Jailed for Freedom

by Doris Stevens



Contents

 Preface

 Part I. Leadership
 Chapter1. A Militant Pioneer—Susan B. Anthony
 Chapter 2. A Militant General—Alice Paul

 Part II. Political Action
 Chapter 1. Women Invade the Capital
 Chapter 2. Women Voters Organize
 Chapter 3. The Last Deputation to President Wilson

 Part III. Militancy
 Chapter 1. Picketing a President
 Chapter 2. The Suffrage War Policy
 Chapter 3. The First Arrests
 Chapter 4. Occoquan Workhouse
 Chapter 5. August Riots
 Chapter 6. Prison Episodes
 Chapter 7. An Administration Protest—Dudley Field Malone Resigns
 Chapter 8. The Administration Yields
 Chapter 9. Political Prisoners
 Chapter 10. The Hunger Strike—A Weapon
 Chapter 11. Administration Terrorism
 Chapter 12. Alice Paul in Prison
 Chapter 13. Administration—Lawlessness Exposed
 Chapter 14. The Administration Outwitted
 Chapter 15. Political Results
 Chapter 16. An Interlude (Seven Months)
 Chapter 17. New Attacks on the President
 Chapter 18. The President Appeals to the Senate Too Late
 Chapter 19. More Pressure
 Chapter 20. The President Sails Away
 Chapter 21. Watchfires of Freedom
 Chapter 22. Burned in Effigy
 Chapter 23. Boston Militants Welcome the President
 Chapter 24. Democratic Congress Ends
 Chapter 25. A Farewell to President Wilson
 Chapter 26. President Wilson Wins the 64th Vote in Paris
 Chapter 27. Republican Congress Passes Amendment
 Appendices




Illustrations


Alice Paul
Mrs. O.H.P. Belmont
Democrats Attempt to Counteract Woman’s Party Campaign
Inez Milholland Boissevain
Scene of Memorial Service-Statuary Hall, the Capitol
Scenes on the Picket Line
Monster Picket—March 4, 1917
Officer Arrests Pickets
Women Put into Police Patrol
Suffragists in Prison Costume
Fellow Prisoners
Sewing Room at Occoquan Workhouse
Riotous Scenes on Picket Line
Dudley Field Malone
Lucy Burns
Mrs. Mary Nolan, Oldest Picket
Miss Matilda Young, Youngest Picket
Forty-One Women Face Jail
Prisoners Released
“Lafayette We Are Here”
Wholesale Arrests
Suffragists March to LaFayette Monument
Torch-Bearer, and Escorts
Some Public Men Who Protested Against Imprisonment of Suffragists
Abandoned Jail
Prisoners on Straw Pallets on Jail Floor
Pickets at Capitol
Senate Pages and Capitol Police Attack Pickets
The Urn Guarded by Miss Berthe Arnold
The Bell Which Tolled the Change of Watch
Watchfire “Legal”
Watchfire Scattered by Police-Dr. Caroline Spencer Rebuilding it
One Hundred Women Hold Public Conflagration
Pickets in Front of Reviewing Stand, Boston
Mrs. Louise Sykes Burning President Wilson’s Speech on Boston Common
Suffrage Prisoners




To
Alice Paul

Through Whose Brilliant and Devoted Leadership the Women of America
Have Been Able to Consummate with Gladness and Gallant Courage Their
Long Struggle for Political Liberty, This Book is Affectionately
Dedicated




PREFACE


This book deals with the intensive campaign of the militant suffragists
of America [1913-1919] to win a solitary thing-the passage by Congress
of the national suffrage amendment enfranchising women. It is the story
of the first organized militant ,political action in America to this
end. The militants differed from the pure propagandists in the woman
suffrage movement chiefly in that they had a clear comprehension of the
forces which prevail in politics. They appreciated the necessity of the
propaganda stage and the beautiful heroism of those who had led in the
pioneer agitation, but they knew that this stage belonged to the past;
these methods were no longer necessary or effective.

For convenience sake I have called Part II “Political Action,” and Part
III “Militancy,” although it will be perceived that the entire campaign
was one of militant political action. The emphasis, however, in Part II
is upon political action, although certainly with a militant mood. In
Part III dramatic acts of protest, such as are now commonly called
militancy, are given emphasis as they acquired a greater importance
during the latter part of the campaign. This does not mean that all
militant deeds were not committed for a specific political purpose.
They were. But militancy is as much a state of mind, an approach to a
task, as it is the commission of deeds of protest. It is the state of
mind of those who is their fiery idealism do not lose sight of the real
springs of human action.

There are two ways in which this story might be told. It might be told
as a tragic and harrowing tale of martyrdom. Or it might be told as a
ruthless enterprise of compelling a hostile administration to subject
women to martyrdom in order to hasten its surrender. The truth is, it
has elements of both ruthlessness and martyrdom. And I have tried to
make them appear in a true proportion. It is my sincere hope that you
will understand and appreciate the martyrdom involved, for it was the
conscious voluntary gift of beautiful, strong and young hearts. But it
was never martyrdom for its own sake. It was martyrdom used for a
practical purpose.

The narrative ends with the passage of the amendment by Congress. The
campaign for ratification, which extended over fourteen months, is a
story in itself. The ratification of the amendment by the 36th and last
state legislature proved as difficult to secure from political leaders
as the 64th and last vote in the United States Senate.

This book contains my interpretations, which are of course arguable.
But it is a true record of events.

DORIS STEVENS.


_New York, August_, 1920.




“I do pray, and that most earnestly and constantly, for some terrific
shock to startle the women o f the nation into a self-respect which
mill compel them to, see the absolute degradation o f their present
position; which will compel them to break their yoke of bondage and
give them faith in themselves; which will make them proclaim their
allegiance to women first . . . . The fact is, women are in chains, and
their servitude is all the more debasing because they do not realize
it. O to compel them to see and feel and to give them the courage and
the conscience to speak and act for their own freedom, though they face
the scorn and contempt of all the world for doing it!”

Susan B. Anthony, 1872.




Part I
Leadership




Chapter 1
A Militant Pioneer—Susan B. Anthony


Susan B. Anthony was the first militant suffragist. She has been so
long proclaimed only as the magnificent pioneer that few realize that
she was the first woman to defy the law for the political liberty of
her sex.

The militant spirit was in her many early protests. Sometimes these
protests were supported by one or two followers; more often they were
solitary protests. Perhaps it is because of their isolation that they
stand out so strong and beautiful in a turbulent time in our history
when all those about her were making compromises.

It was this spirit which impelled her to keep alive the cause of the
enfranchisement of women during the passionate years of the Civil War.
She held to the last possible moment that no national exigency was
great enough to warrant abandonment of woman’s fight for independence.
But one by one her followers deserted her. She was unable to keep even
a tiny handful steadfast to this position. She became finally the only
figure in the nation appealing for the rights of women when the rights
of black men were agitating the public mind. Ardent abolitionist as she
was, she could not tolerate without indignant protest the exclusion of
women in all discussions of emancipation. The suffrage war policy of
Miss Anthony can be compared to that of the militants a half century
later when confronted with the problem of this country’s entrance into
the world war.

The war of the rebellion over and the emancipation of the negro man
written into the constitution, women contended they had a right to vote
under the new fourteenth amendment. Miss Anthony led in this agitation,
urging all women to claim the right to vote under this amendment. In
the national election of 1872 she voted in Rochester, New York, her
home city, was arrested, tried and convicted of the crime of “voting
without having a lawful right to vote.”

I cannot resist giving a brief excerpt from the court records of this
extraordinary case, so reminiscent is it of the cases of the suffrage
pickets tried nearly fifty years later in the courts of the national
capital.

After the prosecuting attorney had presented the government’s case,
Judge Hunt read his opinion, said to have been written before the case
had been heard, and directed the jury to bring in a verdict of guilty.
The jury was dismissed without deliberation and a new trial was
refused. On the following day this scene took place in that New York
court room.

JUDGE HUNT (Ordering the defendant to stand up)-Has the prisoner
anything to say why sentence shall not be pronounced?

Miss ANTHONY—Yes, your Honor, I have many things to say; for in your
ordered verdict of guilty, you have trampled under foot every vital
principle of our government. My natural rights, my civil rights, my
political rights, my judicial rights, are all alike ignored. Robbed of
the fundamental privilege of citizenship, I am degraded from the status
of a citizen to that of a subject; and not only myself individually,
but all my sex are, by your Honor’s verdict doomed to political
subjection under this so-called republican form of government.

JUDGE HUNT—The Court cannot. listen to a rehearsal of argument which
the prisoner’s counsel has already consumed three hours in presenting.

Miss ANTHONY—May it please your Honor, I am not arguing the question,
but simply stating the reasons why sentence cannot in justice be
pronounced against me. Your denial of my citizen’s right to vote, is
the denial of my right of consent as one of the governed, the denial of
my right of representation as one taxed, the denial of my right to a
trial by jury of my peers as an offender against law; therefore, the
denial of my sacred right to life, liberty, property, and——

JUDGE HUNT—The Court cannot allow the prisoner to go on.

Miss ANTHONY—But, your Honor will not deny me this one and only poor
privilege of protest against this highhanded outrage upon my citizen’s
rights. May it please the Court to remember that since the day of my
arrest last November this is the first time that either myself or any
person of my disfranchised class has been allowed a word of defense
before judge or jury

JUDGE HUNT—The prisoner must sit down, the Court cannot allow it.

Miss ANTHONY—Of all my persecutors from the corner grocery politician
who entered the complaint, to the United States marshal, commissioner,
district attorney, district judge, your Honor on the bench, not one is
my peer, but each and all are my political sovereigns . . . . Precisely
as no disfranchised person is entitled to sit upon the jury and no
woman is entitled to the franchise, so none but a regularly admitted
lawyer is allowed to practice in the courts, and no woman can gain
admission to the bar-hence, jury, judge, counsel, all must be of
superior class.

JUDGE HUNT—The Court must insist-the prisoner has been tried according
to the established forms of law.

Miss ANTHONY—Yes, your Honor, but by forms of law, all made by men,
interpreted by men, administered by men, in favor of men and against
women; and hence your Honor’s ordered verdict of guilty, against a
United States citizen for the exercise of the “citizen’s right to
vote,” simply because that citizen was a woman and not a man . . . . As
then the slaves who got their freedom had to take it over or under or
through the unjust forms of the law, precisely so now must women take
it to get their right to a voice in this government; and I have taken
mine, and mean to take it at every opportunity.

JUDGE Hunt—The Court orders the prisoner to sit down. It will not allow
another word.

Miss ANTHONY—When I was brought before your Honor for trial I hoped for
a broad interpretation of the constitution and its recent amendments,
which should declare all United States citizens under its protecting
aegis . . . . But failing to get this justice, failing even to get a
trial by a jury-not of my peers-I ask not leniency at your-hands but
rather the full rigor of the law.

JUDGE HUNT—The Court must insist (here the prisoner sat down). The
prisoner will stand up. (Here Miss Anthony rose again.) The sentence of
the Court is that you pay a fine of $100.00 and the costs of the
prosecution.

Miss ANTHONY—May it please your Honor, I will never pay a dollar of
your unjust penalty . . . . And I shall earnestly and persistently
continue to urge all women to the practical recognition of the old
Revolutionary maxim, “Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God.”

JUDGE HUNT—Madam, the Court will not order you stand committed until
the fine is paid.

Miss Anthony did not pay her fine and was never imprisoned. I believe
the fine stands against her to this day.

On the heels of this sensation came another of those dramatic protests
which until the very end she always combined with political agitation.
The nation was celebrating its first centenary of the signing of the
Declaration of Independence at Independence Square, Philadelphia. After
women had been refused by all in authority a humble half moment in
which to present to the Centennial the Women’s Declaration of Rights,
Miss Anthony insisted on being heard. Immediately after the Declaration
of Independence had been read by a patriot, she led a committee of
women, who with platform tickets had slipped through the military,
straight down the center aisle of the platform to address the chairman,
who pale with fright and powerless to stop the demonstration had to
accept her document. Instantly the platform, graced as it was by
national dignitaries and crowned heads, was astir. The women retired,
distributing to the gasping spectators copies of their Declaration.
Miss Anthony had reminded the nation of the hollowness of its
celebration of an independence that excluded women.

Susan B. Anthony’s aim was the national enfranchisement of women. As
soon as she became convinced that the constitution would have to be
specifically amended to include woman suffrage, she set herself to this
gigantic task. For a quarter of a century she appealed to Congress for
action and to party. conventions for suffrage endorsement. When,
however, she saw that Congress was obdurate, as an able and intensely
practical leader she temporarily directed the main energy of the
suffrage movement to trying to win individual states. With women
holding the balance of political power, she argued, the national
government will be compelled to act. She knew so well the value of
power. She went to the West to get it.

She was a shrewd tactician; with prophetic insight, without compromise.
To those women who would yield to party expediency as advised by men,
or be diverted into support of other measures, she made answer in a
spirited letter to Lucy Stone:

“So long as you and I and all women are political slaves, it ill
becomes us to meddle with the weightier discussions of our’ sovereign
masters. It will be quite time enough for us, with self-respect, to
declare ourselves for or against any party upon the intrinsic merit of
its policy, when men shall recognize us as their political equals . . .
.

“If all the suffragists of all the States could see eye to eye on this
point, and stand shoulder to shoulder against every party and
politician not fully and unequivocally committed to ‘Equal Rights for
Women,’ we should become at once the moral balance of power which could
not fail to compel the party of highest intelligence to proclaim woman
suffrage the chief plank of its platform . . . . Until that good day
comes, I shall continue to invoke the party in power, and each party
struggling to get into power, to pledge itself to the emancipation of
our enslaved half of the people . . . .”

She did not live to see enough states grant suffrage in the West to
form a balance of power with which to carry out this policy. She did
not live to turn this power upon an unwilling Congress. But she stood
to the last, despite this temporary change of program, the great
dramatic protagonist of national freedom for women and its achievement
through rebellion and practical strategy.

With the passing of Miss Anthony and her leadership, the movement in
America went conscientiously on endeavoring to pile up state after
state in the “free column.” Gradually her followers lost sight of her
aggressive attack and her objective-the enfranchisement of women by
Congress. They did not sustain her tactical wisdom. This reform
movement, like all others when stretched over a long period of time,
found itself confined in a narrow circle of routine propaganda. It
lacked the power and initiative to extricate itself. Though it had many
eloquent agitators with devoted followings, it lacked generalship.

The movement also lost Miss Anthony’s militant spirit, her keen
appreciation of the fact that the attention of the nation must be
focussed on minority issues by dramatic acts of protest.

Susan B. Anthony’s fundamental objective, her political attitude toward
attaining it, and her militant spirit were revived in suffrage history
in 1913 when Alice Paul, also of Quaker background, entered the
national field as leader of the new suffrage forces in America.




Chapter 2
A Militant General—Alice Paul


Most people conjure up a menacing picture when a person is called not
only a general, but a militant one. In appearance Alice Paul is
anything but menacing. Quiet, almost mouselike, this frail young
Quakeress sits in silence and baffles you with her contradictions.
Large, soft, gray eyes that strike you with a positive impact make you
feel the indescribable force and power behind them. A mass of soft
brown hair, caught easily at the neck, makes the contour of her head
strong and graceful. Tiny, fragile hands that look more like an X-ray
picture of hands, rest in her lap in Quakerish pose. Her whole
atmosphere when she is not in action is one of strength and quiet
determination. In action she is swift, alert, almost panther-like in
her movements. Dressed always in simple frocks, preferably soft shades
of purple, she conforms to an individual style and taste of her own
rather than to the prevailing vogue.

I am going recklessly on to try to tell what I think about Alice Paul.
It is difficult, for when I begin to put it down on paper, I realize
how little we know about this laconic person, and yet how abundantly we
feel her power, her will and her compelling leadership. In an instant
and vivid reaction, I am either congealed or inspired; exhilarated or
depressed; sometimes even exasperated, but always _moved_. I have seen
her very presence in headquarters change in the twinkling of an eye the
mood of fifty people. It is not through their affections that she moves
them, but through a naked force, a vital force which is indefinable but
of which one simply cannot be unaware. Aiming primarily at the
intellect of an audience or an individual, she almost never fails to
win an emotional allegiance.

I shall never forget my first contact with her. I tell it here as an
illustration of what happened to countless women who came in touch with
her to remain under her leadership to the end. I had come to Washington
to take part in the demonstration on the Senate in July, 1913, en route
to a muchneeded, as I thought, holiday in the Adirondacks.

“Can’t you stay on and help us with a hearing next week?” said Miss
Paul.

“I’m sorry,” said I, “but I have promised to join a party of friends in
the mountains for a summer holiday and . . .”

“Holiday?” said she, looking straight at me. Instantly ashamed at
having mentioned such a legitimate excuse, I murmured something about
not having had one since before entering college.

“But can’t you stay?” she said.

I was lost. I knew I would stay. As a matter of fact, I stayed through
the heat of a Washington summer, returned only long enough at the end
of the summer to close up my work in state suffrage and came back to
join the group at Washington. And it was years before I ever mentioned
a holiday again.

Frequently she achieved her end without even a single word Of retort.
Soon after Miss Paul came to Washington in 1913, ;she went to call on a
suffragist in that city to ask her to donate ;some funds toward the
rent of headquarters in the Capital. The woman sighed. “I thought when
Miss Anthony died,” she said, “that all my troubles were at an end. She
used to come to me for money for a federal amendment and I always told
her it was wrong to ask for one, and that besides we would never get
it. But she kept right on coming. Then when she died we didn’t hear any
more about an amendment. And now you come again saying the same things
Miss Anthony said.”

Miss Paul listened, said she was sorry and departed. Very shortly a
check arrived at headquarters to cover a month’s rent.

A model listener, Alice Paul has unlimited capacity for letting the
other person relieve herself of all her objections without contest.
Over and over again I have heard this scene enacted.

“Miss Paul, I have come to tell you that you are all wrong about this
federal amendment business. I don’t believe in it. Suffrage should come
slowly but surely by the states. And although I have been a life-long
suffragist, I just want to tell you not to count on me, for feeling as
I do, I cannot give you any help.”

A silence would follow. Then Miss Paul would say ingenuously, “Have you
a half hour to spare?”

“I guess so,” would come slowly from the protestant. “Why?”

“Won’t you please sit down right here and put the stamps on these
letters? We have to get them in the mail by noon.”

“But I don’t believe …”

“Oh, that’s all right. These letters are going to women probably a lot
of whom feel as you do. But some of them will want to come to the
meeting to hear our side.”

By this time Miss Paul would have brought a chair, and that ended the
argument. The woman would stay and humbly proceed to stick on endless
stamps. Usually she would come back, too, and before many days would be
an ardent worker for the cause against which she thought herself
invincible.

Once the state president of the conservative suffrage forces in Ohio
with whom I had worked the previous year wrote me a letter pointing out
what madness it was to talk of winning the amendment in Congress “this
session,” and adding that “nobody but a fool would ever think of it,
let alone speak of it publicly.” She was wise in politics; we were
nice, eager, young girls, but pretty ignorant—that was the gist of her
remonstrance. My vanity was aroused. Not wishing to be called “mad” or
“foolish” I sat down and answered her in a friendly spirit, with the
sole object of proving that we were wiser than she imagined. I had
never discussed this point with anybody, as I had been in Washington
only a few months and it had never occurred to me that we were not
right to talk of getting the amendment in that particular session. But
I answered my patronizing friend, in effect, that of course we were not
fools, that we knew we would not get the amendment that session, but we
saw no reason for not demanding it at once and taking it when we got
it.

When Miss Paul saw the carbon of that letter she said quietly, pointing
to the part where I had so nobly defended our sagacity, “You must never
say that again and never put it on paper.” Seeing my embarrassment, she
hastened to explain. “You see, we can get it this session if enough
women care sufficiently to demand it now.”

Alice Paul brought back to the fight that note of immediacy which had
gone with the passing of Miss Anthony’s leadership. She called a halt
on further pleading, wheedling, proving, praying. It was as if she had
bidden women stand erect, with confidence in themselves and in their
own judgments, and compelled them to be self-respecting enough to dare
to put their freedom first, and so determine for themselves the day
when they should be free. Those who had a taste of begging under the
old regime and who abandoned it for demanding, know how fine and strong
a thing it is to realize that you must take what is yours and not waste
your energy proving that you are or will some day be worthy of a gift
of power from your masters. On that glad day of discovery you have
first freed yourself to fight for freedom. Alice Paul gave to thousands
of women the essence of freedom.

And there was something so cleansing about the way in which she
renovated ideas and processes, emotions and instincts. Her attack was
so direct, so clear, so simple and unafraid. And her resistance had
such a fine quality of strength.

Sometimes it was a roaring politician who was baffled by this
non-resistant force. I have heard many an irate one come into her
office in the early days to tell her how to run the woman’s campaign,
and struggle in vain to arouse her to combat. Having begun a tirade,
honor would compel him to see it through even without help from a
silent adversary. And so he would get more and more noisy until it
would seem as if one lone shout from him might be enough to blow away
the frail object of his attack. Ultimately he would be forced to
retire, perhaps in the face of a serene smile, beaten and angered that
he had been able to make so little impression. And many the delicious
remark and delightful quip afterward at his expense!

Her gentle humor is of the highest quality. If only her opponents could
have seen her amusement at their hysteria. At the very moment they were
denouncing some plan of action and calling her “fanatical” and
“hysterical” she would fairly beam with delight to see how well her
plan had worked. Her intention had been to arouse them to just that
state of mind, and how admirably they were living up to the plan. The
hysteria was all on their side. She coolly sat back in her chair and
watched their antics under pressure.

“But don’t you know,” would come another thundering one, “that this
will make the Democratic leaders so hostile that . . .”

The looked-for note of surprise never came. She had counted ahead on
all this and knew almost to the last shade the reaction that would
follow from both majority and minority leaders. All this had been
thoroughly gone over, first with herself, then with her colleagues. All
the “alarms” had been rung. The male politician could not understand
why his wellmeaning and generously-offered advice caused not a ripple
and not a change in plan. Such calm unconcern he could not endure. He
was accustomed to emotional panics. He was not accustomed to a leader
who had weighed every objection, every attack and counted the cost
accurately.

Her ability to marshal arguments for keeping her own followers in line
was equally marked. A superficial observer would rush into headquarters
with, “Miss Paul, don’t you think it was a great tactical mistake to
force President Wilson at this time to state his position on the
amendment? Will it not hurt our campaign to have it known that he is
against us?”

“It is the best thing that could possibly happen to us. If he is
against us, women should know it. They will be aroused to greater
action if he is not allowed to remain silent upon something in which he
does not believe. It will make it easier for us to campaign against him
when the time comes.”

And another time a friend of the cause would suggest, “Would it not
have been better not to have tried for planks in party platforms, since
we got such weak ones?”

“Not at all. We can draw the support of women with greater ease from a
party which shows a weak hand on suffrage, than from one which hides
its opposition behind silence.”

She had always to combat the fear of the more timid ones who felt sure
with each new wave of disapproval that we would be submerged. “Now, I
have been a supporter of yours every step of the way,” a “fearful” one
would say, “but this is really going a little too far. I was in the
Senate gallery to-day when two suffrage. senators in speeches denounced
the pickets and their suffrage banners. They said that we were setting
suffrage back and that something ought to be done about it.”

“Exactly so,” would come the ready answer from Miss Paul. “And they
will do something about it only if we continue to make them
uncomfortable enough. Of course even suffrage senators will object to
our pickets and our banners because they do not want attention called
to their failure to compel the Administration to act. They know that as
friends of the measure their responsibility is greater.” And the
“fearful” one was usually convinced and made stronger.

I remember so well when the situation was approaching its final climax
in Washington. Men and women, both, came to Miss Paul with, “This is
terrible! Seven months’ sentence is impossible. You must stop! You
cannot keep this up!”

With an unmistakable note of triumph in her voice Miss Paul would
answer, “Yes, it is terrible for us, but not nearly so terrible as for
the government. The Administration has fired its heaviest gun. From now
on we shall win and they will lose.”

Most of the doubters had by this time banished their fears and had come
to believe with something akin to superstition that she could never be
wrong, so swiftly and surely, did they see her policies and her
predictions on every point vindicated before their eyes.

She has been a master at concentration, a master strategist-a great
general. With passionate beliefs on all important social questions, she
resolutely set herself against being seduced into other paths. Far from
being naturally an ascetic, she has disciplined herself into denials
and deprivations, cultural and recreational, to pursue her objective
with the least possible waste of energy. Not that she did not want
above all else to do this thing. She did. But doing it she had to
abandon the easy life of a scholar and the aristocratic environment of
a cultured, prosperous, Quaker family, of Moorestown, New Jersey, for
the rigors of a ceaseless drudgery and frequent imprisonment. A flaming
idealist, conducting the fight with the sternest kind of realism, a
mind attracted by facts, not fancies, she has led fearlessly and with
magnificent ruthlessness. Thinking, thinking day and night of her
objective and never retarding her pace a moment until its
accomplishment, I know no modern woman leader with whom to compare her.
I think she must possess many of the same qualities that Lenin does,
according to authentic portraits of him-cool, practical, rational,
sitting quietly at a desk and counting the consequences, planning the
next move before the first one is finished. And if she has demanded the
ultimate of her followers, she has given it herself. Her ability to get
women to work and never to let them stop is second only to her own
unprecedented capacity for work.

Alice Paul came to leadership still in her twenties, but with a broad
cultural equipment. Degrees from Swarthmore, the University of
Pennsylvania, and special study abroad in English universities had
given her a scholarly background in history, politics, and sociology.
In these studies she had specialized, writing her doctor’s thesis on
the status of women. She also did factory work in English industries
and there acquired first hand knowledge of the industrial position of
women. In the midst of this work the English militant movement caught
her imagination and she abandoned her studies temporarily to join that
movement and go to prison with the English suffragists.

Convinced that the English women were fighting the battle for the women
of the world, she returned to America fresh from their struggle, to
arouse American women to action. She came bringing her gifts and
concentration to this one struggle. She came with that inestimable
asset, youth, and, born of youth, indomitable courage to carry her
point in spite of scorn and misrepresentation.

Among the thousands of telegrams sent Miss Paul the day the amendment
finally passed Congress was this interesting message from Walter Clark,
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of North Carolina, Southern
Democrat, Confederate Veteran and distinguished jurist:

“Will you permit me to congratulate you upon the great triumph in which
you have been so important a factor? Your place in history is assured.
Some years ago when I first met you I predicted that your name would be
written ‘on the dusty roll the ages keep.’ There were politicians, and
a large degree of public sentiment, which could only be won by the
methods you adopted . . . . It is certain that, but for you, success
would have been delayed for many years to come.”




Part II
Political Action




Chapter 1
Women Invade the Capital


Where are the people?” This was Woodrow Wilson’s first question as he
arrived at the Union Station in Washington the day before his first
inauguration to the Presidency in March, 1913.

“On the Avenue watching the suffragists parade,” came the answer.

The suffrage issue was brought oftenest to his attention from then on
until his final surrender. It lay entirely with him as to how long
women would be obliged to remind him of this issue before he willed to
take a hand.

“The people” were on the Avenue watching the suffragists parade. The
informant was quite right. It seemed to those of us who attempted to
march for our idea that day that the whole world was there—packed
closely on Pennsylvania Avenue.

The purpose of the procession was to dramatize in numbers and beauty
the fact that women wanted to vote—that women were asking the
Administration in power in the national government to speed the day.
What politicians had not been able to get through their minds we would
give them through their eyes—often a powerful substitute. Our first
task seemed simple—actually to show that thousands of women wanted
immediate action on their long delayed enfranchisement. This we did.

This was the first demonstration under the leadership of Alice Paul, at
that time chairman of the Congressional Committee of the National
American Woman. Suffrage Association. It was also the beginning of
Woodrow Wilson’s liberal education.

The Administration, without intending it, played into the hands of the
women from this moment. The women had been given a permit to march.
Inadequate police protection allowed roughs to attack them and all but
break up the beautiful pageant. The fact of ten thousand women marching
with banners and bands for this idea was startling enough to wake up
the government and the country, but not so startling as ten thousand
women man-handled by irresponsible crowds because of police
indifference.

An investigation was demanded and a perfunctory one held. The police
administration was exonerated, but when the storm of protest had
subsided the Chief of Police was quietly retired to private life.

It was no longer a secret that women wanted to vote and that they
wanted the President and Congress to act.

A few days later the first deputation of suffragists ever to appear
before a President to enlist his support for the passage of the
national suffrage amendment waited upon President Wilson.[1] Miss Paul
led the deputation. With her were Mrs. Genevieve Stone, wife of
Congressman Stone of Illinois, Mrs. Harvey W. Wiley, Mrs. Ida Husted
Harper, and Miss Mary Bartlett Dixon of Maryland. The President
received the deputation in the White House Offices. When the women
entered they found five chairs arranged in a row with one chair in
front, like a class- room. All confessed to being frightened when the
President came in and took his seat at the head of the class. The
President said he had no opinion on the subject of woman suffrage; that
he had never given it any thought;[2] and that above all it was his
task to see that Congress concentrated on the currency revision and the
tariff reform. It is recorded that the President was somewhat taken
aback when Miss Paul addressed him during the course of the interview
with this query, “But Mr. President, do you not understand that the
Administration has no right to legislate for currency, tariff, and any
other reform without first getting the consent of women to these
reforms?”

[1] There had been individual visits to previous presidents.


[2] At Colorado Springs in 1911, when Mr. Wilson was Governor of New
Jersey and campaigning for the Presidential nomination, a delegation of
Colorado women asked him his position on woman suffrage. He said,
“Ladies, this is a very arguable question and my mind is in the midst
of the argument.”


“Get the consent of women?” It was evident that this course had not
heretofore occurred to him.

“This subject will receive my most careful consideration,” was
President Wilson’s first suffrage promise.

He was given time to “consider” and a second deputation went to him,
and still a third, asking him to include the suffrage amendment in his
message to the new Congress assembling in extra session the following
month. And still he was obsessed with the paramount considerations of
“tariff” and “currency.” He flatly said there would be no time to
consider suffrage for women. But the “unreasonable” women kept right on
insisting that the liberty of half the American people was paramount to
tariff and currency.

President Wilson’s first session of Congress came together April 7th,
1913. The opening day was marked by the suffragists’ second mass
demonstration. This time women delegates representing every one of the
435 Congressional Districts in the country bore petitions from the
constituencies showing that the people “back home” wanted the amendment
passed. The delegates marched on Congress and were received with a warm
welcome and their petitions presented to Congress. The same day the
amendment which bears the name of Susan B. Anthony, who drafted it in
1875, was reintroduced into both houses of Congress.

The month of May saw monster demonstrations in many cities and villages
throughout the country, with the direct result that in June the Senate
Committee on Suffrage made the first favorable report made by that
committee in twenty-one years, thereby placing it on the Senate
calendar for action.

Not relaxing the pressure for a day we organized the third great
demonstration on the last of July when a monster petition signed by
hundreds of thousands of citizens was brought to the Senate asking that
body to pass the national suffrage amendment. Women from all parts of
the country mobilized in the countryside of Maryland where they were
met with appropriate ceremonies-by the Senate Woman Suffrage Committee.
The delegation motored in gaily decorated automobiles to Washington and
went direct to the Senate, where the entire day was given over to
suffrage discussion.

Twenty-two senators spoke in favor of the amendment in presenting their
petitions. Three spoke against it. For the first time in twenty-six
years suffrage was actually debated in Congress. That day was historic.

Speeches? Yes. Greetings? Yes. Present petitions from their
constituencies? Gladly. Report it from the Senate Committee? They had
to concede that. But passage of the amendment? That was beyond their
contemplation.

More pressure was necessary. We appealed to the women voters, of whom
there were then four million, to come into action.

“Four million women voters are watching you,” we said to Congress. We
might as well have said, “There are in the South Sea Islands four
million heathens.”

It was clear that these distant women voters had no relation in the
senatorial mind to the realism of politics. We decided to bring some of
these women voters to Washington: Having failed to get the Senate to
act by August, we invited the Council of Women Voters to hold its
convention in Washington that Congress might learn this simple lesson:
women did vote; there were four million of them; they had a voters’
organization; they cared about the enfranchisement of all American
women; they wanted the Senate to act; suffrage was no longer a moral
problem; it could be made a practical political problem with which men
and parties would have to reckon.

Voting women made their first impression on Congress that summer.

Meanwhile the President’s “paramount issues”—tariff and currency—had
been disposed of. With the December Congress approaching, he was
preparing another message. We went to him again. This time it was the
women from his own home state, an influential deputation of
seventy-three women, including the suffrage leaders from all suffrage
organizations in New Jersey. The women urged him to include
recommendation of the suffrage resolution in his message to the new
Congress. He replied:

“I am pleased, indeed, to greet you and your adherents here, and I will
say to you that I was talking only yesterday with several members of
Congress in regard to a Suffrage Committee in the House. The subject is
one in which I am deeply interested, and you may rest assured that I
will give it my earnest attention.”

In interesting himself in the formation of a special committee to sit
on suffrage in the House, the President was doing the smallest thing,
to be sure, that could be done, but he was doing something. This was a
distinct advance. It was our task to press on until all the maze of
Congressional machinery had been used to exhaustion. Then there would
be nothing left to do but to pass the amendment.

A fourth time that year the determination of women to secure the
passage of the amendment was demonstrated. In December, the opening
week of the new Congress, the annual convention of the National
American Woman Suffrage Association was held in Washington. Miss Lucy
Burns, vice chairman of its Congressional Committee and also of the
Congressional Union, was applauded to the echo by the whole convention
when she said:

“The National American Woman Suffrage Association is assembled in
Washington to ask the Democratic Party to enfranchise the women of
America.

“Rarely in the history of the country has a party been more powerful
than the Democratic Party is to-day. It controls the Executive Office,
the Senate and more than two-thirds of the members of the House of
Representatives. It is in a position to give us effective and immediate
help.

“We ask the Democrats to take action now. Those who hold power are
responsible to the country for the use of it. They are responsible not
only for what they do, but for what they do not do. Inaction
establishes just as clear a record as does a policy of open hostility.

“We have in our hands to-day not only the weapon of a just cause; we
have the support of ten enfranchised states—states comprising one-fifth
of the United States Senate, one-seventh of the House of
Representatives, and one-sixth of the electoral vote. More than
3,600,000 women have a vote in Presidential elections. It is
unthinkable that a national government which represents women, and
which appeals periodically for the suffrages of women, should ignore
the issue of the right of all women to political freedom.

“We cannot wait until after the passage of scheduled Administration
reforms . . . . Congress is free to take action on our question in the
present session. We ask the Administration to support the woman
suffrage amendment in Congress with its whole strength.”

This represented the attitude of the entire suffrage movement toward
the situation in the winter of 1913. At no time did the militant group
deviate from this position until the amendment was through Congress.

It was difficult to make the Administration believe that the women
meant what they said, and that they meant to use everything in their
power and resourcefulness to see it carried out.

Men were used to having women ask them for suffrage. But they were
disconcerted at being asked for it now; at being threatened with
political chastisement if they did not yield to the demand.

In spite of the repeated requests to President Wilson that he include
support of the measure in his message to Congress, he delivered his
message December end while the convention was still in session, and
failed to make any mention of the suffrage amendment. He recommended
self-government for Filipino men instead.

Immediately Miss Paul organized the entire convention into a fifth
deputation to protest against this failure and to urge support in a
subsequent message. Dr. Anna Howard Shaw led the interview. In reply to
her eloquent appeal for his assistance, the President said in part: “I
am merely the spokesman of my party . . . . I am not at liberty to urge
upon Congress in messages, policies which have not had the organic
consideration of those for whom I am spokesman. I am by my own
principles shut out, in the language of the street, from ‘starting
anything.’ I have to confine myself to those things which have been
embodied as promises to the people at an election.”

I shall never forget that day. Shafts of sunlight came in at the window
and fell full and square upon the white-haired leader who was in the
closing days of her power. Her clear, deep, resonant voice, ringing
with the genuine love of liberty, was in sharp contrast to the halting,
timid, little and technical answer of the President. He stooped to
utter some light pleasantry which he thought would no doubt please the
“ladies.” It did not provoke even a faint smile. Dr. Shaw had
dramatically asked, “Mr. President, if you cannot speak for us and your
party will not, who then, pray, is there to speak for us?”

“You seem very well able to speak for yourselves, ladies,” with a broad
smile, followed by a quick embarrassment when no one stirred.

“We mean, Mr. President, who will speak for us with _authority?_” came
back the hot retort from Dr. Shaw.

The President made no reply. Instead he expressed a desire to shake the
hands of the three hundred delegates. A few felt that manners compelled
them to acquiesce; the others filed out without this little political
ceremony.

Alice Paul’s report to the national convention for her year’s work as
Chairman of the Congressional Committee of the National American Woman
Suffrage Association, and as Chairman also of the Congressional Union
for Woman Suffrage, showed that a budget of twenty-seven thousand
dollars had been raised and expended under her leadership as against
ten dollars spent during the previous year on Congressional work. At
the beginning of the year there was no interest in work with Congress.
It was considered hopeless. At the close of the year 1918 it had become
a practical political issue. Suffrage had entered the national field to
stay.

At this point the Congressional Union for Woman Suffrage was obliged to
become an independent body in order to continue this vigorous policy
which the conservative suffrage leaders were unwilling to follow.

Hearings, deputations to the President, petitions to Congress, more
persistent lobbying, all these things continued during the following
year under Miss Paul’s leadership with the result that a vote in the
Senate was taken, though at ran inopportune moment,—the first vote in
the Senate since 1887. The vote stood 86 to ’84-thereby failing by 11
votes of the necessary two-thirds majority. This vote, nevertheless,
indicated that a new strength in the suffrage battle had forced
Congress to take some action.

In the House, the Rules Committee on a vote of 4 to 4 refused to create
a suffrage committee. We appealed to the Democratic caucus to see if
tie party sustained this action. We wished to establish their party
responsibility, one way or another, and by securing the necessary
signatures to a petition, we compelled the caucus to meet. By a vote of
128 to 57 the caucus declared “ . . . that the question of woman
suffrage is a state and not a federal question,” as a substitute for
the milder resolution offered, providing for the creation of a
committee on woman suffrage. If this had left any doubt as to how the
Democratic Party, as a party, stood, this doubt was conveniently
removed by Representative Underwood, the Majority Leader of the House,
when he said on the floor of the House the following day: “The
Democratic Party last night took the distinctive position that it was
not in favor of this legislation because it was in favor of the states
controlling the question of suffrage . . . . I not only said I was
opposed to it, but I said the Party on this side of the Chamber was
opposed to it, and the Party that has control of the legislation in
Congress certainly has the right to say that it will not support a
measure if it is not in accordance with its principles.”

Meanwhile the President had said to a deputation of workingwomen who
waited upon him in February, “Until the Party, as such, has considered
a matter of this very supreme importance, and taken its position, I am
not at liberty to speak for it; and yet I am not at liberty to speak
for it as an individual, for I am not an individual.”

“But we ask you to speak to your party, not for it,” answered Mrs.
Glendower Evans, Chairman of the deputation, amid evident presidential
embarrassment.

Those women who had been inclined perhaps to accept the President’s
words as true to fact, entertained doubts when a .few days later he
demanded of his party in Congress the repeal of the free tolls
provision in the Panama Canal tolls act. In so doing, he not only
recommended action not endorsed by his party, but he demanded action
which his party had specifically declared against.

It was necessary to appeal again to the nation. We called for
demonstrations. of public approval of the amendment in every state on
May 2. Thousands of resolutions were passed calling for action in
Congress. These resolutions were made the center of another great
demonstration in Washington, May 9, when thousands of women in,
procession carried them to the Capitol where beautiful and impressive
ceremonies were held on the Capitol steps. The resolutions were
formally received by members of Congress and the demonstration ended
dramatically with a great chorus of women massed on the steps singing
“The March of the Women” to the thousands of spectators packed closely
together on the Capitol grounds.

And still the President withheld his support.

Under our auspices five hundred representative club women of the
country waited upon him in another appeal for help.[1] To them he
explained his “passion for local self-government,” which led to his
conviction “that this is a matter for settlement by the states[2] and
not by the federal government . . . .”

Women had to face the fact that the 63rd Congress had made a distinctly
hostile record on suffrage. The President, as leader of his party, had
seven times refused all aid; the Democratic Party had recorded its
opposition through an adverse vote in the Senate and a caucus vote in
the House forbidding even consideration of the measure.

It became clear that some form of political action would have to be
adopted which would act as an accelerator to the Administration. This
feeling was growing momentarily among many women, but it was
conspicuously strong in the mind of Mrs. Oliver H. P. Belmont,
recognized as one of the ablest suffrage leaders in the country.
Anticipating the unfriendly record made by the Democrats in the 63rd
Congress, Mrs. Belmont had come to Miss Paul and to her vice-chairman,
Miss Lucy Burns, to urge the formulation of a plan whereby we could
strike at Administration opposition through the women voters of the
West. Miss Paul had the same idea and welcomed the support of this plan
by so able a leader.

[1] 7th deputation to the President, June 30, 1914.


[2] This amounted to virtual opposition because of the great
difficulties, (some of them almost insuperable) involved in amending
many state constitutions.


Mrs. Belmont was impatient to do nationally what she had already
inaugurated in New York State suffrage work—make suffrage an election
issue. She was the first suffragist in America to be “militant” enough
to wage a campaign against office-seekers on the issue of woman
suffrage. She was roundly denounced by the opposition press, but she
held her ground. It is interesting to record that she defeated the
first candidate for the New York Assembly ever campaigned against on
this issue.

She had associated herself with the Pankhursts in England and was the
first suffrage leader here publicly to commend the tactics of the
English militants. Through her, Mrs. Pankhurst made her first visits to
America, where she found a sympathetic audience. Even among the people
who understood and believed in English tactics, the general idea here
was that only in the backward country of England was “militancy”
necessary. In America, men would give women what women wanted without a
struggle.

Mrs. Belmont was the one suffrage leader who foresaw a militant battle
here whenever women should determine to ask for their freedom
immediately. In a great measure she prepared the way for that battle.

Since the movement had not even advanced to the stage of political
action at that time, however, Mrs. Belmont realized that political
action would have to be exhausted before attempting more aggressive
tactics. Not knowing whether Miss Paul had contemplated inaugurating
political action in the national field, she sought out the new leader
and urged her to begin at, once to organize the women’s power for use
in the approaching national elections.

Those interested in the woman’s movement are fairly familiar with Mrs.
Belmont’s early state suffrage work and her work with the militants in
England, but they do not know as much about her national work. It is
not easy for a woman of vast wealth to be credited with much else in
America than the fact of generosity in giving money to the cause in
which she believes. Wealth dazzles us and we look no further. Mrs.
Belmont has given hundreds of thousands of dollars to suffrage, both
state and national, but she has given greater gifts in her militant
spirit, her political sagacity and a marked tactical sense. She was
practically the only leader formerly associated with the conservative
forces who had the courage to extricate herself from the old routine
propaganda and adventure into new paths. She always approached the
struggle for liberty in a wholesome revolutionary mood. She was
essentially a leader, and one who believed in action-always action.

Until the movement in America regained its militant spirit, her heart
was primarily with the English women, because she thought their fight
so magnificent that it would bring suffrage to women in England sooner
than our slow-going methods would bring it to us. In 1910, when English
militancy was at its height, Mrs. Belmont gave out an interview in
London, in which she predicted that English women would have the
suffrage before us. She even went so far as to say that we in America
would have to create an acute situation here, probably a form of
militancy, before we could win. At the same time the President of the
International Suffrage Alliance said in London: “The suffrage movement
in England- resembles a battle. It is cruel and tragic. Ours in America
is an evolution-less dramatic, slow but more sure.” Facts sustained
Mrs. Belmont’s prophecy. Facts did not sustain the other prediction.
English women got the vote in 1918. American women were not
enfranchised nationally until August, 1920.

The following is the political theory and program approved by Mrs.
Belmont and submitted to the Congressional Union, by its chairman,
Alice Paul, at a conference of the organization at the home of Mrs.
Belmont in Newport in August, 1914:

The dominant party (at that time the Democratic Party) is responsible
for all action and therefore for action on suffrage.

This party’s action had been hostile to this measure.

The dominant party in the approaching election must be convinced, and
through it all other parties, that opposition to suffrage is
inexpedient.

All parties will be convinced when they see that their opposition costs
them votes.

Our fight is a political one.

We must appeal for support to the constituency which is most friendly
to suffrage, that constituency being the voting women.

An attempt must be made, no matter how small, to organize the women’s
vote.

An appeal must be made to the women voters in the nine suffrage states
to withhold their support from the Democrats nationally, until the
national Democratic Party ceases to block the suffrage amendment.

This is non-partisanship in the highest degree, as it calls upon women
to forego previous allegiance to a party. If they are Democrats in this
instance, they must vote against their party. If the Republican Party
were in power and pursued a similar course, we would work against that
party.

The party which sees votes falling away will change its attitude.

After we have once affected by this means the outcome of a national
election, even though slightly, every party will hesitate to trifle
with our measure any longer.

All candidates from suffrage states are professing suffragists, and
therefore we have nothing to lose by defeating a member of the dominant
party in those states. Another suffragist will take his place.

Men will object to being opposed because of their party responsibility
in spite of their friendliness individually to suffrage. But women
certainly have a right to further through the ballot their wishes on
the suffrage question, as well as on other questions like currency,
tariff, and what not.

This can only be done by considering the Party record, for as the
individual record and individual pledges go, all candidates are
practically equal.

We, as a disfranchised class, consider our right to vote, preeminently
over any other issue in any party’s program.

Political leaders will resent our injecting our issue into their
campaign, but the rank and file will be won when they see the loyalty
of women to women.

This policy will be called militant and in a sense it is, being strong,
positive and energetic.

If it is militant to appeal to women to use their vote to bring
suffrage to this country, then it is militant to appeal to men or women
to use their vote to any good end.

To the question of “How will we profit if another party comes in?” our
answer will be that adequate political chastisement of one party for
its bad suffrage record through a demonstration of power by women
voters affecting the result of the national election, will make it
easier to get action from any party in power

Amidst tremendous enthusiasm this plan was accepted by the little
conference of women at Newport, and $7,000 pledged in a few moments to
start it. There was a small group of women, an infinitely small budget
with which to wage a campaign in nine states, but here was also
enthusiasm and resolute determination.

A tiny handful of women-never more than two, more often only one to a
state—journeyed forth from Washington into the nine suffrage states of
the West to put before the voting women this political theory, and to
ask them to support it.




Chapter 2
Women Voters Organize


It can’t be done.” “Women don’t care about suffrage.” I “Once they’ve
got it, it is a dead issue.” “To talk of arousing the Western women to
protest against the Congressional candidates of the National Democratic
Party in the suffrage states, when every one of them is a professing
suffragist, is utter folly.” So ran the comment of the political wise
acres in the autumn of 1914.

But the women had faith in their appeal.

It is impossible to give in a few words any adequate picture of the
anger of Democratic leaders at our entrance into the campaign. Six
weeks before election they woke up to find the issue of national
suffrage injected into a campaign which they had meant should be no
more stirring than an orderly and perfunctory endorsement of the
President’s legislative program.

The campaign became a very hot one during which most of the militancy
seemed to be on the side of the political leaders. Heavy fists came
down on desks. Harsh words were spoken. Violent threats were made. In
Colorado, where I was cam- paigning, I was invited politely but firmly
by the Democratic leader to leave the state the morning after I had
arrived. “You can do no good here. I would advise you to leave at once.
Besides, your plan is impracticable and the women will not support it.”

“Then why do you object to my being here?” I asked.

“You have no right to ask women to do this . . . .”

Some slight variation of this experience was met by every woman who
took part in this campaign. Of course, the Democratic leaders did not
welcome an issue raised unexpectedly, and one which forced them to
spend an endless amount of time apologizing for and explaining the
Democratic Party’s record. Nor did they relish spending more money
publishing more literature, in short, adding greatly to the burdens of
their campaign. The candidates, a little more suave than the party
leaders, proved most eloquently that they had been suffragists “from
birth.” One candidate even claimed a suffrage inheritance from his
great-grandmother.

This first entry of women into a national election on the suffrage
amendment was little more than a quick, brilliant dash. With all its
sketchiness, however, it had immediate political results, and when the
election was over, there came tardily a general public recognition that
the Congressional Union had made a real contribution to these results.
In the nine suffrage states women vote3 for 45 members of Congress. For
43 of these seats the Democratic Party ran candidates. We opposed in
our campaign all of these candidates. Out of the 43 Democratic
candidates running, only 9.0 were elected. While it was not our primary
aim to defeat candidates it was generally conceded that we had
contributed to these defeats.

Our aim in this campaign was primarily to call to the attention of the
public the bad suffrage record of the Democratic Party. The effect of
our campaign was soon evident in Congress. The most backward member
realized for the first time that women had voted. Even the President
perceived that the movement had gained new strength, though he was not
yet politically moved by it. He was still “tied to a conviction”[1]
which he had had all his life that suffrage “ought to be brought about
state by state.”

[1] Statement to Deputation of Democratic women (eighth deputation) at
the White House, Jan. 6, 1915.


Enough strength and determination among women had been demonstrated to
the Administration, however, to make them want to do something “just as
good” as the thing we asked. The Shafroth-Palmer[1] Resolution was
introduced, providing for a constitutional amendment permitting a
national initiative and referendum on suffrage in the states, thereby
forcing upon women the very course we had sought to circumvent. This
red herring drawn across the path had been accepted by the conservative
suff- ragists evidently in a moment of hopelessness, and their strength
put behind it, but the politicians who persuade them to back it knew
that it was merely an attempt to evade the issue.

[1] This resolution was introduced in the Senate by Senator Shafroth of
Colorado, Democrat; in the House by Representative A. Mitchell Palmer
of Pennsylvania, Democrat, later Attorney General in President Wilson’s
Cabinet. Both men, although avowed supporters of the original Susan B.
Anthony amendment, backed this evil compromise.


This made necessary a tremendous campaign throughout the country by the
Congressional Union, with the result that the compromise measure was
eventually abandoned. During its life, however, politicians were happy
in the opportunity to divide their support between it and the original
amendment, which was still pending. To offset this danger and to show
again in dramatic fashion the strength and will of the women voters to
act on this issue, we made political work among the western women the
principal effort of the year 1915, the year preceding the presidential
election. Taking advantage of the Panama-Pacific Exposition in San
Francisco, we opened suffrage headquarters in the Palace of Education
on the exposition grounds. From there we called the first Woman Voters’
Convention ever held in the world for the single purpose of attaching
political strength to the movement. Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont was chairman
of the committee which signed the convention call.

Women from all the voting states assembled in a mass convention
September 14, 15 and 16. There is not time to describe the beauty of
the pageantry which surrounded that gathering, nor of the emotional
quality which was at high pitch throughout the sessions. These women
from the deserts of Arizona, from the farms of Oregon, from the valleys
of California, from the mountains of Nevada and Utah, were in deadly
earnest. They had answered the call and they meant to stay in the fight
until it was won. The convention went on record unanimously for further
political action on behalf of national suffrage and for the original
amendment without compromise, and pledged itself to use all power to
this end without regard to the interests of any existing political
party.

Two emissaries, Sara Bard Field and Frances Joliffe, both of
California, were commissioned by women voters at the final session,
when more than ten thousand people were present, to go to the President
and Congress bearing these resolutions and hundreds of thousands of
signatures upon a petition gathered during the summer. They would speak
directly to the President lest he should be inclined to take lightly
the women voters’ resolutions.

The envoys, symbolic of the new strength that was to come out of the
West, made their journey across continent by automobile. They created a
sensation all along the way, received as they were by governors, by
mayors, by officials high and low, and by the populace. Thousands more
added their names to the petition and it was rolled up to gigantic
proportions until in December when unrolled it literally stretched over
miles as it was borne to the Capitol with honor escorts.

The action of the convention scarcely cold, and the envoys mid- way
across the continent, the President hastened to New Jersey to cast his
vote for suffrage in a state referendum. He was careful to state that
he did so as a private citizen, “not as the leader of my party in the
nation” He repeated his position, putting the emphasis upon his
opposition to national suffrage, rather than on his belief in suffrage
for his state. “I believe that it (suffrage) should be settled by the
states and not by the national government, and that in no circumstances
should it be made a party question; and my view has grown stronger at
every turn of the agitation.” He knew women were asking the powerful
aid of the President of the United States, not the aid of Mr. Wilson of
Princeton, New Jersey. The state amendment in New Jersey was certain to
fail, as President Wilson well knew. Casting a vote for it would help
his case with women voters, and still not bring suffrage in the East a
step nearer.

The envoys’ reception at the Capitol was indeed dramatic. Thousands of
women escorted them amid bands and banners to the halls of Congress,
where they were received by senators and representatives and addressed
with eloquent speeches. The envoys replied by asking that their message
be carried by friends of the measure to the floor of the Senate and
House, and this was done.

The envoys waited upon the President at the White House. This visit of
the representatives of women with power marked rather an advance in the
President’s position. He listened with an eager attention to the story
of the new-found power and what women meant to do with it. For the
first time on record, he said he had “an open mind” on the question of
national suffrage, and would confer with his party colleagues.

The Republican and Democratic National Committees heard the case of the
envoys. They were given a hearing before the Senate Suffrage Committee
and before the House Judiciary in one of the most lively and
entertaining inquisitions in which women ever participated.

No more questions on mother and home! No swan song on the passing of
charm and womanly loveliness! Only agile scrambling by each committee
member to ask with eagerness and some heat, “Well, if this amendment
has not passed Congress by then, what will you do in the elections of
1916?” It was with difficulty that the women were allowed to tell their
story, so eager was the Committee to jump ahead to political
consequences. “Sirs, that depends upon what you gentlemen do. We are
asking a simple thing——” But they never got any further from the main
base of their interest.

“If President Wilson comes out for it and his party does not” from a
Republican member, “will you——”

“I object to introducing partisan discussions here,” came shamelessly
from a Democratic colleague. And so the hearing passed in something of
a verbal riot, but with no doubt as to the fact that Congressmen were
alarmed by the prospect of women voting as a protest group.

The new year found the Senate promptly reporting the measure favorably
again, but the Judiciary Committee footballed it to its sub-committee,
back to the whole committee, postponed it, marked time, dodged defeated
it.

The problem of neutrality toward the European war was agitating the
minds of political leaders. Nothing like suffrage for women must be
allowed to rock the ship even slightly! Oh, no, indeed; it was men’s
business to keep the nation out of war. Men never had shown marked
skill at keeping nations out of war in the history of the world. But
never mind! Logic must not be pressed too hard upon the “reasoning”
sex. This time, men would do it.

The exciting national election contest was approaching. Party
conventions were scheduled to meet in June while the amendment
languished at the Capitol. It was clear that more highly organized
woman-power would have to be called into action before the national
government would speed its pace. To the women voters the Eastern women
went for decisive assistance. A car known as the “Suffrage Special,”
carrying distinguished Eastern women and gifted speakers, made an
extensive tour of the West and under the banner of the Congressional
Union called again upon the women voters to come to Chicago on June 5th
to form a new party,—The Woman’s Party[1]—to serve as long as should be
necessary as the balance of power in national contests, and thus to
force action from the old parties.

[1] The Woman’s Party started with a membership of all Congressional
Union members in suffrage states. Anne Martin of Nevada was elected
chairman.


The instant response which met this appeal surpassed the most
optimistic hopes. Thousands of women assembled in Chicago for this
convention, which became epoch-making not only in .the suffrage fight
but in the whole woman movement. For the first time in history, women
came together to organize their political power into a party to free
their own sex. For the first time in history representatives of men’s
political parties came to plead before these women voters for the
support of their respective parties.

The Republican Party sent as its representatives John Hays Hammond and
C. S. Osborn, formerly Governor of Michigan. The Democrats sent their
most persuasive orator, President Wilson’s friend, Dudley Field Malone,
Collector of the Port of New York. Allan Benson, candidate for the
Presidency on the Socialist ticket, represented the Socialist Party.
Edward Polling, Prohibition leader, spoke for the Prohibition Party,
arid Victor Murdock and Gifford Pinchot for The Progressive Party.

All laid their claims for suffrage support before the women with the
result that the convention resolved itself into another political
party—The Woman’s Party. A new party with but one plank—the immediate
passage of the federal suffrage amendment—a party determined to
withhold its support from all existing parties until women were
politically free, and to punish politically any party in power which
did not use its power to free women; a party which became a potent
factor of protest in the following national election.

This first step towards the solidarity of women quickly brought
results. The Republican National Convention, meeting immediately. after
the Woman’s Party Convention, and the Democratic National Convention
the week following, both included suffrage planks in their national
platforms for the first time in history. To be sure, they were planks
that failed to satisfy us. But the mere hint of organized political
action on suffrage had moved the two dominant parties to advance a
step. The new Woman’s Party had declared suffrage a national political
issue. The two major parties acknowledged the issue by writing it into
their party platforms.

The Republican platform was vague and indefinite on national suffrage.
The Democratic Party made its suffrage plank specific against action by
Congress. It precisely said, “We recommend the extension of the
franchise to the women of the country by the states upon the same terms
as men.” It was openly stated at the Democratic Convention by leading
Administration Democrats that the President himself had written this
suffrage plank. If the Republicans could afford to write a vague and
indefinite plank, the President and his party could not. They as the
party in power had been under fire and were forced to take sides. They
did so. The President chose the plank and his subordinates followed his
lead. It may be remarked in passing that this declaration so solidified
the opposition within the President’s party that when the President
ultimately sought to repudiate it, he met stubborn resistance.

Protected by the President’s plank, the Democratic Congress continued
to block national suffrage. It would not permit it even to be reported
from the Judiciary Committee. The party platform was written. The
President, too, found it easy to hide behind the plank which he had
himself written, counting on women to be satisfied. To Mrs. D. E.
Hooker of Richmond, Virginia, who as a delegate from the Virginia
Federation of Labor, representing 60,000 members, went to him soon
after to ask his support of the amendment, the President said, “I am
opposed by conviction and political traditions to federal action on
this question. Moreover, after the plank which was adopted in the
Democratic platform at St. Louis, I could not comply with the request
contained in this resolution even if I wished to do so.”

President Wilson could not act because the party plank which he had
written prevented him from doing so!

Meanwhile the women continued to protest.

Miss Mabel Vernon of Delaware, beloved and gifted crusader, was the
first member of the Woman’s Party to commit a “militant” act. President
Wilson, speaking at the dedication services of the Labor Temple in
Washington, was declaring his interest in all classes and all
struggles. He was proclaiming his beliefs in the abstractions of
liberty and justice, when Miss Vernon, who was seated on the platform
from which he was speaking, said in her powerful voice, “Mr. President,
if you sincerely desire to forward the interests of all the people, why
do you oppose the national enfranchisement of, women?” Instant
consternation arose, but the idea had penetrated to the farthest corner
of the huge assembly that women were protesting to the President
against the denial of their liberty.

The President found time to answer, “That is one of the things which we
will have to take counsel over later,” and resumed his speech. Miss
Vernon repeated her question later and was ordered from the meeting by
the police.

As the summer wore on, women realized that they would have to enter the
national contest in the autumn. Attention was focussed on the two rival
presidential candidates, Woodrow Wilson and Charles Evans Hughes, the
Republican nominee, upon whom the new Woman’s Party worked diligently
for prompt statements of their position on the national amendment.

The next political result of the new solidarity of women was Mr.
Hughes’ declaration on August 1st, 1916: “My view is that the proposed
amendment should be submitted and ratified and the subject removed from
political discussion.”

The Democratic Congress adjourned without even report ing the measure
to that body for a vote, and went forthwith to the country to ask
reelection.

We also went to the country. We went to the women voters to lay before
them again the Democratic Party’s record—now complete through one
Administration. We asked women voters again to withhold their support
nationally from President Wilson and his party.

The President accepted at once the opportunity to speak before a
convention of suffragists at Atlantic City in an effort to prove his
great belief in suffrage. He said poetically, “The tide is rising to
meet the moon . . . . You can afford to wait” Whatever we may have
thought of his figure of speech, we disagreed with his conclusion.

The campaign on, Democratic speakers throughout the West found an
unexpected organized force among women, demanding an explanation of the
past conduct of the Democratic Party and insisting on an immediate
declaration by the President in favor of the amendment. Democratic
orators did their utmost to meet this opposition. “Give the President
time. He can’t do everything at once.” “Trust him once more; he will do
it for you next term.” “He kept us out of war. He is the best friend
the mothers of the nation ever had” “He stood by you. Now you women
stand by him.” “What good will votes do you if the Germans come over
here and take your country?” And so on. Enticing doctrine to women—the
peace lovers of the human race.

Although we entered this contest with more strength than we had had in
1914, with a budget five times as large and with piled-up evidence of
Democratic hostility, we could rot have entered a more difficult
contest. The people were excited to an almost unprecedented pitch over
the issue of peace versus war. In spite of the difficulty of competing
with this emotional issue which meant the immediate disposal of
millions of lives, it was soon evident that the two issues were running
almost neck and neck in the Western territory.

No less skilled a campaigner than William Jennings Bryan took the stump
in the West against the Woman’s Party. At least a third of each speech
was devoted to suffrage. He urged. He exhorted. He apologized. He
explained. He pleaded. He condemned. Often he was heckled. Often he saw
huge “VOTE AGAINST WILSON! HE KEPT US OUT OF SUFFRAGE!” banners at the
doors of his meetings. One woman in Arizona, who, unable longer to
listen in patience to the glory of “a democracy where only were
governed those who consented,” interrupted him. He coldly answered,
“Madam, you cannot pick cherries before they are ripe.” By the time he
got to. California, however, the cherries had ripened considerably, for
Mr. Bryan came out publicly for the national amendment.

What was true of Mr. Bryan was true of practically every Democratic
campaigner. Against their wills they were forced to talk about
suffrage, although they had serenely announced at the opening of the
campaign that it was “not an issue in this campaign.” Some merely
apologized and explained. Others, like Dudley Field Malone, spoke for
the federal amendment, and promised to work to put it through the next
Congress, “if only you women will stand by Wilson and return him to
power.”

Space will not permit in this book to give more than a hint of the
scope and strength of our campaign. If it were possible to give a
glimpse of the speeches made by men in that campaign, you would agree
that it was not peace alone that was the dominant issue, but peace and
suffrage. It must be made perfectly clear that the Woman’s Party did
not attempt to elect Mr. Hughes. It did not feel strong enough to back
a candidate in its first battle, and did not conduct its fight
affirmatively at all. No speeches were made for Mr. Hughes and the
Republican Party. The appeal was to vote a vote of protest against Mr.
Wilson and his Congressional candidates, because he and his party had
had the power to pass the amendment through Congress and had refused to
do so. That left the women free to choose from among the Republicans,
Socialists and Prohibitionists. It was to be expected that the main
strength of the vote taken from Mr. Wilson would go to Mr. Hughes, as
few women perhaps threw their votes to the minority parties. But just
as the Progressive Party’s protest had been effective in securing
progressive legislation without winning the election, so the Woman’s
Party hoped its protest would bring results in Congress without
attempting to win the election.

History will never know in round numbers how many women voted against
the President and his party at this crisis, for there are no records
kept for men and women separately, except in one state, in Illinois.
The women there voted two to one against Mr. Wilson and for Mr. Hughes.

Men outnumber women throughout the entire western territory; in some
states, two and three to one; in Nevada, still higher. But, whereas, in
the election of 191, President Wilson got 69 electoral votes from the
suffrage states, in the 1916 election, when the whole West was aflame
for him because of his peace policy, he got only 57. Enthusiasm for Mr.
Hughes in the West was not sufficiently marked to account entirely for
the loss of these 12 electoral votes. Our claim that Democratic
opposition to suffrage had cost many of them was never seriously
denied.

The Democratic Judiciary Committee of the House which had refused to
report suffrage to the House for a vote, had only one Democratic member
from a suffrage state, Mr. Taggart of Kansas, standing for reelection.
This was the only spot where women could strike out against the action
of this committee—and Mr. Taggart. They struck with success. He was
defeated almost wholly by the women’s votes.

With a modest campaign fund of slightly over fifty thousand dollars,
raised almost entirely in small sums, the women had forced the campaign
committee of the Democratic Party to assume the defensive and to
practically double expenditure and work on this issue. As much
literature was used on suffrage as on peace in the suffrage states.

Many Democrats although hostile to our campaign said without
qualification that the Woman’s Party protest was the only factor in the
campaign which stemmed the western tide toward Wilson, and which
finally made California the pivotal state and left his election in
doubt for a week.

Again, with more force, national suffrage had been injected into a
campaign where it was not wanted, where the leaders had hoped the
single issue of “peace” would hold the center of the stage. Again many
women had stood together on this issue and put woman suffrage first.
And the actual reelection of President Wilson had its point of
advantage, too, for it enabled us to continue the education of a man in
power who had already had four years of lively training on the woman
question.




Chapter 3
The Last Deputation to President Wilson


Of the hundreds of women who volunteered for the last Western campaign,
perhaps the most effective in their appeal were the disfranchised
Eastern women.

The most dramatic figure of them all was Inez Milholland Boissevain,
the gallant and beloved crusader who gave her life that the day of
women’s freedom might be hastened. Her last words to the nation as she
fell fainting on the platform in California were, “Mr. President, how
long must women wait for liberty?” Her fiery challenge was never heard
again. She never recovered from the terrific strain of the campaign
which had undermined her young strength. Her death touched the heart of
the nation; her sacrifice, made so generously for liberty, lighted anew
the fire of rebellion in women, and aroused from inertia thousands
never before interested in the liberation of their own sex.

Memorial meetings were held throughout the country at which women not
only paid radiant tribute to Inez Milholland, but reconsecrated
themselves to the struggle and called again upon the reelected
President and his Congress to act.

The most impressive of these memorials was held on Christmas Day in
Washington. In Statuary Hall under the dome of the Capitol—the scene of
memorial services for Lincoln and Garfield—filled with statues of
outstanding figures in the struggle for political and religious liberty
in this country, the first memorial service ever held in the Capitol to
honor a woman, was held for this gallant young leader.

Boy choristers singing the magnificent hymn

“Forward through the darkness
Leave behind the night,
Forward out of error,
Forward into light”


led into the hall the procession of young girl banner-bearers. Garbed
in simple surplices, carrying their crusading banners high above their
heads, these comrades of Inez Milholland Boissevain seemed more
triumphant than sad. They seemed to typify the spirit in which she gave
her life.

Still other young girls in white held great golden banners flanking the
laurel-covered dais, from which could be read the inscriptions:
“Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his
friend” . . . “Without extinction is liberty; Without retrograde is
equality” . . . “As He died to make men holy let us die to make men
free” . . .

From behind the heavy velvet curtains came the music of voices and
strings, and the great organ sounded its tragic and triumphant tones.

Miss Maud Younger of California was chosen to make the memorial address
on this occasion. She said in part:

“We are here to pay tribute to Inez Milholland Boissevain, who was our
comrade. We are here in the nation’s capital, the seat of our
democracy, to pay tribute to one who gave up her life to realize that
democracy . . . .

“Inez Milholland walked down the path of life a radiant being. She went
into work with a song in her heart. She went into battle with a laugh
on her lips. Obstacles inspired her, discouragement urged her on. She
loved work and she loved battle. She loved life and laughter and light,
and above all else she loved liberty. With a loveliness beyond most, a
kindliness, a beauty of mind and soul, she typified always the best and
noblest in womanhood. She was the flaming torch that went ahead to
light the way—the symbol of light and freedom . . .

“Symbol of the woman’s struggle, it was she who carried to the West the
appeal of the unenfranchised, and carrying it, made her last appeal on
earth, her last journey in life.

“As she set out upon her last journey, she seems to have had the
clearer vision, the spiritual quality of one who has already set out
for another world. With infinite understanding and intense faith in her
mission, she was as one inspired. Her meetings were described as
‘revival meetings,’ her audiences as ‘wild with enthusiasm.’ Thousands
acclaimed her, thousands were turned away unable to enter . . .

“And she made her message very plain.

“She stood for no man, no party. She stood only for woman. And standing
thus she urged:

“‘It is women for women now and shall be until the fight is won!
Together we shall stand shoulder to shoulder for the greatest principle
the world has-ever known, the right of self-government.

“‘Whatever the party that has ignored the claims of women we as women
must refuse to uphold it. We must refuse to uphold any party until all
women are free.

“‘We have nothing but our spirits to rely on and the vitality of our
faith, but spirit is invincible.

“‘It is only for a little while. Soon the fight will be over. Victory
is in sight.’

“Though she did not live to see that victory, it is sweet to know that
she lived to see her faith in women justified. In one of her last
letters she wrote:

“‘Not only did we reckon accurately on women’s loyalty to women, but we
likewise realized that our appeal touched a certain spiritual,
idealistic quality in the western woman voter, a quality which is
yearning to find expression in political life. At the idealism of the
Woman’s Party her whole nature flames into enthusiasm and her response
is immediate. She gladly transforms a narrow partisan loyalty into
loyalty to a principle, the establishment of which carries with it no
personal advantage to its advocate, but merely the satisfaction of
achieving one more step toward the emancipation of mankind . . . . We
are bound to win. There never has been a fight yet where interest was
pitted against principle that principle did not triumph!’

“ . . The trip was fraught with hardship. Speaking day and night, she
would take a train at two in the morning to arrive at eight; then a
train at midnight to arrive at five in the morning. Yet she would not
change the program; she would not leave anything out . . .

“And so . . . her life went out in glory in the shining cause of
freedom.

“And as she had lived loving liberty, working for liberty, fighting for
liberty, so it was that with this word on her lips she fell. ‘How long
must women wait for liberty?’ she cried and fell-as surely as any
soldier upon the field of honor—as truly as any who ever gave up his
life for an ideal.

“As in life she had been the symbol of the woman’s cause so in death
she is the symbol of its sacrifice. The whole daily sacrifice, the
pouring out of life and strength that is the toll of woman’s prolonged
struggle.

“Inez Milholland is one around whom legends will grow up. Generations
to come will point out Mount Inez and tell of the beautiful woman who
sleeps her last sleep on its slopes.

“They will tell of her in the West, tell of the vision of loveliness as
she flashed through on her last burning mission, flashed through to her
death—a falling star in the western heavens.

