The way he railed at her—that great, strong, well-fed, handsomely dressed, handsome man. He not only shook his finger in her face, but he threatened her and all suffragists against following the example of the militant Englishwomen, who he claimed had poured acid in the letter-boxes of London. While I did not see him actually grit his teeth, that was his manner—gritting his teeth and foaming at the mouth with fury.
At the end he gathered himself together, raising himself to his full height, and proclaimed his contempt for the women before him. The “ladies” of his acquaintance not only would refuse to vote were the ballot given them, but they would draw their skirts aside to keep from coming in contact with such despicable representatives of their sex.
When he finished, the women around me clapped and shouted like mad. Amazed, I turned to the woman next me and asked what she meant by it.
“He’s on our side,” she told me, her face glowing with satisfied pride. “He is our chief speaker. Applaud him. Applaud him.”
I saw a great light. In my stupidity I had taken a seat among the Antis. Rising I crossed over the aisle. There was no seat, so I took my stand at the back of the room against the wall. A hand reached back and touched me.
“I recognized you,” a sweet voice whispered, “and I knew you had gotten in the wrong pew.” It was a daughter of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe.
As a result of that man’s harangue a few months later I travelled more than one hundred miles to march in the suffrage parade through Boston. Now I not only worked for the sake of rubbing my rabbit’s foot and giving them the victory, but for the sake of getting behind the scenes and learning by my own personal observations whether or no the women leaders of the party were competent executives.
I held a good many positions during my four years in the underbrush. In none did I find more competent leadership. In none did I ever see such indomitable pluck and perseverance, such undaunted courage. It takes courage, real courage, to work on regardless of insult and flattery. Especially when the insults and sneers come from those with whom you are the most closely associated. It takes pluck and perseverance to lay siege and to hammer and hammer and hammer to break down prejudice in small minds. That is what being a leader of the Suffrage Party meant.
At the end of my week I was paid the promised ten dollars as promptly as I would have been by any other first-class business organization. On Monday evening I marched in the last suffrage parade in New York City, from the West Side headquarters to Durland’s. Much to the surprise of the marchers about me I insisted on carrying both a heavy banner and a transparency.
The day after that election which gave the women of New York State the ballot I went to work for the International Young Men’s Christian Association—proof-reader in the multigraph department, otherwise known as the “guts” of the Association. Through our hands passed every order, every report, every circular of every sort before it was given to the public. Down in two little dark basement rooms we worked under electricity from eight-thirty until—many times after 10 P. M.