THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A DOLLAR BILL

Lelia Plummer

“The Autobiography of a Dollar Bill” was published by the Colored American Magazine in December 1904. Little is known about Lelia Plummer. Many of the early black newspapers and periodicals in which she published provided little or no biographical information.

The story is a mixture of allegory and fantasy that briefly describes the journey of “Mr. Dollar Bill.” Written at the beginning of the twentieth century, following the Civil War, the end of Reconstruction, and the historic Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision, which sanctioned segregation, the story proposes a journey akin to the American slave experience, from the feelings of race memory, terror, landlessness, and claustrophobia during the Middle Passage to the severance of relations and relationships with the “ding, click” of the slave trade.

Utilizing Christmas as a vehicle and the dollar bill as a metaphor for the slave, Plummer examines the African American experience. The dollar bill, like the slave, was a commodity that was constantly being traded, thus each goes through a succession of owners and has a myriad of experiences. She explores the elements of bondage, status, self-definition, self-assertion, hope, and survival through “Mr. Dollar Bill,” as he tells his story to a street-smart, homeless urchin named Jackie, who has become the bill’s most recent owner on a cold wintry Christmas Eve. As a benevolent owner, Jackie wants to keep his valuable possession, but circumstances dictate that this is impossible, and he intends to treat himself to “pleasures” on Christmas Day. This valuable property must be passed on to a new owner in order for Jackie to improve his wretched condition.

Perhaps Plummer read and used as a model The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African. In his revealing account of enslavement, Vassa tells of his African heritage, being kidnapped, being sold to slave traders, his experience in the Middle Passage, life on the American plantation, and his acculturation in America. Plummer’s use of “Mr. Dollar Bill,” in the role of a griot, suggests how the oral tradition functioned to acculturate Africans to American slavery and to preserve African heritage among the enslaved. “Mr. Dollar Bill” tells of the experience of being surrounded by “heaps of others just like me”; being placed in a “great big, hollow, cold place”; being “snatched” and “plunged into darkness”; and of conversing with elders who told him of their varied experiences in a bewildering world of uncertainty and confinement. And, like Vassa, “Mr. Dollar Bill” had found his English sea captain in the likes of Jackie.

The Autobiography of a Dollar Bill

It was Christmas Eve. The earth was covered with a white fluffy mantle. The snow gleamed brightly on the branches of the frozen trees, where a few brown little sparrows chirped cheerfully. The houses were covered with snow, and every few minutes might be heard the merry ringing of sleigh bells.

“Hullo” said ragged Jackie. “This is the kind of a Christmas for me; none o’ yur mild dripping Christmases is this, but a good old-timer.” The shivering little urchin addressed replied, that “As for them that has fires, a snowy Christmas [is] all right,” but he was cold. “Anyway,” he concluded, “it ain’t Christmas, it’s only Christmas Eve, and I want to know what you’re going to do when Christmas really comes?”

“Well,” said Jackie, “just now I’m goin’ to sell my papers and earn some stray cash; then I’m goin’ to that little corner of the bridge and cuddle down, and to-morrer, I’ll treat myself with my cash.” So away he trudged, crying “Paper here, sir, DAILY NEWS, and special Christmas numbers!” But few seemed to hear the little one, so intent were all upon their Christmas shopping. But suddenly in crossing the street, Jackie lost his footing and nearly fell under the heels of a dashing pair of horses, which were drawing an elegant equipage up the street. The coachman sprang down and kindly raised the little arab in his arms. “Why youngster, you want to be careful! Are you hurt?” Then the carriage door opened and a kind face looked out upon little Jackie, who was endeavoring to wrest himself from the coachman’s arms.

“Are you hurt, little fellow?” a sweet voice asked. “No um” responded the blushing Jackie. Then seeing his rags, a kind hand drew forth some money from a bag and slipped it into the newsboy’s hand. The coachman took his seat, and in a moment the carriage had passed on.

Jackie gazed upon the money in his dirty little hand, scarcely able to believe his own eyes. Yes, in that brown little palm lay a clear, crisp one dollar bill. Jackie hugged himself with delight, and clasping his dollar closely, danced off to resume his efforts to sell his papers. But people did not bother with Jackie any more that day, and when night came he had not sold one paper. Nevertheless his heart felt very light and he was happy. Many, many times during the day he had stolen a glance at the crisp little bill; and now when the bright and beautiful lights began to appear in the city street, he rushed off to his little niche in the bridge where he was pleased to curl himself up for the night. “This here’s better’n them old homes where you’r all tucked and cuddled like a girl” he used to say to his young companions. There he cuddled down, still hugging closely his precious dollar bill and thinking of the pleasures it would bring him Christmas day. Suddenly, to his surprise, he heard a squeaking little voice call “Jackie, say Jackie!” Jackie rubbed his eyes and looked around. He saw no one. Suddenly it came again, and this time Jackie did not look for it, but said, “All right, here I am; what do you want anyway?”

