up on "the highest point east of the Rockies."
Last week the Sociological Congress met here with several prominent speakers white & colored. I got to go Friday afternoon to hear Dr. Proctor of Atlanta. Mrs. DeMond and her mother & sisters were there. Am enclosing newspaper report of that day & night. It got torn before I had a chance to clip it. You may paste it for me and put it away, after reading it of course.
That same night I went to see "Christus" [an Italian silent film] at the auditorium. Colored people have accommodations in half of balcony. ...
Tantie followed Uncle Teddy to New York, where he had gone to study mortuary science, and she often visited him in the city on weekends. She had found a job at the Howard Colored Orphan Asylum, which had been established in 1866.
According to the website Commack History, "For the Howard Orphanage ... things were not going well by 1917. ... Due to war rations when the winter came there was no more coal to heat the buildings with and the children were sent into the surrounding woodland to cut cordwood for heating the houses. Then some of the hot water heaters broke down. Now forced to sleep around the stoves for warmth some children were told to place their cold hands or feet as close to the stove as possible, but it was too late frost bite was setting in on some and they were taken to hospitals where a few had to have limbs amputated."
Kings Park, L.I.
Jan. 11, 1917
My Dear Edwin,
I am glad you have made your decision and are complying with our father’s wishes. That means of course that you will soon be homeward bound. I wish you God speed.
I sincerely hope your brother [Moultrie] will be spared to reach home once more and that all at home will be there to welcome him. I am sorry to think I will not even but a witness, yet I shall rejoice with you now in the prospect of having him home after so long an absence. Perhaps you may persuade him to stay and help you and Rob with the business.
I am enclosing a letter from home which I am sure you will enjoy. You may keep it until I see you which may be sooner than either of us know. The first part concerns – not you – skip it.
I also received my box. I really did wish for you to enjoy it with me – devilled crabs – chicken – cake (I’m saving you a piece) candy – nuts. Wasnt’ that lovely? Some "Mudder" eh?
I am a little nervous tonight. Started laughing at supper and – well I wasn’t thinking of you just then so you can’t say I had hysterics over you for I did not. I was unduly nervous and felt like crying and so there. But I’m going to bed soon and sleep it off. ...
Perhaps I shall be able to come in the last of Jan. But surely Sat. Feb. 3rd & Sun. Feb. 4th 1917 – if not sooner.
Hope to hear from you before that time. You can imagine what your letters mean to me out here.
Lovingly your own
L.L.
Kings Park, L.I.
Jan. 28, 1917
My Dear Edwin,
Yours received a few days ago. Am sorry & then glad I did not come Friday as I thought but glad when I do come I can stay. I expect to come in next Thurs., if I do I will drop you a card Thurs. A.M.
Am very tired tonight. Have been on the job since 6.30 A.M. It is now 7 P.M. I shall welcome my pillow.
I am very glad of your success. Now home & work. I almost envy you. But I hope I’ll be home with you next Christmas.
Don’t worry about me. I have always "looked out" for myself since I can remember and others quite sometime. [Two lines blacked out.]
Please excuse this; it doesn’t happen often but I’m too weary to start another sheet. That was one of my extravagant thoughts and I just remembered how distasteful they are to you.
Just a few more days and you shall see & love
Your own
L.L.
Monday, Feb. 26, [19]17
My dear "Mr. Harleston",
Did you expect me to answer that note? I have been expecting a letter from you, and even as I write I am listening for the Post man’s whistle.
I hardly know anything that is happening in town, but what you may read of, and what concerns me, is not of such importance to you that I need mention it here.
It seems you had only to get home again to display a bit of meanness in your very first letter. Will you do me the very great kindness to explain why this is? Why do you become so very irritated and annoyed whenever my name is mentioned to you? Any other friend (?) of mine would have been glad to say they had seen me and it is no more than natural. And it has always been a puzzle to me how you can have this feeling, and yet are so very different when with me.
Now then Sir, take this vital question up in your next letter, and explain away all my doubt. Please Ted, write me as soon as you can, a nice long letter; I am anxious to have some word from you.
You did not say a word about the baby.
Lovingly,
LiseThrough his association with W.E.B. DuBois, who had been his professor at Atlanta University, Uncle Teddy became the founding president of the Charleston branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. One of the group's first accomplishments was petitioning the state legislature to change the law forbidding black teachers from working in Charleston's public schools.[Handwritten in the left margin] This is my second letter on the machine. The first was to Mamma.