“But neither legend nor vision is liberty, which was her life. Liberty
cannot die. No work for liberty can be lost. It lives on in the hearts
of the people, in their hopes, their aspira- tions, their activities.
It becomes part of the life of the nation. What Inez Milholland has
given to the world lives on forever.

“We are here to-day to pay tribute to Inez Milholland Boissevain, who
was our comrade. Let our tribute be not words which pass, nor song
which flies, nor flower which fades. Let it be this: that we finish the
task she could not finish; that with new strength we take up the
struggle in which fighting beside us she fell; that with new faith we
here consecrate ourselves to the cause of woman’s freedom until that
cause is won; that with new devotion we go forth, inspired by her
sacrifice, to the end that her sacrifice be not in vain, for dying she
shall bring to pass that which living she could not achieve—full
freedom for women, full democracy for the nation.

“Let this be our tribute, imperishable, to Inez Milholland Boissevain.”

Miss Anne Martin of Nevada, chairman of the Woman’s Party, presided
over the services. Other speakers were Honorable George Sutherland,
United States Senator from Utah, representing the United States
Congress; and Honorable Rowland S. Mahany, former member of Congress
and lifelong friend of the Milholland family.

Mrs. William Kent of California, wife of Representative Kent, presented
two resolutions which the vast audience approved by silently rising.
One resolution, a tribute of rare beauty, prepared by Zona Gale, a
friend of Inez Milholland, was a compelling appeal to all women to
understand and to reverence the ideals of this inspiring leader. The
other was an appeal to the Administration for action.

The pageantry of surpliced choristers and the long line of girl
standard-bearers retired to the strains of the solemn recessional. The
great audience sat still with bowed heads as the voices in the distance
dropped in silence. Instantly the strains of the Marseillaise, filling
the great dome with its stirring and martial song of hope, were taken
up by the organ and the strings, and the audience was lifted to its
feet singing as if in anticipation of the triumph of liberty.

The women were in no mood merely to mourn the loss of a comrade-
leader. The government must be shown again its share of responsibility.
Another appeal must be made to the President who, growing steadily in
control over the people and over his Congress, was the one leader
powerful enough to direct his party to accept this reform. But he was
busy gathering his power to lead them elsewhere. Again we would have to
compete with pro-war anti-war sentiment. But it was no time to relax.

Following the holiday season a deputation of over three hundred women
carried to the White House the Christmas Day memorial for Inez
Milholland and other memorials from similar services. The President was
brought face to face with the new protest of women against the
continued waste of physical and spiritual energy in their battle. There
is no better way to picture the protest than to give you something
verbatim from the speeches made that memorable day. This was the first
meeting of suffragists with the President since the campaign against
him in the previous autumn. It was only because of the peculiar
character of the appeal that he consented to hear them.

Miss Younger presented the national memorial to him and introduced Mrs.
John Winters Brannan, who made no plea to the President but merely gave
him the New York memorial which read as follows:

“This gathering of men and women, assembled on New Year’s day in New
York to hold a memorial service in honor of Inez Milholland Boissevain,
appeals to you, the President of the United States, to end the
outpouring of life and effort that has been made for the
enfranchisement of women for more than seventy years in this country.
The death of this lovely and brave women symbolizes the whole daily
sacrifice that vast numbers of women have made and are making for the
sake of political freedom. It has made vivid the ‘constant unnoticed
tragedy of, this prolonged effort for a freedom that is acknowledged
just, but still denied.’

“It is not given to all to be put to the supreme test and to accept
that test with such gallant gladness as she did. The struggle, however,
has reached the point where it requires such intensity of
effort—relentless and sustained—over the whole vast country, that the
health of thousands of noble women is being insidiously undermined. If
this continues, and it will continue until victory is won, we know only
too surely that many women whom the nation can ill spare will follow in
the footsteps of Inez Milholland.

“We desire to make known to you, Mr. President, our deep sense of wrong
being inflicted upon women in making them spend their health and
strength and forcing them to abandon other work that means fuller
self-expression, in order to win freedom under a government that
professes to believe in democracy.

“There is only one cause for which it is right to risk health and life.
No price is too high to pay for liberty. So long as lives of women are
required, these lives will be given.

“But we beg of you, Mr. President, so to act that this ghastly price
will not have to be paid. Certainly it is a grim irony that a Republic
should exact it. Upon you at this moment rests a solemn responsibility;
for with you it rests to decide whether the life of this brilliant,
dearly-loved woman whose glorious death we commemorate to-day, shall be
the last sacrifice of fife demanded of American women in their struggle
for self-government.

“We ask you with all the fervor and earnestness of our souls to exert
your power over Congress in behalf of the national enfranchisement of
women in the same way you have so successfully used it on other
occasions and for far less important measures.

“We are confident that if the President of the United States decides
that this act of justice shall be done in the present session of
Congress, it will be done. We know further that if the President does
not urge it, it will not be done. . . “

A fraction of a moment of silence follows, but it is long enough to
feel strongly the emotional state of mind of the President. It plainly
irritates him to be so plainly spoken to. We are conscious that his
distant poise on entering is dwindling to petty confusion. There is
something inordinately cool about the fervor of the women. This too
irritates him. His irritation only serves to awaken in every woman new
strength. It is a wonderful experience to feel strength take possession
of your being in a contest of ideas. No amount of trappings, no amount
of authority, no number of plainclothes men, nor the glamour of the
gold-braided attaches, nor the vastness of the great reception hall,
nor the dazzle of the lighted crystal chandeliers, and above all not
the mind of your opponent can cut in on your slim, hard strength. You
are more than invincible. Your mind leaps ahead to the infinite liberty
of which yours is only a small part. You feel his strength in
authority, his weakness in vision. He does not follow. He feels sorrow
for us. He patronizes us. He must temper his irritation at our
undoubted fanaticism and unreason. We, on the other hand, feel so
superior to him. Our strength to demand is so much greater than his
power to withhold. But he does not perceive this.

In the midst of these currents the serene and appealing voice of Sara
Bard Field came as a temporary relief to the President—but only
temporary. Shy brought tears to the eyes of the women as she said in
presenting the California memorial resolutions:

“Mr. President, a year ago I had the honor of calling upon you with a
similar deputation. At that time we brought from my western country a
great petition from the voting women urging your assistance in the
passage of the federal amendment for suffrage. At that time you were
most gracious to us. You showed yourself to be in line with all the
progressive leaders by your statement to us that you could change your
mind and would consider doing so in connection with this amendment. We
went away that day with hope in our hearts, but neither the hope
inspired by your friendly words nor the faith we had in you as an
advocate of democracy kept us from working day and night in the
interest of our cause.

“Since that day when we came to you, Mr. President, one of our most
beautiful and beloved comrades, Inez Milholland, has paid the price of
her life for this cause. The untimely death of a young woman like
this—a woman for whom the world has such bitter need—has focussed the
attention of the men and women of the nation on the fearful waste of
women which this fight for the ballot is entailing. The same maternal
instinct for the preservation of life—whether it be the physical life
of a child or the spiritual life of a cause—is sending women into this
battle for liberty with an urge which gives them no rest night or day.
Every advance of liberty has demanded its quota of human sacrifice, but
if I had time I could show you that we have paid in a measure that is
running over. In the light of Inez Milholland’s death, as we look over
the long backward trail through which we have sought our political
liberty, we are asking how long must this struggle go on.

“Mr. President, to the nation more than to women alone is this waste of
maternal force significant. In industry such a waste of money and
strength would not be permitted. The modern trend is all toward
efficiency. Why is such waste permitted in the making of a nation?

“Sometimes I think it must be very hard to be a President, in respect
to his contacts with people as well as in the great business he must
perform. The exclusiveness necessary to a great dignitary holds him
away from that democracy of communion, necessary to a full
understanding of what the people .are really thinking and desiring. I
feel that this deputation to-day fails in its mission if, because of
the dignity of your office and the formality of such an occasion, we
fail to bring you the throb of woman’s desire for freedom and her
eagerness to ally herself when once the ballot is in her hand, with all
those activities to which you, yourself, have dedicated your life.
Those tasks which this nation has set itself to do are her tasks as
well as man’s. We women who are here to-day are close to this desire of
women. We cannot believe that you are our enemy or indifferent to the
fundamental righteousness of our demand.

“We have come here to you in your powerful office as our helper. We
have come in the name of justice, in the name of democracy, in the name
of all women who have fought and died for this cause, and in a peculiar
way with our hearts bowed in sorrow, in the name of this gallant girl
who died with the word ‘liberty’ on her lips. We have come asking you
this day to speak some favorable word to us that we may know that you
will use your good and great office to end this wasteful struggle of
women.”

The highest point in the interview had been reached. Before the
President began his reply, we were aware that the high moment had gone.
But we listened.

“Ladies, I had not been apprised that you were coming here to make any
representations that would issue an appeal to me. I had been told that
you were coming to present memorial resolutions with regard to the very
remarkable woman whom your cause has lost. I, therefore, am not
prepared to say anything further than I have said on previous occasions
of this sort.

“I do not need to tell you where my own convictions and my own personal
purpose lie, and I need not tell you by what circumscriptions I am
bound as leader of a party. As the leader of a party my commands come
from that party and not from private personal convictions.

“My personal action as a citizen, of course, comes from no source but
my own conviction. and, therefore, my position has been so frequently
defined, and I hope so candidly defined, and it is so impossible for me
until the orders of my party are changed, to do anything other than I
am doing as a party leader, that I think nothing more is necessary to
be said.

“I do want to say this: I do not see how anybody can fail to observe
from the utterances of the last campaign that the Democratic Party is
more inclined than the opposition to assist in this great cause, and it
has been a matter of surprise to me, and a matter of very great regret
that so many of those who were heart and soul for this cause seemed so
greatly to misunderstand arid misinterpret the attitude of parties. In
this country, as in every other self-governing country, it is really
through the instrumentality of parties that things can be accomplished.
They are not accomplished by the individual voice but by concerted
action, and that action must come only so fast as you can concert it. I
have done my best and shall continue to do my best to concert it in the
interest of a cause in which I personally believe.”

Dead silence. The President stands for a brief instant at the end of
his words as if waiting for some faint stir of approval which does not
come. He has the baffled air of a dis- appointed actor who has failed
to “get across.” Then he turns abruptly on his heel and the great doors
swallow him up. Silently the women file through the corridor and into
the fresh air.

The women returned to the spacious headquarters across the park all of
one mind. How little the President knew about women! How he
underestimated their intelligence and penetration of things political,!
Was it possible that he really thought these earnest champions of
liberty would merely carry resolutions of sorrow and regret to the
President?

But this was not the real irony. How lightly he had shifted the
responsibility for getting results to his party. With what coldness he
had bade us “concert opinion,” a thing which he alone could do. That
was pretty hard to bear, coming as it did when countless forms of
appeal had been exhausted by which women without sufficient power could
“concert” anything. The movement was almost at the point of languishing
so universal was the belief in the nation that suffrage for women was
inevitable. And yet he and his party remained immovable.

The three hundred women of the memorial deputation became on their
return to headquarters a spirited protest meeting.

Plans of action in the event the President refused to help had been
under consideration by Miss Paul and her executive committee for some
time, but they were now presented for the first time for approval.
There was never a more dramatic moment at which to ask the women if
they were ready for drastic action.

Harriot Stanton Blatch, daughter of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and a
powerful leader of women, voiced the feeling of the entire body when
she said, in a ringing call for action:

“We have gone to Congress, we have gone to the President during the
last four years with great deputations, with small deputations. We have
shown the interest all over the country in self-government for
women—something that the President as a great Democrat ought to
understand and respond to instantly. Yet he tells us to-day that we
must win his party. He said it was strange that we did not see before
election that his party was more favorable to us than the Republican
party. How did it show its favor? How did he show his favor today to
us? He says we have got to convert his party . . . Why? Never before
did the Democratic Party lie more in the hands of one man than it lies
to-day in the hands of President Wilson. Never did the Democratic Party
have a greater leader, and never was it more susceptible to the wish of
that leader, than is the Democratic Party of to-day to President
Wilson. He controls his party, and I don’t think he is too modest to
know it. He can mould it as he wishes and he has moulded it. He moulded
it quickly before election in the matter of the eight-hour law. Was
that in his party platform? He had to crush and force his party to pass
that measure. Yet he is not willing to lay a finger’s weight on his
party to-day for half the people of the United States . . . . Yet
to-day he tells us that we must wait more—and more.

“We can’t organize bigger and more influential deputations. We can’t
organize bigger processions. We can’t, women, do anything more in that
line. We have got to take a new departure. We have got to keep the
question before him all the time. We have got to begin and begin
immediately.

“Women, it rests with us. We have got to bring to the President,
individually, day by day, week in and week out, the idea that great
numbers of women want to be free, wall be free, and want to know what
he is going to do about it.

“Won’t you come and join us in standing day after day at the gates of
the White House with banners asking, ‘What will you do, Mr. President,
for one-half the people of this nation?’ Stand there as
sentinels—sentinels of liberty, sentinels of self-government—silent
sentinels. Let us stand beside the gateway where he must pass in and
out, so that he can never fail to realize that there is a tremendous
earnestness and insistence back of this measure. Will you not show your
allegiance today to this ideal of liberty? Will you not be a silent
sentinel of liberty and self-government?”

Deliberations continued. Details were settled. Three thousand dollars
was raised in a few minutes among these women, fresh from the
President’s rebuff. No one suggested waiting until the next
Presidential campaign. No one even mentioned the fact that time was
precious, and we could wait no longer. Every one seemed to feel these
things without troubling to put them into words. Volunteers signed up
for sentinel duty and the fight was on.




Part III
Militancy


“I will write a song for the President, full of menacing signs,
And back of it all, millions of discontented eyes.”


WALT WHITMAN




Chapter 1
Picketing a President


When all suffrage controversy has died away it will be the little army
of women with their purple, white and gold banners, going to prison for
their political freedom, that will be remembered. They dramatized to
victory the long suffrage fight in America. The challenge of the picket
line roused the government out of its half-century sleep of
indifference. It stirred the country to hot controversy. It made
zealous friends and violent enemies. It produced the sharply-drawn
contest which forced the surrender of the government in the second
Administration of President Wilson.

The day following the memorial deputation to the President, January
10th, 1917, the first line of sentinels, a dozen in number, appeared
for duty at the White House gates. In retrospect it must seem to the
most inflexible person a reasonably mild and gentle thing to have done.
But at the same time it caused a profound stir. Columns of front page
space in all the newspapers of the country gave more or less
dispassionate accounts of the main facts. Women carrying banners were
standing quietly at the White House gates “picketing” the President;
women wanted President Wilson to put his power behind the suffrage
amendment in Congress. That did not seem so shocking and only a few
editors broke out into hot condemnation.

When, however, the women went back on the picket line the next day and
the next and the next, it began to dawn upon the excited press that
such persistence was “undesirable” . . . “unwomanly” …“dangerous.”
Gradually the people most hostile to the idea of suffrage in any form
marshaled forth the fears which accompany every departure from the
prescribed path. Partisan Democrats frowned. Partisan Republicans
chuckled. The rest remained in cautious silence to see how “others”
would take it. Following the refrain of the press, the protest-chorus
grew louder.

“Silly women” . . . “unsexed” . . .” pathological” . . . “They must be
crazy” . . . “Don’t they know anything about politics?” . . . “What can
Wilson do? He does not have to sign the constitutional amendment.” . .
. So ran the comment from the wise elderly gentlemen sitting buried in
their cushioned chairs at the gentlemen’s club across the Park,
watching eagerly the “shocking,” “shameless” women at the gates of the
White House. No wonder these gentlemen found the pickets irritating!
This absorbing topic of conversation, we are told, shattered many an
otherwise quiet afternoon and broke up many a quiet game. Here were
American women before their very eyes daring to shock them into having
to think about liberty. And what was worse—liberty for women. Ah well,
this could not go on,—this insult to the President. They could with
impunity condemn him and gossip about his affairs. But that women
should stand at his gates asking for liberty—that was a sin without
mitigation.

Disapproval was not confined merely to the gentlemen in their Club. I
merely mention them as an example, for they were our neighbors, and the
strain on them day by day, as our beautiful banners floated gaily out
from our headquarters was, I am told, a heavy one.

Yet, of course, we enjoyed irritating them. Standing on the icy
pavement on a damp, wintry day in the penetrating cold of a Washington
winter, knowing that within a stone’s throw of our agony there was a
greater agony than ours—there was a joy in that!

There were faint rumblings also in Congress, but like so many of its
feelings they were confined largely to the cloak rooms. Representative
Emerson of Ohio did demand from the floor of the House that the
“suffrage guard be withdrawn, as it is an insult to the President,” but
his protest met with no response whatever from the other members. His
oratory fell on indifferent ears. And of course there were always those
in Congress who got a vicarious thrill watching women do in their fight
what they themselves had not the courage to do in their own. Another
representative, an anti-suffrage Democrat, inconsiderately called us
“Iron-jawed angels,” and hoped we would retire. But if by these
protests these congressmen hoped to arouse their colleagues, they
failed.

We were standing at the gates of the White House because the American
Congress had become so supine that it could not or would not act
without being compelled to act by the President. They knew that if they
howled at us it would only afford an opportunity to retort—“Very well
then, if you do not like us at the gates of your leader; if you do not
want us to ‘insult’ the President, end this agitation by taking the
matter into your own hands and passing the amendment.” Such a sug-
gestion would be almost as severe a shock as our picketing. The thought
of actually initiating legislation left a loyal Demo- cratic follower
transfixed.

The heavy dignity of the Senate forbade their meddling much in this
controversy over tactics. Also they were more interested in the
sporting prospect of our going into the world war. There was no appeal
to blood-lust in the women’s fight. There were no shining rods of
steel. There was no martial music. We were not pledging precious lives
and vast billions in our crusade for liberty. The beginning of our
fight did indeed seem tiny and frail by the side of the big game of
war, and so the senators were at first scarcely aware of our presence.

But the intrepid women stood their long vigils, day by day, at the
White House gates, through biting wind and driving rain, through sleet
and snow as well as sunshine, waiting for the President to act. Above
all the challenges of their banners rang this simple, but insistent
one:

Mr. President
How Long Must Women Wait for Liberty?


The royal blaze of purple, white and gold-the Party’s tricolored
banners—made a gorgeous spot of color against the bare, blacklimbed
trees.

There were all kinds of pickets and so there were all kinds of
reactions to the experience of picketing. The beautiful lady, who drove
up in her limousine to do a twenty minute turn on the line, found it
thrilling, no doubt. The winter tourist who had read about the pickets
in her home paper thought it would be “so exciting” to hold a banner
for a few minutes. But there were no illusions in the hearts of the
women who stood at their posts day in and day out. None of them will
tell you that they felt exalted, ennobled, exhilarated, possessed of
any rare and exotic emotion. They were human beings before they were
pickets. Their reactions were those of any human beings called upon to
set their teeth doggedly and hang on to an unpleasant job.

“When will that woman come to relieve me? I have stood here an hour and
a half and my feet are like blocks of ice,” was a more frequent comment
from picket to picket than “Isn’t it glorious to stand here defiantly
no matter what the stupid people say about us?”

“I remember the thousand and one engaging things that would come to my
mind on the picket line. It seemed that anything but standing at a
President’s gate would be more diverting. But there we stood.

And what were the reflections of a President as he saw the indomitable
little army at his gates? We can only venture to say from events which
happened. At first he seemed amused and interested. Perhaps he thought
it a trifling incident staged by a minority of the extreme “left” among
suffragists and anticipated no popular support for it. When he saw
their persistence through a cruel winnter his sympathy was touched. He
ordered the guards to invite them in for a cup of hot coffee, which
they declined. He raised his hat to them as he drove through the line.
Sometimes he smiled. As yet he was not irritated. He was fortified in
his national power.

With the country’s entrance into the war and his immediate elevation to
world leadership, the pickets began to be a serious thorn in his flesh.
His own statements of faith in democracy and the necessity for
establishing it .throughout the world left him open to attack. His
refusal to pay the just bill owed the women and demanded by them
brought irritation.

What would you do if you owed a just bill and every day some one stood
outside your gates as a quiet reminder to the whole world that you had
not paid it?

You would object. You would get terribly irritated. You would call the
insistent one all kinds of harsh names. You might even arrest him. But
the scandal would be out.

Rightly or wrongly, your sincerity would be touched; faith in you would
be shaken a bit. Perhaps even against your will you would yield.

But you would yield. And that was the one important fact to the women.

This daily sight, inspiring, gallant and impressive, escaped no visitor
to the national capital. Distinguished visitors from the far corners of
the earth passed by the pickets on those days which made history.
Thousands read the compelling messages on the banners, and literally
hundreds of thousands learned the story, when the visitors got “back
home.”

Real displeasure over the sentinels by those who passed was negligible.
There was some mirth and joking, but the vast majority were filled with
admiration, either silent or expressed.

“Keep it up.” . . . “You are on the right track.” . . .
“Congratulations.” . . . “I certainly admire your pluck—stick to it and
you will get it.” . . . This last from a military officer . . . . “It
is an outrage that you women should have to stand here and beg for your
rights. We gave it to our women in Australia long ago:” . . . This from
a charming gentleman who bowed approvingly.

Often a lifted hat was held in sincere reverence over the heart as some
courteous gentleman passed along the picket line. Of course there were
some who came to try to argue with the pickets; who attempted to
dissuade them from their persistent course. But the serene, good humor
and even temper of the women would not allow heated arguments to break
in on the military precision of their line. If a question was asked, a
picket would answer quietly. An occasional sneer was easy to meet. That
required no acknowledgment.

A sweet old veteran of the Civil War said to one of my comrades: “Yous
all right; you gotta fight for your rights in this world, and now that
we are about to plunge into another war, I want to tell you women
there’ll be no end to it unless you women get power. We can’t save
ourselves and we need you . . . . I am 84 years old, and I have watched
this fight since I was a young man. Anything I can do to help, I want
to do. I am living at the Old Soldiers’ Home and I ain’t got mach
money, but here’s something for your campaign. It’s all I got, and God
bless you, you’ve gotta win.” He spoke the last sentence almost with
desperation as he shoved a crumpled $2.00 bill into her hand. His
spirit made it a precious gift.

Cabinet members passed and repassed. Congressmen by the hundreds came
and went. Administration leaders tried to conceal under an. artificial
indifference their sensitiveness to our strategy.

And domestic battles were going on inside the homes throughout the
country, for women were coming from every state in the Union, to take
their place on the line. For the first time good “suffrage-husbands”
were made uncomfortable. Had they not always believed in suffrage? Had
they not always been uncomplaining when their wife’s time was given to
suffrage campaigning? Had they not, in short, been good sports about
the whole thing? There was only one answer. They had. But it had been
proved that all the things that women had done and all the things in
which their menfolk had cooperated, were not enough. Women were called
upon for more intensive action. “You cannot go to Washington and risk
your health standing in front of the White House. I cannot have it.”

“But the time has come when we have to take risks of health or anything
else.”

“Well, then, if you must know, I don’t believe in it. Now I am a
reasonable man and I have stood by you all the way up to now, but I
object to this. It isn’t ladylike, and it will do the cause more harm
than good. You women lay yourselves open to ridicule.”

“That’s just it—that’s a fine beginning. As soon as men get tired
laughing at us, they will do something more about it. They won’t find
our campaign so amusing before long.”

“But I protest. You’ve no right to go without considering me.”

“But if your country called you in a fight for democracy, as it is
likely to do at any moment, you’d go, wouldn’t you?”

“Why, of course.”

“Of course you would. You would go to the front and leave me to
struggle on as best I could without you. That is the way you would
respond to your country’s call, whether it was a righteous cause or
not. Well, I am going to the front too. I am going to answer the
women’s call to fight for democracy. I would be ashamed of myself if I
were not willing to join my comrades. I am sorry that you object, but
if you will just put yourself in my place you will see that I cannot do
otherwise.”

It must be recorded that there were exceptional men of sensitive
imaginations who urged women against their own hesitancy. They are the
handful who gave women a hope that they would not always have to
struggle alone for their liberation. And women passed by the daily
picket line as spectators, not as participants. Occasionally a woman
came forward to remonstrate, but more often women were either too shy
to advance or so enthusiastic that nothing could restrain them. The
more kind-hearted of them, inspired by the dauntless pickets in the
midst of a now freezing temperature, brought mittens, fur pieces,
golashes, wool -lined raincoats: hot bricks to stand on, coffee in
thermos bottles and what not.

Meanwhile the pickets became a household word in Washington, and very
soon were the subject of animated conversation in practically every
corner of the nation. The Press cartoonists, by their friendly and
satirical comments, helped a great deal in popularizing the campaign.
In spite of the bitter editorial comment of most of the press, the
humor of the situation had an almost universal appeal.

At the Washington dinner of the Gridiron Club, probably the best known
press club in the world,—a dinner at which President Wilson was a
guest,—one of the songs sung for his benefit was as follows:

“We’re camping to-night on the White House grounds
Give us a rousing cheer;
Our golden flag we hold aloft, of cops we have no fear.
Many of the pickets are weary to-night,
Wishing for the war to cease; many are the chilblains and frost- bites
too;
It is no life of ease.
Camping to-night, camping to-night,
Camping on the White House grounds.”


The White House police on duty at the gates came to treat the picketers
as comrades.

“I was kinds worried,” confessed one burly officer when the pickets
were five minutes late one day. “We thought perhaps you weren’t coming
and we world have to hold down this place alone.”

The bitter-enders among the opponents of suffrage broke into such
violent criticism that they won new friends to the amendment.

People who had never before thought of suffrage for women had to think
of it, if only to the extent of objecting to the way in which we asked
for it. People who had thought a little about suffrage were compelled
to think more about it. People who had believed in suffrage all their
lives, but had never done a, stroke of work for it, began to make
speeches about it, if only for the purpose of condemning us.

Some politicians who had voted for it when there were not enough votes
to carry the measure loudly threatened to commit political suicide by
withdrawing their support. But it was easy to see at a glance that they
would not dare to run so great a political risk on an issue growing
daily more important.

As soon as the regular picket line began to be accepted as a matter of
course, we undertook to touch it up a bit to sustain public interest.
State days were inaugurated, beginning with Maryland. The other states
took up the idea with enthusiasm. There was a College Day, when women
representing 15 American colleges stood on the line; a Teachers’ Day,
which found the long line represented by almost every state in the
Union, and a Patriotic Day, when American flags mingled with the
party’s banners carried by representatives of the Women’s Reserve
Corps, Daughters of the Revolution and other patriotic organizations.
And there were professional days when women doctors, lawyers and nurses
joined the picket appeal.

Lincoln’s birthday anniversary saw another new feature. A long line of
women took out banners bearing the slogans:

LINCOLN STOOD FOR WOMAN SUFFRAGE 60 YEARS AGO.
MR. PRESIDENT, WHY DO YOU BLOCK THE NATIONAL SUFFRAGE AMENDMENT TO-DAY?

WHY ARE YOU BEHIND LINCOLN?


and another:

AFTER THE CIVIL WAR, WOMEN ASKED FOR POLITICAL FREEDOM. THEY WERE TOLD
TO WAIT—THIS WAS THE NEGRO’S HOUR. IN 1917 AMERICAN WOMEN STILL ASK FOR
FREEDOM.
WILL YOU, MR. PRESIDENT, TELL THEM TO WAIT-THAT THIS IS THE PORTO
RICANS HOUR?[1]


[1] President Wilson had just advocated self-government for Porto Rican
men.


A huge labor demonstration on the picket line late in February brought
women wage earners from office and factory throughout the Eastern
States.

A special Susan B. Anthony Day on the anniversary of the birth of that
great pioneer, served to remind. the President who said, “You can
afford to wait,” that the women had been waiting and fighting for this
legislation to pass Congress since the year 1878.

More than one person came forward to speak with true religious fervor
of the memory of the great Susan B. Anthony. Her name is never
mentioned nor her words quoted without finding such a response.

In the face of heavy snow and rain, dozens of young women stood in
line, holding special banners made for this occasion. Thousands of men
and women streaming home from work in the early evening read words of
hers spoken during the Civil War, so completely applicable to the
policy of the young banner- bearers at the gates.

WE PRESS OUR DEMAND FOR THE BALLOT AT THIS TIME IN NO NARROW, CAPIOUS
OR SELFISH SPIRIT, BUT FROM PUREST PATRIOTISM FOR THE HIGHEST GOOD OF
EVERY CITIZEN, FOR THE SAFETY OF THE REPUBLIC AND A3 A GLORIOUS EXAMPLE
TO THE NATIONS OF THE EARTH.


AT THIS TIME OUR GREATEST NEED IS NOT MEN O$ MONEY, VALIANT GENERALS OR
BRILLIANT VICTORIES, BUT A CONSISTENT NATIONAL POLICY BASED UPON THE
PRINCIPLE THAT ALL GOVERNMENTS DERIVE THEIR JUST POWERS FROM THE
CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED.


THE RIGHT OF SELF-GOVERNMENT FOR ONE-HALF OF ITS PEOPLE IS OF FAR MORE
VITAL CONSEQUENCE TO THE NATION THAN ANY OR ALL OTHER QUESTIONS.


During the reunion week of the Daughters and Veterans of the
Confederacy, the picket line was the center of attraction for the
sight-seeing veterans and their families. For the first time in history
the troops of the Confederacy had crossed the Potomac and taken
possession of the capital city. The streets were lined with often
tottering but still gallant old men, whitehaired and stooped, wearing
their faded badges on their gray uniforms, and carrying their tattered
flags.

It seemed to the young women on picket duty during those days that not
a single veteran had failed to pay his respects to the pickets. They
came and came; and some brought back their wives to show them the guard
at the gates.

One old soldier with tears in his dim eyes came to say, “I’ve done
sentinel duty in my time. I know what it is . . . And now it’s your
turn. You young folks have the strength and the courage to keep it up .
. . . You are going to put it through!”

One sweet old Alabamian came shyly up to one of the pickets and said,
“I say, Miss, this is the White House, isn’t it?”

Before she could answer, he added: “We went three times around the
place and I told the boys, the big white house in the center was the
White House, but they wasn’t believing me and I wasn’t sure, but as
soon as I saw you girls coming with your flags, to stand here, I said,
‘This must be the White House. This is sure enough where the President
lives; here are the pickets with their banners that we read about down
home.’’ A note of triumph was in his frail voice.

The picket smiled, and thanked him warmly, as he finished with, “You
are brave girls. You are bound to get him”—pointing his shaking finger
toward the White House.

President Wilson’s second inauguration was rapidly approaching. Also
war clouds were gathering with all the increased emotionalism that
comes at such a crisis. Some additional demonstration of power and
force must be made before the President’s inauguration and before the
excitement of our entry into the war should plunge our agitation into
obscurity. This was the strategic moment to assemble our forces in
convention in Washington.

Accordingly, the Congressional Union for Woman Suffrage and the Woman’s
Party, that section of the Congressional Union in suffrage states made
up of women voters, convened in Washington and decided unanimously to
unite their strength, money and political power in one organization,
and called it the National Woman’s Party.

The following officers were unanimously elected to direct the
activities of the new organization: Chairman of the National Woman’s
Party, Miss Alice Paul, New Jersey; Vice-chairman, Miss Anne Martin,
Nevada; secretary, Miss Mabel Vernon, Nevada; treasurer, Miss Gertrude
Crocker, Illinois; executive members, Miss Lucy Burns, Mrs. O. H. P.
Belmont, Mrs. John Winters Brannan, New York; Mrs. Gilson Gardner,
Illinois; Mrs. Robert Baker, Washington, D. C.; Mrs. William Kent and
Miss Maud Younger, California; Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles, Delaware;
Mrs. Donald Hooker, Maryland; Mrs. J. A. H. Hopkins, New Jersey; Mrs.
Lawrence Lewis, Pennsylvania, and Miss Doris Stevens, Nebraska.

The convention came to a close on the eve of inauguration, culminating
in the dramatic picket line made up of one thousand delegates who
sought an interview with the President. The purpose of the interview
was to carry to him the resolutions of the convention, and further
plead with him to open his second administration with a promise to back
the amendment.

In our optimism we hoped that this glorified picket-pageant might form
a climax to our three months of picketing. The President admired
persistence. He said so. He also said he appreciated the rare tenacity
shown by our women. Surely “now” he would be convinced! No more
worrying persistence would be needed ! The combined political strength
of the western women and the financial strength of the eastern women
would surely command his respect and entitle us to a hearing.

What actually happened?

It was a day of high wind and stinging, icy rain, that March 4th, 1917,
when a thousand women, each bearing a banner, struggled against the
gale to keep their banners erect. It is always impressive to see a
thousand people march, but the impression was imperishable when these
thousand women marched in rain-soaked garments, hands bare, gloves
roughly torn by the sticky varnish from the banner poles and the
streams of water running down the poles into the palms of their hands.
It was a sight to impress even the most hardened spectator who had seen
all the various forms of the suffrage agitation in Washington. For more
than two hours the women circled the White House—the rain never ceasing
for an instant—hoping to the last moment that at least their leaders
would be allowed to take in to the President the resolutions which they
were carrying.

Long before the appointed hour for the march to start, thousands of
spectators sheltered by umbrellas and raincoats lined the streets to
watch the procession. Two bands whose men managed to continue their
spirited music in spite of the driving rain led the march playing
“Forward Be Our Watchword”; “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”; “Onward
Christian Soldiers”; “The Pilgrim’s Chorus” from Tannhäuser; “The
Coronation March” from Le Prophète, the Russian Hymn and “The
Marsellaise”

Miss Vida Milholland led the procession carrying her sister’s last
words, “Mr. President, how long must women wait for liberty?” She was
followed by Miss Beulah Amidon of North Dakota, who carried the banner
that the beloved Inez Milholland carried in her first suffrage
procession in New York. The long line of women fell in behind.

Most extraordinary precautions had been taken about the White House.
Everything had been done except the important thing. There were almost
as many police officers as marchers. The Washington force had been
augmented by a Baltimore contingent and squads of plainclothes men. On
every fifty feet of curb around the entire White House grounds there
was a policeman., About the same distance apart on the inside of the
tall picket-fence which surrounds the grounds were as many more.

We proceeded to the main gate. Locked! I was marshalling at the head of
the line and so heard first hand what passed between the leaders and
the guards. Miss Anne, Martin addressed the guard—

“We have come to present some important resolutions to the President of
the United States.”

“I have orders to keep the gates locked, Ma’am.”

“But there must be some mistake. Surely the President does not mean to
refuse to see at least . . .”

“Those are my only orders, Ma’am.”

The procession continued on to the second gate on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Again locked. Before we could address the somewhat nervous policeman
who stood at the gates, he hastened to say, “You can’t come in here;
the gates are locked.”

“But it is imperative; we are a thousand women from all States in the
Union who have come all the way to Washington to see the President and
lay before him . . .”

“No orders, Ma’am.”

The line made its way to the third and last gate—the gate leading to
the Executive offices. As we came up to this gate a small army of
grinning clerks and secretaries manned the windows of the Executive
offices, evidently amused at the sight of the women struggling in the
wind and rain to keep their banners intact. Miss Martin, Mrs. William
Kent of California, Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles of Delaware, Miss Mary
Patterson of Ohio, niece of John C. Patterson of Dayton, Mrs. J. A. H.
Hopkins of New Jersey, Miss Eleanor Barker of Indiana, and Mrs. Mary
Darrow Weible of North Dakota,—the leaders—stayed at the gate,
determined to get results from the guard, while the women continued to
circle the White House.

“Will you not carry a message to the President’s Secretary asking him
to tell the President that we are here waiting to see him?”

“Can’t do that, Ma’am.”

“Will you then take our cards to the Secretary to the president, merely
announcing to him that we are here, so that he may send somebody to
carry in our resolutions?”

Still the guard hesitated. Finally he left the gate and carried the
message a distance of a few rods into the Executive offices. He had
scarcely got inside when he rushed back to his post. When we sought to
ascertain what had happened to the cards—had they been given and what
the answer was—he quietly confided to us that he had been reprimanded
for even attempting to bring them in and informed us that the cards
were still in his pocket. “I have orders to answer no questions and to
carry no messages. If you have anything to leave here you might take it
to the entrance below the Executive offices, and-when I go off my beat
at six o’clock I will leave it as I go by the White House.”

We examined this last entrance suggested. It, did not strike us as the
proper place to leave an important message for the President.

“What is this entrance used for?” I asked the guard.

“It’s all right, lady. If you’ve got something you’d like to leave,
leave it with me. It will be safe.”

I retorted that we were not seeking safety for our message, but speed
in delivery.

The guard continued: “This is the gate where Mrs. Wilson’s clothes and
other packages are left.”

It struck us as scarcely fitting that we should leave our resolutions
amongst “Mrs. Wilson’s clothes and other packages,” so we returned to
the last locked gate to ask the guard if he had any message in the
meantime for us. He shook his head regretfully.

Meanwhile the women marched and marched, and the rain fell harder and
as the afternoon wore on the cold seemed almost unendurable.

The white-haired grandmothers in the procession—there were some as old
as 84—were as energetic as the young girls of 20. What was this
immediate hardship compared to eternal subjection! Women marched and
waited—waited and marched, under the sting of the biting elements and
under the worse sting of the indignities heaped upon them. It was
impossible to believe that in democratic America they could not see the
President to lay before him their grievance.

It was only when they saw the Presidential limousine, in the late
afternoon, roll luxuriously out of the grounds, and through the gates
down Pennsylvania Avenue, that the weary marchers realized that
President Wilson had deliberately turned them away unheard!

The car for an instant, as it came through the gates, divided the
banner-bearers on march. President and Mrs. Wilson looked straight
ahead as if the long line of purple, white and gold were invisible.

All the women who took part in that march will tell you what was
burning in their hearts on that dreary day. Even if reasons had been
offered—and they were not—genuine reasons why the President could not
see them, it would not have cooled the women’s heat. Their passionate
resentment went deeper than any reason could possibly have gone.

This one single incident probably did more than any other to make women
sacrifice themselves. Even something as thin as diplomacy on the part
of President Wilson might have saved him many restless hours to follow,
but he did not take the trouble to exercise even that.

The women returned to headquarters and there wrote a letter which was
dispatched with the resolutions to President Wilson. In a letter to the
National Woman’s Party, acknowledging the receipt of them, he concluded
by saying: “May I not once more express my sincere interest in the
cause of woman suffrage?”

Three months of picketing had not been enough. We must not only
continue on duty at his gates but also, at the gates of Congress.




Chapter 2
The Suffrage War Policy


President Wilson called the War Session of the Sixty-fifth Congress on
April 2, 1917.

On the opening day of Congress not only were the pickets again on duty
at the White House, but another picket line was inaugurated at the
Capitol. Returning senators and congressmen were surprised when greeted
with great golden banners reading:

RUSSIA AND ENGLAND ARE ENFRANCHISING THEIR WOMEN IN WAR-TIME. HOW LONG
MUST AMERICAN WOMEN WAIT FOR THEIR LIBERTY


The last desperate flurries in the pro-war and anti-war camps were
focused on the Capitol grounds that day. There swarmed about the
grounds and through the buildings pacifists from all over the country
wearing white badges, and advocates of war, wearing the national
colors. Our sentinels at the Capitol stood strangely silent, and almost
aloof, strong in their dedication to democracy, while the peace and war
agitation circled about them.

With lightning speed the President declared that a state of war
existed. Within a fortnight following, Congress declared war on Germany
and President Wilson voiced his memorable, “We shall fight for the
things we have always carried nearest our hearts—for democracy—for the
right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own
government.” Inspiring words indeed! The war message concluded with
still another defense of the fight for political liberty: “To such a
task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are
and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the
day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her
might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the
peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she can do no less.”

Now that the United States was actually involved in war, we were face
to face with the question, which we had considered at the convention
the previous month, when war was rumored, as to what position we, as an
organization, should take in this situation.

The atmosphere of that convention had been dramatic in the extreme.
Most of the delegates assembled had been approached either before going
to Washington or upon arriving, and urged to use their influence to
persuade the organization to abandon its work for the freedom of women
and turn its activities into war channels. Although war was then only
rumored, the hysterical attitude was already prevalent. Women were
asked to furl their banners and give up their half century struggle for
democracy, to forget the liberty that was most precious to their
hearts.

“The President will turn this Imperialistic war into a crusade for
democracy.” . . . “Lay aside your own fight and help us crush Germany,
and you will find yourselves rewarded with a vote out of the nation’s
gratitude,” were some of the appeals made to our women by government
officials high and low and by the rank and file of men and women. Never
in history did a band of women stand together with more sanity and
greater solidarity than did these 1000 delegates representing thousands
more throughout the States.

As our official organ, _The Suffragist_, pointed out editorially, in
its issue of April 21st, 1917: Our membership was made up of women who
had banded together to secure political freedom for women. We were
united on no other subject. Some would offer passive resistance to the
war; others would become devoted followers of a vigorous military
policy. Between these, every shade of opinion was represented. Each was
loyal to the ideas which she held for her country. With the character
of these various ideals, the National Woman’s Party, we maintained, had
nothing to do. It was concerned only with the effort to obtain for
women the opportunity to give effective expression, through political
power, to their ideals, whatever they might be.

The thousand delegates present at the convention, though differing
widely on the duty of the individual in war, were unanimous in voting
that in the event of war, the National Woman’s Party, as an
organization, should continue to work for political liberty for women
and for that alone, believing as the convention stated in its
resolutions, that in so doing the organization “serves the highest
interest of the country.” They were also unanimous in the opinion that
all service which individuals wished to give to war or peace should be
given through groups organized for such purposes, and not through the
Woman’s Party, a body created, according to its constitution, for one
purpose only—“to secure an amendment to the United States Constitution
enfranchising women.”

We declared officially through our organ that this held “as the policy
of the Woman’s Party, whatever turn public events may take.”

Very few days after we were put upon a national war basis it became
clear that never was there greater need of work for internal freedom in
the country. Europe, then approaching her third year of war, was
increasing democracy in the midst of the terrible conflict. In America
at that very moment women were being told that no attempt at electoral
reform had any place in the country’s program “until the war is over.”
The Democrats met in caucus and decided that only “war measures” should
be included in the legislative program, and announced that no subjects
would be considered by them, unless the President urged them as war
measures.

Our task was, from that time on, to make national suffrage a war
measure.

We at once urged upon the Administration the wisdom of accepting this
proposed reform as a war measure, and pointed out the difficulty of
waging a war for democracy abroad while democracy was denied at home.
But the government was not willing to profit by the experience of its
Allies in extending suffrage to women, without first offering a
terrible and brutal resistance.

We must confess that the problem of dramatizing our fight for democracy
in competition with the drama of a world-war, was most perplexing. Here
were we, citizens without power and recognition, with the only weapons
to which a powerless class which does not take up arms can resort. We
could not and would not fight with men’s weapons. Compare the methods
women adopted to those men use in the pursuit of democracy,—bayonets,
machine guns, poison gas, deadly grenades, liquid fire, bombs, armored
tanks, pistols, barbed wire entanglements, submarines, mines—every
known scientific device with which to annihilate the enemy!

What did we do?

We continued to fight with our simple, peaceful, almost quaint device
-a banner. A little more fiery, perhaps; pertinent to the latest
political controversy, but still only a banner inscribed with militant
truth!

Just as our political strategy had been to oppose, at elections, the
party in power which had failed to use its power to free women, so now
our military strategy was based on the military doctrine of
concentrating all one’s forces on the enemy’s weakest point. To women
the weakest point in the Administration’s political lines during the
war was the inconsistency between a crusade for world democracy and the
denial of democracy at home. This was the untenable position of
President Wilson and the Democratic Administration, from which we must
force them to retreat. We could force such a retreat when we had
exposed to the world this weakest point.

Just as the bluff of a democratic crusade must be called, so must the
knight-leader of the crusade be exposed to the critical eyes of the
world. Here was the President, suddenly elevated to the position of a
world leader with the almost pathetic trust of the peoples of the
world. Here was the champion of their democratic aspirations. Here was
a kind of universal Moses, expected to lead all peoples out of
bondage—no matter what the bondage, no matter of how long standing.

The President’s elevation to this unique pinnacle of power was at once
an advantage and a disadvantage to us. It was an advantage to us in
that it made our attack more dramatic. One supposed to be impeccable
was more vulnerable. It was a disadvantage to have to overcome this
universal trust and world-wide popularity. But this conflict of wits
and brains against power only enhanced our ingenuity.

On the day the English mission headed by Mr. Balfour, and the French
mission headed by M. Viviani, visited the White House, we took these
inscriptions to the picket line:

WE SHALL FIGHT FOR THE THINGS WE HAVE ALWAYS CARRIED NEAREST OUR HEARTS
DEMOCRACY SHOULD BEGIN AT HOME
WE DEMAND JUSTICE AND SELF-GOVERNMENT IN OUR OWN LAND


Embarrassing to say these things before foreign visitors? We hoped it
would be. In our capacity to embarrass Mr. Wilson in his
Administration, lay our only hope of success. We had to keep before the
country the flagrant inconsistency of the President’s position. We
intended to know why, if democracy were so precious as to demand the
nation’s blood and treasure for its achievement abroad, its execution
at home was so undesirable.

Meanwhile:—

“I tell you solemnly, ladies and gentlemen, we cannot any longer
postpone justice in these United States”—President Wilson.

“I don’t wish to sit down and let any man take care of me without my at
least having a voice in it, and if he doesn’t listen to my advice, I am
going to make it as unpleasant as I can.”—President Wilson,—and other
challenges were carried on banners to the picket line.

Some rumblings of political action began to be heard. The Democratic
majority had appointed a Senate Committee on Woman Suffrage whose
members were overwhelmingly for federal action. The chairman, Senator
Andreas Jones of New Mexico, promised an early report to the Senate.
There were scores of gains in Congress. Representatives and Senators
were tumbling over each other to introduce similar suffrage
resolutions. We actually had difficulty in choosing the man whose name
should stamp our measure.

A minority party also was moved to act. Members of the Progressive
Party met in convention in St. Louis on April 12, 13 and 14 and adopted
a suffrage plank which demanded “the nation- wide enfranchisement of
women . . . .”

In addition to this plank they adopted a resolution calling for the
establishment of democracy at home “at a time when the United States is
entering into an international war for democracy” and instructing the
chairman of the convention “to request a committee consisting of
representatives of all liberal groups to go to Washington to present to
the President and the Congress of the United States a demand for
immediate submission of an amendment to the United States constitution
enfranchising women.”

They appointed a committee from the convention to carry these
resolutions to the President. The committee included Mr. J. A. H.
Hopkins of the Progressive Party, as chairman; Dr. E. A. Rumley of the
Progressive-Republican Party and Vice President of the New York Evening
Mail; Mr. John Spargo of the Socialist Party; Mr. Virgil Hinshaw,
chairman of the Executive Committee of the Prohibition Party; and Miss
Mabel Vernon, Secretary of the National Woman’s Party. It was the first
suffrage conference with the President after the declaration of war,
and was the last deputation on suffrage by minority party leaders. The
conference was one of the utmost informality and friendliness.

The President was deeply moved, indeed, almost to the point of tears,
when Miss Mabel Vernon said, “Mr. President, the feelings of many women
in this country are best expressed by your own words in your war
message to Congress . . . . To every woman who reads that message must
come at once this question: If the right of those who submit to
authority to have a voice in their own government is so sacred a cause
to foreign people as to constitute the reason for our entering the
international war in its defense, will you not, Mr. President, give
immediate aid to the measure before Congress demanding self-government
for the women of this country?”

The President admitted that suffrage was constantly pressing upon his
mind for reconsideration. He added, however, that the program for the
session was practically complete and intimated that it did not include
the enfranchisement of women.

He informed the Committee that he had written a letter to Mr. Pou,
Chairman of the Rules Committee of the House, expressing himself as
favoring the creation of a Woman Suffrage Committee in that body. While
we had no objection to having the House create a Suffrage Committee, we
were not primarily interested in the amplification of Congressional
machinery, unless this amplification was to be followed by the passage
of the amendment. The President could as easily have written the Senate
Committee on Suffrage or the Judiciary Committee of the House, advising
an immediate report on the suffrage resolution, as have asked for the
creation of another committee to report on the subject.

He made no mention of his state-by-state conviction, however, as he had
in previous interviews, and the Committee of Progressives understood
him to have at least tacitly accepted federal action.

The House Judiciary Committee continued to refuse to act and the House
Rules Committee steadily refused to create a Suffrage Committee.

Hoping to win back to the fold the wandering Progressives who had thus
demonstrated their allegiance to suffrage and seeing an opportunity to
embarrass the Administration, the, Republicans began to interest
themselves in action on the amendment. In the midst of Democratic
delays, Representative James R. Mann, Republican leader of the House,
moved to discharge the Judiciary Committee from further consideration
of the suffrage amendment. No matter if the discussion which followed
did revolve about the authorization of an expenditure of $10,000 for
the erection of a monument to a dead President as a legitimate war
measure. It was clear from the partisan attitude of those who took part
in the debate that we were advancing to that position where we were as
good political material to be contested over by opposing political
groups as was a monument to a dead President. And if the Democrats
could defend such an issue as a war measure, the Republicans wanted to
know why they should ignore suffrage for women as a war measure. And it
was encouraging to find ourselves thus suddenly and spontaneously
sponsored by the Republican leader.

The Administration was aroused. It did not know how far the Republicans
were prepared to go in their drive for action, so on the day of this
flurry in the House the snail-like Rules Committee suddenly met in
answer to the call of its chairman, Mr. Pou, and by a vote of 6 to 5
decided to report favorably on the resolution providing for a Woman
Suffrage Committee in the House “after all pending war measures have
been disposed of.”

Before the meeting, Mr. Pou made a last appeal to the Woman’s Party to
remove the pickets . . . . “We can’t possibly win as long as pickets
guard the White House and Capitol,” Mr. Pou had said. The pickets
continued their vigil and the motion carried.

Still uncertain as to the purposes of the Republicans, the Democrats
were moved to further action.

The Executive Committee of the Democratic National Committee, meeting
in Washington a few days later, voted 4 to 9. to “officially urge upon
the President that he call the two Houses of Congress together and
recommend the immediate submission of the Susan B. Anthony amendment.”
This action which in effect reversed the plank in the Democratic
platform evidently aroused protests from powerful quarters. Also the
Republicans quickly subsided when they saw the Democrats making an
advance. And so the Democratic Executive Committee began to spread
abroad the news that its act was not really official, but merely
reflected the “personal conviction” of the members present. It
extracted the official flavor, and so of course no action followed in
Congress.

And so it went—like a great game of chess. Doubtless the politicians
believed they were moved from their own true and noble motives. The
fact was that the pickets had moved the Democrats a step. The
Republicans had then attempted to take two steps, whereupon the
Democrats must continue to move more rapidly than their opponents.
Behind this matching of political wits by the two parties stood the
faithful pickets compelling them both to act.

Simultaneously with these moves and counter-moves in political circles,
the people in all sections of this vast country began to speak their
minds. Meetings were springing up everywhere, at which resolutions were
passed backing up the picket line and urging the President and Congress
to act. Even the South, the Administration’s stronghold, sent fiery
telegrams demanding action. Alabama, South Carolina, Texas, Maryland,
Mississippi, as well as the West, Middle West, New England and the
East—the stream was endless.

Every time a new piece of legislation was passed,—the war tax bill,
food conservation or what not,—women from unexpected quarters sent to
the Government their protest against the passage of measures so vital
to women without women’s consent, coupled with an appeal for the
liberation of women. Club women, college women, federations of
labor,—various kinds of organizations sent protests to the
Administration leaders. The picket line, approaching its sixth month of
duty, had aroused the country to an unprecedented interest in suffrage;
it had rallied widespread public support to the amendment as a war
measure, and had itself become almost univer- sally accepted if not
universally approved. And in the midst of picketing ands in spite of
all the prophecies and fears that “picketing” would “set back the
cause,” within one month, Michigan, Nebraska and Rhode Island granted
Presidential suffrage to women.

The leaders were busy marshaling their forces behind the President’s
war program, which included the controversial Conscription and
Espionage Bills, then pending, and did not relish having our question
so vivid in the public mind. Even when the rank and file of Congress
gave consideration to questions not in the war program, they had to
face a possible charge of inconsistency, insincerity or bad faith. The
freedom of Ireland, for example, was not in the program. And when 132
members of the House cabled Lloyd George that nothing would do more for
American enthusiasm in the war than a settlement of the Irish question,
we took pains to ascertain the extent of the belief in liberty at home
of these easy champions of Irish liberty. When we found that of the 132
men only 5’7 believed in liberty for American women, we were not
delicate in pointing out to the remaining “(5 that their belief in
liberty for Ireland would appear more sincere if they believed in a
democratic reform such as woman suffrage here.

The manifestations of popular approval of suffrage, the constant stream
of protests to the Administration against its delay nationally, and the
shame of having women begging at its gates, could result in only one of
two things. The Administration had little choice. It must yield to this
pressure from the people or it must suppress the agitation which was
causing such interest. It must pass the amendment or remove the
troublesome pickets.

It decided to remove the pickets.




Chapter 3
The First Arrests


The Administration chose suppression. They resorted to force in an
attempt to end picketing. It was a policy doomed to failure as
certainly as all resorts to force to kill agitation have failed
ultimately. This marked the beginning of the adoption by the
Administration of tactics from which they could never extricate
themselves with honor. Unfortunately for them they were entering upon
this policy toward women which savored of czarist practices, at the
very moment they were congratulating the Russians upon their liberation
from the oppression of a Czar. This fact supplied us with a fresh angle
of attack.

President Wilson sent a Mission to Russia to add America’s appeal to
that of the other Allies to keep that impoverished country in the war.
Such was our-democratic zeal to persuade Russia to continue the war and
to convince her people of its democratic purposes, and of the
democratic quality of America, that Elihu Root, one of the President’s
envoys, stated in Petrograd that he represented a republic where
“universal, direct, equal and secret suffrage obtained.” We subjected
the President to attack through this statement.

Russia also sent a war mission to our country for purposes of
coöperation. This occasion offered us the opportunity again to expose
the Administration’s weakness in claiming complete political democracy
while women were still denied their political freedom.

It was a beautiful June day when all Washington was agog with the visit
of the Russian diplomats to the President. As the car carrying the
envoys passed swiftly through the gates of the White House there stood
on the picket line two silent sentinels, Miss Lucy Burns of New York
and Mrs. Lawrence Lewis of Philadelphia, both members of the National
Executive Committee, with a great lettered banner which read:

TO THE RUSSIAN ENVOYS
PRESIDENT WILSON AND ENVOY ROOT ARE DECEIVING RUSSIA WHEN THEY SAY “WE
ARE A DEMOCRACY, HELP US WIN THE WORLD WAR SO THAT DEMOCRACY MAY
SURVIVE”
WE THE WOMEN OF AMERICA TELL YOU THAT AMER ICA IS NOT A DEMOCRACY.
TWENTY-MILLION AMERI’ CAN WOMEN ARE DENIED THE RIGHT TO VOTE. PRESI
DENT WILSON IS THE CHIEF OPPONENT OF THEIR NA TIONAL ENFRANCHISEMENT.
HELP US MAKE THIS NATION REALLY FREE. TELL OUR GOVERNMENT IT MUST
LIBERATE ITS PEOPLE BEFORE IT CAN CLAIM FREE RUSSIA AS AN ALLY.


Rumors that the suffragists would make a special demonstration before
the Russian Mission had brought a great crowd to the far gate of the
White House; a crowd composed almost entirely of men.

Like all crowds, this crowd had its share of hoodlums and roughs who
tried to interfere with the women’s order of the day. There was a
flurry of excitement over this defiant message of truth, but nothing
that could not with the utmost ease have been settled by one policeman.

There was the criticism in the press and on the lips of men that we
were embarrassing our Government before the eyes of foreign visitors.
In answering the criticism, Miss Paul publicly stated our position
thus: “The intolerable conditions against which we protest can be
changed in the twinkling of an eye. The responsibility for our protest
is, therefore, with the Administration and not with the women of
America, if the lack of democracy at home weakens the Administration in
its fight for democracy three thousand miles away.”

This was too dreadful. A flurry at the gates of the Chief of the nation
at such a time would never do. Our allies in the crusade for democracy
must not know that we had a day-by-day unrest at home. Something must
be done to stop this expose at once. Had these women no manners? Had
they no shame? Was the fundamental weakness in our boast of pure and
perfect democracy to be so wantonly displayed with impunity?

Of course it was embarrassing. We meant it to be. The truth must be
told at all costs. This was no time for manners.

Hurried conferences behind closed doors! Summoning of the military to
discuss declaring a military zone around the White House! Women could
not advance on drawn bayonets. And if they did . . . What a picture!
Common decency told the more humane leaders that this would never do. I
daresay political wisdom crept into the reasoning of others.

Closing the Woman’s Party headquarters was discussed. Perhaps a raid!
And all for what? Because women were holding banners asking for the
precious principle at home that men were supposed to be dying for
abroad.

Finally a decision was reached embodying the combined wisdom of all the
various conferees. The Chief of Police, Major Pullman, was detailed to
“request” us to stop “picketing” and to tell us that if we continued to
picket, we would be arrested._

“We have picketed for six months without interference,” said Miss Paul.
“Has the law been changed?”

“No,” was the reply, “but you must stop it.”

“But, Major Pullman, we have consulted our lawyers and know we have a
legal right to picket.”

“I warn you, you will be arrested if you attempt to picket again.”

The following day Miss Lucy Burns and Miss Katherine Morey of Boston
carried to the White House gates “We shall fight for the things we have
always held nearest our hearts, for democracy, for the right of those
who submit to authority to have a voice in their own government,” and
were arrested.

News had spread through the city that the pickets were to be arrested.
A moderately large crowd had gathered to see the “fun.” One has only to
come into conflict with prevailing authority, whether rightly or
wrongly, to find friendly hosts vanishing with lightning speed. To know
that we were no longer wanted at the gates of the White House and that
the police were no longer our “friends” was enough for the mob mind.

Some members of the crowd made sport of the women. Others hurled cheap
and childish epithets at them. Small boys were allowed to capture
souvenirs, shreds of the banners torn from non-resistant women, as
trophies of the sport.

Thinking they had been mistaken in believing the pickets were to be
arrested, and having grown weary of their strenuous sport, the crowd
moved on its way. Two solitary figures remained, standing on the
sidewalk, flanked by the vast Pennsylvania Avenue, looking quite
abandoned and alone, when suddenly without any warrant in law, they
were arrested on a completely deserted avenue.

Miss Burns and Miss Morey upon arriving at the police station,
insisted, to the great surprise of all the officials, upon knowing the
charge against them. Major Pullman and his entire staff were utterly at
a loss to know what to answer. The Administration had looked ahead only
as far as threatening arrest. They doubtless thought this was all they
would have to do. People could not be arrested for picketing. Picketing
is a guaranteed right under the Clayton Act of Congress. Disorderly
conduct? There had been no disorderly I conduct. Inciting to riot?
Impossible! The women had stood as silent sentinels holding the
President’s own eloquent words.

Doors opened and closed mysteriously. Officials and subofficials passed
hurriedly to and fro. Whispered conversations were heard. The book on
rules and regulations was hopefully thumbed. Hours passed. Finally the
two prisoners were pompously told that they had “obstructed the
traffic” on Pennsylvania Avenue, were dismissed on their own
recognizance, and never brought to trial.

The following day, June 23rd, more arrests were made; two women at the
White House, two at the Capitol. All carried banners with the same
words of the President. There was no hesitation this time. They were
promptly arrested for “obstructing the traffic.” They, too, were
dismissed and their cases never tried. It seemed clear that the
Administration hoped to suppress picketing merely by arrests. When.
however. women continued to picket in the face of arrest, the
Administration quickened its advance into the venture of suppression.
It decided to bring the offenders to trial.

On June 26, six American women were tried, judged guilty on the
technical charge of “obstructing the traffic,” warned by the court of
their “unpatriotic, almost treasonable behavior,” and sentenced to pay
a fine of twenty-five dollars or serve three days in jail.

“Not a dollar of your fine will we pay,” was the answer of the women.
“To pay a fine would be an admission of guilt. We are innocent.”

The six women who were privileged to serve the first terms of
imprisonment for suffrage in this country, were Miss Katherine Morey of
Massachusetts, Mrs. Annie Arneil and Miss Mabel Vernon of Delaware,
Miss Lavinia Dock of Pennsylvania, Miss Maud Jamison of Virginia, and
Miss Virginia Arnold of North Carolina. “Privileged” in spite of the
foul air, the rats, and the mutterings of their strange comrades in
jail!


Independence Day, July 4, 1917, is the occasion for two demonstrations
in the name of liberty. Champ Clark, late Democratic speaker of the
House, is declaiming to a cheering crowd behind the White House,
“Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the
governed.” In front of the White House thirteen silent sentinels with
banners bearing the same words, are arrested. It would have been
exceedingly droll if it had not been so tragic. Champ Clark and his
throng were not molested. The women with practically a deserted street
were arrested and served jail terms for “obstructing traffic.”

The trial of this group was delayed to give the jail authorities time
to “vacate and tidy up,” as one prisoner confided to Miss Joy Young. It
developed that “orders” had been received at the jail immediately after
the arrests and before the trial, “to make ready for the suffragettes.”
What did it matter that their case had not yet been heard? To jail they
must go.

Was not the judge who tried and sentenced them a direct appointee of
President Wilson? Were not the District Commissioners who gave orders
to prepare the cells the direct appointees of President Wilson? And was
not the Chief of Police of the District of Columbia a direct appointee
of these same commissioners? And was not the jail warden who made life
for the women so unbearable in prison also a direct appointee of the
commissioners?

It was all a merry little ring and its cavalier attitude toward the
law, toward justice, and above all toward women was of no importance.
The world was on fire with a grand blaze. This tiny flame would
scarcely be visible. No one would notice a few “mad” women thrown into
jail. And if the world should find it out, doubtless public opinion
would agree that the women ought to stay there. And even if it should
not agree, this little matter could all be explained away before
another election.

Meanwhile the President could proclaim through official channels his
disinterestedness. Observe the document, of which I give the substance,
which he caused or allowed to be published at this time, through his
Committee on Public Information.

“OFFICIAL BULLETIN”


“Published Daily under order of the President of the United States, by
the Committee on Public Information.

GEORGE CREEL, Chairman.


“Furnished without charge to all newspapers, post offices, government
officials and agencies of a public character for the dissemination of
official news of the United States Government.”


“Washington, July 3, 1917. No. 46-Vol. i.”


There follows a long editorial[1] which laments the public attention
which has centered on the militant campaign, appeals to editors and
reporters not to “encourage” us in our peculiar conduct by printing
defies to the President of the United States even when “flaunted on a
pretty little purple and gold banner” and exhorts the public to control
its thrills. The official bulletin concludes with:

“It is a fact that there remains in America one man who has known
exactly the right attitude to take and maintain toward the pickets. A
whimsical smile, slightly puckered at the roots by a sense of the
ridiculous, a polite bow—and for the rest a complete ignoring of their
existence. He happens to be the man around whom the little whirlwind
whirls—the President of the United States.” And finally with an
admonition that “the rest’ of the country … take example from him in
its emotional reaction to the picket question.”

[1] From the Woman Citizen.


The Administration pinned its faith on jail—that institution of
convenience to the oppressor when he is strong in power and his weapons
are effective. When the oppressor miscalculates the strength of the
oppressed, jail loses its convenience.




Chapter 4
Occoquan Workhouse


It is Bastille Day, July fourteenth. Inspiring scenes and tragic
sacrifices for liberty come to our minds. Sixteen women march in single
file to take their own “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity” to the White
House gates. It is the middle of a hot afternoon. A thin line of
curious spectators is seen in the park opposite the suffrage
headquarters. The police assemble from obscure spots; some afoot,
others on bicycles. They close in on the women and follow them to the
gates.

The proud banner is scarcely at the gates when the leader is placed
under arrest. Her place is taken by another. She is taken. Another, and
still another steps into the breach and is arrested.

Meanwhile the crowd grows, attracted to the spot by the presence of the
police and the patrol wagon. Applause is heard. There are cries of
“shame” for the police, who, I must say, did not always act as if they
relished carrying out what they termed “orders from higher up.” An
occasional hoot from a small boy served to make the mood of the hostile
ones a bit gayer. But for the most part an intense silence fell upon
the watchers, as they saw not only younger women, but whitehaired
grandmothers hoisted before the public gaze into the crowded patrol,
their heads erect, their eyes a little moist and their frail hands
holding tightly to the banner until wrested from them by superior brute
force.

This is the first time most of the women have ever seen a police
station, and they are interested in, their surroundings. They are not
interested in helping the panting policeman count them over and
identify them. Who arrested whom? That becomes the gigantic question.

“Will the ladies please tell which officer arrested them?”

They will not. They do not intend to be a party to this outrage.
Finally the officers abandon their attempt at identification. They have
the names of the arrestees and will accept bail for their appearance
Monday.

“Well girls, I’ve never seen but one other court in my life and that
was the Court of St. James. But I must say they are not very much
alike,” was the cheery comment of Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles,[1] as we
entered the court room on Monday.

[1] Mrs. Hilles is the daughter of the late Thomas Bayard, formerly
America’s ambassador to Great Britain, and Secretary of State in
President Cleveland’s cabinet.


The stuffy court room is packed to overflowing. The fat, one-eyed
bailiff is perspiring to no purpose. He cannot make the throng “sit
down.” In fact every one who has anything to do with the pickets
perspires to no purpose. Judge Mullowny takes his seat, looking at once
grotesque and menacing on his red throne.

“Silence in the court room,” from the sinister-eyed bailiff. And a
silence. follows so heavy that it can be heard.

Saturday night’s both black and white—are tried first. The suffrage
prisoners strain their ears to hear the pitiful pleas of these
unfortunates, most of whom come to the bar without counsel or friend.
Scraps of evidence are heard.

JUDGE: “You say you were not quarreling, Lottie?”

LOTTIE: “I sho’ do yo’ hono’. We wuz jes singin’—we wuz sho’ nuf, sah.”

JUDGE: “Singing, Lottie? Why your neighbors here testify to the fact
that you were making a great deal of noise—so much that they could not
sleep.”

LOTTIE: “I tells yo’ honor’ we wuz jes singin’ lak we allays do.”

JUDGE : “What were you singing?”

LOTTIE: “Why, hymns, sah.”

The judge smiles cynically.

A neatly-attired white man with a wizened face again takes the stand
against Lottie. Hymns or no hymns he could not sleep. The judge
pronounces a sentence of “six months in the workhouse,” for Lottie.

And so it goes on.

The suffrage prisoners are the main business of the morning. Sixteen
women come inside the railing which separates “tried” from “untried”
and take their seats.

“Do the ladies wish the government to provide them with counsel?”

They do not.

“We shall speak in our own behalf. We feel that we can best represent
ourselves,” we announce. Miss Anne Martin and I act as attorneys for
the group.

The same panting policemen who could not identify the people they had
arrested give their stereotyped, false and illiterate testimony. The
judge helps them over the hard places and so does the government’s
attorney. They stumble to an embarrassed finish and retire.

An aged government clerk, grown infirm in the service, takes the stand
and the government attorney proves through him that there is a White
House; that it has a side-walk in front of it, and a pavement, and a
hundred other overwhelming facts. The pathetic clerk shakes his dusty
frame and slinks off the stand. The prosecuting attorney now
elaborately proves that we walked, that we carried banners, that we
were arrested by the aforesaid officers while attempting to hold our
banners at the White House gates.

Each woman speaks briefly in her own defense. She denounces the
government’s policy with hot defiance. The blame is placed squarely at
the door of the Administration, and in unmistakable terms. Miss Anne
Martin opens for the defense:

“This is what we are doing with our banners before the White House,
petitioning the most powerful representative of the government, the
President of the United States, for a redress of grievances; we are
asking him to use his great power to secure the passage of the national
suffrage amendment.

“As long as the government and the representatives of the government
prefer to send women to jail on petty and technical charges, we will go
to jail. Persecution has always advanced the cause of justice. The
right of American women to work for democracy must be maintained . . .
. We would hinder, not help, the whole cause of freedom for women, if
we weakly submitted to persecution now. Our work for the passage of the
amendment must go on. It will go on.”

Mrs. John Rogers, Jr., descendant of Roger Sherman, one of the signers
of the Declaration of Independence, speaks: “We are not guilty of any
offence, not even of infringing a police regulation. We know full well
that we stand here because the President of the United States refuses
to give liberty to American women. We believe, your Honor, that the
wrong persons are before the bar in this Court . . . .”

“I object, your Honor, to this woman making such a statement here in
Court,” says the District Attorney.

“We believe the President is the guilty one and that we are innocent.”

“Your Honor, I object,” shouts the Government’s attorney.

The prisoner continues calmly: “There are votes enough and there is
time enough to pass the national suffrage amendment through Congress at
this session. More than 200 votes in the House and more than 50 in the
Senate are pledged to this amendment. The President puts his power
behind all measures in which he takes a genuine interest. If he will
say one frank word advocating this measure it will pass as a piece of
war emergency legislation.”

Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles speaks in her own defense: “For generations
the men of my family have given their services to their country. For
myself, my training from childhood has been with a father who believed
in democracy and who belonged to the Democratic Party. By inheritance
and connection I am a Democrat, and to a Democratic President I went
with my appeal . . . . What a spectacle it must be to the thinking
people of this country to see us urged to go to war for democracy in a
foreign land, and to see women thrown into prison who plead for that
same cause at home.

“I stand here to affirm my innocence of the charge against me. This
court has not proven that I obstructed traffic. My presence at the
White House gate was under the constitutional right of petitioning the
government for freedom or for any other cause. During the months of
January, February, March, April and May picketing was legal. In June it
suddenly becomes illegal . . . .

“My services as an American woman are being conscripted by order of the
President of the United States to help win the world war for democracy
. . . . ‘for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice
in their own government.’ I shall continue to plead for the political
liberty of American women-and especially do I plead to the President,
since he is the one person who . . . can end the struggles of American
women to take their proper places in a true democracy.”

There is continuous objection from the prosecutor, eager advice from
the judge, “you had better keep to the charge of obstructing traffic”
But round on round of applause comes from the intent audience, whenever
a defiant note is struck by the prisoners, and in spite of the sharp
rapping of the gavel confusion reigns. And how utterly puny the
“charge” is! If it were true that the prisoners actually obstructed the
traffic, how grotesque that would be. The importance of their demand,
the purity of their reasoning, the nobility and gentle quality of the
prisoners at the bar; all conspire to make the charge against them, and
the attorney who makes it, and the judge who hears it, petty and
ridiculous.

