Giant Steps Page 11
Papa said nothing more, but she could guess what he was thinking. It came as a dreadful shock. She wondered if he still thought of Ben and Nick as little boys, too, but knew in his heart how fast they were growing into young men. Young men were always the ones who were sent away to fight in wars. Suddenly, Bernie was frightened for her brothers. Although she set that terrible thought aside for the moment, she determined from now on to be nicer to them.
Bernie wanted to offer a word of comfort to her father. She remembered some of those voices that had been raised at the first league meeting Aunt Rose had attended. That had also been the night they planned their march in Washington.
She said, “Lots of people in the Lafayette Franchise League are concerned with peace, too. Maybe if more people work together we can make it happen.”
“I hope you are right, Bernie. I pray you are right.”
Bernie looked up and saw Mother standing in the doorway. She smiled in their direction.
Bernie was determined to do everything in her power to help bring some peace into Papa’s life. However, Papa found very little peace and quiet as he read his newspapers. Bernie thought there was a decided increase in him rustling pages. He seemed to be clearing his throat more often. He was especially upset about news of American merchant marine ships being sunk by German U-boats.
On May 7, 1915, a German submarine (called a U-boat) torpedoed and sunk the British passenger ship, Lusitania. Nearly all of the 2,000 passengers perished, including at least 123 Americans. Germany agreed to suspend bombing of passenger ships and merchant vessels in May 1916, but in February the following year it reinstated its policy of unrestricted submarine warfare. Germany sank many U.S. ships in the coming months. (Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, LC-DIG-ds-02738)
Apparently Papa was not the only one in town upset by the news reports. One afternoon, as Bernie walked home from school, she happened to see Edna Schmidt’s granddaughter sitting on a curbstone, crying bitterly. Bernie paused and knelt beside the child. She put her arm around the little girl and asked what was wrong.
“They threw rocks at me,” Angelina wailed.
Bernie looked around and didn’t see anyone. “Who threw rocks at you?”
“Some big boys. Then they ran away.”
“Why would they throw rocks at you?”
Angelina sniffed and said haltingly between hiccups, “They said my grandfather is a dirty Hun.”
Bernie dried the child’s eyes with her handkerchief. “Come with me,” she said as she lifted the little girl onto her feet and took her hand.
She led the child two blocks to Graeber’s Soda Shop. Inside she helped Angelina climb up onto a stool and asked, “What kind of ice cream would make you feel better?”
“Strawberry.” As Angelina licked at her cone, she continued to whimper softly.
Mr. Graeber asked sympathetically, “What makes the child cry so?”
Bernie signaled that he should move further down the counter out of the little girl’s hearing.
Bernie whispered, “Some boys threw rocks at her because they said her grandfather is a Hun. She has no idea what that word means.”
Mr. Graeber’s eyes narrowed into angry slits. “So, this is what it will be like for those of us who have a German name,” he said. This war that is surely coming will bring on terrible casualties. Casualties of the body as well as of the spirit. No one will be safe. Even little children will have to suffer.”
“I know a lot of people in this town have a bad opinion of Mr. Schmidt, but to take it out on a child is not fair,” Bernie said.
“It is true, he is a not-so-nice person,” Mr. Graeber replied. “But, did you know that Mr. Schmidt did not become a drinking man until after he came home from the Civil War? He was a Union soldier. I read in the papers that he had been awarded a medal for bravery. Who knows what happened during the war that changed him into what he has become? And so, these young hoodlums tell themselves they are heroes because they throw rocks at his little granddaughter. They tell her that he is a dirty Hun—a German.”
Mr. Graeber shook his head. Bernie didn’t know if it was more in disgust or sorrow. He turned and walked slowly back into the storeroom at the rear of his shop.
Bernie went back and sat on the stool beside Angelina until the child finished her ice cream. Bernie wiped the remains of it from the little girl’s face. Then she took Angelina’s hand in hers and walked her home.
12
March 1917
March Roars Out Like A Lion
Bernie got only as far as the front entryway before her father burst out of the kitchen and saw her. She had tried to be very quiet so that he would not hear her leave the house this evening. He had been trying to read the evening edition of a newspaper, and he still held one dripping page in his hand. The entire paper was still a soggy mess, despite the best efforts of Bernie and her mother. They had opened it up and spread the pages out all over the kitchen. Every flat surface, including the chairs, was covered with papers. The oven had been lit and the door opened in an attempt to hurry the drying process.
Bernie didn’t know which made Papa more agitated, the soggy paper or the distressing news that filled every edition lately. Or, he might have been upset by the fact that today’s weather had suddenly turned very unpleasant. An electrical storm had caused the street car, which he usually rode to and from work, to be shut down for the day. This meant splashing all the way home from the store in a fierce downpour. His shoes were soaked, and he was sneezing.
As he walked home, the wind had caught the underside of his umbrella and turned it inside out. Two of the ribs were broken, and it collapsed. The poor bedraggled mess was now lying by the front door where he had tossed it in disgust. Without an umbrella he and his newspaper were both soaked by the miserable, sleety, late March rain.
