Giant Steps Page 4

  Basketball was created in 1891 and a year later the rules and game were modified for women. The sport quickly became popular among young women in high school and college. Instead of shorts, the girls wore baggy, knee-length pants called bloomers. (Indiana University Archives Collections (P0027261))

  Everybody, especially Papa, knew how important sons were. A man needed sons to take over his business someday. Of course, Uncle Leroy didn’t really have a business—at least he didn’t have a big store to run like Papa. Uncle Leroy had a small place downtown on the square where he repaired watches, clocks, and anything else with gears and working parts. However, in spite of the fact that he fixed timepieces, Uncle Leroy didn’t keep regular hours like Papa did. He opened his repair shop only when he felt like it. He was considered something of a genius at making mechanical things work. Townsfolk would wait willingly until he opened his doors for business. If they were really desperate, they would go all the way out to the Mifflin farm to take their watch or clock for him to fix. Papa would shake his head in dismay and say, “Just imagine what would happen if I ran my store that way.”

  Uncle Leroy had inherited the Mifflin farm just as Papa had inherited his store from his father. Unfortunately, Uncle Leroy had no interest in farming. He would much rather be in his barn tinkering with some “crackpot” invention, as Papa referred to them. Papa had no use for such impracticality. Uncle Leroy made a deal with a neighboring farmer to plant the Mifflin fields. When the man harvested them, he and Uncle Leroy split the money paid for the crop.

  Aunt Lolly was as unusual as Uncle Leroy. She didn’t go to literary gatherings or nice ladylike teas of the kind Mother and Grandmother Epperson attended. Instead, Aunt Lolly belonged to several groups that were busy trying to reform what they considered society’s problems. Papa said she was a meddler. Bernie noticed that Mother just clamped her lips tightly closed when Papa ranted about the activities of her brother and his wife.

  Bernie saw herself as not at all like her mother. Mother was very proper, while Bernie considered herself to be sort of a tomboy. Of course, she was not an athlete the way Alice was with team sports. Instead, Bernie could climb a tree like a monkey and loved to sit up in the branches where no one could see her. There, in her leafy hideaway, she could observe people coming and going. Her tree climbing had been somewhat curtailed, however, since the humiliation of the “great kitten rescue,” as Ben and Nick laughingly referred to it. Bernie also liked to run up and down the hilly area near the ravine, with her hair blowing free rather than in neat braids. Mother and Papa both frowned on that kind of behavior.

  “People will think we’ve raised a young colt and not a young lady,” Mother said.

  Bernie paid no attention. She risked life and limb—her own and other people’s—as she hurtled down Union Street hill on roller skates. Whenever she could persuade the boys to take her along, she liked to swim in the Wabash. She glowed with pride when Jack said she was the best of all of them at rowing a boat and making it go in a straight line instead of zigzagging.

  The summer of the broken arm, however, was the summer that Bernie learned to read. It was not that she did not know how to read before that time. She had always devoured books such as Little Women, The Secret Garden, and A Girl of the Limberlost. But this summer she learned from Alice how to read with discernment. Alice told her that to read in this way meant asking questions about what you were reading; she said it was like having a conversation with the author in your head.

  “Have you ever asked yourself what you like about the books you choose to read?” Alice had asked.

  Bernie didn’t have to think for a moment, “I like Little Women because I don’t have a sister. I think it would be fun to have three of them.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “Which of the sisters in the book is your favorite character?”

  Bernie didn’t have to stop a minute to think before saying, “Jo.”

  “Of course, she is,” Alice agreed. “Jo’s everyone’s favorite. But why do you like her so much?”

  “Jo does things. She’s different. She’s brave. She gets into trouble sometimes. She wants to do things that people tell her she should not do because she is a girl.”

  “Right… and she opens doors that most people are afraid to open.”

  Bernie thought about that for a moment to let it sink in. “In the book, The Secret Garden, Mary Lennox opened the door to a secret garden and helped a boy get well.”

  “What about A Girl of the Limberlost?” Alice wanted to know.

  “Elnora Comstock was different from other girls, too. She didn’t fit in and act the way other girls did. She discovered wonderful things about nature and life.”

  That summer, Bernie began to enjoy books that she would never have been interested in before. Alice loaned her a copy of Harriet, The Moses of Her People, a biography of Harriet Tubman, a slave who escaped her master and fled to the North to be free. Tubman had then risked her life by returning to the South time and time again, leading more than three hundred other slaves to freedom.

  Bernie also surprised herself by reading the Daily Courier every day, just as Papa did. In spite of the fact that Bernie told everyone she wanted to be a journalist like Nellie Bly, she usually only glanced at the newspaper occasionally. Or, she simply scanned the headlines, trying to find an article for a report when her teacher had the class share current events. Now Bernie began reading the paper from the beginning to the last page, where there was a full-page advertisement for Epperson’s Emporium that was selling ladies’ dresses for $2.50 and mattresses for $10.75.

