“Isn’t that what the Pankhursts are doing over in England? Looks fun.”
A member of the trio let out a scandalized gasp. “Western men wouldneversupport such unladylike behavior. We are suffragists,notsuffragettes.”
“Is this the sort of thing you plan to allow, Miss Lewis?” Another demanded, leaning on her cane and giving the organizer a challenging frown.
Clem’s calmness never wavered. “We will of course try a number of nonviolent strategies to win the vote, as our foremothers did before us.” The older woman was appeased until Clem turned to Rhoda. “If that doesn’t work, perhaps we’ll consider rocks. But that day is far away.”
The older woman sniffed, but Rhoda gave an indolent shrug and shoved the lopsided bag under her chair. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and winked at Winnie.
Oh, she liked this girl.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Clem asked.
“Hear, hear,” Mrs. Longfellow called, and her companion let out a hurrah.
Clem shuffled her papers. “First, I would like to go over the Society’s mission. It goes unsaid that Congress’ refusal to pass nationwide suffrage for women—first introducedfortyyears ago, mind you—is a travesty.” The women booed, and Clem nodded. “Therefore, it is up to individual states to secure our right to vote. If we gain enough steam, Congress will beforcedto listen!”
Cheers rang out across the room, and Clem held out a hand for silence.
“As you are probably aware, Washington’s organization is largely under the direction of Mrs. Emma Smith DeVoe, who has charged us with mobilizing local groups across the state. Our goal is to uphold the notions perpetuated by the National American Woman Suffrage Association through campaigns and petitions. With enough publicity, our amendment will be on the state election ballot next year.”
“A worthy goal, but how is this suffrage club any different than the others?” The woman with the daughter asked. “There’s another club closer to my home. Why should I join this one?”
“Excellent question. This club will not cling to the methods of the past, but will look for new, modern tactics tailored specifically to the Western mentality.”
Atmodern tactics, Rhoda’s hand edged toward her valise.
Winnie whispered in horror, “That doesnotmean the rocks, Rhoda.”
The raven-haired beauty sat back with a huff, and Winnie swallowed another laugh before returning her attention to Clem.
“These modern tactics include raising money, canvassing, and soliciting signatures. It also signifies a clear departure from the temperance movement, which, historically in Washington state, has had negative ramifications on our right to vote.”
A low buzz spread throughout the women, but Winnie was glued to Clem’s words.
“Furthermore, this club recognizes that women represent a spectrum, and our experiences are both varied and valid. Therefore, no woman will be turned away from membership based on her age, marital status, race, religion, or class.”
The buzz grew into audible exclamations, many of which were negative. The matron with the cane surged to her feet.
“Miss Lewis, this is a mistake. Suffrage depends on order and decency, yet you spit in the face of all we have done to get us to this moment.”
“That isn’t true,” Clem said. “I greatly value the actions of the suffragists before me. Without them—without you, my dear Mrs. Collins—I wouldn’t stand here today. That said, we’ve made no progress with national suffrage, and no state has passed suffrage in fourteen years. The truth is undeniable—the old tacticsno longer work.”
Mrs. Collins’ mouth twisted in anger, and she sailed from the room, her companions on her heels.
There was an awkward pause, and then Mrs. Longfellow snorted. “For someone so interested in propriety, she forgot to thank her hostess.”
Weak laughter broke out, and Winnie had an inkling of where Clem got her spirit from.
“Go on,” Rhoda called out. “I want to hear more.”
“I do too,” the young girl said.
“As I said,” Clem began. “Every woman in this room has had unique experiences that contribute a wealth of knowledge. If we combine our skills, wewillbe victorious.”
“Hear, hear!”
“In this room, we represent multiple generations of American suffragists, from fine wine”—she gestured to Mrs. Longfellow and her companion, who let out another hurrah—“to grapes just off the vine.” She nodded at the youngest member, who flushed pink at being included. “We have married women, single women—”
