Soon after we had developed an organization in which economists, biologists, and other scientists could be articulate, they came into the movement. Dr. S. Adolphus Knopf, a tuberculosis specialist, who had been one of the first to greet me when I came out of jail, never missed an opportunity to contribute articles to medical journals and to write letters. Professor Edward Alsworth Ross’s books continued to popularize the sociological and economic aspects. Professor E. M. East of the Bussy Institute of Harvard University published a study of population titled Mankind at the Crossroads, which obtained wide circulation. His one-time pupil, Dr. Raymond Pearl of Johns Hopkins, was carrying on the same work showing exactly how much food a certain number of acres could produce at what cost. Universities generally began to show an interest; students wrote asking for scientific and historical data upon which to base their theses.
Young people in colleges, partly because their ideas were not yet biased, offered a fallow field for my personal campaign of education through lecturing. I particularly enjoyed their quickness and alertness and their interludes of comic relief. Nowhere has this combination been more apparent than in a recent visit to Colgate University. Four boys met me at the station and somehow or other we all squeezed into an automobile which shortly deposited me at the home of one of the professors for tea and to meet the faculty. “This is house-party night,” he told me. “The girls are here, and most of the boys won’t get to bed until daylight. We’ll have to rout them out to hear you at chapel tomorrow.” He added that during his twelve years in the University no woman had spoken on that platform.
“Have they prejudices against women speakers?”
“Oh, no, no. There’s just no subject a woman can deal with better than a man.”
Well! I thought, if the boys will all have been out to parties and I’m the first woman speaker, here is a challenge! No sociology or dull population figures for them from me.
The next morning, determined to make them take notice, I ransacked my bag for my smartest dress, adjusted my lipstick, and carefully set my hat at an angle. Nevertheless, I was a bit ill at ease. My anxiety was not allayed when Norman Himes, professor of sociology, said, “Now, Mrs. Sanger, we probably shan’t be able to hear you in this hall. The acoustics are very bad. They can hardly hear me and I have a big voice.”
This was even less encouraging. I felt I was likely to be the last as well as the first woman at Colgate. However, I replied bravely, “I can speak up and we can have some wave if they can’t hear me. Anyhow, there probably won’t be many; why can’t they be moved up front?”
“Yes, that’s what we’d better do.”
We went in to find the chapel jammed. Some of the students were standing in the door, others against the walls.
Professor Himes introduced me at the top of his lungs. “Louder! Louder!” The boys waved their hands. The more he tried to make himself heard, the more restless they became. When I stood, however, they had to listen if they were to hear me. There was no waving, no calling. They roared with laughter and clapped at everything I said. This seemed fine, but I suspected that I could not have really made so profound an impression as to deserve so much applause.