the Nashville train station as promised by our suffrage leader, Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt. And, as expected, Eunice appeared solemn and stern, severe bun and the part in her gray hair so straight as to look painful. She had been part of Mama’s original
Ladies Legion
and Mama had told me years ago that Eunice was a divorced woman whose two children were lost to her husband’s custody. But this slice of her life did not fit into her demeanor at all and I always pondered this when in her presence. She never spoke of this part of her past with me, but then her divorce was more than ten years before, and her children would be grown by now. No, Eunice did not look like a mother, but could only be imagined with pen and paper in hand, not holding a child’s hand. These thoughts were only my own, of course.
We arrived in front of the State Legislature building amidst a mass of people, motor cars, horses, policemen, reporters, cameras - utter chaos. The street was packed with sounds, smells, and slogans. The sultry air was charged with rumors flashing like lightening. Everyone jostled and pushed, verbally pummeling each other. The anti-suffragists had also flooded into Nashville to lobby the General Assembly and they took their mandate as seriously as we suffragists did. Eunice and fellow suffragists who had arrived a few days earlier had been lobbying, passing out flyers, meeting with reporters, and ultimately in the face of anyone showing the slightest bit of interest.
We squeezed our way through until we reached inside the large hall. There by the door, tables were displayed, suffrage and the anti-suffrage, yellow roses on one, red roses on the other. The signs told me readily which I should choose and a yellow rose was pinned tomy jacket lapel. Those wearing the red glared at me openly, as I did them. Black looks were part of the warfare yet I found it ridiculous and ironic that those I glared at were women like myself, but were misled into believing that suffrage - meaning the right to vote - was not in their best interest. Ignorant women!
Eunice led me to our suffragist leader, Mrs. Catt, waiting outside the Senate chamber with many others of our own. Mrs. Catt was noticeably nervous, her exact measures of calm and strength almost visibly quivering. Her smile came and went as she shook my hand too firmly, thanked me for coming and then stated, with some deprivation in her tone that this moment was exactly why she did not rejoice when the Nineteenth Amendment was passed by the House and Senate.
“They are in a tie, ladies. Many of the legislators on our side have fled the coop, either out of town, or to the opposition. The anti’s knew this and moved to table the Amendment, thinking their votes would win, but they had miscounted. The political maneuvering is continuing amongst them and then they shall vote again. All we can do is stand helplessly to the side and wait.”
And that is what we did. We entered the side door to the engorged chamber, two hundred men or so sitting or standing in its center, the woman’s future in their arena. Lines of women standing around its periphery, out of bounds, out of control. We watched, whispered, and waited while these well-suited gentlemen, their lapelled roses picking sides, waved their arms high, while keeping their voices low, mingling, meshing, speaking their superior minds. It appeared from where I stood, that the red roses prevailed. I could understand the anti’s rationale that they had more than a chance.
“We are in for a fine agitation,” I said and Mrs. Catt and Eunice tittered stiffly at my timely usage of Susan B. Anthony’s popular quote.
“Yes, indeed we – ” Mrs. Catt moved aside as much as possible to allow a gentleman into our tiny circle, people bumping our backsides. “Miss Wright, let me introduce you to Mr. Jere Phillips. Jere has proven to be an excellent activist on our behalf, as well as mydriver and protector years ago. Mr. Phillips, this is our
Ladies Legion
and Mama had told me years ago that Eunice was a divorced woman whose two children were lost to her husband’s custody. But this slice of her life did not fit into her demeanor at all and I always pondered this when in her presence. She never spoke of this part of her past with me, but then her divorce was more than ten years before, and her children would be grown by now. No, Eunice did not look like a mother, but could only be imagined with pen and paper in hand, not holding a child’s hand. These thoughts were only my own, of course.
We arrived in front of the State Legislature building amidst a mass of people, motor cars, horses, policemen, reporters, cameras - utter chaos. The street was packed with sounds, smells, and slogans. The sultry air was charged with rumors flashing like lightening. Everyone jostled and pushed, verbally pummeling each other. The anti-suffragists had also flooded into Nashville to lobby the General Assembly and they took their mandate as seriously as we suffragists did. Eunice and fellow suffragists who had arrived a few days earlier had been lobbying, passing out flyers, meeting with reporters, and ultimately in the face of anyone showing the slightest bit of interest.
We squeezed our way through until we reached inside the large hall. There by the door, tables were displayed, suffrage and the anti-suffrage, yellow roses on one, red roses on the other. The signs told me readily which I should choose and a yellow rose was pinned tomy jacket lapel. Those wearing the red glared at me openly, as I did them. Black looks were part of the warfare yet I found it ridiculous and ironic that those I glared at were women like myself, but were misled into believing that suffrage - meaning the right to vote - was not in their best interest. Ignorant women!
Eunice led me to our suffragist leader, Mrs. Catt, waiting outside the Senate chamber with many others of our own. Mrs. Catt was noticeably nervous, her exact measures of calm and strength almost visibly quivering. Her smile came and went as she shook my hand too firmly, thanked me for coming and then stated, with some deprivation in her tone that this moment was exactly why she did not rejoice when the Nineteenth Amendment was passed by the House and Senate.
“They are in a tie, ladies. Many of the legislators on our side have fled the coop, either out of town, or to the opposition. The anti’s knew this and moved to table the Amendment, thinking their votes would win, but they had miscounted. The political maneuvering is continuing amongst them and then they shall vote again. All we can do is stand helplessly to the side and wait.”
And that is what we did. We entered the side door to the engorged chamber, two hundred men or so sitting or standing in its center, the woman’s future in their arena. Lines of women standing around its periphery, out of bounds, out of control. We watched, whispered, and waited while these well-suited gentlemen, their lapelled roses picking sides, waved their arms high, while keeping their voices low, mingling, meshing, speaking their superior minds. It appeared from where I stood, that the red roses prevailed. I could understand the anti’s rationale that they had more than a chance.
“We are in for a fine agitation,” I said and Mrs. Catt and Eunice tittered stiffly at my timely usage of Susan B. Anthony’s popular quote.
“Yes, indeed we – ” Mrs. Catt moved aside as much as possible to allow a gentleman into our tiny circle, people bumping our backsides. “Miss Wright, let me introduce you to Mr. Jere Phillips. Jere has proven to be an excellent activist on our behalf, as well as mydriver and protector years ago. Mr. Phillips, this is our
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