On Wednesday morning during a session in the house of representatives, majority leader William Bond, a close friend of Seth Walker’s, rose from his seat. Together, these two young lawyers were about to launch a sneaky ploy. If everything worked according to plan, there was no doubt they would delay any vote on suffrage.
As William stood before the chamber, the floor and galleries quieted. His job this morning was simple enough: to introduce a resolution, or proposal, to the house for all the men to vote on. But this resolution was actually a maneuver he and Seth had been working on—meant to delay and destroy ratification. Of course, he didn’t present it that way. He presented it as the only sensible option for the state of Tennessee.
This legislature, William began, shouldn’t take action on ratification until the voice of the people has been heard. Both men and women, in every county of the state, should meet to discuss whether they even want the legislature to consider ratifying a suffrage amendment. These meetings would take place in two weeks’ time. Then a chairman in each county would report the opinion of its citizens by August 24. Only then, William finished, could the legislators properly vote on behalf of their constituents.
The chamber erupted: shouts, cheers, and protests on the floor and in the galleries. Everyone was on their feet. Clearly, this plan would shatter any chance for timely ratification—or any ratification at all!
The Antis applauded. The Suffs booed: this ridiculous mass-meeting idea was a candy-coated excuse for legislators to do absolutely nothing.
A hot debate began on the floor; faces flushed and voices rose.
Both parties had already declared the need for ratification, said Leonidas (L. D.) Miller, a firm suffrage supporter. “And far and above the political party appeals,” he cried, “comes the voice of the womanhood of America calling for justice long overdue.” The Suffs in the gallery cheered. “To throw this question back upon the people will show cowardice,” L. D. boomed.
Seth stepped down from the Speaker’s chair and onto the floor to defend the Bond resolution. After all, it had partly been his idea. “We want to get an expression from the people!” Seth declared to red-rosed applause.
Josephine Pearson watched the argument from her gallery seat, her face flushed with excitement. She’d never seen anything like this. Her mentor, Mr. Vertrees, hadn’t let her set foot in the statehouse during the 1917 and 1919 debates. Finally, she was seeing the legislature in action. Here were the brave Anti men of Tennessee taking their stand, upholding the honor of the South. She couldn’t be prouder of them. Especially that young, very handsome Seth Walker.
Thomas Riddick, a close ally of the Suffs, jumped into the fray. This resolution was ridiculous, Thomas railed, his eyes blazing as he spoke. These so-called mass conventions couldn’t possibly measure the people of Tennessee’s views on woman’s suffrage. How would their opinions be counted—by who showed up first? By who yelled the loudest? There was too much room for fraud!
Just then, Governor Roberts arrived in the chamber, sweating through his shirt and crumpled jacket. Immediately he started scribbling strategy notes, passing them on to delegates. Albert had just spoken with James Cox on the phone, had lied and told Cox things were under control. Now Albert had to actually get things under control.
Sue White and Anita Pollitzer, standing at the edge of the chamber, looked over at the governor suspiciously. They still suspected that he was double-dealing. He’s acting as if he’s working for ratification, Anita whispered to her friend, but his own men are working against us.
As the house debate wore on, Joe Hanover stood up. I wish to speak against the Bond resolution, he announced. The Suffs sat up a little straighter. They had high hopes for this bold, young attorney. During the past few nights, he’d joined in the Suffs’ strategy sessions in Carrie’s room, impressing them all with his passion for their fight.
Joe Hanover didn’t have Confederate pedigree. He wasn’t a born Tennessean. He was an immigrant. America had become his adopted home after he and his parents escaped the pogroms against Jews in their native Poland. His parents had taught him that America stood for justice, fairness, and equality. That was the American dream—and he believed in that dream. But it wasn’t right that women didn’t have equality as full citizens, he’d always felt. Now he had a chance to do something about it.
“The people of Tennessee have already passed upon suffrage!” he declared. “The real voice of the people has already been heard in the expression of both party platforms.” Joe swiveled to face Seth Walker. “My colleagues Mr. Bond and Mr. Walker were both members of the Democratic state convention in June which wrote into its platform that ‘we stand for woman suffrage in Tennessee,’ ” Joe exclaimed.
Finally, someone was pointing out Seth’s hypocrisy! Suffragists throughout the chamber burst into applause.
L. D. Miller stood again and moved to table Bond’s delay resolution, to get rid of it for good.
Here was the first showdown, the first test of strength for both sides. The chamber was about to take a vote to shoot down the mass-meeting proposal. If the Anti legislators could kill the tabling motion, it would show they had the votes to delay, maybe even destroy, ratification.
The galleries, which had been electrified by the debate, now grew still. The roll call began.
“Mr. Anderson,” the clerk called out. “Aye” was the first response, in support of tabling the resolution. The Suffs murmured approvingly.
“Bell”—aye; “Bond” and “Boyer”—no. The Antis were pleased.
Anita Pollitzer quickly tallied the votes. Men who’d pledged to support ratification, like Harry Burn, were now throwing their support behind the resolution to delay! Their pledges, their word, had been worth nothing. Catherine Kenny was keeping a similar tally for NAWSA. She noted, more optimistically, that four Anti delegates had now voted with the Suffs.