“See here, Jackie,” the voice continued, “I’m Mr. Dollar Bill and I want to tell you all about me. But hug me up nice and tight, for night is cold.” Jackie tightened his clutch upon the precious bill. “Now, I first sprang into this world of wonderful things in a place where I saw heaps of others just like me. Oh my, there were so many of them that my eyes just ached! And there were round little men who were very bright looking but kept very humble before me, for they seemed to know that they were not half so good or valuable as I.

“Then there were some little silvery things, which we called, ‘little dimes,’ and I believe there were more of them than any of us could ever imagine. Well, I stayed in this a good while, until I got really tired; at last somebody far larger and better clothed than you, Jackie, took me and put me in a great big, hollow, cold place. If I had been alone I would not have liked it at all, but there were lots of others just like me, only none of the shining things were there. I asked some of the more important men what it meant and they said ‘Little ones were to be seen and not heard’ and that I must live and learn. But I was not there long, for a great broad hand came and hauled me out. I felt myself being whirled through the air for a few moments, and then I was suddenly plunged into utter darkness. Ah Jackie! That was a black moment for me. I could not tell where I was. For a long while I felt as if I were moving. Then suddenly, I was whisked out again and put into a little, wee box and felt myself scudding along at a terrific rate. I wondered where I was going. I was snatched from there just as suddenly, but before I was again plunged into darkness, I caught a gleam of bright and pretty things and a great moving mass of people. Jackie, where was I?”

“Oh I guess somebody went to do some Christmas shopping as they call it, with you and took you into one of those beautiful stores.”

“Very good” replied the bill complacently. “You’re not a bad little chap for your age, Jackie, not at all. Well, to proceed with my tale, I met there an old friend, Jackie. Yes, my boy, and old friend, for I myself have had so many travels that I am beginning to feel old, though I look so bright and new. The last time I had seen him was when we lay in a great box together. He recognized me instantly and I began to talk to him. ‘Hullo, old fellow?’ I said, ‘Here we are again. Now where have you been?’ Then I noticed that beside him lay a very old and tattered gentleman, at whom I was inclined to turn up my nose, but bless me, Jackie, my friend seemed more inclined to notice the old one than he did me, the bright, the new and pretty. Just then came a ring and a click and my friend was gone.

“Then the old tattered fellow looked at me seriously and soberly for a few minutes, and began, ‘An old fellow like myself, youngster, is really more valuable than a young one, like you. Oh! young ignorance, if you only knew the many and varied tales I could tell! Ha ha! Youngster, you look as if you thought you knew something.’ Then I [blushed] and looked down, for do you know, Jackie, I didn’t just like the way the fellow was talking. But he kept on. ‘Why, green one, I have travelled across rough waters, over green fields. I have been in the homes of the rich, where there were many, many more like myself, and I have been in the homes of the poor, where there were none like myself. Little one, I have been where all was innocence and purity, and likewise where all was crime. Yes I have been snatched from wallets by crime-stained hands and been in the pockets of noted criminals. What phase of life have I not seen? I have been the poor man’s joy, the miser’s hoard, and until I fall in pieces, I shall continue to travel these rounds.’ Ding, click! My acquaintance was gone.

“There were lots of other bills there, who, I do not doubt, were worthy of my notice, but really, Jackie, that last wonderful fellow had scarcely gone, when rude hands snatched me, sped me through space, and once more consigned me to gloom. But I did not mind the darkness so much this time, for I reflected upon the old one’s story and hoped that I might live to be the ragged, worn old fellow he was. You see so much more of life, Jackie. While I studied and thought, I could hear sweet voices speaking and suddenly a kindlier and gentler hand gave me into your keeping. Some way or other I took a fancy to you directly. You seemed to treat a fellow as if he had some feeling and you had some consideration for it. I really like you, Jackie, and when Christmas morning comes and I am leaving you, for I suppose I must, do not grieve for I shall always be on the watch for you again.”

“Oh no, you shall never go,” cried Jackie with energy. He gave a start and sprang to his feet. It was early, early in the blessed Christmas morning and already the bells were chiming the birth of the Babe at Bethlehem. How they rang in Jackie’s ears and heart.

“What! Have I been dreaming all this? Not a bit of it! I heard that dollar just as plain as I hear these bells and I know that even if I part with my dear old bill, he’ll be on the lookout for me and someday I’ll have him again.”