New York. N.Y.
March 1, [19]17
My dearest Edwin,
Your letter received this morning, found me home, with a very bad neck. I have two boils in my head which have given me some trouble, had to have them lanced. The pressure caused several lumps to form on my neck, which are very painful. I did not go to work two days this week, as the day after the doctor lanced the boils I have had the fever. You know what this means to my pocket, and to my spirits also.
I enjoyed your letter so very, very much; and am sorry you are not able to say the same this morning, when you get my letter. But you will understand, Ted, and forgive me, and write me real soon, won’t you?
... My work has not been as successful as I had hoped and it is only my desire to fulfill my promise to you that keeps me here and to other things too.
But don’t let this bother you. I am sure I shall be alright in a few days.
Have you been to see my mother yet? And what do you think of the baby? I can just see the studio.
Have a little patience, dear, and all will come right soon. ...
Tell Ethel to write me, also my sister. That is very fine about the [NAACP]. You will make a very fine President.
Love to all, and write me soon.
Your own
Lise
P.S. I had to cut my hair so am sending you a curl, if you do not want it give it to Marie. Phone Ethel as soon as you receive this. Have you been to church yet? In the choir?
Love
Lise
During the year she taught in rural South Carolina, Tantie had to contend with cold one-room schoolhouses in the day, bedbugs at night and the ever present loneliness and longing for home.
In the letter below, Tantie mentions a Mr. Pendergrass, reminding Uncle Teddy that she has other potential suitors. It also is the first indication that she and Teddy were contemplating the idea of a studio.Cades, SC
c/o Mr. W.L. Fulmore
January 3, 1916
My Dear Teddy,
This is the first letter this year and it must be a short one as I am sleepy, tired and my eyes hurt considerably.
Arrived O.K. Folks met me and took me home for breakfast. You see my train got in at 8.15 A.M. sooner than I expected which was very fine. The lunch came in good nevertheless. Thought of you while unwrapping it, could hear you say "You’re not going to take this cake?" – see you enjoy it -- but now I think of it – did you eat the pineapple? I don’t remember when you did.
Did not only think of you at that one time, have scarcely thot of else. If I were to write the thot [that] comes to me at this time you know what it would be. You are so exceedingly kind, too kind, so kind that I hardly know wether to come home for the [Roland] Hays-[Will] Lawrence Recital or not. You see dear I am taking advantage of my privilege (being leap-year) and am inviting myself as your guest, and being wholly your guest you know how much trouble and worry the trip will cause you, it is up to you. Say the word – and I’ll be down with bells on.
Gee whiz! but I nearly boo-hooed! If I had started crying you could not have stopped me. Am not far from it now but am determined I will not.
Met Mr. Pendergrass again who asked the privilege of calling on his next trip home. O they do make me tired. Well dear, dearest boy, I must quit. Say "howdy" to "our" Studio. And a kiss for the best boy alive.
Truly your very own
Little Lady
By the summer of 1916, Tantie was back in Charleston working as a seamstress at the Union Millinery & Notion Company. (In the photo above, she is standing to the far right in front of the business, which was located at 469 King Street.) Besides missing Teddy, she probably wanted to come home to be near her sister Marie, who gave birth to her first child -- my mother -- Gussie Louise Harleston, on September 28, 1916.
Uncle Teddy was growing increasingly frustrated. As an art student in Boston, he had been free to visit art museums, galleries libraries and other public spaces. But in Charleston, racial segregation meant he could not set foot in the city's only museum, the Gibbes.
Although he viewed himself as an artist, his primary occupation was as an undertaker at the Harleston Funeral Home, a job he took at the urging of his father. Teddy was deeply unhappy with this line of work, but he had a strong sense of duty, and so not long after Tantie returned to Charleston, Uncle Teddy was headed to New York to enroll in the Renouard School of Embalming.
Monday Oct. 9, 1916
At work
Disappointed? Well, I guess so. It seems such an age. I would not come to the store early but waited until I knew the mail had gone so I could hear the girl say "Yes, a letter from N.Y." Then I would hurry oh! so fast to get here. Please write me tonight! Ted I’m missing you more every day.