But justice must proceed.

Mrs. Gilson Gardner of Washington, D. C., a member of the Executive
Committee of the National Woman’s party, and the wife of Gilson
Gardner, a well-known Liberal and journalist, speaks:

“It is impossible for me to believe that we were arrested because we
were obstructing traffic or blocking the public high- way.

“We have been carrying on activities of a distinctly political nature,
and these political activities have seemingly disturbed certain
powerful influences. Arrests followed. I submit that these arrests are
purely political and that the charge of an unlawful assemblage and of
obstructing traffic is a political subterfuge. Even should I be sent to
jail which, I could not, your Honor, anticipate, I would be in jail,
not because I obstructed traffic, but because I have offended
politically, because I have demanded of this government freedom for
women.”

It was my task to sum up for the defense. The judge sat bored through
my statement. “We know and I believe the Court knows also,” I said,
“that President Wilson and his Administration are responsible for our
being here to-day. It is a fact that they gave the orders which caused
our arrest and appearance before this bar.

“We know and you know, that the District Commissioners are appointed by
the President, that the present commissioners were appointed by
President Wilson. We know that you, your Honor, were appointed to the
bench by President Wilson, and that the district attorney who
prosecutes us was appointed by the President. These various officers
would not dare bring us here under these false charges without the
policy having been decided upon by the responsible leaders.

“What is our real crime? What have these distinguished and
liberty-loving women done to bring them before this court of justice?
Why, your Honor, their crime is that they peacefully petitioned the
President of the United States for liberty. What must be the shame of
our nation before the world when it becomes known that here we throw
women into jail who love liberty and attempt to peacefully petition the
President for it? These women are nearly all descended from
revolutionary ancestors or from some of the greatest libertarian
statesmen this country has produced. What would these men say now if
they could see that passion for liberty which was in their own hearts
rewarded in the twentieth century with foul and filthy imprisonment!

“We say to you, this outrageous policy of stupid and brutal punishment
will not dampen the ardor of the women. Where sixteen of us face your
judgment to-day there will be sixty tomorrow, so great will be the
indignation of our colleagues in this fight.”

The trial came to an end after a tense two days. The packed court-room
fat in a terrible silence awaiting the judge’s answer.

There were distinguished men present at the trial—men who also fight
for their ideals. There was Frederic C. Howe, then Commissioner of
Immigration of the Port of New York, Frank P. Walsh, International
labor leader, Dudley Field Malone, then Collector of the Port of New
York, Amos Pinchot, liberal leader, John A. H. Hopkins, then
liberal-progressive leader in New Jersey who had turned his
organization to the support of the President and become a member of the
President’s Campaign Committee, now chairman of the Committee of
Fortyeight and whose beautiful wife was among the prisoners, Allen
McCurdy, secretary of the Committee of Forty-eight and many others. One
and all came forward to protest to us during the adjournment. “This is
monstrous.” . . . “Never have I seen evidence so disregarded.” . . .
“This is a tragic farce” . . .

“He will never dare sentence you.”

It was reported to us that the judge used the interim to telephone to
the District building, where the District Commissioners sit. He
returned to pronounce, “Sixty days in the workhouse in default of a
twenty-five dollar fine.”

The shock was swift and certain to all the spectators. We would not of
course pay the unjust fine imposed, for we were not guilty of any
offense.

The judge attempted persuasion. “You had better decide to pay your
fines,” he ventured. And “you will not find jail a pleasant place to
be.” It was clear that neither he nor his confreres had imagined women
would accept with equanimity so drastic a sentence. It was now their
time to be shocked. Here were “ladies”—that was perfectly
clear—“ladies” of unusual distinction. Surely they would not face the
humiliation of a workhouse sentence which involved not only
imprisonment but penal servitude! The Administration was wrong again.

“We protest against this unjust sentence and conviction,” we said, “but
we prefer the workhouse to the payment of a fine imposed for an offense
of which we are not guilty.” We filed into the “pen,” to join the other
prisoners, and wait for the “black maria” to carry us to prison.


We are all taken to the District Jail, where we are put through the
regular catechism: “Were you ever in prison
before?—Age—birthplace—father—mother—religion and what not?” We are
then locked up,—two to a cell. What will happen next?

The sleek jailer, whose attempt to be cordial provokes a certain
distrust, comes to our corridor to “turn us over” to our next
keeper-the warden of Occoquan. We learn that the workhouse is not
situated in the District of Columbia but in Virginia.

Other locked wagons with tiny windows up near the driver now take us,
side by side with drunks and disorderlies, prostitutes and thieves, to
the Pennsylvania Station. Here we embark for the unknown terrors of the
workhouse, filing through crowds at the station, driven on by our
“keeper,” who resembles Simon Legree, with his long stick and his
pushing and shoving to hurry us along. The crowd is quick to realize
that we are prisoners, because of our associates. Friends try to bid us
a last farewell and slip us a sweet or fruit, as we are rushed through
the iron station gates to the train.

Warden Whittaker is our keeper, thin and old, with a cruel mouth,
brutal eyes and a sinister birthmark on his temple. He guards very
anxiously his “dangerous criminals” lest they try to leap out of the
train to freedom! We chat a little and attempt to relax from the strain
that we have endured since Saturday. It is now late in the afternoon of
Tuesday.

The dusk is gathering. It is almost totally dark when we alight at a
tiny station in what seems to us a wilderness. It is a deserted
country. Even the gayest member of the party, I am sure, was struck
with a little terror here.

More locked wagons, blacker than the dusk, awaited us. The prison van
jolted and bumped along the rocky and hilly road. A cluster of lights
twinkled beyond the last hill, and we knew that we were coming to our
temporary summer residence. I can still see the long thin line of black
poplars against the smoldering afterglow. I did not know then what
tragic things they concealed.


We entered a well-lighted office. A few guards of ugly demeanor stood
about. Warden Whittaker consulted with the hard-faced matron, Mrs.
Herndon, who began the prison routine. Names were called, and each
prisoner stepped to the desk to get her number, to give up all jewelry,
money, handbags, letters, eye-glasses, traveling bags containing toilet
necessities, in fact everything except the clothes on her body.

From there we were herded into the long bare dining room where we sat
dumbly down to a bowl of dirty sour soup. I say dumbly—for now began
the rule of silence. Prisoners are punished for speaking to one another
at table. They cannot even whisper, much less smile or laugh. They must
be conscious always of their “guilt.” Every possible thing is done to
make the inmates feel that they are and must continue to be antisocial
creatures.

We taste our soup and crust of bread. We try so hard to eat it for we
are tired and hungry, but no one of us is able to get it down. We leave
the table hungry and slightly nauseated.

Another long march in silence through various channels into a large
dormitory and through a double line of cots! Then we stand, weary to
the point of fainting, waiting the next ordeal. This seemed to be the
juncture at which we lost all that is left us of contact with the
outside world,—our clothes.

An assistant matron, attended by negress prisoners, relieves us of our
clothes. Each prisoner is obliged to strip naked without even the
protection of a sheet, and proceed across what seems endless space, to
a shower bath. A large tin bucket stands on the floor and in this is a
minute piece of dirty soap, which is offered to us and rejected. We
dare not risk the soap used by so many prisoners. Naked, we return from
the bath to receive our allotment of coarse, hideous prison clothes,
the outer garments of which consist of a bulky mother-hubbard wrapper,
of bluish gray ticking and a heavy apron of the same dismal stuff. It
takes a dominant personality indeed to survive these clothes. The thick
unbleached muslin undergarments are of designs never to be forgotten!
And the thick stockings and forlorn shoes! What torture to put on shoes
that are alike for each foot and made to fit just anybody who may
happen along.

Why are we being ordered to dress? It is long past the bed-time hour.

Our suspense is brief. All dressed in cloth of “guilt” we are led into
what we later learn is the “recreation” room. Lined up against its
wall, we might any other time have bantered about the possibility of
being shot, but we are in no mood to jest. The door finally opens and
in strides Warden Whittaker with a stranger beside him.

He reviews his latest criminal recruits, engaging the stranger
meanwhile in whispered conversation. There are short, uncertain laughs.
There are nods of the head and more whispers.

“Well, ladies, I hope you are all comfortable. Now make yourselves at
home here. I think you will find it healthy here. You’ll weigh more
when you go out than when you came in. You will be allowed to write one
letter a month-to your family. Of course we open and read all letters
coming in and going out. To-morrow you will be assigned your work. I
hope you will sleep well. Good night!”

We did not answer. We looked at each other.

News leaked through in the morning that the stranger had been a
newspaper reporter. The papers next morning were full of the “comfort”
and “luxury” of our surroundings. The “delicious” food sounded most
reassuring to the nation. In fact no word of the truth was allowed to
appear.

The correspondent could not know that we went back to our cots to try
to sleep side by side with negro prostitutes. Not that we shrank from
these women on account of their color, but how terrible to know that,
the institution had gone out of its way to bring these prisoners from
their own wing to the white wing in an attempt to humiliate us. There
was plenty of room in the negro wing. But prison must be made so
unbearable that no more women would face it. That was the policy
attempted here.

We tried very hard to sleep and forget our hunger and weariness. But
all the night through our dusky comrades padded by to the lavatory, and
in the streak of bright light which shot across the center of the room,
startled heads could be seen bobbing up in the direction of a demented
woman in the end cot. Her weird mutterings made us fearful. There was
no sleep in this strange place.

Our thoughts turn to the outside world. Will the women care? Will
enough women believe that through such humiliation all may win freedom?
Will they believe that through our imprisonment their slavery will be
lifted the sooner? Less philosophically, will the government be moved
by public protest? Will such protest come?

The next morning brought us a visitor from suffrage headquarters. The
institution hoped that the visitor would use her persuasion to make us
pay our fines and leave and so she was admitted. We learned the
cheering news, that immediately after sentence had been pronounced by
the Court, Dudley Field Malone had gone direct to the White House to
protest to the President. His protest was delivered with heat. The
President said that he was “shocked” at the sixty day sentence, that he
did not know it had been done, and made other evasions. Mr. Malone’s
report of his interview with the President is given in full in a
subsequent chapter.

Following Mr. Malone, Mr. J. A. H. Hopkins went to the White House.
“How would you like to have your wife sleep in a dirty workhouse next
to prostitutes?” was his direct talk to the President. Again the
President was “shocked.” No wonder! Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins had been the
President’s dinner guests not very long before, celebrating his return
to power. They had supported him politically and financially in New
Jersey. Now Mrs. Hopkins had been arrested at his gate and thrown into
prison.

In reporting the interview, Mr. Hopkins said:

“The President asked me for suggestions as to what might be done, and I
replied that in view of the seriousness of the present situation the
only solution lay in immediate passage of the Susan B. Anthony
amendment.”

Gilson Gardner also went to the White House to leave his hot protest.
And there were others.

Telegrams poured in from all over the country. The press printed
headlines which could not but arouse the sympathy of thousands. Even
people who did not approve of picketing the White House said, “After
all, what these women have done is certainly not ‘bad’ enough to merit
such drastic punishment”

And women protested. From coast to coast there poured in at our
headquarters copies of telegrams sent to Administration leaders. Of
course not all women by any means had approved this method of
agitation. But the government’s action had done more than we had been
able to do for them. It had made them feel sex-conscious. Women were
being unjustly treated. Regardless of their feelings about this
particular procedure, they stood up and objected.

For the first time, I believe, our form of agitation began to seem a
little more respectable than the Administration’s handling of it. But
the Administration did not know this fact yet.


“Everybody in line for the work-room!”

We were thankful to leave our inedible breakfast. We were unable to
drink the greasy black coffee. The pain in the tops of our heads was
acute.

“What you all down here for?” asked a young negress, barely out of her
teens, as she casually fingered her sewing material.

“Why, I held a purple, white and gold banner at the gates of the White
House.”

“You don’ say so! What de odders do?”

“Same thing. We all held banners at the White House gates asking
President Wilson to give us the vote.”

“An’ yo’ all got sixty days fo’ dat?”

“Yes. You see the President thought it would be a good idea to send us
to the workhouse for asking for the vote. You know women want to vote
and have wanted to for a long time in our country”

“O-Yass’m, I know. I seen yo’ parades, an’ meetin’s, an’ everythin’. I
know whah yo’ all live, right near the White House. You’s alright. I
hopes yo’ git it, fo’ women certainly do need protextion against men
like Judge Mullowny. He has us allatime picked up an’ sen’ down here.

“They sen’ yo’ down here once, an’ then yo’ come out without a cent,
and try to look fo’ a job, an’ befo’ yo’ can fin’ one a cop walks up
an’ asks yo’ whah yo’ live, an’ ef yo’ haven’t got a place yet, becaus’
yo’ ain’ got a cent to ren’ one with, he says, ‘Come with me, I’ll fin’
yo’ a home,’ an’ hustles yo’ off to the p’lice station an’ down heah
again, an’ you’re called a 4vag’ (vagrant). What chance has we niggahs
got, I ask ya? I hopes yo’ all gits a vote an’ fixes up somethings for
women!”

“You see that young girl over there?” said another prisoner, who in
spite of an unfortunate life had kept a remnant of her early beauty. I
nodded.

“Well, Judge Mullowny gave her thirty days for her first offense, and
when he sentenced her, she cried out desperately, ‘Don’t send me down
there, Judge! If you do, I’ll kill myself!’ What do you think he said
to that?—‘I’ll give you six months in which to change your mind!’’

I reflected. The judge that broke this pale-faced, silent girl was the
appointee of the President. It was the task of such a man to sentence
American women to the workhouse for demanding liberty.

Conversing with the “regulars” was forbidden by the wardress, but we
managed, from time to time, to talk to our fellow prisoners with
stealthiness.

“We knew somethin’ was goin’ to happen,” said one negro girl, “because
Monday the close we had on wer’ took off us an’ we were giv’ these old
patched ones. We wuz told they wanted to take ‘stock,’ but we heard
they wuz bein’ washed fo’ you-all suff’agettes.”

The unpleasantness at wearing the formless garments of these
unfortunates made us all wince. But the government’s calculation
aroused our hot indignation. We were not convicted until Tuesday and
our prison garments were ready Monday!

“You must not speak against the President,” said the servile wardress,
when she discovered we were telling our story to the inmates. “You know
you will be thrashed if you say anything more about the President; and
don’t forget you’re on Government property and may be arrested for
treason if it happens again.”

We doubted the seriousness of this threat of thrashing until one of the
girls confided to us that such outrages happened often. We afterward
obtained proof of these brutalities.[1]

[1] See affidavit of Mrs. Bovee, page 144.


“Old Whittaker beat up that girl over there just last week and put her
in the ‘booby’ house on bread and water for five days.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

“Oh, she an’ another girl got to scrapping in the blackberry patch and
she didn’t pick enough berries. .”

“All put up your work, girls, and get in line.” This from the wardress,
who sped up the work in the sewing room. It was lunch time, and though
we were all hungry we dreaded going to the silence and the food in that
gray dining room with the vile odors. We were counted again as we filed
out, carrying our heavy chairs with us as is the workhouse custom.

“Do they do this all the time?” I asked. It seemed as though needless
energy was being spent counting and recounting our little group.

“Wouldn’t do anybody any good to try to get away from here,” said one
of the white girls. “Too many bloodhounds!”

“Bloodhounds!” I asked in amazement, for after all these women were not
criminals but merely misdemeanants.

“Oh, yes. Just a little while ago, three men tried to get away and they
turned bloodhounds after them and shot them dead-and they weren’t bad
men either.”


When our untasted supper was over that night we were ordered into the
square, bare-walled “recreation” room, where we and the other prisoners
sat, and sat, and sat, our chairs against the walls, a dreary sight
indeed, waiting for the fortyfive minutes before bedtime to pass. The
sight of two negro girl prisoners combing out each other’s lice and
dressing their kinky hair in such a way as to discourage permanently a
return of the vermin did not produce in us exactly a feeling of
“recreation.” But we tried to sing. The negroes joined in, too, and
soon outsang us, with their plaintive melodies and hymns. Then back to
our cells and another attempt to sleep.


A new ordeal the next morning! Another of the numberless “pedigrees” is
to be taken. One by one we were called to the warden’s office.

“Were your father or mother ever insane?”

“Are you a confirmed drunkard, chronic or moderate drinker?”

“Do you smoke or chew or use tobacco in any form?”

“Married or single?”

“Single.”

“How many children?”

“None.”

“What religion do you profess?”

“Christian.”

“What religion do you profess?” in a higher pitched voice.

I did not clearly comprehend. “Do you mean ‘Am I a Catholic or a
Protestant?’ I am a Christian.”

But it was of no avail. She wrote down, “None.”

I protested. “That is not accurate. I insist that I am a Christian, or
at least I try to be one.”

“You must learn to be polite,” she retorted almost fiercely, and I
returned to the sewing room.

For the hundredth time we asked to be given our toothbrushes, combs,
handkerchiefs and our own soap. The third day of imprisonment without
any of these essentials found us depressed and worried over our
unsanitary condition. We plead also for toilet paper. It was senseless
to deny these necessities. It is enough to imprison people. Why seek to
degrade them utterly?


The third afternoon we were mysteriously summoned into the presence of
Superintendent Whittaker. He seemed warm and cordial. We were ordered
drawn up in a semi-circle.

“Ladies, there is a rumor that you may be pardoned,” he began.

“By whom?” asked one.

“For what?” asked another. “We are innocent women. There is nothing to
pardon us for.”

“I have come to ask you what you would do if the President pardoned
you.”

“We would refuse to accept it,” came the ready response from several.

“I shall leave you for a while to consider this. Mind! I have not yet
received information of a pardon, but I have been asked to ascertain
your attitude.”

Our consultation was brief. We were of one mind. We were unanimous in
wishing to reject a pardon for a crime which we had never committed. We
said so with some spirit when Mr. Whittaker returned for our decision.

“You have no choice. You are obliged to accept a pardon.”

That settled it, and we waited. That the protest on the outside had
been strong enough to precipitate action from the government was the
subject of our conversation. Evidently it had not been strong enough to
force action on the suffrage amendment, but it was forcing action, and
that was important.

Mr. Whittaker returned triumphant.

“Ladies, you are pardoned by the President. You are free to go as soon
as you have taken off your prison clothes and put on your own.”

It was sad to leave the other prisoners behind. Especially pathetic
were the girls who helped us with our clothes. They whispered such
eager appeals in our ears, telling us of their drastic sentences for
trifling offenses and of the cruel punishments. It was hard to resist
digressing into some effort at prison reform. That way lay our
instincts. Our reason told us that we must first change the status of
women.

As we were leaving the workhouse to return to Washington we had an
unexpected revelation of the attitude of officialdom toward our
campaign. Addressing Miss Lucy Burns, who had arrived to assist us in
getting on our way, Superintendent Whittaker, in an almost unbelievable
rage, said, “Now that you women are going away, I have something to say
and I want to say it to you. The next lot of women who come here won’t
be treated with the same consideration that these women were.” I will
show later on how he made good this terrible threat.


Receiving a Presidential pardon through the Attorney General had its
amusing aspect. My comrades shared this amusement when I told them the
following incident.

On the day after our arrest, I was having tea at the Chevy Chase
Country Club in Washington. Quite casually a gentleman introduced me to
Mr. Gregory, the Attorney General.

“I see you were mixed up with the suffragettes yesterday,” was the
Attorney General’s first remark to the gentleman. And before the latter
could explain that he had settled accounts quietly but efficiently with
a hoodlum who was attempting to trip the women up on their march, the
chief law officer of the United States contributed this important
suggestion: “You know what I’d do if I was those policemen. I’d just
take a hose out with me and when the women came out with their banners,
why I’d just squirt the hose on ’em . . . .”

“But Mr. Gregory . . .”

“Yes, sir! If you can just make what a woman does look ridiculous, you
can sure kill it . . . .”

“But, Mr. Attorney General, what right would the police have to assault
these or any other women?” the gentleman managed finally to
interpolate.

“Hup—hup—” denoting great surprise, came from the Attorney General, as
he looked to me for reassurance.

His expectant look vanished when I said, “Mr. Gregory, did it ever
occur to you that it might make the government look ridiculous instead
of the women?”

You can imagine bow the easy manner of one who is sure of his audience
melted from his face.

“This is one of the women arrested yesterday,” continued the gentleman,
while the Attorney General smothered a “Well, I’ll be . . .”

“I am out on bail,” I said. “ To-morrow we go to jail. It is all
prearranged, you understand. The trial is merely a matter of form.”

The highest law officer of the land fled gurgling. s


The day following our release Mrs. J. A. H. Hopkins carried a picket
banner to the gates of the White House to test the validity of the
pardon. Her banner read, “We do not ask pardon for ourselves but
justice for all American women.” A curious crowd, as large as had
collected on those days when the police arrested women for “obstructing
traffic,” stood watching the lone picket. The President passed through
the gates and saluted. The police did not interfere.

Daily picketing was resumed and no arrests followed for the moment.

It was now August, three months since the Senate Suffrage Committee
authorized its chairman, Mr. Jones, to report the measure to the Senate
for action. Mr. Jones said, however, that he was too busy to make a
report; .that he wanted to make a particularly brilliant one, one that
would “be a contribution to the cause”; that he did not approve of
picketing, but that he would report the measure “in a reasonable time.”
So much for the situation in the Senate!

From the House we gathered some interesting evidence. We reminded Mr.
Webb, Chairman of the Judiciary Committee, that out of a total
membership of twenty-one men on his committee, twelve were Democrats,
two-thirds of whom were opposed to the measure; we reminded him that
the Republicans on the committee were for action. Mr. Webb wrote in
answer:

“The Democratic caucus passed a resolution that only war emergency
measures would be considered during this extra session, and that the
President might designate from time to time special legislation which
he regarded as war legislation, and such would be acted on by the
House. The President, not having designated woman suffrage and national
prohibition so far as war measures, the judiciary committee up to this
time has not felt warranted under the caucus rule, in reporting either
of these measures. If the President should request either or both of
them as war measures, then I think the Committee would attempt to take
some action on them promptly. _So you see after all it is important to
your cause to make the President see that woman suffrage comes within
the rules laid down._”[1]


[1] Italics are mine.


Here was a frank admission of the assumption upon which women had gone
to jail—that the President was responsible for action on the amendment.

Now that we were again allowed to picket the White House, the
Republicans seized the opportunity legitimately to embarrass their
opponents by precipitating a bitter debate.

Senator Cummins of Iowa, Republican member of the Suffrage Committee,
moved, as had Mr. Mann in the House at an earlier date, to discharge
the Suffrage Committee for failing to make the report authorized by the
entire Committee. Mr. Cummins said, among other things:

“. . . I look upon the resolution as definitely and certainly a war
measure. There is nothing that this country could do which would
strengthen it more than to give the disfranchised women . . . the
opportunity to vote . . . .

“Last week . . . I went to the Chairman of the Committee and told him
that . . . we had finished the hearings, reached a conclusion and that
it was our bounden duty to make the report to the Senate . . . . I
asked him if he would not call a meeting of the Committee. He said that
it would be impossible, that he had some other engagements which would
prevent a meeting of the Committee.”

Senator Cummins explained that he finally got the promise of the
Chairman that a meeting of the Committee would be called on a given
date. When it was not called he made his motion.

Chairman Jones made some feeble remarks and some evasive excuses which
meant nothing, and which only further aroused Republican friends of the
measure on the Committee.

Senator Gronna of North Dakota, Republican, interrupted him with the
direct question, “I ask the chairman of this committee why this joint
resolution has not been reported? The Senator, who is chairman of the
committee, I suppose, knows as well as I do that the people of the
entire country are anxious to have this joint resolution submitted and
to be given an opportunity to vote upon it.

Senator Johnson of California, Republican, proposed that Chairman Jones
consent to call the Committee together to consider reporting out the
bill, which Senator Jones flatly refused to do.

Senator Jones of Washington, another Republican member of the
Committee, added:

“I agree with the Senator from Iowa that this is a war measure and
ought to be considered as such at this time. I do not see how we can
very consistently talk democracy while disfranchising the better half
of our citizenship—I may not approve of the action of the women
picketing the White House, but neither do I approve of what I consider
the lawless action toward these women in connection with the picketing
. . . .”

“I do not want to think the chairman does not desire to call the
committee together because of some influence outside of Congress as
some have suggested . . . .”

At this point Senator Hollis of New Hampshire, Democrat, arose to say:

“There is a small but very active group of women suffragists who have
acted in such a way that some who are ardently in favor of woman
suffrage believe that their action should not be encouraged by making a
favorable report at this time.”

Senator Johnson protested at this point, but Senator Hollis continued:

“To discharge the committee would focus the attention of the country
upon the action and would give undue weight to what has been done by
the active group of woman suffragists.”

I think that any student of psychology will acknowledge that our
picketing had stimulated action in Congress, and that what was now
needed was some still more provocative action from us.




Chapter 5
August Riots


Imprisoning women had met with considerable public disapproval, and
attendant political embarrassment to the Administration. That the
presidential pardon would end this embarrassment was doubtless the hope
of the Administration. The pickets, however, returned to their posts in
steadily increasing numbers. Their presence at the gates was desired by
the Administration no more now than it had been before the arrests and
imprisonments. But they had found no way to rid themselves of the
pickets. And as another month of picketing drew to an end the
Administration ventured to try other ways to stop it and with it the
consequent embarrassment. Their methods became physically more brutal
and politically more stupid. Their conduct became lawless in the
extreme.

Meanwhile the President had drafted the young men of America in their
millions to die on foreign soil for foreign democracy. He had issued a
special appeal to women to give their work, their treasure and their
sons to this enterprise. At the same time his now gigantic figure stood
obstinately across the path to our main objective. It was our daily
task to keep vividly in his mind that objective. It was our
responsibility to compel decisive action from him.

Using the return of Envoy Root from his mission to Russia as another
dramatic opportunity to speak to the President we took to the picket
line these mottoes:

TO ENVOY ROOT


YOU SAY THAT AMERICA MUST THROW ITS MANHOOD TO THE SUPPORT OF LIBERTY.

WHOSE LIBERTY?
THIS NATION IS NOT FREE. TWENTY MILLION WOMEN ARE DENIED BY THE
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES THE RIGHT TO REPRESENTATION IN THEIR OWN
GOVERNMENT.

TELL THE PRESIDENT THAT HE CANNOT FIGHT AGAINST LIBERTY AT HOME WHILE
HE TELLS US TO FIGHT FOR LIBERTY ABROAD.

TELL HIM TO MAKE AMERICA SAFE FOR DEMOCRACY BEFORE HE ASKS THE MOTHERS
OF AMERICA TO THROW THEIR SONS TO THE SUPPORT OF DEMOCRACY IN EUROPE.

ASK HIM HOW HE CAN REFUSE LIBERTY TO AMERICAN CITIZENS WHEN HE IS
FORCING MILLIONS OF AMERICAN BOYS OUT OF THEIR COUNTRY TO DIE FOR
LIBERTY.


At no time during the entire picketing was the traffic on Pennsylvania
Avenue so completely obstructed as it was for the two hours during
which this banner made its appearance on the line. Police captains who
three weeks before were testifying that the police could not manage the
crowds, placidly looked on while these new crowds increased.

We did not regard Mr. Wilson as our President. We felt that he had
neither political nor moral claim to our allegiance. War had been made
without our consent. The war would be finished and very likely a bad
peace would be written without our consent. Our fight was becoming
increasingly difficult—I might almost say desperate. Here we were, a
band of women fighting with banners, in the midst of a world armed to
the teeth. And so it was not very difficult to understand how high
spirited women grew more resentful, unwilling to be a party to the
President’s hypocrisy, the hypocrisy so eager to sacrifice life without
stint to the vague hope of liberty abroad, while refusing to assist in
the peaceful legislative steps which would lead to self-government in
our own country. As a matter of fact the President’s constant oratory
on freedom and democracy moved them to scorn. They were stung into a
protest so militant as to shock not only the President but the public.
We inscribed on our banner what countless American women‘ had long
thought in their hearts.

The truth was not pleasant but it had to be told. We submitted to the
world, through the picket line, this question:

KAISER WILSON
HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW YOU SYMPATHIZED WITH THE POOR GERMANS BECAUSE
THEY WERE NOT SELF GOVERNED?
20,000,000 AMERICAN WOMEN ARE NOT SELF-GOVERNED. TAKE THE BEAM OUT OF
YOUR OWN EYE.


We did not expect public sympathy at this point. We knew that not even
the members of Congress who had occasionally in debate, but more
frequently in their cloak rooms, and often to us privately, called the
President “autocrat”—“Kaiser”—“Ruler”—“King”—“Czar”—would approve our
telling the truth publicly.

Nor was it to be expected that eager young boys, all agog to fight
Germans, would be averse to attacking women in the meantime. They were
out to fight and such was the public hysteria that it did not exactly
matter whom they fought.

And so those excited boys of the Army and Navy attacked the women and
the banner. The banner was destroyed. Another was brought up to take
its place. This one met the same fate. Meanwhile a crowd was assembling
in front of the White House either to watch or to assist in the
attacks. At the very moment when one banner was being snatched away and
destroyed, President and Mrs. Wilson passed through the gates on their
way to a military review at Fort Myer. The President saw American women
being attacked, while the police refused them protection.

Not a move was made by the police to control the growing crowd. Such
inaction is always a signal for more violence on the part of rowdies.
As the throng moved to and fro between the White House and our
Headquarters immediately opposite, so many banners were destroyed that
finally Miss Lucy Burns, Miss Virginia Arnold and Miss Elizabeth
Stuyvesant took those remaining to the second and third floor balconies
of our building and hung them out. At this point there was not a picket
left on the street. The crowd was clearly obstructing the traffic, but
no attempt was made to move them back or to protect the women, some of
whom were attacked by sailors on their own doorsteps. The two police
officers present watched without interference while three sailors
brought a ladder from the Belasco Theater in the same block, leaned it
against the side of the Cameron House, the Headquarters, climbed up to
the second floor balcony, mounted the iron railing and tore down all
banners and the American flag. One sailor administered a severe blow in
the face with his clenched fist upon Miss Georgina Sturgis of
Washington.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

The man halted for a brief instant in obvious amazement and said, “I
don’t know.” And with a violent wrench he tore the banner from her
hands and ran down the ladder.

The narrow balcony was the scene of intense excitement.

But for Miss Burns’ superb strength she would have been dragged over
the railing of the balcony to be plunged to the ground. The mob watched
with fascination while she swayed to and fro in her wrestle with two
young sailors. And still no attempt by the police to quell the riot!

The climax came when in the late afternoon a bullet was fired through
one of the heavy glass windows of the second floor, embedding itself in
the ceiling. The bullet grazed past the head of Mrs. Ella Morton Dean
of Montana. Captain Flather of the 1st Precinct, with two detectives,
later examined the holes and declared they had been made by a 38
caliber revolver, but no attempt was ever made to find the man who had
drawn the revolver.

Meanwhile eggs and tomatoes were hurled at our fresh banners flying
from the flag poles on the building.

Finally police reserves were summoned and in less than five minutes the
crowd was pushed back and the street cleared. Thinking now that they
could rely on the protection of the police, the women started with
their banners for the White House. But the police looked on while all
the banners were destroyed, a few paces from Headquarters. More banners
,went out,—purple, white and gold ones. They, too, were destroyed
before they reached the White House.

This entire spectacle was enacted on August 14, within a stone’s throw
of the White House.

Miss Paul summed up the situation when she said:

“The situation now existing in Washington exists because President
Wilson permits it. Orders were first handed down to the police to
arrest suffragists. The clamor over their imprisonments made this
position untenable. The police were then ordered to protect
suffragists. They were then ordered to attack suffragists. They have
now been ordered to encourage irresponsible crowds to attack
suffragists. No police head would dare so to besmirch his record
without orders from his responsible chief. The responsible chief in the
National Capital is the President of the United States.”

Shortly after the incident of the “Kaiser banner” I was speaking in
Louisville, Kentucky. The auditorium was packed and overflowing with
men and women who had come to hear the story of the pickets.

Up to this time we had very few members in Kentucky and had anticipated
in this Southern State, part of President Wilson ,’s stronghold, that
our Committee would meet with no enthusiasm and possibly with warm
hostility.

I had related briefly the incidents leading up to the picketing and the
Government’s suppressions. I was rather cautiously approaching the
subject of the “Kaiser banner,” feeling timid and hesitant, wondering
how this vast audience of Southerners would take it. Slowly I read the
inscription on the famous banner, “Kaiser Wilson, have you forgotten
how you sympathized with the poor Germans because they were not
self-governed? Twenty million American women are not self-governed.
Take the beam out of your own eye.”

I hardly reached the last word, still wondering what the, intensely
silent audience would do, when a terrific outburst of applause mingled
with shouts of “Good! Good! He is, he is!” came to my amazed ears. As
the applause died down there was almost universal good-natured
laughter. Instead of the painstaking and eloquent explanation which I
was prepared to offer, I had only to join in their laughter.

A few minutes later a telegram was brought to the platform announcing
further arrests. I read:

“Six more women sentenced to-day to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.”


Instant cries of “Shame! Shame! It’s an outrage!” Scores of men and two
women were on their feet calling for the passage of a resolution
denouncing the Administration’s policy of persecution. The motion of
condemnation was put. It seemed as if the entire audience seconded it.
It went through instantly, unanimously, and again with prolonged shouts
and applause.

The meeting continued and I shall never forget that audience. It
lingered to a late hour, almost to midnight, asking questions, making
brief “testimonials” from the floor with almost evangelical fervor.
Improvised collection baskets were piled high with bills. Women
volunteered for picket duty and certain imprisonment, and the following
day a delegation left for Washington.

I cite this experience of mine because it was typical. Every one who
went through the country telling the story had similar experiences at
this time. Indignation was swift and hot. Our mass meetings everywhere
became meetings of protest during the entire campaign.

And resolutions of protest which always went immediately by wire from
such meetings to the President, his cabinet and to his leaders in
Congress, of course created increasing uneasiness in Democratic
circles.

On August 15th the pickets again attempted to take their posts on the
line.

On this day one lettered banner and fifty purple, white and gold flags
were destroyed by a mob led by sailors in uniform. Alice Paul was
knocked down three times by a sailor in uniform and dragged the width
of the White House sidewalk in his frenzied attempt to tear off leer
suffrage sash.

Miss Katharine Morey of Boston was also knocked to the pavement by a
sailor, who took her flag and then darted off into the crowd. Miss
Elizabeth Stuyvesant was struck by a soldier in uniform and her blouse
torn from her body. Miss Maud Jamison of Virginia was knocked down and
dragged along the sidewalk. Miss Beulah Amidon of North Dakota was
knocked down by a sailor.

In the midst of these riotous scenes, a well-known Washington
correspondent was emerging from the White House, after an interview
with the President. Dr. Cart’ Grayson, the President’s physician,
accompanying him to the door, advised:

“You had better go out the side entrance. Those damned women are in the
front.”

In spite of this advice the correspondent made his exit through the
same gate by which he had entered, and just in time to ward off an
attack by a sailor on one of the frailest girls in the group.

The Administration, in its desperation, ordered the police to
lawlessness. On August 16th, fifty policemen led the mob in attacking
the women. Hands were bruised and arms twisted lit’ police officers and
plainclothes men. Two civilians who tried to rescue the women from the
attacks of the police were arrested. The police fell upon these young
women with more brutality even than the mobs they had before
encouraged. Twenty-five lettered banners and 123 Party flags were
destroyed by mobs and police on this afternoon.

As the crowd grew more dense, the police temporarily retired from the
attack. When their activities had summoned a sufficiently large and
infuriated mob, they would rest. And so the passions of the mob
continued unchecked upon these irrepressible women, and from day to day
the Administration gave its orders.

Finding that riots and mob attacks had not terrorized the pickets, the
Administration decided again to arrest the women in the hope of ending
the agitation. Having lost public sympathy through workhouse sentences,
having won it back by pardoning the women, the Administration felt it
could afford to risk losing it again, or rather felt that it had
supplied itself with an appropriate amount of stage-setting.

And so on the third day of the riotous attacks, when it was clear that
the pickets would persist, the Chief of Police called at headquarters
to announce to Miss Paul that “orders have been changed and henceforth
women carrying banners will be arrested”

Meanwhile the pickets heard officers shout to civilian friends as they
passed—“Come back at four o’clock.”

Members of the daily mob announced at the noon hour in various nearby
restaurants that “the suffs will be arrested to-day at 4 o’clock.”

Four o’clock is the hour the Government clerks begin to swarm
homewards. The choice of this hour by the police to arrest the women
would enable them to have a large crowd passing the White House gates
to lend color to the fiction that “pickets were blocking the traffic.”

Throughout the earlier part of the afternoon the silent sentinels stood
unmolested, carrying these mottoes:

ENGLAND AND RUSSIA ARE ENFRANCHISING WOMEN IN WAR-TIME.


HOW LONG MUST WOMEN WAIT FOB LIBERTY?


THE GOVERNMENT ORDERS OUR BANNERS DESTROYED BECAUSE THEY TELL THE
TRUTH.


At four o’clock the threatened arrests took place. The women arrested
were Miss Lavinia Dock of Pennsylvania, Miss Edna Dixon of Washington,
D. C., a young public school teacher; Miss Natalie Gray of Colorado,
Mrs. Win. Upton Watson and Miss Lucy Ewing of Chicago, and Miss
Catherine Flanagan of Connecticut.

Exactly forty minutes were allowed for the trial of these six women.
One police officer testified that they were “obstructing traffic.”

None of the facts of the hideous and cruel manhandling by the mobs and
police officers was allowed to be brought out. Nothing the women could
say mattered. The judge pronounced : “Thirty days in Occoquan workhouse
in lieu of a $10.00 fine.”

And so this little handful of women, practically all of them tiny and
frail of physique, began the cruel sentence of 30 days in the
workhouse, while their cowardly assailants were not even reprimanded,
nor were those who destroyed over a thousand dollars’ worth of banners
apprehended.

The riots had attracted sufficient attention to cause some anxiety in
Administration circles. Protests against us and others against the
rioters pressed upon them. Congress was provoked into a little
activity; activity which reflected some doubt as to the wisdom of
arresting women without some warrant in law.

Two attempts were made, neither of which was successful, to give the
Administration more power and more law.

Senator Culberson of Texas, Democrat, offered a bill authorizing
President Wilson at any time to prohibit any person from approaching or
entering any place—in short blanket authority granting the President or
his officials limitless power over the actions of human beings.
Realizing that this could be used to prohibit picketing the White House
we appeared before a committee hearing on the bill and spoke against
it. The committee did not have the boldness to report such a bill.

Senator Myers of Montana, an influential member of the Democratic
majority, introduced into the Senate a few days later a resolution
making it illegal to picket the White House. The shamelessness of
admitting to the world that acts for which women had been repeatedly
sentenced to jail, and for which women were at that moment lying in
prison, were so legal as to make necessary a special act of Congress
against them, was appalling. The Administration policy seemed to be
“Let us put women in jail first—let us enact a law to keep them there
afterwards,”

This tilt between Senator Brandegee, of Connecticut, antisuffrage
Republican, and Senator Myers, suffrage Democrat, took place when Mr.
Myer’s presented his bill:

MR. BRANDEGEE: . . . Was there any defect in the legal proceedings by
which these trouble makers were sentenced and put in jail a few weeks
ago?

MR. MYERS: None that I know of. I am not in a position to pass upon
that. I do not believe any was claimed . . . .

MR. BRANDEGEE: Inasmuch as the law was sufficient to land them in jail
. . . I fail to see why additional legislation is necessary on the
subject.

MR. MYERS: There seems to be a doubt in the mind of some whether the
present law is sufficient and I think it ought to be put beyond doubt.
I think . . . the laws are not stringent or severe enough . . . .

MR. BRANDEGEE : They were stringent enough to land the malefactors in
jail . . . .

In spite of Senator Myers’ impassioned appeal to his colleagues, be was
unable to command any support for his bill. I quote this from his
speech in the Senate August 18, 1917:

MR. MYERS: Mr. President, I wish to say a few words about the bill I
have just introduced. It is intended for the enactment of better and
more adequate legislation to prevent the infamous, outrageous,
scandalous, and, I think, almost treasonable actions that have been
going on around the White House for months past, which President of the
United States have been a gross insult to the and to the people of the
United States; I mean the so-called picketing of the White House. . .
These disgusting proceedings have been going on for months, and if
there is no adequate law to stop them, I think there ought to be.

“I believe the President, in the generosity of his heart, erred when he
pardoned some of the women who have been conducting these proceedings,
after they had been sentenced to 60 days in the workhouse. I believe
they deserved the sentence, and they ought to have been compelled to
serve it . . . .

“I for one am not satisfied longer to sit here idly day by day and
submit to having the President of the United States insulted with
impunity before the people of the country and before all the world. It
is a shame and reproach.

“I hope this bill . . . will receive careful consideration and that it
may be enacted into law and may be found an adequate preventive and
punishment for such conduct.”

This bill, which died a well-deserved death, is so amusing as to
warrant reproduction. Although lamenting our comparison between the
President and the Kaiser, it will be seen that Senator Myers brought
forth a thoroughly Prussian document:

A BILL


For the better protection and enforcement of peace and order and the
public welfare in the District of Columbia.

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives o f the United
States o f America in Congress assembled, That when the United States
shall be engaged in war it shall be unlawful for any person or persons
to carry, hold, wave, exhibit, display, or have in his or her
possession in any public road, highway, alley, street, thoroughfare,
park, or other public place in the District of Columbia, any banner,
flag, streamer, sash, or other device having thereon any words or
language with reference to the President or the Vice President of the
United States, or any words or language with reference to the
Constitution of the United States, or the right of suffrage, or right
of citizenship, or any words or language with reference to the duties
of any executive official or department of the United States, or with
reference to any proposed amendment to the Constitution of the United
States, or with reference to any law or proposed law of the United
States, calculated to bring the President of the United States or the
Government of the United States into contempt, or which may tend to
cause confusion, or excitement, or obstruction of the streets or
sidewalks thereof, or any passage in any public place.

Sec. 2. That any person committing any foregoing described offense
shall, upon conviction thereof, for each offense be fined not less than
$100 nor more than $1,000 or imprisoned not less than thirty days nor
more than one year, or by both such fine and imprisonment.

Voices were raised in our behalf, also, and among them I note the
following letter written to Major Pullman by Gilson Gardner:[1]

[1] The distinguished journalist who went to Africa to meet Theodore
Roosevelt and accompanied him on his return journey to America.


Mr. Raymond Pullman,
Chief of Police,
Washington, D. C.


My dear Pullman,—


I am writing as an old friend to urge you to get right in this matter
of arresting the suffrage pickets. Of course the only way for you to
get right is to resign. It has apparently become impossible for you to
stay in office and do your duty. The alternative is obvious.

You must see, Pullman, that you cannot be right in what you have done
in this matter. You have given the pickets adequate protection; but you
have arrested them and had them sent to jail and the workhouse; you
have permitted the crowd to mob them, and then you have had your
officers do much the same thing by forcibly taking their banners from
them. In some of the actions you must have been wrong. If it was right
to give them protection and let them stand at the White House for five
months, both before and after the war, it was not right to do what you
did later.

You say that it was not right when you were “lenient” and gave them
protection. You cannot mean that. The rightness or wrongness must be a
matter of law, not of personal discretion, and for you to attempt to
substitute your discretion is to set up a little autocracy m place of
the settled laws of the land. This would justify a charge of
“Kaiserism” right here in our capital city.

The truth is, Pullman, you were right when you gave these women
protection. That is what the police are for. When there are riots they
are supposed to quell them, not by quelling the “proximate cause,” but
by quelling the rioters.

I know your police officers now quite well and know that they are most
happy when they are permitted to do their duty. They did not like the
dirty business of permitting a lot of sailors and street rifraff to
rough the girls. All that went against the grain, but when you let them
protect the pickets, as you did March third, when a thousand women
marched around and around the White House, the officers were as
contented as they were efficient.

Washington has a good police force and there has never been a minute
when they could not have scattered any group gathered at the White
House gates and given perfect protection to the women standing there.

You know why they did not do their duty.

In excusing what you have done, you say that the women carried banners
with “offensive” inscriptions on them. You refer to the fact that they
have addressed the President as “Kaiser Wilson.” As a matter of fact
not an arrest you have made—and the arrests now number more than
sixty—has been for carrying one of those “offensive” banners. The women
were carrying merely the suffrage colors or quotations from President
Wilson’s writings.

But, suppose the banners were offensive. Who made you censor of
banners? The law gives you no such power. Even when you go through the
farce of a police court trial the charge is “obstructing traffic”;
which shows conclusively that you are not willing to go into court on
the real issue.

No. As Chief of Police you have no more right to complain of the
sentiments of a banner than you have of the sentiments in an editorial
in the Washington Post, and you have no more right to arrest the
banner-bearer than you have to arrest the owner of the Washington Post
. . . . Congress refused to pass a press censorship law. There are
certain lingering traditions to the effect that a people’s liberties
are closely bound up with the right to talk things out and those who
are enlightened know that the only proper answer to words is words.
When force is opposed to words there is ground for the charge of
“Kaiserism.” . .

There was just one thing for you to have done, Pullman, and that was to
give full and adequate protection to these women, no matter what
banners they carried or what ideas their banners expressed. If there is
any law that can be invoked against the wording of the banners it was
the business of others in the government to start the legal machinery
which would abate them. It was not lawful to abate them by mob
violence, or by arrests. And if those in authority over you were not
willing that you thus do your duty, it was up to you to resign.

After all it would not be such a terrible thing, Pullman, for you to
give up being Chief of Police, particularly when you are not permitted
to be chief of police, but must yield your judgment to the district
commissioners who have yielded their judgment to the White House. Being
Chief of Police under such circumstances can hardly be worth while. You
are a young man and the world is full of places for young men with
courage enough to save their self- respect at the expense of their
jobs. You did that once,-back in the Ballinger-Pinchot days. Why not
now?

Come out and help make the fight which must be made to recover and
protect the liberties which are being filched from us here at home.
There is a real fight looming up for real democracy. You will not be
alone. There are a lot of fine young men, vigorous and patriotic, in
and out of the Administration who are preparing for this fight. Yours
will not be the only resignation. But why not be among the first? Don’t
wait. Let them have your resignation. now and let me be the first to
welcome and congratulate you.

Sincerely,
(Signed) GILSON GARDNER.


Representative John Baer of North Dakota, having witnessed for himself
the riotous scenes, immediately introduced into the House a
resolution[1] demanding an investigation of conditions in the Capital
which permitted mobs to attack women. This, too, went to certain death.
Between the members who did not dare denounce the Administration and
the others who did dare denounce the women, we had to stand quite
solidly on our own program, and do our best to keep them nervous over
the next step in the agitation.

[1] See Appendix 3 for full text of resolution.


The press throughout the entire country at this time protested against
mob violence and the severe sentences pronounced upon the women who had
attempted to hold their banners steadfast.

The Washington (D. C.) Herald, August 19, printed the following
editorial:

There is an echo of the President’s phrase about the “firm hand of
stern repression” in the arrest, conviction and jailing of the six
suffragists; a touch of ruthlessness in their incarceration at Occoquan
along with women of the street, pickpockets and other flotsam and
jetsam. Still, the suffragists are not looking for sympathy, and it
need not be wasted upon them.

The police have arrived at a policy, although no one knows whether it
will be sufficiently stable and consistent to last out the week . . . .
Washington is grateful that the disgraceful period of rioting and mob
violence in front of the White House is at an end, and another crisis
in the militant crusade to bring the Susan B. Anthony amendment before
Congress has been reached.

What is the next step? No one knows. Picketing doubtless will continue,
or an effort will be made to continue it; and militancy, if the police
continue to arrest, instead of giving the women protection, will pass
into a new phase. The suffragists as well as the public at large are
thankful that the police department has finally determined to arrest
the pickets, instead of allowing them to be mobbed by hoodlums .

. . . The public eye will be on Occoquan for the next few weeks, to
find out how these women bear up under the Spartan treatment that is in
store for them. If they have deliberately sought martyrdom, as some
critics have been unkind enough to suggest, they have it now. And if
their campaign, in the opinion of perhaps the great majority of the
public, has been misguided, admiration for their pluck will not be
withheld.

The Boston Journal of August 20, 1917, said in an editorial written by
Herbert N. Pinkham, Jr.:

That higher authorities than the Washington police were responsible for
the amazing policy of rough house employed against the suffrage pickets
has been suspected from the very beginning. Police power in Washington
is sufficient to protect a handful of women against a whole phalanx of
excited or inspired government clerks and uniformed hoodlums, if that
power were used.

. . . In our nation’s capital, women have been knocked down and dragged
through the streets by government employees—including sailors in
uniform. The police are strangely absent at such moments, as a rule,
and arrive only in time to arrest a few women . . . .

Perhaps the inscriptions on the suffrage banners were not tactful. It
is sometimes awkward indeed to quote the President’s speeches after the
speeches have “grown cold.” Also a too vigorous use of the word
“democracy” is distasteful to some government dignitaries, it seems.
But right or wrong, the suffragists at Washington are entitled to
police protection, even though in the minds of the Administration they
are not entitled to the ballot.

Perhaps, even in America, we must have a law forbidding people to carry
banners demanding what they consider their political rights. Such a law
would, of course, prohibit political parades of all kinds, public mass
meetings and other demonstrations of one set of opinions against
another set. Such a law has been proposed by Senator Myers of Montana,
the author of the latest censorship and anti-free speech bill. It may
be necessary to pass the law, if it is also necessary that the public
voice be stilled and the nation become dumb and subservient.

But until there is such a law . . . people must be protected while
their actions remain within the law. If their opinions differ from
ours, we must refrain from smashing their faces, if a certain number of
people believe that they have the right to vote we may either grant
their claim or turn them sadly away, but we may not roll them into the
gutter; if they see fit to tell us our professions of democracy are
empty, we may smile sorrowfully and murmur a prayer for their ignorance
but we may not pelt them with rotten eggs and fire a shot through the
window of their dwelling; if, denied a properly dignified hearing, they
insist upon walking through the streets with printed words on a saucy
banner, we may be amazed at their zeal and pitiful of their bad taste,
but even for the sake of keeping their accusations out of sight of our
foreign visitors (whom we have trained to believe us perfect) we may
not send them to jail . . . .

All this suffrage shouting in Washington has as its single object the
attainment of President Wilson’s material support for equal suffrage .
. . .

President Wilson’s word would carry the question into Congress . . .

Would there be any harm in letting Congress vote on a suffrage
resolution? That would end the disturbance and it would make our shield
of national justice somewhat brighter.

It looks like President Wilson’s move.

Between these opposing currents of protest and support, the
Administration drifted helplessly. Unwilling to pass the amendment, it
continued to send women to prison.

On the afternoon of September 4th, President Wilson led his first
contingent of drafted “soldiers of freedom” down Pennsylvania Avenue in
gala parade, on the first lap of their journey to the battlefields of
France. On the same afternoon a slender line of women—also “soldiers of
freedom”—attempted to march in Washington.

As they attempted to take up their posts, two by two, in front of the
Reviewing Stand, opposite the White House, they were gathered in and
swept away by the police like common street criminals—their golden
banners scarcely flung to the breeze.

MR. PRESIDENT, HOW LONG MUST WOMEN BE DENIED A VOICE IN A GOVERNMENT
WHICH IS CONSCRIPTING THEIR SONS?


was the offensive question on the first banner carried by Miss Eleanor
Calnan of Massachusetts and Miss Edith Ainge of New York.

The Avenue was roped off on account of the parade. There was hardly any
one passing at the time; all traffic had been temporarily suspended, so
there was none to obstruct. But the Administration’s policy must go on.
A few moments and Miss Lucy Branham of Maryland and Mrs. Pauline Adams
of Virginia marched down the Avenue, their gay banners waving joyously
in the autumn sun, to fill up the gap of the two comrades who had been
arrested. They, too, were shoved into the police automobile, their
banners still high and appealing, silhouetted against the sky as they
were hurried to the police station.

The third pair of pickets managed to cross the Avenue, but were
arrested immediately they reached the curb. Still others advanced. The
crowd began to line the ropes and to watch eagerly the line of women
indomitably coming, two by two, into the face of certain arrest. A
fourth detachment was arrested in the middle of the Avenue on the
trolley tracks. But still they came.

A few days later more women were sent to the workhouse for carrying to
the picket line this question:

“President Wilson, what did you mean when you said: ‘We have seen a
good many singular things happen recently. We have been told there is a
deep disgrace resting upon the origin of this nation. The nation
originated in the sharpest sort of criticism of public policy. We
originated, to put it in the vernacular, in a kick, and if it be
unpatriotic to kick, why then the grown man is unlike the child. We
have forgotten the very principle of our origin if we have forgotten
how to object, how to resist, how to agitate, how to pull down and
build up, even to the extent of revolutionary practices, if it be
necessary to readjust matters. I have forgotten my history, if that be
not true history.’”

The Administration had not yet abandoned hope of removing the pickets.
They persisted in their policy of arrests and longer imprisonments.




Chapter 6
Prison Episodes


During all this time the suffrage prisoners were enduring the miserable
and petty tyranny of the government workhouse at Occoquan. They were
kept absolutely incommunicado. They were not allowed to see even their
nearest relatives, should any be within reach, until they had been in
the institution two weeks.

Each prisoner was allowed to write one outgoing letter a month, which,
after being read by the warden, could be sent or withheld at his whim.

All incoming mail and telegrams were also censored by the
Superintendent and practically all of them denied the prisoners.
Superintendent Whittaker openly boasted of holding up the suffragists’
mail: “I am boss down here,” he said to visitors who asked to see the
prisoners, or to send in a note. “I consider the letters and telegrams
these prisoners get are treasonable. They cannot have them.” He
referred to messages commending the women for choosing prison to
silence, and bidding them stand steadfast to their program.

Of course all this was done in the hope of intimidating not only the
prisoners, but also those who came wanting to see them.

It was the intention of the women to abide as far as possible by the
routine of the institution, disagreeable and unreasonable as it was.
They performed the tasks assigned to them. They ate the prison food
without protest. They wore the coarse prison clothes. But at the end of
the first week of detention they became so weak from the shockingly bad
food that they began to wonder if they could endure such a system. The
petty tyrannies they could endure. But the inevitable result of a diet
of sour bread, half-cooked vegetables, rancid soup with worms in it,
was serious.

Finally the true condition of affairs trickled to the outside world
through the devious routes of prison messengers.

Senator J. Hamilton Lewis, of Illinois, Democratic whip in the Senate,
heard alarming reports of two of his constituents, Miss Lucy Ewing,
daughter of Judge Ewing, niece of Adlai Stevenson, Vice-President in
Cleveland’s Administration, niece of James Ewing, minister to Belgium
in the same Administration, and Mrs. William Upton Watson of Chicago.
He made a hurried trip to the workhouse to see them. The fastidious
Senator was shocked—shocked at the appearance of the prisoners, shocked
at the tale they told, shocked that “ladies” should be subjected to
such indignities. “In all my years of criminal practice,” said the
Senator to Gilson Gardner, who had accompanied him to the workhouse, “I
have never seen prisoners so badly treated, either before or after
conviction.” He is a gallant gentleman who would be expected to be
uncomfortable when he actually saw ladies suffer. It was more than
gallantry in this instance, however, for he spoke in frank condemnation
of the whole “shame and outrage” of the thing.

It is possible that he reported to other Administration officials what
he had learned during his visit to the workhouse for very soon
afterwards it was announced that an investigation of conditions in the
workhouse would be held. That was, of course, an admirable maneuver
which the Administration could make. “Is the President not a kind man?
He pardoned some women. Now he investigates the conditions under which
others are imprisoned. Even though they are lawless women, he wishes
them well treated.”

It would sound “noble” to thousands.

Immediately the District Commissioners announced this investigation,
Miss Lucy Burns, acting on behalf of the National Woman’s Party, sent a
letter to Commissioner Brownlow. After summing up the food situation
Miss Burns wrote:

When our friends were sent to prison, they expected the food would be
extremely plain, but they also expected that . . enough eatable food
would be given them to maintain them in their ordinary state of health.
This has not been the case.

The testimony of one of the prisoners, Miss Lavinia Dock, a trained
nurse, is extremely valuable on the question of food supplied at
Occoquan. Miss Dock is Secretary of the American Federation of Nurses.
She has had a distinguished career in her profession. She assisted in
the work after the Johnstown flood and during the yellow fever epidemic
in Florida. During the Spanish war she organized the Red Cross work
with Clara Barton. ‘I really thought,’ said Miss Dock, when I last saw
her, ‘that I could eat everything, but here I have hard work choking
down enough food to keep the life in me.’

I am sure you will agree with me that these conditions should be
instantly remedied. When these and other prisoners were sentenced to
prison they were sentenced to detention and not to starvation or
semi-starvation.

The hygienic conditions have been improved at Occoquan since a group of
suffragists were imprisoned there. But they are still bad. The water
they drink is kept in an open pail, from which it is ladled into a
drinking cup. The prisoners frequently dip the drinking cup directly
into the pail.

The same piece of soap is used for every prisoner. As the prisoners in
Occoquan are sometimes seriously afflicted with disease, this practice
is appallingly negligent.

Concerning the general conditions of the person, I am enclosing with
this letter, affidavit of Mrs. Virginia Bovee, an ex-officer of the
workhouse . . . . The prisoners for whom I am counsel are aware that
cruel practices go on at Occoquan. On one occasion they heard
Superintendent Whittaker kicking a woman in the next room. They heard
Whittaker’s voice, the sound of blows, and the woman’s cries.

I lay these facts before you with the knowledge that you will be glad
to have the fullest possible information given you concerning the
institution for whose administration you as Commissioner of the
District of Columbia are responsible.’

Very respectfully yours,
(Signed) LUCY BURNS.


Mrs. Bovee, a matron, was discharged from the workhouse because she
tried to be kind to the suffrage prisoners. She also gave them warnings
to guide them past the possible contamination of hideous diseases. As
soon as she was discharged from the workhouse she went to the
headquarters of the Woman’s Party and volunteered to make an affidavit.
The affidavit of Mrs. Bovee follows:

I was discharged yesterday as an officer of Occoquan workhouse. For
eight months I acted as night officer, with no complaint as to my
performance of my duties. Yesterday Superintendent Whittaker told me I
was discharged and gave me two hours in which to get out. I demanded
the charges from the matron, Mrs. Herndon, and I was told that it was
owing to something that Senator Lewis has said.

I am well acquainted with the conditions at Occoquan. I have had charge
of all the suffragist prisoners who have been there. I know that their
mail has been withheld from them. Mrs. Herndon, the matron, reads the
mail, and often discussed it with us at the officers’ table. She said
of a letter sent to one of the suffragist pickets now in the workhouse,
“They told her to keep her eyes open and notice everything. She will
never get that letter,” said Mrs. Herndon. ,Then she corrected herself,
and added, “Not until she goes away.” Ordinarily the mail not given the
prisoners is destroyed. The mail for the suffragists is saved for them
until they are ready to go away. I have Seen three of the women have
one letter each, but that is all. The three were Mrs. Watson, Miss
Ewing, and I think Miss Flanagan.

The blankets now being used in the prison have been in use since
December without being washed or cleaned. Blankets are washed once a
year. Officers are warned not to touch any of the bedding. The one
officer who handles it is compelled by the regulations to wear rubber
gloves while she does so. The sheets for the ordinary prisoners are not
changed completely, even when one is gone and another takes her bed.
Instead the top sheet is put on the bottom, and one fresh sheet is
given them. I was not there when these suffragists arrived, and I do
not know how their bedding was arranged. I doubt whether the
authorities would have dared to give them one soiled sheet.

The prisoners with disease are not always isolated, by any means. In
the colored dormitory there are two women in the advanced stages of
consumption. Women suffering from, syphilis, who have open sores, are
put in the hospital. But those whose sores are temporarily healed are
put in the same dormitory with the others. There have been several such
in my dormitory.

When the prisoners come they must undress and take a shower bath. For
this they take a piece of soap from a bucket in the store room. When
they are finished they throw the soap back in the bucket. The
suffragists are permitted three showers a week and have only these
pieces of soap which are common to all inmates. There is no soap at all
in wash rooms.

The beans, hominy, rice, cornmeal (which is exceedingly coarse, like
chicken feed) and cereal have all had worms in them. Sometimes the
worms float on top of the soup. Often they are found in the cornbread.
The first suffragists sent the worms to Whittaker on a spoon. On the
farm is a fine herd of Holsteins. The cream is made into butter and
sold to the tuberculosis hospital in Washington. At the officers’ table
we have very good milk. The prisoners do not have any butter or sugar,
and no milk except by order of the doctor.

Prisoners are punished by being put on bread or water, or by being
beaten. I know of one girl who has been kept seventeen days on only
water this month in the “booby house.” The ,same was kept nineteen days
on water last year because she .beat Superintendent Whittaker when he
tried to beat her.

Superintendent Whittaker or his son are the only ones who beat the
girls. Officers are not allowed to lay a hand on them in punishment. I
know of one girl beaten until the blood had to be scrubbed from her
clothing and from the floor of the “booby house.” I have never actually
seen a girl beaten, but I have seen her afterwards and I have heard the
cries and blows. Dorothy Warfield was beaten and the suffragists heard
the beating.

(Signed) MRS. VIRGINIA BOVEE.


Subscribed and sworn to before me this day of disgust, 1917.
JOSEPH H. BATT, Notary Public.


While the Administration was planning an investigation of the
conditions in the workhouse, which made it difficult for women to
sustain health through a thirty day sentence, it was, through its
police court, sentencing more women to sixty day sentences, under the
same conditions. The Administration was giving some thought to its plan
of procedure, but not enough to master the simple fact that women would
not stop going to prison until something had been done which promised
passage of the amendment through Congress.

New forms of intimidation and hardship were offered by Superintendent
Whittaker.

Mrs. Frederick Kendall of Buffalo, New York, a frail and highly
sensitive woman, was put in a “punishment cell” on bread and water,
under a charge of “impudence.” Mrs. Kendall says that her impudence
consisted of “protesting to the matron that scrubbing floors on my
hands and knees was too severe work for me as I had been unable for
days to eat the prison food. My impudence further consisted in asking
for lighter work.”

Mrs. Kendall was refused the clean clothing she should have had the day
she was put in solitary confinement and was thus forced to wear the
same clothing eleven days. She was refused a nightdress or clean linen
for the cot. Her only toilet accommodations was an open pail. For four
days she was allowed no water for toilet purposes., Her diet consisted
of three thin slices of bread and three cups of water, carried to her
in a paper cup which frequently leaked out half the meager supply
before it got to Mrs. Kendall’s cell.

Representative and Mrs. Charles Bennet Smith, of Buffalo, friends of
Mrs. Kendall, created a considerable disturbance when they learned of
this cruel treatment, with the result that Mrs. Kendall was finally
given clean clothing and taken from her confinement. When she walked
from her cell to greet Mrs. Genevieve Clark Thompson, daughter of Champ
Clark, Speaker of the House, and Miss Roberta Bradshaw, other friends,
who, through the Speaker’s influence, had obtained special permission
to see Mrs. Kendall, she fell in a dead faint. It was such shocking
facts as these that the Commissioners and their investigating board
were vainly trying to keep from the country for the sake of the
reputation of the Administration.

For attempting to spear to Mrs. Kendall through her cell door, to
inquire as to her health, while in solitary, Miss Lucy Burns was placed
on a bread and water diet.

Miss Jeannette Rankin of Montana, the only woman member of Congress,
was moved by these and similar revelations to introduce a resolution[1]
calling for a Congressional investigation of the workhouse.

[1] For text of Miss Rankin’s resolution see Appendix 3.


There were among the suffrage prisoners women of all shades of social
opinion.

The following letter by Miss Gvinter, the young Russian worker, was
smuggled out of the workhouse. This appeal to Meyer London was rather
pathetic, since not even he, the only Socialist member in Congress,
stood up to denounce the treatment of the pickets.

Comrade Meyer London:

I am eight years in this movement, three and a half years a member of
the Socialist Party, Branches 2 and 4 of the Bronx, and I have been an
active member of the Waist Makers’ Union since 1910. I am from New
York, but am now in Baltimore, where I got acquainted with the comrades
who asked me to picket the White House, and of course I expressed my
willingness to help the movement. I am now in the workhouse. I want to
get out and help in the work as I am more revolutionary than the
Woman’s Party, yet conditions here are so bad that I feel I must stay
here and help women get their rights. We are enslaved here. I am
suffering very much from hunger and nearly blind from bad nourishment.
The food is chiefly soup, cereal with worms, bread just baked and very
heavy. Even this poor food, we do not get enough. I do not eat meat.
When I told the doctor that he said, “You must eat, and if you don’t
like it here, you go and tell the judge you won’t picket any more, and
then you can get out of here.” But I told him that I could not go
against my principles and my belief. He asked, “Do you believe you
should break the law?” I replied, “I have picketed whenever I had a
chance for eight years and have never broken the law. Picketing is
legal.”

Please come here as quickly as possible, as we need your help.

Will you give the information in this letter to the newspapers?

Please pardon this scrap of paper as I have nothing else to write on. I
would write to other comrades, to Hillquit or Paulsen, but you are in
the Congress and can do more.

Yours for the Cause,

(Signed) ANNA GVINTER.
OCCOQUAN WORKHOUSE, Friday, Sept. 21.


Miss Gvinter swore to an affidavit when she came out in which she said
in part:

. . . The days that we had to stand on scaffolds and ladders to paint
the dormitories, I was so weak from lack of food I was dizzy and in
constant danger of falling.

. . . When they told me to scrub the floors of the lavatories I
refused, because I have to work for my living and I could not afford to
get any of the awful diseases that women down there have.

I obeyed all the rules of the institution. The only times I stopped
working was because I was too sick to work.

(Signed) ANNA GVINTER.


Sworn to before me and subscribed in my presence this 13th day of
October, 1917.

(Signed) C. LARIMORE KEELEY,
Notary Public, D. C.


Half a hundred women was the government’s toll for one month:-
.Continuous arrests kept the issue hot and kept people who cared in
constant protest. It is impossible to give space to the countless
beautiful messages which were sent to the women, or the fervent
protests which went to government officials. Among the hundreds of
thousands of protests was a valuable one by Dr. Harvey Wiley, the
celebrated food expert, in a letter to Dr. George M. Kober, member of
the Board in control of the jail and workhouse, and a well-known
sanitarium. Dr. Wiley wrote:

November 3, 1917.


Dear Dr. Kober:

I am personally acquainted with many of the women who have been
confined at Occoquan, and at the District jail, and have heard from
their own lips an account of the nutrition and sanitary conditions
prevailing at both places.

I, therefore, feel constrained to make known to you the conditions, as
they have been told to me, and as I believe them actually to exist.

As I understand it, there is no purpose in penal servitude of lowering
the vitality of the prisoner, or in inviting disease. Yet both of these
conditions prevail both at Occoquan and at the District jail. First of
all, the food question. The diet furnished the prisoners at Occoquan
especially is of a character to invit6 all kinds of infections that may
prevail, and to lower the vitality so that the resistance to disease is
diminished. I have fortunately come into possession of samples of the
food actually given to these women. I have kept samples of the milk
religiously for over two weeks to see if I could detect the least
particle of fat, and have been unable to perceive any. The fat of milk
is universally recognized by dieticians as its most important nutritive
character. I understand that a dairy is kept on the farm at Occoquan,
and yet it is perfectly certain that no whole milk is served or ever
has been served to one of the so-called “picketers” in that jail. I
have not had enough of the sample to make a chemical analysis, but
being somewhat experienced in milk, I can truthfully say that it seems
to me to be watered skimmed milk. I also have a sample of the pea soup
served. The pea grains are coarsely broken, often more than half of a
pea, being served in one piece. They never have been cooked, but are in
a perfectly raw state, and found to be inedible by the prisoners.

I have also samples of the corn bread which is most unattractive and
repellant to the eye and to the taste. All of these witnesses say that
the white bread apparently is of good quality, but the diet in every
case is the cause of constipation, except in the case of pea soup,
which brings on diarrhea and vomiting. As nutrition is the very
foundation of sanitation, I wish to call to your special attention, as
a sanitation, the totally inadequate sustenance given to these
prisoners.

The food at the county jail at Washington is much better than the food
at Occoquan, but still bad enough. This increased excellence of food is
set off by the miserable ventilation of the cells, in which these noble
women are kept in solitary confinement. Not only have they had a
struggle to get the windows open slightly, but also at the time of
their morning meal, the sweeping is done. The air of the cells is
filled with dust and they try to cover their coffee and other food with
such articles as they can find to keep the dust out of their food.
Better conditions for promoting tuberculosis could not be found.

I appeal to you as a well-known sanitarian to get the Board of
Charities to make such rules and regulations as would secure to
prisoners of all kinds, and especially to political prisoners, as
humane an environment as possible.

I also desire to ask that the Board of Charities would authorize me to
make inspections of food furnished to prisoners at Occoquan and at the
District Jail, and to have physical and chemical analysis made without
expense to the Board, in order to determine more fully the nutritive
environment in which the prisoners live.

Sincerely,
(Signed) HARVEY WILEY.


This striking telegram from Richard Bennett, the distinguished actor,
must have arrested the attention of the Administration.

September 22, 1917.


Hon. Newton Baker,
Secretary of War,
War Department,
Washington, D. C.

I have been asked to go to France personally, with the film of “Damaged
Goods,” as head of a lecture corps to the American army. On reliable
authority I am told that American women, because they have dared demand
their political freedom, are held in vile conditions in the Government
workhouse in Washington; are compelled to paint the negro toilets for
eight hours a day; are denied decent food and denied communication with
counsel. Why should I work for democracy in Europe when our American
women are denied democracy at home? If I am to fight for social hygiene
in France, why not begin at Occoquan workhouse?

RICHARD BENNETT.


Mr. Bennett never received a reply to this message.

Charming companionships grew up in prison. Ingenuity at lifting the
dull monotony of imprisonment brought to light many talents for
camaraderie which amused not only the suffrage prisoners but the
“regulars.” Locked in separate cells, as in the District Jail, the
suffragists could still communicate by song. The following lively
doggerel to the tune of “Captain Kidd” was sung in chorus to the
accompaniment of a hair comb. It became a saga. Each day a new verse
was added, relating the day’s particular controversy with the prison
authorities.

