Jailed for Freedom Part 14

The following day Miss Lucy Burns and Miss Katherine Morey of Boston carried to the White House gates "We shall fight for the things we have always held nearest our hearts, for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own government," and were arrested.

News had spread through the city that the pickets were to be arrested. A moderately large crowd had gathered to see the "fun."

One has only to come into conflict with prevailing authority, whether rightly or wrongly, to find friendly hosts vanis.h.i.+ng with lightning speed. To know that we were no longer wanted at the gates of the White House and that the police were no longer our "friends" was enough for the mob mind.

Some members of the crowd made sport of the women. Others hurled cheap and childish epithets at them. Small boys were allowed to capture souvenirs, shreds of the banners torn from non-resistant women, as trophies of the sport.

Thinking they had been mistaken in believing the pickets were to be arrested, and having grown weary of their strenuous sport, the crowd moved on its way. Two solitary figures remained, standing on the sidewalk, flanked by the vast Pennsylvania Avenue, looking quite abandoned and alone, when suddenly without any warrant in law, they were arrested on a completely deserted avenue.

Miss Burns and Miss Morey upon arriving at the police station, insisted, to the great surprise of all the officials, upon knowing the charge against them. Major Pullman and his entire staff were utterly at a loss to know what to answer. The Administration had looked ahead only as far as threatening arrest. They doubtless thought this was all they would have to do. People could not be arrested for picketing. Picketing is a guaranteed right under the Clayton Act of

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Congress. Disorderly conduct? There had been no disorderly Iconduct. Inciting to riot? Impossible! The women had stood as silent sentinels holding the President's own eloquent words.

Doors opened and closed mysteriously. Officials and subofficials pa.s.sed hurriedly to and fro. Whispered conversations were heard.

The book on rules and regulations was hopefully thumbed. Hours pa.s.sed. Finally the two prisoners were pompously told that they had "obstructed the traffic" on Pennsylvania Avenue, were dismissed on their own recognizance, and never brought to trial.

The following day, June 23rd, more arrests were made; two women at the White House, two at the Capitol. All carried banners with the same words of the President. There was no hesitation this time. They were promptly arrested for "obstructing the traffic."

They, too, were dismissed and their cases never tried. It seemed clear that the Administration hoped to suppress picketing merely by arrests. When. however. women continued to picket in the face of arrest, the Administration quickened its advance into the venture of suppression. It decided to bring the offenders to trial.

On June 26, six American women were tried, judged guilty on the technical charge of "obstructing the traffic," warned by the court of their "unpatriotic, almost treasonable behavior," and sentenced to pay a fine of twenty-five dollars or serve three days in jail.

"Not a dollar of your fine will we pay," was the answer of the women. "To pay a fine would be an admission of guilt. We are innocent."

The six women who were privileged to serve the first terms of imprisonment for suffrage in this country, were Miss Katherine Morey of Ma.s.sachusetts, Mrs. Annie Arneil and Miss Mabel Vernon of Delaware, Miss Lavinia Dock of Pennsylvania, Miss Maud Jamison of Virginia, and Miss Virginia Arnold of

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North Carolina. "Privileged" in spite of the foul air, the rats, and the mutterings of their strange comrades in jail!

Independence Day, July 4, 1917, is the occasion for two demonstrations in the name of liberty. Champ Clark, late Democratic speaker of the House, is declaiming to a cheering crowd behind the White House, "Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed." In front of the White House thirteen silent sentinels with banners bearing the same words, are arrested. It would have been exceedingly droll if it had not been so tragic. Champ Clark and his throng were not molested. The women with practically a deserted street were arrested and served jail terms for "obstructing traffic."

The trial of this group was delayed to give the jail authorities time to "vacate and tidy up," as one prisoner confided to Miss Joy Young. It developed that "orders" had been received at the jail immediately after the arrests and before the trial, "to make ready for the suffragettes." What did it matter that their case had not yet been heard? To jail they must go.

Was not the judge who tried and sentenced them a direct appointee of President Wilson? Were not the District Commissioners who gave orders to prepare the cells the direct appointees of President Wilson? And was not the Chief of Police of the District of Columbia a direct appointee of these same commissioners? And was not the jail warden who made life for the women so unbearable in prison also a direct appointee of the commissioners?

