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The interval between the winning of
Idaho and Utah in 1896 and that of Washington in 1910 seemed
very long to lovers of the Cause. We were working as hard as
ever--harder, indeed, for the opposition against us was growing
stronger as our opponents realized what triumphant woman
suffrage would mean to the underworld, the grafters, and the
whited sepulchers in public office. But in 1910 we were cheered
by our Washington victory, followed the next year by the winning
of California. Then, with our splendid banner year of 1912 came
the winning of three states--Arizona, Kansas, and
Oregon--preceded by a campaign so full of vim and interest that
it must have its brief chronicle here. To begin, we conducted in
1912 the largest number of campaigns we had ever undertaken,
working in six states in which constitutional amendments were
pending--Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Oregon, Arizona, and
Kansas. Personally, I began my work in Ohio in August, with the
modest aspiration of speaking in each of the principal towns in
every one of these states. In Michigan I had the invaluable
assistance of Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, of Philadelphia, and I
visited at this time the region of my old home, greatly changed
since the days of my girlhood, and talked to the old friends and
neighbors who had turned out in force to welcome me. They
showed their further interest in the most satisfactory way, by
carrying the amendment in their part of the state.
At least four and five speeches a
day were expected, and as usual we traveled in every sort of
conveyance, from freight-cars to eighty horse-power French
automobiles. In Eau Clair, Wisconsin, I spoke at the races
immediately after the passing of a procession of cattle. At the
end of the procession rode a woman in an ox-cart, to represent
pioneer days. She wore a calico gown and a sunbonnet, and drove
her ox-team with genuine skill; and the last touch to the
picture she made was furnished by the presence of a beautiful
biplane which whirred lightly in the air above her. The obvious
comparison was too good to ignore, so I told my hearers that
their women to-day were still riding in ox-teams while the men
soared in the air, and that women's work in the world's service
could be properly done only when they too were allowed to fly.
In Oregon we were joined by Miss Lucy Anthony. There, at
Pendleton, I spoke during the great "round up,'' holding the
meeting at night on the street, in which thousands of
horsemen--cowboys, Indians, and ranchmen--were riding up and
down, blowing horns, shouting, and singing. It seemed
impossible to interest an audience under such conditions, but
evidently the men liked variety, for when we began to speak they
quieted down and closed around us until we had an audience that
filled the streets in every direction and as far as our voices
could reach. Never have we had more courteous or enthusiastic
listeners than those wild and happy horsemen. Best of all, they
not only cheered our sentiments, but they followed up their
cheers with their votes. I spoke from an automobile, and when I
had finished one of the cowboys rode close to me and asked for
my New York address. "You will hear from me later,'' he said,
when he had made a note of it. In time I received a great linen
banner, on which he had made a superb pen-and-ink sketch of
himself and his horse, and in every corner sketches of scenes in
the different states where women voted, together with drawings
of all the details of cowboy equipment. Over these were drawn
the words:
WOMAN SUFFRAGE--WE ARE ALL
FOR IT.
The banner hangs to-day in the
National Head-quarters.
In California Mr. Edwards presented
me with the money to purchase the diamond in Miss Anthony's flag
pin representing the victory of his state the preceding year;
and in Arizona one of the highlights of the campaign was the
splendid effort of Mrs. Frances Munds, the state president, and
Mrs. Alice Park, of Palo Alto, California, who were carrying on
the work in their headquarters with tremendous courage, and, as
it seemed to me, almost unaided. Mrs. Park's specialty was the
distribution of suffrage literature, which she circulated with
remarkable judgment. The Governor of Arizona was in favor of
our Cause, but there were so few active workers available that
to me, at least, the winning of the state was a happy surprise.
In Kansas we stole some of the
prestige of Champ Clark, who was making political speeches in
the same region. At one station a brass-band and a great
gathering were waiting for Mr. Clark's train just as our train
drew in; so the local suffragists persuaded the band to play for
us, too, and I made a speech to the inspiring accompaniment of
"Hail to the Chief.'' The passengers on our train were greatly
impressed, thinking it was all for us; the crowd at the station
were glad to be amused until the great man came, and I was glad
of the opportunity to talk to so many representative men--so we
were all happy. In the Soldiers' Home at Leavenworth I told the
old men of the days when my father and brothers left us in the
wilderness, and my mother and I cared for the home while they
fought at the front--and I have always believed that much of the
large vote we received at Leavenworth was cast by those old
soldiers.
No one who knows the conditions
doubts that we really won Michigan that year as well as the
three other states, but strange things were done in the count.
For example, in one precinct in Detroit forty more votes were
counted against our amendment than there were voters in the
district. In other districts there were seven or eight more
votes than voters. Under these conditions it is not surprising
that, after the vigorous recounting following the first
wide-spread reports of our success, Michigan was declared lost
to us.
