Annie Fellows
Johnston Scrapbook
Newspaper
"Clippings" 1921
Mom
Beck, Figure In
Series of Books, Dies
Louisville Courier-Journal, May 10, 1921
Rebeccah
Porter, aged negro woman, died yesterday at the home of her son, 634 South
Fifteenth Street. Thousands who never saw her will mourn her death. She was
Mom Beck, beloved counselor and confidant of the "Little Colonel of
Pewee Valley " enshrined in the hearts of boys and girls everywhere by
Mrs. Annie Fellows Johnston, author of the Little Colonel books.
The
negro woman was one of the
best-loved characters in the series. Johnston said she received letters
every week from children, charmed by the youthful heroine, and her friends
inquiring about the reality of the characters. Always they ask about Mom
Beck, she said. Mrs. Johnston said she had been able to assure them that Mom
Beck was real and still alive.
Mom
Beck was a former slave and was owned in pre-war times by the Conways of
Virginia.. She spent most of her life in Pewee Valley. She was part Indian.
"I
shall hate to get the next letter inquiring about her," Mrs. Johnston
said. "It will hurt me to tell the children, who love her in the books
as those who known her love her in real life, that she is dead."
Webmaster's
note: We now know that Mom Beck was buried at Louisville's
Eastern Cemetery which adjoins Cave Hill. (Death certificate). We
have not yet been able to locate her grave.
Character
in Writings
of Mrs. Johnston Dies
Louisville Times, May 10, 1921
Mom
Beck, counselor and confidant of the Little Colonel, the heroine, of Mrs.
Annie Fellows Johnston's series of books, is no more. Rebeccah Porter, the
aged negro woman on whom the character in the stories was based, died
yesterday at the home of her son, 634 South Fifteenth Street.
Her death will be
regretted by thousands who never saw her personally. In the letters
constantly received by Mrs. Johnston from youthful readers inquiring whether
the characters in her books were real, questions about Mom Beck always were
included. She spent most of her. life in Pewee Valley the scene of the
Little Colonel books, but in pre-war times was a slave owned by the Conways
of Virginia.
New York Times, July 10, 1921
ANNIE
FELLOWS JOHNSTON, one of the most successful among contemporary writers for young
people, gives the following from her experiences regarding reading for girls:
For
over twenty years I have been receiving letters from the girls of America,
and because of these intimate, self-revealing little confessions, I have tried
to put into my books a certain point of view --- and that is a normal outlook on
school-girl love affairs. It was because of these letters that I gave the
Little Colonel her "silver yardstick," and wrote the allegory of
the "Three Weavers." But I found that the later books of the series
were being barred from the shelves of some libraries, such as Pittsburgh and
Boston, be cause there was too much "heart interest " in them for
young girls.
Several
years ago, when the American Library Association had met in Louisville, I was
asked to speak at an "authors' evening," and I took up the question
with them, asking "just how far into the pages of youthful literature
shall Prince Charming be allowed to step?"
I
said. "You admit him unreservedly to the youngest children through the
door of fairy tales. You let him ride, a knight in armor, in all the glamour
of his plumes and trappings through the legends of King Arthur's Court. He is
even brought into the story hour, thinly veiled in mythology, but plainly
responsible for most of the adventures of the gods and goddesses. But when it
comes to present-day juvenile fiction, some of you shut the door in his face.
Others restrict him to the last chapter of a story, just as the curtain
falls, and then only as the attendant of one of the older characters. He is
allowed only a family interest in the young heroine, such as an uncle or a
guardian might have. Now I contend that a girl's book of fiction should help
her meet the problems that she is encountering right now in her school days,
and my letters have shown me that the question of Prince Charming is one of the
most vital she has. If she meets him only in fairy tales and legends and
mythology and grown-up literature, she doesn't recognize him, when as an awkward boy
he slips an
apple into her desk or a note into her arithmetic. As a rule she
either scorns him as one
falling below the ideal these tales give her, or she takes him far too seriously
and invests him with the halo borrowed from her dream heroes.
If there
is ever a time when she
needs some standard measurement
it is in this early intense stage
when she has absolutely no sense of
humor as applied to herself, and
only vague ideas of value and proportion. There are two things always to be considered in the psychology of
girlhood. One is that
long before she is supposed to be
personally interested in such things
she is weaving the web of her
maiden fancies to make a mantle
for someone whom she calls "prince," although he may be only
the little boy with the apple. And for this weaving she seeks material as instinctively as the silk worm
seeks the leaf on which it feeds.
She will find something, no matter
how you circumvent her. If it is denied her in her own books she will
get it surreptitiously elsewhere.
Isn't it better, then, frankly --- the
mulberry bough suitable to her
years, than what she may come upon groping eagerly through current fiction?
Louisville Post, July 11, 1921
From
The New York Times; Jul 10, we quote Mrs. Annie Fellow Johnston's views on
books for girls, so
memorably stated a few yeas ago:
Several
years ago, when the American Library Association had met in Louisville, I was
asked to speak at an " authors' evening," and I took up the question
with them, asking "just how far into the pages of youthful literature
shall Prince Charming be allowed to step?"
I
said. "You admit him unreservedly to the youngest children through the
door of fairy tales. You let him ride, a knight in armor, in all the glamour
of his plumes and trappings through the legends of King Arthur's Court. He is
even brought into the story hour, thinly veiled in mythology, but plainly
responsible for most of the adventures of the gods and goddesses. But when it
comes to present-day juvenile fiction, some of you shut the door in his face.
Others restrict him to the last chapter of a story, just as the curtain
falls, and then only as the attendant of one of the older characters. He is
allowed only a family interest in the young heroine, such as an uncle or a
guardian might have. Now I contend that a girl's book
of fiction should help
her meet the problems that she is encountering right now in her school days,
and my letters have shown me that the question of Prince Charming is one of the
most vital she has. If she meets him only in fairy tales and legends and
mythology and grown-up literature, she doesn't recognize him, when as an awkward boy
he slips an
apple into her desk or a note into her arithmetic. As a rule she
either scorns him as one
falling below the ideal these tales give her, or she takes him far too seriously
and invests him with the halo borrowed from her dream heroes.
If there
is ever a time when she
needs some standard measurement
it is in this early intense stage
when she has absolutely no sense of
humor as applied to herself, and
only vague ideas of value and proportion. There are two things al
ways to be considered in the psychology of
girlhood. One is that
long before she is supposed to be
personally interested in such things
she is weaving the web of her
maiden fancies to make a mantle
for some one whom she calls "prince," although he may be only
the little boy with the apple. And for this weaving she seeks material as instinctively as the silk worm
seeks the leaf on which it feeds.
She will find something, no matter
how you circumvent her. If it is denied her in her own books she will
get it surreptitiously elsewhere.
Isn't it better, then, frankly --- the
mulberry bough suitable to her
years, than what she may come upon groping eagerly through current fiction?
Louisville Post, July 20, 1921
Faithful
readers of "The Little Colonel" series will regret to hear that the
original of Mom Beck, counselor of the "Little Colonel," is dead.
The many letters which Mrs. Annie Fellows Johnston was constantly receiving
from her young readers always asked if Mom Beck were "real." She was
--- her
"real name" being Rebeccah Porter. So important a figure
in literature has she become, Mrs. Johnston's publishers, L. C. Page
& Co., Boston, are sending out news of her lamented demise and a few
biographical notes. A pre-war slave, owned by the Conways of Virginia, she
has long been a resident Pewee
Valley, scene of the "Little Colonel" series.
<1920
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