We worried Woody-wood,
As we stood, as we stood,
We worried Woody-wood,
As we stood.
We worried Woody-wood,
And we worried him right good;
We worried him right good as we stood.

We asked him for the vote,
As we stood, as we stood,
We asked him for the vote
As we stood,
We asked him for the vote,
But he’d rather write a note,
He’d rather write a note—so we stood.

We’ll not get out on bail,
Go to jail, go to jail—
We’ll not get out on bail,
We prefer to go to jail,
We prefer to go to jail—we’re not frail.

We asked them for a brush,
For our teeth, for our teeth,
We asked them for a brush
For our teeth.
We asked them for a brush,
They said, “There ain’t no rush,”
They said, “There ain’t no rush—darn your teeth.”

We asked them for some air,
As we choked, as we choked,
We asked them for some air
As we choked.
We asked them for some air
And they threw us in a lair,
They threw us in a lair, so we choked.

We asked them for our nightie,
As we froze, as we froze,
We asked them for our nightie
As we froze.
We asked them for our nightie,
And they looked—hightie-tightie—
They looked hightie-tightie—so we froze.

Now, ladies, take the hint,
As ye stand, as ye stand,
Now, ladies, take the hint,
As ye stand.
Now, ladies, take the hint,
Don’t quote the Presidint,
Don’t quote the Presidint, as ye stand.


Humor predominated in the poems that came out of prison. There was
never any word of tragedy.

Not even an intolerable diet of raw salt pork, which by actual count of
Miss Margaret Potheringham, a teacher of Domestic Science and
Dietetics, was served the suffragists sixteen times in eighteen days,
could break their spirit of gayety. And when a piece of fish of unknown
origin was slipped through the tiny opening in the cell door, and a
specimen carefully preserved for Dr. Wiley—who, by the way, was unable
to classify it—they were more diverted than outraged.

Sometimes it was a “prayer” which enlivened the evening hour before
bedtime. Mary Winsor of Haverford, Pennsylvania, was the master
prayer-maker. One night it was a Baptist prayer, another a Methodist,
and still another a stern Presbyterian prayer. The prayers were most
disconcerting to the matron for the “regulars” became almost hysterical
with laughter, when they should be slipping into sleep. It was trying
also to sit in the corridor and hear your daily cruelties narrated to
God and punishment asked. This is what happened to the embarrassed
warden and jail attendants if they came to protest.

Sometimes it was the beautiful voice of Vida Milholland which rang
through the corridors of the dreary prison, with a stirring Irish
ballad, a French love song, or the Woman’s Marseillaise.

Again the prisoners would build a song, each calling out from cell to
cell, and contributing a line. The following song to the tune of
“Charlie Is My Darling” was so written and sung with Miss Lucy Branham
leading:

SHOUT THE REVOLUTION OF WOMEN


Shout the revolution
Of women, of women,
Shout the revolution
For liberty.
Rise, glorious women of the earth,
The voiceless and the free
United strength assures the birth
Of true democracy.


REFRAIN


Invincible our army,
Forward, forward,
Triumphant daughters pressing
To victory.

Shout the revolution
of women, of women,
Shout the revolution
For liberty.
Men’s revolution born in blood,
But ours conceived in peace,
We hold a banner for a sword,
Till all oppression cease.


REFRAIN


Prison, death, defying,
Onward, onward,
Triumphant daughters pressing
To victory.


The gayety was interspersed with sadness when the suffragists learned
of new cruelties heaped upon the helpless ones, those who were without
influence or friends. .. They learned of that barbarous punishment
known as “the greasy pole” used upon girl prisoners. This method of
punishment consisted of strapping girls with their hands tied behind
them to a greasy pole from which they were partly suspended. Unable to
keep themselves in an upright position, because of the grease on the
pole, they slipped almost to the floor, with their arms all but severed
from the arm sockets, suffering intense pain for long periods of time.
This cruel punishment was meted out to prisoners for slight infractions
of the prison rules.

The suffrage prisoners learned also of the race hatred which the
authorities encouraged. It was not infrequent that the jail officers
summoned black girls to attack white women, if the latter disobeyed.
This happened in one instance to the suffrage prisoners who were
protesting against the warden’s forcibly taking a suffragist from the
workhouse without telling her or her comrades whither she was being
taken. Black girls were called and commanded to physically attack the
suffragists. The negresses, reluctant to do so, were goaded to deliver
blows upon the women by the warden’s threats of punishment.

And as a result of our having been in prison, our headquarters has
never ceased being the mecca of many discouraged “inmates,” when
released. They come for money. They come for work. They come for
spiritual encouragement to face life after the wrecking experience of
imprisonment. Some regard us as “fellow prisoners.” Others regard us as
“friends at court.”

Occasionally we meet a prison associate in the workaday world. Long
after Mrs. Lawrence Lewis’ imprisonment, when she was working on
ratification of the amendment in Delaware, she was greeted warmly by a
charming young woman who came forward at a meeting. “Don’t you remember
me?” she asked, as Mrs. Lewis struggled to recollect. “Don’t you
remember me? I met you in Washington.”

“I’m sorry but I seem to have forgotten where I met you,” said Mrs.
Lewis apologetically.

“In jail,” came the answer hesitantly, whereupon Mrs. Lewis listened
sympathetically while her fellow prisoner told her that she had been in
jail at the tipie Mrs. Lewis was, that her crime was bigamy and that
she was one of the traveling circus troupe then in Dover.

“She brought up her husband, also a member of the circus,” said Mrs.
Lewis in telling of the incident, “and they both joined
enthusiastically in a warm invitation to come and see them in the
circus.”

As each group of suffragists was released an enthusiastic welcome was
given to them at headquarters and at these times, in the midst of the
warmth of approving and appreciative comrades, some of the most
beautiful speeches were delivered. I quote a part of Katharine Fisher’s
speech at a dinner in honor of released prisoners:

Five of us who are with you to-night have recently come out from the
workhouse into the world. A great change? Not so much of a change for
women, disfranchised women. In prison or out, American women are not
free. Our lot of physical freedom simply gives us and the public a new
and vivid sense of what our lack of political freedom really means.

Disfranchisement is the prison of women’s power and spirit. Women have
long been classed with criminals so far as their voting rights are
concerned. And how quick the Government is to live up to its
classification the minute women determinedly insist upon these rights.
Prison life epitomizes all life under undemocratic rule. At Occoquan,
as at the Capitol and the White House, we faced hypocrisy, trickery and
treachery on the part of those in power. And the constant appeal to us
to “cooperate” with the workhouse authorities sounded wonderfully like
the exhortation addressed to all women to “support the Government.”

“Is that the law of the District of Columbia?” I asked Superintendent
Whittaker concerning a statement he had made to me. “It is the law,” he
answered, “because it is the rule I make.” The answer of Whittaker is
the answer Wilson makes to women every time the Government, of which he
is the head, enacts a law and at the same time continues to refuse to
pass the Susan B. Anthony amendment . . . .

We seem to-day to stand before you free, but I have no sense of freedom
because I have left comrades at Occoquan and because other comrades may
at any moment join them there . . . .

While comrades are there what is our freedom? It is as empty as the
so-called political freedom of women who have won suffrage by a state
referendum. Like them we are free only within limits . . . .

We must not let our voice be drowned by war trumpets or cannon. If we
do, we shall find ourselves, when the war is over, with a peace that
will only prolong our struggle, a democracy that will belie its name by
leaving out half the people.

The Administration continued to send women to the workhouse and the
District Jail for thirty and sixty day sentences.




Chapter 7
An Administration Protest—Dudley Field Malone Resigns


Dudley Field Malone was known to the country as sharing the intimate
confidence and friendship of President Wilson. He had known and
supported the President from the beginning of the President’s political
career. He had campaigned twice through New Jersey with Mr. Wilson as
Governor; he had managed Mr. Wilson’s campaigns in many states for the
nomination before the Baltimore Convention; he had toured the country
with Mr. Wilson in 1912 ; and it was he who led to victory President
Wilson’s fight for California in 1916.

So when Mr. Malone went to the White House in July, 1917, to protest
against the Administration’s handling of the suffrage question, he went
not only as a confirmed suffragist, but also a5 a confirmed supporter
and member of the Wilson Administration—the one who had been chosen to
go to the West in 1916 to win women voters to the Democratic Party.

Mr. Malone has consented to tell for the first time, in this record of
the militant campaign, what happened at his memorable interview with
President Wilson in July, 1917, an interview which he followed up two
months later with his resignation as Collector of the Port of New York.
I quote the story in his own words:

Frank P. Walsh, Amos Pinchot, Frederic C. Howe, J. A. H. Hopkins, Allen
McCurdy and I were present throughout the trial of the sixteen women in
July. Immediately after the police court judge had pronounced his
sentence of sixty days in the Occoquan workhouse upon these “first
offenders,” on the alleged charge of a traffic violation, I went over
to Anne Martin, one of the women’s counsel, and offered to act as
attorney on the appeal of the case. I then went to the court clerk’s
office and telephoned to President Wilson at the Whit House, asking him
to see me at once. It was three o’clock. I called a taxicab, drove
direct to the executive offices and met him.

I began by reminding the President that in the seven years and a half
of our personal and political association we had never had a serious
difference. He was good enough to say that my loyalty to him bad been
one of the happiest circumstances of his public career. But I told him
I had come to place my resignation in his hands as I could not remain a
member of any administration which dared to send American women to
prison for demanding national suffrage. I also informed him that I had
offered to act as counsel for the suffragists on the appeal of their
case. He asked me for full details of my complaint and attitude. I told
Mr. Wilson everything I had witnessed from the time we saw the
suffragists arrested in front of the White House to their sentence in
the police court. I observed that although we might not agree with the
“manners” of picketing, citizens had a right to petition the President
or any other official of the government for a redress of grievances. He
seemed to acquiesce in this view, and reminded me that the women had
been unmolested at the White House gates for over five months, adding
that he had even ordered the head usher to invite the women on cold
days to come into the White House and warm themselves and have coffee.

“If the situation is as you describe it, it is shocking,” said the
President’. “The manhandling of the women by the police was outrageous
and the entire trial (before a judge of your own appointment) was a
perversion of justice,” I said. This seemed to annoy the President and
he replied with asperity, “Why do you come to me in this indignant
fashion for things which have been done by the police officials of the
city of Washington?”

“Mr. President,” I said, “the treatment of these women is the result of
carefully laid plans made by the District Commissioners of the city of
Washington, who were appointed to office by you. Newspaper men of
unquestioned information and integrity have told me that the District
Commissioners have been in consultation with your private secretary,
Mr. Tumulty, and that the Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. McAdoo, sat in
at a conference when the policy of these arrests was being determined.”

The President asserted his ignorance of all this.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he said, “that you intend to resign, to
repudiate me and my Administration and sacrifice me for your views on
this suffrage question?”

His attitude then angered me and I said, “Mr. President, if there is
any sacrifice in this unhappy circumstance, it is I who am making the
sacrifice. I was sent twice as your spokesman in the last campaign to
the Woman Suffrage States of the West. You have since been good enough
to say publicly and privately that I did as much as any man to carry
California for you. After my first tour I had a long conference with
you here at the White House on the political situation in those states.
I told you that I found your strength with women voters lay in the fact
that you had with great patience and statesmanship kept this country
out of the European war. But that your great weakness with women voters
was that you had not taken any step throughout your entire
Administration to urge the passage of the Federal Suffrage Amendment,
which Mr. Hughes was advocating and which alone can enfranchise all the
women of the nation. You asked me then how I met this situation, and I
told you that I promised the women voters of the West that if they
showed the political sagacity to choose you as against Mr. Hughes, I
would do everything in my power to get your Administration to take up
and pass the suffrage amendment. You were pleased and approved of what
I had done. I returned to California and repeated this promise, and so
far as I am concerned, I must keep my part of that obligation.”

I reiterated to the President my earlier appeal that he assist suffrage
as an urgent war measure and a necessary part of America’s program for
world democracy, to which the President replied: “The enfranchisement
of women is not at all necessary to a program of democracy and I see
nothing in the argument that it is a war measure unless you mean that
American women will not loyally support the war unless they are given
the vote.” I firmly denied this conclusion of the President and told
him that while American women with or without the vote would support
the United States Government against German militarism, yet it seemed
to me a great opportunity of his leadership to remove this grievance
which women generally felt against him and his administration. “Mr.
President,” I urged, “if you, as the leader, will persuade the
administration to pass the Federal Amendment you will release from the
suffrage fight the energies of thousands of women which will be given
with redoubled zeal to the support of your program for international
justice.” But the President absolutely refused to admit the validity of
my appeal, though it was as a “war measure” that the President some
months later demanded that the Senate pass the suffrage amendment.

The President was visibly moved as I added, “You are the President now,
reelected to office. You ask if I am going to sacrifice you. You
sacrifice nothing by my resignation. But I lose much. I quit a
political career. I give up a powerful office in my own state. I, who
have no money, sacrifice a lucrative salary, and go back to revive my
law practice. But most of all I sever a personal association with you
of the deepest affection which you know has meant much to me these past
seven years. But I cannot and will not remain in office and see women
thrown into jail because they demand their political freedom.”

The President earnestly urged me not to resign, saying, “What will the
people of the country think when they hear that the Collector of the
Port of New York has resigned because of an injustice done to a group
of suffragists by the police officials of the city of Washington?”

My reply to this was, “With all respect for you, Mr. President, my
explanation to the public will not be as difficult as yours, if I am
compelled to remind the public that you have appointed to office and
can remove all the important officials of the city of Washington.”

The President ignored this and insisted that I should not resign,
saying, “I do not question your intense conviction about this matter as
I know you have always been an ardent suffragist; and since you feel as
you do I see no reason why you should not become their counsel and take
this case up on appeal without resigning from the Administration.”

“But,” I said, “Mr. President, that arrangement would be impossible for
two reasons; first, these women would not want me as their counsel if I
were a member of your Administration, for it would appear to the public
then as if your Administration was not responsible for the indignities
to which they have been subjected, and your Administration is
responsible; and, secondly, I cannot accept your suggestion because it
may be necessary in the course of the appeal vigorously to criticize
and condemn members of your cabinet and others close to you, and I
could not adopt this policy while remaining in office under you.” The
President seemed greatly upset and finally urged me as a personal
service to him to go at once and perfect the case on appeal for the
suffragists, but not to resign until I had thought it over for a day,
and until he had had an opportunity to investigate the facts I had
presented to him. I agreed to this, and we closed the interview with
the President saying, “If you consider my personal request and do not
resign, please do not leave Washington without coming to see me.” I
left the executive offices and never saw him again.

There was just a day and a half left to perfect the exceptions for the
appeal under the rules of procedure. No stenographic record of the
trial had been taken, which put me under the greatest legal
difficulties. I was in the midst of these preparations for appeal the
next day when I learned to my surprise that the President had pardoned
the women. He had not even consulted me as their attorney. Moreover, I
was amazed that since the President had said he considered the
treatment of the women “shocking,” he had pardoned them without stating
that he did so to correct a grave injustice. I felt certain that the
high-spirited women in the workhouse would refuse to accept the pardon
as a mere “benevolent” act on the part of the President.

I at once went down to the workhouse in Virginia. My opinion was
confirmed. The group refused to accept the President’s pardon. I
advised them that as a matter of law no one could compel them to accept
the pardon, but that as a matter of fact they would have to accept it,
for the Attorney General would have them all put out of the institution
bag and baggage. So as a solution of the difficulty and in view of the
fact that the President had said to me that their treatment was
“shocking” I made public the following statement:

“The President’s pardon is an acknowledgment by him of the grave
injustice that has been done:” This he never denied.

Under this published interpretation of his pardon the women at Occoquan
accepted the pardon and returned to Washington. The incident was
closed. I returned to New York. During the next two months I carefully
watched the situation. Six or eight more groups of women in that time
were arrested on the same false charges, tried and imprisoned in the
same illegal way. Finally a group of women was arrested in September
under the identical circumstances as those in July, was tried in the
same lawless fashion and given the same sentence of “sixty days in the
workhouse.” The President may have been innocent of responsibility for
the first arrests, but he was personally and politically responsible
for all the arrests that occurred after his pardon of the first, group.
Under this development it seemed to me that self-respect demanded
action, so I sent my resignation to the President, publicly stated my
attitude and regretfully left his Administration.”

Mr. Malone’s resignation in September, 1917, came with a sudden shock,
because the entire country and surely the Administration thought him
quieted and subdued by the President’s personal appeal to him in July.

Mr. Malone was shocked that the policy of arrests should be continued.
Mr. Wilson and his Administration were shocked that any one should care
enough about the liberty of women to resign a lucrative post in the
Government. The nation was shocked into the realization that this was
not a street brawl between women and policemen, but a controversy
between suffragists and a powerful Administration. We had said so but
it would have taken months to convince the public that the President
was in any way responsible. Mr. Malone did what we could only have done
with the greatest difficulty and after more prolonged sacrifices. He
laid the responsibility squarely and dramatically where it belonged. It
is impossible to overemphasize what a tremendous acceleration Mr.
Malone’s fine, solitary and generous act gave to the speedy break-down
of the Administration’s resistance. His sacrifice lightened ours.

Women ought to be willing to make sacrifices for their own liberation,
but for a man to have the courage and imagination to make such a
sacrifice for the liberation of women is unparalleled. Mr. Malone
called to the attention of the nation the true cause of the obstruction
and suppression. He reproached the President and his colleagues after
mature consideration, in the most honorable and vital way,—by refusing
longer to associate himself with an Administration which backed such
policies.

And Mr. Malone’s resignation was not only welcomed by the militant
group. The conservative suffrage leaders, although they heartily
disapproved of , picketing, were as outspoken in their gratitude.

Alice Stone Blackwell, the daughter of Lucy Stone, herself a pioneer
suffrage leader and editor, wrote to Mr. Malone:

“May I express my appreciation and gratitude for the excellent and
manly letter that you have written to President Wilson on woman
suffrage? I am sure that I am only one of many women who feel thankful
to you for it.

“The picketing seems to me a very silly business, and I am sure it is
doing the cause harm instead of good; but the picketers are being
shamefully and illegally treated, and it is a thousand pities, for
President Wilson’s own sake, that he ever allowed the Washington
authorities to enter on this course of persecution. It was high time
for some one to make a protest, and you have made one that has been
heard far and wide . . . .”

Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt, the President of the National American Woman
Suffrage Association, wrote:

“I was in Maine when your wonderful letter announcing your resignation
came out. It was the noblest act that any man ever did on behalf of our
cause. The letter itself was a high minded appeal . . . . “

Mrs. Norman de R. Whitehouse, the President of the New York State Woman
Suffrage Party, with which Mr. Malone had worked for years, wired:

“Although we disagree with you on the question of picketing every
suffragist must be grateful to you for the gallant support you are
giving our cause and the great sacrifice you are making.”

Mrs. James Lees Laidlaw, Vice Chairman of the New York Suffrage Party,
said:

“No words of mine can tell you how our hearts have been lifted and our
purposes strengthened in this tremendous struggle in New York State by
the reading of your powerful and noble utterances in your letter to
President Wilson. There flashed through my mind all the memories of
Knights of chivalry and of romance that I have ever read, and they all
paled before your championship, and the sacrifice and the high-spirited
leadership that it signifies. Where you lead, I believe, thousands of
other men will follow, even though at a distance, and most inadequately
. . . .”

And from the women voters of California with whom Mr. Malone had kept
faith came the message:

“The liberty-loving women of California greet you as one of the few men
in history who have been willing to sacrifice material interests for
the liberty of a class to which they themselves do not belong. We are
thrilled by your inspiring words. We appreciate your sympathetic
understanding of the viewpoint of disfranchised women. We are deeply
grateful for the incalculable benefit of your active assistance in the
struggle of American women for political liberty and for a real
Democracy.”

I reprint Mr. Malone’s letter of resignation which sets forth in detail
his position.

September 7, 1917.


The President,
The White House,
Washington, D. C.

Dear Mr. President:

Last autumn, as the representative of your Administration, I went into
the woman suffrage states to urge your reelection. The most difficult
argument to meet among the seven million voters was the failure of the
Democratic party, throughout four years of power, to pass the federal
suffrage amendment looking toward the enfranchisement of all the women
of the country. Throughout those states, and particularly in
California, which ultimately decided the election by the votes of
women, the women voters were urged to support you, even though Judge
Hughes had already declared for the federal suffrage amendment, because
you and your party, through liberal leadership, were more likely
nationally to enfranchise the rest of the women of the country than
were your opponents.

And if the women of the West voted to reelect you, I promised them that
I would spend all my energy, at any sacrifice to myself, to get the
present Democratic Administration to pass the federal suffrage
amendment.

But the present policy of the Administration, in permitting splendid
American women to be sent to jail in Washington, not for carrying
offensive banners, not for picketing, but on the technical charge of
obstructing traffic, is a denial even of their constitutional right to
petition for, and demand the passage of, the federal suffrage
amendment. It, therefore, now becomes my profound obligation actively
to keep my promise to the women of the West.

In more than twenty states it is a practical impossibility to amend the
state constitutions; so the women of those States can only be
enfranchised by the passage of the federal suffrage amendment. Since
England and Russia, in the midst of the great war, have assured the
national enfranchisement of their women, should we not be jealous to
maintain our democratic leadership in the world by the speedy national
enfranchisement of American women?

To me, Mr. President, as I urged upon you in Washington two months ago,
this is not only a measure of justice and democracy, it is also an
urgent war measure. The women of the nation are, and always will be,
loyal to the country, and the passage of the suffrage amendment is only
the first step toward their national emancipation. But unless the
government takes at least this first step toward their enfranchisement,
how can the government ask millions of American women, educated in our
schools and colleges, and millions of American women, in our homes, or
toiling for economic independence in every line of industry, to give up
by conscription their men and happiness to a war for democracy in
Europe, while these women citizens are denied the right to vote on the
policies of the Government which demands of them such sacrifice?

For this reason many of your most ardent friends and supporters feel
that the passage of the federal suffrage amendment is a war measure
which could appropriately be urged by you at this session of Congress.
It is true that this amendment would have to come from Congress, but
the present Congress shows no earnest desire to enact this legislation
for the simple reason that you, as the leader of the party in power,
have not yet suggested it.

For the whole country gladly acknowledges, Mr. President, that no vital
piece of legislation has come through Congress these five years except
by your extraordinary and brilliant leadership. And what millions of
men and women to-day hope is that you will give the federal suffrage
amendment to the women of the country by the valor of your leadership
now. It will hearten the mothers of the nation, eliminate a just
grievance, and turn the devoted energies of brilliant women to a more
hearty support of the Government in this crisis.

As you well know, in dozens of speeches in many states I have advocated
your policies and the war. I was the first man of your Administration,
nearly five years ago, to publicly advocate preparedness, and helped to
found the first Plattsburg training camp. And if, with our troops
mobilizing in France, you will give American women this measure for
their political freedom, they will support with greater enthusiasm your
hope and the hope of America for world freedom.

I have not approved all the methods recently adopted by women in
pursuit of their political liberty; yet, Mr. President, the Committee
on Suffrage of the United States Senate was formed in 1883, when I was
one year old; this same federal suffrage amendment was first introduced
in Congress in 1878, brave women like Susan B. Anthony were petitioning
Congress for the suffrage before the Civil War, and at the time of the
Civil War men like William Lloyd Garrison, Horace Greeley, and Wendell
Phillips assured the suffrage leaders that if they abandoned their
fight for suffrage, when the war was ended the men of the nation “out
of gratitude” would enfranchise the women of the- country.

And if the men of this country had been peacefully demanding for over
half a century the political right or privilege to vote, and had been
continuously ignored or met with evasion by successive Congresses, as
have the women, you, Mr. President, as a lover of liberty, would be the
first to comprehend and forgive their inevitable impatience and
righteous indignation. Will not this Administration, reelected to power
by the hope and faith of the women of the West, handsomely reward that
faith by taking action now for the passage of the federal suffrage
amendment?

In the Port of New York, during the last four years, billions of
dollars in the export and import trade of the country have been handled
by the men of the customs service; their treatment of the traveling
public has radically changed, their vigilance supplied the evidence of
the Lusitania note; the neutrality was rigidly maintained; the great
German fleet guarded, captured, and repaired—substantial economies and
reforms have been concluded and my ardent industry has been given to
this great office of your appointment.

But now I wish to leave these finished tasks, to return to my
profession of the law, and to give all my leisure time to fight as hard
for the political freedom of women as I have always fought for your
liberal leadership.

It seems a long seven years, Mr. President, since I first campaigned
with you when you were running for Governor of New Jersey. In every
circumstance throughout those years I have served you with the most
respectful affection and unshadowed devotion. It is no small sacrifice
now for me, as a member of your Administration, to sever our political
relationship. But I think it is high time that men in this generation,
at some cost to themselves, stood up to battle for the national
enfranchisement of American women. So in order effectively to keep my
promise made in the West and more freely to go into this larger field
of democratic effort, I hereby resign my office as Collector of the
Port of New York, to take effect at once, or at your earliest
convenience.

Yours respectfully,
(Signed) DUDLEY FIELD MALONE.


The President’s answer has never before been published:

U. S. S. MAYFLOWER, 12 September, 1917.

THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON


My dear Mr. Collector:

Your letter of September 7th reached me just before I left home and I
have, I am sorry to say, been unable to reply to it sooner.

I must frankly say that I cannot regard your reasons for resigning your
position as Collector of Customs as convincing, but it is so evidently
your wish to be relieved from the duties of the office that I do not
feel at liberty to withhold my acceptance of your resignation. Indeed,
I judge from your letter that any discussion of the reasons would not
be acceptable to you and that it is your desire to be free of the
restraints of public office. I, therefore, accept your resignation, to
take effect as you have wished.

I need not say that our long association in public affairs makes me
regret the action you have taken most sincerely.

Very truly yours,
(Signed) WOODROW WILSON.


Hon. Dudley Field Malone,
Collector of Customs,
New York City.

To this Mr. Malone replied:

New York, N.Y.,
September 15th, 1917.

The President,
The White House,
Washington, D. C.

Dear Mr. President:

Thank you sincerely for your courtesy, for I knew you were on a
well-earned holiday and I did not expect an earlier reply to my letter
of September 7th, 1917.

After a most careful re-reading of my letter, I am unable to understand
how you could judge that any discussion by you of my reasons for
resigning would not be acceptable to me since my letter was an appeal
to you on specific grounds for action now by the Administration on the
Federal Suffrage amendment.

However, I am profoundly grateful to you for your prompt acceptance of
my resignation.

Yours respectfully,
(Signed) DUDLEY FIELD MALONE.


It may have been accidental but it is interesting to note that the
first public statement of Mr. Byron Newton, appointed by the
Administration to succeed Mr. Malone as Collector of the Port of New
York, was a bitter denunciation of all woman suffrage whether by state
or national action.




Chapter 8
The Administration Yields


Immediately after Mr. Malone’s sensational resignation the
Administration sought another way to remove the persistent pickets
without passing the amendment. It yielded on a point of machinery. It
gave us a report in the Senate and a committee in the House and
expected us to be grateful.

The press had turned again to more sympathetic accounts of our campaign
and exposed the prison regime we were undergoing. We were now for a
moment the object of sympathy; the Administration was the butt of
considerable hostility. Sensing their predicament and fearing any loss
of prestige, they risked a slight advance.

Senator Jones, Chairman of the Suffrage Committee, made a visit to the
workhouse. Scarcely had the women recovered from the surprise of his
visit when the Senator, on the following day, September 15th, filed the
favorable report which had been lying with his Committee since May
15th, exactly six months.

The Report, which he had so long delayed because he wanted [he said] to
make it a particularly brilliant and elaborate one, read:

“The Committee on Woman Suffrage, to which was referred the joint
resolution proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United
States, conferring upon women the right of suffrage, having the same
under consideration, beg leave to report it back to the Senate with the
recommendation that the joint resolution do pass.”

This report to the Senate was immediately followed by a vote of 181 to
107 in the House of Representatives in favor of creating a Committee on
Woman Suffrage in the House. This vote was indicative of the strength
of the amendment in the House. The resolution was sponsored by
Representative Pou, Chairman of the Rules Committee and Administration
leader, himself an anti- suffragist.

It is an interesting study in psychology to consider some of the
statements made in the peculiarly heated debate the day this vote was
taken.

Scores of Congressmen, anxious to refute the idea that the indomitable
picket had had anything to do with their action, revealed naively how
surely it had.

Of the 291 men present, not one man stood squarely up for the right of
the hundreds of women who petitioned for justice. Some indirectly and
many, inadvertently, however, paid eloquent tribute to the suffrage
picket.

From the moment Representative Pou in opening the debate spoke of the
nation-wide request for the committee, and the President’s sanction of
the committee, the accusations and counter- accusations concerning the
wisdom of appointing it in the face of the pickets were many and
animated.

Mr. Meeker of Missouri, Democrat, protested against Congress “yielding
to the nagging of a certain group.”

Mr. Cantrill of Kentucky, Democrat, believed that “millions of
Christian women in the nation should not be denied the right of having
a Committee in the House to study the problem of suffrage because of
the mistakes of some few of their sisters.”

“One had as well say,” he went on, “that there should be no police in
Washington because the police force of this city permitted daily
thousands of people to obstruct the streets and impede traffic and
permitted almost the mobbing of the women without arresting the
offenders. There was a lawful and peaceful way in which the police of
this city could have taken charge of the banners of the pickets without
permitting the women carrying them to be the objects of mob violence.
To see women roughly handled by rough men on the streets of the capital
of the nation is not a pleasing sight to Kentuckians and to red-blooded
Americans, and let us hope the like will never again be seen here.”

Mr. Walsh, an anti-suffrage Democrat from Massachusetts, deplored
taking any action which would seem to yield to the demand of the
pickets who carried banners which “if used by a poor workingman in an
attempt to get his rights would speedily have put him behind the bars
for treason or sedition, and these poor, bewildered, deluded creatures,
after their disgusting exhibition can thank their stars that because
they wear skirts they are now incarcerated for misdemeanors of a minor
character . . . . To supinely yield to a certain class of women
picketing the gates of the official residence,—yes, even posing with
their short skirts and their short hair within the view of this ‘very
capitol and our office buildings,’ with banners which would seek to
lead the people to believe that because we did not take action during
this war session upon suffrage, if you please, and grant them the right
of the ballot that we were traitors to the American Republic, would be
monstrous.”

The subject of the creation of a committee on suffrage was almost
entirely forgotten. The Congressmen were utterly unable to shake off
the ghosts of the pickets. The pickets had not influenced their
actions! The very idea was appalling to Representative Stafford of
Wisconsin, anti-suffrage Republican, who joined in the Democratic
protests. He said:

“If a Suffrage Committee is created the militant class will exclaim,
‘Ah, see how we have driven the great House of Representatives to
recognize our rights. If we keep up this sort of practices, we will
compel the House, when they come to vote on the constitutional
amendment, to surrender obediently likewise’.”

He spoke the truth, and finished dramatically with:

“Gentlemen, there is only one question before the House today and that
is, if you look at it from a political aspect, whether you wish to
approve of the practices of these women who have been disgracing their
cause here in Washington for the past several months.”

Representative Volstead, of Minnesota, Republican, came the closest of
all to real courage in his protest:—

“In this discussion some very unfair comments have been made upon the
women who picketed the White House. While I do not approve of
picketing, I disapprove more strongly of the hoodlum methods pursued in
suppressing the practice. I gather from the press that this is what
took place. Some women did in a peaceable, and perfectly lawful manner,
display suffrage banners on the public street near the White House. To
stop this the police allowed the women to be mobbed, and then because
the mob obstructed the street, the women were arrested and fined, while
the mob went scot-free . . . .”

The Suffrage Committee in the House was appointed. The creation of this
committee, which had been pending since 1913, was now finally granted
in September, 1917. To be sure this was accomplished only after an
inordinate amount of time, money and effort had been spent on a
sustained and relentless campaign of pressure. But the Administration
had yielded.

As a means to remove the pickets, however, this yielding had failed.
“We ask no more machinery; we demand the passage of the amendment,”
said the pickets as they lengthened their line.




Chapter 9
Political Prisoners


Finding that a Suffrage Committee in the House and a report in the
Senate had not silenced our banners, the Administration cast about for
another plan by which to stop the picketing. This time they turned
desperately to longer terms of imprisonment. They were indeed hard
pressed when they could choose such a cruel and stupid course.

Our answer to this policy was more women on the picket line, on the
outside, and a protest on the inside of prison.

We decided, in the face of extended imprisonment, to demand to be
treated as political prisoners. We felt that, as a matter of principle,
this was the dignified and self-respecting thing to do, since we had
offended politically, not criminally. We believed further that a
determined, organized effort to make clear to a wider public the
political nature of the offense would intensify the Administration’s
embarrassment and so accelerate their final surrender.

It fell to Lucy Burns, vice chairman of the organization, to be the
leader of the new protest. Miss Burns is in appearance the very symbol
of woman in revolt. Her abundant and glorious red hair burns and is not
consumed—a flaming torch. Her body is strong and vital. It is said that
Lucy Stone had the “voice” of the pioneers. Lucy Burns without doubt
possessed the “voice” of the modern suffrage movement. Musical,
appealing, persuading—she could move the most resistant person. Her
talent as an orator is of the kind that makes for instant intimacy with
her audience. Her emotional quality is so powerful that her
intellectual capacity, which is quite as great, is not always at once
perceived.

I find myself wanting to talk about her as a human being rather than as
a leader of women. Perhaps it is because she has such winning, lovable
qualities. It was always difficult for her to give all of her energy
and power to a movement. She yearned to play, to read, to study, to be
luxuriously indolent, to revel in the companionship of her family, to
which she is ardently devoted; to do any one of a hundred things more
pleasant than trying to reason with a politician or an unawakened
member of her own sex. But for these latter labors she had a most
gentle and persuasive genius, and she would not shrink from hours of
close argument to convince a person intellectually and emotionally.

Unlike Miss Paul, however, her force is not nonresistant. Once in the
combat she takes delight in it; she is by nature a rebel. She is an
ideal leader for the stormy and courageous attack—reckless and yet
never to the point of unwisdom.

From the time Miss Burns and Miss Paul met for the first time in Cannon
Row Police Station, London, they have been constant co- workers in
suffrage. Both were students abroad at the time they met. They were
among the hundred women arrested for attempting to present petitions
for suffrage to Parliament. This was the first time either of them had
participated in a demonstration. But from then on they worked together
in England and Scotland organizing, speaking, heckling members of the
government, campaigning at bye- elections; going to Holloway Prison
together, where they joined the Englishwomen on hunger strike. Miss
Burns remained organizing in Scotland while Miss Paul was obliged to
return to America after serious illness following a thirty day period
of imprisonment, during all of which time she was forcibly fed.

Miss Burns and she did not meet again until 1913—three years having
intervened—when they undertook the national work on Congress.
Throughout the entire campaign Miss Burns and Miss Paul counseled with
one another on every point of any importance. This combination of the
cool strategist and passionate rebel—each sharing some of the
attributes of the other-has been a complete and unsurpassed leadership.

You have now been introduced, most inadequately, to Lucy Burns, who was
to start the fight inside the prison.

She had no sooner begun to organize her comrades for protest than the
officials sensed a “plot,” and removed her at once to solitary
confinement. But they were too late. Taking the leader only hastened
the rebellion. A forlorn piece of paper was discovered, on which was
written their initial demand, It was then passed from prisoner to
prisoner through holes in the wall surrounding leaden pipes, until a
finished document had been perfected and signed by all the prisoners.

This historic document-historic because it represents the first
organized group action ever made in America to establish the status of
political prisoners—said:

To the Commissioners of the Distinct of Columbia:

As political prisoners, we, the undersigned, refuse to work while in
prison. We have taken this stand as a matter of principle after careful
consideration, and from it we shall not recede.

This action is a necessary protest against an unjust sentence. In
reminding President Wilson of his pre-election promises toward woman
suffrage we were exercising the right of peaceful petition, guaranteed
by the Constitution of the United States, which declares peaceful
picketing is legal in the District of Columbia. That we are unjustly
sentenced has been well recognized—when President Wilson pardoned the
first group of suffragists who had been given sixty days in the
workhouse, and again when Judge Mullowny suspended sentence for the
last group of picketers. We wish to point out the inconsistency and
injustice of our sentences—some of us have been given sixty days, a
later group thirty days, and another group given a suspended sentence
for exactly the same action.

Conscious, therefore, of having acted in accordance with the highest
standards of citizenship, we ask the Commissioners of the District to
grant us the rights due political prisoners. We ask that we no longer
be segregated and confined under locks and bars in small groups, but
permitted to see each other, and that Miss Lucy Burns, who is in full
sympathy with this letter, be released from solitary confinement in
another building and given back to us.

We ask exemption from prison work, that our legal right to consult
counsel be recognized, to have food sent to us from outside, to supply
ourselves with writing material for as much correspondence as we may
need, to receive books, letters, newspapers, our relatives and friends.

Our united demand for political treatment has been delayed, because on
entering the workhouse we found conditions so very bad that before we
could ask that the suffragists be treated as political prisoners, it
was necessary to make a stand for the ordinary rights of human beings
for all the inmates. Although this has not been accomplished we now
wish to bring the important question of the status of political
prisoners to the attention of the commissioners, who, we are informed,
have full authority to make what regulations they please for the
:District prison and workhouse.

The Commissioners are requested to send us a written reply so that we
may be sure this protest has reached them.

Signed by,

MARY WINSOR, LUCY BRANHAM, ERNESTINE HARA, HILDA BLUMBERG, MAUD MALONE,
PAULINE F. ADAMS, ELEANOR. A. CALNAN, EDITH AINGE, ANNIE ARNEIL,
DOROTHY J. BARTLETT, MARGARET FOTHERINGHAM.

The Commissioners’ only answer to this was a hasty transfer of the
signers and the leader, Miss Burns, to the District Jail, where they
were put in solitary confinement. The women were not only refused the
privileges asked but were denied some of the usual privileges allowed
to ordinary criminals.

Generous publicity was given to these reasonable demands, and a
surprisingly wide-spread protest followed the official denial of them.
Scores of committees went to the District Commissioners. Telegrams
backing up the women’s demand again poured in upon all responsible
administrators, from President Wilson down. Not even foreign diplomats
escaped protest or appeal.

Miss Vera Samarodin sent to the Russian Ambassador the following
touching letter, concerning her sister, which is translated from the
Russian:—

The Russian Ambassador,
Washington, D.C.

Excellency:

I am appealing to you to help a young Russian girl imprisoned in the
workhouse near Washington. Her name is Nina Samarodin. I have just come
from one of the two monthly visits I am allowed to make her, as a
member of her family.

The severity and cruelty of the treatment she is receiving at Occoquan
are so much greater than she would have to suffer in Russia for the
simple political offense she is accused of having committed that I hope
you will be able to intercede with the officials of this country for
her.

Her offense, aside from the fact that she infringed no law nor
disturbed the peace, had only a political aim, and was proved to be
political by the words of the judge who sentenced her, for he declared
that because of the innocent inscription on her banner he would make
her sentence light.

Since her imprisonment she has been forced to wear the dress of a
criminal, which she would not in Russia; she has had to eat only the
coarse and unpalatable food served the criminal inmates, and has not
been allowed, as she would in Russia, to have other food brought to
her; nor has she, as she would be there been under the daily care of a
physician. She is not permitted to write letters, nor to have free
access to books and other implements of study. Nina Samarodin has
visibly lost in weight and strength since her imprisonment, and she has
a constant headache from hunger.

Her motive in holding the banner by the White House, I feel, cannot but
appeal to you, Excellency, for she says it was the knowledge that her
family were fighting in Russia in this great war for democracy, and
that she was cut off from serving with them that made her desire to do
what she could to help the women of this nation achieve the freedom her
own people have.

Will you, if it is within your power, attempt to have her recognized as
a political prisoner, and relieve the severity of the treatment she is
receiving for obeying this impulse born of her love of liberty and the
dictates of her conscience?

I have, Excellency, the honor to be,

Respectfully, your countrywoman,
(Signed) VERA SAMARODIN,
Baltimore, Maryland.


Another Russian, Maria Moravsky, author and poet, who had herself been
imprisoned in Czarist Russia and who was touring America at the time of
this controversy, expressed her surprise that our suffrage prisoners
should be treated as common criminals. She wrote:[1] “I have been twice
in the Russian prison; life in the solitary cell was not sweet; but I
can assure you it was better than that which American women suffragists
must bear.

[1] Reprinted from The Suffragist, Feb. 8, 1919.


“We were permitted to read and write; we wore our own clothes; we were
not forced to mix with the criminals; we did no work. (Only a few women
exiled to Siberia for extremely serious political crimes were compelled
to work.) And our guardians and even judges respected us; they felt we
were victims, because we struggled for liberty.”

The Commissioners, who bad to bear the responsibility of an answer to
these protests and to the demand of the prisoners, contended to all
alike that political prisoners did not exist.

“We shall be happy to establish a precedent,” said the women.

“But in America,” stammered the Commissioners, “there is no need for
such a thing as political prisoners.”

“The very fact that we can be sentenced to such long terms for a
political offense shows that there does exist, in fact, a group of
people who have come into conflict with state power for dissenting from
the prevailing political system,” our representatives answered.

We cited definitions of political offenses by eminent criminologists,
penologists, sociologists, statesmen and historians. We declared that
all authorities on political crime sustained our contention and that we
clearly came under the category of political, if any crime. We pointed
as proof to James Bryce, George Sigerson, Maurice Parmelee and even to
Clemenceau, who defined the distinction between political offenses and
common law crimes thus: “ . . . theoretically a crime committed in the
interest of the criminal is a common law crime, while an offense
committed in the public interest is a political crime.”[1]

[1] Speech before the French Chamber of Deputies May 16, 1876,
advocating amnesty for those who participated in the Commune of 1871.
From the Annales de la Chambre des Députés, 1876, v. 2, pp. 44-48.


We called to their attention the established custom of special
treatment of political prisoners in Russia, France, Italy and even
Turkey.[2]

[2] Those interested in the question of political prisoners and their
treatment abroad may want to read Concerning Political Prisoners,
Appendix 6.


We told them that as early as 1872 the International Prison Congress
meeting in London recommended a distinction in the treatment of
political and common law criminals and the resolution of recommendation
was “agreed upon by the representatives of all the Powers of Europe and
America—with the tacit concurrence of British and Irish officials.”[3]

[3] Siegerson, Political Prisoners at Home and Abroad, p. 10.


Mr. John Koren, International Prison Commissioner[4] for the United
States, was throughout this agitation making a study of this very
problem. As chairman of a Special Committee of the American Prison
Association, empowered to investi- gate the problem of political
prisoners for America, he made a report at the annual meeting of the
American Prison Associ- ation in New York, October, 1919, entitled “The
Political Of fenders and their Status in Prison”[5] in which he says:

[4] Appointed and sponsored by the Department of State as delegate to
the International Prison Congress.


[5] Mr. Koren discusses the political offender from the penological,
not the social, point of view.


“The political offender . . . must be measured by a different rule, and
. . . is a creature of extraordinary and temporary conditions . . . .

“There are times in which the tactics used in the pursuit of political
recognition may result in a technical violation of the law for which
imprisonment ensues, as witness the suffragist cases in Washington . .
. . These militants were completely out of place in a workhouse, . . .
they could not be made to submit to discipline fashioned to meet the
needs of the derelicts of society, and . . . they therefore destroyed
it for the entire institution.”

There was no doubt in the official mind but that our claim was just.
But the Administration would not grant this demand, as such, of
political prisoners. It must continue to persuade public opinion that
our offense was not of a political nature; that it was nothing more
than unpleasant and unfortunate riotous conduct in the capital. The
legend of “a few slightly mad women seeking notoriety” must be
sustained. Our demand was never granted, but it was kept up until the
last imprisonment and was soon reinforced by additional protest
tactics. Our suffrage prisoners, however, made an important
contribution toward establishing this reform which others will
consummate. They were the first in America to organize and sustain this
demand over a long period of time. In America we maintain a most
backward policy in dealing with political prisoners. We have neither
regulation nor precedent for special treatment of them. Nor have we
official flexibility.

This controversy was at its height in the press and in the public mind
when President Wilson sent the following message, through a New York
State suffrage leader, on behalf of the approaching New York referendum
on state woman suffrage:

“May I not express to you my very deep interest in the campaign in New
York for the adoption of woman suffrage, and may I not say that I hope
no voter will be influenced in his decision with regard to the great
matter by anything the so-called pickets may have done here in
Washington. However justly they may have laid themselves open to
serious criticism, their action represents, I am sure, so small a
fraction of the women of the country who are urging the adoption of
woman suffrage that it would be most unfair and argue a narrow view to
allow their actions to prejudice the cause itself. I am very anxious to
see the great state of New York set a great example in this matter.”

This statement showed a political appreciation of the growing power of
the movement. Also it would be difficult to prove that the “small
fraction” had not shown political wisdom in injecting into the campaign
the embarrassment of a controversy which was followed by the above
statement of *the President. In the meantime he continued to imprison
in Washington the “so-called pickets” whom he hoped would not influence
the decision of the men voters of New York. It will be remembered, in
passing, that the New York voters adopted suffrage at this time,
although they had rejected it two years earlier. If the voters of New
York were influenced at all by the “so-called pickets,” could even
President Wilson himself satisfactorily prove that it had been an
adverse influence?




Chapter 10
The Hunger Strike—A Weapon


When the Administration refused to grant the demand of the prisoners
and of that portion of the public which supported them, for the rights
of political prisoners, it was decided to resort to the ultimate
protest-weapon inside prison. A hunger strike was undertaken, not only
to reinforce the verbal demand for the rights of political prisoners,
but also as a final protest against unjust imprisonment and
increasingly long sentences. This brought the Administration face to
face with a more acute embarrassment. They had to choose between more
stubborn resistance and capitulation: They continued for a while longer
on the former path.

Little is known in this country about the weapon of the hunger strike.
And so at first it aroused tremendous indignation. “Let them starve to
death,” said the thoughtless one, who did not perceive that that was
the very thing a political administration could least afford to do.
“Mad fanatics,” said a kindlier critic. The general opinion was that
the hunger strike was “foolish.”

Few people realize that this resort to the refusal of food is almost as
old as civilization. It has always represented a passionate desire to
achieve an end. There is not time to go into the religious use of it,
which would also be pertinent, but I will cite a few instances which
have tragic and amusing likenesses to the suffrage hunger strike.

According to the Brehon Law,[1] which was the code of ancient Ireland
by which justice was administered under ancient Irish monarchs (from
the earliest record to the 17th century), it became the duty of an
injured person, when all else failed, to inflict punishment directly,
for wrong done. “The plaintiff ‘fasted on’ the defendant.” He went to
the house of the defendant and sat upon his doorstep, remaining there
without food to force the payment of a debt, for example. The debtor
was compelled by the weight of custom and public opinion not to let the
plaintiff die at his door, and yielded. Or if he did not yield, he was
practically outlawed by the community, to the point of being driven
away. A man who refused to abide by the custom not only incurred
personal danger but lost all character.

[1] Joyce, A Social History of Ancient Ireland, Vol. I, Chapter VIII.


If resistance to this form of protest was resorted to it had to take
the form of a counter-fast. If the victim of such a protest thought
himself being unjustly coerced, he might fast in opposition, “to
mitigate or avert the evil.”

“Fasting on a man” was also a mode of compelling action of another
sort. St. Patrick fasted against King Trian to compel him to have
compassion on his [Trian’s] slaves.[1] He also fasted against a
heretical city to compel it to become orthodox.[2] He fasted against
the pagan King Loeguire to “constrain him to his will.”[3]

[1] Tripartite Life of St. Patrick, CLXXVII, p. 218.
[2] Ibid. CLXXVII, p. 418.
[3] Ibid. CLXXVII, p. 556.


This form of hunger strike was further used under the Brehon Law as
compulsion to obtain a request. For example, the Leinstermen on one
occasion fasted on St. Columkille till they obtained from him the
promise that an extern King should never prevail against them.

It is interesting to note that this form of direct action was adopted
because there was no legislative machinery to enforce justice. These
laws were merely a collection of customs attaining the force of law by
long usage, by hereditary habit, and by public opinion. Our resort to
this weapon grew out of the same situation. The legislative machinery,
while empowered to give us redress, failed to function, and so we
adopted the fast.

The institution of fasting on a debtor still exists in the East. It is
called by the Hindoos “sitting dharna.”

The hunger strike was continuously used in Russia by prisoners to
obtain more humane practices toward them. Kropotkin[1] cites an
instance in which women prisoners hunger struck to get their babies
back. If a child was born to a woman during her imprisonment the babe
was immediately taken from her and not returned. Mothers struck and got
their babies returned to them.

[1] See In Russian and French Prisons, P. Kropotkin.


He cites another successful example in Rharkoff prison in 1878 when six
prisoners resolved to hunger strike to death if necessary to win two
things—to be allowed exercise and to have the sick prisoners taken out
of chains.

There are innumerable instances of hunger strikes, even to death, in
Russian prison history. But more often the demands of the strikers were
won.. Breshkovsky[2] tells of a strike by 17 women against outrage,
which elicited the desired promises from the warden.

[2] For Russia’s Freedom, by Ernest Poole,—An Interview with
Breshkovsky.


As early as 1877 members of the Land and Liberty Society[3] imprisoned
for peaceful and educational propaganda, in the Schlusselburg Fortress
for political prisoners, hunger struck against inhuman prison
conditions and frightful brutalities and won their points.

[3]See The Russian Bastille, Simon O. Pollock.

During the suffrage campaign in England this weapon was used for the
double purpose of forcing the release of imprisoned militant
suffragettes, and of compelling the British government to act.

Among the demonstrations was a revival of the ancient Irish custom by
Sylvia Pankhurst, who in addition to her hunger strikes within prison,
“fasted on” the doorstep of Premier Asquith to compel him to see a
deputation of women on the granting of suffrage to English women. She
won.

Irish prisoners have revived the hunger strike to compel either release
or trial of untried prisoners and have Lyon. As I write, almost a
hundred Irish prisoners detained by England for alleged nationalist
activities, but not brought to trial, hunger struck to freedom. As a
direct result of this specific hunger strike England has promised a
renovation of her practices in dealing with Irish rebels.

And so it was that when we came to the adoption of this accelerating
tactic, we had behind us more precedents for winning our point than for
losing. We were strong in the knowledge that we could “fast on”
President Wilson and his powerful Administration, and compel him to act
or “fast back.”

Among the prisoners who with Alice Paul led the hunger strike was a
very picturesque figure, Rose Winslow (Ruza Wenclawska) of New York,
whose parents had brought her in infancy from Poland to become a
citizen of “free” America. At eleven she was put at a loom in a
Pennsylvania mill, where she wove hosiery for fourteen hours a day
until tuberculosis claimed her at nineteen. A poet by nature she
developed her mind to the full in spite of these disadvantages, and
when she was forced to abandon her loom she became an organizer for the
Consumers’ League, and later a vivid and eloquent power in the suffrage
movement.

Her group preceded Miss Paul’s by about a week in prison.

These vivid sketches of Rose Winslow’s impressions while in the prison
hospital were written on tiny scraps of paper and smuggled out to us,
and to her husband during her imprisonment. I reprint them in their
original form with cuts but no editing.

“If this thing is necessary we will naturally go through with it. Force
is so stupid a weapon. I feel so happy doing my bit for decency-for our
war, which is after all, real and fundamental.”


“The women are all so magnificent, so beautiful. Alice Paul is as thin
as ever, pale and large-eyed. We have been in solitary for five weeks.
There is nothing to tell but that the days go by somehow. I have felt
quite feeble the last few days—faint, so that I could hardly get my
hair brushed, my arms ached so. But to-day I am well again. Alice Paul
and I talk back and forth though we are at opposite ends of the
building and, a hall door also shuts us apart. But
occasionally—thrills—we escape from behind our iron-barred doors and
visit. Great laughter and rejoicing!”


To her husband:—

“My fainting probably means nothing except that I am not strong after
these weeks. I know you won’t be alarmed.

“I told about a syphilitic colored woman with one leg. The other one
cut off, having rotted so that it was alive with maggots when she came
in. The remaining one is now getting as bad. They are so short of
nurses that a little colored girl of twelve, who is here waiting to
have her tonsils removed, waits on her. This child and two others share
a ward with a syphilitic child of three or four years, whose mother
refused to have it at home. It makes you absolutely ill to see it. I am
going to break all three windows as a protest against their confining
Alice Paul with these!

“Dr. Gannon is chief of a hospital. Yet Alice Paul and I found we had
been taking baths in one of the tubs here, in which this syphilitic
child, an incurable, who has his eyes bandaged all the time, is also
bathed. He has been here a year. Into the room where he lives came
yesterday two children to be operated on for tonsillitis. They also
bathed in the same tub. The syphilitic woman has been in that room
seven months. Cheerful mixing, isn’t it? The place is alive with
roaches, crawling all over the walls, everywhere. I found one in my bed
the other day . . . .”


“There is great excitement about my two syphilitics. Each nurse is
being asked whether she told me. So, as in all institutions where an
unsanitary fact is made public, no effort is made to make the wrong
itself right. All hands fall to, to find the culprit, who made it
known, and he is punished.”


“Alice Paul is in the psychopathic ward. She dreaded forcible feeding
frightfully, and I hate to think how she must be feeling. I had a
nervous time of it, gasping a long time afterward, and my stomach
rejecting during the process. I spent a bad, restless night, but
otherwise I am all right. The poor soul who fed me got liberally
besprinkled during the process. I heard myself making the most hideous
sounds . . . . One feels so forsaken when one lies prone and people
shove a pipe down one’s stomach.”


“This morning but for an astounding tiredness, I am all right. I am
waiting to see what happens when the President realizes that brutal
bullying isn’t quite a statesmanlike method for settling a demand for
justice at home. At least, if men are supine enough to endure, women—to
their eternal glory—are not.

“They took down the boarding from Alice Paul’s window yesterday, I
heard. It is so delicious about Alice and me. Over in the jail a rumor
began that I was considered insane and would be examined. Then came
Doctor White, and said he had come to see ‘the thyroid case.’ When they
left we argued about the matter, neither of us knowing which was
considered ‘suspicious.’ She insisted it was she, and, as it happened,
she was right. Imagine any one thinking Alice Paul needed to be ‘under
observation!’ The thick-headed idiots!”


“Yesterday was a bad day for me in feeding. I was vomiting continually
during the process. The tube has developed an irritation somewhere that
is painful.

“Never was there a sentence[1] like ours for such an offense as ours,
even in England. No woman ever got it over there even for tearing down
buildings. And during all that agitation we were busy saying that never
would such things happen in the United States. The men told us they
would not endure such frightfulness.”

[1] Sentence of seven months for “obstructing traffic.”

“Mary Beard and Helen Todd were allowed to stay only a minute, and I
cried like a fool. I am getting over that habit, I think.

“I fainted again last night. I just fell flop over in the bathroom
where I was washing my hands and was led to bed when I recovered, by a
nurse. I lost. consciousness just as I got there again. I felt horribly
faint until 12 o’clock, then fell asleep for awhile.”


“I was getting frantic because you seemed to think Alice was with me in
the hospital. She was in the psychopathic ward. The same doctor feeds
us both, and told me. Don’t let them tell you we take this well. Miss
Paul vomits much. I do, too, except when I’m not nervous, as I have
been every time against my will. I try to be less feeble-minded. It’s
the nervous reaction, and I can’t control it much. I don’t imagine
bathing one’s food in tears very good for one.

“We think of the coming feeding all day. It is horrible. The doctor
thinks I take it well. I hate the thought of Alice Paul and the others
if I take it well.”


“We still get no mail; we are ‘insubordinate.’ It’s strange, isn’t it;
if you ask for food fit to eat, as we did, you are ‘insubordinate’; and
if you refuse food you are ‘insubordinate.’ Amusing. I am really all
right. If this continues very long I perhaps won’t be. I am interested
to see how long our so-called ‘splendid American men’ will stand for
this form of discipline.

“All news cheers one marvelously because it is hard to feel anything
but a bit desolate and forgotten here in this place.

“All the officers here know we are making this hunger strike that women
fighting for liberty may be considered political prisoners; we have
told them. God knows we don’t want other women ever to have to do this
over again.”


There have been sporadic and isolated cases of hunger strikes in this
country but to my knowledge ours was the first to be organized and
sustained over a long period of time. We shall see in subsequent
chapters how effective this weapon was.




Chapter 11
Administration Terrorism


The Administration tried in another way to stop picketing. It sentenced
the leader, Alice Paul, to the absurd and desperate sentence of seven
months in the Washington jail for “obstructing traffic.”

With the “leader” safely behind the bars for so long a time, the
agitation would certainly weaken! So thought the Administration! To
their great surprise, however, in the face of that reckless and extreme
sentence, the longest picket line of the entire campaign formed at the
White House in the late afternoon of November 10th. Forty-one women
picketed in protest against this wanton persecution of their leader, as
well as against the delay in passing the amendment. Face to face with
an embarrassing number of prisoners the Administration used its wits
and decided to reduce the number to a manageable size before
imprisoning this group. Failing of that they tried still another way
out. They resorted to imprisonment with terrorism.

In order to show how widely representative of the nation this group of
pickets was, I give its personnel complete:

First Group

New York—Mrs. John Winters Brannan, Miss Belle Sheinberg, Mrs. L. H.
Hornsby, Mrs. Paula Jakobi, Mrs. Cynthia Cohen, Miss M. Tilden Burritt,
Miss Dorothy Day, Mrs. Henry Butterworth, Miss Cora Week, Mrs. P. B.
Johns, Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, Mrs. Ella O. Guilford, New York City;
Miss Amy Juengling, Miss Hattie Kruger, Buffalo.

Second Group

Massachusetts—Mrs. Agnes H. Morey, Brookline; Mrs. William Bergen and
Miss Camilla Whitcomb, Worcester; Miss Ella Findeisen, Lawrence; Miss
L. J. C. Daniels, Boston.
New Jersey—Mrs. George Scott, Montclair.
Pennsylvania—Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Miss Elizabeth McShane, Miss
Katherine Lincoln, Philadelphia.

Third Group

California—Mrs. William Kent, Kentfield.
Oregon—Miss Alice Gram, Miss Betty Gram, Portland.
Utah—Mrs. R. B. Quay, Mrs. T. C. Robertson, Salt Lake City.
Colorado—Mrs. Eva Decker, Colorado Springs, Mrs. Genevieve Williams,
Manitou.

Fourth Group

Indiana—Mrs. Charles W. Barnes, Indianapolis.
Oklahoma—Mrs. Kate Stafford, Oklahoma City.
Minnesota—Mrs. J. H. Short, Minneapolis.
Iowa—Mrs. A. N. Beim, Des Moines; Mrs. Catherine Martinette, Eagle
Grove.

Fifth Group

New York—Miss Lucy Burns, New York City.
District of Columbia—Mrs. Harvey Wiley.
Louisiana—Mrs. Alice M. Cosu, New Orleans.
Maryland—Miss Mary Bartlett Dixon, Easton; Miss Julia Emory, Baltimore.
Florida—Mrs. Mary I. Nolan, Jacksonville.

There were exceptionally dramatic figures in this group. Mrs. Mary
Nolan of Florida, seventy-three years old, frail in health but militant
in spirit, said she had come to take her place with the women
struggling for liberty in the same spirit that her revolutionary
ancestor, Eliza Zane, had carried bullets to the fighters in the war
for independence.

Mrs. Harvey Wiley looked appealing and beautiful as she said in court,
“We took this action with great consecration of spirit, with
willingness to sacrifice personal liberty for al] the women of the
country.”

Judge Mullowny addressed the prisoners with many high-sounding words
about the seriousness of obstructing the traffic in the national
capital, and inadvertently slipped into a discourse on Russia, and the
dangers of revolution. We always wondered why the government was not
clever enough to eliminate political discourses, at least during
trials, where the offenders were charged with breaking a slight
regulation. But their minds were too full of the political aspect of
our offense to conceal it. “The truth of the situation is that the
court has not been given power to meet it,” the judge lamented. “It is
very, very puzzling—I find you guilty of the offense charged, but will
take the matter of sentence under advisement.”

And so the “guilty” pickets were summarily released.

The Administration did not relish the incarceration of forty-one women
for another reason than limited housing accommodations. Forty-one women
representing sixteen states in the union might create a considerable
political dislocation. But these same forty-one women were determined
to force the Administration to take its choice. It could allow them to
continue their peaceful agitation or it could stand the reaction which
was bound to come from imprisoning them. And so the forty-one women
returned to the White House gates to resume’ their picketing. They
stood guard several minutes before the police, taken unawares, could
summon sufficient force to arrest them, and commandeer enough cars to
carry them to police headquarters. As the Philadelphia North American
pointed out: “There was no disorder. The crowd waited with interest and
in a noticeably friendly spirit to see what would happen. There were
frequent references to the pluck of the silent sentinels.”

The following morning the women were ordered by Judge Mullowny to “come
back on Friday. I am not yet prepared to try the case.”

Logic dictated that either we had a right to stand at the gates with
our banners or we did not have that right; but the Administration was
not interested in logic. It had to stop picketing. Whether this was
done legally or illegally, logically or illogically, clumsily or
dexterously, was of secondary importance. Picketing must be stopped!

Using their welcome release to continue their protest, the women again
marched with their banners to the White House in an attempt to picket.
Again they were arrested. No one who saw that line will ever forget the
impression it made, not only on friends of the suffragists, but on the
general populace of Washington, to see these women force with such
magnificent defiance the hand of a wavering Administration. On the
following morning they were sentenced to from six days to six months in
prison. Miss Burns received six months.

In pronouncing the lightest sentence upon Mrs. Nolan, the judge said
that he did so on account of her age. He urged her, however, to pay her
fine, hinting that jail might be too severe on her and might bring on
death. At this suggestion, tiny Mrs. Nolan pulled herself up on her
toes and said with great dignity: “Your Honor, I have a nephew fighting
for democracy in France. He is offering his life for his country. I
should be ashamed if I did not join these brave women in their fight
for democracy in America. I should be proud of the honor to die in
prison for the liberty of American women.” Even the judge seemed moved
by her beautiful and simple spirit.

In spite of the fact that the women were sentenced to serve their
sentences in the District Jail, where they would join Miss Paul and her
companions, all save one were immediately sent to Occoquan workhouse.

It had been agreed that the demand to be treated as political
prisoners, inaugurated by previous pickets, should be continued, and
that failing to secure such rights they would unanimously refuse to eat
food or do prison labor.

Any words of mine would be inadequate to tell the story of the
prisoners’ reception at the Occoquan workhouse. The following is the
statement of Mrs. Nolan, dictated upon her release, in the presence of
Mr. Dudley Field Malone:

It was about half past seven at night when we got to Occoquan
workhouse. A woman [Mrs. Herndon] was standing behind a desk when we
were brought into this office, and there were five or six men also in
the room. Mrs. Lewis, who spoke for all of us, . . . said she must
speak to Whittaker, the superintendent of the place.

“You’ll sit here all night, then,” said Mrs. Herndon.

I saw men begin to come upon the porch, but I didn’t think anything
about it. Mrs. Herndon called my name, but I did not answer. . . ’

Suddenly the door literally burst open and Whittaker burst in like a
tornado; some men followed him. We could see a crowd of them on the
porch. They were not in uniform. They looked as much like tramps as
anything. They seemed to come in—and in—and in. One had a face that
made me think of an ourang-outang. Mrs. Lewis stood up. Some of us had
been sitting and lying on the floor, we were so tired. She had hardly
begun to speak, saying we demanded to be treated as political
prisoners, when Whittaker said:

“You shut up. I have men here to handle you.” Then he shouted, “Seize
her!” I turned and saw men spring toward her, and then some one
screamed, “They have taken Mrs. Lewis.”

A man sprang at me and caught me by the shoulder. I am used to
remembering a bad foot, which I have had for years, and I remember
saying, “I’ll come with you; don’t drag me; I have a lame foot.” But I
was jerked down the steps and away into the dark. I didn’t have my feet
on the ground. I guess that saved me. I heard Mrs. Cosu, who was being
dragged along with me, call, “Be careful of your foot.”

Out of doors it was very dark. The building to which they took us was
lighted up as we came to it. I only remember the American flag flying
above it because it caught the light from a window in the wing. We were
rushed into a large room that we found opened on a large hall with
stone cells on each side. They were perfectly dark. Punishment cells is
what they call them. Mine was filthy. It had no window save a slip at
the top and no furniture but an iron bed covered with a thin straw pad,
and an open toilet flushed from outside the cell . . . .

In the hall outside was a man called Captain Reems. He had on a uniform
and was brandishing a thick stick and shouting as we were shoved into
the corridor, “Damn you, get in here.”

I saw Dorothy Day brought in. She is a frail girl. The two men handling
her were twisting her arms above her head. Then suddenly they lifted
her up and banged her down over the arm of an iron bench—twice. As they
ran me past, she was lying there with her arms out, and we heard one of
the men yell, “The —— suffrager! My mother ain’t no suffrager. I’ll put
you through ——.”

At the end of the corridor they pushed me through a door. Then I lost
my balance and fell against the iron bed. Mrs. Cosu struck the wall.
Then they threw in two mats and two dirty blankets. There was no light
but from the corridor. The door was barred from top to bottom. The
walls and floors were brick or stone cemented over. Mrs. Cosu would not
let me lie on the floor. She put me on the couch and stretched out on
the floor on one of the two pads they threw in. We had only lain there
a few minutes, trying to get our breath, when Mrs. Lewis, doubled over
and handled like a sack of something, was literally thrown in. Her head
struck the iron bed. We thought she was dead. She didn’t move. We were
crying over her as we lifted her to the pad on my bed, when we heard
Miss Burns call:

“Where is Mrs. Nolan?”

I replied, “I am here.”

Mrs. Cosu called out, “They have just thrown Mrs. Lewis in here, too.”

At this Mr. Whittaker came to the door and told us not to dare to
speak, or he would put the brace and bit in our mouths and the
straitjacket on our bodies. We were so terrified we kept very still.
Mrs. Lewis was not unconscious; she was only stunned. But Mrs. Cosu was
desperately ill as the night wore on. She had a bad heart attack and
was then vomiting. We called and called. We asked them1to send our own
doctor, because we thought she was dying . . . . They [the guards paid
no attention. A cold wind blew in on us from the outside, and we three
lay there shivering and only half conscious until morning.

“One at a time, come out,” we heard some one call at the barred door
early in the morning. I went first. I bade them both good- by. I didn’t
know where I was going or whether I would ever see them again. They
took me to Mr. Whittaker’s office, where he called my name.

“You’re Mrs. Mary Nolan,” said Whittaker.

“You’re posted,” said I.

“Are you willing to put on prison dress and go to the workroom?” said
he.

I said, “No.”

“Don’t you know now that I am Mr. Whittaker, the superintendent?” he
asked.

“Is there any age limit to your workhouse?” I said. “Would a woman of
seventy-three or a child of two be sent here?”

I think I made him think. He motioned to the guard.

“Get a doctor to examine her,” he said.

In the hospital cottage I was met by Mrs. Herndon and taken to a little
room with two white beds and a hospital table.

“You can lie down if you want to,” she said.

I took off my coat and hat. I just lay down on the bed and fell into a
kind of stupor. It was nearly noon and I had had no food offered me
since the sandwiches our friends brought us in the courtroom at noon
the day before.

The doctor came and examined my heart. Then he examined my lame foot.
It had a long blue bruise above the ankle, where they had knocked me as
they took me across the night before. He asked me what caused’ the
bruise. I said, “Those fiends when they dragged me to the cell last
night.” It was paining me. He asked if I wanted liniment and I said
only hot water. They brought that, and I noticed they did not lock the
door. A negro trusty was there. I fell back again into the same stupor.

The next day they brought me some toast and a plate of food, the first
I had been offered in over 36 hours. I just looked at the food and
motioned it away. It made me sick . . . . I was released on the sixth
day and passed the dispensary as I came out. There were a group of my
friends, Mrs. Brannan and Mrs. Morey and many others. They had on
coarse striped dresses and big, grotesque, heavy shoes. I burst into
tears as they led me away.

(Signed) MARY I. NOLAN.
November 21, 1917,


The day following their commitment to Occoquan Mr. O’Brien, of counsel,
was directed to see the women, to ascertain their condition. Friends
and relatives were alarmed, as not a line of news had been allowed to
penetrate to the world. Mr. O’Brien was denied admission and forced to
come back to Washington without any report whatsoever.

The next day Mr. O’Brien again attempted to see his clients, as did
also the mother of Miss Matilda Young, the youngest prisoner in Mr.
Whittaker’s care, and Miss Katherine Morey, who went asking to see her
mother. Miss Morey was held under armed guard half a mile from the
prison. Admission was denied to all of them.

The terrible anxiety at Headquarters was not relieved the third day by
a report brought from the workhouse by one of the marines stationed at
Quantico Station, Virginia, who had been summoned to the workhouse on
the night the women arrived. He brought news that unknown tortures were
going on. Mr. O’Brien immediately forced his way through by a court
order, and brought back to Headquarters the astounding news of the
campaign of terrorism which had started the moment the prisoners had
arrived, and which was being continued at that moment. Miss Lucy Burns,
who had assumed responsibility for the welfare of the women, had
managed to secrete small scraps of paper and a tiny pencil, and jot
down briefly the day by day events at the workhouse.

This week of brutality, which rivaled old Russia, if it did not
outstrip it, was almost the blackest page in the Administration’s cruel
fight against women.

Here are some of the scraps of Miss Burn’s day-by-day log, smuggled out
of the workhouse. Miss Burns is so gifted a writer that I feel
apologetic for using these scraps in their raw form, but I know she
will forgive me.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14. Demanded to see Superintendent Whittaker.
Request refused. Mrs. Herndon, the matron, said we would have to wait
up all night. One of the men guards said he would “put us in sardine
box and put mustard on us.” Superintendent Whittaker came at 9 p. m. He
refused to hear our demand for political rights. Seized by guards from
behind, flung off my feet, and shot out of the room. All of us were
seized by men guards and dragged to cells in men’s part. Dorothy Day
was roughly used-back twisted. Mrs. Mary A. Nolan (73-year-old picket
from Jacksonville, Florida) flung into cell. Mrs. Lawrence Lewis shot
past my cell. I slept with Dorothy Day in a single bed. I was
handcuffed all night and manacled to the bars part of the time for
asking the others how they were, and was threatened with a straitjacket
and a buckle gag.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16 . . . . Asked for Whittaker, who came. He seized
Julia Emory by the back of her neck and threw her into the room very
brutally. She is a little girl. I asked for counsel to learn the status
of the case. I was told to “shut up,” and was again threatened with a
straitjacket and a buckle gag. Later I was taken to put on prison
clothes, refused and resisted strenuously. I was then put in a room
where delirium tremens patients are kept.