Bernie could not help but think that if only Mother knew how to drive the auto, she could have gone to get him. But of course, Mother did not know how to drive. Papa saw no need for any woman to drive an automobile.
Knowing all of this and understanding full well that Papa still did not approve of her attending the Lafayette Franchise League meetings, Bernie had tiptoed around getting ready to go to the courthouse this evening. She knew that going would only make him more upset. However, despite her best efforts at evasion, Papa caught her at the bottom of the hall stairs.
“What do you think you are doing?” Papa demanded. “Nobody has any business being out on a night like this. I want you to stay home.”
“But, Papa, there is a very special meeting tonight. I cannot miss this meeting for the world,” Bernie pleaded. How could she make him understand that she needed to be part of this historic gathering?
Papa wanted to know what made tonight so special.
“The meeting is for women to come together so they can learn how to vote.”
“Why would you need to learn how to vote?” he muttered. “You are only fourteen years of age.”
She could not take the time to explain this to him. “I’ve got to hurry, Papa. Aunt Lolly will be here for me soon in her auto.”
“You would be better off staying home and doing your homework. You’re spending far too much of your time at that suffrage league.”
Bernie was spared the need to plead any further when Mother came to the kitchen door. “Dear, I think there are a few more pages dry enough for you to read. Do come and sit down. I’ll make a cup of hot tea for you.”
Papa stomped out of the room and back into the kitchen. Bernie fled through the front door before he could stop her.
In February 1917 the Indiana General Assembly passed the Maston–McKinley Bill, also known as the “Partial Suffrage Act,” designed to give Indiana women the legal right to vote for “presidential electors, members of [U.S.] Congress, for all statutory officers and on questions except constitutio
nal amendments.” Hoosier women around the state registered to vote, and many of them learned about citizenship, the U.S. and state constitutions, voting procedures, and other important topics at meetings such as the one held at the Lafayette Franchise League. However, the law was declared unconstitutional by the Indiana Supreme Court in October of the same year. (“Maston–McKinley Bill,” Senate Bill 77, Indiana General Assembly Senate Bills, 1917, Indiana State Archives Collections)
The courthouse room where the meeting was scheduled to take place was packed when Bernie, Aunt Rose, Alice, Lizzie, and Aunt Lolly arrived. Despite the terrible weather, women had come out in large groups. Everyone was trying to find a place to sit. An announcement was made that a bigger room would be opened, and the meeting would be moved. Aunt Lolly led the way and they managed to find seats together. More people continued to arrive. Before long, every seat was filled. A side room had to be opened to take care of the overflow.
Aunt Lolly said, “If men are still under the delusion that women are not interested in being able to vote, this turnout ought to change their minds.”
Bernie was surprised at all the people she saw there. There were some she knew from the league meetings, but there were as many or more who were unfamiliar. Aunt Lolly and Aunt Rose pointed out that the crowd was made up of women from all walks of life. High society women were there as well as many others. Some were mothers of Bernie’s school friends who stayed home to run the household during the day. Several attendees were teachers. There was a woman who worked in the ladies department of Papa’s store. There were women who cleaned houses for other women. Some tended to the children of women who spent their time at volunteer work and literary meetings. Even Edna Schmidt and Emily Kennedy had come out in this drenching downpour.
When the clock struck seven, Bernie felt a tremor of excitement. There was an expectant hush as the full import of the moment swept over the crowded courtrooms. She was certain it was a moment all of them would remember for the rest of their lives.
At last, the meeting was called to order. A public official named Mr. Dumfries began to explain the voting procedures. He told them when and where they would vote. Many of the women took notes. Several of them asked questions. When he said that women’s votes would have to be kept in separate ballot boxes from those of the men, there was a disquieting buzz from the audience.
“What is the reason for that?” one of the women called out from the back.
“It is because there are thousands of women in this county who are eligible to vote. First, we do not want an important election to be considered void if the Indiana Supreme Court decides that it is, after all, unconstitutional for the women of Indiana to vote. Second, since women have only been given partial suffrage, all offices up for election will not be included on women’s ballots.”
Aunt Lolly whispered, “I guess the battle is not over yet.”
Mr. Dumfries said, “Unless anyone else has a question, that takes care of the official business.”
A woman who had been seated near the front of the hall stood. “Before you leave, I would like to tell you a true story and then I am going to make a proposal.” She put on eyeglasses in order to read from a paper she held. It rustled in her shaking hands. Her voice was quavering at first, but gained strength as she continued to read.
“More than twenty years ago, Helen Gougar, a well-known woman in our city, decided to take her stand for women’s rights. On election day, she went to the polling place. She asked the man in charge for a ballot. When he refused to give one to her, she demanded to know why she was denied the right to vote, stating, ‘I am a citizen of the United States of America.’
“The official answered, ‘We cannot give you a ballot because you are not a legal voter, being a woman.’”
The woman reading her paper paused and took a deep breath before she said, “Therefore, I think it is only right that the same man, who once denied the vote to that esteemed and well-educated woman, should be named elections inspector. He should be assigned to the very same precinct where this outrage was committed. Let him be the one who now has to hand out ballots to women. He must let them do what that good woman was prevented from doing. Then justice will truly have been done.”