The campaign of 1914, in which we
won Montana and Nevada, deserves special mention here. I must
express also my regret that as this book will be on the presses
before the campaign of 1915 is ended, I cannot include in these
reminiscences the results of our work in New York and other
states. As a beginning of the 1914 campaign I spent a day in
Chicago, on the way to South Dakota, to take my part in a
moving-picture suffrage play. It was my first experience as an
actress, and I found it a taxing one. As a modest beginning I
was ordered to make a speech in thirty-three seconds--something
of a task, as my usual time allowance for a speech is one hour.
The manager assured me, however, that a speech of thirty-three
seconds made twenty-seven feet of film--enough, he
thought, to convert even a lieutenant-governor!
The Dakota campaigns, as usual,
resolved themselves largely into feats of physical endurance, in
which I was inspired by the fine example of the state
presidents--Mrs. John Pyle of South Dakota and Mrs. Clara V.
Darrow of North Dakota. Every day we made speeches from the
rear platform of the trains on which we were
traveling--sometimes only two or three, sometimes half a dozen.
One day I rode one hundred miles in an automobile and spoke in
five different towns. Another day I had to make a journey in a
freight-car. It was, with a few exceptions, the roughest
traveling I had yet known, and it took me six hours to reach my
destination.
While I was gathering up hair-pins
and pulling myself together to leave the car at the end of the
ride I asked the conductor how far we had traveled.
"Forty miles,'' said he, tersely.
"That means forty miles AHEAD,'' I
murmured.
"How far up and down?''
"Oh, a hundred miles up and down,''
grinned the conductor, and the exchange of persiflage cheered us
both.
Though we did not win, I have very
pleasant memories of North Dakota, for Mrs. Darrow accompanied
me during the entire campaign, and took every burden from my
shoulders so efficiently that I had nothing to do but make
speeches.
In Montana our most interesting day
was that of the State Fair, which ended with a suffrage parade
that I was invited to lead. On this occasion the suffragists
wished me to wear my cap and gown and my doctor's hood, but as I
had not brought those garments with me, we borrowed and I
proudly wore the cap and gown of the Unitarian minister. It was
a small but really beautiful parade, and all the costumes for it
were designed by the state president, Miss Jeannette Rankin, to
whose fine work, by the way, combined with the work of her
friends, the winning of Montana was largely due.
In Butte the big strike was on, and
the town was under martial law. A large banquet was given us
there, and when we drove up to the club-house where this
festivity was to be held we were stopped by two armed guards who
confronted us with stern faces and fixed bayonets. The
situation seemed so absurd that I burst into happy laughter, and
thus deeply offended the earnest young guards who were
grasping the fixed bayonets. This sad memory was wiped out,
however, by the interest of the banquet-- a very delightful
affair, attended by the mayor of Butte and other local
dignitaries.
In Nevada the most interesting
feature of the campaign was the splendid work of the women. In
each of the little towns there was the same spirit of ceaseless
activity and determination. The president of the State
Association, Miss Anne Martin, who was at the head of the
campaign work, accompanied me one Sunday when we drove seventy
miles in a motor and spoke four times, and she was also my
companion in a wonderful journey over the mountains. Miss
Martin was a tireless and worthy leader of the fine workers in
her state.
In Missouri, under the direction of
Mrs. Walter McNabb Miller, and in Nebraska, where Mrs. E. Draper
Smith was managing the campaign, we had some inspiring
meetings. At Lincoln Mrs. William Jennings Bryan introduced me
to the biggest audience of the year, and the programme took on a
special interest from the fact that it included Mrs. Bryan's
debut as a speaker for suffrage. She is a tall and attractive
woman with an extremely pleasant voice, and she made an
admirable speech--clear, terse, and much to the point, putting
herself on record as a strong supporter of the woman-suffrage
movement.
There was also an amusing aftermath
of this occasion, which Secretary Bryan himself confided to me
several months later when I met him in Atlantic City. He
assured me, with the deep sincerity he assumes so well, that for
five nights after my speech in Lincoln his wife had kept him
awake listening to her report of it--and he added, solemnly,
that he now knew it "by heart.''
A less pleasing memory of Nebraska
is that I lost my voice there and my activities were sadly
interrupted. But I was taken to the home of Mr. and Mrs.
Francis A. Brogan, of Omaha, and supplied with a trained nurse,
a throat specialist, and such care and comfort that I really
enjoyed the enforced rest--knowing, too, that the campaign
committee was carrying on our work with great enthusiasm.
In Missouri one of our most
significant meetings was in Bowling Green, the home of Champ
Clark, Speaker of the House. Mrs. Clark gave a reception, made
a speech, and introduced me at the meeting, as Mrs. Bryan had
done in Lincoln. She is one of the brightest memories of my
Missouri experience, for, with few exceptions, she is the most
entertaining woman I have ever met. Subsequently we had an
all-day motor journey together, during which Mrs. Clark rarely
stopped talking and I even more rarely stopped laughing. |