  At first, it wasn’t exactly true that she read every page. Bernie skipped the help wanted ads until one day when Alice pointed out that some interesting facts could be found there. “Did you notice that most of the jobs listed for women are for housekeepers and cooks, seamstresses, or people to take care of children?”

  Bernie was not the only one who was surprised at her new-found interest in the newspaper. Papa was even more surprised, as well as a bit concerned, when his daughter wanted to discuss some of the articles in the paper with him. She read aloud one article under the headline, “Denver Girls Will Be Taught How to Be Good Wives.”

  “Listen to this,” Bernie read, “All females twelve years of age and older are eligible to take this course. They will be instructed in various household duties and child-raising. Proper respect for husbands will also be an important part of the curriculum.” There was another article about how working women were ruining the family. Papa had misgivings about Bernie’s growing curiosity.

  Bernie noticed that Papa had a strange habit when he read the newspaper. He would clear his throat when he found something especially interesting. It was usually something about business or politics. He cleared his throat a lot when he read about what was happening in Europe, something he had been interested in ever since Germany declared war on France two years before in August 1914. He muttered under his breath about “their confounded foreign wars.” When he found something that upset him, he would rattle the paper as though he could change the words by shaking them out.

  Bernie learned even more interesting things under Alice’s influence. When she was reading a book about women who struggled against injustice, she discovered that the Mifflin girls were all named for famous women. Lizzie was named after Elizabeth Cady Stanton, a woman who spoke out against slavery and who called for women to have the right to vote. Her sister’s name, Peggy, was a nickname for Margaret. Peggy was named in honor of Margaret Sanger, who fought for women’s rights. The youngest Mifflin sister, Susie, was named for Susan B. Anthony, another woman who fought for women to have the right to vote. The big puzzle was Alice’s name. When Bernie asked her about it, Alice smiled and said, “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  Bernie asked Lizzie about Alice’s name. She was certain to learn the answer since Lizzie simply could not keep a secret. But
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know. Nobody will tell me either.” Bernie made up her mind that she would figure it out if she had to read every biography in the public library.

  Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815–1902), seated, and Susan B. Anthony (1820–1906), standing, were early suffragists, who worked for women to have the right to vote. They began working together in 1851. In 1869, they founded the National Woman Suffrage Association. (Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, LC-USZ61-791)

  The summer turned out to be a surprisingly busy one. The girls went on picnics. They played with the new kittens in the Mifflin’s barn. In July Alice drove Bernie and Lizzie out to a field where the boys were setting off fireworks. They went to the county fair where Ben got a blue ribbon for a photograph of Sheppie. They went to the carnival when it came to town.

  The doctor removed the cast from Bernie’s arm in early August. She was shocked to see how withered her arm looked. The puckered skin hung loosely; it was a disgusting grayish color. When that peeled away it revealed pink raw-looking patches of skin underneath.

  “You look like a lizard losing its skin,” Lizzie said.

  The doctor assured Bernie that her skin was normal and she would be just fine. However, he added, “It is possible that your elbow may always be a bit stiff and your arm may never unbend completely. You also might have a bit of discomfort whenever the weather gets cold.”

  At first, Bernie was very protective of the arm because she was afraid of injuring it again. When Alice invited everyone to the farm for a swim in the pond, Bernie went but did not risk getting into the water. Nick and Ben were splashing and dunking everyone who came near them. She found a log to sit on where she could dabble her feet safely in the cool water. Jack came to sit beside her. “If you want to swim, I’ll go with you down to the far end of the pond. I promise I won’t let anyone come near you.”

  “I’m okay, Bernie said. “I don’t feel much like swimming.”

  “Neither do I. We can just sit here together.”

  Bernie stood up abruptly. “I’ve got to go now. I forgot that I promised Aunt Lolly I’d help her make the lemonade.”

  As she walked toward the farmhouse, she thought it was strange that Jack would want to sit on a log with her and talk instead of playing with the boys. Then she remembered that Jack never did seem to like to swim when other people were around. She once asked Nick why Jack always wore a shirt when he did go in the water.

  “I guess it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to see his back.”

  “Why not?” Bernie wanted to know.

  “I suppose it’s because of all of his scars,” Nick said. Then, suddenly realizing that he’d told her something he shouldn’t have, he reached out and grabbed Bernie firmly by both shoulders and glared at her. “Don’t you ever dare say a word to anyone about what I told you! Not a word to anyone.”

  Bernie stared right back at him. “What makes you think I would tell anyone about that?”

  She wanted to ask Nick if he had ever seen the scars and knew what had caused them. She thought she could guess. Jack’s father always made him work hard and yelled at him a lot. Maybe he was rough on him in other ways.

  Indeed, it was a summer for learning new things—surprising new things. It also turned out to be a time for opening unexpected doors. She wondered if this would continue and what those doors might be.

  4

  August 1916

  Strange Doors Swing Open

  One afternoon in early August, Bernie and Lizzie were shopping for school clothes. The heat seemed to shimmer on the sidewalks. The girls’ faces glistened with perspiration, and the packages Bernie carried seemed to weigh a ton. They hurried into Graeber’s Soda Shop on the corner of the courthouse square. It felt good to put down their shopping bags beneath the wrought iron chairs and rest their hot arms on the cold marble slab of the small round table.