It was all a merry little ring and its cavalier att.i.tude toward the law, toward justice, and above all toward women was of no importance. The world was on fire with a grand blaze. This tiny flame would scarcely be visible. No one would notice a few "mad"

women thrown into jail. And if the world should find it out, doubtless public opinion would agree that the women ought to stay there. And even if it should not agree,

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this little matter could all be explained away before another election.

Meanwhile the President could proclaim through official channels his disinterestedness. Observe the doc.u.ment, of which I give the substance, which he caused or allowed to be published at this time, through his Committee on Public Information.

"OFFICIAL BULLETIN"

"Published Daily under order of the President of the United States, by the Committee on Public Information.

GEORGE CREEL, Chairman.

"Furnished without charge to all newspapers, post offices, government officials and agencies of a public character for the dissemination of official news of the United States Government."

"Was.h.i.+ngton, July 3, 1917. No. 46-Vol. i."

There follows a long editorial[1] which laments the public attention which has centered on the militant campaign, appeals to editors and reporters not to "encourage" us in our peculiar conduct by printing defies to the President of the United States even when "flaunted on a pretty little purple and gold banner"

and exhorts the public to control its thrills. The official bulletin concludes with:

"It is a fact that there remains in America one man who has known exactly the right att.i.tude to take and maintain toward the pickets. A whimsical smile, slightly puckered at the roots by a sense of the ridiculous, a polite bow-and for the rest a complete ignoring of their existence. He happens to be the man around whom the little whirlwind whirls-the President of the United States."

And finally with an admonition that "the rest' of the country ...

take example from him in its emotional reaction to the picket question."

[1]From the Woman Citizen.

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The Administration pinned its faith on jail--that inst.i.tution of convenience to the oppressor when he is strong in power and his weapons are effective. When the oppressor miscalculates the strength of the oppressed, jail loses its convenience.

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Chapter 4

Occoquan Workhouse

It is Bastille Day, July fourteenth. Inspiring scenes and tragic sacrifices for liberty come to our minds. Sixteen women march in single file to take their own "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" to the White House gates. It is the middle of a hot afternoon. A thin line of curious spectators is seen in the park opposite the suffrage headquarters. The police a.s.semble from obscure spots; some afoot, others on bicycles. They close in on the women and follow them to the gates.

The proud banner is scarcely at the gates when the leader is placed under arrest. Her place is taken by another. She is taken.

Another, and still another steps into the breach and is arrested.

Meanwhile the crowd grows, attracted to the spot by the presence of the police and the patrol wagon. Applause is heard. There are cries of "shame" for the police, who, I must say, did not always act as if they relished carrying out what they termed "orders from higher up." An occasional hoot from a small boy served to make the mood of the hostile ones a bit gayer. But for the most part an intense silence fell upon the watchers, as they saw not only younger women, but whitehaired grandmothers hoisted before the public gaze into the crowded patrol, their heads erect, their eyes a little moist and their frail hands holding tightly to the banner until wrested from them by superior brute force.

This is the first time most of the women have ever seen a

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police station, and they are interested in, their surroundings.

They are not interested in helping the panting policeman count them over and identify them. Who arrested whom? That becomes the gigantic question.

"Will the ladies please tell which officer arrested them?"

They will not. They do not intend to be a party to this outrage.

Finally the officers abandon their attempt at identification.

They have the names of the arrestees and will accept bail for their appearance Monday.

"Well girls, I've never seen but one other court in my life and that was the Court of St. James. But I must say they are not very much alike," was the cheery comment of Mrs. Florence Bayard Hilles,[1] as we entered the court room on Monday.

The stuffy court room is packed to overflowing. The fat, one-eyed bailiff is perspiring to no purpose. He cannot make the throng "sit down." In fact every one who has anything to do with the pickets perspires to no purpose. Judge Mullowny takes his seat, looking at once grotesque and menacing on his red throne.

"Silence in the court room," from the sinister-eyed bailiff. And a silence. follows so heavy that it can be heard.