On the seventh day, when Miss Lucy Burns and Mrs. Lawrence Lewis were
so weak that Mr. Whittaker feared their death, they were forcibly fed
and taken immediately to the jail in Washington. Of the experience Mrs.
Lewis wrote:—

I was seized and laid on my back, where five people held me, a young
colored woman leaping upon my knees, which seemed to break under the
weight. Dr. Gannon then forced the tube through my lips and down my
throat, I gasping and suffocating with the agony of it. I didn’t know
where to breathe from and everything turned black when the fluid began
pouring in. I was moaning and making the most awful sounds quite
against my will, for I did not wish to disturb my friends in the next
room. Finally the tube was withdrawn. I lay motionless. After a while I
was dressed and carried in a chair to a waiting automobile, laid on the
back seat and driven into Washington to the jail hospital. Previous to
the feeding I had been forcibly examined by Dr. Gannon, I protesting
that I wished a woman physician.

Of this experience, Miss Burns wrote on tiny scraps of paper:

WEDNESDAY, 12 m. Yesterday afternoon at about four or five, Mrs. Lewis
and I were asked to go to the operating room. Went there and found our
clothes. Told we were to go to Washington. No reason as usual. When we
were dressed, Dr. Gannon appeared, and said he wished to examine us.
Both refused. Were dragged through halls by force, our clothing partly
removed by force, and we were examined, heart tested, blood pressure
and pulse taken. Of course such data was of no value after such a
struggle. Dr. Gannon told me then I must be fed. Was stretched on bed,
two doctors, matron, four colored prisoners present, Whittaker in hall.
I was held down by five people at legs, arms, and head. I refused to
open mouth. Gannon pushed tube up left nostril. I turned and twisted my
head all I could, but he managed to push it up. It hurts nose and
throat very much and makes nose bleed freely. Tube drawn out covered
with blood. Operation leaves one very sick. Food dumped directly into
stomach feels like a ball of lead. Left nostril, throat and muscles of
neck very sore all night. After this I was brought into the hospital in
an ambulance. Mrs. Lewis and I placed in same room. Slept hardly at
all. This morning Dr. Ladd appeared with his tube. Mrs. Lewis and I
said we would not be forcibly fed. Said he would call in men guards and
force us to submit. Went away and we were not fed at all this morning.
We hear them outside now cracking eggs.

With Miss Burns and Mrs. Lewis, who were regarded as leaders in the
hunger strike protest, removed to the district jail, Mr. Whittaker and
his staff at Occoquan began a systematic attempt to break down the
morale of the hunger strikers. Each one was called to the mat and
interrogated.

“Will you work?”—“Will you put on prison clothes?”—“Will you
eat?”—“Will you stop picketing?”—“Will you go without paying your fine
and promise never to picket again?”

How baffled he must have been! The answer was definite and final. Their
resistance was superb.

“One of the few warning incidents during the gray days of our
imprisonment was the unexpected sympathy and understanding of one of
the government doctors,” wrote Miss Betty Gram of Portland, Oregon.

“’This is the most magnificent sacrifice I have ever seen made for a
principle [he said I never believed that American women would care so
much about freedom. I have seen women in Russia undergo extreme
suffering for their ideals, but unless I had seen this with my own eyes
I never would have believed it. My sister hunger struck in Russia,
where she was imprisoned for refusing to reveal the whereabouts of two
of her friends indicted for a government offense. She was fed after
three days. You girls are on your ninth day of hunger strike and your
condition is critical. It is a great pity that such women should be
subjected to this treatment. I hope that you will carry your point and
force the hand of the government soon’.”

The mother of Matilda Young, the youngest picket, anxiously appealed to
Mr. Tumulty, Secretary to President Wilson, and a family friend, to be
allowed to see the President and ask for a special order to visit her
daughter. Failing to secure this, she went daily to Mr. Tumulty’s
office asking if he himself would not intercede for her. Mr. Tumulty
assured her that her daughter was in safe hands, that she need give
herself no alarm, the stories of the inhuman treatment at Occoquan were
false, and that she must not believe them. Finally Mrs. Young pleaded
to be allowed to send additional warm clothing to her daughter, whom
she knew to be too lightly clad for the vigorous temperature of
November. Mr. Tumulty assured her that the women were properly clothed,
and refused to permit the clothing to be sent. The subsequent stories
of the women showed what agonies they had endured, because they were
inadequately clad, from the dampness of the cells into which they were
thrown.

Mrs. John Winters Brannan was among the women who endured the “night of
terror.” Mrs. Brannan is the daughter of Charles A. Dana, founder of
the New York Sun and that great American patriot of liberty who was a
trusted associate -and counselor of Abraham Lincoln. Mrs. Brannan,
life-long suffragist, is an aristocrat of intellect and feeling, who
has always allied herself with libertarian movements. This was her
second term of imprisonment. She wrote a comprehensive affidavit of her
experience. After narrating the events which led up to the attack, she
continues:

Superintendent Whittaker . . . then shouted out in a loud tone of
voice, “Seize these women, take them off, that one, that one; take her
off.” The guards rushed forward and an almost indescribable scene of
violent confusion ensued. I . . . saw one of the guards seize her [Lucy
Burns] by the arms, twist or force them back of her, and one or two
other guards seize her by the shoulders, shaking her violently . . . .

I then . . took up my heavy sealskin coat, which was lying by, and put
it on, in order to prepare myself if attacked . . . . I was trembling
at the time and was stunned with terror at the situation as it had
developed, and said to the superintendent, “I will give my name under
protest,” and started to walk towards the desk whereon lay the books.
The superintendent shouted to me, “Oh, no, you won’t; don’t talk about
protest; I won’t have any of that nonsense.”

I . . . saw the guards seizing the different women of the party with
the utmost violence, the furniture being overturned and the room a
scene of the utmost disturbance. I saw Miss Lincoln lying on the floor,
with every appearance of having just been thrown down by the two guards
who were standing over her in a menacing attitude. Seeing the general
disturbance, I gave up all idea of giving my name at the desk, and
instinctively joined my companions, to go with them and share whatever
was in store for them. The whole group of women were thrown, dragged or
herded out of the office on to the porch, down the steps to the ground,
and forced to cross the road . . . to the Administration Building.

During all of this time, . . . Superintendent Whittaker was . . .
directing the whole attack. . . .

. . .All of us were thrown into different cells in the men’s prison, I
being put in one with four other women, the cell containing a narrow
bed and one chair, which was immediately removed . . . .

During the time that we were being forced into the cells the guards
kept up an uproar, shouting, banging the iron doors, clanging bars,
making a terrifying noise.

I and one of my companions were lying down on the narrow bed, on which
were a blanket and one pillow. The door of the cell was opened and a
mattress and a blanket being thrown in, the door was violently banged
to . . . . My other . . . companions arranged the mattress on the floor
and lay down, covering themselves with the blanket.

. . . I looked across the corridor and saw Miss Lincoln, . and asked
her whether she was all right, being anxious to know whether she had
been hurt by the treatment in the office building. . . Instantly
Superintendent Whittaker rushed forward, shouting at me, “Stop that;
not another word from your mouth, or I will handcuff you, gag you and
put you in a straitjacket. . .

I wish to state again that the cells into which we were put were
situated in the men’s prison. There was no privacy for the women, and
if any of us wished to undress we would be subject to the view or
observation of the guards who remained in the corridor and who could at
any moment look at us . . . . Furthermore, the water closets were in
full view of the corridor where Superintendent Whittaker and the guards
were moving about. The flushing of these closets could only be done
from the corridor, and we were forced to ask the guards to do this for
us,-the men who had shortly before attacked us . . . .

None of the matrons or women attendants appeared at any time that
night. No water was brought to us for washing, no food was offered to
us . . . .

I was exhausted by what I had seen and been through, and spent the
night in absolute terror of further attack and of what might still be
in store for us. I thought of the young girls who were with us and
feared for their safety. The guards acted brutal in the extreme,
incited to their brutal conduct towards us, . . , by the
superintendent. I thought of the offense with which we had been
charged,—merely that of obstructing traffic,—and felt that the
treatment that we had received was out of all proportion to the offense
with which we were charged, and that the superintendent, the matron and
guards would not have dared to act towards us as they had acted unless
they relied upon the support of higher authorities. It seemed to me
that everything had been done from the time we reached the workhouse to
terrorize us, and my fear lest the extreme of outrage would be worked
upon the young girls of our party became intense.

It is impossible for me to describe the terror of that night. . .

The affidavit then continues with the story of how Mrs. Brannan was
compelled the following morning to put on prison clothes, was given a
cup of skimmed milk and a slice of toast, and then taken to the sewing
room, where she was put to work sewing on the underdrawers of the male
prisoners.

I was half fainting all of that day and . . . requested permission to
lie down, feeling so ill . . . . I could not sleep, having a sense of
constant danger . . . . I was almost paralyzed and in wretched physical
condition.

On Friday afternoon Mrs. Herndon [matron]. . . led us through some
woods nearby, for about three-quarters of a mile, seven of us being in
the party. We were so exhausted and weary that we were obliged to stop
constantly to rest. On our way back from the walk we heard the baying
of hounds very near us in the woods. The matron said, “You must hurry,
the bloodhounds are loose.” One of the party, Miss Findeisen, asked
whether they would attack us, to which the matron replied, “That is
just what they would do,” and hurried us along. The baying grew louder
and nearer at times and then more distant, as the dogs rushed back and
forth, and this went on until we reached the sewing room. The effect of
this upon our nerves can better be imagined than described . . . .

Every conceivable lie was tried in an effort to force the women to
abandon their various form of resistance. They were told that no
efforts were being made from the outside to reach them, and that their
attorney had been called off the case. Each one was told that she was
the only one hunger striking. Each one was told that all the others had
put on prison clothes and were working. Although they were separated
from one another they suspected the lies and remained strong in their
resistance. After Mr. O’Brien’s one visit and the subsequent reports in
the press he was thereafter refused admission to the workhouse.

The judge had sentenced these women to the jail, but the District
Commissioners had ordered them committed to the workhouse. It was
evident that the Administration was anxious to keep this group away
from Alice Paul and her companions, as they counted on handling the
rebellion more easily in two groups than one.

Meanwhile the condition of the prisoners in the workhouse grew steadily
worse. It was imperative that we force the Administration to take them
out of the custody of Superintendent Whittaker immediately. We decided
to take the only course open—to obtain a writ of habeas corpus. A
hurried journey by counsel to United States District Judge Waddill of
Norfolk, Virginia, brought the writ. It compelled the government to
bring the prisoners into court and show cause why they should not be
returned to the district jail. This conservative, Southern judge said
of the petition for the writ, “It is shocking and blood- curdling.”

There followed a week more melodramatic than the most stirring moving
picture film. Although the writ had been applied for in the greatest
secrecy, a detective suddenly appeared to accompany Mr. O’Brien from
Washington to Norfolk, during his stay in Norfolk, and back to
Washington. Telephone wires at our headquarters were tapped.

It was evident that the Administration was cognizant of every move in
this procedure before it was executed. No sooner was our plan decided
upon than friends of the Administration besought us to abandon the
habeas corpus proceedings. One member of the Administration sent an
emissary to our headquarters with the following appeal:

“If you will only drop these proceedings, I can absolutely guarantee
you that the prisoners will be removed from the workhouse to the jail
in a week:”

“In a week? They may be dead by that time,” we answered. “We cannot
wait.”

“But I tell you, you must not proceed.”

“Why this mysterious week?” we asked. “Why not tomorrow? Why not
instantly?”

“I can only tell you that I have a positive guarantee of the District
Commissioners that the women will be removed,” he said in conclusion.
We refused to grant his request.

There were three reasons why the authorities wished for a week’s time.
They were afraid to move the women in their weakened condition and
before the end of the week they hoped to increase their facilities for
forcible feeding at the workhouse. They also wished to conceal the
treatment of the women, the exposure of which would be inevitable in
any court proceedings. And lastly, the Administration was anxious to
avoid opening up the whole question of the legality of the very
existence of the workhouse in Virginia.

Persons convicted in the District for acts committed in violation of
District law were transported to Virginia—alien territory—to serve
their terms. It was a moot point whether prisoners were so treated with
sufficient warrant in law. Eminent jurists held that the District had
no right to convict a person under its laws and commit that person to
confinement in another state. They contended that sentence imposed upon
a person for unlawful acts in the District should be executed in the
District.

Hundreds of persons who had been convicted in the District of Columbia
and who had served their sentences in Virginia had been without money
or influence enough to contest this doubtful procedure in the courts.
The Administration was alarmed.

We quickened our pace. A member of the Administration rushed his
attorney as courier to the women in the workhouse to implore them not
to consent to the habeas corpus proceedings. He was easily admitted and
tried to extort from one prisoner at a time a promise to reject the
plan. The women suspected his solicitude and refused to make any
promise whatsoever without first being allowed to see their own
attorney.

We began at once to serve the writ. Ordinarily this would be an easy
thing to do. But for us it developed into a very difficult task. A
deputy marshal must serve the writ. Counsel sought a deputy. For miles
around Washington, not one was to be found at his home or lodgings.
None could be reached by telephone.

Meanwhile Mr. Whittaker, had sped from the premises of the workhouse to
the District, where he kept himself discreetly hidden for several days.
When a deputy was found, six attempts were made to serve the writ. All
failed. Finally by a ruse, Mr. Whittaker was caught at his home late at
night. He was aroused to a state of violent temper and made futile
threats of reprisal when he learned that he must produce the suffrage
prisoners at the Court in Alexandria, Virginia, on the day of November
twenty- third.




Chapter 12
Alice Paul in Prison


Great passions when they run through a whole population, inevitably
find a great spokesman. A people cannot remain dumb which is moved by
profound impulses of conviction; and when spokesmen and leaders are
found, effective concert of action seems to follow as naturally. Men
spring together for common action under a common impulse which has
taken hold upon their very natures, and governments presently find that
they have those to reckon with who know not only what they want, but
also the most effective means of making governments uncomfortable until
they get it. Governments find themselves, in short, in the presence of
Agitation, of systematic movements of opinion, which do not merely
flare up in spasmodic flames and then die down again, but burn with an
accumulating ardor which can be checked and extinguished only by
removing the grievances, and abolishing the unacceptable institutions
which are its fuel. Casual discontent can be allayed, but agitation
fixed upon conviction cannot be. To fight it is merely to augment its
force. It burns irrepressibly in every public assembly; quiet it there,
and it gathers head at street corners; drive it thence, and it smolders
in private dwellings, in social gatherings, in every covert of talk,
only to break forth more violently than ever because denied vent and
air. It must be reckoned with . . . .

Governments have been very resourceful in parrying agitation, in
diverting it, in seeming to yield to it, and then cheating it of its
objects, in tiring it out or evading it . . . . But the end, whether it
comes soon or late, is quite certain to be always the same.

—“Constitutional Government in the United States.”
Woodrow Wilson, Ph.D., LL.D.,
President of Princeton University.


The special session of the 65th Congress, known as the “War Congress,”
adjourned in October, 1917, having passed every measure recommended as
a war measure by the President.

In addition, it found time to protect by law migratory birds, to
appropriate forty-seven million dollars for deepening rivers and
harbors, and to establish more federal judgeships. No honest person
would say that lack of time and pressure of war legislation had
prevented its consideration of the suffrage measure. If one-hundredth
part of the time consumed by its members in spreading the wings of the
overworked eagle, and in uttering to bored ears “home-made” patriotic
verse, had been spent in considering the liberty of women, this
important legislation could have been dealt with. Week after week
Congress met only for three days, and then often merely for prayer and
a few hours of purposeless talking.

We had asked for liberty, and had got a suffrage committee appointed in
the House to consider the pros and cons of suffrage, and a favorable
report in the Senate from the Committee on Woman Suffrage, nothing
more.

On the very day and hour of the adjournment of the special session of
the War Congress, Alice Paul led eleven women to the White House gates
to protest against the Administration’s allowing its lawmakers to go
home without action on the suffrage amendment.

Two days later Alice Paul and her colleagues were put on trial.

Many times during previous trials I had heard the District Attorney for
the government shake his finger at Miss Paul and say, “We’ll get you
yet . . . . Just wait; and when we do, we’ll give you a year!”

It was reported from very authentic sources that Attorney General
Gregory had, earlier in the agitation, seriously considered arresting
Miss Paul for the Administration, on the charge of conspiracy to break
the law. We were told this plan was abandoned because, as one of the
Attorney General’s staff put it, “No jury would convict her.”

However, here she was in their hands, in the courtroom.

Proceedings opened with the customary formality. The eleven prisoners
sat silently at the bar, reading their morning papers, or a book, or
enjoying a moment of luxurious idleness, oblivious of the comical
movements of a perturbed court. Nothing in the world so baffles the
pompous dignity of a court as non-resistant defendants. The judge
cleared his throat and the attendants made meaningless gestures.

“Will the prisoners stand up and be sworn?”

They will not.

“Will they question witnesses?”

They will not.

“Will they speak in their own behalf ?”

The slender, quiet-voiced Quaker girl arose from her seat. The crowded
courtroom pressed forward breathlessly. She said calmly and with
unconcern: “We do not wish to make any plea before this court. We do
not consider ourselves subject to this court, since as an
unenfranchised class we have nothing to do with the making of the laws
which have put us in this position.”

What a disconcerting attitude to take! Miss Paul sat down as quietly
and unexpectedly as she had arisen. The judge moved uneasily in his
chair. The gentle way in which it was said was disarming. Would the
judge hold them in contempt? He had not time to think. His part of the
comedy he had expected to run smoothly, and here was this defiant
little woman calmly stating that we were not subject to the court, and
that we would therefore have nothing to do with the proceedings. The
murmurs had grown to a babel of conversation. A sharp rap of the gavel
restored order and permitted Judge Mullowny to say: “Unfortunately, I
am here to support the laws that are made by Congress, and, of course,
I am bound by those laws; and you are bound by them as long as you live
in this country, notwithstanding the fact that you do not recognize the
law.”

Everybody strained his ears for the sentence. The Administration had
threatened to “get” the leader. Would they dare?

Another pause!

“I shall suspend sentence for the time being,” came solemnly from the
judge.

Was it that they did not dare confine Miss Paul? Were they beginning
actually to perceive the real strength of the movement and the protest
that would be aroused if she were imprisoned? Again we thought perhaps
this marked the end of the jailing of women.

But though the pickets were released on suspended sentences, there was
no indication of any purpose on the part of the Administration of
acting on the amendment. Two groups, some of those on suspended
sentence, others first offenders, again marched to the White House
gates. The following motto:

THE TIME HAS COME TO CONQUER OR SUBMIT; FOR US THERE CAN BE BUT ONE
CHOICE-WE HAVE MADE IT.


a quotation from the President’s second Liberty Loan appeal, was
carried by Miss Paul.

Dr. Caroline E. Spencer of Colorado carried:

RESISTANCE TO TYRANNY IS OBEDIENCE TO GOD.


All were brought to trial again.

The trial of Miss Paul’s group ran as follows:

MR. HART (Prosecuting Attorney for the Government): Sergeant Lee, were
you on Pennsylvania Avenue near the White House Saturday afternoon?

SERGEANT LEE: I was.

MR. HART: At what time?

LEE: About 4:35 in the afternoon.

HART: Tell the court what you saw.

LEE: A little after half-past four, when the department clerks were all
going home out Pennsylvania Avenue, I saw four suffragettes coming down
Madison Place, cross the Avenue and continue on Pennsylvania Avenue to
the gate of the White House, where they divided two on the right and
two on the left side of the gate.

HART: What did you do?

LEE: I made my way through the crowd that was surrounding them and told
the ladies they were violating the law by standing at the gates, and
wouldn’t they please move on?

HART: Did they move on?

LEE: They did not; and they didn’t answer either.

HART: What did you do then?

LEE: I placed them under arrest.

HART: What did you do then?

LEE: I asked the crowd to move on.

Mr. Hart then arose and summing up said: “Your Honor, these women have
said that they will picket again. I ask you to impose the maximum
sentence.”

Such confused legal logic was indeed drole!

“You ladies seem to feel that we discriminate in making arrests and in
sentencing you,” said the judge heavily. “The result is that you force
me to take the most drastic means in my power to compel you to obey the
law.”

More legal confusion!

“Six months,” said the judge to the first offenders, “and then you will
serve one month more,” to the others.

Miss Paul’s parting remark to the reporters who intercepted her on her
way from the courtroom to begin her seven months’ sentence was:

“We are being imprisoned, not because we obstructed traffic, but
because we pointed out to the President the fact that he was
obstructing the cause of democracy at home, while Americans were
fighting for it abroad.”

I am going to let Alice Paul tell her own story, as she related it to
me one day after her release:

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the jail. There we found the
suffragists who had preceded us, locked in cells.

The first thing I remember was the distress of the prisoners about the
lack of fresh air. Evening was approaching, every window was closed
tight. The air in which we would be obliged to sleep was foul. There
were about eighty negro and white prisoners crowded together, tier upon
tier, frequently two in a cell. I went to a window and tried to open
it. Instantly a group of men, prison guards, appeared; picked me up
bodily, threw me into a cell and locked the door. Rose Winslow and the
others were treated in the same way.

Determined to preserve out health and that of the other prisoners, we
began a concerted fight for fresh air. The windows were about twenty
feet distant from the cells, and two sets of iron bars intervened
between us and the windows, but we instituted an attack upon them as
best we could. Our tin drinking cups, the electric light bulbs, every
available article of the meagre supply in each cell, including my
treasured copy of Browning’s poems which I had secretly taken in with
me, was thrown through the windows. By this simultaneous attack from
every cell, we succeeded in breaking one window before our supply of
tiny weapons was exhausted. The fresh October air came in like an
exhilarating gale. The broken window remained untouched throughout the
entire stay of this group and all later groups of suffragists. Thus was
won what the “regulars” in jail called the first breath of air in their
time.

The next day we organized ourselves into a little group for the purpose
of rebellion. We determined to make it impossible to keep us in jail.
We determined, moreover, that as long as we were there we would keep up
an unremitting fight for the rights of political prisoners.

One by one little points were conceded to quiet resistance. There was
the practice of sweeping the corridors in such a way that the dust
filled the cells. The prisoners would be choking to the gasping point,
as they sat, helpless, locked in the cells, while a great cloud of dust
enveloped them from tiers above and below. As soon as our tin drinking
cups, which were sacrificed in our attack upon the windows, were
restored to us, we instituted a campaign against the dust. Tin cup
after tin cup was filled and its contents thrown out into the corridor
from every cell, so that the water began to trickle down from tier to
tier. The District Commissioners, the Board of Charities, and other
officials were summoned by the prison authorities. Hurried
consultations were held. Nameless officials passed by in review and
looked upon the dampened floor. Thereafter the corridors were dampened
and the sweeping into the cells ceased. And so another reform was won.

There is absolutely no privacy allowed a prisoner in a cell. You are
suddenly peered at by curious strangers, who look in at you all hours
of the day and night, by officials, by attendants, by interested
philanthropic visitors, and by prison reformers, until one’s sense of
privacy is so outraged that one rises in rebellion. We set out to
secure privacy, but we did not succeed, for, to allow privacy in
prison, is against all institutional thought and habit. Our only
available weapon was our blanket, which was no sooner put in front of
our bars than it was forcibly taken down by Warden Zinkhan.

Our meals had consisted of a little almost raw salt pork, some sort of
liquid—I am not sure whether it was coffee or soup—bread and
occasionally molasses. How we cherished the bread and molasses! We
saved it from meal to meal so as to try to distribute the nourishment
over a longer period, as almost every one was unable to eat the raw
pork. Lucy Branham, who was more valiant than the rest of us, called
out from her cell, one day, “Shut your eyes tight, close your mouth
over the pork and swallow it without chewing it. Then you can do it.”
This heroic practice kept Miss Branham in fairly good health, but to
the rest it seemed impossible, even with our eyes closed, to crunch our
teeth into the raw pork.

However gaily you start out in prison to keep up a rebellious protest,
it is nevertheless a terribly difficult thing to do in the face of the
constant cold and hunger of undernourishment. Bread and water, and
occasional molasses, is not a diet destined to sustain rebellion long.
And soon weakness overtook us.

At the end of two weeks of solitary confinement, without any exercise,
without going outside of our cells, some of the prisoners were
released, having finished their terms, but five of us were left serving
seven months’ sentences, and two, one month sentences. With our number
thus diminished to seven, the authorities felt able to cope with us.
The doors were unlocked and we were permitted to take exercise. Rose
Winslow fainted as soon as she got into the yard, and was carried back
to her cell. I was too weak to move from my bed. Rose and I were taken
on stretchers that night to the hospital.

For one brief night we occupied beds in the same ward in the hospital.
Here we decided upon the hunger strike, as the ultimate form of protest
left us—the strongest weapon left with which to continue within the
prison our battle against the Administration.

Miss Paul was held absolutely incommunicado in the prison hospital. No
attorney, no member of her family, no friend could see her. With Miss
Burns in prison also it became imperative that I consult Miss Paul as
to a matter of policy. I was peremptorily refused admission by Warden
Zinkhan, so I decided to attempt to communicate with her from below her
window. This was before we had established what in prison parlance is
known as the “grape- vine route.” The grape-vine route consists of
smuggling messages oral or written via a friendly guard or prisoner who
has access to the outside world.

Just before twilight, I hurried in a taxi to the far-away spot,
temporarily abandoned the cab and walked past the dismal cemetery which
skirts the prison grounds. I had fortified myself with a diagram of the
grounds, and knew which entrance to attempt, in order to get to the
hospital wing where Miss Paul lay. We had also ascertained her floor
and room. I must first pick the right building, proceed to the proper
corner, and finally select the proper window.

The sympathetic chauffeur loaned me a very seedy looking overcoat which
I wrapped about me. Having deposited my hat inside the cab, I turned up
the collar, drew in my chin and began surreptitiously to circle the
devious paths leading to a side entrance of the grounds. My heart was
palpitating, for the authorities had threatened arrest if any
suffragists were found on the prison grounds, and aside from my
personal feelings, I could not at that moment abandon headquarters.

Making a desperate effort to act like an experienced and trusted
attendant of the prison, I roamed about and tried not to appear
roaming. I successfully passed two guards, and reached the desired
spot, which was by good luck temporarily deserted. I succeeded in
calling up loudly enough to be heard by Miss Paul, but softly enough
not to be heard by the guards.

I shall never forget the shock of her appearance at that window in the
gathering dusk. Everything in the world seemed black-gray except her
ghost-like face, so startling, so inaccessible. It drove everything
else from my mind for an instant. But as usual she was in complete
control of herself. She began to hurl questions at me faster than I
could answer. “How were the convention plans progressing?” . . . “Had
the speakers been secured for the mass meeting?” . . . “How many women
had signed up to go out on the next picket line?” And so on.

“Conditions at Occoquan are frightful,” said I. “We are planning to . .
.”

“Get out of there, and move quickly,” shouted the guard, who came
abruptly around the corner of the building. I tried to finish my
message. “We are planning to habeas corpus the women out of Occoquan
and have them transferred up here.”

“Get out of there, I tell you. Damn you!” By this time he was upon me.
He grabbed me by the arm and began shaking me. “You will be arrested if
you do not get off these grounds.” He continued to shake me while I
shouted back, “Do you approve of this plan?”

I was being forced along so rapidly that I was out of range of her
faint voice and could not hear the answer. I plead with the guard to be
allowed to go back quietly and speak a few more words with Miss Paul,
but he was inflexible. Once out of the grounds I went unnoticed to the
cemetery and sat on a tombstone to wait a little while before making
another attempt, hoping the guard would not expect me to come back. The
lights were beginning to twinkle in the distance and it was now almost
total darkness. I consulted any watch and realized that in forty
minutes Miss Paul and her comrades would again be going through the
torture of forcible feeding. I waited five minutes—ten minutes—fifteen
minutes. Then I went back to the grounds again. I started through
another entrance, but had proceeded only a few paces when I was
forcibly evicted. Again I returned to the cold tombstone. I believe
that I never in my life felt more utterly miserable and impotent. There
were times, as I have said, when we felt inordinately strong. This was
one of the times when I felt that we were frail reeds in the hands of
cruel and powerful oppressors. My thoughts were at first with Alice
Paul, at that moment being forcibly fed by men jailers and men doctors.
I remembered then the man warden who had refused the highly reasonable
request to visit her, and my thoughts kept right on up the scale till I
got to the man-President—the pinnacle of power against us. I was indeed
desolate. I walked back to the hidden taxi, hurried to headquarters,
and plunged into my work, trying all night to convince myself that the
sting of my wretchedness was being mitigated by activity toward a
release from this state of affairs.

Later we established daily communication with Miss Paul through one of
the charwomen who scrubbed the hospital floors. She carried paper and
pencil carefully concealed upon her. On entering Miss Paul’s room she
would, with very comical stealth, first elaborately push Miss Paul’s
bed against the door, then crawl practically under it, and pass from
this point of concealment the coveted paper and pencil. Then she would
linger over the floor to the last second, imploring Miss Paul to hasten
her writing. Faithfully every evening this silent, dusky messenger made
her long journey after her day’s work, and patiently waited while I
wrote an answering note to be delivered to Miss Paul the following
morning. Thus it was that while in the hospital Miss Paul directed our
campaign, in spite of the Administration’s most painstaking plans to
the contrary.

Miss Paul’s story continues here from the point where I interrupted it.

From the moment we undertook the hunger strike, a policy of unremitting
intimidation began. One authority after another, high and low, in and
out of prison, came to attempt to force me to break the hunger strike.

“You will be taken to a very unpleasant place if you don’t stop this,”
was a favorite threat of the prison officials, as they would hint
vaguely of the psychopathic ward, and St. Elizabeth’s, the Government
insane asylum. They alternately bullied and hinted. Another threat was
“You will be forcibly fed immediately if you don’t stop”—this from Dr.
Gannon. There was nothing to do in the midst of these continuous
threats, with always the “very unpleasant place” hanging over me, and
so I lay perfectly silent on my bed.

After about three days of the hunger strike a man entered my room in
the hospital and announced himself as Dr. White, the head of St.
Elizabeth’s. He said that he had been asked by District Commissioner
Gardner to make an investigation. I later learned that he was Dr.
William A. White, the eminent alienist.

Coming close to my bedside and addressing the attendant, who stood at a
few respectful paces from him, Dr. White said: “Does this case talk?”

“Why wouldn’t I talk?” I answered quickly.

“Oh, these cases frequently will not talk, you know,” he continued in
explanation.

“Indeed I’ll talk,” I said gaily, not having the faintest idea that
this was an investigation of my sanity.

“Talking is our business,” I continued, “we talk to any one on earth
who is willing to listen to our suffrage speeches.”

“Please talk,” said Dr. White. “Tell me about suffrage; why you have
opposed the President; the whole history of your campaign, why you
picket, what you hope to accomplish by it. Just talk freely.”

I drew myself together, sat upright in bed, propped myself up for a
discourse of some length, and began to talk. The stenographer whom Dr.
White brought with him took down in shorthand everything that was said.

I may say it was one of the best speeches I ever made. I recited the
long history and struggle of the suffrage movement from its early
beginning and narrated the political theory’ of our activities up to
the present moment, outlining the status of the suffrage amendment in
Congress at that time. In short, I told him everything. He listened
attentively, interrupting only occasionally to say, “But, has not
President Wilson treated you women very badly?” Whereupon, I, still
unaware that I was being examined, launched forth into an explanation
of Mr. Wilson’s political situation and the difficulties he had
confronting him. I continued to explain why we felt our relief lay with
him; I cited his extraordinary power, his influence over his party, his
undisputed leadership in the country, always painstakingly explaining
that we opposed President Wilson merely because he happened to be
President, not because he was President Wilson. Again came an
interruption from Dr. White, “But isn’t President Wilson directly
responsible for the abuses anal indignities which have been heaped upon
you? You are suffering now as a result of his brutality, are you not?”
Again I explained that it was impossible for us to know whether
President Wilson was personally acquainted in any detail with the facts
of our present condition, even though we knew that he had concurred in
the early decision to arrest our women.

Presently Dr. White took out a small light and held it up to my eyes.
Suddenly it dawned upon me that he was examining me personally; that
his interest in the suffrage agitation and the jail conditions did not
exist, and that he was merely interested in my reactions to the
agitation and to jail. Even then I was reluctant to believe that I was
the subject of mental investigation and I continued to talk.

But he continued in what I realized with a sudden shock, was an attempt
to discover in me symptoms of the persecution mania. How simple he had
apparently thought it would be, to prove that I had an obsession on the
subject of President Wilson!

The day following he came again, this time bringing with him the
District Commissioner, Mr. Gardner, to whom he asked me to repeat
everything that had been said the day before. For the second time we
went through the history of the suffrage movement, and again his
inquiry suggested his persecution mania clue? When the narrative
touched upon the President and his responsibility for the obstruction
of the suffrage amendment, Dr. White would turn to his associate with
the remark: “Note the reaction.”

Then came another alienist , Dr. Hickling, attached to the psychopathic
ward in the District Jail, with more threats and suggestions, if the
hunger strike continued. Finally they departed, and I was left to
wonder what would happen next. Doubtless my sense of humor helped me,
but I confess A was not without fear of this mysterious place which
they continued to threaten.

It appeared clear that it was their intention either to discredit me,
as the leader of the agitation, by casting doubt upon my sanity, or
else to intimidate us into retreating from the hunger strike.

After the examination by the alienists, Commissioner Gardner, with whom
I had previously discussed our demand for treatment as political
prisoners, made another visit. “All these things you say about the
prison conditions may be true,” said Mr. Gardner, “I am a new
Commissioner, and I do not know. You give an account of a very serious
situation in the jail. The jail authorities give exactly the opposite.
Now I promise you we will start an investigation at once to see who is
right, you or they. If it is found you are right, we shall correct the
conditions at once. If you will give up the hunger strike, we will
start the investigation at once.”

“Will you consent to treat the suffragists as political prisoners, in
accordance with the demands laid before you?” I replied.

Commissioner Gardner refused, and I told him that the hunger strike
would not be abandoned. But they had by no means exhausted every
possible facility for breaking down our resistance. I overheard the
Commissioner say to Dr. Gannon on leaving, “Go ahead, take her and feed
her.”

I was thereupon put upon a stretcher and carried into the psychopathic
ward.


There were two windows in the room. Dr. Gannon immediately ordered one
window nailed from top to bottom. He then ordered the door leading into
the hallway taken down and an iron-barred cell door put in its place.
He departed with the command to a nurse to “observe her.”

Following this direction, all through the day once every hour, the
nurse came to “observe” me. All through the night, once every hour she
came in, turned on an electric light sharp in my face, and “observed”
me. This ordeal was the most terrible torture, as it prevented my
sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. And if I did finally
get to sleep it was only to be shocked immediately into wide-awakeness
with the pitiless light.

Dr. Hickling, the jail alienist, also came often to “observe” me.
Commissioner Gardner and others—doubtless officials—came to peer
through my barred door.

One day a young interne came to take a blood test. I protested mildly,
saying that it was unnecessary and that I objected. “Oh, well,” said
the young doctor with a sneer and a supercilious shrug, “you know
you’re not mentally competent to decide such things.” And the test was
taken over my protest.

It is scarcely possible to convey to you one’s reaction to such an
atmosphere. Here I was surrounded by people on their way to the insane
asylum. Some were waiting for their commitment papers. Others had just
gotten them. And all the while everything possible was done to attempt
to make me feel that I too was a “mental patient.”

At this time forcible feeding began in the District Jail. Miss Paul and
Miss Winslow, the first two suffragists to undertake the hunger strike,
went through the operation of forcible feeding this day and three times
a day on each succeeding day until their release from prison three
weeks later. The hunger strike spread immediately to other suffrage
prisoners in the jail and to the workhouse as recorded in the preceding
chapter.

One morning [Miss Paul’s story continues the friendly face of a kindly
old man standing on top of a ladder suddenly appeared at my window. He
began to nail heavy boards across the window from the outside. He
smiled and spoke a few kind words and told me to be of good cheer. He
confided to me in a sweet and gentle way that he was in prison for
drinking, that he had been in many times, but that he believed he had
never seen anything so inhuman as boarding up this window and depriving
a prisoner of light and air. There was only time for a few hurried
moments of conversation, as I lay upon my bed watching the boards go up
until his figure was completely hidden and I heard him descending the
ladder.

After this window had been boarded up no light came into the room
except through the top half of the other window, and almost no air. The
authorities seemed determined. to deprive me of air and light.

Meanwhile in those gray, long days, the mental patients in the
psychopathic ward came and peered through my barred door. At night, in
the early morning, all through the day there were cries and shrieks and
moans from the patients. It was terrifying. One particularly melancholy
moan used to keep up hour after hour, with the regularity of a heart
beat. I said to myself, “Now I have to endure this. I have got to live
through this somehow. I’ll pretend these moans are the noise of an
elevated train, beginning faintly in the distance and getting louder as
it comes nearer.” Such childish devices were helpful to me.

The nurses could not have been more beautiful in their spirit and
offered every kindness. But imagine being greeted in the morning by a
kindly nurse, a new one who had just come on duty, with, “I know you
are not insane.” The nurses explained the procedure of sending a person
to the insane asylum. Two alienists examine a patient in the
psychopathic ward, sign an order committing the patient to St.
Elizabeth’s Asylum, and there. the patient is sent at the end of one
week. No trial, no counsel, no protest from the outside world! This was
the customary procedure.

I began to think as the week wore on that this was probably their plan
for me. I could not see my family or friends; counsel was denied me; I
saw no other prisoners and heard nothing of them; I could see no
papers; I was entirely in the hands of alienists, prison officials and
hospital staff.

I believe I have never in my life before feared anything or any human
being. But I confess I was afraid of Dr. Gannon, the jail physician. I
dreaded the hour of his visit.

“I will show you who rules this place. You think you do. But I will
show you that you are wrong.” Some such friendly greeting as this was
frequent from Dr. Gannon on his daily round. “Anything you desire, you
shall not have. I will show you who is on top in this institution,” was
his attitude.

After nearly a week had passed, Dudley Field Malone finally succeeded
in forcing an entrance by an appeal to court officials and made a
vigorous protest against confining me in the psychopathic ward. He
demanded also that the boards covering the window be taken down. This
was promptly done and again the friendly face of the old man became
visible, as the first board disappeared.

“I thought when I put this up America would not stand for this long,”
he said, and began to assure me that nothing dreadful would happen. I
cherish the memory of that sweet old man.

The day after Mr. Malone’s threat of court proceedings, the seventh day
of my stay in the psychopathic ward, the attendants suddenly appeared
with a stretcher. I did not know whither I was being taken, to the
insane asylum, as threatened, or back to the hospital—one never knows
in prison where one is being taken, no reason is ever given for
anything. It turned out to be the hospital.


After another week spent by Miss Paul on hunger strike in the hospital,
the Administration was forced to capitulate. The doors of the jail were
suddenly opened, and all suffrage prisoners were released.

With extraordinary swiftness the Administration’s almost incredible
policy of intimidation had collapsed. Miss Paul had been given the
maximum sentence of seven months, and at the end of five weeks the
Administration was forced to acknowledge defeat. They were in a most
unenviable position. If she and her comrades had offended in such
degree as to warrant so cruel a sentence, (with such base stupidity on
their part in administering it) she most certainly deserved to be
detained for the full sentence. The truth is, every idea of theirs had
been subordinated to the one desire of stopping the picketing
agitation. To this end they had exhausted all their weapons of force.

From my conversation and correspondence with Dr. White, it is clear
that as an alienist he did not make the slightest allegation to warrant
removing Miss Paul to the psychopathic ward. On the contrary he wrote,
“I felt myself in the presence of an unusually gifted personality” and
. . . “she was wonderfully alert and keen . . . possessed of an
absolute conviction of her cause . . . with industry and courage
sufficient to avail herself of them [all diplomatic possibilities. He
praised the “most admirable, coherent, logical and forceful way” in
which she discussed with him the purpose of our campaign.

And yet the Administration put her in the psychopathic ward and
threatened her with the insane asylum.

An interesting incident occurred during the latter part of Miss Paul’s
imprisonment. Having been cut off entirely from outside communication,
she was greatly surprised one night at a late hour to find a newspaper
man admitted for an interview with her. Mr. David Lawrence, then
generally accepted as the Administration journalist, and one who wrote
for the various newspapers throughout the country defending the
policies of the Wilson Administration, was announced. It was equally
well known that this correspondent’s habit was to ascertain the
position of the leaders on important questions, keeping intimately in
touch with opinion in White House circles at the same time.

Mr. Lawrence came, as he said, of his own volition, and not as an
emissary from the White House. But in view of his close relation to
affairs, his interview is significant as possibly reflecting an
Administration attitude at that ,point in the campaign.

The conversation with Miss Paul revolved first about our fight for the
right of political prisoners, Miss Paul outlining the wisdom and
justice of this demand.

“The Administration could very easily hire a comfortable house in
Washington and detain you all there,” said Mr. Lawrence, “but don’t you
see that your demand to be treated as’ political prisoners is
infinitely more difficult to grant than to give you the federal
suffrage amendment? If we give you these privileges we shall have to
extend them to conscientious objectors and to all prisoners now
confined for political opinions. This the Administration cannot do.”

The political prisoners protest, then, had actually encouraged the
Administration to choose the lesser of two evils some action on behalf
of the amendment.

“Suppose,” continued Mr. Lawrence, “the Administration should pass the
amendment through one house of Congress next session and go to the
country in the 1918 elections on that record and if sustained in it,
pass it through the other house a year from now. Would you then agree
to abandon picketing?”

“Nothing short of the passage of the amendment through Congress will
end our agitation,” Miss Paul quietly answered for the thousandth time.

Since Mr. Lawrence disavows any connection with the 4dministration in
this interview, I can only remark that events followed exactly in the
order he outlined; that is, the Administration attempted to satisfy the
women by putting the amendment through the House and not through the
Senate.

It was during Miss Paul’s imprisonment that the forty-one women went in
protest to the picket line and were sent to the workhouse, as narrated
in the previous chapter. The terrorism they endured at Occoquan ran
simultaneously with the attempted intimidation of Miss Paul and her
group in the jail.




Chapter 13
Administration—Lawlessness Exposed


In August, 1917, when it was clear that the policy of imprisoning
suffragists would be continued indefinitely, and under longer
sentences, the next three groups of pickets to be arrested asked for a
decision from the highest court, the District Court of Appeals. Unlike
other police courts in the country, there is no absolute right of
appeal-from the Police Court of the District of Columbia. Justice Robb,
of the District Court of Appeals, after granting two appeals, refused
to grant any more, upon the ground that he had discretionary power to
grant or withhold an appeal. When further right of appeal was denied
us, and when the Administration persisted in arresting us, we were
compelled either to stop picketing or go to prison.

The first appealed case was heard by the Court of Appeals on January 8,
1918, and the decision[1] handed down in favor of the defendants on
March 4, 1918. This decision was concurred in by all three judges, one
of whom was appointed by President Wilson, a second by President
Roosevelt and the third by President Taft.

[1] See Hunter vs. District of Columbia, 47 App. Cas. (D. C.) p. 406.


In effect the decision declared that every one of the 218 suffragists
arrested up to that time was illegally arrested, illegally convicted,
and illegally imprisoned. The whole policy of the Administration in
arresting women was by this decision held up to the world as lawless.
The women could, if they had chosen, have filed suits for damages for
false arrest and imprisonment at once.

The appeal cases of the other pickets were ordered dismissed and
stricken from the records. Dudley Field Malone was chief counsel in the
appeal.

Another example of ethical, if not legal lawlessness, was shown by the
Administration in the following incident. Throughout the summer and
early autumn we had continued to press for an investigation of
conditions at Occoquan, promised almost four months earlier.

October 2nd was the date finally set for an investigation to be held in
the District Building before the District Board of Charities. Armed
with 18 affidavits and a score of witnesses as to the actual conditions
at Occoquan, Attorney Samuel C. Brent and Judge J. K. N. Norton, both
of Alexandria, Virginia, acting as counsel with Mr. Malone, appeared
before the Board on the opening day and asked to be allowed to present
their evidence. They were told by the Board conducting the
investigation that this was merely “an inquiry into the workhouse
conditions and therefore would be held in secret without reporters or
outsiders present.” The attorneys demanded a public hearing, and
insisted that the question was of such momentous importance that the
public was entitled to hear both sides of it. They were told they might
submit in writing any evidence they wished to bring before the Board.
They refused to produce testimony for a “star chamber proceeding,” and
refused to allow their witnesses to be heard unless they could be heard
in public.

Unable to get a public hearing, counsel left the following letter with
the President of the Board:

Hon. John Joy Edson,
President Board of Charities,
Washington, D. C.

Dear Sir:—We are counsel for a large group of citizens, men and women,
who have in the past been associated with Occoquan work house as
officials or inmates and who are ready to testify to unspeakable
conditions of mismanagement, graft, sanitary depravity, indignity and
brutality at the institution.

We are glad you are to conduct this long-needed inquiry and shall
cooperate in every way to get at the truth of conditions in Occoquan
through your investigation, provided you make the hearings public,
subpoena all available witnesses, including men and women now prisoners
at Occoquan, first granting them immunity, and provided you give
counsel an opportunity to examine and cross examine all witnesses so
called.

We are confident your honorable board will see the justice and wisdom
of a public inquiry. If charges so publicly made are untrue the
management of Occoquan work house is entitled to public vindication,
and if these charges are true, the people of Washington and Virginia
should publicly know what kind of a prison they have in their midst,
and the people of the country should publicly know the frightful
conditions in this institution which is supported by Congress and the
government of the United States.

We are ready with our witnesses and affidavits to aid your honorable
board in every way, provided you meet the conditions above named. But
if you insist on a hearing behind closed doors we cannot submit our
witnesses to a star chamber proceeding and shall readily find another
forum in which to tell the American public the vivid story of the
Occoquan work house.

Respectfully yours,
(Signed) DUDLEY FIELD MALONE,
J. K. N. NORTON,
SAMUEL G. BRENT.


Subsequently the District Board of Charities reported findings on their
secret investigation. After a lengthy preamble, in which they attempted
to put the entire blame upon the suffrage prisoners, they advised:

That the investigation directed by the Commissioners of the District of
Columbia be postponed until the conditions of unrest, excitement, and
disquiet at Occoquan have been overcome:

That the order relieving W. H. Whittaker as superintendent, temporarily
and without prejudice, be revoked, and Mr. Whittaker be restored to his
position as superintendent:[1]

[1] Pending the investigation Mr. Whittaker was suspended, and his
first assistant, Alonzo Tweedale, served in the capacity of
superintendent.


That the members of the National Woman’s Party now at Occoquan be
informed that unless they obey the rules of the institution and
discontinue their acts of insubordination and riot, they will be
removed from Occoquan to the city jail and placed in solitary
confinement.

In announcing the report to the press the District Commissioners stated
that they approved the recommendations of the Board of Charities “after
most careful consideration,” and that “as a matter of fact, the
District workhouse at Occoquan is an institution of which the
commissioners are proud, and is a source of pride to every citizen of
the nation’s Capital.”

That the Administration was in possession of the true facts concerning
Mr. Whittaker and his conduct in office there can be no doubt. But they
supported him until the end of their campaign of suppression.

Another example of the Administration’s lawlessness appeared in the
habeas corpus proceedings by which we rescued the prisoners at the
workhouse from Mr. Whittakers custody. The trial occurred on November
23rd.

No one present can ever forget the tragi-comic scene enacted in the
little Virginia court room that cold, dark November morning. There was
Judge Waddill[2]—who had adjourned his sittings in Norfolk to hasten
the relief of the prisoners—a mild mannered, sweet-voiced Southern
gentleman. There was Superintendent Whittaker in his best Sunday
clothes, which mitigated very little the cruel and nervous demeanor
which no one who has come under his control will ever forget. His thugs
were there, also dressed in their best clothes, which only exaggerated
their coarse features and their shifty eyes. Mrs. Herndon, the
thin-lipped matron, was there, looking nervous and trying to seem
concerned about the prisoners in her charge. Warden Zinkhan was there
seeming worried at the prospect of the prisoners being taken from the
care of Superintendent Whittaker and committed to him—he evidently
unwilling to accept the responsibility.

[2] Appointed to the bench by President Roosevelt.


Dudley Field Malone and Mr. O’Brien of counsel, belligerent in every
nerve, were ready to try the case. The two dapper government attorneys,
with immobile faces, twisted nervously in their chairs. There was the
bevy of newspaper reporters struggling for places in the little
courtroom, plainly sympathetic, for whatever they may have had to write
for the papers they knew that this was a battle for justice against
uneven odds. There were as many eager spectators as could be crowded
into so small an area. Upon the whole an air of friendliness prevailed
in this little court at Alexandria which we had never felt in the
Washington courts. And the people there experienced a shock when the
slender file of women, haggard, red- eyed, sick, came to the bar. Some
were able to walk to their seats; others were so weak that they had to
be stretched out 6n the wooden benches with coats propped under their
heads for pillows. Still others bore the marks of the attack of the
“night of terror.” Many of the prisoners lay back in their chairs
hardly conscious of the proceedings which were to. free them. Mrs.
Brannan collapsed utterly and had to be carried to a couch in an
ante-room.

It was discovered just as the trial was to open that Miss Lucy Burns
and Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, who it will be remembered had been removed to
the jail before the writ had been issued, were absent from among the
prisoners.

“They are too ill to be brought into court,” Mr. Whittaker replied to
the attorneys for the defense.

“We demand that they be brought into court at our risk,” answered
counsel for the defense.

The government’s attorneys sustained Mr. Whittaker in not producing
them. It was clear that the government did not her wish to have Miss
Burns with the marks still fresh on wrists from her manacling and
handcuffing, and Mrs. Lewes with a fever from the shock of the first
night, brought before the judge who was to decide the case.

“If it was necessary to handcuff Miss Burns to the bars of her cell, we
consider her well enough to appear,” declared Mr. O’Brien. . “We
consider we ought to know what has happened to all of these petitioners
since these events. While I was at Occoquan Sunday endeavoring to see
my clients, Mr. Whittaker was trying to induce the ladies, who, he
says, are too sick to be brought here, to dismiss this proceeding.
Failing in that, he refused to let me see them, though I had an order
from Judge Mullowny, and they were taken back to the District of
Columbia. From that time to this, though I had your Honor’s order which
you signed in Norfolk, the superintendent of the Washington jail also
refused to allow me to see my clients, saying that your order had no
effect in the District of Columbia.”

“If there are any petitioners that you claim have not been brought here
because they have been carried beyond the jurisdiction of the courts, I
think we should know it,” ruled the court. “Counsel for these ladies
want them here; and they say that they ought to be here and are well
enough to b here; that the respondent here has spirited them away and
put them beyond the jurisdiction of the court. On that showing, unless
there is some reason why they ought not to come, they should be here.”

Miss Burns and Mrs. Lewes were accordingly ordered brought to court.

This preliminary skirmish over, the opening discussion revolved about a
point of law as to whether the Virginia District Court had authority to
act in this case.

After hearing both sides on this point, Judge Waddill said: “These are
not state prisoners; they are prisoners of the District of Columbia.
They are held by an order of the court claiming to have jurisdiction in
the District of Columbia. But they are imprisoned in the Eastern
District of Virginia, in Occoquan workhouse which, very much to our
regret, is down here, and is an institution that we alone have
jurisdiction over. No court would fail to act when such a state of
affairs as is set forth in this petition is brought to its attention.

“Here was a case concerning twenty-five or thirty ladies. The statement
as to their treatment was bloodcurdling; it was shocking to man’s ideas
of humanity if it is true. They are here in court, and yet your answer
denies all these facts which they submit, It is a question whether you
can do that anal yet deny these petitioners the right of testimony.”

Proceeding with this argument, the defense contended that the act
itself of the District Commissioners in sending prisoners to the
Occoquan workhouse was illegal; that no formal transfer from one
institution to another had ever been made, the sentencing papers
distinctly stating that all prisoners were committed to “the Washington
Asylum and Jail.”

“We deny that the records of the Commissioners of the District of
Columbia can show that there was any order made by the Board for the
removal of these women. The liberty of a citizen cannot be so
disregarded and trifled with that any police official or jailer may at
his own volition, commit and hold him in custody and compel him to
work. The liberty of the people depends upon a broader foundation.”

Repeated questions brought out from Mr. Zinkhan, Warden of the Jail,
the fact that the directions given by the Commissioners to transfer
prisoners from the jail to Occoquan rested entirely upon a verbal order
given “five or six years ago.”

“Do you really mean,” interrupted the court, “that the only authority
you have on the part of the Commissioners of the District of Columbia
to transfer parties down to Occoquan is a verbal order made five or six
years ago?”

Questions by the defense brought out the fact also that Mr. Zinkhan
could remember in detail the first oral orders he had received for such
a transfer, dating back to 1911, although he could not remember
important details as to how he had received the orders concerning the
suffragists committed to his care! He only knew that “orders were oral
and explicit.”

Q. [By defense in court You say the three commissioners were present?

A. Sure.

Q. Who else was present?

A. I am not sure just now who else was present. I remember somebody
else was there, but I don’t remember just who . . . .

Q. Were the three commissioners present at the time Mr. [Commissioner]
Brownlow gave you this order?

A. Yes.

Q. You say it was a verbal order of the Commissioners?

A. Yes.

Q. Was the clerk of the Board present?

A. I think not.

Q. And you cannot remember who was present aside from the three
Commissioners?

A. No, I cannot remember just now.

Q. Try to recollect who was present at that meeting when this order was
given, aside from the Commissioners. There was somebody else present?

A. It is my impression that there was some one other person present,
but I am not sure just now who it was.

Q. It was some official, some one well known, was it not . . . .?

A. I am not sure. . . .

[This conference was one in which Mr. McAdoo was reported to have
participated.]

The gentle judge was distressed when in answer to a question by the
government’s attorney as to what Mr. Zinkhan did when the prisoners
were given into his charge, the warden replied:

A. I heard early in the afternoon of the sentence, and I did not get
away from the Commissioners’ meeting until nearly 4 o’clock and I
jumped in my machine and went down to the jail, and I think at that
time six of them had been delivered there and were in the rotunda of
the jail, and a few minutes after that a van load came. The remaining
number of ten or twelve had not arrived, but inasmuch as the train had
to leave at 5 o’clock and there would not be time enough to receive
them in the jail and get them there in time for the train, I took the
van that was there right over to the east end of the Union Station, and
I think I took some of the others in my machine and another machine we
had there carried some of the others over, and we telephoned the other
van at Police Court to go direct to the east end of the Union Station
and to deliver them to me. I had of course the commitments of those
that were brought up to the jail—about 20 of them—and received from the
officer of the court the other commitments of the last van load, and
there I turned all of them except one that I kept back . . over to the
receiving and discharging officer representing the District Workhouse,
and they were taken down there that evening.

There followed some questioning of the uneasy warden as to how he used
this power to decide which prisoners should remain in jail and which
should be sent to Occoquan. Warden Zinkhan stuttered something about
sending “all the able bodied prisoners to Occoquan—women able to
perform useful work”—and that “humanitarian motives” usually guided him
in his selection. It was a difficult task for the warden for he had to
conceal just why the suffrage prisoners were sent to Occoquan, and in
so doing had to invent “motives” of his own.

Q. [By defense.] Mr. Zinkhan, were you or were you not actuated by
humanitarian motives when you sent this group of women to the Occoquan
Workhouse?

A. Yes.

Q. Were you actuated by humanitarian motives when you sent Mrs. Nolan,
a woman of 73 years, to the workhouse? Did you think that she could
perform some service at Occoquan that it was necessary to get her out
of district jail and go down there?

Warden Zinkhan gazed at the ceiling, shifted in his chair and hesitated
to answer. The question was repeated, and finally the warden admitted
uncomfortably that he believed he was inspired by “humanitarian
motives.”

“Mrs. Nolan, will you please stand up?” called out Mr. Malone.

All eyes turned toward the front row, where Mrs. Nolan slowly got to
her feet. The tiny figure of a woman with pale face and snowy hair,
standing out dramatically against her black bonnet and plain black
dress, was answer enough.

Warden Zinkhan’s answers after that came even more haltingly. He seemed
inordinately fearful of trapping himself by his own words.

“The testimony has brought out the fact,” the judge remarked at this
point, “that two of these ladies were old and one of them is a delicate
lady. Her appearance would indicate that she is not strong. Under this
rule, if one of these ladies had been eighty years old and unable to
walk she would have gone along with the herd and nobody would have
dared to say ‘ought this to be done?’ Would the Commissioners in a case
of that sort, if they gave consideration to it, think of sending such
an individual there? Was not that what the law expected them to do, and
not take them off in droves and inspect them at the Union Station and
shoot them on down? Yet that is about what was done in this case.”

In summing up this phase of the case in an eloquent appeal, Mr. Malone
said:

“Can the Commissioners, with caprice and no order and no record except
that orally given five or six years ago, and one which this warden now
says was given ‘oral and explicit,’ transfer defendants placed in a
particular institution, and under a particular kind of punishment
arbitrarily to another institution, and add to their punishment?

“Even if we admit that the Commissioners had power, did Congress ever
contemplate that any District Commissioners would dare to exercise
power affecting the life and health of defendants in this fashion? Did
Congress ever contemplate that, by mere whim, these things could be
done? I am sure it did not, and even on the admission of the government
that they had the power, they have exercised this power in such a
scandalous fashion that it is worthy of the notice of the court and
worthy of the remedy which we seek—the removal of the suffrage
prisoners from the Occoquan workhouse.”

After a brief recess, Judge Waddill rendered this decision: “The
locking up of thirty human beings is an unusual sort of thing and
judicial officers ought to be required to stop long enough to see
whether some prisoners ought to go and some not; whether some might not
be killed by going; or whether they should go dead or alive. This class
o f prisoners and this number of prisoners should haze been given
special consideration. There cannot be any controversy about this
question . . . . You ought to lawfully lock them up instead of
unlawfully locking them up—if they are to be locked up . . . . The
petitioners are, therefore, one and all, in the Workhouse without
semblance of authority or legal process of any kind . . . . and they
will accordingly be remanded to the custody of the Superintendent of
the Washington Asylum and Jail.” . . .

It having been decided that the prisoners were illegally detained in
the workhouse, it was not necessary to go into a discussion of the
cruelties committed upon the prisoners while there.

The government’s attorneys immediately announced that they would appeal
from the decision of Judge Waddill. Pending such an appeal the women
were at liberty to be paroled in the custody of counsel. But since they
had come from the far corners of the continent and since some of them
had served out almost half of their sentence, and did not wish in case
of an adverse decision on the appeal, to have to return later to
undergo the rest of their sentence, they preferred to finish their
sentences.

These were the workhouse prisoners thus remanded to the jail who
continued the hunger strike undertaken at the workhouse, and made a
redoubtable reinforcement to Alice Paul and Rose Winslow and their
comrades on strike in the jail when the former arrived.




Chapter 14
The Administration Outwitted


With thirty determined women on hunger strike, of whom eight were in a
state of almost total collapse, the Administration capitulated. It
could not afford to feed thirty women forcibly and risk the social and
political consequences; nor could it let thirty women starve themselves
to death, and likewise take the consequences. For by this time one
thing was clear, and that was that the discipline and endurance of the
women could not be broken. And so all the prisoners were
unconditionally released on November 27th and November 28th.

On leaving prison Miss Paul said: “The commutation of sentences
acknowledges them to be unjust and arbitrary. The attempt to suppress
legitimate propaganda has failed.

“We hope that no more demonstrations will be necessary, that the
amendment will move steadily on to passage and ratification without
further suffering or sacrifice. But what we do depends entirely upon
what the Administration does. We have one aim: the immediate passage of
the federal amendment”

Running parallel to the protest made inside the prison, a public
protest of nation-wide proportions had been made against continuing to
imprison women. Deputations of in- fluential women had waited upon all
party leaders, cabinet officials, heads of the war boards, in fact
every friend of the Administration, pointing out that we had broken no
law, that we were unjustly held, and that .the Administration would
suffer politically for their handling of the suffrage agitation.

A committee of women, after some lively fencing with the Secretary of
War, finally drove Mr. Baker to admit that women had been sent to
prison for a political principle; that they were not petty disturbers
but part of a great fundamental struggle. Secretary Baker said, “This
[the suffrage struggle] is a revolution. There have been revolutions
all through his- tory. Some have been justified and some have not. The
burden of responsibility to decide whether your revolution is justified
or not is on you. The whole philosophy of your movement seems to be to
obey no laws until you have a voice in those laws.”

At least one member of the Cabinet thus showed that he had caught
something of the purpose and depth of our movement. He never publicly
protested, however, against the Administration’s policy of suppression.

Mr. McAdoo, then Secretary of the Treasury, gave no such evidence of
enlightenment as Mr. Baker. A committee of women endeavored to see him.
He was reported “out. But we expect him here soon.”

We waited an hour. The nervous private secretary returned to say that
he had been mistaken. “The Secretary will not be in until after
luncheon.”

“We shall wait,” said Mrs. William Kent, chairman of the deputation.
“We have nothing more important to do to-day than to see Secretary
McAdoo. We are willing to wait the whole day, if necessary, only it is
imperative that we see him.”

The private secretary’s spirits sank. He looked as if he would give
anything to undo his inadvertence in telling us that the Secretary was
expected after luncheon! Poor man! We settled down comfortably to wait,
a formidable looking committee of twenty women.

There was the customary gentle embarrassment of attendants whose chief
is in a predicament from which they seem powerless to extricate him,
but all were extremely courteous. The attendant at the door brought us
the morning papers to read. Gradually groups of men began to arrive and
cards were sent in the direction of the spot where we inferred the
Secretary of the Treasury was safely hidden, hoping and praying for our
early retirement.

Whispered conversations were held. Men disappeared in and out of
strange doors. Still we waited.

Finally as the fourth hour of our vigil was dragging on, a lieutenant
appeared to announce that the Secretary was very sorry but that he
would not be able to see us “at all.” We consulted, and finally sent in
a written appeal, asking for “five minutes of his precious time on a
matter of grave importance.” More waiting! Finally a letter was brought
to us directed to Mrs. William Kent, with the ink of the Secretary of
the Treasury’s signature still wet. With no concealment of contempt, he
declared that under no circumstances could he speak with women who had
conducted such an outrageous campaign in such an “illegal” way. We
smiled as we learned from his pronouncement that “picketing” was
“illegal,” for we were not supposed to have been arrested for
picketing. The tone of his letter, its extreme bitterness, tended to
confirm what we had always been told, that Mr. McAdoo assisted in
directing the policy of arrests and imprisonment.

I have tried to secure this letter for reproduction but unfortunately
Mrs. Kent did not save it. We all remember its bitter passion, however,
and the point it made about our “illegal picketing.”

Congress convened on December 4th. President Wilson delivered a
message, restating our aims in the war. He also recommended a
declaration of a state of war against Austria; the control of certain
water power sites; export trade-combination; railway legislation; and
the speeding up of all necessary appropriation legislation. But he did
not mention the suffrage amendment. Having been forced to release the
prisoners, he again rested.

Immediately we called a conference in Washington of the Executive
Committee and the National Advisory Council of the Woman’s Party. Past
activities were briefly reviewed and the political situation discussed.
It is interesting to note that the Treasurer’s report made at this
conference showed that receipts in some months during the picketing had
been double what they were the same month the previous year when there
was no picketing. In one month of picketing the receipts went as high
as six times the normal amount. For example in July of 1917, when the
arrests had just begun, receipts for the month totalled $21,628.65 as
against $8,690.62 for July of 1916. In November, 1917, when the
militant situation was at its highest point, there was received at
National Headquarters $81,117.87 as against $15,008.18 received in
November, 1916. Still there were those who said we had no friends!

A rumor that the President would act persisted. But we could not rely
on rumor. We decided to accelerate him and his Administration by filing
damage suits amounting to $800,000 against the District Commissioners,
against Warden Zinkhan, against Superintendent Whittaker and Captain
Reams, a workhouse guard.[1] They were brought in no spirit of revenge,
but merely that the Administration should not be allowed to forget its
record of brutality, unless it chose to amend its conduct by passing
the amendment. The suits were brought by the women woo suffered the
greatest abuse during the “night of terror” at the workhouse.

[1] We were obliged to bring the suits against individuals, as we could
not in the law bring them against the government.


If any one is still in doubt as to the close relation between the Court
procedure in our case and the President’s actions, this letter to one
of our attorneys in January, 1918, must convince him.

My dear Mr. O’Brien:—

I wish you would advise me as soon as you conveniently can, what will
be done with the suffragist cases now pending against Whittaker and
Reams in the United States District Court at Alexandria.

I have heard rumors, the truth of which you will understand better than
I, that these cases will be dropped if the President comes out in favor
of woman suffrage. This, I understand, he will do and certainly hope
so, as I am personally in favor of it and have been for many years. But
in case of his delay in taking any action, will you agree to continue
these cases for the present?

Very truly yours,
(Signed) F. H. STEVENS,
Assistant Corporation Counsel, D. C.


In order to further fortify themselves, the District Commissioners,
when the storm had subsided, quietly removed Warden Zinkhan from the
jail and Superintendent Whittaker resigned his post at the workhouse,
presumably under pressure from the Commissioners.

The Woman’s Party conference came to a dramatic close during that first
week in December with an enormous mass meeting in the Belasco Theatre
in Washington. On that quiet Sunday afternoon, as the President came
through his gates for his afternoon drive, a passageway had to be
opened for his motor car through the crowd of four thousand people who
were blocking Madison Place in an effort to get inside the Belasco
Theatre. Inside the building was packed to the rafters. The President
saw squads of police reserves, who had been for the past six months
arresting pickets for him, battling with a crowd that was literally
storming the theatre in their eagerness to do honor to those who had
been arrested. Inside there was a fever heat of enthusiasm, bursting
cheers, and thundering applause which shook the building. America has
never before nor since seen such a suffrage meeting.

Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, chairman, opened the meeting by saying:

“We are here this afternoon to do honor to a hundred gallant women, who
have endured the hardship and humiliation of imprisonment because they
love liberty.

“The suffrage pickets stood at the White House gates for ten months and
dramatized the women’s agitation for political liberty. Self-respecting
and patriotic American women will no longer tolerate a government which
denies women the right to govern themselves. A flame of rebellion is
abroad among women, and the stupidity and brutality of the government
in this revolt have only served to increase its heat.

“As President Wilson wrote, ‘Governments have been very successful in
parrying agitation, diverting it, in seeming to yield to it and then
cheating it, tiring it out or evading it. But the end, whether it comes
soon or late, is quite certain to be the same.’ While the government
has endeavored to parry, tire, divert, and cheat us of our goal, the
country has risen in protest against this evasive policy of suppression
until to-day the indomitable pickets with their historic legends stand
triumphant before the nation.”

Mrs. William Kent, who had led the last picket line of forty-one women,
was chosen to decorate the prisoners.

“In honoring these women, who were willing to go to jail for liberty,”
said Mrs. Kent, “we are showing our love of country and devotion to
democracy.” The long line of prisoners filed past her and amidst
constant cheers and applause, received a tiny silver replica of a cell
door, the same that appears in miniature on the title page of this
book.

As proof of this admiration for what the women had done, the great
audience in a very few moments pledged $86,826 to continue the
campaign. Many pledges were made in honor of Alice Paul, Inez
Milholland, Mrs. Belmont, Dudley Field Malone, and all the prisoners.
Imperative resolutions calling upon President Wilson and his
Administration to act, were unanimously passed amid an uproar.




Chapter 15
Political Results


Immediately following the release of the prisoners and the magnificent
demonstration of public support of them, culminating at the mass
meeting recorded in the preceding chapter, political events happened
thick and fast. Committees in Congress acted on the amendment.
President Wilson surrendered and a date for the vote was set.

The Judiciary Committee of the House voted 18 to 2 to report the
amendment to that body. The measure, it will be remembered, was
reported to the Senate in the closing days of the previous session, and
was therefore already before the Senate awaiting action.[1]

[1] See Chapter 8.


To be sure, the Judiciary Committee voted to report the amendment
without recommendation. But soon after, the members of the - Suffrage
Committee, provision for which had also been made during the war
session, were appointed. All but four members of this committee were in
favor of national suffrage, and immediately after its formation it met
to organize and decided to take the suffrage measure out of the hands
of the Judiciary Committee and to press for a vote.

A test of strength came on December 18th.

On a trivial motion to refer all suffrage bills to the new suffrage
committee, the vote stood 204 to 107. This vote, although unimportant
in itself, clearly promised victory for the amendment in the House. In
a few days, Representative Mondell of Wyoming, Republican, declared
that the Republican side of the House would give more than a two-thirds
majority of its members to the amendment.

“It is up to our friends on the Democratic side to see that the
amendment is not defeated through hostility or indifference on their
side,” said Mr. Mondell.

Our daily poll of the House showed constant gains. Pledges from both
Democratic and Republican members came thick and fast; cabinet members
for the first time publicly declared their belief in the amendment. A
final poll, however, showed that we lacked a few votes of the necessary
two-thirds majority to pass the measure in the House.

No stone was left unturned in a final effort to get the President to
secure additional Democratic votes to insure the passage of the
amendment. Finally, on the eve of the vote President Wilson made his
first declaration of support of the amendment through a committee of
Democratic Congressmen. During the vote the following day
Representative Cantrill of Kentucky, Democrat, reported the event to
the House. He said in part:

It was my privilege yesterday afternoon to be one of a committee of
twelve to ask the President for advice and counsel on this important
measure (prolonged laughter and jeers). Mr. Speaker, in answer to the
sentiment expressed by part of the House, I desire to say that at no
time and upon no occasion am I ever ashamed to confer with Woodrow
Wilson upon any important question (laughter, applause, and, jeers) and
that part of the House that has jeered that statement before it
adjourns to-day will follow absolutely the advice which he gave this
committee yesterday afternoon. (Laughter and applause.) After
conference with the President yesterday afternoon he wrote with his own
hands the words which I now read to you, and each member of the
committee was authorized by the President to give full publicity to the
following:

“The committee found that the President had not felt at liberty to
volunteer his advice to Members of Congress in this important matter,
but when we sought his advice (laughter) he very frankly and earnestly
advised us to vote for the amendment as an act of right and justice to
the women of the country and o f the world.”