  “Do you think your father will let you have that mohair coat you want?” Lizzie asked. “I know it’s terribly expensive, but I suppose things like that don’t matter if your father owns the store.”

  “That’s not what Papa says. I still have to be careful what I buy,” Bernie said. “But I have outgrown last year’s coat, so he might let me have it for my birthday later this month.”

  Bernie ordered her favorite cherry phosphate soda and Lizzie had a sarsaparilla.

  “I’d give anything if I could take off my shoes and stockings and walk home in my bare feet,” said Bernie.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Lizzie’s eyes widened with shock.

  “No, of course I wouldn’t. That would not be a proper thing for a respectable young lady to do, would it? Of course, my brothers can go barefoot and no one says a word. You go barefoot out at the farm.”

  “Yes, I do, but only out at the farm with just my sisters around.”

  Soda shops, or soda fountains, were places for people of all ages to socialize and enjoy ice cream, malts, shakes, and fountain drinks. Bernie and Lizzie would have enjoyed their sodas at a store much like the one in this 1910 photograph. (Atlanta History Photograph Collection, Kenan Research Center at the Atlanta History Center)

  The screen door hinge squeaked and Alice came in, pulled up a chair next to them, sighed, and plopped a stack of papers on the seat of the extra chair.

  “What have you been doing all afternoon?” Bernie asked.

  “I’ve been helping Mama get some information sheets put together so we can hand them out at the next meeting of the Lafayette Franchise League.” Then she turned to Bernie, “Why don’t you come with us to the meeting next Tuesday evening?”

  Bernie had never heard the word “franchise.” “What in the world is that?” she asked.

  Alice replied, “They work for women’s suffrage.”

  Here was another word that Bernie didn’t know. “What does that mean? It sounds painful.”

  “I guess some people would think that word appropriate. The very thought of it seems to bother a lot of men,” Alice laughed.

  Lizzie piped up and said, “Suffrage has to do with women getting the vote.”

  “Why don’t they just say vote?” Bernie huffed, even more upset that this was yet another word that her cousin Lizzie knew that she did not. “Will the meeting be fun?” Bernie wanted to know.

  “That depends upon your definition of fun,” Lizzie said.

  “I think it’s going to be exciting. I can hardly wait,” Alice said. “There is going to be a special speaker from England. Here, you can read about her in this issue of our paper.” She picked up one of the sheets from the stack on the chair and handed it to Bernie.

  Bernie suspected that such a meeting was going to be boring, but she decided to attend anyway. At least it would be something to do, and it was another opportunity to go somewhere with Alice in the automobile. She could usually count on something unusual happening when she was with Alice.

  However, on the following Tuesday when she entered the meeting hall, Bernie was disappointed when she looked around. Other than Lizzie, no one else her age was there. She didn’t see a person she really knew except the town librarian. Of course Aunt Lolly was there with Alice, but most of the chairs were filled with women she’d never seen. She was surprised to see a few men in the audience, too, but she did not know any of them either.

  As Aunt Lolly started to take her seat beside them, she looked up and waved to someone in the far corner of the room. “Oh, look. There’s Emily. I’m so glad she has finally decided to come to one of our meetings. You girls stay here. I’m going to sit in the back with her so that she won’t feel all alone.”

  Bernie turned and saw Aunt Lolly headed toward a woman dressed in a shabby black coat. She wore a battered felt hat with stringy ribbons that tied under her chin. Bernie leaned over and whispered in Alice’s ear, “Who in the world is that? She doesn’t look li
ke the kind of person who would attend a meeting like this.”

  “She’s exactly the kind of woman who should come to a meeting like this.” Alice said. Bernie thought there was a bit of a sharp edge to her cousin’s words. “Mama has been trying to get her to come for a long time.”

  “Well, she must feel out of place. Most of the people here are decently dressed. Her hat looks like something taken from a scarecrow. I’m surprised she would have the nerve to wear it out in public.”

  Alice said, “It is probably the only hat she owns. I’m glad she didn’t let false pride keep her from being here tonight. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her to come this evening.”

  “What do you mean?” Bernie asked.

  “I mean that life is very difficult for her. She married when she was quite young. Mama thinks she just wanted an excuse to move out of her father’s house. He’s a very unpleasant man. Her husband worked on the railroad but was killed in an accident about a year ago, leaving her to care for their two young children. Her oldest child is sickly and can do very little for himself. After her husband died, they had no place to go except back home to live with her father and her younger brother. She does a bit of sewing for people to earn money to help pay doctor bills for her son. Her world might be a lot better if women had the vote.”

  “How do you know so much about her?” Bernie wanted to know.

  “She’s a friend of my mother,” Alice said, and then added, “I’m surprised you don’t know her.”

  Bernie twisted her head and looked back at the woman again. There was a familiar look about her, but she didn’t think she had ever seen her before. “Why should I know her?”