Well you see, since you left I have not been attending any affairs, there haven’t been many, but what there have been, I have used "Marie" as an excuse to stay home. Now that that excitement is over I feel foolish telling folks I prefer staying at home. Friday evening there was a small affair for the benefit of St. Marks in "our" Hall and I went down at about 10 O’clock. It kept up until 12 but I went up just before the last dance.
This is the second affair Dr. McGill has asked me to go to and each time I’ve had an excuse but while I went last Friday evening I did not go with him but alone and when he called me to account I simply said I had changed my mind. But you know Ted, none of these men are going to take me places unless they are allowed to call evenings and calling evenings means getting better acquainted, and affectionately so.
There are several reasons why I do not wish to become too closely attached to any of them. Firstly and mainly – none of them appeal to me, secondly For three years I have been using one brand of xxxxx and don’t want any substitute. Thirdly I work too hard days and need to sleep nights. etc. etc. etc.
Wednesday Evening the Owls give a card party & dance. I have accepted Dr. McGill’s invitation to that. Will wear my blue dress – remember it? Will fix my hair "a la Billy Burk." All frizzly around the face. I am pretty that way.
Mr. Scott the artist is in town again for an indefinite stay. Much attached to Carrie. By the way haven’t you written her yet? Shame on you boy! We are great friends. She, Robbie and I were to visit Mr. Scott’s rooms to view his work or at least some of it. I haven’t "met" Mr. Scott yet, but I would surely like to shave his chin.
Bob Morrison just left interupted me two hours. Brought me some ice cream. ...
Strange – the people that we like go miles and miles away. And those we do not like we see most every day. If that man doesn’t let me alone I’ll give him a scrubbing.
Am going to dinner now.
Bye
In 1915, when Elise left Charleston to become a schoolteacher, it was against South Carolina law for blacks to teach in her hometown's public schools, so she had to teach in rural South Carolina.
Her younger sister, Marie, and Teddy Harleston's brother Robbie had married earlier in the year, and Elise was eager to become a bride, too. She was clearly trying to make Teddy jealous in this letter, which she wrote from Fowlers, South Carolina.Fowlers, South Carolina
November 25, 1915
My dear Edwin Augustus,
This is Thanksgiving's Day, and there are lots of things for which I am thankful. You are chieftest among them all. I am thankful to have met you; I am thankful to have had the opportunity of knowing you so well as I do. ...
You asked me not to think hard of you. I never shall. Rest assured on that score. You are a man, and human. I do not see you with a halo about your head; neither do I look upon you as a beast, but somewhere between the two I have placed you, the One Man, the embodiment of men, the Alpha and Omega of my too short life.
I shall learn to ride horseback before I return, perhaps we will take a jaunt or two during the holidays. My lessons begin Monday after work. Ben will teach me. You don't know Ben, but he is as fine a specimen of young American Negro as you will find anywhere. Tall, nearly six feet, broad shouldered, with a nice, kind open countenance and as kindhearted as they come. He is black, with a wide mouth, white teeth set apart, flat nose, large nostrils and soft dark eyes set just the right place. And best of all, a large heart and the best disposition in the world. He is my friend. ...
I had for Thanksgivings Dinner, pork, chicken, turkey, 'possum, coon, squirrel. Do you like 'em?
Ben just called to ask if I want to go to town with him in his road cart -- do I? "Well I reckon!!" Bye.
This is the first known correspondence from Elise Beatrice Forrest, then about 22 years old, to Edwin Augustus Harleston, nicknamed Teddy to distinguish him from his father, Edwin Gailliard Harleston.
"Robbie" is Teddy's brother, Robert Othello Harleston, who was courting Elise's sister, Marie Forrest. Elise (or Tantie, as she was known) met Teddy in 1913, when Robbie asked him to deliver a package to Marie. He had just returned home after spending 13 years studying at Atlanta University and the School of the Museum of Fine Art in Boston.Monday, September 8, 1913
97 Morris St., City
Dear Teddy:
Had hoped to see you 'ere this. Our club meets Tuesday night at Mrs. Beaubian and I would like you to be my guest - if it is convenient and agreeable to you. Should I not hear from you by noon of Tuesday, I will look for you at 9 or 9:30 p.m.
Did Robbie give you my message?
Sincerely,
E.B.F.
(over)
Am pasting pictures tonight after having packed Mamma off for a few days in the country.
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