Women’s voices began to call out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
The audience began to sing, “Glory, Glory Hallelujah.” Bernie wondered what Papa and Mother would have thought if they could have heard that.
Helen Gougar (1843–1907) was a suffragist and the first female lawyer in Lafayette, Indiana. Gougar had planned her attempt to vote with the election board in November 1894. Her attempt was done as a means to test the constitutionality of the voting laws. She was denied a ballot and subsequently sued and took her case to court. (Tippecanoe County Historical Association Collections, Lafayette, Indiana)
Mr. Dumfries closed the meeting, stating, “Some men say that a woman’s place is in the home and not in the voting booth. I strongly suggest to all the women here tonight to get their spring cleaning done early. That way the diligent housewife can reply that it is all right for her to be there and vote because her housework is all done.”
Mr. Dumfries paused. Was he waiting for laughter? Bernie thought he looked overly pleased by his pitiful attempt at humor. Perhaps he thought he would get a round of applause. What he got, instead, was stony silence.
After a moment, a woman’s loud voice uttered an indignant, “Humpf!”
Bernie wanted to turn and see who it was but dared not. Then, the woman continued in clear resounding tones, “I have never heard of any man being told his place was at his job and not in the voting booth. No one tells a man he cannot vote until his work is done at his store or in his office. I have never heard of a farmer being told he could not engage in politics until his crops were all in. Yet you, sir, think it is amusing to tell women to get their housework done before they vote.”
Applause began as a ripple and then became a roar like the rolling thunder outside the building. Mr. Dumfries stood with his mouth open, his ears glowing red in embarrassment, and then he turned to make his escape from the meeting in a hurry. Mr. Dumfries got his applause all right, but not the way he expected.
On the way home, Bernie said to Aunt Lolly, “Well, I guess we have won at last, haven’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that women in Indiana, Illinois, New York, and I forget how many other states now have the vote. There’s nothing left for us to do.”
“As a matter of fact,” Aunt Lolly said, “it means that we shall have to work all the harder until all our sisters in every state can vote. Women’s right to vote must become a part of the U.S. Constitution. Plus, in Indiana we still can’t vote for all elected offices. We only received partial suffrage under the bill that was passed. This means we still can’t vote for governor, secretary of state, state treasurer, U.S. senators or representatives, or to ratify constitutional amendments.”
These maps from 1869, 1909, and 1917 show the expansion of women’s suffrage over a nearly fifty-year period. Notice the question mark under Indiana’s suffrage date. Even though Indiana’s General Assembly passed a partial suffrage bill and Governor James P. Goodrich signed it into law, the law was declared unconstitutional by the Indiana Supreme Court. (Gift of League of Women Voters of Indiana, Indiana Historical Society Collections)
The storm was still raging when Bernie arrived home after the meeting. She saw Papa sitting in the parlor in the dark. He had waited up for her. When she entered, he said, “I see you are home safely.” Then he went upstairs without another word. He seemed to be carrying a heavy load.
After all of the evening’s excitement, Bernie found it hard to sleep that night. She crept down to the kitchen to make a cup of warm cocoa. A few remaining pages of Papa’s damp newspaper were spread over the table and chairs drying out. As she waited for the milk to heat, Bernie glanced at the headlines. Pa
pa was right to be concerned. The czar of Russia and his family had been exiled to Siberia by revolutionaries. Ireland was in turmoil with its own revolution against England. The German government was trying to convince Mexico to rise up against the United States. In exchange for its cooperation, Germany was promising to return some of America’s southwest territory to Mexico. No wonder Papa had been in such a mood!
The Zimmermann Telegram was sent in code from German Foreign Minister Arthur Zimmermann to the German Minister to Mexico in January 1917. British cryptographers, people who make and break codes, decoded this telegram and sent it to U.S. President Woodrow Wilson in late February. The telegram recommended an alliance between Mexico and Germany against the United States. If successful, Germany promised to give Mexico the parts of the United States that Mexico had lost in the Mexican–American War: Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. The Zimmermann Telegram helped draw the United States into war with Germany. (Zimmerman Telegram as Received by the German Minister to Mexico, 01/19/1917, Central Decimal File 1910–1929, File 862.2012/82A, Record Group 59: General Records of the Department of State, 1756–1979, National Archives and Records Administration Collections)
As Bernie drank her cocoa, she read a brief article with a bold headline:
April is the Month of War
Superstitious people, and some who are not superstitious but merely observing, are pointing to the fact that with the exception of the war with England in 1812, foreign wars in which the United States has been involved, started during the month of April. The War of the Revolution began April 19, 1775, at Concord and Lexington. The War with Mexico began April 24, 1846. War was declared against Spain April 21, 1898. Now in order to add force to this statement, let it be considered that the civil war began with the Fort Sumpter attack April 12, 1861, and the Black Hawk war, the greatest conflict with Indian forces, began April 21, 1831. The first of April is at hand. —