. . . To my Democratic brethren who have made these halls ring with
their eloquence in their pleas to stand by the President, I will say
that now is your chance to stand by the President and vote for this
amendment, “as’ an act of right and justice to the women of the country
and of the world” . . .

Do you wish to do that which is right and just toward the women of your
own country? If so, follow the President’s advice and vote for this
amendment. It will not do to follow the President in this great crisis
in the world’s history on those matters only which are popular in your
own districts. The true test is to stand by him, even though your own
vote is unpopular at home. The acid test for a Member of Congress is
for him to stand for right and justice even if misunderstood at home at
first. In the end, right and justice will prevail everywhere.

. . . No one thing connected with the war is of more importance at this
time than meeting the reasonable demand of millions of patriotic and
Christian women of the Nation that the amendment for woman suffrage be
submitted to the States . . . .

The amendment passed the House January 10, 1918, by a vote of 274 to
136—a two-thirds majority with one vote to spare—exactly forty years to
a day from the time the suffrage amendment was first introduced into
Congress, and exactly one year to a day from the time the first picket
banner appeared at the gates o f the White House.

Eighty-three per cent of the Republicans voting on the measure, voted
in favor of it, while only fifty per cent of the Democrats voting,
voted for it. Even after the Republicans had pledged their utmost
strength, more than two-thirds of their membership, votes were still
lacking to make up the Democratic deficiency, and the President’s
declaration that the measure ought to pass the House, produced them
from his own party. Those who contend that picketing had “set back the
clock,”—that it did “no good,”—that President Wilson would “not be
moved by it”—have, we believe, the burden of proof on their side of the
argument. It is our firm belief that the solid year of picketing, with
all its political ramifications, did compel the President to abandon
his opposition and declare himself for the measure. I do not mean to
say that many things do not cooperate in a movement toward a great
event. I do mean to say that picketing was the most vital force amongst
the elements which moved President Wilson. That picketing had compelled
Congress to see the question in terms of political capital is also
true. From the first word uttered in the House debate, until the final
roll-call, political expediency was the chief motif.

Mr. Lenroot of Wisconsin, Republican, rose to say:

“May I suggest that there is a distinction between the Democratic
members of the Committee on Rules and the Republican members, in this,
that all of the Republican members are for this proposition?” This was
met with instant applause from the Republican side.

Representative Cantrill prefaced his speech embodying the President’s
statement, which caused roars and jeers from the opposition, with the
announcement that he was not willing to risk another election, with the
voting women of the West, and the amendment still unpassed.

Mr. Lenroot further pointed out that: “From a Republican
standpoint—from a partisan standpoint, it would be an advantage to
Republicans to go before the people in the next election and say that
this resolution was defeated by southern Democrats.”

An anti-suffragist tried above the din and noise to remind Mr. Lenroot
that three years before Mr. Lenroot had voted “No,” but a Republican
colleague came suddenly to the rescue with “What about Mr. Wilson?”
which was followed by, “He kept us out of war,” and the jeers on the
Republican side became more pronounced.

This interesting political tilt took place when Representatives
Dennison and Williams of Illinois, and Representative Kearns of Ohio,
Republicans, fenced with Representative Raker of California, Democrat,
as he attempted, with an evident note of self-consciousness, to make
the President’s reversal seem less sudden.

MR. DENNISON : It was known by the committee that went to see the
President that the Republicans were going to take this matter up and
pass it in caucus, was it not?’

MR. RAKER: I want to say to my Republican friends upon this question
that I have been in conference with the President for over three years
upon this question . . . .

MR. KEARNS: How did the women of California find out and learn where
the President stood on this thing just before election last fall?
Nobody else seemed to know it.

MR. RAKER: They knew it.

MR. KEARNS: How did they find it out?

MR. RAKER: I will take a minute or two—

MR. KEARNS: I wish the gentleman would.

MR. RAKER: The President went home and registered. The President went
home and voted for woman suffrage.

MR. KEARNS: He said he believed in it for the several states . . . .

MR. RAKER: One moment——

MR. KEARNS : That is the only information they had upon the subject, is
it?

MR. WILLIAMS: . . . Will the gentleman yield?

MR. RAKER: I cannot yield.

MR. WILLIAMS: Just for a question.

MR. RAKER: I cannot yield . . . .

That the President’s political speed left some overcome was clear from
a remark of Mr. Clark of Florida when he said:

“I was amused at my friend from Oklahoma, Mr. Ferris, who wants us to
stand with the President. God knows I want to stand with him. I am a
Democrat, and I want to follow the leader of my party, and I am a
pretty good lightning change artist myself sometimes (laughter); but
God knows I cannot keep up with his performance. (Laughter.) Why, the
President wrote a book away back yonder” . . . and he quoted generously
from President Wilson’s many statements in defense of state rights as
recorded in his early writings.

Mr. Hersey of Maine, Republican, drew applause when he made a retort to
the Democratic slogan, “Stand by the President.” He said:

“Mr. Speaker, I am still ‘standing with the President,’ or, in other
words, the President this morning is standing with me.”

The resentment at having been forced by the pickets to the point of
passing the amendment was in evidence throughout the debate.

Representative Gordon of Ohio, Democrat, said with bitter ness : “We
are threatened by these militant suffragettes with a direct and lawless
invasion by the Congress of the United States of the rights of those
States which have refused to confer upon their women the privilege of
voting. This attitude on the part of some of the suffrage Members of
this House is on an exact equality with the acts of these women
militants who have spent the last summer and fall, while they were not
in the district jail or workhouse, in coaxing, teasing, and nagging the
Presi dent of the United States for the purpose of inducing him, by
coercion, to club Congress into adopting this joint resolution.”

Shouts of “Well, they got him!” and “They got it!” from all sides,
followed by prolonged laughter and jeers, interrupted the flow of his
oratory.

Mr. Ferris of Oklahoma, Democrat, hoped to minimize the effectiveness
of the picket.

“Mr. Speaker,” he said, “I do not approve or believe in picketing the
White House, the National Capitol, or any other station to bring about
votes for women. I do not approve of wild militancy, hunger strikes,
and efforts of that sort. I do not approve of the course of those women
that . . ., become agitators, lay off their womanly qualities in their
efforts to secure votes. I do not approve of anything unwomanly
anywhere, any time, and my course to-day in supporting this suffrage
amendment is not guided by such conduct on the part of a very few women
here or elsewhere.” (Applause.)

Representative Langley of Kentucky, Republican, was able to see
picketing in a fairer light:

“Much has been said pro and con about ‘picketing’,-that rather dramatic
chapter in the history of this great movement. It is not my purpose to
speak either in criticism or condemnation of that; but if it be true—I
do not say that it is, because I do not know—but if it be true, as has
been alleged, that certain promises were made, as a result of which a
great campaign was won, and those promises were not kept, I wonder
whether in that silent, peaceful protest that was against this broken
faith, there can be found sufficient warrant for the indignities which
the so-called ‘pickets’ suffered; and when in passing up and down the
Avenue I frequently witnessed cultured, intellectual women arrested and
dragged off to prison because of their method, of giving publicity to
what they believed to be the truth, I will confess that the question
sometimes arose in my mind whether when the impartial history of this
great struggle has been written their names may not be placed upon the
roll of martyrs to the cause to which they were consecrating their
lives in the manner that they deemed most effective.”

Mr. Mays of Utah was one Democrat who placed the responsibility for
militancy where it rightly belonged when he said:

“Some say to-day that they are ashamed of the action of the militants
in picketing the Capitol: . . . But we should be more ashamed of the
unreasonable stubbornness on the part of the men who refused them the
justice they have so long and patiently asked.”

And so the debate ran on. Occasionally one caught a glimmer of real
comprehension, amongst these men about to vote upon our political
liberty; but more often the discussion stayed on a very inferior level.

And there were gems imperishable!

Even friends of the measure had difficulty not to romanticize about
“Woman—God’s noblest creature” . . . “man’s better counterpart” . . .
“humanity’s perennial hope” . . . “the world’s object most to be
admired and loved” . . . and so forth.

Representative Elliott of Indiana, Republican, favored the resolution
because—“A little more than four hundred years ago Columbus discovered
America. Before that page of American history was written he was
compelled to seek the advice and assistance of a woman. From that day
until the present day the noble women of America have done their part
in times of peace and of war . . .”

If Queen Isabella was an argument in favor for Mr. Elliott of Indiana,
Lady Macbeth played the opposite part for Mr. Parker of New Jersey,
Republican . . . . “I will not debate the question as to whether in a
time of war women are the best judges of policy. That great student of
human nature, William Shakespeare, in the play of Macbeth, makes Lady
Macbeth eager for deeds of blood until they are committed and war is
begun and then just as eager that it may be stopped.” . . .

Said Mr. Gray of New Jersey, Republican: “A nation will endure just so
long as its men are virile. History, physiology, and psychology all
show that giving woman equal political rights with man makes ultimately
for the deterioration of manhood. It is, therefore, not only because I
want our country to win this war but because I want our nation to
possess the male virility necessary to guarantee its future existence
that I am opposed to the pending amendment.”

The hope was expressed that President Wilson’s conversion would be like
that of St. Paul, “and that he will become a master- worker in the
vineyards of the Lord for this proposition.” (Applause.)

Mr. Gallivan, Democrat, although a representative of Massachusetts,
“the cradle of American liberty,” called upon a great Persian
philosopher to sustain him in his support. “ ‘Dogs bark, but the
caravan moves on.’ . . . Democracy cannot live half free and half
female.”

Mr. Dill of Washington, Democrat, colored his support with the
following tribute: “ . . . It was woman who first learned to prepare
skins of animals for protection from the elements, and tamed and
domesticated the dog and horse and cow. She was a servant and a slave .
. . . To-day she is the peer of man.”

Mr. Little of Kansas, Republican, tried to bring his colleagues back to
a moderate course by interpolating:

“It seems to me, gentlemen, that it is time for us to learn that woman
is neither a slave nor an angel, but a human being, entitled to be
treated with ordinary common sense in the adjustment of human affairs .
. . .”

But this calm statement could not allay the terror of Representative
Clark of Florida, Democrat, who cried: “In the hearings before the
committee it will be found that one of the leaders among the
suffragettes declared that they wanted the ballot for ‘protection’, and
when asked against whom she desired ‘protection’ she promptly and
frankly replied, ‘men.’ My God, has it come to pass in America that the
women of the land need to be protected from the men?” The galleries
quietly nodded their heads, and Mr. Clark continued to predict either
the complete breakdown of family life . . . . or “they [man and wife]
must think alike, act alike, have the same ideals of life, and look
forward with like vision to the happy consummation ‘beyond the vale.’ .
. .

“God knows that . . . when you get factional politics limited to
husband and wife, oh, what a spectacle will be presented, my countrymen
. . . . Love will vanish, while hate ascends the throne . . . .

“To-day woman stands the uncrowned queen in the hearts of all
right-thinking American men; to her as rightful sovereign we render the
homage of protection, respect, love, and may the guiding hand of an
all-wise Providence stretch forth in this hour of peril to save her
from a change of relation which must bring in its train, discontent,
sorrow, and pain,” he concluded desperately, with the trend obviously
toward “crowning” the queens.

There was the disturbing consideration that women know too much to be
trusted. “I happen to have a mother,” said Mr. Gray of New Jersey,
Republican, “as most of us have, and incidentally I think we all have
fathers, although a father does not count for much any more. My mother
has forgotten more political history than he ever knew, and she knows
more about the American government and American political economy than
he has ever shown symptoms of knowing, and for the good of mankind as
well as the country she is opposed to women getting into politics.”

The perennial lament for the passing of the good old days was raised by
Representative Welty of Ohio, Democrat, who said:

“The old ship of state has left her moorings and seems to be sailing on
an unknown and uncharted sea. The government founded in the blood of
our fathers is fading away. Last fall, a year ago, both parties
recognized those principles in their platforms, and each candidate
solemnly declared that he would abide by them if elected. But lo, all
old things are passing away, and the lady from Montana has filed a bill
asking that separate citizenship be granted to American women marrying
foreigners.”

Representative Greene of Massachusetts, Republican, all but shed tears
over the inevitable amending of the Constitution:

“I have read it [the Constitution] many times, and there have been just
17 amendments adopted since the original Constitution was framed by the
master minds whom God had inspired in the cabin of the Mayflower to
formulate the Constitution of the Plymouth Colony which was made the
basis of the Constitution of Massachusetts and subsequently resulted in
the establishment of the Constitution of the United States under which
we now live . . . .”

Fancy his shock at finding the pickets triumphant.

“Since the second session of the Sixty-fifth Congress opened,” he said,
“I have met several women suffragists from the State of Massachusetts.
I have immediately propounded to them this one question: ‘Do you
approve or disapprove of the suffrage banners in front of the White
House . . . ?’ The answer in nearly every case to my question was: ‘I
glory in that demonstration’ . . . the response to my question was very
offensive, and I immediately ordered these suffrage advocates from my
office.”

And again the pickets featured in the final remarks of Mr. Small of
North Carolina, Democrat, who deplored the fact that advocates of the
amendment had made it an issue inducing party rivalry. “This is no
party question, and such efforts will be futile. It almost equals in
intelligence the scheme of that delectable and inane group of women who
picketed the White House on the theory that the President could grant
them the right to vote.”

Amid such gems of intellectual delight the House of the great American
Congress passed the national suffrage amendment.

We turned our entire attention then to the Senate.




Chapter 16
An Interlude (Seven Months)


The President had finally thrown his power to putting the amendment
through the House. We hoped he would follow this up by insisting upon
the passage of the amendment in the Senate. We ceased our acts of
dramatic protest for the moment and gave our energies to getting public
pressure upon him, to persuade him to see that the Senate acted. We
also continued to press directly upon recalcitrant senators of the
minority party who could be won only through appeals other than from
the President.

There are in the Senate 96 members—2 elected from each of the 48
states. To pass a constitutional amendment through the Senate, 64 votes
are necessary, a two-thirds majority. At this point in the campaign, 58
senators were pledged to support the measure and 48 were opposed. We
therefore had to win 11 more votes. A measure passed through one branch
of Congress must be passed through the other branch during the life of
that Congress, otherwise it dies automatically and must be born again
in a new Congress. We therefore had only the remainder of the first
regular session of the 65th Congress and, failing of that, the short
second session from December, 1918, to March, 1919, in which to win
those votes.

Backfires were started in the states of the senators not yet committed
to the amendment. Organized demand for action in the Senate grew to
huge proportions.

We turned also to the leading influential members of the respective
parties for active help.

Colonel Roosevelt did his most effective suffrage work at this period
in a determined attack upon the few unconvinced Republican Senators.
The Colonel was one of the few leaders in our national life who was
never too busy to confer or to offer and accept suggestions as to
procedure. He seemed to have imagination about women. He never took a
patronizing attitude nor did he with moral unction dogmatically tell
you how the fight should be waged and won. He presupposed ability among
women leaders. He was not offended, morally or politically, by our
preferring to go to jail rather than to submit in silence. In fact, he
was at this time under Administration fire, because of his bold attacks
upon some of their policies, and remarked during an interview at Oyster
Bay:

“I may soon join you women in jail. One can never tell these days.”

His sagacious attitude toward conservative and radical suffrage forces
was always delightful and indicative of his appreciation of the
political and social value of a movement’s having vitality enough to
disagree on methods. None of the banal philosophy that “you can never
win until all your forces get together” from the Colonel. One day, as I
came into his office for an interview, I met a member of the
conservative suffragists just leaving, and we spoke. In his office the
Colonel remarked, “You know, I contemplated having both you and Mrs.
Whitney come to see me at the same time, since it was on a similar
mission, but I didn’t quite know whether the lion and the lamb would
lie down together, and I thought I’d better take no chances . . . . But
I see you’re on speaking terms,” he added. I answered that our
relations were extremely amiable, but remarked that the other side
might not like to be called “lambs.”

“You delight in being the lions-on that point I am safe, am I not?” And
he smiled his widest smile as he plunged into a vivid expository attack
upon the Senatorial opponents of suffrage in his own party. He wrote
letters to them. If this failed, he invited them to Oyster Bay for the
week-end. Never did he abandon them until there was literally not a
shadow of hope to bank on.

When the Colonel got into action something always happened on the
Democratic side. He made a public statement to Senator Gallinger of New
Hampshire, Republican leader in the Senate, in which lie pointed to the
superior support of the Republicans and urged even more liberal party
support to ensure the passage of the amendment in the Senate. Action by
the Democrats followed fast on the heels of this public statement.

The National Executive Committee of the Democratic party, after a
referendum vote of the members of the National Committeemen, passed a
resolution calling for favorable action in the Senate. Mr. A. Mitchell
Palmer wrote to the Woman’s Party saying that this resolution must be
regarded as “an official expression of the Democratic Party through the
only organization which can speak for it between national conventions.”

The Republican National Committee meeting at the same time commended
the course taken by Republican Representatives who had voted for the
amendment in the House, and declared their position to be “a true
interpretation of the thought of the Republican Party.”

Republican and Democratic state, county and city committees followed
the lead and called for Senate action.

State legislatures in rapid succession called upon the Senate to pass
the measure, that they in turn might immediately ratify. North Dakota,
New York, Rhode Island, Arizona, Texas and other states acted in this
matter.

Intermittent attempts on the Republican side to force action, followed
by eloquent speeches from time to time, piquing their opponents, left
the Democrats bison-like across the path. The majority of them were
content to rest upon the action taken in the House.

I was at this time Chairman of the Political Department of the Woman’s
Party, and in that capacity interviewed practically every national
leader in both majority parties. I can not resist recording a few
impressions.

Colonel William Boyce Thompson of New York, now Chairman of Ways and
Means of the Republican National Committee, who with Raymond Robins had
served in Russia as member of the United States Red Cross. Mission, had
just returned. The deadlock was brought to his attention. He
immediately responded in a most effective way. In a brief but dramatic
speech at a great mass meeting of the Woman’s Party, at Palm Beach,
Florida, he said:

“The story of the brutal imprisonment in Washington of women advocating
suffrage is shocking and almost incredible. I became accustomed in
Russia to the stories of men and women who served terms of imprisonment
under the Czar, because of their love of liberty, but did not know that
women in my own country had been subjected to brutal treatment long
since abandoned in Russia.

“I wish now to contribute ten thousand dollars to the campaign for the
passage of the suffrage amendment through the Senate,, one hundred
dollars for each of the pickets who went to prison because she stood at
the gates of the White House, asking for the passage of the suffrage
measure.”

This was the largest single contribution received during the national
agitation. Colonel Thompson had been a suffragist all his life, but he
now became actively identified with the work for the national
amendment. Since then he has continued to give generously of his money
and to lend his political prestige as often as necessary.

Colonel House was importuned to use his influence to win additional
Democratic votes in the Senate, or better still to urge the President
to win them. Colonel House is an interesting but not unfamiliar type in
politics. Extremely courteous, mild mannered, able, quickly
sympathetic, he listens with undistracted attention to your request.
His round bright eyes snap as he comes at you with a counter-proposal.
It seems so reasonable. And while you know he is putting back upon you
the very task you are trying to persuade him to undertake, he does it
so graciously that you can scarcely resist liking it. He has the manner
of having done what you ask without actually doing more than to make
you feel warm at having met him. It is a kind of elegant statecraft
which has its point of grace, but which is exasperating when
effectiveness is needed. Not that Colonel House was not a supporter of
the federal amendment. He was. But his gentle, soft and traditional
kind of diplomacy would not employ high-powered pressure. “I shall be
going to Washington soon on other matters, and I shall doubtless see
the President. Perhaps he may bring up the subject in conversation, and
if he does, and the opportunity offers itself, I may be able to do
something.” Some such gentle threat would come from the Colonel. He was
not quite so tender, however, in dealing with Democratic senators,
after the President declared for the amendment. He did try to win them.

Ex-President Taft, then joint Chairman of the National War Labor Board,
was interviewed at his desk just after rendering an important
democratic labor award.

“No, indeed! I’ll do nothing for a proposition which adds more voters
to our electorate. I thought my position on this question was well
known,” said Mr. Taft.

“But we thought you doubtless had changed your mind since the beginning
of our war for democracy——” I started to answer.

“This is not a war for democracy,” he said emphatically, looking
quizzically at me for my assertion; “if it were, I wouldn’t be doing
anything for it …. The trouble in this country is we’ve got too many mm
voting as it is. Why, I’d take the vote away from most of the men,” he
added. I wanted to ask him what men he would leave voting. I wanted
also to tell him they were taking the vote away from one class of men
in Russia at that moment.

Instead, I said, “Well, I’m not quite sure whom we could trust to sit
in judgment”—while he looked smiling and serene, as much as to say,
“Oh, that would be a simple matter.”

“However,” I said, “we have no quarrel with you. You are an avowed
aristocrat, and we respect your candor. Our quarrel is with democrats
who will not trust their own doctrines.” Again he smiled with as much
sophistication as such a placid face could achieve, and that was all. I
believe Mr. Taft has lately modified his attitude toward women voting.
I do not know how he squares that with his distaste of democracy.

There was Samuel Gompers, President of the American Federation of
Labor, high in Administration confidence. It was a long wait before
Abby Scott Baker and I were allowed into his sanctum.

“Well, ladies, what can I do for you?” was the opening question, and
we’ thought happily here is a man who will not bore us with his life
record on behalf of women. He comes to the point with direction.

“Will you speak to the President on behalf of your organization, which
has repeatedly endorsed national suffrage, to induce him to put more
pressure behind the Senate which is delaying suffrage?” we asked with
equal direction. We concealed a heavy sigh as a reminiscent look came
into his shrewd, wan eyes, and he began:

“Doubtless you ladies do not know that as long ago as 1888”-I believe
that was the date-“my organization sent a petition to the United States
Congress praying for the adoption of this very amendment and we have
stood for it ever since . . . .”

“Don’t you think it is about time that prayer was answered?” we
ventured to interrupt. But his reverie could not be disturbed. He
looked at us coldly, for he was living in the past, and continued to
recount the patient, enduring qualities of his organization.

“I will speak to my secretary and see what the organization can do,” he
said finally. We murmured again that it was the President we wished him
to speak to, but we left feeling reasonably certain that there would be
no dynamic pressure from this cautious leader.

Herbert Hoover was the next man we sought. Here we encountered the
well-groomed secretary who would not carry our cards into his chief.

“Mr. Hoover has appointments a week ahead,” he said. “For example, his
chart for to-day includes a very important conference with some grain
men from the Northwest,” . . . and he continued to recite the items of
the chart, ending with “a dinner at the White House to-night.”

“If we could see him for just five minutes,” we persisted, “he could do
what we ask this very night at the White House.” But the
trained-to-protect secretary was obdurate.

“We shall leave a written request for five minutes at Mr. Hoover’s
convenience,” we said, and prepared the letter.

Time passed without answer. Mrs. Baker and I were compelled to go again
to Mr. Hoover’s office.

Again we were greeted by the affable secretary, who on this occasion
recounted not only his chief’s many pressing engagements, but his
devoted family life—his Saturday and Sunday habits which were “so
dreadfully cut into by his heavy work:” We were sympathetic but firm.
Would Mr. Hoover not be willing to answer our letter? Would he not be
willing to state publicly that he thought the amendment ought to be
passed in the Senate? Would the secretary, in short, please go to him
to ascertain if he’ would be willing to say a single word in behalf of
the political liberty of women? The secretary disappeared and returned
to say, “Mr. Hoover wishes me to tell you ladies he can give no time
whatever to the consideration of your question until after the war is
over. This is final.”

The Chief Food Administrator would continue to demand sacrifices of
women throughout the war, but he would not give so much as a thought to
their rights in return. Mr. Hoover was the only. important man in
public life who steadfastly refused to see our representatives. After
announcing his candidacy for nomination to the Presidency he authorized
his secretary to write us a letter saying he had always been for woman
suffrage.

Mr. Bainbridge Colby, then member of the Emergency Fleet Corporation of
the Shipping Board and member of the Inter-Allied Council which sat on
shipping problems, now Secretary of State in President Wilson’s
Cabinet, was approached as a suffragist, known to have access to the
President. Mr. Colby had just returned from abroad when I saw him. He
is a cultivated gentleman, but he knows how to have superlative
enthusiasm.

“In the light of the world events,” he said, “this reform is
insignificant. No time or energy ought to be diverted from the great
program of crushing the Germans.”

“But can we not do that,” I asked, “without neglecting internal
liberties?”

Mr. Colby is a strong conformist. He became grave. When I was
indiscreet enough to reveal that I was inclined to pin my faith to the
concrete liberty of women, rather than to a vague and abstract “human
freedom,” which was supposed to descend upon the world, once the
Germans were beaten, I know he wanted to call me “seditious.” But he is
a gallant gentleman and he only frowned with distress. He continued
with enthusiasm to plan to build ships.

Bernard Baruch, then member of the Advisory Committee of the Council of
National Defense, later economic expert at the Peace Conference, was
able to see the war and the women’s problem at the same time. He is an
able politician and was therefore sensitive to our appeal; he saw the
passage of the amendment as a political asset. I do not know how much
he believed in the principle. That was of minor importance. What was
important was that he agreed to tell the President that he believed it
wise to put more pressure on the measure in the Senate. Also I believe
Mr. Baruch was one member of the Administration who realized in the
midst of the episode that arresting women was bad politics, to say
nothing of the doubtful chivalry of it.

George Creel, chairman of the Committee on Public Information, was also
asked for help. We went to him many times, because his contact with the
President was constant. A suffragist of long standing, he nevertheless
hated our militant tactics, for he knew we were winning and the
Administration was losing. He is a strange composite. Working at
terrific tension and mostly under fire, he was rarely in calm enough
mood to sit down and devise ways and means.

“But I talk to the President every day on this matter”—and—“I am doing
all I can”—and—“The President is doing all he can”—he would drive at
you—without stopping for breath.

“But if you will just ask him to get Senator ——”

“He is working on the Senator now. You people must give him time. He
has other things to do,” he would say, sweeping aside every suggestion.
Familiar advice!

Charles D. Hilles, former Chairman of the Republican National
Committee, was a leader who had come slowly to believe in national
suffrage. But, once convinced, he was a faithful and dependable
colleague who gave practical political assistance.

William Randolph Hearst in powerful editorials called upon the Senators
to act. Mr. R. J. Caldwell of New York, life-long suffragist, financier
and man of affairs, faithfully and persistently stood by the amendment
and by the militants. A more generous contributor and more diligent
ally could not be found. A host of public men were interviewed and the
great majority of them did help at this critical juncture. It is
impossible to give a list that even approaches adequacy, so I shall not
attempt it.

Our pressure from below and that of the leaders from above began to
have its effect. An attempt was made by Administration leaders to force
a vote on May 19, 1918. Friends interceded when it was shown that not
enough votes were pledged to secure passage. Again the vote was
tentatively set for June 27th and again postponed.

The Republicans, led by Senator Gallinger, provided skirmishes from
time to time. The Administration was accused on the floor of blocking
action, to which accusation its leaders did not even reply.

Still unwilling to believe that we would be forced to resume our
militancy we attempted to talk to the President again A special
deputation of women munition workers was sent to him under our
auspices. The women waited for a week, hoping he would consent to see
them among his receptions—to the Blue Devils of France, to a Committee
of Indians, to a Committee of Irish Patriots, and so forth.

“No time,” was the answer. And the munition workers were forced to
submit their appeal in writing.

“We are only a few of the thousands of American women,” they wrote the
President, “who are forming a growing part of the army at home. The
work we are doing is hard and dangerous to life and health, making
detonators, handling TNT, the highest of all explosives. We want to be
recognized by our country, as much her citizens as our soldiers are.”

Mr. Tumulty replied for the President:

“The President asks me to say that nothing you or your associates could
say could possibly increase his very deep interest in this matter and
that he is doing everything that he could with honor and propriety do
in behalf of the [suffrage] amendment.”

An opportunity was given the President to show again his sympathy for a
world-wide endeavor just after having ignored this specific opportunity
at home. He hastened to accept the larger field. In response to a
memorial transmitted through Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt, President of the
International Woman Suffrage Alliance, the French Union for Woman
Suffrage urged the President to use his aid on their behalf “which will
be a powerful influence for woman suffrage in the entire world.” The
memorial was endorsed by the suffrage committee of Great Britain,
Italy, Belgium, and Portugal. The President took the occasion to say:
“The democratic reconstruction of the world will not have been
completely or adequately obtained until women are admitted to the
suffrage. As for America it is my earnest hope that the Senate of the
United States will give an unmistakable answer by passing the federal
amendment before the end of this session.”

Meanwhile four more Democratic Senators pledged their support to the
amendment. Influenced by the President’s declaration of support, and by
widespread demands from their constituents, Senators Phelan of
California, King of Utah, Gerry of Rhode Island, and Culberson of Texas
abandoned the ranks of the opposition.

During this same period the Republican side of the Senate gave five
more Republican Senators to the amendment. They were Senators McCumber
of North Dakota, Kellogg of Minnesota, Harding of Ohio, Page of
Vermont, and Sutherland of West Virginia. All of these men except
Senator McCumber[1] were won through the pressure from Republican Party
leaders.

[1] Senator McCumber, though opposed, was compelled to support the
measure, by the action of the N. D. legislature commanding him to do
so.


This gain of nine recruits reduced to two the number of votes to be
won.

When at the end of seven months from the time the amendment had passed
the House, we still lacked these two votes, and the President gave no
assurance that he would put forth sufficient effort to secure them, we
were compelled to renew our attacks upon the President.




Chapter 17
New Attacks on the President


The Senate was about to recess. No assurance was given by the majority
that suffrage would be considered either before or after the recess.
Alarmed and aroused, we decided upon a national protest in Washington
August 6th, the anniversary of the birth of Inez Milholland.

The protest took the form of a meeting at the base of the Lafayette
monument in the park, directly opposite the White House. Women from
many states in the Union, dressed in white, hatless and coatless in the
midsummer heat of Washington, marched t0 the monument carrying banners
of purple, white and gold, led by a standard-bearer carrying the
American flag. They made a beautiful mass of color as they grouped
themselves around the statue, against the abundant green foliage of the
park.

The Administration met this simple reasonable form of protest by
further arrests.

Mrs. Lawrence Lewis of Philadelphia, the first speaker, began: “We are
here because when our country is at war for liberty and democracy . .
.” At that point she was roughly seized by a policeman and placed under
arrest. The great audience stood in absolute and amazed silence.

Miss Hazel Hunkins of Montana took her place. “Here at the statue of
Lafayette, who fought for the liberty of this country,” she began, “and
under the American flag, I am asking for . . .” She was immediately
arrested.

Miss Vivian Pierce of California began: “President Wilson has said . .
.’ She was dragged from the plinth to the waiting patrol.

One after another came forward in an attempt to speak, but no one was
allowed to continue. Wholesale arrests followed. Just as the women were
being taken into custody, according to the New York Evening World of
August 13th, “the President walked out of the northeast gate of the
White House and up Pennsylvania Avenue for a conference with Director
General of Railroads McAdoo. The President glanced across the street
and smiled.”

Before the crowd could really appreciate what had happened, forty-eight
women had been hustled to the police station by the wagon load, their
gay banners floating from the backs of the somber patrols. They were
told that the police had arrested them under the orders of Col. C. S.
Ridley, the President’s military aide, and assistant to the Chief
Engineer attached to the War Department. All were released on bail and
ordered to appear in court the following day.

When they appeared they were informed by the Government’s attorney that
he would have to postpone the trial until the following Tuesday so that
he might examine witnesses to see “what offense, if any, the women
would be charged with.”

“I cannot go on with this case,” he said, “I have had no orders. There
are no precedents for cases like these . . . .”

The women demanded that their cases be dismissed, or else a charge made
against them. They were merely told to return on the appointed day.
Such was the indignation aroused against the Administration for taking
this action that Senator Curtis of Kansas, Republican whip, could say
publicly:

“The truth of this statement is made evident by the admission of the
court that the forty-eight suffragists are arrested upon absolutely no
charges, and that these women, among them munition workers and Red
Cross workers, are held in Washington until next Tuesday, under arrest,
while the United States attorney for the District of Columbia decides
for what offense, ‘if any,’ they were arrested.

“The meeting was called to make a justified protest against continued
blocking of the suffrage amendment by the Democratic majority in the
Senate. It is well known that three-fourths of the Republican
membership in the Senate are ready to vote for the amendment, but under
the control of the Democratic majority the Senate has recessed for six
weeks without making any provision for action on this important
amendment.

“In justice to the women who have been working so hard for the
amendment it should be passed at the earliest date, and if action is
not taken on it soon after the resumption of business in the Senate
there is every possibility that it will not be taken during this
Congress, and the hard-won victory in the House of Representatives will
have been won for nothing.”

When they finally came to trial ten days after their arrest, to face
the charge of “holding a meeting in public grounds,” and for eighteen
of the defendants an additional charge of “climbing on a statue,” the
women answered the roll call but remained silent thereafter. The
familiar farce ensued. Some were released for lack of identification.
The others were sentenced to the District Jail—for ten days if they had
merely assembled to hold a public meeting, for fifteen days if they had
also “climbed on a statue”

The Administration evidently hoped by lighter sentences to avoid a
hunger strike by the prisoners.

The women were taken immediately to a building, formerly used as a
man’s workhouse, situated in the swamps of the District prison grounds.
This building, which had been declared unfit for human habitation by a
committee appointed under President Roosevelt in 1909, and which had
been uninhabited ever since, was now reopened, nine years later, to
receive twenty-six women who had attempted to hold a meeting in a
public park in Washington. The women protested in a body and demanded
to be treated as political prisoners. This being refused, all save two
very elderly women, too frail to do so, went on hunger strike at once.

This last lodgment was the worst. Hideous aspects which had not been
encountered in the workhouse and jail proper were encountered here. The
cells, damp and cold, were below the level of the upper door and
entirely below the high windows. The doors of the cell were partly of
solid steel with only a small section of grating, so that a very tiny
amount of light penetrated the cells. The wash basins were small and
unsightly; the toilet open, with no pretense of covering. The cots were
of iron, without any spring, and with only a thin straw pallet to lie
upon. The heating facilities were antiquated and the place was always
cold. So frightful were the nauseating odors which permeated the place,
and so terrible was the drinking water from the disused pipes, that one
prisoner after another became violently ill.

“I can hardly describe that atmosphere,” said Mrs. W. D. Ascough, of
Connecticut. “It was a deadly sort of smell, insidious and revolting.
It oppressed and stifled us. There was no escape.”

As a kind of relief from these revolting odors, they took their straw
pallets from the cells to the floor outside. They were ordered back to
their cells but refused in a body to go. They preferred the stone
floors to the vile odors within, which kept them nauseated.

Conditions were so shocking that Senators began to visit their
constituents in this terrible hole. Many of them protested to the
authorities. Protests came in from the country, too.

At the end of the fifth day the Administration succumbed to the hunger
strike and released the prisoners, trembling with weakness, some of
them with chills and some of them in a high fever, scarcely able even
to walk to the ambulance or motor car.

We had won from the Administration, however, a concession to our
protest. Prior to the release of the prisoners we had announced that in
spite of the previous arrests a second protest meeting would be held on
the same spot. A permit to hold this second protest meeting was granted
us.

“I have been advised [Col. Ridley wrote to Miss Paul that you desire to
hold a demonstration in Lafayette Square on Thursday, August 9.2d. By
direction of the chief of engineers, U. S. Army, you are hereby granted
permission to hold this demonstration. You are advised good order must
prevail.”

“We received yesterday [Miss Paul replied] your permit for a suffrage
demonstration in Lafayette Park this afternoon, and are very glad that
our meetings are no longer to be interfered with. Because of the
illness of so many of our members, due to their treatment in prison
this last week, and with the necessity of caring for them at
headquarters, we are planning to hold our neat meeting a little later.
We have not determined on the exact date but we will inform you of the
time as soon as it is decided upon.”

It was reported on credible authority that this concession -was the
result of a conference at which the President, Secretary of War Baker
and Colonel Ridley were present. It was said that Secretary Baker and
Colonel Ridley persuaded the President to withdraw the orders to arrest
us and allow our meetings to go on, even though they took the form of
attacks upon the President.

Two days after the release of the women, the Republican Party, for the
first time in the history of woman suffrage, caucused in the Senate in
favor of forcing suffrage to a vote.

The resolution which was passed unanimously by the caucus determined to
“insist upon consideration immediately” and ‘also to insist upon a
final vote . . . at the earliest possible moment …. Provided, That this
resolution shall not be construed as in any way binding the action or
vote of any Member of the Senate upon the merits of the said woman
suffrage amendment.”

While not a direct attempt, therefore, to win more Republican Senators,
this proved a very great tactical contribution to the cause. The
Republicans were proud of their suffrage strength. They knew the
Democrats were not. With the Congressional elections approaching the
Republicans meant to do their part toward acquainting the country with
the Administration’s policy of vacillation and delay. This was not only
helpful to the Republicans politically; it was also advantageous to the
amendment in that it goaded the majority into action.

Nine months had passed since the vote in the House and we were
perilously near the end of the session, when on the 16th of September,
Senator Overman, Democrat, Chairman of the Rules Committee, stated to
our Legislative Chairman that suffrage was “not on the program for this
session” and that the Senate would recess in a few days for the
election campaigns without considering any more legislation. On the
same day Senator Jones, Chairman of the Suffrage Committee, announced
to us that he would not even call his Committee together to consider
taking a vote.

We had announced a fortnight earlier that another protest meeting would
be held at the base of the Lafayette Monument that day, September 16th,
at four o’clock. No sooner had this protest been announced than the
President publicly stated that he would receive a delegation of
Southern and Western women partisans on the question of the amendment
at two o’clock the same day.

To this delegation he said, “I am, as I think you know, heartily in
sympathy with you. I have endeavored to assist you in every way in my
power, and I shall continue to do so. I will do all I can to urge the
passage of the amendment by an early vote.”

Presumably this was expected to disarm us and perhaps silence our
demonstration. However, it merely moved us to make another hasty visit
to Senator Overman, Chairman of the Rules Committee, and to Senator
Jones, Chairman of the Suffrage Committee, between the hours of two and
four to see if the President’s statement that he would do all he could
to secure an early vote had altered their statements made earlier in
the day.

These Administration leaders assured us that their statements stood;
that no provision had been made for action on the amendment; that the
President’s statement did not mean that a vote would be taken this
session; and that they did not contemplate being so advised by him.

Such a situation was intolerable. The President was uttering more fine
words, while his Administration leaders interpreted them to mean
nothing, because they were not followed up by action on his part.

We thereupon changed our demonstration at four o’clock to a more
drastic form of protest. We took these words of the President to the
base of Lafayette Monument and burned them in a flaming torch.

A throng gathered to hear the speakers. Ceremonies were opened with the
reading of the following appeal by Mrs. Richard Wainwright, wife of
Rear-Admiral Wainwright:

“Lafayette, we are here!

“We, the women of the United States, denied the liberty which you
helped to gain, and for which we have asked in vain for sixty years,
turn to you to plead for us.

“Speak, Lafayette, dead these hundred years but still living in the
hearts of the American people. Speak again to plead for us like the
bronze woman at your feet, condemned like us to a silent appeal. She
offers you a sword. Will you not use for us the sword of the spirit,
mightier far than the sword she holds out to you?

“Will you not ask the great leader of democracy to look upon the
failure of our beloved country to be in truth the place where every one
is free and equal and entitled to a share in the government? Let that
outstretched hand of yours pointing to the White House recall to him
his words and promises, his trumpet call for all of us, to see that the
world is made safe for democracy.

“As our army now in France spoke to you there, saying here we are to
help your country fight for liberty, will you not speak here and now
for us, a little band with no army, no power but justice and right, no
strength but in our Constitution and in the Declaration of
Independence; and win a great victory again in this country by giving
us the opportunity we ask,—to be heard through the Susan B. Anthony
amendment.

“Lafayette, we are here!”

Before the enthusiastic applause for Mrs. Wainwright’s appeal had died
away, Miss Lucy Branham of Baltimore stepped forward with a flaming
torch, which she applied to the President’s latest words on suffrage.
The police looked on and smiled, and the crowd cheered as she said:

“The torch which I hold symbolizes the burning indignation of the women
who for years have been given words without action . . . .

“For five years women have appealed to this President and his party for
political freedom. The President has given words, and words, and words.
To-day women receive more words. We announce to the President and the
whole world to-day, by this act of ours, our determination that words
shall not longer be the only reply given to American women—our
determination that this same democracy for whose establishment abroad
we are making the utmost sacrifice, shall also prevail at home.

“We have protested to this Administration by banners; we have protested
by speeches; we now protest by this symbolic act.

“As in the ancient fights for liberty, the crusaders for freedom
symbolized their protest against those responsible for injustice by
consigning their hollow phrases to the flames, so we, on behalf of
thousands of suffragists, in this same way to-day protest against the
action of the President and his party in delaying the liberation of
American women.”

Mrs. Jessie Hardy Mackaye of Washington, D. C., then came forward to
the end of the plinth to speak, and as she appeared, a man in the crowd
handed her a twenty-dollar bill for the campaign in the Senate. This
was the signal for others. Bills and coins were passed up. Instantly
marshals ran hither and thither collecting the money in improvised
baskets while the cheers grew louder and louder. Many of the policemen
present were among the donors.

Burning President Wilson’s words had met with popular approval from a
large crowd!

The procession of women was starting back to headquarters, the police
were eagerly clearing the way for the line; the crowd was dispersing in
order; the great golden banner, “Mr. President, what will you do for
woman suffrage?” was just swinging past the White House gate, when
President Wilson stepped into his car for the afternoon drive.




Chapter 18
President Wilson Appeals to the Senate Too Late


The next day the Administration completely reversed its policy. Almost
the first Senate business was an announcement on the floor by Senator
Jones, Chairman of the Suffrage Committee, that the suffrage amendment
would be considered in the Senate September 26th. And Senator Overman,
Chairman of the Rules Committee, rather shyly remarked to our
legislative chairman that he had been “mistaken yesterday.” It was “now
in the legislative program.” The Senate still stood 6Q votes for and 34
against the amendment—2 votes lacking. The President made an effort
among individual Democrats to secure them. But it was too feeble an
effort and he failed.

Chairman Jones took charge of the measure on the floor. The debate
opened with a long and eloquent. speech by Senator Vardaman of
Mississippi, Democrat, in support of the amendment. “My estimate of
woman,” said he, in conclusion, “is well expressed in the words
employed by a distinguished author who dedicated his book to a ‘Little
mountain, a great meadow, and a woman,’ ‘To the mountain for the sense
of time, to the meadow for the sense of space, and of everything.’”

Senator McCumber of North Dakota, Republican, followed with a curious
speech. His problem was to explain why, although opposed to suffrage,
he would vote for the amendment. Beginning with the overworked “cave
man” and “beasts of the forests,” and down to the present day, “the
male had always protected the female” He always would! Forgetting
recent events in the Capital, he went so far as to say, “ . . . In our
courts she ever finds in masculine nature an asylum of protection, even
though she may have committed great wrong. While the mind may be
convinced beyond any doubt, the masculine heart finds it almost
impossible to pronounce the word ‘guilty’ against a woman.” Scarcely
had the galleries ceased smiling at this idea when he treated them to a
novel application of the biological theory of inheritance. “The
political field,” he declared, “always has been and probably always
will be an arena of more or less bitter contest. The political battles
leave scars as ugly and lacerating as the physical battles, and the
more sensitive the nature the deeper and more lasting the wound. And as
no man can enter this contest or be a party to it and assume its
responsibilities without feeling its blows and suffering its wounds,
much less can woman with her more emotional and more sensitive nature.

“But . . . you may ask why should she be relieved from the scars and
wounds of political contest? Because they do not affect her alone but
are transmitted through her to generations yet to come . . . . “

The faithful story of the sinking ship was invoked by the Senator from
North Dakota. One might almost imagine after listening to Congressional
debates for some years that traveling on sinking ships formed a large
part of human experience. “Fathers, sons, and brothers,” said the
Senator in tearful voice, “guarding the lifeboats until every woman
from the highest to the lowest has been made safe, waving adieu with a
smile of cheer on their lips, while the wounded vessel slowly bears
them to a strangling death and a watery tomb, belie the charge . . “
that woman needs her citizenship as a form of protection.

In spite of these opinions, however, the Senator was obliged to vote
for the amendment because his state had so ordered.

Senator Hardwick of Georgia, Democrat, felt somewhat betrayed that the
suffrage plank in the platform of his party in 1916, recommending state
action, should be so carelessly set aside. “There is not a Democratic
Senator present,” said Mr. Hardwick, “who does not know the history
that lies back of the adoption of that plank. There is not a Democratic
Senator who does not know that the plank was written here in Washington
and sent to the convention and represented the deliberate voice of the
administration and of the party on this question, which was to remit
this question to the several States for action . . . .

“The President of the United States . . . was reported to have sent
this particular plank . . .from Washington, supposedly by the hands of
one of his Cabinet officers.” The fact that his own party and the
Republican party were both advancing on suffrage irritated him into
denouncing the alacrity with which “politicians and senators are trying
to get on the band wagon first.”

Senator McKellar of Tennessee, Democrat, reduced the male superiority
argument to simple terms when he said: “ . . . Taking them by and
large, there are brainy men and brainy women, and that is about all
there is to the proposition.”

Our armies were sweeping victorious toward Germany. There was round on
round of eloquence about the glories of war. Rivers of blood flowed.
And always the role of woman was depicted as a contented binding of
wounds. There were those who thought woman should be rewarded for such
service. Others thought she ought to do it without asking anything in
return. But all agreed that this was her role. There was no woman’s
voice in that body to protest against the perpetuity of such a rôle.

The remarks of Senator Reed of Missouri, anti-suffrage Democrat, typify
this attitude. “. . . Women in my state believe in the old-fashioned
doctrine that men should fight the battles on the red line; that men
should stand and bare their bosoms to the iron hail; and that back of
them, if need be, there shall be women who may bind up the wounds and
whose tender hands may rest upon the brow of the valiant soldier who
has gone down in the fight.

“But, sir, that is woman’s work, and it has been woman’s work always .
. . . The woman who gave her first born a final kiss and blessed him on
his way to battle,” had, according to the Senator from Missouri, earned
a “crown of glory . . . gemmed with the love of the world.”

And with Senator Walsh of Montana, Democrat, “The women of America have
already written a glorious page in the history of the greatest of wars
that have vexed the world. They, like Cornelia, have given, and freely
given, their jewels to their country.”

Some of us wondered.

Senator McLean of Connecticut, anti-suffrage Republican, flatly stated
“that all questions involving declarations of war and terms of peace
should be left to that sex which must do the fighting and the dying on
the battlefield.” And he further said that until boys between 18 and 21
who had just been called to the colors should ask for the vote, “their
mothers should be and remain both proud and content” without it. He
concluded with an amusing account of the history of the ballot box.
“This joint resolution,” he said, “goes beyond the seas and above the
clouds. It attempts to tamper with the ballot box, over which mother
nature always has had and always will have supreme control; and such
attempts always have ended and always will end in failure and
misfortune.”

Senator Phelan of California, Democrat, made a straightforward,
intelligent speech.

Senator Beckham of Kentucky, Democrat, deplored the idea that man was
superior to woman. He pleaded “guilty to the charge of Romanticism.” He
said, “But I look upon woman as superior to man.” Therefore he could
not trust her with a vote. He had the hardihood to say further, with
the men of the world at each other’s throats, . . . “Woman is the
civilizing, refining, elevating influence that holds man from
barbarism.” We charged him with ignorance as well as romanticism when
he said in closing, “It is the duty of man to work and labor for woman;
to cut the wood, to carry the coal, to go into the fields in the
necessary labor to sustain the home where the woman presides and by her
superior nature elevates him to higher and better conceptions of life.”

Meanwhile Senator Shafroth of Colorado, Democrat, lifelong advocate of
suffrage, was painstakingly asking one senator after another, as he had
been for years, “Does not the Senator believe that the just powers of
government are derived from the consent of the governed?” and then—“But
if you have the general principle acknowledged that the just powers of
government are derived from the consent of the governed.” . . . and so
forth. But the idea of applying the Declaration of Independence to
modern politics fairly put them to sleep.

These samples of senatorial profundity may divert, outrage, or bore us,
but they do not represent the real battle. It is not that the men who
utter these sentiments do not believe them. More is the pity, they do.
But they are smoke screens—mere skirmishes of eloquence or foolishness.
They do not represent the motives of their political acts.

The real excitement began when Senator Pittman of Nevada, Democrat,
attempted to reveal to the senators of his party the actual seriousness
of the political crisis in which the Democrats were now involved. He
also attempted to shift the blame for threatened defeat of the
amendment to the Republican side of the chamber. There was a note of
desperation in his voice, too, since he knew that President Wilson had
not up to that moment won the two votes lacking. The gist of Senator
Pittman’s remarks was this: The Woman’s Party has charged the Senate
Woman Suffrage Committee, which is in control of the Democrats, and the
President himself, with the responsibility fob obstructing a vote on
the measure. “I confess,” said he, that this is “having its effect as a
campaign argument” in the woman suffrage states.

Senator Wolcott of Delaware, Democrat, interrupted him to ask if this
was “the party that has been picketing here in Washington?” Senator
Pittman, having just paid this tribute to our campaign in the West,
hastened to say that it was, but that there was another association,
the National American Woman Suffrage Association, which had always
conducted its campaign in a “lady-like—modest—and intelligent way” and
which had “never mixed in politics.”

Waving a copy of the Suffragist in the air, Senator Pittman began his
attempt to shift responsibility to the Republican side, for the
critical condition of the amendment. He denounced the Republicans for
caucusing on the amendment and deciding unanimously to press for a
vote, when they the Republicans] knew there were two votes lacking. He
scored us for having given so much publicity to the action of the
caucus and declared with vehemence that a “trick” had been executed
through Senator Smoot which he would not allow to go unrevealed.
Senator Pittman charged that the Republicans had promised enough votes
to pass the amendment and that upon that promise the Democrats had
brought the measure on the floor; that the Republicans thereupon
withdrew enough votes to cause the defeat of the amendment. Whether or
not this was true, at any rate, as Senator Smoot pointed out, the
Democratic Chairman in charge of the measure could at any moment send
the measure back to Committee, safe from immediate defeat. This was
true, but not exactly a suggestion to be welcomed by the Democrats.

“Yes,” replied Senator Pittman, “and then if we move to refer it back
to the committee, the Senator from Utah would say again, ‘The Democrats
are obstructing the passage of this amendment . . . . We told you all
the time they wanted to kill it.’ . . . If we refer it back to the
committee, then we will be charged, as we have been all the time in the
suffrage states, with trying to prevent a vote on it, and still the
Woman’s Party campaign will go on as it is going on now; and if we vote
on it they will say: ‘We told you the Democrats would kill it, because
the President would not make 332 on his side vote for it’.”

That was the crux of the whole situation. The Democrats had been
manaeuvered into a position where they could neither afford to move to
refer the amendment back to the committee, nor could they afford to
press it to a losing vote. They were indeed in an exceedingly
embarrassing predicament.

Throughout hours of debate, Senator Pittman could not get away from the
militants. Again and again, he recited our deeds of protest, our
threats of reprisal, our relentless strategy of holding his party
responsible for defeat or victory.

“I should like the Senator,” interpolated Senator Poindexter of
Washington, Republican, “so long as he is discussing the action of the
pickets, to explain to the Senate whether or not it is the action of
the pickets . . . the militant . . . woman’s party, that caused the
President to change his attitude on the subject. Was he coerced into
supporting this measure—after he had for years opposed it—because he
was picketed? When did the President change his attitude? If it was not
because he was picketed, will the Senator explain what was the cause of
the change in the President’s attitude?”

Mr. Pittman did not reply directly to these questions.

Senator Reed of Missouri, anti-Administration Democrat, consumed hours
reading into the Congressional Record various press reports of militant
activities. He dwelt particularly upon the news headlines, such as,

“Great Washington Crowd Cheers Demonstration at White House by National
Woman’s Party.” . . .

“Suffragists Burn Wilson ‘Idle Words’ . . .”

“Money Instead of Jeers Greet Marchers and Unique Protest Against
Withholding Vote” . . .

“Apply Torch to President’s Words . . . Promise to Urge Passage of
Amendment Not Definite Enough for Militants.”

“Suff’s Burn Speech . . .,Apply Torch to Wilson’s Words During
Demonstration-Symbol of ‘Indignation’—Throngs Witnessing Doings in
Lafayette Square Orderly and Contribute to Fund—President Receives
Delegation of American Suffrage Association Women.”

Senator McKellar of Tennessee, Democrat, asked Mr. Reed if he did not
believe that we had a right peaceably to assemble under the “first
amendment to our Constitution which I shall read: Congress shall make
no law . . . abridging . . . the right of the people peaceably to
assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
Mr. Reed made no direct answer.

Lest the idea get abroad from the amount of time they spent in
discussing the actions of the “wicked militants,” that we had had
something to do with the situation which had resulted in Democratic
despair, Senator Thomas of Colorado, the one Democrat who had never
been able to conceal his hostility to us for having reduced his
majority in 1914, arose to pay a tribute to the conservative suffrage
association of America. Their “escutcheon,” he said, “is unstained by
mob methods or appeals to violence. It has neither picketed Presidents
nor populated prisons . . . . It has carried no banners flaunting
insults to the Executive,” while the militants on the other hand have
indulged in “much tumult and vociferous braying, all for notoriety’s
sake.” . . . The galleries smiled as he counseled the elder suffrage
leaders “not to lose courage nor yet be: fainthearted,” for this
“handicap” would soon be overcome. It would have taken an abler man
than Senator Thomas, in the face of the nature of this debate, to make
any one believe that we had been a “handicap” in forcing them to their
position. He was the only one hardy enough to try. After this debate
the Senate adjourned, leaving things from the point of view of party
politics, tangled in a hopeless knot. It was to untie this knot that
the President returned hastily from New York in answer to urgent
summons by long distance telephone, and went to the Capitol to deliver
his memorable address.

Mr. Vice President and Gentlemen of the Senate: The unusual
circumstances of a world war in which we stand and are judged in the
view not only of our own people and our own consciences but also in
view of all nations and all peoples will, I hope, justify in your
thought, as it does in mine, the message I have come to bring you. I
regard the concurrence of the Senate in the constitutional amendment
proposing the extension of the suffrage to women as vitally essential
to the successful prosecution of the great war of humanity in which we
are engaged. I have come to urge upon you the considerations which have
led me to that conclusion. It is not only my privilege, it is also my
duty to appraise you of every circumstance and element involved in this
momentous struggle which seems to me to affect its very processes and
its outcome. It is my duty to win the war and to ask you to remove
every obstacle that stands in the way of winning it.

I had assumed that the Senate would concur in the amendment because ho
disputable principle is involved but only a question of the method by
which the suffrage is to be extended to women. There is and can be no
party issue involved in it. Both of our great national parties are
pledged, explicitly pledged, to equality of suffrage for the women of
the country. Neither party, therefore, it seems to me, can justify
hesitation as to the method of obtaining it, can rightfully hesitate to
substitute federal initiative for state initiative, if the early
adoption, of the measure is necessary to the successful prosecution of
the war and if the method of state action proposed in party platforms
of 1916 is impracticable within any reasonable length of time, if
practicable at all. And its adoption is, in my judgment, clearly
necessary to the successful prosecution of the war and the successful
realization of the objects for which the war is being fought.

That judgment, I take the liberty of urging upon you with solemn
earnestness for reasons which I shall state very frankly and which I
shall hope will seem as conclusive to you as they have seemed to me.

This is a peoples’ war, and the peoples’ thinking constitutes its
atmosphere and morale, not the predilections of the drawing room or the
political considerations of the caucus. If we be indeed democrats and
wish to lead the world to democracy, we can ask other peoples to accept
in proof of our sincerity and our ability to lead them whither they
wish to be led nothing less persuasive and convincing than our actions.
Ours professions will not suffice. Verification must be forthcoming
when verification is asked for. And in this case verification is asked
for, asked for in this particular matter. You ask by whom? Not through
diplomatic channels; not by Foreign Ministers, not by the intimations
of parliaments. It is asked for by the anxious, expectant, suffering
peoples with whom we are dealing and who are willing to put their
destinies in some measure in our hands, if they are sure that we wish
the same things that they wish. I do not speak by conjecture. It is not
alone the voices of statesmen and of newspapers that reach me, and the
voices of foolish and intemperate agitators do not reach me at all!
Through many, many channels I have been made aware what the plain,
struggling, workaday folk are thinking upon whom the chief terror and
suffering of this tragic war falls. They are looking to the great,
powerful, famous democracy of the West to lead them to the new day for
which they have so long waited; and they think, in their logical
simplicity, that democracy means that women shall play their part in
affairs alongside men and upon an equal footing with them. If we reject
measures like this, in ignorance or defiance of what a new age has
brought forth, of what they have seen but we have not, they will cease
to follow or to trust us. They have seen their own governments accept
this interpretation of democracy,—seen old governments like Great
Britain, which did not profess to be democratic, promise readily and as
of course this justice to women, though they had before refused it, the
strange revelations of this war having made many things new and plain
to governments as well as to peoples.

Are we alone to refuse to learn the lesson? Are we alone to ask and
take the utmost that women can give,—service and sacrifice of every
kind,—and still say that we do not see what title that gives them to
stand by our sides in the guidance of the affairs of their nation and
ours? We have made partners of the women in this war; shall we admit
them only to a partnership of sacrifice and suffering and toil and not
to a partnership of privilege and of right? This war could not have
been fought, either by the other nations engaged or by America, if it
had not been for the services of the women,—services rendered in every
sphere,—not only in the fields of effort in which we have been
accustomed to see them work, but wherever men have worked and upon the
very skirts and edges of the battle itself. We shall not only be
distrusted but shall deserve to be distrusted if we do not enfranchise
them with the fullest possible enfranchisement, as it is now certain
that the other great free nations will enfranchise them. We cannot
isolate our thought or our action in such a matter from the thought of
the rest of the world. We must either conform or deliberately reject
what they propose and resign the leadership of liberal minds to others.

The women of America arc too noble and too intelligent and too devoted
to be slackers whether you give or withhold this thing that is mere
justice; but I know the magic it will work in their thoughts and
spirits if you give it them. I propose it as I would propose to admit
soldiers to the suffrage, the men fighting in the field for our
liberties and the liberties of the world, were they excluded. The tasks
of the women lie at the very heart of the war, and I know how much
stronger that heart will beat if you do this just thing and show our
women that you trust them as much as you in fact and of necessity
depend upon them.

Have I said that the passage of this amendment is a vitally necessary
war measure, and do you need further proof? Do you stand in need of the
trust of other peoples and of the trust of our women? Is that trust an
asset or is it not? I tell you plainly, as commander-in-chief of our
armies and of the gallant men in our fleets, as the present spokesman
of this people in our dealings with the men and women throughout the
world who are now our partners, as the responsible head of a great
government which stands and is questioned day by day as to its
purposes, its principles, its hopes, whether they be serviceable to men
everywhere or only to itself, and who must himself answer these
questionings or be shamed, as the guide and director of forces caught
in the grip of war and by the same token in need of every material and
spiritual resource this great nation possesses,—I tell you plainly that
this measure which I urge upon you is vital to the winning of the war
and to the energies alike of preparation and of battle.

And not to the winning of the war only. It is vital to the right
solution of the great problems which we must settle, and settle
immediately, when the war is over. We shall need then a vision of
affairs which is theirs, and, as we have never needed them before, the
sympathy and insight and clear moral instinct of the women of the
world. The problems of that time will strike to the roots of many
things that we have not hitherto questioned, and I for one believe that
our safety in those questioning days, as well as our comprehension of
matters that touch society to the quick, will depend upon the direct
and authoritative participation of women in our counsels. We shall need
their moral sense to preserve what is right and fine and worthy in our
system of life as well as to discover just what it is that ought to be
purified and reformed. Without their counselings we shall be only half
wise.

That is my case. This is my appeal. Many may deny its validity, if they
choose, but no one can brush aside or answer the arguments upon which
it is based. The executive tasks of this war rest upon me. I ask that
you lighten them and place in my hands instruments, spiritual
instruments, which I do not now possess, which I sorely need, and which
I have daily to apologize for not being able to employ. (Applause).

It was a truly beautiful appeal.

When the applause and the excitement attendant upon the occasion of a
message from the President had subsided, and the floor of the chamber
had emptied itself of its distinguished visitors, the debate was
resumed.

“If this resolution fails now,” said Senator Jones of Washington,
ranking Republican member of the Suffrage Committee, “it fails for lack
of Democratic votes.”

Senator Cummins of Iowa, Republican, also a member of the Suffrage
Committee, reminded opponents of the measure of the retaliatory tactics
used by President Wilson when repudiated by senators on other issues.
“I sincerely hope,” he said tauntingly, “that the President may deal
kindly and leniently with those who are refusing to remove this
obstacle which stands in his way. It has not been very long since the
President retired the junior Senator from Mississippi [Mr. Vardaman]
from public life. Why? Because he refused at all times to obey the
commands which were issued for his direction. The junior Senator from
Georgia [Mr. Hardwick] suffered the same fate. How do you hope to
escape? . . . My Democratic friends are either proceeding upon the
hypothesis that the President is insincere or that they may be able to
secure an immunity from him that these other unfortunate aspirants for
office failed to secure.”

Senator Cummins chided Senator Reed for denouncing “the so-called
militants who sought to bring their influence to bear upon the
situation in rather a more forcible and decisive method than was
employed by the national association. . . I did not believe in the
campaign they were pursuing (not one senator was brave enough to say
outright that he did). . . .

“But that was simply a question for them to determine; and if they
thought that in accordance with the established custom the President
should bring his influence to bear more effectively than he had, they
had a perfect right to burn his message; they had a perfect right to
carry banners in Lafayette Park, in front of the White House, or
anywhere else; they had a perfect right to bring their banners into the
Capitol and display them with all the force and vigor which they could
command. I did not agree with them; but they also were making a
campaign for an inestimable and a fundamental right.

“What would you have done, men, if you had been deprived of the right
to vote? What would you have done if you had been deprived of the right
of representation? Have the militants done anything worse than the
revolutionary forces who gathered about the tea chests and threw them
into the sea? . . .

“I do not believe they [the militants] committed any crime; and while I
had no particle of sympathy with the manner in which they were
conducting their campaign, I think their arrest and imprisonment and
the treatment which they received while in confinement are a disgrace
to the civilized world, and much the more a disgrace to the United
States, which assumes to lead the civilized world in humane endeavor.
They disturbed nobody save that disturbance which is common to the
carrying forward of all propaganda by those who are intensely and
vitally interested in it. I wish they had not done it, but I am not to
be the judge of their methods so long as they confine themselves to
those acts and to those words which are fairly directed to the
accomplishment of their purposes. I cannot accept the conclusion that
because these women burned a message in Lafayette Park or because they
carried banners upon the streets in Washington therefore they are
criminals.”

The time had come to take the vote, but we knew we had not won. The
roll was called and the vote stood 62 to 34 [Oct. 1, 1918], counting
all pairs. We had lost by 2 votes.

Instantly Chairman Jones, according to his promise to the women,
changing his vote from “yea” to “nay,” moved for a reconsideration of
the measure, and thus automatically kept it on the calendar of the
Senate. That was all that could be done.

The President’s belief in the power of words had lost the amendment.
Nor could he by a speech, eloquent as it was, break down the opposition
in the Senate which he had so long protected and condoned.

Our next task was to secure a reversal of the Senate vote. We modified
our tactics slightly.




Chapter 19
More Pressure


Our immediate task was to compel the President to secure a reversal of
two votes in the Senate. It became necessary to enter again the
Congressional elections which were a month away.

By a stroke of good luck there were two senatorial contests—in New
Jersey and New Hampshire—for vacancies in the short term. That is, we
had an opportunity to elect two friends who would take their seats in
time to vote on the amendment before the end of this session. It so
happened that the Democratic candidates were pledged to vote for the
amendment if elected, and that the Republican candidates were opposed
to the amendment. We launched our campaign in this instance for the
election of the Democratic candidates. We went immediately to the
President to ask his assistance in our endeavor. We urged him
personally to appeal to the voters of New Jersey and New Hampshire on
behalf of his two candidates. As Party leader he was at the moment
paying no attention whatever to the success of these two suffragists.
Both of the Democratic candidates themselves appealed to President
Wilson for help in their contests, on the basis of their suffrage
advocacy. His speech to the Senate scarcely cold, the President refused
to lend any assistance in these contests, which with sufficient effort
might have produced the last two votes.

At the end of two weeks of such pressure upon the President we were
unable to interest him in this practical endeavor. It was clear that he
would move again only under attack. We went again, therefore, to the
women voters of the west and asked them to withhold their support from
the Democratic Senatorial candidates in the suffrage states in order to
compel the President to assist in the two Eastern contests. This
campaign made it clear to the President that we were still holding him
and his party to their responsibility.

And as has been pointed out, our policy was to oppose the Democratic
candidates at elections so long as their party was responsible for the
passage of the amendment and did not pass it. Since there is no
question between individuals in suffrage states—they are all
suffragists—this could not increase our numerical strength. It could,
however, and did demonstrate the growing and comprehensive power of the
women voters.

Shortly before election, when our campaign was in full swing in the
West, the President sent a letter appealing to the voters of New Jersey
to support Mr. Hennessey, the Democratic candidate for the Senate. He
subsequently appealed to the voters of New Hampshire to elect Mr.
Jameson, candidate for Democratic Senator in New Hampshire.

We continued our campaign in the West as a safeguard against relaxation
by the President after his appeal. There were seven senatorial contests
in the western suffrage states. In all but two of these
contests—Montana and Nevada—the Democratic Senatorial candidates were
defeated. In these two states the Democratic majority was greatly
reduced.

Republicans won in New Jersey and New Hampshire and a Republican
Congress was elected to power throughout the country.

The election campaign had had a wholesome effect, however, on both
parties and was undoubtedly one of the factors in persuading the
President to again appeal to the Senate.

Immediately after the defeat in the Senate, and throughout the election
campaign, we attempted to hold banners at the Capitol to assist our
campaign and in order to weaken the resistance of the senators of the
opposition. The mottoes on the banners attacked with impartial
mercilessness both Democrats and Republicans. One read:

SENATOR WADSWORTH’s REGIMENT IS FIGHTING FOR DEMOCRACY ABROAD.


SENATOR WADSWORTH LEFT HIS REGIMENT AND IS FIGHTING AGAINST DEMOCRACY
IN THE SENATE.


SENATOR WADSWORTH COULD SERVE HIS COUNTRY BETTER BY FIGHTING WITH HIS
REGIMENT ABROAD THAN BY FIGHTING WOMEN AT HOME.


Another read:

SENATOR SHIELDS TOLD THE PEOPLE OF TENNESSEE HE WOULD SUPPORT THE
PRESIDENT’S POLICIES.


THE ONLY TIME THE PRESIDENT WENT TO THE SENATE TO ASK ITS SUPPORT
SENATOR SHIELDS VOTED AGAINST HIM.


DOES TENNESSEE BACK THE PRESIDENT’S WAR PROGRAM OE SENATOR SHIELDS?


And still a third:

GERMANY HAS ESTABLISHED “EQUAL, UNIVERSAL, SECRET, DIRECT FRANCHISE.”


THE SENATE HAS DENIED EQUAL, UNIVERSAL, SECRET SUFFRAGE TO AMERICA.


WHICH IS MORE OF A DEMOCRACY, GERMANY OR AMERICA?


As the women approached the Senate, Colonel Higgins, the Sergeant at
Arms of the Senate, ordered a squad of Capitol policemen to rush upon
them. They wrenched their banners from them, twisting their wrists and
manhandling them as they took them up the steps, through the door, and
down into the guardroom,—their banners confiscated and they themselves
detained for varying periods of time. When the women insisted on
knowing upon what charges they were held, they were merely told that
“peace and order must be maintained on the Capitol grounds,” and
further, “It don’t make no difference about the law, Colonel Higgins is
boss here, and he has taken the law in his own hands.”

Day after day this performance went on. Small detachments of women
attempted to hold banners outside the United States Senate, as the
women of Holland had done outside the Parliament in the Hague. It was
difficult to believe that American politicians could be so devoid of
humor as they showed themselves. The panic that overwhelms our official
mind in the face of the slightest irregularity is appalling! Instead of
maintaining peace and order, the squads of police managed to keep the
Capitol grounds in a state of confusion. They were assisted from time
to time by Senate pages, small errand boys who would run out and attack
mature women with impunity. The women would be held under the most
rigid detention each day until the Senate had safely adjourned. Then on
the morrow the whole spectacle would be repeated.

While the United States Senate was standing still under our protest
world events rushed on. German autocracy had collapsed. The Allies had
won a military victory. The Kaiser had that very week fled for his life
because of the uprising of his people.

“We are all free voters of a free republic now,” was the message sent
by the women of Germany to the women of the United States through Miss
Jane Addams. We were at that moment heartily ashamed of our government.
German women voting! American women going to jail and spending long
hours in the Senate guardhouse without arrests or, charges. The war
came to an end. Congress adjourned November 21st.

When the 65th Congress reconvened for its short and final session,
December 2nd, 1918 [less than a month after our election campaign],
President Wilson, for the first time, included suffrage in his regular
message to Congress, the thing that we had asked of him at the opening
of every session of Congress since March, 1918.

There were now fewer than a hundred days in which to get action from
the Senate and so avoid losing the benefit of our victory in the House.

In his opening address to Congress, the President again appealed to the
Senate in these words:

“And what shall we say of the women—of their instant intelligence,
quickening every task that they touched; their capacity for
organization and coöperation, which gave their action discipline and
enhanced the effectiveness of everything they attempted; their aptitude
at tasks to which they had never before set their hands; their utter
self-sacrifice alike in what they did and in what they gave? Their
contribution to the great result is beyond appraisal. They have added a
new luster to the annals of American womanhood.

