The dog days of summer were usually a peaceful time in Tennessee. Quiet nights sitting out on porches. Family picnics, followed by naps under a shady tree. That kind of thing. Not so much this year. Suffragists and Antis were zigzagging across the state in a frenzy, trying to keep calm and cool under the blazing southern sun.
Carrie Catt was giving rallying speeches throughout Tennessee, from Memphis to Knoxville to Chattanooga. Sue White was racing around Nashville, snagging important legislators. Josephine Pearson was planning Anti meetings around Nashville. Meanwhile, Charlotte Rowe fanned the Anti flames across the state.
Everyone was in motion.
Before radio or television or the internet, this was how the suffragists got the word out about their mission. Door-to-door. Town-to-town. For decades, women had pleaded for the vote. They had protested, petitioned, and been jailed again and again. Now they were back in the field for the final stage, with both Suffs and Antis scrambling to win. The clock was ticking.
Like an impatient fisherman, Sue wanted to reel in Seth Walker fast. Seth was the slippery sort, but he was an essential catch. As Speaker of the house in Tennessee, his role gave him all sorts of powers that he could use to help—or destroy—the passage of the woman’s suffrage amendment.
Seth Walker was an Albert Roberts supporter. He sided with the governor on just about everything. Tall, good-looking, and just twenty-eight years old, he had a reputation as a clever lawyer and had quickly moved up in the world of politics. All the way up to the role of Speaker of Tennessee’s house of representatives. He also served as an attorney for the Nashville, Chattanooga, and St. Louis Railway, which paid him very well.
During the limited suffrage debate last year, Seth had surprised everyone by changing his mind on limited suffrage—first he opposed it, then suddenly switched and supported it. He flip-flopped with no explanation. The Suffs weren’t exactly sure why, but they were pleased by it.
But now that the chance to give women full suffrage had come around, he was hesitating. The Suffs were getting a little impatient with him. He was a man whom others followed. But he hadn’t responded to the poll, he hadn’t sent in his pledge, and he wasn’t answering any messages. Sue worried he’d swallowed the Antis’ bait.
Sue wasn’t ready to give up on Seth yet, though. She badgered him nonstop, popping into his office, listing all the reasons to ratify.
Finally, in the very last days of July, he agreed to support the amendment. When Sue heard the news, she instantly wired Alice Paul and called Anita Pollitzer, whooping with delight.
She even spilled the beans to the newspapers, to make it official.
Betty Gram slipped into Memphis to begin her mission. Betty had dreamed of being an actress and singer but gave up the stage for a part in the suffrage movement with the radical Woman’s Party. As charming as she was fierce, Betty was also clever, courageous, and not a bit intimidated by powerful men. If unsuspecting legislators simply saw her as a pretty face, they’d better think twice.
Betty wasn’t shy about being a “militant.” Like her friend Sue, she wore her prison pin with pride. In Memphis, she unpacked her bag, shook out her hair, and got straight to work scheduling meetings with important men.
Betty and the Woman’s Party were trying to get legislators to clearly say: If elected, I will vote to ratify the federal suffrage amendment. Soon enough, Betty came away with the pledge of Joseph Hanover, a well-dressed thirty-year-old Memphis delegate. He was eager to help ratify the amendment to give women the vote.
Another big score for the Suffs was a pledge from Thomas Riddick. Thomas was a Memphis attorney and had been supporting women’s rights for a while now. The Suffs knew they could trust him.
Between Joe Hanover and Tom Riddick, they felt they had at least two important men solidly in their corner.
By the latest Woman’s Party count, the Suffs were ten votes short in the house and six votes short in the senate. They were desperate to get more men on their side.
But across the state from Betty Gram, fellow Woman’s Party member Anita Pollitzer started to notice something strange: many of the legislators she approached seemed more and more skittish at the mention of woman’s suffrage. They’d avoid her, ignore her questions, or answer in a vague, noncommittal way. Even the ones who had already pledged!
Anita and the Woman’s Party Suffs weren’t the only ones to notice this pattern. The NAWSA Suffs were noticing it, too. As Carrie moved from town to town, her smiles and speeches started to feel a bit strained. Her rosy mood was darkening. The Antis were up to some dirty tricks, and word was getting around fast.
Newspaper stories about Charlotte Rowe sweeping into town or Nina Pinckard cozying up to lawmakers were one thing. A double agent working with the Antis was quite another one. Apparently, a powerful Tennessee Republican was pretending to work for ratification—then passing the Suffs’ secrets on to the Antis. And plenty of legislators who’d agreed to vote for woman’s suffrage were now changing their minds.
These two-timing politicians! Carrie felt sick with anger.
Presidential candidate Warren G. Harding’s name was in the news again, the Suffs noticed with a grimace. This time, he seemed to be distancing himself from his pro-ratification stance. He was refusing to comment on ratification in Tennessee at all.
Harding’s patience was seriously fraying. He was being bothered by all sides: those pushy Suffs, the persistent Antis, lawyers, journalists, and now Tennessee Republicans, too.
The national election was only thirteen weeks away. He was trying to become president! And all anyone was thinking about was Tennessee and women voting.
Focus, he told himself. He had to seem serious. Impressive. Presidential. If he could avoid saying anything too controversial for the next few weeks, he might be able to beat that dull Democrat James Cox and win the White House.
Recently, Harding and Cox had received identical letters from the Tennessee Constitutional League. The men in the league were strictly Anti. Their message was crystal clear: keep your “hands off” our state, they demanded. The threatening tone didn’t escape Harding’s attention. He felt relieved that he’d decided to keep his neck out of Tennessee. Those Suff women weren’t his problem anyway.
At noon on Wednesday, August 4, Carrie Catt was scheduled to give a talk at Chattanooga’s swanky Hotel Patten. The audience was an impressive bunch of political powerhouses. Carrie was usually nervous about public speaking, but something felt different this time. She was tired of politicians and their weak excuses for keeping women down. All that frustration was driving her forward. She was too angry to even feel nervous.
Carrie approached the podium with her head high, her tone loud and bold as she began speaking.
The Constitutional League, the men’s Anti group, does not “appear to be behind the opposition,” she declared, “but when they send to Cox and Harding messages to ‘leave Tennessee alone’ you may know it is this little band…who are behind it.” Carrie presented her evidence like it was a detective story, turning her magnifying glass on the Constitutional League. Reporters scribbled furiously in their notebooks.
“The opponents of suffrage are trying to fool the people of Tennessee,” Carrie fumed. She was speaking with an unfiltered fury that even her closest friends had never heard before.
Any delay in approving the amendment, she continued, would “pass into history as a testimonial to the stupidity of Tennessee.”
The crowd gasped and murmured disapprovingly. At the back of the room, Marjorie Shuler and Abby Milton cringed. Had Carrie really just called Tennessee stupid? It was so out of character for her! Clearly all that stress she’d felt during the past several weeks, the bitter frustration she’d bottled up, was now bubbling out.
“Go to see your representatives and senators, and set them right!” Carrie thundered, then strode away from the podium.
The next evening, Carrie, Marjorie, and Abby took the train back to Nashville. Carrie didn’t say much on the ride. She just wanted to get back to her hotel room and be alone for a while.
When Carrie’s remarks reached Josephine Pearson and the Tennessee Antis, they were furious. How dare this Yankee come onto their turf and insult them?
They weren’t offended for long, though. Mostly they were amused. They saw Carrie’s speech as proof that the Suffs felt themselves slipping, losing their grip.
And the Antis weren’t wrong.