David Michael Newstead | The Philosophy of Shaving
My most random hobby is finding things in old books. Usually these are notes or bookmarks or little glimpses into the lives of the book’s previous owners. And as thought provoking as some of my past discoveries have been, nothing can compare to what I found this weekend. On Sunday, I was casually looking through an outdoor discount bin in DC when I picked up Outlines of European History Part I by James Henry Breasted and James Harvey Robinson. This is a really beautiful book on western civilization from 1914 and the interior is basically an intact personal time capsule about one young black woman who attended college in the 1920s.
Elizabeth went to St. Augustine’s School in Raleigh, North Carolina, a private historically black Christian college that still exists today. She was from Chapel Hill and scattered throughout the book are her notes from history class written in the margins, a sheet of her math homework, various names and addresses of her friends, a postcard, a letter from her parents, and an envelope filled with photographs of St. Augustine’s students. A few pages are stained from the notebook paper that’s been wedged between them for a century. Sometimes, Elizabeth’s notes are written sideways or upside down, demonstrating that her history book doubled as a journal, notepad, or personal organizer whenever necessary.
The book itself has great illustrations and covers a wider scope than the title might imply including Egypt, Babylon, Ancient Greece, Persia, cultural centers across Europe, and various religions as well with an impressive rendering of Mecca. On the back of one glossy page, Elizabeth wrote down some of her thoughts on life or perhaps notes from an inspirational lecture or sermon. It reads:
1. Life is what you make it 2. Climb through the rocks be rugged 3. Am I my brothers keeper? 4. Opportunity 5. Universal Peace 6. Lifting as we climb 7. He can who thinks he can 8. Capital Punishment 9. The Road to success is lush 10. Excelsior
Elsewhere in the book, there’s a folded piece of paper that was probably an inside joke passed to her during class:
Smiles, you stop making that noise.
All but one of the photographs inside were processed at Siddell Studio in Raleigh. There are faded pictures of four boys in St. Augustine’s apparel. Two are sitting on a stone wall. And three of them are posing by a tractor. One boy appears twice. Were any of these gentlemen Elizabeth’s boyfriend? It’s hard to say. The last photo is smaller than the others and has been cut or torn from another location. It shows a pretty and smiling young woman who I believe is Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s parents wrote to her on Monday night March 31, 1924 in a letter that’s postmarked April 1 at 7:30 am. The stationary was purchased at R.W. Foister Stationary and Kodak in Chapel Hill. Neither of her parents had above a sixth grade education and they were writing to their daughter in college. Below I include excerpts from the letter that stood out to me for social and historical significance, but I’ve omitted people’s last names. Her mother wrote:
My Dear Daughter,
Your letter received found us up and on the job as we will; but always tired, we were beginning to feel a little uneasy thinking you were sick. Glad you are well and trust you will continue. I didn’t think the vaccination would take since your arm was so bad last year. The measles, mumps, and whooping cough is raging around here. Old Roderick is running the extractors at the laundry. I don’t know how long he will stay. I guess Ed has gone to Baltimore he has gone somewhere… …
You say you weigh 125 lbs. The next news you know you will be a big “fat woman” crowding your drawers, ha! ha! You had better look out.
Elizabeth’s father wrote his own separate page to her after receiving some teasing from his wife:
The O.C.T. school closes about May the 15. Your brother is doing very well, but plenty room for improvement. The Pythians had a parade yesterday and I saw Mrs. Mittie at church, but forgot to tell her you dreamed about her. I have seen Fannie and Foy and told both of them what you said. Old Foy just cackled. I haven’t seen Ragalee since I heard from you. The days are growing longer and the nights shorter and it is beginning to get warm. I am tired and getting sleepy too now so I will say good night. Be good. Take care. Papa.
Note: O.C.T. school refers to the Orange County Training School in Chapel Hill, a public school for African Americans that focused on vocational training.
Note: The Pythians refers to the Knights of Pythias, a fraternal organization with a presence in North Carolina during the Golden Age of Fraternalism in the 1920s with separate black and white branches.
Then, her mother returned at the end to close out the letter:
Cousin Eugenia and her Spark sends love, also Mrs. Eliza, Old Flossie, Viola, and several others…
With love and best wishes, Lovingly Mother
There was a gap of a several hours between when I first poured through the contents of this book and when I finally got home and was able to research things more extensively. In between, I found myself wondering about Elizabeth and what kind of life she led in the ensuing years. I imagined all kinds of possibilities. And even though I didn’t realistically expect her to still be alive, what I learned later that night changed my whole impression of this artifact.
The information contained in this book stops at the end of March 1924. Elizabeth’s younger brother died from meningitis at age 16 in the middle of April that year about two weeks after the letter was sent. Not long after that, Elizabeth passed away at 20-years-old in February 1926 of tuberculosis. I admit I was taken aback by this and it shattered whatever expectations I had although maybe it shouldn’t have. Elizabeth’s mother talked about viruses ravaging the community. And local newspapers at the time called it an epidemic.
I had to reflect on all this and what it meant. Honestly, I’m still doing that. Elizabeth’s parents lived for another 20 and 30 years with her mother spending her last decade on Earth alone, the last member of her immediate family. That poor woman. I understand it’s not particularly relevant to this, but my father died of meningitis. That was sudden and horrific in the 1990s. How much worse would it have been in the 1920s for a southern black family? The papers only hint at the scale with several death notices throughout the year of her brother’s passing. And I strongly suspect that none of those notices were for black people, which would obscure the true toll of the outbreak. In contrast, tuberculosis is a slower, more heart wrenching killer. Elizabeth’s illness referred to in the letter might have been the earliest symptoms.
Everything else I have to say is really just speculation. I went back and searched for some of the other names that were mentioned, hoping to find an identifiable relative who would maybe want the book and the letters. The larger mystery though is the story of the book itself. Who would have kept it for so long with all these things in it? And then how did it end up at a used bookstore? My only real theory relates back to that envelope full of photographs. Instead of Elizabeth’s address on the back of the envelope, it was for someone named Warren from Chapel Hill. Was he one of the boys in the picture? And if so, did he save Elizabeth’s history book after she died? I don’t have an answer. All I know is this collection of things stayed loosely bundled together for a hundred years. And any answer I consider about someone who knew and loved Elizabeth for the rest of their lives still couldn’t account for more recent decades. The likeliest possibility is that sentimental items get saved, then end up in a box in basements or attics. Eventually, it’s all too much and whoever is left to go through a lifetime’s worth of stuff just donates it all, because everyone who knew what it was is gone.
In spite of that all too common phenomenon, not everything is lost. Pieces of our lives endure just as Elizabeth’s life endured. She was from Chapel Hill, North Carolina. She went to St. Augustine’s. She was studious and happy and someone somehow held onto her memory for as long as they possibly could.
Philosophy of Shaving 
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