“The least tribute we can pay them is to make them the equals of men in
political rights, as they have proved themselves their equals in every
field of practical work they have entered, whether for themselves or
for their country. These great days of completed achievement would be
sadly marred were we to omit that act of justice. Besides the immense
practical services they have rendered, the women of the country have
been the moving spirits in the systematic economies in which our people
have voluntarily assisted to supply the suffering peoples of the world
and the armies upon every front with food and everything else we had,
that might serve the common cause. The details of such a story can
never be fully written but we carry them at our hearts and thank God
that we can say that we are the kinsmen of such.”

Again we looked for action to follow this appeal. Again we found that
the President had uttered these words but had made no plan to translate
them into action.

And so his second appeal to the Senate failed, coming as it did after
the hostility of his party to the idea of conferring freedom on women
nationally, had been approved and fostered by President Wilson for five
solid years. He could not overcome with additional eloquence the
opposition which he himself had so long formulated, defended,
encouraged and solidified, especially when that eloquence was followed
by either no action or only half- hearted efforts.

It would now require a determined assertion of his political power as
the leader of his party. We made a final appeal to him as leader of his
party and while still at the height of his world power, to make such an
assertion and to demand the necessary two votes.




Chapter 20
The President Sails Away


No sooner had we set ourselves to a brief, hot campaign to compel
President Wilson to win the final votes than he sailed away to France
to attend the Peace Conference, sailed away to consecrate himself to
the program of liberating the oppressed peoples of the whole world. He
cannot be condemned for aiming to achieve so gigantic a task. But we
reflected that again the President had refused his specific aid in an
humble aspiration, for the rosy hope of a more boldly conceived
ambition.

It was positively impossible for us, by our own efforts, to win the
last 2 votes. We could only win them through the President. That he had
left behind him his message urging the Senate to act, is true. That
Administration leaders did not consider these words a command, is also
true. It must be realized that even after the President had been
compelled to publicly declare his support of the measure, it was almost
impossible to get his own leaders to take seriously his words on
suffrage. And so again the Democratic Chairman of the Rules Committee,
in whose keeping the program lay, had no thought of bringing it to a
vote. The Democratic Chairman of the Woman Suffrage Committee assumed
not the slightest responsibility for its success, nor could he produce
any plan whereby the last votes could be won. They knew, as well as did
we, that the President only could win those last 2 votes. They made it
perfectly clear that until he had done so, they could do nothing.

Less than fifty legislative days remained to us. Something had to be
done quickly, something bold and offensive enough to threaten the
prestige of the President, as he was riding in sublimity to unknown
heights as a champion of world liberty; something which might penetrate
his reverie and shock him into concrete action. We had successfully
defied the full power of his Administration, the odds heavily against
us. We must now defy the popular belief of the world in this apostle of
liberty. This was the feeling of the four hundred officers of the
National Woman’s Party, summoned to a three days’ conference in
Washington in December, 1918. It was unanimously decided to light a
fire in an urn, and, on the day that the President was officially
received by France, to burn with fitting public ceremonies all the
President’s past and present speeches or books concerning “liberty”,
“freedom” and “democracy.”

It was late afternoon when the four hundred women proceeded solemnly in
single file from headquarters, past the White House, along the edge of
the quiet and beautiful Lafayette Park, to the foot of Lafayette’s
statue. A slight mist added beauty to the pageant. The purple, white
and gold banners, so brilliant in the sunshine, became soft pastel
sails. Half the procession carried lighted torches; the other half
banners. The crowd gathered silently, somewhat awe-struck by the scene.
Massed about that statue, we felt a strange strength and solidarity, we
felt again that we were a part of the universal struggle for liberty.

The torch was applied to the pine-wood logs in the Grecian Urn at the
edge of the broad base of the statue. As the flames began to mount,
Vida Milholland stepped forward and without accompaniment sang again
from that spot of beauty, in her own challenging way, the Woman’s
Marseillaise. Even the small boys in the crowd, always the most
difficult to please, cheered and clapped and cried for more.

Mrs. John Rogers, Jr., chairman of the National Advisory Council, said,
as president of the ceremony:

“We hold this meeting to protest against the denial of liberty to
American women. All over the world to-day we see surging and sweeping
irresistibly on, the great tide of democracy, and women would be
derelict in their duty if they did not see to it that it brings freedom
to the women of this land . . . .

“Our ceremony to-day is planned to call attention to the fact that
President Wilson has gone abroad to establish democracy in foreign
lands when he has failed to establish democracy at home. We burn his
words on liberty to-day, not in malice or anger, but in a spirit of
reverence for truth.

“This meeting is a message to President Wilson. We expect an answer. If
the answer is more words we will burn them again. The only answer the
National Woman’s Party will accept is the instant passage of the
amendment in the Senate.”

The few hoots and jeers which followed all ceased, when a tiny and aged
woman stepped from her place to the urn in the brilliant torch light.
The crowd recognized a veteran. It was the most dramatic moment in the
ceremony. Reverend Olympia Brown of Wisconsin, one of the first
ordained women ministers in the country, then in her eighty-fourth
year, gallant pioneer, friend and colleague of Susan B. Anthony, said,
as she threw into the flames the speech made by the President on his
arrival in France:

“ . . . I have fought for liberty for seventy years, and I protest
against the President’s leaving our country with this old fight here
unwon.”

The crowd burst into applause and continued to cheer as she was
assisted from the plinth of the statue, too frail to dismount by
herself. Then came the other representative women, from Massachusetts
to California, from Georgia to Michigan, each one consigning to the
flames a special declaration of the President’s on freedom. The flames
burned brighter and brighter and leapt higher as the night grew black.

The casual observer said, “They must be crazy. Don’t they know the
President isn’t at home? Why are they appealing to him in the park
opposite the White House when he is in France?”

The long line of bright torches shone menacingly as the women marched
slowly back to headquarters, and the crowd dispersed in silence. The
White House _was_ empty. But we knew our message would be heard in
France.




Chapter 21
Watchfires of Freedom


December came to an end with no plan for action on the amendment
assured. This left us January and February only before the session
would end. The President had not yet won the necessary 2 votes. We
decided therefore to keep a perpetual fire to consume the President’s
speeches on democracy as fast as he made them in Europe.

And so on New Year’s Day, 1919, we light our first watchfire of freedom
in the Urn dedicated to that purpose. We place it on the sidewalk in a
direct line with the President’s front door. The wood comes from a tree
in

Independence Square, Philadelphia. It burns gaily. Women with banners
stand guard over the watchfire. A bell hung in the balcony at
headquarters tolls rhythmically the beginning of the watch. It tolls
again as the President’s words are tossed to the flames. His speech to
the workingmen of Manchester; his toast to the King at Buckingham
Palace: “We have used great words, all of us. We have used the words
‘right’ and ‘justice’ and now we are to prove whether or not we
understand these words;” his speech at Brest; all turn into ignominious
brown ashes.

The bell tolls again when the watch is changed. All Washington is
reminded hourly that we are at the President’s gate, burning his words.
From Washington the news goes to all the world.

People gather to see the ceremony. The omnipresent small boys and
soldiers jeer, and some tear the banners. A soldier rushes to the scene
with a bucket of water which does not extinguish the flames. The fire
burns as if by magic. A policeman arrives and uses a fire extinguisher.
But the fire burns on! The flames are as indomitable as the women who
guard them! Rain comes, but all through the night the watchfire burns.
All through the night the women stand guard.

Day and night the fire burns. Boys are permitted by the police to
scatter it in the street, to break the. urn, and to demolish the
banners. But each time the women rekindle the fire. A squad of
policemen tries to demolish the fire. While the police are engaged at
the White House gates, other women go quietly in the dusk to the huge
bronze urn in Lafayette Park and light another watchfire. A beautiful
blaze leaps into the air from the great urn. The police hasten hither.
The burning contents are overturned. Alice Paul refills the urn and
kindles a new fire. She is placed under arrest. Suddenly a third blaze
is seen in a remote corner of the park. The policemen scramble to that
corner. When the watchfires have been continued for four days and four
nights,, in spite of the attempts by the police to extinguish them,
general orders to arrest are sent to the squad of policemen.

Five women are taken to the police station. The police captain is
outraged that the ornamental urn valued at $10,000 should have been
used to hold a fire which burned the President’s words! His indignation
leaves the defendants unimpressed, however, and he becomes
conciliatory. Will the “ladies promise to be good and light no more
fires in the park?”

Instead, the “ladies” inquire on what charge they are held. Not even
the police captain knows. They wait at the police station to find out,
refusing to give bail unless they are told. Meanwhile other women
address the crowd lingering about the watchfire. The crowd asks
thoughtful questions. Little knots of men can be seen discussing “what
the whole thing is about anyway.”

Miss Mildred Morris, one of the participants, overheard the following
discussion in one group composed of an old man, a young sailor and a
young soldier.

“But whatever you think of them,” the sailor was telling the soldier,
“you have to admire their sincerity and courage. They’ve got to do this
thing. They want only what’s their right and real men want to give it
to them.”

“But they’ve got no business using a sidewalk in front of the White
House for a bonfire,” declared the soldier. “It’s disloyal to the
President, I tell you, and if they weren’t women I’d slap their faces.”

“Listen, sonny,” said the old man, patting the soldier’s arm, “I’m as
loyal to the President as any man alive, but I’ve got to admit that he
ain’t doing the right thing towards these women. He’s forced everything
else he’s wanted through Congress, and if he wanted to give these women
the vote badly enough he could force the suffrage amendment through. If
you and I were in these women’s places, sonny, we’d act real vicious.
We’d want to come here and clean out the ,whole White House.”

“But if the President doesn’t want to push their amendment through,
it’s his right not to,” argued the soldier. “It’s nobody’s business how
he uses his power.”

“Good God!” the sailor burst out. “Why don’t you go over and get a job
shining the Kaiser’s boots?”

The women were released without bail, since no one was able to supply a
charge. But a thorough research was instituted and out of the dusty
archives some one produced an ancient statute that would serve the
purpose. It prohibits the building of fires in a public place in the
District of Columbia between sunset and sunrise. And so the beautiful
Elizabethan custom of lighting watchfires as a form of demonstration
was forbidden!

In a few days eleven women were brought to trial. There was a titter in
the court room as the prosecuting attorney read with heavy pomposity
the charge against the prisoners “to wit: That on Pennsylvania Avenue,
Northwest, in the District of Columbia they did aid and abet in setting
fire to certain combustibles consisting of logs, paper, oil, etc.,
between the setting of the sun in the said District of Columbia on the
sixth day of January and the rising of the sun in the said District of
Columbia o f the sixth day o f January, 1919, A. D.”

The court is shocked to hear of this serious deed. The prisoners are
unconcerned.

“Call the names of the prisoners,” the judge orders. The clerk calls,
“Julia Emory.”

No answer!

“Julia Emory,” he calls a second time.

Dead silence!

The clerk tries another name, a second, a third, a fourth. Always there
is silence!

In a benevolent tone, the judge asks the policeman to identify the
prisoners. They identify as many as they can. An attempt is made to
have the prisoners rise and be sworn. They sit.

“We will go on with the testimony,” says the judge.

The police testify as to the important details of the crime. They were
on Pennsylvania Avenue—they looked at their watch—they learned it was
about 5:30—they saw the ladies in the park putting wood on fires in
urns. “I threw the wood on the pavement; they kept putting it back,”
says one policeman. “Each time I tried to put out the fire they threw
on more wood,” says another. “They kept on lighting new fires, and I’d
keep putting them out,” says a third with an injured air.

The prosecuting attorney asks an important question, “Did you command
them to stop?”

Policeman—“I did sir, and I said, ‘You ladies don’t want to be arrested
do you?’ They made no answer but went on attending to their fires.”

The statute is read for the second time. Another witness is called.
This time the district attorney asks the policeman,—“Do you know what
time the sun in the District of Columbia set on January 5th and rose on
January 6th?”

At this profound question, the policeman hesitates, looks abashed, then
says impressively, “The sun in the District of Columbia set at 5
o’clock January 5th, and rose at 7:28 o’clock January 6th.”

The prosecutor is triumphant. He looks expectantly at the judge.

“How do you know what time the sun rose and set on those days?” asks
the judge.

“From the weather bureau,” answers the policeman.

The judge is perplexed.

“I think we should have something more official,” he says.

The prosecutor suggests that perhaps an almanac would settle the
question. The judge believes it would. The government attorney
disappears to find an almanac.

Breathless, the prisoners and spectators wait to hear the important
verdict of the almanac. The delay is interminable. The court room is in
a state of confusion. The prisoners, especially, are amused at the
proceedings. It is clear their fate may hang upon a minute or two of
time. An hour goes by, and still the district attorney has not
returned. Another half hour! Presently he returns to read in heavy
tones from the almanac. The policeman looks embarrassed. His
information from the weather bureau differs from that of the almanac.
His sun rose two minutes too early and continued to shine twelve
minutes too long! However, it doesn’t matter. The sun shone long enough
to make the defendants guilty.

The judge looks at the prisoners and announces that they are “guilty”
and “shall pay a fine of $5.00 or serve five days in jail.” The
Administration has learned its lesson about hunger strikes and
evidently fears having to yield to another strike. And so it seeks
safety in lighter sentences. The judge pleads almost piteously with
them not to go to jail at all, and says that he will put them on
probation if they will promise to be good and not light any more fires
in the District of Columbia. The prisoners make no promise. They have
been found guilty according to the almanac and they file through the
little gate into the prisoners’ pen.

Somehow they did not believe that whether the sun rose at 7:26 or 7:28
was the issue which had decided whether they should be convicted or
not, and it was not in protest against the almanac that they
straightway entered upon a hunger strike.

Meanwhile the watchfires continued in the capital. January thirteenth,
the day the great world Peace Conference under the President’s
leadership, began to deliberate on the task of administering “right”
and “justice” to all the oppressed of the earth, twenty-three women
were arrested in front of the White House.

Another trial! More silent prisoners! They were to be tried this time
in groups. A roar of applause from friends in the courtroom greeted the
first four as they came in. The judge said that he could not possibly
understand the motive for this outburst, and added, “If it is repeated,
I shall consider it contempt of court.” He then ordered the bailiff to
escort the four prisoners out and bring them in again.—Shades of school
days!

“And if there is any applause this time . . .”

With this threat still in the air, the prisoners reentered and the
applause was louder than before. Great Confusion! The judge roared at
the bailiff. The bailiff roared at the prisoners and their friends.

Finally they rushed to the corners of the courtroom and evicted three
young women.

“Lock the doors, and see that they do not return,” shouted the angry
judge. Thus the dignity of the court was restored. But the group idea
had to be abandoned. The prisoners were now brought in one at a time,
and one policeman after another testified that, “she kep’ alightin’ and
alightin’ fires.”

Five days’ imprisonment for each woman who “kep’ alightin’” watchfires!

On January 25th, in Paris, President Wilson received a delegation of
French working women who urged woman suffrage as one of the points to
be settled at the Peace Conf6rence. The President expressed admiration
for the women of France, and told them of his deep personal interest in
the enfranchisement of women. He was ‘honored’ and ‘touched’ by their
tribute. It was a great moment for the President. He had won the
position in the eyes of the world of a devout champion of the liberty
of women, but at the very moment he was speaking to these French women
American women were lying in the District of Columbia jail for
demanding liberty at his gates.

Mrs. Mary Nolan, the eldest suffrage prisoner, took to the watchfire
those vain words of the President to the French women. The flames were
just consuming—“All sons of freedom are under oath to see that freedom
never suffers,” when a whole squadron of police dashed up to arrest
her. There was a pause when they saw her age. They drew back for an
instant. Then one amongst them, more “dutiful” than the rest, quietly
placed her under arrest. As she marched along by his side, cheers for
her went up from all parts of the crowd.

“Say what you think about them, but that little old lady has certainly
got pluck,” they murmured.

At the bar Mrs. Nolan’s beautiful speech provoked irrepressible
applause. The judge ordered as many offenders as could be recognized
brought before him. Thirteen women were hastily produced. The trial was
suspended while the judge sentenced these thirteen to “forty-eight
hours in jail for contempt of court.”

And so, throughout January and the beginning of February, 1919, the
story of protest continued relentlessly.
Watchfires—arrests—convictions—hunger strikes—release—until again the
nation rose in protest against imprisoning the women and against the
Senate’s delay. Peremptory cables went to the President at the Peace
Conference, commanding him to act. News of our demonstrations were well
reported in the Paris press. The situation must have again seemed
serious to him, for although reluctantly and perhaps unwillingly, he
did begin to cable to Senate leaders, who in turn began to act. On
February 2d, the Democratic Suffrage Senators called a meeting at the
Capitol to “consider ways and means.” On February 3d, Senator Jones
announced in the Senate that the amendment would be-brought up for
discussion February 10th. The following evening, February 4th, a caucus
of all Democratic Senators was called together at the Capitol by
Senator Martin of Virginia, Democratic floor leader in the Senate. This
was the first Democratic caucus held in the Senate since war was
declared, which would seem to point to the anxiety of the Democrats to
marshal two votes.

Several hours of very passionate debate occurred, during which Senator
Pollock of South Carolina announced for the first time his support of
the measure.

Senator Pollock had yielded to pressure by cable from the President as
well as to the caucus. This gain of one vote had reduced the number of
votes lacking to one.

Many Democratic leaders now began to show alarm lest the last vote be
not secured. William Jennings Bryan was one leader who, rightly alarmed
over such a situation, personally consulted with the Democratic
opponents. The argument which he presented to them he subsequently gave
to the press.

“Woman suffrage is coming to the country and to the world. It will be
submitted to the states by the next Congress, if it is not submitted by
the present Congress.

“I hope the Democrats of the South will not handicap the Democrats of
the North by compelling them to spend the next twenty-five years
explaining to the women of the country why their party prevented the
submission of the suffrage amendment to the states.

“This is our last chance to play an important part in bringing about
this important reform, and it is of vital political concern that the
Democrats of the Northern Mississippi Valley should not be burdened by
the charge that our party prevented the passage of the suffrage
amendment, especially when it is known that it is coming in spite of,
if not with the aid of, the Democratic Party.”

As we grew nearer the last vote the President was meeting what was
perhaps his most bitter resistance from within. It was a situation
which he could have prevented. His own early hostility, his later
indifference and negligence, his actual protection given to Democratic
opponents of the measure, his own reversal of policy practically at the
point of a pistol, the half-hearted efforts made by him on its behalf,
were all coming to fruition at the moment when his continued prestige
was at stake. His power to get results on this because of belated
efforts was greatly weakened. This also undermined his power in other
undertakings essential to his continued prestige. Whereas more effort,
at an earlier time, would have brought fairer results, now the
opponents were solidified in their opposition, were through their votes
publicly committed to the nation as opponents, and were unwilling to
sacrifice their heavy dignity to a public reversal of their votes. This
presented a formidable resistance, indeed.

Therefore the Democratic blockade continued.

And so did the watchfires !




Chapter 22
Burned in Effigy


The suffrage score now stood as follows: One vote lacking in the
Senate, 15 days in which to win it, and President Wilson across the
sea! The Democrats set February 10 as the date on which the Senate
would again vote on the amendment, without any plan as to how the last
vote would be won.

We were powerless to secure the last vote. That was still the
President’s problem. Knowing that he always put forth more effort under
fire of protest from us than when not pressed, we decided to make as a
climax to our watchfire demonstrations a more drastic form of protest.
We wanted to show our contempt for the President’s inadequate support
which promised so much in words and which did so little in deeds to
match the words.

And so on the day preceding the vote we burned in effigy a portrait of
President Wilson even as the Revolutionary fathers had burned a
portrait of King George.[1]

[1] This is the inscription on a tablet at the State House, Dover
Green, Dover, in commemoration of Delaware’s revolutionary leaders.
    Signers of the Declaration of Independence.
    Caeser Rodney—Thomas McKain—George Read
    At the urgent request of Thomas McKain, Caesar Rodney being then in
    Delaware, rode post haste on horseback to Philadelphia and reached
    Independence Hall July 4, 1776.
    The following day news of the adoption of the Declaration of
    Independence reaching Dover a portrait of King George was burned on
    Dover Green at the order of the Committee of Safety. The following
    historic words being uttered by the chairman:
    “Compelled by strong necessity thus we destroy even the shadow of
    that king who refused to reign over a free people.”


A hundred women marched with banners to the center of the sidewalk
opposite the White House. Mingling with the party’s tri- colored
banners were two lettered ones which read:

ONLY FIFTEEN LEGISLATIVE DAYS ARE LEFT IN THIS CONGRESS.


FOR MORE THAN A YEAR THE PRESIDENT’S PARTY HAS BLOCKED SUFFRAGE IN THE
SENATE.


IT IS BLOCKING IT TODAY.


THE PRESIDENT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE BETRAYAL OF AMERICAN WOMANHOOD.


And—

WHY DOES NOT THE PRESIDENT INSURE THE PASSAGE OF SUFFRAGE IN THE SENATE
TO-MORROW?


WHY DOES HE NOT WIN FROM HIS PARTY THE ONE VOTE NEEDED?


HAS HE AGREED TO PERMIT SUFFRAGE AGAIN TO BE PUSHED ASIDE?


PRESIDENT WILSON IS DECEIVING THE WORLD.


HE PREACHES DEMOCRACY ABROAD AND THWARTS DEMOCRACY HERE.


As the marchers massed their banners, and grouped themselves about the
urn, a dense crowd of many thousand people closed in about them, a
crowd so interested that it stood almost motionless for two hours while
the ceremonies continued. The fire being kindled, and the flames
leaping into the air, Miss Sue White of Tennessee and Mrs. Gabrielle
Harris of South Carolina dropped into the fire in the urn a figure of
President Wilson sketched on paper in black and white—a sort of effigy
de luxe, we called it, but a symbol of our contempt none the less.

Mrs. Henry O. Havemeyer of New York, life-long suffragist and woman of
affairs, said as master of the ceremonies, “Every Anglo-Saxon
government in the world has enfranchised its women. In Russia, in
Hungary, in Austria, in Germany itself, the women are completely
enfranchised, and thirty-four women are now sitting in the new
Reichstag. We women of America are assembled here to-day to voice our
deep indignation that . . . American women are still deprived of a
voice in their government at home. We mean to show that the President .
. . .” She was caught by the arm, placed under arrest, and forced into
the waiting patrol wagon.

Thereupon the police fell upon the ceremonies, and indiscriminate
arrests followed. Women with banners were taken; women without banners
were taken. Women attempting to guard the fire; women standing by doing
nothing at all; all were seized upon and rushed to the patrol. While
this uproar was going on, others attempted to continue the speaking
where Mrs. Havemeyer had left it, but each was apprehended as she made
her attempt. Some that had been scheduled to speak, but were too shy to
utter a word in the excitement, were also taken. When the “Black
Marias” were all filled to capacity, nearby automobiles were
commandeered, and more patrols summoned. And still not even half the
women were captured.

The police ceased their raids suddenly. Orders to arrest no more had
evidently been given. Some one must have suggested that a hundred
additions to the already overcrowded jail and workhouse would be too
embarrassing. Perhaps the ruse of arresting some, and hoping the others
would scamper away at the sight of authority, was still in their minds.

After a brief respite they turned their attention to the fascinated
crowd. They succeeded in forcing back these masses of people half way
across Pennsylvania Avenue, and stationed an officer every two feet in
front of them. But still women came to keep the fire burning. Was there
no end of this battalion of women? The police finally declared a
“military zone” between the encircling crowd and the remaining women,
and no person was allowed to enter the proscribed area. For, another
hour, then, the women stood on guard at the urn, and as night fell, the
ceremonies ended. Sixty of them marched back to headquarters.
Thirty-nine had been arrested.

The following morning, February 10th, saw two not unrelated scenes in
the capital. Senators were gathering in their seats in the senate
chamber to answer. to the roll call on the suffrage amendment. A few
blocks away in the courthouse, thirty-nine women were being tried for
their protest of the previous day.

There was no uncertainty either in the minds of the galleries or of the
senators. Every one knew that we still lacked one vote. The debate was
confined to two speeches, one for and one against.

When the roll was called, there were voting and paired in favor of the
amendment, 63 senators; there were voting and paired against the
amendment 83 senators. The amendment lost therefore, by one vote. Of
the 63 favorable votes 62 were Republicans and 31 Democrats. Of the 33
adverse votes 12 were Republicans and 21 Democrats. This means that of
the 44 Republicans in the Senate, 32 or 73 per cent voted for the
amendment. Of the 52 Democrats in the Senate 31 or 60 per cent voted
for it. And so it was again defeated by the opposition of the
Democratic Administration, and by the failure of the President to put
behind it enough power to win.

Meanwhile another burlesque of justice dragged wearily on in the dim
courtroom. The judge was sentencing thirty-nine women to prison. When
the twenty-sixth had been reached, he said wearily, “How many more are
out there?”

When told that he had tried only two-thirds of the defendants, he
dismissed the remaining thirteen without trial!

They were as guilty as their colleagues. But the judge was tired.
Twenty-six women sent to jail is a full judicial day’s work, I suppose.

There was some rather obvious shame and unhappiness in the Senate
because of the petty thing they had done. The prisoners in the
courtroom were proud because they had done their utmost for the
principle in which they believed.

Senator Jones of New Mexico, Chairman of the Committee, and his
Democratic colleagues refused to reintroduce the Susan B. Anthony
amendment in the Senate immediately after this defeat. But on Monday,
February 17, Senator Jones of Washington, ranking Republican on the
Suffrage Committee, obtained unanimous consent and reintroduced it,
thereby placing it once more on its way to early reconsideration.




Chapter 23
Boston Militants Welcome the President


It was announced that the President would return to America on February
24th. That would leave seven days in which he could act before the
session ended on March 3d. We determined to make another dramatic
effort to move him further.

Boston was to be the President’s landing place. Boston, where ancient
liberties are so venerated, and modern ones so abridged. No more
admirable place could have been found to welcome the President home in
true militant fashion.

Wishing the whole world to know that women were greeting President
Wilson, why they were greeting him, and what form of demonstration the
greetings would assume, we announced our plans in advance. Upon his
arrival a line of pickets would hold banners silently calling to the
President’s attention the demand for his effective aid. In the
afternoon they would hold a meeting in Boston Common and there burn the
parts of the President’s Boston speech which should pertain to
democracy and liberty. These announcements were met with official alarm
of almost unbelievable extent. Whereas front pages had been given over
heretofore to publishing the elaborate plans for the welcome to be
extended to the President, eulogies of the President, and recitals of
his great triumph abroad, now the large proportion of this space was
devoted to clever plans of the police to outwit the suffragists. The
sustained publicity of this demonstration was unprecedented. It
actually filled the Boston papers for all of two weeks.

A “deadline,” a diagram of which appeared in the press, was to be
established beyond which no suffragist, no matter how enterprising,
could penetrate to harass the over-worked President with foolish ideas
about the importance of liberty for women. Had not this great man the
cares of the world on his shoulders? This was no time to talk about
liberty for women! The world was rocking and a great peace conference
was sitting, and the President was just returning to report on the work
done so far. The Boston descendants of the early revolutionists would
do their utmost to see that no untoward event should mar the perfection
of their plans. They would see to it that the sacred soil of the old
Boston Common should not be disgraced.

It was a perfect day. Lines of marines whose trappings shone
brilliantly in the clear sunshine were in formation to hold back the
crowds from the Reviewing stand where the President should appear after
heading the procession in his honor. It seemed as if all Boston were on
hand for the welcome. A slender file of twenty-two women marched
silently into the sunshine, slipped through the “deadline,” and made
its way to the base‘ of the Reviewing stand. There it unfurled its
beautiful banners and took up its post directly facing the line of
marines which was supposed to keep all suffragists at bay. Quite calmly
and yet triumphantly, they stood there, a pageant of beauty and defiant
appeal, which not even the most hurried passerby could fail to see and
comprehend.

There were consultations by the officials in charge of the ceremonies.
The women looked harmless enough, but had they not been told that they
must not come there? They were causing no riot, in fact they were
clearly adding much beauty—people seemed to take them as part of the
elaborate ceremony—but officials seldom have sense of humor enough or
adaptability enough to change quickly, especially when they have made
threats. It would be a taint on their honor, if they did not “pick up”
the women for the deed.

One could hear the people reading slowly the large lettered banner:

MR. PRESIDENT, YOU SAID IN THE SENATE ON SEPTEMBER 20 “WE SHALL NOT
ONLY BE DISTRUSTED BUT WE SHALL DESERVE TO BE DISTRUSTED IF WE DO NOT
ENFRANCHISE WOMEN.” YOU ALONE CAN REMOVE THIS DISTRUST NOW BY SECURING
THE ONE VOTE NEEDED TO PASS THE SUFFRAGE AMENDMENT BEFORE MARCH 4.


The American flag carried by Miss Katherine Morey of Brookline held the
place of honor at the head of the line and there were the familiar,
“Mr. President, how long must women wait for liberty?” and “Mr.
President, what will you do for woman suffrage?” The other banners were
simply purple, white and gold.

“When we had stood there about three quarters of an hour,” said
Katherine Morey, “Superintendent Crowley came to me and said, ‘We want
to be as nice as we can to you suffragette ladies, but you cannot stand
here while the President goes by, so you might as well go back now.’ I
said I was sorry, but as we had come simply to be there at that very
time, we would not be able to go back until the President had gone by.
He thereupon made a final appeal to Miss Paul, who was at headquarters,
but she only repeated our statement. The patrol wagons were hurried to
the scene and the arrests were executed in an exceedingly gentlemanly
manner. But the effect on the crowd was electric. The sight of ‘ladies’
being put into patrols, seemed to thrill the Boston masses as nothing
the President subsequently said was able to.

“We were taken to the House of Detention and there charged with
‘loitering more than seven minutes’.”


As Mrs. Agnes H. Morey, Massachusetts Chairman of the Woman’s Party,
later remarked:

“It is a most extraordinary thing. Thousands loitered from curiosity on
the day the President arrived. Twenty-two loitered for liberty, and
only those who loitered for liberty were arrested.”

Realizing that the event of the morning had diverted public attention
to our issue, and undismayed by the arrests, other women entered the
lists to sustain public attention upon our demand to the President.

The ceremony on the Common began at three o’clock. Throngs of people
packed in closely in an effort to hear the speakers, and to catch a
glimpse of the ceremony, presided over by Mrs. Louise Sykes of
Cambridge, whose late husband was President of the Connecticut College
for Women. From three o’clock until six, women explained the purpose of
the protest, the status of the amendment, and urged those present to
help. At six o’clock came the order to arrest. Mrs. C. C. Jack, wife of
Professor Jack of Harvard University, Mrs. Mortimer Warren of Boston,
whose husband was head of a base hospital in France, and Miss Elsie
Hill, daughter of the late Congressman Hill, were arrested and were
taken to the House of Detention, where they joined their comrades.

“Dirty, filthy hole under the Court House,” was the general
characterization of the House of Detention. “Jail was a Paradise
compared to this depraved place,” said Miss Morey. “We slept in our
clothes, four women to a cell, on iron shelves two feet wide. In the
cell was an open toilet. The place slowly filled up during the night
with drunks and disorderlies until pandemonium reigned. In the evening,
Superintendent Crowley and Commissioner Curtis came to call on us. I
don’t believe they had ever been there before, and they were painfully
embarrassed. Superintendent Crowley said to me, “If you were drunk we
could release you in the morning, but unfortunately since you are not
we have got to take you into court.”

When the prisoners were told next morning the decision of Chief Justice
Bolster to try each prisoner separately and in closed court, they all
protested against such proceedings. But guards took the women by force
to a private room. “The Matron, who was terrified,” said Miss Morey,
“shouted to the guards, ‘You don’t handle the drunks that way. You know
you don’t.’ But they continued to push, shove and shake the women while
forcing them to the ante room.”

“As an American citizen under arrest, I demand a public trial,” was the
statement of each on entering the judge’s private trial room.

While the trial was proceeding without the women’s cooperation,—some
were tried under wrong names, some were tried more than once under
different names, but most of them under the name of Jane Doe—vigorous
protests were being made to all the city officials by individuals among
the throngs who had come to the court house to attend the trial. This
protest was so strong that the last three women were tried in open
court. The judge sentenced everybody impartially to eight days in j ail
in lieu of fines, with the exception of Miss Wilma Henderson, who was
released when it was learned that she was a minor.

The women were taken to the Charles Street Jail to serve their
sentences. “The cells were immaculately clean,” said Miss Morey, “but
there was one feature of this experience which obliterated all its
advantages. The cells were without modern toilet facilities. The toilet
equipment consisted of a heavy wooden bucket, about two and a half feet
high and a foot and a half in diameter, half filled with water. No one
of us will ever forget that foul bucket. It had to be carried to the
lower floor—we were on the third and fourth floors—every morning. I
could hardly lift mine off the floor, to say nothing of getting it down
stairs (Miss Morey weighs 98 pounds), so there it stayed. Berry Pottier
managed to get hers down, but was so exhausted she was utterly unable
to get it back to her cell.

“The other toilet facility provided was a smaller bucket of water to
wash in, but it was of such a strangely unpleasant odor that we did not
dare use it.”

The Boston reporters were admitted freely—and they wrote columns of
copy. There was the customary ridicule, but there were friendly light
touches such as, “Militant Highlights—To be roommates at Vassar College
and then to meet again as cellmates was the experience of Miss Elsie
Hill and Mrs. Lois Warren Shaw.” . . . “Superintendent Kelleher didn’t
know when he was in Congress with Elsie Hill’s father he would some day
have Congressman Hill’s daughter in his jail.”

And there were friendly serious touches in these pages of sensational
news—such as this excerpt from the front page of the Boston Traveler of
February 25, 1919. “The reporter admired the spirit of the women.
Though weary from loss of sleep, the fire of a great purpose burned in
their eyes . . . .

“It was a sublime forgetting of self for the goal ahead, and whether
the reader is in sympathy with the principle for which these women are
ready to suffer or not, he will be forced to admire the spirit which
leads them on.”

Photographs of the women were printed day by day—giving their
occupations, if any, noting their revolutionary ancestors, ascertaining
the attitude of husbands and fathers. Mrs. Shaw’s husband’s telegram
was typical of the support the women got. “Don’t be quitters,” he
wired, “I have competent nurses to look after the children.” Mr. Shaw
is a Harvard graduate and a successful manufacturer in Manchester, New
Hampshire.

Telegrams of protest from all over the country poured in upon all the
Boston officials who had had any point of contact with the militants.
All other work was for the moment suspended. Such is the quality of
Mrs. Morey’s organizing genius that she did not let a solitary official
escape. Telegrams also went from Boston, and especially from the jail,
to President Wilson.

Official Boston was in the grip of this militant invasion when suddenly
a man of mystery, one E. J. Howe, appeared and paid the women’s fines.
It was later discovered that the mysterious E. J. Howe alleged to have
acted for a “client.” Whether the “client” was a part of Official
Boston, no one ever knew. There were rumors that the city wished to end
its embarrassment.

Sedate Boston had been profoundly shaken. Sedate Boston gave more
generously than ever before to militant finances. And when the “Prison
Special” arrived a few days later a Boston theatre was filled to
overflowing with a crowd eager to hear more about their local heroines,
and to cheer them while they were decorated with the already famous
prison pin.

Something happened in Washington, too, after the President’s safe
journey thither from Boston.




Chapter 24
Democratic Congress Ends


It would be folly to say that President Wilson was not at this time
aware of a very damning situation.

The unanswerable “Prison Special”—a special car of women prisoners—was
touring the country from coast to coast to keep the public attention,
during the closing days of the session, fixed upon the suffrage
situation in the Senate. The prisoners were addressing enormous
meetings and arousing thousands, especially in the South, to articulate
condemnation of Administration tactics. It is impossible to calculate
the number of cables which, as a result of this sensational tour,
reached the President during his deliberations at the Peace Table. The
messages of protest which did not reach the President at the Peace
Conference were waiting for him on his desk at the White House.

Even if some conservative Boston suffragists did present him with a
beautiful bouquet of jonquils tied with a yellow ribbon, as their
welcome home, will any one venture to say that that token of trust was
potent enough to wipe from his consciousness the other welcome which
led his welcomers to jail? Will any one contend that President Wilson
upon his arrival in Washington, and after changing his clothes, piously
remarked:

“By the way, Tumulty, I want to show you some jonquils tied with a
yellow ribbon that were presented to me in Boston. I am moved, I think
I may say deeply moved by this sincere tribute, to do something this
morning for woman suffrage. Just what is the state of affairs? And does
there seem to be any great demand for it?” We do not know what, if
anything, he did say to Secretary Tumulty, but we know what he did. He
hurried over to the Capitol, and there made his first official business
a conference with Senator Jones of New Mexico, Chairman of the Senate
Suffrage Committee. After expressing chagrin over the failure of the
measure in the Senate, the President discussed ways and means of
getting it through.

An immediate result of the conference was the introduction in the
Senate, February 28th, by Senator Jones, of another resolution on
suffrage. Senator Jones had refused to reintroduce the original
suffrage resolution immediately after the Senate defeat, February 10th.
Now he came forward with this one, a little differently worded, but to
the same purpose as the original amendment.[1]

[1] This amendment, although to the same purpose as the original
amendment, was not as satisfactory because of possible controversial
points in the enforcement article. The original amendment is of course
crystal clear in this regard.


This resolution was a concession to Senator Gay of Louisiana, Democrat,
who had voted against the measure on February 10th, but who immediately
pledged his vote in favor of the new resolution. Thus the sixty-fourth
and last vote was won. The majority instantly directed its efforts
toward getting a vote on the new resolution.

On March 1st Senator Jones attempted to get unanimous consent to
consider it. Senator Wadsworth, of New York, Republican anti-
suffragist, objected. When consent was again asked, the following day,
Senator Weeks of Massachusetts, Republican anti-suffragist, objected.
On the last day of the session, Senator Sherman of Illinois, Republican
suffragist, objected. And so the Democratic Congress ended without
passing the amendment.

On the face of it, these parliamentary objections from Republicans
prevented action, when the Democrats had finally secured the necessary
votes. As a matter of fact, however, the President and his party were
responsible for subjecting the amendment to the tactical obstruction of
individual anti-suffrage Senators. They waited until the last three
days to make the supreme effort. That the President did finally get the
last vote even at a moment when parliamentary difficulties prevented it
from being voted upon, proved our contention that he could pass the
amendment at any time he set himself resolutely to it. This last
ineffective effort also proved how hard the President had been pushed
by our tactics.

But it seems to me that President Wilson has a pathetic aptitude for
acting a little too late. The fact that the majority of the Southern
contingent in his party stood stubbornly against him on woman suffrage,
was of course a real obstacle. But we contended that the business of a
statesman who declared himself to be a friend of a measure was to
remove even real obstacles to the success of that measure. Perhaps our
standard was too high. It must be confessed that people in general are
distressingly patient, easily content with pronouncements, and
shockingly inert about seeing to it that political leaders act as they
speak.

We had seen the President overcome far greater obstacles than stood in
his way on this issue. We had seen him lead a country which had voted
to stay out of the European war into battle almost immediately after
they had so voted. We had seen him conscript the men of the same
stubborn South, which had been conspicuously opposed to conscription.
We had seen him win mothers to his war point of view after they had
fought passionately for him and his peace program at election time. He
had taken pains to lead men and women influential and obscure—to his
way of thinking. I do not condemn him—I respect him for being able to
do this. The point is that he dirt overcome obstacles when his heart
and head were set to the task.

Since our problem was neither in his head nor his heart, it was our
task to put it there. Having got it there, it was our - responsibility
to see that it churned and churned there, until he had to act. We did
our utmost.

For six full years, through three Congresses under President Wilson’s
power, the continual Democratic resistance, meandering, delays, deceits
had left us still disfranchised. A world war had come and gone during
this span of effort. Vast millions had died in pursuit of liberty. A
Czar and a Kaiser had been deposed. The Russian people had
revolutionized their whole social and economic system. And here in the
United States of America we couldn’t even wrest from the leader of
democracy and his poor miserable associates the first step toward our
political liberty—the passage of an amendment through Congress,
submitting the question of democracy to the states!

What a magnificent thing it was for those women to rebel! Their
solitary steadfastness to their objective stands out in this world of
confused ideals and half hearted actions, clear and lonely and superb!




Chapter 25
A Farewell to President Wilson


The Republican Congress elected in November, 1918, would not sit until
December, 1919—such is our unfortunate system—unless called together by
the President in a special session. We had polled the new Congress by
personal interviews and by post, and found a safe two-thirds majority
for the amendment in the House. In the new Senate we still lacked a
fateful one vote.

Our task was, therefore, to induce the President to call a special
session of Congress at the earliest possible moment, and to see that he
did not relax his efforts toward the last vote.

“He won’t do it!” . . .”President Wilson will never let the Republican
Congress come together until the regular time.” . . . “Especially with
himself in Europe!” The usual points of objection were raised. But we
persisted. We felt that the President could win this last vote. And the
fear that a Republican Congress might, if he did not, was an
accelerating factor.

One feature of the campaign to force a special session was a
demonstration in New York, on the eve of President Wilson’s return to
Europe, at the time he addressed a mass meeting in the Metropolitan
Opera House on behalf of his proposed League of Nations. The plan of
demonstration was to hold outside of the Opera House banners addressed
to President Wilson, and to consign his speech to the flames of a torch
at a public meeting nearby.

It was a clear starry night in March when the picket line of 26 women
proceeded with tri-colored banners from New York headquarters in
Forty-first street to the Opera House. As we neared the corner of the
street opposite the Opera House and before we could cross the street a
veritable battalion of policemen in close formation rushed us with
unbelievable ferocity. Not a word was spoken by a single officer of the
two hundred policemen in the attack to indicate the nature of our
offense. Clubs were raised and lowered and the women beaten back with
such cruelty as none of us had ever witnessed before.

The women clung to their heavy banner poles, trying to keep the banners
above the maelstrom. But the police seized them, tore the pennants,
broke the poles, some of them over our backs, trampled them underfoot,
pounded us, dragged us, and in every way behaved like frantic beasts.
It would have been so simple quietly to detain our little handful until
after the President’s speech, if that seemed necessary. But to launch
this violent attack under the circumstances was madness. Not a
pedestrian had paid any except friendly attention to the slender file
of women. But the moment this happened an enormous crowd gathered, made
up mostly of soldiers and sailors, many of whom had just returned from
abroad and were temporarily thronging the streets of New York. They
joined forces with the police in the attack.

Miss Margaretta Schuyler, a beautiful, fragile young girl, was holding
fast a silken American flag which she had carried at the head of the
procession when a uniformed soldier jumped upon her, twisted her arms
until she cried in pain, cursed, struggled until he had torn her flag
from its pole, and then broke the pole across her head, exulting in his
triumph over his frailer victim.

When I appealed to the policeman, who was at the moment occupied solely
with pounding me on the back, to intercept the soldier in his cruel
attack, his only reply was: “Oh, he’s helping me.” He thereupon resumed
his beating of me and I cried, “Shame, shame! Aren’t you ashamed to
beat American women in this brutal way?” I offered no other resistance.
“If we are breaking any law, arrest us! Don’t beat us in this cowardly
fashion!”

“We’ll rush you like bulls,” was his vulgar answer, “we’ve only just
begun.”

Another young woman, an aviatrice, was seized by the coat collar and
thrown to the pavement for trying to keep hold of her banner. Her fur
cap was the only thing that saved her skull from serious injury. As it
was, she was trampled under foot and her face severely cut before we
could rescue her with the assistance of a sympathetic member of the
crowd. The sympathetic person was promptly attacked by the policeman
for helping his victim to her feet. There were many shouts of
disapproval of the police conduct and many cheers for the women from
the dense crowd.

By this time the crowd had massed itself so thickly that we could
hardly move an inch. It was perfectly apparent that we could neither
make our way to the Opera House nor could we extricate ourselves. But
the terrors continued. Women were knocked down and trampled under foot,
some of them almost unconscious, others bleeding from the hands and
face; arms were bruised and twisted; pocketbooks were snatched and
wrist-watches stolen.

When it looked as if the suffocating melee would result in the death or
permanent injury to some of us, I was at last dragged by a policeman to
the edge of the crowd. Although I offered not the slightest resistance,
I was crushed continuously in the arm by the officer who walked me to
the police station, and kept muttering: “You’re a bunch of
cannibals,—cannibals,—Bolsheviks.”

Upon arriving at the police station I was happily relieved to find eve
of my comrades already there. We were all impartially cursed at; told
to stand up; told to sit down; forbidden to speak to one another;
forbidden even to smile at one another. One by one we were called to
the desk to give our name, age, and various other pieces of
information. We stood perfectly silent before the station lieutenant as
he coaxingly said, “You’d better tell.”—“You’d better give us your
name.”—“You’d better tell us where you live—it will make things easier
for you.” But we continued our silence.

Disorderly conduct, interfering with the police, assaulting the police
(Shades of Heaven! assaulting the police!), were the charges entered
against us.

We were all locked in separate cells and told that we would be taken to
the Woman’s Night Court for immediate trial.

While pondering on what was happening to our comrades and wondering if
they, too, would be arrested, or if they would just be beaten up by the
police and mob, a large, fat jail matron came up and began to deliver a
speech, which, ran something like this:

“Now, shure and you ladies must know that this is goin’ a bit too far.
Now, I’m for suffrage alright, and I believe women ought to vote, but
why do you keep botherin’ the President? Don’t you know he has got
enough to think about with the League of Nations, the Peace Conference
and fixin’ up the whole world on his mind?”

In about half an hour we were taken from our cells and brought before
the Lieutenant, who now announced, “Well, you ladies may go now,—I have
just received a telephone order to release you.”

We accepted the news and jubilantly left the station house, returning
at once to our comrades. There the battle was still going on, and as we
joined them we were again dragged and cuffed about the streets by the
police and their aids, but there were no more arrests. Elsie Hill
succeeded in speaking from a balcony above the heads of the crowd:

“Did you men turn back when you saw the Germans coming? What would you
have thought of any one who did? Did you expect us to turn back? We
never turn back, either—and we won’t until democracy is won! Who rolled
bandages for you when you were suffering abroad? Who bound your wounds
in your fight for democracy? Who spent long hours of the night and the
day knitting you warm garments? There are women here to-night
attempting to hold banners to remind the President that democracy is
not won at home; who have given their sons and husbands for your fight
abroad. What would they say if they could see you, their comrades in
the fight over there, attacking their mothers, their sisters, their
wives over here? Aren’t you ashamed that you have not enough sporting
blood to allow us to make our fight in our own way? Aren’t you ashamed
that you accepted the help of women in your fight, and now to-night
brutally attack them?”

And they did listen until the police, in formation—looking now like
wooden toys—advanced from both sides of the street and succeeded in
entirely cutting off the crowd from Miss Hill.

The meeting thus broken up, we abandoned a further attempt that night.
As our little, bannerless procession filed slowly back to headquarters,
hoodlums followed us. The police of course gave us no protection and
just as we were entering the door of our own building a rowdy struck me
on the side of the head with a heavy banner pole. The blow knocked me
senseless against the stone building; my hat was snatched from my head,
and burned in the street. We entered the building to find that soldiers
and sailors had been periodically rushing it in our absence, dragging
out bundles of our banners, amounting to many hundreds of dollars, and
burning them in the street, without any protest from the police.

One does not undergo such an experience without arriving at some
inescapable truths, a discussion of which would interest me deeply but
which would be irrelevant in this narrative.

“Two hundred maddened women try to see the President” . . . “Two
hundred women attack the police,” and similar false headlines, appeared
the next morning in the New York papers. It hurt to have the world
think that we had attacked the police. That was a slight matter,
however, for that morning at breakfast, aboard the George Washington,
the President also read the New York papers. He saw that we were not
submitting in silence to his inaction. It seems reasonable to assume
that on sailing down the harbor that morning past the Statue of Liberty
the President had some trouble to banish from his mind the report that
“two hundred maddened women” had tried to “make the Opera House last
night.”




Chapter 26
President Wilson Wins the 64th Vote in Paris


The “Prison Special,” which was nearing the end of its dramatic tour,
was arousing the people to call for a special session of Congress, as
the President sailed away.

Although a Republican Congress had been elected, President Wilson, as
the head of the Administration, was still responsible for initiating
and guiding legislation. We had to see to it that, with his Congress
out of ,power, he did not relax his efforts on behalf of the amendment.

There was this situation which we were able to use to our advantage.
Two new Democratic Senators, Senator Harrison of Mississippi and
Senator Harris of Georgia, had been elected to sit in the incoming
Congress through the President’s influence. He, therefore, had very
specific power over these two men, who were neither committed against
suffrage by previous votes nor were they yet won to the amendment.

We immediately set ourselves to the task of getting the President to
win one of these men. From the election of these two men in the autumn
to early spring, constant pressure was put upon the President to this
end. When we could see no activity on the part of the President to
secure the support of one of them, we again threatened publicly to
resume dramatic protests against him. We kept the idea abroad that he
was still responsible, and that we would continue to hold him so, until
the amendment was passed.

Such a situation gave friends of the Administration considerable alarm.
They realized that the slightest attack on the President at that moment
would jeopardize his many other endeavors. And so these friends of the
President undertook to acquaint him with the facts.

Senator Harris was happily in Europe at the time. A most anxious cable,
signed by politicians in his own party, was sent to the President in
Paris explaining the serious situation and urging him to do his utmost
to secure the vote of the Senator at once.

Senator Harris was in Italy when he received an unexpected telegram
asking him to come to Paris. He journeyed with all speed to the
President, perhaps even thinking that he was about to be dispatched to
some foreign post, to learn that the conference was for the purpose of
securing his vote on the national suffrage amendment.

Senator Harris there and then gave his vote, the 64th vote.

On that day the passage by Congress of the original Susan B. Anthony
amendment was assured.

Instantly a cable was received at the White House carrying news to the
suffragists of the final capture of the elusive last vote. Following
immediately on the heels of this cable came another cable calling the
new Congress into special session May 19th.

In the light of the President’s gradual yielding and final surrender to
our demand, it will not be out of place to summarize briefly just what
happened.

President Wilson began his career as President of the United States an
anti-suffragist. He was opposed to suffrage for women both by principle
and political expediency. Sometimes I think he regarded suffragists as
a kind of sect-good women, no doubt, but tiresome and troublesome.
Whether he has yet come to see the suffrage battle as part of a great
movement embracing the world is still a question. It is not an
important question, for in any case it was not inward conviction but
political necessity that made him act.

Believing then that suffragists were a sect, he said many things to
them at first with no particular care as to the bearing of these things
upon political theory or events. He offered, successively,
“consideration,” an “open mind,” a “closed mind,” and “age-long
conviction deeply matured,” party limitations, party concert of action,
and what not. He saw in suffrage the “tide rising to meet the moon,”
but waited and advised us to wait with him. But we did not want to
wait, and we proceeded to try to make it impossible for him to wait,
either. We determined to make action upon this issue politically
expedient for him.

When the President began to perceive the potential political power of
women voters, he first declared, as a “private citizen,” that suffrage
was all right for the women of his home state, New Jersey, but that it
was altogether wrong to ask him as President to assist in bringing it
about for all the women of the nation. He also interested himself in
writing the suffrage plank in the Democratic Party’s national platform,
specifically relegating action on suffrage to the states. Then he
calmly announced that he could not act nationally, “even if I wanted
to,” because the platform had spoken otherwise.

The controversy was lengthened. The President’s conspicuous ability for
sitting still and doing nothing on a controversial issue until both
sides have exhausted their ammunition was never better illustrated than
in this matter. He allowed the controversy to continue to the point of
intellectual sterility. He buttressed his delays with more evasions,
until finally the women intensified their demand for action. They
picketed his official gates. But the President still recoiled from
action. So mightily did he recoil from it that he was willing to
imprison women for demanding it.

It is not extraordinary to resent being called upon to act, for it is
only the exceptional person who springs to action, even when action is
admitted to be desirable and necessary. And the President is not
exceptional. He is surprisingly ordinary.

While the women languished in prison, he fell back upon words—beautiful
words, too—expressions of friendliness, good wishes, hopes, and
may-I-nots. In this, too, he was acting like an ordinary human being,
not like the statesman he was reputed to be. He had habituated himself
to a belief in the power of words, and every time he uttered them to us
he seemed to refortify himself in his belief in their power.

It was the women, not the President, who were exceptional. They refused
to accept words. They persisted in demanding acts. Step by step under
terrific gunfire the President’s resistance crumbled, and he yielded,
one by one, every minor facility to the measure, always withholding
from us, however, the main objective. Not until he had exhausted all
minor facilities, and all possible evasions, did he publicly declare
that the amendment should pass the House, and put it through. When he
had done that we rested from the attack momentarily, in order to let
him consummate with grace, and not under fire, the passage of the
amendment in the Senate. He rested altogether. We were therefore
compelled to renew the attack. He countered at first with more words.
But his reliance upon them was perceptibly shaken when we burned them
in public bonfires. He then moved feebly but with a growing concern
toward getting additional votes in the Senate. And when, as an
inevitable result of his policy—and ours—the political embarrassment
became too acute, calling into question his honor and prestige, he
covertly began to consult his colleagues. We pushed him the harder. He
moved the faster toward concrete endeavor. He actually undertook to win
the final votes in the Senate.

There he found, however, that quite an alarming situation had
developed—a situation which he Should have anticipated, but for which
he was totally unprepared. Opposition in his own party had been growing
more and more rigid and cynical. His own opposition to the amendment,
his grant of immunity to those leaders in his party who had fought the
measure, his isolating himself from those who might have helped—all
this was coming to fruition among his subordinates at a time when he
could least afford to be beaten on anything. What would have been a
fairly easy race to win, if he had begun running at the pistol shot,
had now become most difficult.

Perceiving that he had now not only to move himself, but also to
overcome the obstacle which he had allowed to develop, we increased the
energy of our attack. And finally the President made a supreme
assertion of his power, and secured the last and 64th vote in the
Senate. He did this too late to get the advantage—if any advantage is
to be gained from granting a just thing at the point of a gun—for this
last vote arrived only in time for a Republican Congress to use it.

It seems to me that Woodrow Wilson was neither devil nor God in his
manner of meeting the demand of the suffragists. There has persisted an
astounding myth that he is an extraordinary man. Our experience proved
the contrary. He behaved toward us like a very ordinary politician.
Unnecessarily cruel or weakly tolerant, according as you view the
justice of our fight, but a politician, not a statesman. He did not go
out to meet the tide which he himself perceived was “rising to meet the
moon” That would have been statesmanship. He let it all but engulf him
before he acted. And even as a politician he failed, for his tactics
resulted in the passage of the amendment by a Republican Congress.




Chapter 27
Republican Congress Passes Amendment


The Republican Congress convened in Special Session May 19.

Instantly Republican leaders in control of the 66th Congress caucused
and organized for a prompt passage of the amendment. May 21st the
Republican House of Representatives passed the measure by a vote of 304
to 89—the first thing of any importance done by the new House. This was
42 votes above the required two-thirds majority, whereas the vote in
the House in January, 1918, under Democratic control had given the
measure only one vote more than was required.

Immediately the Democratic National Committee passed a resolution
calling on the legislatures of the various states to hold special
legislative sessions where necessary, to ratify the amendment as soon
as it was through Congress, in order to “enable women to vote in the
national elections of 1920.”

When the 64th vote was assured two more Republican Senators announced
their support, Senator Keyes of New Hampshire and Senator Hale of
Maine, and on June 4th the measure passed the Senate by a vote of 66 to
30,—2 votes more than needed.[1] Of the 49 Republicans in the Senate,
40 voted for the amendment, 9 against. Of the 47 Democrats in the
Senate, 26 voted for it and 21 against.

[1] These figures include all voting and paired.


And so the assertion that “the right of citizens of the United States
to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any
state on account of sex,” introduced into Congress by the efforts of
Susan B. Anthony in 1878, was finally submitted to the states for
ratification[1] on June 4th, 1919.

[1] When a constitutional amendment has passed Congress it must be
ratified by a majority vote of 36 state legislatures and thereupon
proclaimed operative by the Secretary of State of the United States
before it becomes the law of the land. For ratification data see
Appendix 1.


I do not need to explain that the amendment was not won from the
Republican Congress between May 19th and June 4th, 1919. The Republican
Party had been gradually coming to appreciate this opportunity
throughout our entire national agitation from 1913 to date. And our
attack upon the party in power, which happened to be President Wilson’s
party, had been the most decisive factor in stimulating the opposition
party to espouse our side. It is perhaps fortunate for the Republican
Party that it was their political opponents who inherited this lively
question in 1913. However, the political advantage is theirs for having
promptly and ungrudgingly passed the amendment the moment they came
into power. But it will not be surprising to any one who has read this
book that I conclude by pointing out that the real triumph belongs to
the women.

Our objective was the national enfranchisement of women. A tiny step,
you may say. True! But so long as we know that this is but the first
step in the long struggle of women for political, economic and social
emancipation, we need not be disturbed. If political institutions as we
know them to-day in their discredited condition break down, and another
kind of organization—perhaps industrial—supplants them, women will
battle for their place in the new system with as much determination as
they have shown in the struggle just ended.

That women have been aroused never again to be content with their
subjection there can be no doubt. That they will ultimately secure for
themselves equal power and responsibility in whatever system of
government is evolved is positive. How revolutionary will be the
changes when women get this power and responsibility no one can
adequately foretell. One thing is certain. They will not go back. They
will never again be good and willing slaves.

It has been a long, wearying struggle. Although drudgery has persisted
throughout, there have been compensatory moments of great joy and
beauty. The relief that comes after a great achievement is sweet. There
is no residue of bitterness. To be sure, women have often resented it
deeply that so much human energy had to be expended for so simple a
right. But whatever disillusionments they have experienced, they have
kept their faith in women. And the winning of political power by women
will have enormously elevated their status.




Appendices


APPENDIX 1

TEXT OF THE NATIONAL SUFFRAGE AMENDMENT


Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States
extending the right of suffrage to women.

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United
States o f America in Congress assembled (twothirds of each House
concurring therein), That the following articles be proposed to the
legislatures of the several States as an amendment to the Constitution
of the United States, which when ratified by three- fourths of the said
legislatures, shall be valid as part of said Constitution, namely:

“ARTICLE—SEC. 1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote
shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on
account of sex.

“SEC. 2. Congress shall have power, by appropriate legislation, to
enforce the provisions of this article.”

RECORD OF ACTION ON NATIONAL SUFFRAGE AMENDMENT


In Congress

Drafted

By Susan B. Anthony in 1875

First Introduced

January 10, 1878, by Hon. A. A. Sargent, in the Senate

Reported from Committee

In the Senate 1878, Adverse majority. 1879, Favorable minority. 1882,
Favorable majority, adverse minority. 1884, Favorable majority, adverse
minority. 1886, Favorable majority. 1890, Favorable majority. 1892,
Favorable majority, adverse minority. 1896, Adverse majority. 1913,
Favorable majority. 1914, Favorable majority. 1917, Favorable majority.
1919, Unanimously favorably.

In the House 1883, Favorable majority. 1884, Adverse majority,
favorable minority. 1886, Favorable minority. 1890, Favorable majority.
1894, Adverse majority. 1914, Without recommendation. 1916, Without
recommendation. 1917, Without recommendation. 1918, Favorable majority.
1919, Favorable majority.

Voted Upon

In the Senate January 25, 1887. Yeas 16, nays 94. Absent 25 (of whom 4
were announced as for and 2 against). March 19, 1914. Yeas 35, nays 34,
failing by 11 of the necessary two thirds vote. October 1, 1918. Yeas
54, nays 30, failing by 2 of the two-thirds vote. February 10, 1919.
Yeas 55, nays 29, failing by 1 of the necessary two-thirds vote. June
4, 1919. Yeas 56, nays 25, passing by 2 votes over necessary two-thirds
majority.

In the House January 12, 1915. Yeas 174, nays 204, failing by 78 of the
necessary two-thirds vote. January 10, 1918. Yeas 274, nays 136,
passing by 1 vote over necessary two-thirds majority. May 21, 1919.
Yeas 304, nays 89, passing by 42 votes over necessary two-thirds
majority

State; Date of Ratification; Vote: Senate, House; Party of Governor;
Party Controlling Legislature

1 Wisconsin June 10, 1919 24—1 54—2 Rep. Rep.
2 *Michigan June 10, 1919 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
3 *Kansas June 16, 1919 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
4 *Ohio June 16, 1919 27—3 73—6 Dem. Rep.
5 *New York June 16, 1919 Unan. Unan. Dem. Rep.
6 Illinois June 17, 1919 Unan. 133—4 Rep. Rep.
7 Pennsylvania June 24, 1919 32—6 153—44 Rep. Rep.
8 Massachusetts June 25, 1919 34—5 184—77 Rep. Rep.
9 *Texas June 29, 1919 Unan. 96—21 Dem. Dem.
10 *Iowa July 2, 1919 Unan. 95—5 Rep. Rep.
11 *Missouri July 3, 1919 28—3 125—4 Dem. Div’d.
12 *Arkansas July 20, 1919 20—2 76—17 Dem. Dem.
13 *Montana July 30, 1919 38—1 Unan. Dem. Rep.
14 *Nebraska Aug. 2, 1919 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
15 *Minnesota Sept. 8, 1919 60—5 120—6 Rep. Rep.
16 *New Hampshire Sept. 10, 1919 14—10 212—143 Rep. Rep.
17 *Utah Sept. 30, 1919 Unan. Unan. Dem. Dem.
18 *California Nov. 1, 1919 Unan. 73—2 Rep. Rep.
19 *Maine Nov. 5, 1919. 24—5 72—68 Rep. Rep.
20 *North Dakota Dec. 1, 1919 38—4 103—6 Rep. Rep.
21 *South Dakota Dec. 4, 1919 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
22 *Colorado Dec. 12, 1919 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
23 Rhode Island Jan. 6, 1920 37—1 89—3 Rep. Rep.
24 Kentucky Jan. 6, 1920 30—8 72—25 Rep. Div’d.
25 *Oregon Jan. 12, 1920 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
26 *Indiana Jan. 16, 1920 43—3 Unan. Rep. Rep.
27 *Wyoming Jan. 27, 1920 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
28 *Nevada Feb. 7, 1920 Unan. Unan. Dem. Div’d.
29 New Jersey Feb. 10, 1920 18—2 34—24 Dem, Rep.
30 *Idaho Feb. 11, 1920 29—6 Unan. Rep. Rep.
31 *Arizona Feb. 12, 1920 Unan. Unan. Rep. Dem.
32 *New Mexico Feb. 19, 1920 17—5 36—10 Rep. Rep.
33 *Oklahoma Feb. 27, 1920 24—15 84—12 Dem. Dem.
34 *West Virginia Mar. 10, 1920 15—14 47—40 Dem. Rep.
35 *Washington Mar. 22, 1920 Unan. Unan. Rep. Rep.
36 *Tennessee Aug. 18, 1920 25—4 49—47 Dem. Dem.

* States ratifying at Special Session.

APPENDIX 2

COUNTRIES IN WHICH WOMEN VOTE


Azerbaijain (Moslem) Republic 1919
Australia 1902
Austria 1918
[1]Belgium 1919
British East Africa 1919
Canada 1918
Czecho Slovakia 1918
Denmark 1915
[2]England 1918
Finland 1906
Germany 1918
Holland 1919
Hungary 1918
Iceland 1919
Ireland 1918
Isle of Man 1881
Luxembourg 1919
[3]Mexico 1917
New Zealand 1893
Norway 1907
Poland 1918
Rhodesia 1919
Russia 1917
Scotland 1918
[4]Sweden 1919
United States 1920
Wales 1918

[1] Electoral Reform Bill as passed granted suffrage to widows who have
not remarried and mothers of soldiers killed in battle or civilians
shot by Germans.


[2] Women over age of 30—Bill to reduce age to 21 has passed its second
reading.


[3] No sex qualification for voting in constitution. Women haze so far
not availed themselves of their right to note, but are expected to do
so in the coming elections.


[4] To be confirmed, in 1920.

APPENDIX 3

Resolutions Demanding Investigations

Resolution (171) to authorize an Investigation of the District of
Columbia Workhouse.
Introduced in the House by Miss Jeannette Rankin, Representative from
Montana.
October 5, 1917.

Text of Resolution:

Resolved, That a select committee of seven Members of the House of
Representatives be appointed by the Speaker to investigate the
administration of the District of Columbia Workhouse at Occoquan,
Virginia, and to report thereon as early as possible during the second
session of the Sixty-fifth Congress. Said committee is authorized to
sit during the recess in Washington, District of Columbia and
elsewhere, to subpoena witnesses, and to call for records relating to
the said workhouse. To defray the necessary expenses of such
investigation, including the employment of clerical assistance, the
committee is authorized to expend not to exceed 1,000 from the
contingent fund of the House.


Resolution (130) to authorize an Investigation of Mob Attacks on
Suffragists.

Introduced in the House by John Baer, Representative from North Dakota.

August 17, 1917.

Text of Resolution:

WHEREAS, in the city of Washington, D. C., about 350 feet from the
White House premises is a building known as the Cameron House, in which
is located headquarters and main offices of a woman’s organization at
which is continually congregated women of character, courage and
intelligence, who come from various sections of the United States, and

WHEREAS, on three successive days, to wit: the 14th, 15th and 16th days
of August, 1917, on said days immediately following the closing of the
day’s work by the clerks and employees of the Executive Departments,
hundreds of these clerks and employees, acting with sailors, then and
now in the service of the United States Navy and in uniform at the
time, and soldiers, then and now in the service of the United States
Army, also in their uniforms at the time,—and these clerks, employees,
sailors and soldiers, and others, formed themselves into mobs and
deliberately, unlawfully and violently damaged the said headquarters
and offices of the said woman’s organization by pelting rotten eggs
through the doors and windows, shooting a bullet from a revolver
through a window, and otherwise damaging said Cameron House, and also
violently and unlawfully did strike, choke, drag and generally mistreat
and injure and abuse the said women when they came defenseless upon the
streets adjoining as well as when they were in the said building; and

WHEREAS, the organized police of the City of Washington, District of
Columbia, made no attempt to properly safeguard the property and
persons of the said defenseless women, but, on the contrary, said
police even seemed to encourage the lawless acts of the mob; and

WHEREAS, such lawlessness is in the Capital of the United States and
within a few hundred feet of -the Executive Mansion and offices of the
President of the United States; and

WHEREAS, these attacks upon defenseless women are not only an outrage
and crime in themselves, that prove the perpetrators and those lending
aid to the same to be cowards, but in addition, create throughout the
world contempt for the United States and set a vicious example to the
people throughout the United States and the world at large, of
lawlessness and violence; and encourage designing cowards and
manipulators everywhere to form mobs to molest the innocent and
defenseless under any pretext whatever; and

WHEREAS, there seems to be no activity or attempt on the part of any
one in authority in the City of Washington, District of Columbia, nor
by the government officials to apprehend, arrest or punish those
perpetrating the violence, on account of which the same may occur
indefinitely unless Congress acts in the premises; and

WHEREAS, the legal status upon the premises stated would excuse the
occupants of the Cameron House if they were so disposed in firing upon
the mobs aforesaid, and thus create a state of greater violence and
unlawless, to further injure the prestige and good name of the United
States for maintaining law and order and institutions of democracy;
therefore be it

Resolved, that the Speaker appoint a Committee of seven members to
investigate into all the facts relating to the violence and unlawful
acts aforesaid, and make the earliest possible report upon the
conditions, with the purpose in view of purging the army and navy of
the United States and other official departments, of all lawless men
who bring disgrace upon the American flag by participating in mob
violence, and also to inquire regarding the conduct of all government
employees and the police of the city of Washington, District of
Columbia, with a view to maintaining law and order.

APPENDIX 4

Suffrage Prisoners

Note:—Scores of women were arrested but never brought to trial; many
others were convicted and their sentences suspended or appealed. It has
been possible to list below only those women who actually served prison
sentences although more than five hundred women were arrested during
the agitation.

MINNIE D. ABBOTT, Atlantic City, N. J., officer of the N.W.P. [National
Woman’s Party]. Arrested picketing July 14, 1917, sentenced to 60 days
in Occoquan workhouse.

MRS. PAULINE ADAMS, Norfolk, Va., wife of leading physician, prominent
clubwoman and Congressional District Chairman of the N.W.P. Arrested
picketing Sept. 4, 1917. Sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse.
Arrested watchfire demonstration Feb. 9, 1919, but released on account
of lack of evidence.

EDITH AINGE, Jamestown, N. Y., native of England, came to America when
a child, and has brought up family of nine brothers and sisters. Worked
for state suffrage in N. Y. 1915. Served five jail sentences. Sentenced
to 60 days in Occoquan for picketing Sept., 1917, 15 days in Aug.,
1918, Lafayette Sq. meeting, and three short terms in District Jail in
Jan., 1919, watchfire demonstrations.

HARRIET U. ANDREWS, Kansas City, Mo., came to Washington as war worker.
Arrested watchfire demonstration and sentenced to 5 days in District
Jail Jan., 1919.

MRS. ANNIE ARNEIL, Wilmington, Del., did picket duty from beginning in
1917. One of first six suffrage prisoners. Served eight jail sentences,
3 days, June, 1917; 60 days in Occoquan, Aug.—Sept., 1917, picketing;
15 days, Aug., 1918, Lafayette Sq. meeting and five sentences of 5 days
each in Jan. and Feb., 1919, watchfire demonstrations.

BERTHE ARNOLD, Colorado Springs, Colo., daughter of prominent
physician. Educated at Colo. State Univ. Student of music Phila.;
member of D.A.R.; kindergarten teacher. Arrested Jan., 1919, watchfire
demonstration, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

VIRGINIA ARNOLD, North Carolina, student George Washington and Columbia
Univs., school teacher, later organizer and executive secretary N.W.P,
in Washington. Served 3 days June, 1917, with first pickets sentenced.

MRS. W. D. ASCOUGH, Detroit, Mich. Former Conn. State Chairman, N.W.P.
Studied for concert stage London and Paris. Abandoned concert stage to
devote time to suffrage. Sentenced to 15 days Aug., 1918, Lafayette Sq.
meeting, and 5 days Feb., 1919, in watchfire demonstration. Member
“Prison Special” which toured country in Feb., 1919.

MRS. ARMY Scorr BAKER, Washington, D. C., wife of Dr. Robert Baker, and
descendant long line of army officers. Three sons in service during
World War. Known as the diplomat of the N.W.P., and as such has
interviewed practically every man prominent in political life. Member
executive committee of N.W.P. and has been political chairman since
1918. Arrested picketing and sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan, Sept.,
1917.