The clerk moved down the roll: “Riddick”—aye. “Turner”—no. And finally: “Speaker Walker”—no.
The Suffs did not have to wait for the clerk to announce his count; the delay resolution was dead. This was fantastic news! The Suffs cheered. The Anti spectators pursed their lips in silence.
Speaker Walker banged his gavel angrily and adjourned. That resolution hadn’t gone according to plan at all, he thought as he stormed out of the statehouse. He needed time to think.
By late afternoon on Wednesday, the Hotel Hermitage was a hive of commotion. Men and women, Suffs and Antis, Democrats and Republicans all held meetings. Little cliques huddled in private, hatching plans. Suffs congratulated themselves on their victory while Antis dismissed the events of the day as no big deal. They still had time to flex their strength, Charlotte and Josephine assured each other confidently. In the lobby, Laura Clay and Kate Gordon handed out Anti literature spiked with racist and sexist malice. When they passed their former suffrage colleagues in the hallways, they looked the other way.
The legislators were really under pressure. Pressure from their party chiefs, from the governor, from the people of Tennessee. Adding to all this, both Suff and Anti advocates were chasing them down and pestering them with questions.
Often the women returned from their assignments frustrated. Both Suffs and Antis would try to find their delegates, only to realize that the men had been avoiding them.
On Wednesday evening, house member Tom Riddick and senate Speaker Andrew Todd made an important announcement. Both the house and the senate would vote on ratification on Friday, they declared. The votes appeared to be there, so why wait?
On one hand, it would be a relief to not delay the vote any longer. But those who were keeping careful count, like Sue White, recognized that things weren’t quite so rosy. Sure, the Suffs had had just enough votes to defeat the delay resolution. But they had the bare minimum—fifty votes—needed to win the majority in the house. And in order to ratify, they needed a majority. There wasn’t a single vote to spare.
It was another late night into dawn for the Nashville soldiers. Once the Friday vote had been announced, they knew there’d be no time for sleep. The Antis and the Suffs knew they’d have to scramble to nail down the votes they needed within the next thirty-six hours.
As if that wasn’t enough to worry about, the public hearing—a showdown debate between the Suffs and the Antis—was taking place that evening.
It was the hottest ticket in town.
That night, legislators, judges, and dignitaries jammed the house floor for the public hearing and debate. Suffs and Antis crowded onto the rose-bedecked balcony, squeezing by one another with pointed glances. Hundreds more people stuffed into the aisles and out the door. Governor Roberts settled into a seat near the front. The scene was as rowdy as a sports game. Fireworks were expected.
Initially, only men had been slated to speak, but Charlotte Rowe had demanded a speaking spot for the Antis. Native Tennessean Charl Williams, a Memphis educator and the vice chair of the Democratic National Committee, would represent the Suffs.
With ninety minutes for each side to make its case, the debate began.
U.S. Senator Kenneth McKellar on the Suffs’ side urged Democrats to follow their party leaders—President Wilson and Governor Cox—to ratify.
Back and forth, men rolled out their arguments for and against the amendment. The Suffs waited anxiously as Charl Williams approached the podium. “The eyes of the United States are upon Tennessee.” Charl’s melodious voice rang through the chamber. “The women of the state and nation stretch out eager hands to our men in this fight.”
Sue White winced slightly at this “damsel in distress” approach. If she’d been given a chance to speak in front of the whole legislature, she wouldn’t have been quite so polite. Sue knew very well that any member of the Woman’s Party was considered far too radical to speak in front of the legislature. That’s why she wasn’t up there, much as she’d like to have been. Sue would have demanded that the men step it up and stick out their necks for women and girls around the country. Once and for all. They were tired of waiting around for their rights! But even though Sue didn’t exactly adore Charl’s polite pleading with the men, she applauded supportively.
Then Charlotte Rowe took the stage. All the Suffs in the chamber smirked.
“Suffrage leaders are working to destroy the states and enslave the American people,” Rowe declared in her customary take-no-prisoners style. She then launched into a bitter tirade against Mrs. Carrie Catt and the Tennessee suffrage women. Though they were tempted to boo, the Suffs in the galleries stuck their tongues out at Rowe instead.
The debate went on and on, winding down only as the clock struck midnight.
Sleepy legislators wiped their eyes and dreamed of heading to bed. But it was wishful thinking. Late as it was, there was still work to be done, and a decision to be made. The senate and house constitutional committees, small groups made up of members of each chamber, both withdrew. They would discuss, privately, whether to recommend ratification of the suffrage amendment.
The next steps for the women of Tennessee—and the entire nation—were in the hands of a select group of powerful men.
The senate committee’s decision came first. The committee would recommend ratification of the suffrage amendment to the senate in the morning, they confirmed.
All of the Suffs—from the NAWSA members to the Woman’s Party members—exhaled with relief.
But to their distress, things didn’t go as smoothly in the house committee session. Seth Walker forced the men to postpone consideration of the ratification resolution, delaying any vote—yet again—until the following week.