MRS. CHARLES W. BARNES, Indianapolis, Ind., officer of Ind. Branch,
N.W.P. Arrested picketing Nov., 1917, sentenced to 15 days in jail.

MRS. NAOMI BARRETT, Wilmington, Del., arrested watchfire demonstration
Jan. 13, 1919. Sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MRS. W. J. BARTLETT, Putnam, Conn., leader Conn. State Grange. Arrested
Aug., 1917, picketing, sentenced to 60 days.

MRS. M. TOSCAN BENNETT, Hartford, Conn., wife of lawyer and writer,
member D.A.R. and Colonial Dames, has been active in state suffrage
work for many years. Member National Advisory Council, N.W.P. and Conn.
state treasurer. Arrested Jan., 1919, watchfire demonstration.
Sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

HILDA BLUMBERG, New York City, native of Russia, one of youngest
prisoners. Educated and taught school in this country. Arrested
picketing, Sept., 1917; sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan; arrested
again Nov. 10, sentenced to 15 days.

MRS. KATE BOECKH, Washington, D. C., native of Canada, one of first
women aeroplane pilots. Arrested picketing Aug., 1917, case appealed.
Arrested applauding in court Jan., 1919, served 3 days.

MRS. CATHERINE BOYLE, Newcastle, Del., munitions worker during World
War. Arrested Jan., 1919, watchfire demonstration, sentenced to 5 days
in jail.

LUCY G. BRANHAM, Baltimore, Md., organizer N.W.P., graduate Washington
College, Md.; M. A., Johns Hopkins; graduate student Univ. of Chicago
and Ph.D. Columbia. Won Carnegie hero medal for rescuing man and woman
from drowning at St. Petersburg, Fla. Arrested picketing Sept., 1917,
sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan and District Jail.

MRS. LUCY G. BRANHAM, Baltimore, Md., mother of Miss Lucy Branham,
widow of Dr. John W. Branham who lost his life fighting a yellow fever
epidemic in Ga. Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919; sentenced
to 3 days in District Jail.

MRS. JOHN WINTERS BRANNAN, New York City, daughter of the late Charles
A. Dana, founder and editor N. Y. Sun., trusted counselor of President
Lincoln; wife of Dr. Brannan. Pres. Board of Trustees Bellevue
Hospital; member executive committee N.W.P., state chairman New York
Branch. Did brilliant state suffrage work as officer of Woman’s
Political Union in N. Y. Arrested picketing July 14, 1917, sentenced to
60 days in Occoquan; pardoned by President after serving 3 days. Again
arrested picketing Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 45 days.

JENNIE BRONENBERG, Philadelphia, Pa. Student Wharton School, Univ. of
Pa. Arrested Feb., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MRS. MARY E. BROWN, Wilmington, Del., state press chairman, N.W.P.
Father member First Del. regiment; mother field nurse, Civil War.
Descendant Captain David Porter, of Battleship Essex, War of 1812.
Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan. 13, 1919, sentenced to 5 days in
District Jail.

LOUISE BRYANT, New York City, formerly of Portland Ore., author, poet
and journalist, wife of John Reed. Correspondent for Phila. Public
Ledger in Petrograd for six months during Russian revolution. Arrested
Watchfire demonstration Feb., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District
Jail.

Lucy BURNS, New York City, graduate Vassar College, student of Yale
Univ. and Univ. of Bonn, Germany. High School teacher. Joined English
militant suffrage movement 1909, where she met Alice Paul, with whom
she joined in establishing first permanent suffrage headquarters in
Washington in Jan., 1913; helped organize parade of March 3, 1913; vice
chairman and member of executive committee Congressional Union for
Woman Suffrage [later the N.W.P.], for a time editor of The Suffragist.
Leader of most of the picket demonstrations and served more time in
jail than any other suffragist in America. Arrested picketing June,
1917, sentenced to 3 days; arrested Sept., 1917, sentenced to 60 days;
arrested Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to six months; in January, 1919,
arrested watchfire demonstrations for which she served one 3 day and
two 5 day sentences. She also served 4 prison terms in England.

MRS. HENRY BUTTERWORTH, New York City, comes of an old Huguenot family.
Active in civic and suffrage work in N. Y. for past 20 years. Charter
member National Society of Craftsmen. Arrested picketing Nov., 1917,
sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan.

MRS. LUCILLE A. CALME9, Princeton, Ia. Great-granddaughter of George
Fowler, founder of New Harmony, Ind. Government worker during World
War. Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan. 13, 1919, sentenced to 5
days in District Jail.

ELEANOR CALNAN, Methuen, Mass. Congressional district chairman of Mass.
Branch N.W.P. Arrested picketing July 14, 1917, sentenced to 60 days in
Occoquan, pardoned by President after 3 days; arrested Sept., 1917,
sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan. Arrested in Boston, Feb., 1919, for
participation in Boston demonstration at home coming of President;
sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

MRS. AGNES CHASE, Washington, D. C., formerly of Ill.; engaged in
scientific research work for U. S. Dept. of Agriculture. Arrested
Lafayette Sq. meeting August, 1918, sentenced to 10 days. Arrested
watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days.

MRS. PALYS L. CHEVRIER, New York City, arrested watchfire demonstration
Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days. Member “Prison Special” which toured
country in Feb., 1919.

MRS. HELEN CHISASKI, Bridgeport, Conn., munition worker and member of
Machinists’ Union. Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan. 13, 1919;
sentenced to 5 days in jail.

MRS. WILLIAM CHISHOLM, Huntington, Pa., now deceased; arrested
picketing Sept. 4, 1917, sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan.

JOSEPHINE COLLINS, Framingham, Mass., owns and manages the village
store at Framingham Center. She encountered serious opposition from
some of her customers on account of her militant activities; one of
first members N.W.P.; arrested in Boston Feb., 1919, for taking part in
welcome to the President; sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

MRS. SARAH TARLETON COLVIN, St. Paul, Minn., member famous Tarleton
family of Alabama, wife of Dr. A. R. Colvin, Major in the Army, and
Acting Surgical Chief at Fort McHenry during World War; graduate nurse
Johns Hopkins training school, Red Cross nurse in this country during
war; Minnesota state chairman N.W.P. Member “Prison Special.” Arrested
watchfire demonstrations Jan., 190; sentenced to 2 terms of 5 days
each.

BETTY CONNOLLY, West Newton, Mass., household assistant, arrested in
Boston, Feb., 1919, demonstration of welcome to President Wilson;
sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

MRS. ALICE M. COSU, New Orleans, La., vice chairman La. state branch
N.W.P. Arrested picketing Nov., 1917, and sentenced to 30 days in
Occoquan workhouse.

CORA CRAWFORD, Philadelphia, Pa., business woman. Marched in 1913
suffrage parade in Washington. Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan.,
1919; sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

GERTRUDE CROCKER, Washington, D. C., formerly of Ill., educated at
Vassar College and Univ. of Chicago. National Treasurer N.W.P. 1916;
government worker, 1917. Served 3 jail sentences: 30 days for picketing
in 1917, 10 days for assisting Lafayette Sq. meeting 1918, and 5 days
for participating watchfire 1919.

RUTH CROCKER, Washington, D. C., formerly of Ill., sister of Gertrude
Crocker. Came to Washington for suffrage, later government worker.
Served 30 days at Occoquan for picketing in 1917 and 3 days in District
Jail for watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919.

Miss L. J. C. DANIELS, Grafton, Vt., and Boston. Arrested picketing
Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 15 days. Took part in Capitol picketing
Nov., 1918; arrested watchfire demonstration Jan. 9, 1919, sentenced to
5 days in District Jail. Arrested in Boston for participation in
welcome demonstration to President, sentenced to 8 days in Charles St.
Jail.

DOROTHY DAY, New York City, member of the “Masses” [now the
“Liberator”] staff. Arrested picketing Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 30
days in Occoquan workhouse.

EDNA DIXON, Washington, D. C., daughter of physician; teacher in public
schools. Arrested picketing Aug., 1917, sentenced to SO days in
Occoquan workhouse.

LAVINIA L. DOCK, Fayetteville, Pa., associated with the founders of
American Red Cross nursing service; secretary of American Federation of
Nurses and member of International Council of Nurses. Assisted in
relief work during Johnstown flood and during Fla. yellow fever
epidemic; army nurse during Spanish-American War, author of “The
History of Nursing,” “The Tuberculosis Nurse,” and a number of other
text books on nursing. One of early workers of Henry St. Settlement in
N. Y., and founder of visiting nurse movement in N. Y. On staff of
American Journal of Nursing. One of first six pickets to serve prison
sentence of 3 days in June, 1917. Later that summer she served 25 days
in Occoquan; and in Nov. 15 days.

MRS. MARY CARROLL DOWELL, Philadelphia, Pa., wife of William F. Dowell,
magazine editor and writer with whom she has been associated in
business. Active club and suffrage worker in Pa. and N. J., state
officer Pa. branch N.W.P. Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan. 20,
1919, and served 5 days in District Jail.

MARY DUBROW, Passaic, N. J.; student Univ. of N. Y.; teacher in N. J.
until she joined suffrage ranks as organizer and speaker. Arrested
watchfire demonstration Jan. 6, 1919, sentenced to 10 days.

JULIA EMORY, Baltimore, Md.; daughter of late state senator, D. H.
Emory. Gave up work for Trade Union League to work for suffrage in
1917. Sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan for picketing Nov., 1917. After
her release became organizer N.W.P. Aug., 1918, arrested and sentenced
td 10 days Lafayette Sq. meeting. Jan. 7, 1919, sentenced to 10 days,
and later in that month to 5 days for watchfire demonstrations. Led
Capitol picket Oct. and Nov., 1919, and suffered many injuries at hands
of police.

MRS. EDMUND C. EVANs, Ardmore, Pa., one of three Winsor sisters who
served prison terms for suffrage. Member of prominent Quaker family.
Arrested watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919, and sentenced to 5 days in
District Jail.

Lucy EWING, Chicago, Ill., daughter of Judge Adlai Ewing, niece of
James Ewing, minister to Belgium under Cleveland; niece also of Adlai
Stevenson, Vice-President under Cleveland. Officer Ill. Branch N.W.P.
Arrested picketing Aug. 17, 1917, sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan
workhouse.

MRS. ESTELLA EYLWARD, New Orleans, La. Business woman. Came to
Washington to take part in final watchfire demonstration Feb., 1919;
arrested and sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MARY GERTRUDE FENDALL, Baltimore, Md., graduate of Bryn Mawr College;
campaigned for N.W.P. in West 1916; national treasurer of organization
June, 1917, to December, 1919. Arrested and sentenced to 3 days, Jan.,
1819, for applauding in court.

ELLA FINDEISEN, Lawrence, Mass. Arrested picketing Nov. 10, 1917,
sentenced to 30 days at Occoquan.

KATHARINE FISHER, Washington, D. C., native of Mass. Great-
greatgranddaughter of Artemas Ward, ranking Major General in
Revolutionary War. Teacher, social worker and later employee of U. S.
War Risk Bureau. Written prose and verse on suffrage and feminist
topics. Arrested picketing Sept. 13, 1917, sentenced to 30 days at
Occoquan workhouse.

MRS. ROSE GRATZ FISHSTEIN, Philadelphia, Pa., native of Russia. Came to
America at 15. Had been imprisoned for revolutionary activities in
Russia and fled to this country following release on bail. Operator in
shirt factory; later union organizer; factory inspector for N. Y. State
Factory Commission. Feb. 9, 1919 arrested watchfire demonstration and
sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

ROSE FISHSTEIN, Philadelphia, Pa., sister-in-law of Mrs. Rose G.
Fishstein, born in Russia, educated in N. Y. and Phila. Student of
Temple Univ., business woman. Arrested watchfire demonstration, Feb.,
1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

CATHERINE M. FLANAGAN, Hartford, Conn., state and national organizer
for N.W.P.; formerly secretary for Conn. Woman Suffrage Association.
Father came to this country as Irish exile because of his efforts in
movement for Irish freedom. Arrested picketing August, 1917, sentenced
to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

MARTHA FOLEY, Dorchester, Mass., active worker in Mass. labor movement.
Arrested in demonstration at homecoming of President in Boston, Feb.,
1919; sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

MRS. T. W. FORBES, Baltimore, Md., officer of Just Government League of
Md.; arrested watchfire demonstration Feb. 9, 1919, sentenced to 5 days
in District Jail.

JANET FOTHERINGHAM, Buffalo, N. Y., teacher of physical culture.
Arrested picketing July 14, 1917, sentenced to 60 days in workhouse,
but pardoned by President after 3 days.

MARGARET FOTHERINGHAM, Buffalo, N. Y., Red Cross dietician, stationed
at military hospital at Waynesville, N. C., during war. Later dietician
at Walter Reid Military Hospital, Washington, D. C. Arrested picketing
Aug., 1917, sentenced to 60 days.

FRANCIS FOWLER, Brookline, Mass., sentenced to 8 days in Charles St.
Jail for participation in demonstration of welcome to President,
Boston, Feb., 1919.

MRS. MATILDA HALL GARDNER, Washington, D. C., formerly of Chicago,
daughter of late Frederick Hall, for many years editor of Chicago
Tribune, and wife of Gilson Gardner, Washington representative of
Scripps papers. Educated Chicago, Paris and Brussels. Associated with
Alice Paul and Lucy Burns when they came to Washington to begin
agitation for federal suffrage and member of national executive
committee of N.W.P. since 1914. Arrested July 14, 1917, sentenced to 60
days in Occoquan; Jan. 13, 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

ANNA GINSBERG, New York City; served 5 days in District jail for
watchfire demonstration Feb., 1919.

REBA GOMROROV, Philadelphia, Pa.; born in Kiev, Russia. Educated in U.
S. public schools; social worker; assistant secretary and visitor for
Juvenile Aid Society of Phila. President Office Workers’ Association;
secretary of Penn. Industrial Section for Suffrage; member N.W.P.,
Trade Union League. Sentenced to 5 days in District Jail Jan., 1919,
for watchfire demonstration.

ALICE GRAM, Portland, Ore., graduate Univ. of Ore., came to Washington
to take part in picket Nov. 10, 1917. Arrested and sentenced to 30 days
in Occoquan workhouse. Following release assistant in press dept.
N.W.P.

BETTY GRAM, Portland, Ore., graduate Univ. of Ore. Abandoned stage
career to take part in picket demonstration of Nov. 10, 1917. Worker in
Juvenile courts of Portland. Sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan
workhouse; later arrested in Boston demonstration of Feb., 1919, and
sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail. Business manager of The
Suffragist and national organizer for N.W.P.

NATALIE GRAT, Col. Springs, Col., daughter of treasurer Col. Branch N.
W. P. Arrested picketing Aug. 17, 1917, sentenced to 30 days in
Occoquan workhouse.

MRS. FRANCIS GREEN, New York City, one of second group of women to
serve prison sentences for suffrage in this country. Served 3 days in
District Jail following picket demonstration of July 4, 1917.

GLADYS GREINER, Baltimore, Md., daughter of John E. Greiner ,
engineering expert, member of Stevens Railway Commission to Russia in
1917. Graduate of Forest Glen Seminary, Md.; did settlement work in
mountain districts of Ky.; has held tennis and golf championships of
Md., and for 3 years devoted all time to suffrage. Arrested picketing
July 4, 1917, sentenced to 3 days in District Jail; arrested Oct. 20,
1917, sentenced to 30 days in District Jail; arrested Lafayette Sq.
meeting Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15 days in District Jail. Recently
taken up work in labor movement.

MRS. J. IRVING GROSS. Boston, Mass., charter member of Mass. Branch
N.W.P. Father and husband both fought in Civil War. Arrested 5 times
Lafayette Sq. meetings Aug., 1918, and sentenced to 15 days in District
Jail. Arrested in Boston demonstration on Common following landing of
President and sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

ANNA GWINTER, New York City, arrested for picketing Nov. 10, 1917, and
sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

ELIZABETH HAMILTON, New York City, arrested for picketing Nov. 10,
1917, and sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

ERNESTINE HARA, New York City, young Roumanian, arrested for picketing
Sept., 1917, and sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

REBECCA HARRISON Joplin, Mo., arrested final watchfire demonstration
Feb. 10, 1919; sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MRS. H. O. HAVEMEYER, New York City; widow of late H. O. Havemeyer;
leader of suffrage movement for many years; one of its most eloquent
speakers, and generous contributor to its funds; active in Liberty Loan
campaigns, in the Land Army movement of N. Y. State, and in working for
military rank for nurses. As member of “Prison Special” spoke for
suffrage in the large cities. Arrested Feb. 10, 1919, for taking part
in final watchfire demonstration; sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

KATE HEFFELFINGER, Shamokin, Pa.; art student; sentenced to 6 months in
District Jail for picketing Oct. 15, 1917; another month later added
for previous offense. Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15 days for
participating in Lafayette Sq. meeting; Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days
for participation in watchfire demonstration.

MRS. JESSICA HENDERSON, Boston, Mass., wife of prominent Bostonian, one
of liberal leaders of Boston; identified with many reform movements.
Mother of 6 children, one of whom, Wilma, aged 18, was arrested with
her mother, spent night in house of detention, and was released as
minor. Sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail Feb., 1919, for
participation in Boston demonstration of welcome to President.

MINNIE HENNESY, Hartford, Conn.; business woman, having supported
herself all her life; arrested for picketing Oct. 6, 1917, and sentence
suspended. Rearrested Oct. 8, 1917, and sentenced to 6 months.

ANNE HERKIMER, Baltimore, Md., Child Labor inspector for U. S.
Children’s Bureau. Arrested Feb., 1919, and sentenced to 5 days in
District Jail for participating watchfire demonstration.

ELSIE HILL, Norwalk, Conn.; daughter of late Ebenezer J. Hill, 21 years
Congressman from Conn.; graduate Vassar College and student abroad.
Taught French in District of Columbia High School. Lately devoted all
her time to suffrage. Member of executive committee of Congressional
Union 1914-1915; President D.C. Branch College Equal Suffrage League,
and later national organizer for N.W.P. Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15
days in District Jail for speaking at Lafayette Sq. meeting. Feb.,
1919, sentenced to 8 days in Boston for participation in welcome
demonstration to President.

MRS. GEORGE HILL, Boston, Mass.; sentenced to 8 days in Boston, Feb.,
1919, for participation in welcome to President.

MRS. FLORENCE BAYARD HILLES, Newcastle, Del.; daughter of late Thomas
Bayard, first American ambassador to Great Britain and secretary of
state under Cleveland. Munitions worker during World War. After the war
engaged in reconstruction work in France. Chairman Del. Branch N.W.P.
and member of national executive committee. Arrested picketing July 14,
1917, sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse; pardoned by President
after 3 days.

MRS. J. A. H. HOPKINS (ALLISON TURNBULL), Morristown, N. J., state
chairman N.W.P., member executive committee N.W.P. 1917, and president
and officer of various women’s clubs. Her husband was leader
Progressive Party and later supported President Wilson, serving on
Democratic National Campaign Committee in 1916. At present Chairman
Committee of 48. Mrs. Hopkins arrested July 14, 1917, for picketing,
sentenced to 60 days in workhouse; pardoned by President after 3 days.

MRS. L. H. HORNBBY, New York City, formerly of Ill., one of first women
aviators in this country. Arrested for picketing Nov. 10, 1917;
sentenced to 30 days in District Jail.

ELIZABETH HOFF, Des Moines, Ia.; came to Washington to work for war
department during war; later with Red Cross. Sentenced to 5 days in
jail, Jan., 1919, for watchfire demonstration.

EUNICE HUFF, Des Moines, Ia.; sister of Elizabeth; also engaged in war
work in Washington. Sentenced to 3 days in jail Jan., 1919, for
applauding suffrage prisoners in court.

HAZEL HUNSINs, Billings, Mont.; graduate Vassar College; later
instructor in Chemistry, Univ. of Mo. Joined suffrage movement as
organizer for N.W.P. Later investigator for War Labor Board. Active in
all picketing campaigns. Aug. 1918, sentenced to 15 days for
participation in Lafayette Sq. meeting.

JULIA HURLBUT, Morristown, N. J., vice chairman N. J. Branch N.W.P. In
1916 assisted in Washington state campaign. Arrested picketing July 14,
1917, sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse; pardoned by President
after 3 days. Engaged in war work in France during war.

MARY INGRAM, Philadelphia, Pa.; graduate Bryn Mawr College; Pa.
chairman of N.W.P.; secretary of National Progressive League 1912. Has
held offices of vice president of Pa. Women’s Trade Union League,
director of Bureau of Municipal Research of Phila-, member of board of
corporators of Woman’s Medical College of Pa., where she was former
student. For several years manager woman’s department of Bonbright and
Co., investment brokers. Arrested for picketing July 14, 1917;
sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan, pardoned by President after 3 days.

MRS. MARK JACKSON, Baltimore, Md., arrested picketing Aug., 1917,
sentenced to 30 days.

PAULA JAKOBI, New York City; playwright, author of “Chinese Lily.” Once
matron of Framingham reformatory for purpose of studying prison
conditions. Arrested picketing Nov. 10, 1917, and sentenced to 30 days
in Occoquan workhouse.

MAUD JAMISON, Norfolk, Va.; came to Washington in 1916 as volunteer
worker of N.W.P. Later became assistant in treasurer’s department. Had
been school teacher and business woman before joining N.W.P. Took
active part in picketing from the beginning; one of first group
arrested, June, 1917; served 3 days in District Jail; later served 30
days in District Jail; Oct., 1917, sentenced to 7 months. Released by
Government after 44 days. Jan., 1919, served 5 days in jail for
participation in watchfire demonstration.

MRS. PEGGY BAIRD JOHNS; New York City, formerly of St. Louis, newspaper
woman and magazine writer. Sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse
Aug., 1917; and 30 days in Nov., 1917, for picketing.

WILLIE GRACE JOHNSON, Shreveport, La., state officer, N.W.P. and
prominent in civic work. Successful business woman. Arrested in final
watchfire demonstration Feb., 1919. Sentenced to 5 days in District
Jail.

AMY JUENGLING, Buffalo, N. Y.; of Swiss and German ancestry. Graduated
with honors from Univ. of N. Y. Has lived in Porto Rico and North
Carolina, in latter state doing educational work among mountaineers. At
present engaged in Americanization work. Nov., 1917, sentenced to 30
days in Occoquan workhouse for picketing.

ELIZABETH GREEN KALB, Houston, Texas; graduate Rice Institute, 1916;
student Univ. Chicago, 1916. Won Carnegie Peace Prize in Texas state
intercollegiate oratory contest in 1915. In 1918 became active worker
for N.W.P., taking part in Capitol picket. Arrested watchfire
demonstration Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail. In
charge of literature and library dept. of N.W.P. at national
headquarters.

RHODA KELLOGG, Minneapolis, Minn.; graduate Univ. of Minn. and Pres. of
Univ. Equal Suffrage Club. Sentenced to ~?4 hours for applauding
suffrage prisoners in Court Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District
Jail for participation in watchfire demonstration same month.

MRS. FREDERICK W. KENDALL, Hamburg, N. Y.; wife of one of editors of
Buffalo Express; writer, public speaker and club leader. Arrested for
picketing, Aug., 1917, and sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

MARIE ERNST KENNEDY, Philadelphia, Pa.; formerly state chairman N.W.P.
Arrested Feb., 1919, in watchfire demonstration, sentenced to 5 days in
jail.

MRS. MARGARET WOOD KESSLER, Denver, Col.; vice president Woman’s
Progressive Club of Col. Sept., 1917, sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan
for picketing.

ALICE KIMBALL, New York City. Has been engaged in Y.W.C.A. work, and as
librarian in N. Y. Public Library, and later as labor investigator.
Sentenced to 15 days in District Jail for taking part in Lafayette Sq.
meeting Aug. 10, 1918.

MRS. BEATRICE KINKEAD, Montclair, N. J., active member of N.W.P. in N.
J. Joined picket of July 14, 1917. Sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan,
but pardoned by President after 3 days.

MRS. RQBY E. KOENIG, Hartford, Conn. Took part in Lafayette Sq. meeting
of Aug., 1918, and suffered sprained arm from rough treatment by
police. Arrested and sentenced to 15 days in District Jail.

HATTIE KRUGER, Buffalo, N. Y. Trained nurse; ran for Congress on
Socialist ticket in 1918. Worker in Lighthouse Settlement,
Philadelphia, and for time probation officer of Juvenile Court of
Buffalo. Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse for
picketing.

DR. ANNA KUHN, Baltimore, Md., physician. Arrested picketing Nov. 10,
1917, sentenced to 30 days.

MRS. LAWRENCE LEWIS, Philadelphia, Pa., maternal ancestor of family
which took possession 1660 land grant in Conn. from King, paternal
ancestor Michael Hillegas who came Phila. 1727, a founder of Phila.
Academy Fine Arts, Assembly, etc. Son of Hillegas was first U. S.
treasurer; sister of Dr. Howard A. Kelly, well-known surgeon, formerly
professor Johns Hopkins Hospital, author of many medical books; sister
of Mrs. R. R. P. Bradford, founder and Pres. of Lighthouse Settlement,
Phila.; member executive committee of N.W.P. since 1913; chairman of
finance 1918; national treasurer, 1919; chairman ratification committee
1920; active in state suffrage work many years; served 3 days in jail
for picketing July, 1917; arrested Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 60 days;
arrested Lafayette Sq. meeting, Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15 days;
arrested watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in
jail.

KATHARINE LINCOLN, New York City, formerly of Philadelphia. Was working
for Traveler’s Aid when she came to picket Nov. 10, 1917. Sentenced to
30 days in Occoquan workhouse. Worked for N.W.P. for several months;
later campaigned for Anne Martin, candidate for U. S. Senate from Nev.’

DR. SARAH H. LOCKREY, Philadelphia, Pa.; graduate Woman’s Medical
College of Pa. Served as interne Woman’s Hospital in Phila., and later
head of gynecological clinic of same hospital. Surgeon on West Phila.
Hospital for Women and Children. Received degree of Fellow of American
College of Surgery 1914. Chairman of her Congressional District for the
N.W.P. Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15 days in District Jail for taking
part in Lafayette Sq. meeting.

ELIZABETH MCSHANE, Philadelphia, Pa., graduate Vassar College;
principal of school near Indianapolis, later business woman. Assisted
in Pa. health survey, working with the American Medical Association.
Aug., 1918, sentenced to 15 days in jail for participation in Lafayette
Sq. meeting. Jan., 1919, served 5 days for participating in watchfire
demonstration. Member of “Prison Special” 1919.

MRS. ANNIE J. MAGEE, Wilmington, Del., one of first Del. supporters of
N.W.P. Took part in many pickets. Arrested watchfire demonstration
Jan., 1919, and sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MRS. EFFIE B. MAIN, Topeka, Kan., arrested for taking part in Lafayette
Sq. meeting Aug. 10, 1918; sentenced to 10 days in District Jail.

MAUD MALONE, New York City, librarian in N. Y. Lifelong suffragist;
arrested for picketing, Sept. 4, 1917, and served sentence of 60 days
at Occoquan workhouse.

ANNE MARTIN, Reno, Nev.; graduate Leland Stanford Univ.; studied in
English Univs. Professor of history in Univ. of Nev. As Pres. of Nev.
Woman’s Civic League led successful fight for state suffrage in 1914.
Served as legislative chairman for Congressional Union, and N.W.P. and
member of executive committee. When N.W.P. was formed, in 1916, elected
its chairman. When it combined with Congressional Union, she became
vice chairman. In 1918 ran on independent ticket for U. S. Senate. July
14, 1917, sentenced to 60 days at Occoquan workhouse for picketing.
Pardoned by President after 3 days.

MRS. LOUISE PARKER MAYO, Framingham, Mass., of Quaker descent. Taught
school for five years before marriage to William 1. Mayo, grandson of
Chief Justice Isaac Parker of Mass. Mother of 7 children. Arrested for
picketing July 14, 1917; sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse;
pardoned by President after 3 days.

NELL MERCER, Norfolk, Va.; member of Norfolk Branch, N.W.P. Business
woman. Feb., 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail for
participation in final watchfire demonstration.

VIDA MILHOLLAND, New York City; daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John E.
Milholland and sister of Inez Milholland Boissevain. Student at Vassar
where won athletic championships and dramatic honors. Studied singing
here and abroad, but on death of sister gave up career of promise to
devote herself to suffrage work. July 4, 1917 arrested and served 3
days in District Jail for picketing. In 1919 toured the country with
“Prison Special,” singing at all meetings.

MRS. BERTHA MOLLER, Minneapolis, Minn., campaigned for state suffrage
before joining N.W.P. Interested in industrial problems. Of Swedish
descent, one of ancestors served on staff of Gustavus- Adolphus, and 2
uncles are now members of Swedish parliament. She served 2 ,jail
sentences, one of 24 hours for applauding suffragists in court, and
another of 5 days for participation in watchfire demonstration, Jan.,
1919.

MARTHA W. MOORE, Philadelphia, Pa., of Quaker ancestry, student at
Swarthmore College; charter member of Congressional Union; has devoted
herself to social service work, Children’s Aid, Traveler’s Aid, etc.
Arrested and sentenced to 5 days in District Jail Jan., 1919, for
participation in watchfire demonstration.

MRS. AGNES H. MOREY, Brookline, Mass., comes of line of Colonial
ancestors who lived in Concord. Following picket of Nov. 10, 1917,
sentenced to 30 days at District Jail and Occoquan. Chairman of Mass.
Branch N.W.P., of which she was one of founders, and member of National
Advisory Council N.W.P. Member of “Suffrage Special” of 1916, and a
gifted speaker and organizer.

KATHARINE A. MOREY, Brookline, Mass., daughter of Mrs. A. H. Morey;
also officer State Branch N.W.P. Organizer election campaign 1916 in
Kansas and has many times assisted at national headquarters. One of
first group pickets sentenced, served 3 days, June, 1917; Feb., 1919,
arrested in Boston demonstration of welcome to President and sentenced
to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

MILDRED MORRIS, Denver, Col., well-known newspaper woman of Denver.
Came to Washington for Bureau of Public Information during war. Later
investigator for War Labor Board. Now Washington correspondent
International News Service. In Jan., 1919, served 5 day sentence in
District Jail for lighting watchfire.

MRS. PHOEBE C. MUNNECKE, Detroit, Mich.; assisted with meetings and
demonstrations in Washington winter of 1918-19. Jan., 1919, arrested
for lighting watchfire, sentenced to 10 days in jail. Later sentenced
to 3 days in jail for applauding suffrage prisoners in court.

GERTRUDE MURPHY, Minneapolis, Minn., superintendent of music in Minn.
public schools. Jan.; 1919, served 24-hour sentence for applauding
suffragists in court. Later served 5 days in District Jail for
participation in watchfire demonstration.

MRS. MARY A. NOLAN, Jacksonville, Fla., born in Va.; descended from
family of Duffy, Cavan, Ireland. Educated at convent of Mont CIO
Chantal in W. Va. As young woman was teacher and leader in Southern
library movement. Suffrage pioneer; prominent in Confederate
organizations of South. In 1917 joined N.W.P., came to Washington to
picket. Arrested Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 6 days in District Jail,
but sent to Occoquan workhouse. January, 1919, arrested many times in
watchfire demonstrations; sentenced to 24 hours in jail. Oldest
suffrage prisoner.

MRS. MARGARET OAKES, Idaho; arrested Lafayette Sq. meeting Aug., 1918,
and sentenced to 10 days in District Jail.

ALICE PAUL, Moorestown, N. J. English Quaker ancestor imprisoned for
Quaker beliefs died in English prison; born of Quaker parentage and
brought up in this small Quaker town. Received her A.B. degree from
Swarthmore College, and her M.A. and Ph.D. from Univ. of Pa. Graduate
of N. Y. School of Philanthropy, and studied at Universities of London
and Birmingham, specializing in economics and sociology. While in
England took part in militant campaign under Mrs. Pankhurst. On return
to America, she was appointed chairman in 1913 of the Congressional
Committee of the National American Woman Suffrage Association. Founded
Congressional Union for Woman Suffrage; made chairman. When this became
an independent organization reappointed chairman. When it merged with
the N.W.P. in 1917, she was chosen chairman of the combined
organizations, and has continued in this office to the present date.
Has served 6 prison terms for suffrage, 3 in England and 3 in United
States. In Oct., 1919, she was sentenced to 7 months for picketing and
served 5 weeks before released on account of hunger strike. While in
jail suffered the severest treatment inflicted upon any suffrage
prisoner. In Aug., 1918, sentenced to 10 days for participation in
Lafayette Sq. meeting. In Jan., 1919, sentenced to 5 days for lighting
a watchfire.

BERRY POTTIER, Boston, Mass., of French descent; art student;
participated in Boston demonstration at home-coming of President, and
sentenced to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

EDNA M. PURTELLE, Hartford, Conn., sentenced to 5 days in District Jail
for participation in Lafayette Sq. meeting Aug., 1918.

MRS. R. B. QUAY, Salt Lake City, Utah; arrested in Nov. 10, 1917,
picket; sentenced to 30 days in District Jail, but sent to Occoquan
workhouse.

MRS. BETSY REYNEAU, Detroit, Mich., wife of Paul Reyneau; portrait
painter. Arrested picketing July 14, 1917. Sentenced to 60 days in
Occoquan, but pardoned by the President after 3 days.

MRS. C. T. ROBERTSON, Salt Lake City, Utah; active worker for reforms
affecting women. Arrested in Nov. 10, 1917, picket; sentenced to 30
days in District Jail, but sent to Occoquan workhouse.

MRS. GEORGE E. ROEWER, Belmont, Mass., graduate of Radcliffe, active
suffragist since college days; wife of well known attorney of Boston
and granddaughter of prominent figures in German Revolution of 1848 who
were exiled to the United States. Sentenced to 8 days in Boston Charles
St. Jail following participation in welcome demonstration to the
President, Feb. 1919.

MRS. JOHN ROGERS, JR., New York City, wife of Dr. John Rogers, Jr.,
celebrated thyroid expert, is a descendant of Roger Sherman, signer of
the Declaration of Independence. A pioneer worker for state suffrage
before taking up national work. Before entering suffrage movement
active in improving conditions in New York public schools. Chairman
Advisory Council of the N.W.P., and one of the most forceful speakers
in the suffrage ranks. In 1916 and 1919 as member of “Suffrage Special”
and “Prison Special” toured the country speaking for suffrage. July 14,
1917, sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse for picketing, but was
pardoned by the President after 3 days.

MARGUERITE ROSSETTE, Baltimore, Md., young artist, and niece of Dr.
Joshua Rossette, well known social worker. Took part in N.W.P.
demonstrations, served 5 days in District Jail for participation in
final watchfire demonstration, Feb., 1919.

MRS. ELISE T. RUSSIAN, Detroit, Mich., born in Constantinople of
Armenian parentage. Educated in this country. Taught school in Mass.
until marriage. State officer N.W.P. Sentenced to 5 days in District
Jail for participation in Jan., 1919, watchfire demonstration; and 8
days in Boston in the Charles St. Jail for participation in welcome
demonstration to President in Feb., 1919.

NINA SAMARODIN, born in Kiev, Russia, graduate of Kiev University. In
1914 came to America on visit, but entered industrial fight, becoming,
first, worker and then union organizer. Teacher Rand School of Social
Science, New York. Sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan for picketing
September, 1917.

MRS. PHOEBE PERSONS SCOTT, Morristown, New Jersey, graduate of Smith
College where she specialized in biology and botany. Did settlement
work at New York Henry St. Settlement. Worked for state suffrage before
joining N.W.P. and becoming one of its officers. Sentenced to 30 days
in District Jail for picketing Nov. 10, 1917, but sent to Occoquan
workhouse.

RUTH SCOTT, Bridgeport, Conn., munitions worker. Sentenced to 5 days in
District Jail for participation in watchfire demonstration Jan., 1919.

BELLE SHEINBERG, New York City; of Russian descent; student of New York
Univ., who left her studies to picket in Washington Nov. 10, 1917.
Sentenced to 30 days in Occoquan workhouse.

MRS. LUCILLE SHIELDS, Amarillo, Texas. Picketed regularly during 1917.
July 4, 1917, served 3 days in District Jail for picketing; served 5
days Jan. 13, 1919, for participation in watchfire demonstration. Soon
after release sentenced to 3 days for applauding suffrage prisoners in
Court.

MRS. MARTHA REED SHOEMAKER, Philadelphia, Pa., graduate of Vassar
College. Served 5 days in District Jail for participation in final
watchfire demonstration of Feb. 9, 1919.

MRS. MARY SHORT, Minneapolis, Minn., state officer N.W.P. Sentenced to
30 days in Occoquan workhouse for picketing November 10, 1917.

MRS. LOIS WARREN SHAW, Manchester, N. H., student of Vassar and
Radcliffe, mother of six children. Wife of V. P. and General Manager
McElwain Shoe Co., N. H., chairman N.W.P. Sentenced to 8 days in
Charles St. Jail after participation in Boston demonstration to welcome
President Feb., 1919.

RUTH SMALL, Boston, Mass., participant in several state suffrage
campaigns before taking up national work. In charge of Boston
headquarters of N.W.P. for a time. For taking part in Boston
demonstration on the return of the President in Feb., 1919, sentenced
to 8 days in Charles St. Jail.

DR. CAROLINE E. SPENCER, Colorado Springs, Col., formerly of
Philadelphia. Secretary Col. Branch, N.W.P. Graduate Woman’s Medical
College of Pa. October 20, 1917, arrested for picketing and sentenced
to 7 months’ impl1sonment. For participating in watchfire demonstration
Jan. 13, 1919, sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

MRS. KATE STAFFORD, Oklahoma City, Okla., active worker for reforms
affecting women and children in her own state. Mother of six children.
Picketed Nov. 10, 1917, and was sentenced to 30 days in District Jail.

DORIS STEVENS, Omaha, Neb., now resident New York City. Graduate of
Oberlin College; social worker and teacher; organized and spoke for
state suffrage campaigns in Ohio and Michigan; ,joined Congressional
Union in 1913. Organized first Convention of women voters at Panama
Pacific Exposition in 1915; managed 1916 election campaign in Cal. for
N.W.P. Has acted successively as executive secretary, organizer,
legislative chairman, political chairman, and executive committee
member of N.W.P. Arrested for picketing July 14, 1917; sentenced to 60
days in Occoquan workhouse; pardoned by President after 3 days.
Arrested N. Y. Mar., 1919, picket demonstration Metropolitan Opera
House, but not sentenced.

ELIZABETH STUYVESANT, New York City, formerly of Cincinnati; dancer by
profession; active in settlement work and in campaign for
birth-control. July 4, 1917, arrested for picketing and sentenced to 3
days in District Jail.

ELSIE UNTERMAN, Chicago, Ill., social worker who took week’s vacation
in January, 1919, to come to Washington to picket. She served 3 days in
District Jail for applauding suffragists in court.

MABEL VERNON, Wilmington, Del., Secretary N.W.P., graduate Swarthmore
College. Fellow student with Alice Paul. Gave up position as high
school teacher when Congressional Union was founded to become organizer
and speaker. With remarkable gifts as a speaker, has addressed large
meetings in every part of the country. As brilliant organizer has had
charge of many important organization tasks of N.W.P. Organized the
transcontinental trip of voting envoys to the President. Campaigned in
Nev. 1914 and 1916. Became national organization chairman N.W.P.
Organized the Washington picket line for several months. One of the
first six women to serve prison sentence for suffrage in District Jail.
For picketing June, 1917, served 3 days.

MRS. ELSIE VERVANE, Bridgeport, Conn., munitions worker and President
of Woman’s Machinist Union of Bridgeport. In Jan., 1919, came to
Washington with group of union women and took part in watchfire
demonstration; arrested and served 5 days in District Jail.

IRIS CALDERHEAD [now wife of John Brisben Walker], Marysville, Kansas,
now resident of Denver, Colo., daughter of former- Representative
Calderhead of Kansas. Graduate of Univ. of Kansas and student at Bryn
Mawr. Abandoned school teaching to work for suffrage; became organizer
and speaker for N.W.P. July 4, 1917, arrested for picketing and served
3 days in District Jail.

MRS. ROBERT WALKER, Baltimore, Md., officer Md. Branch N.W.P. A Quaker
and graduate of Swarthmore College; wife of a captain in the late war
and mother of 3 children. Arrested July 14, 1917, for picketing and
sentenced to 60 days in Occoquan workhouse. Pardoned by President after
3 days.

BERTHA WALLERSTEIN, New York City, student of Barnard College; served 5
days in District Jail Jan., 1919, for watchfire demonstration.

MRS. BERTHA WALMSLEY, Kansas City, Mo., holding government position at
time arrested for applauding suffragists in court; served 3 days in
District Jail.

MRS. WILLIAM UPTON WATSON, Chicago, Ill., treasurer state branch,
N.W.P. Sentenced to 30 days Occoquan workhouse for picketing Aug. 17,
1917. Aug., 1918, sentenced to 5 days for participation in Lafayette
Sq. meeting.

MRS. C. WEAVER, Bridgeport, Conn., worked during war in munitions
factory. Came to Washington for watchfire demonstration of Jan. 13,
1919; arrested and sentenced to 5 days in District Jail.

EVA WEAVER, Bridgeport, Conn., daughter of Mrs. C. Weaver, also worked
in munitions factory; arrested with mother Jan. 13, 1919, and served 5
days in District Jail.

MRS. HELENA HILL WEED, Norwalk, Conn., graduate of Vassar and Montana
School of Mines. One of few qualified women geologists of country.
Daughter of late Congressman Ebenezer Hill. At one time vice-president
general of D.A.R. Prominent member of Congressional Union and N.W.P.
from early days. One of first pickets arrested, July 4, 1917; served 3
days in District Jail. Aug., 1918, arrested for participation in
Lafayette Sq. meeting; sentenced to 15 days. Jan., 1918, sentenced to
24 hours for applauding in court.

CORA A. WEEK, New York City, of Norse descent; parents Wisconsin
pioneers; studied art in Boston; became member Art Student’s League of
New York; helped organize Oliver Merson Atelier in Paris; exhibited
Paris Salon. Arrested for picketing Nov. 10, 1917; sentenced to 30 days
in District Jail. Member of “Prison Special” 1919.

CAMILLA WHITCOMB, Worcester, Mass., chairman 4th Congressional District
Mass. N.W.P. Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 30 days in jail for picketing.

SUE WHITE, Jackson, Tenn., state chairman N.W.P.; recently edited The
Suffragist; organizer and research chairman. Belongs to prominent
pioneer families of Tenn. and Ky. and is descendant of Marshall and
Jefferson families of Va. Court and convention reporter for ten years;
1918 appointed by Governor Secretary of Tenn. State Commission for the
Blind. Identified with U.D.C. and D.A.R., the Federation of Women’s
Clubs and Parent Teachers’ Association. Has done much to organize
suffrage sentiment in her state. Feb. 9, 1919, arrested and served 5
days in District Jail for participating in final watchfire
demonstration.

MARGARET FAY WHITTEMORE, Detroit, Mich. Her grandmother, a Quaker,
started suffrage work in Michigan. Daughter of one of leading patent
attorneys of country. N.W.P. organizer since 1914. Imprisoned 3 days
for picketing July 4, 1917. Jan., 1919, served 24 hours in jail for
applauding in court.

MRS. HARVEY W. WILEY, Washington, D. C., daughter of General Kelton,
and wife of Dr. Harvey Wiley, food expert and ex-director of the pure
food department of U. S. Government. Member of national advisory
council of N.W.P. Has done lobbying, political work and picketing for
N.W.P. Nov. 10, 1917, sentenced to 15 days in District Jail; appealed
her case; later sustained by higher court.

Ross WINSLOW, New York City, born in Poland and brought to this country
when child. Began work at age of 11 in Philadelphia; for many years
worked in hosiery factory in Pittsburg; later employed in shop in
Philadelphia. Recently has won success as an actress. Has brilliant
gifts; 1916 spoke throughout West in suffrage campaign of N.W.P. Oct.
15, 1917, sentenced to 7 months in District Jail for picketing.

MARY WINSOR, Haverford, Pa.; comes of family of pioneer Quaker descent.
Educated at Drexel Institute of Philadelphia, at Bryn Mawr and abroad.
At request of American Academy of Political and Social Science made
survey of English suffrage movement. Founder and Pres. of Pa. Limited
Suffrage Society. Sept., 1917, sentenced to 60 days at Occoquan
workhouse for picketing. Later sentenced to 10 days for participation
in Lafayette Sq. meeting. Has worked and spoken for suffrage in many
parts of the country. Member “Prison Special” Feb., 1919.

ELLEN WINSOR, Haverford, Pa., sister of Mary Winsor and of Mrs. Edmund
C. Evans, both of whom served prison sentences. Jan., 1919, sentenced
to 5 days in District Jail for participation in watchfire
demonstration.

MRS. KATE WINSTON, Chevy Chase, Md., wife of Prof. A. P. Winston,
formerly Professor of economics at Univ. of Col. and at Univ. of Tokio.
Jan., 1919, arrested and sentenced to 5 days in District Jail for
participation in watchfire demonstration.

CLARA WOLD, Portland, Ore., newspaper writer. Of Norwegian parentage;
her family closely related to Henrik Ibsen. Graduate of Univ. of Ore.
Took part in Lafayette Sq. meeting of Aug., 1918; sentenced to 15 days.
Jan., 1919, arrested for participation in watchfire demonstration and
sentenced to 5 days. For several months acted as editor of The
Suffragist.

JOY YOUNG, New York City, formerly of Washington, D. C., wife of
Merrill Rogers. Former assistant on The Suffragist and later organizer
for N.W.P. in various parts of the country. Served 3 days in District
Jail for picketing July 4, 1917.

MATILDA YOUNG, Washington, D. C., sister of Joy Young; has devoted all
her time to suffrage for several years. Youngest picket arrested, being
19 years old when she first served a prison term. For picketing Nov.
10, 1917, sentenced to 15 days in District Jail; served two terms in
jail in Jan., 1919; 5 days for watchfire demonstration; 3 days for
applauding suffrage prisoners in court.

APPENDIX 5

Directors of National Campaign

Executive Committees Listed by Years

CONGRESSIONAL COMMITTEE

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1913


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y., Vice-chairman
Mrs. Mary R. Beard, N. Y.
Miss Crystal Eastman, N. Y.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.

CONGRESSIONAL UNION FOR WOMAN SUFFRAGE

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1914


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y., Vice-chairman
Mrs. Mary R. Beard, N. Y.
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N. Y.
Miss Crystal Eastman, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D. C.
Miss Elsie Hill, Conn.
Mrs. William Kent, Cal.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1916


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y., Vice-chairman
Mrs. Mary R. Beard, N. Y.
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N. Y.
Miss Crystal Eastman, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D. C.
Miss Elsie Hill, Conn.
Mrs. Donald R. Hooker, Md.
Mrs. William Kent, Cal.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1916


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y., Vice-chairman
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N. Y.
Mrs. John Winters Brannan, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D. C.
Mrs. Donald R. Hooker, Md.
Mrs. William Kent, Cal.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.
Miss Anne Martin, Nevada
Mrs. Harriot Stanton Blatch, N. Y.

WOMAN’S PARTY (Formed June, 1916)

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE


Miss Anne Martin, Nev., Chairman
Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, Cal., 1st Vice-chairman
Judge Mary M. Bartelme, Ill., 2nd Vice-chairman
Miss Mabel Vernon, Nev., Secretary
Miss Alice Paul, N. J., ex-officio

NATIONAL WOMAN’S PARTY


(After Amalgamation of Congressional Union and Woman’s Party)

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1917


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Anne Martin, Nev., Vice-chairman
Miss Mabel Vernon, Del., Secretary
Miss Gertrude L. Crocker, Ill., Treasurer
Mrs. Abby Scott Baker, D. C.
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N. Y.
Mrs. John Winters Brannan, N. Y.
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D. C.
Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles, Del.
Mrs. Donald R. Hooker, Md.
Mrs. J. A. H. Hopkins, N. J.
Mrs. William Kent, Cal.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.
Miss Doris Stevens, N. Y.
Miss Maud Younger, Cal.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1915


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Anne Martin, Nev., Vice-chairman
Miss Mabel Vernon, Del., Secretary
Miss Mary Gertrude Fendall, Md., Treasurer
Mrs. Abby Scott Baker, D. C.
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N. Y.
Mrs. John Winters Brannan, N. Y.
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D.C.
Mrs. Thomas N. Hepburn, Conn.
Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles, Del.
Mrs. Donald R. Hooker, Md.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.
Miss Doris Stevens, N. Y.
Miss Maud Younger, Cal.

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 1919-1990


Miss Alice Paul, N. J., Chairman
Miss Mabel Vernon, Del., Secretary
Miss Mary Gertrude Fendall, Md., Treasurer
Mrs. Abby Scott Baker, D.C.
Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, N.Y.
Mrs. John Winters Brannan, N.Y.
Miss Lucy Burns, N. Y.
Mrs. Gilson Gardner, D. C.
Mrs. Thomas N. Hepburn, Conn.
Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles, Del.
Mrs. Donald R. Hooker, Md.
Mrs. Henry G. Leach, N. Y.
Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Pa.
Miss Doris Stevens. N. Y.
Mrs. Richard Wainwright, D. C.
Miss Maud Younger, Cal.

APPENDIX 6

Concerning Political Prisoners

Definitions

James Bryce:[1]

[1] James Bryce made this distinction in 1889 between the two kinds of
offenders. Letter Introductory to “Political Prisoners at Home and
Abroad,” Sigerson.


“Perhaps we may say that whenever the moral judgment of the community
at large does not brand an offence as sordid and degrading, and does
not feel the offence to be one which destroys its respect for the
personal character of the prisoner, it may there be held that prison
treatment ought to be different from that awarded to ordinary
criminals.”

George Sigerson:[2]

[2] “Political Prisoners at Home and Abroad.”


“Men may differ, in thought and deed, on many questions without moral
guilt. Forms of government and measures relating to the welfare and
organization of society have been, in all ages and countries, questions
on which men have entertained divergent convictions, and asserted their
sincerity by conflicting action, often at grave personal sacrifice and
the loss of life. On the other hand, all people are agreed in
condemning certain acts, stigmatized as crimes, which offend against
the well-being of the individual or the community.

“Hence, civilized states distinguish between actions concerning which
good men may reasonably differ, and actions which all good men condemn.
The latter, if permitted to prevail, would disintegrate and destroy the
social life of mankind; the former, if successful, would simply
reorganize it, on a different basis . . . . The objects may, in one
generation, be branded as crimes, whilst in the next those who fail to
make them triumph and suffered as malefactors are exalted as patriot
martyrs, and their principles incorporated amongst the foundation
principles of the country’s constitution.

“Attempts to effect changes by methods beyond the conventions which
have the sanction of the majority of a community, may be rash and
blameworthy sometimes, but they are not necessarily dishonorable, and
may even occasionally be obligatory on conscience.”

As to the incumbency upon a government to differentiate in punishments
inflicted upon these two classes of offenders, he further says: “When a
Government exercises its punitive power, it should, in awarding
sentence, distinguish between the two classes of offenders. To confound
in a common degradation those who violate the moral law by acts which
all men condemn, and those who offend against the established order of
society by acts of which many men approve, and for objects which may
sometime be accepted as integral parts of established order, is
manifestly wrong in principle. It places a Government morally in the
wrong in the eyes of masses of the population, a thing to be sedulously
guarded against.”

George Clemenceau:[1]

[1] Clemenceau in a speech before the French Chamber of Deputies, May
16th, 1876, advocating amnesty for those who participated in the
Commune of 1871. From the Annals de la Chambre des Deputies, 1876, v.
2, pp. 44-48.


“Theoretically a crime committed in the interest of the criminal is a
common law crime, while an offense committed in the public interest is
a political crime.” He says further, “That an act isolated from the
circumstances under which it was committed . . . may have the
appearance of a common law crime . . : while viewed in connection with
the circumstances under which it is committed (in connection with a
movement) . . . it may take on a political character.”

Maurice Parmelee:[1]

[1] “Criminology” by Maurice Parmelee, Chap. XXVIII. Author also of
“Poverty and Social Progress,” “The Science of Human Behavior,” “The
Principles of Anthropology and Sociology in their relation to Criminal
Procedure.” During the late war Dr. Parmelee was a Representative of
the U. S. War Trade Board stationed at the American Embassy, London;
economic advisor to the State Department, and Chairman of the Allied
Rationing Committee which administered the German Blockade.


“Common crimes are acts contrary to the law committed in the interest
of the individual criminal or of those personally related to the
criminal. Political crimes are acts contrary to the law committed
against an existing government or form of government in the interest of
another government or form of government . . . . .

“Furthermore, there are other offenses against the law which are not
common crimes, and yet are not political crimes in the usual
criminological sense . . . .

“Among these crimes, which are broader than the ordinary political
crimes, are offenses in defense of the right to freedom of thought and
belief, in defense of the right to express one’s self in words in free
speech, . . . and many illegal acts committed by conscientious
objectors to the payment of taxes or to military service, the offenses
of laborers in strikes and other labor disturbances, the violations of
law committed by those who are trying to bring about changes in the
relations between the sexes, etc.

“Common crimes are almost invariably anti-social in their nature, while
offenses which are directly or indirectly political are usually social
in their intent, and are frequently beneficial to society in their
ultimate effect. We are, therefore, justified in calling them social
crimes, as contrasted with the anti-social common crimes . . . . .”

TREATMENT ACCORDED POLITICAL PRISONFRS ABROAD


It is interesting to note what other countries have done toward
handling intelligently the problem of political offenders.

Russia was probably the first country in modern history to recognize
political prisoners as a class,[1] although the treatment of different
groups and individuals varied widely.

[1] Siberia received its first exiles [non-conformists] in the 17th
Century.


First of all, the political offender was recognized as a “political”
not by law, but by custom. When sure of a verdict of guilty, either
through damaging evidence or a packed jury, the offender was tried.
When it was impossible to commit him to trial because there were no
proofs against him, “Administrative Exile” was resorted to. These
judgments or Administrative orders to exile were pronounced in secret
on political offenders; one member of the family of the defendant was
admitted to the trial under the law of 1881. Those exiled by
Administrative order were transported in cars, but stopped en route at
the etapes, political prisoners along with common law convicts. Since
1866 politicals condemned by the courts to hard labor or to exile,
journeyed on foot with common law convicts.[1]

There were no hospitals for political exiles; doctors and ‘ surgeons
among the exiled helped their sick comrades.

Families were permitted to follow the loved ones into exile, if they
chose. For example, wives were allowed to stay at Lower Kara, and visit
their husbands in the prison in Middle Kara twice a week and to bring
them books.

When criminal convicts were freed in Siberia after serving a given
sentence at hard labor, they received an allotment of land and
agricultural implements for purposes of sustenance, and after two years
the government troubled no more about them. They became settlers in
some province of Southern Siberia. With political exiles it was quite
different. When they had finished a seven, ten, or twelve year
sentence, they were not liberated but transferred to the tundras within
the Arctic Circle.

Fancy a young girl student exiled to a village numbering a hundred
houses, with the government allowance of 8 to 10 shillings a month to
live on. Occupations were closed to her, and there was no opportunity
to learn a trade. She was forbidden to leave the town even for a few
hours. The villagers were for the most part in fear of being suspected
if seen to greet politicals in the street.

“Without dress, without shoes, living in the nastiest huts, without any
occupation, they [the exiles were mostly dying from consumption,” said
the Golos of February 2, 1881. They lived in constant fear of
starvation. And the Government allowance was withdrawn if it became
known that an exile received any monetary assistance from family or
friends.

Those politicals condemned to hard labor in Siberia worked mostly in
gold mines for three months out of twelve, during which period meat was
added to their diet. Otherwise black bread was the main food of the
diet.

When held in prisons awaiting trial or convicted and awaiting transfer
into exile, politicals did no work whatever. Their only occupation was
reading. Common criminals had to work in prison as well as in Siberia.

In the fortress of Sts. Peter and Paul,[1] Kropotkin was lodged in a
cell big enough to shelter a big fortress gun (25 feet on the
diagonal). The walls and floor were lined with felt to prevent
communication with others. “The silence in these felt- covered cells is
that of a grave,” wrote Kropotkin . . . . “Here I wrote my two volumes
on The Glacial Period.” Here he also prepared maps and drawings. This
privilege was only granted, to him, however, after a strong movement
amongst influential circles compelled it from the Czar.[1a] The Geo-
graphical Society for whom he was writing his thesis also made many
pleas on his behalf. He was allowed to buy tobacco, writing paper and
to have books—but no extra food.

[1] In the Trubeskoi bastion, one building in the fortress.


[1a] Set Memoirs of a Revolutionist, Kropotkin.


Kropotkin says that political prisoners were not subjected to corporal
punishment, through official fear of bloodshed. But he must mean by
corporal punishment actual beatings, for he says also, “The black
holes, the chains, the riveting to bar rows are usual punishments.” And
some politicals were al- leged to have been put in oubliettes in the
Alexis Ravelin[2] which must have been the worst feature of all the
tortures. This meant immurement alive in cells, in a remote spot where
no contact with others was possible, and where the prisoner would often
be chained or riveted for years.

[2] Another section of Sts. Peter and Paul Fortress.


More recently there was some mitigation of the worst fea- tures of the
prison régime and some additional privileges were extended to
politicals.

All this applied to old Russia. There is no documentary proof available
yet, as to how Soviet Russia treats its offenders against the present
government. The Constitution of the Russian Socialist Federated Soviet
Republic does not provide a status for political prisoners, but it does
provide for their re lease. It specifically deals with amnesty which is
proof of the importance with which it regards the question of political
offenders. It says: “The All-Russian Central Executive Com mittee deal
with questions of state such as . . . the right to declare individual
and general amnesty.[4]

[3] Adopted by the 5th All-Russian Congress of Soviets, July 10, 1918.
Reprinted from The Nation, January 4, 1919.


[4] Article 3, Chapter 9 . . . 49 q.

France has had perhaps the most enlightened attitude of all the nations
toward political offenders. She absolutely guarantees special
treatment, by special regulations, and does not leave it to the
discretion of changing governments.

On August 7, 1834; Thiers, in a ministerial circular, laid down the
fundamental principles upon which France has acted. The only obligation
upon the defendant, according to this circular, was to prove the
political nature of the offense,—“that it should be demonstrated and
incontestable that they have acted under the influence of their
opinions.”[1] Theirs advocated superior diet for political prisoners
and no work.

[1] Sigerson, Political prisoners at Home and Abroad, p. 89.


His edict was followed by special regulations issued for politicals
under the Empire, February 9th, 1867, through M. Pietri, Prefect of the
Seine. These regulations, illustrative of the care France exercised at
an early date over her politicals, defined the housing conditions,
diet, intercourse with comrades inside the prison and with family and
friends from the outside. Their privacy was carefully guarded. No
curious visitor was allowed to see a political unless the latter so
desired.

Kropotkin wrote[2] of his incarceration in Clairvaux prison in 1888, to
which he and twenty-two others were transferred from Lyons after being
prosecuted for belonging to the International Workingmen’s Association:
“In France, it is generally understood that for political prisoners the
loss of liberty and the forced inactivity are in themselves so hard
that there is no need to inflict additional hardships.”

[2] Memoirs of a Revolutionist, Kropotkin.


In Clairvaux he and his comrades were given quarters in spacious rooms,
not in cells. Kropotkin and Emile Gautier, the French anarchist, were
given a separate room for literary work and the Academy of Sciences
offered them the use of its library.

There was no intercourse with common law prisoners. The politicals were
allowed to wear their own clothes, to smoke, to buy food and wine from
the prison canteen or have it brought in; they were free of compulsory
work, but might, if they chose, do light work for which they were paid.
Kropotkin mentions the extreme cleanliness of the prison and the
“excellent quality” of the prison food.

Their windows looked down upon a little garden and also commanded a
beautiful view of the surrounding country. They played nine- pins in
the yard and made a vegetable and flower garden on the surface of the
building’s wall. For other forms of recreation, they were allowed to
organize themselves into classes. This particular group received from
Kropotkin lessons in cosmography, geometry, physics, languages and
bookbinding. Kropotkin’s wife was allowed to visit him daily and to
walk with him in the prison gardens.

Sebastian Faure, the great French teacher and orator, was sentenced to
prison after the anarchist terrorism in 1894 and while there was
allowed to write his “La Douleur Universelle”

Paul La Fargue, son-in-law of Karl Marx, wrote his famous “The Right to
be Lazy” in Sainte Pelagie prison.

France has continued this policy to date. Jean Grave, once a shoemaker
and now a celebrated anarchist, was condemned to six months in La Sante
prison for an offensive article in his paper, Les Temps Nouveaux. Such
is the liberty allowed a political that while serving this sentence he
was given paper and materials with which to write another objectionable
article, called “La Société Mourante et l’Anarchie,” for the
publication of which he received another six months.

It is interesting to note the comparatively light sentences political
offenders get in France. And then there is an established practice of
amnesty. They rarely finish out their terms. Agitation for their
release extends from the extreme revolutionary left to the members of
the Chamber of Deputies, frequently backed by the liberal press.

Italy also distinguishes between political and common law offenders.
The former are entitled to all the privileges of custodia honesta[1]
which means they are allowed to wear their own clothes, work or not, as
they choose; if they do work, one half their earnings is given to them.
Their only penal obligation is silence during work, meals, school and
prayers. A friend of Sr. Serrati, the ex-editor of the Italian journal
Il Proletario, tells me that Serrati was a political prisoner during
the late war; that he was sentenced to three and a half years, but was
released at the end of six months, through pressure from the outside.
But while there, he was allowed to write an article a day for Avanti,
of which paper he was then an editor.

[1] Sigerson, pp. 154-5.


Even before the Franco-Prussian War German principalities recognized
political offenders as such. The practice continued after the
federation of German states through the Empire and up to the overthrow
of Kaiser Wilhelm. Politicals were held in “honorable custody” in
fortresses where they were deprived only of their liberty.

For revolutionary activities in Saxony in 1849, Bakunin[2] was
arrested, taken to a Cavalry Barracks and later to Koeriigstein
Fortress, where politicals were held. Here he was allowed to walk twice
daily under guard. He was allowed to receive books, he could converse
with his fellow prisoners and could write and receive numerous letters.
In a letter to a friend[3] he wrote that he was occupied in the study
of mathematics and English, and that he was “enjoying Shakespeare.” And
.. : . “they treat me with extraordinary humanness.”

[2] The Life of Michael Bakunin—Eine Biographie von Dr. Max Nettlau.
(Privately printed by the author. Fifty copies reproduced by the
autocopyist, Longhaus.)


[3] To Adolph R—— (the last name illegible) October 15, 1849.


Another letter to the same friend a month later said he was writing a
defense of his political views in “a comfortable room,” with “cigars
and food brought in from a nearby inn.” The death sentence was
pronounced against him in 1850 but commuted to imprisonment for life.
The same year he was extradited to Austria where the offense was
committed, then to Russia and on to Siberia in 1855, whence he escaped
in 1860 in an American ship.

In 1869 Bebell[1] received a sentence of three weeks in Leipzig
(contrast with Alice Paul’s seven months’ sentence) “for the
propagation of ideas dangerous to the state.” Later for high treason
based upon Social-Democratic agitation he was sentenced to two years in
a fortress. For lèse majesté he served nine months in Hubertusburg—a
fortress prison (in 1871). Here politicals were allowed to pay for the
cleaning of their cells, to receive food from a nearby inn, and were
allowed to eat together in the corridors. They were only locked in for
part of the time, and the rest of the time were allowed to walk in the
garden. They were permitted lights until ten at night; books; and could
receive and answer mail every day. Bebel received permission to share
cell quarters with the elder Lielr knecht (Wilhelm), then serving time
for his internationalism. He says that political prisoners were often
allowed a six weeks’ leave of absence between sentences; when finishing
one and beginning a second.

[1] My Life, August Bebel.


According to Sigerson, politicals in Austria also were absolved from
wearing prison clothes, might buy their own food and choose their work.
I am told the same régime prevailed in Hungary under Franz Joseph.

The new constitution of the German Republic adopted at Weimar July 31,
1919, provides that[2] “The President of the Republic shall exercise
for the. government the right of pardon .. . . . Government amnesties
require a national law.”

[2] Article 49.


In the Scandinavian countries there is no provision for special
consideration of political prisoners, although a proposed change in
Sweden’s penal laws now pending includes special treatment for them,
and in Denmark, although politicals are not recognized apart from other
prisoners, the people have just won an amnesty for all prisoners
convicted of political offense as I write. Neither Switzerland nor
Spain makes separate provision for politicals, although there are many
prisoners confined in their prisons for political offenses, especially
in Spain, where there are nearly always actually thousands in Monjuich.
Portugal also subjects political offenders to the same regime as
criminals.

Concerning Turkey and Bulgaria, I appealed to George Andreytchine, a
Bulgarian revolutionist who as protégé of King Ferdinand was educated
at Sofia and Constantinople, knowing his knowledge on this point would
be authentic. He writes: “Turkey, which is the most backward of all
modern states, recognized the status of political prisoners before
1895, or shortly after the Armenian massacres. Thousands of Bulgarian,
Greek, Armenian and Arabian insurgents, caught with Arms in their
hands, conspiring and actually in open rebellion against the Ottoman
Empire, were sentenced to exile or hard labor, but were never confined
in the same prisons with ordinary criminals and felons. They were put
in more hygienical prisons where they were allowed to read and write
and to breathe fresh air. Among some of my friends who were exiled to
Turkish Africa for rebellion was a young scholar, Paul Shateff, by
name, who while there wrote a remarkable monograph on the ethnology and
ethnography of the Arabian Tribes in which he incidentally tells of the
special treatment given him and his fellow exiles as political
prisoners.

“There is something to be said for the political wisdom of the Sultans.
Amnesty is an established practice, usually at the birthday of the
Sultan or the coming to power of a new Sultan, or on Ramadan[1], a
national holiday.

[1] The month (the ninth in the Mohammedan year) in which the first
part of the Koran is said to have been received.


“In 1908 when the young Turks assumed control of the government, all
political prisoners were released and cared for by the state. My friend
Paul Shateff was sent at state expense to Bruxelles to finish his
studies.

“Bulgaria, another one of those ‘backward countries,’ established the
political regime even earlier than Turkey. Politicals are allowed to
read, to write books or articles for publication, to receive food from
outside, and are periodically released on amnesty.”

And now we come to England. In general England, too, give’s political
offenders much lighter sentences than does America, but, except in
isolated cases, she treats them no better. She does not recognize them
as political prisoners. If they are distinguished prisoners like Dr.
Jamison, who was permitted to serve the sentence imposed upon him for
leading an armed raid into the Transvaal in 1895, in a luxuriously
furnished suite, to provide himself with books, a piano, and such food
as he chose, and to receive his friends, special dispensation is
allowed; or like William Cobbett, who was imprisoned for writing an
alleged treasonable article in his journal, The Register, in 1809; or
Leigh Hunt for maligning the Prince Regent who, he believed, broke his
promise to the Irish cause; Daniel O’Connell and six associates in 1844
for “seditious activity”; John Mitchell, who in 1848 was sent to
Bermuda and then to Van Dieman’s Land.[2] These British prisoners,
while not proclaimed as politicals, did receive special privileges.[3]

[2]English penal colony in Tasmania.


[3]For details of their handsome treatment see Sigerson, pp. 19–20,


More recently Bertrand Russell, the distinguished man of letters who
served sixty-one days in lieu of payment of fine for writing a pamphlet
intended to arouse public indignation against the treatment of a
certain conscientious objector, received special privileges. In England
the matter of treatment rests largely with the will of the Prime
Minister, who dictates the policy to the Home Secretary, who in turn
directs the Chairman of the Board of Directors of Prisons. The Home
Secretary may, however, of his own accord issue an order for special
privileges if he so desires, or if there is a strong demand for such an
order. Many government commissions and many distinguished British
statesmen have recommended complete recognition and guarantee of the
status of political prisoners, but the matter has been left to common
law custom and precedent, and the character of the prime minister. In
the case of Ireland the policy agreed upon is carried out by the Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland.

It is difficult to generalize about England’s treatment of Irish
political offenders. From the earliest nationalist activities she has
treated them practically all as common criminals, or worse, if such a
thing is possible. She has either filled English prisons, or, as in the
sixties, put them in convict ships and sent them to Bermuda and
Australia for life sentences along with common convicts where they
performed the hardest labor.. Irish prisoners have fought with signal
and persistent courage for the rights due political offenders. Lately,
after militant demonstrations within the prisons and after deaths
resulting from concerted hunger striking protests, some additional
privileges have been extended. But these can be and are withheld at
will. There is no guarantee of them.

As early as 1885 Canadian nationalists who had taken part in an
insurrection in Upper Canada on behalf of self-government and who were
sent to Van Dieman’s Land in convict ships, entered a vigorous protest
to Lord Russell, the Home Secretary, against not receiving the
treatment due political prisoners.

England has to her credit, then, some flexibility about extending
privileges to politicals. We have none. England has to her credit
lighter sentences—Irish cases excepted. No country, not excluding
imperial Germany, has ever given such cruelly long sentences to
political offenders as did America during the late war.

I have incorporated this discussion in such a book for two reasons:
first, because it seemed to me important that you should know what a
tremendous contribution the suffrage prisoners made toward this
enlightened reform. They were the first in America to make a sustained
demand to establish this precedent which others will consummate. They
kept up the demand to the end of the prison episode, reinforcing it by
the hunger strike protest. The other reason for including this
discussion here is that it seems to me imperative that America
recognize without further delay the status of political offenders. As
early as 1872 the International Prison Congress meeting in London
recommended a distinction in the treatment of common law criminals and
politicals, and the resolution was agreed upon by the representatives
of all the Powers of Europe and America with the tacit concurrence of
British and Irish officials. And still we are behind Turkey in adopting
an enlightened policy. We have neither regulation, statute nor
precedent. Nor have we the custom of official flexibility.

Note—The most conspicuous political prisoner from the point of view of
actual power the United States has ever held in custody was Jefferson
Davis, the President of the Confederate States, during the rebellion of
the South against the Union. He was imprisoned in Fortress Monroe and
subjected to the most cruel and humiliating treatment conceivable. For
details of his imprisonment see the graphic account given in “Jefferson
Davis—A Memoir” by his wife, Vol. II, pp. 653-95.