In the meantime, the country had not been kept misinformed or uninformed in regard to the treatment of the pickets. Of course, the press teemed with descriptions of their protests and its results. Again and again their activities pushed war news out of the preferred position on the front page of the newspapers. Again and again they snatched the headlines from important personages and events. But despite flaming headlines, these newspaper accounts were inevitably brief and incomplete; sometimes unfair. The Woman’s Party determined that the great rank and file, who might be careless or cautious of newspaper narration, should hear the whole extraordinary story. Picketing began in January, 1917. By the end of September, long before Alice Paul’s arrest and through October and November, therefore, speakers were sent all over the United States. Alice Paul divided the States into four parts, twelve States each: Maud Younger went to the South; Mrs. Lawrence Lewis and Mabel Vernon to the Middle West; Anne Martin to the far West; Abby Scott Baker and Doris Stevens to the East. Ahead of them went the swift band of organizers who always so ably and intensively prepared the way for Woman’s Party activity.

Public opinion became more and more intrigued, began to blaze oftener and oftener into protest as successive parties of pickets were arrested. The climax, of course, was the climactic Administration mistake—the arrest of Alice Paul. And as it began to dawn on the country that she was kept incommunicado ... that she was in the psychopathic ward ... alienists ... hunger-striking ... forcible feeding....

The speakers had extraordinary experiences, especially those who went into the strongholds of the Democrats in the South. Again and again when they told about the jail conditions, and how white women were forced into association with the colored prisoners, were even compelled to paint the toilets used by the colored prisoners, men would rise in the audience and say, “There are a score of men here who’ll go right up to Washington and burn that jail down.” It has been said that Warden Zinkham received by mail so many threats against his life that he went armed.

From Headquarters, telegrams were sent to speakers as the situation grew at Washington, informing them as to the arrests, the actions of the police, sentences, et caetera. Often these telegrams would come in the midst of a speech. The speaker always read them to the audience. Once after Doris Stevens had read such a telegram, “Do you protest against this?” she demanded of her audience. “We do!” they yelled, rising as one man to their feet.

Suddenly while everything was apparently going smoothly, audiences large, indignantly sympathetic, actively protestive, change came. Everywhere obstacles were put in the way of the speakers. That this was the result of concerted action on the part of the authorities was evident from the fact that within a few days four speakers in different parts of the country felt this blocking influence.

In Arkansas they recalled Mabel Vernon’s permit for the Court House. In Connecticut, newspapers began to call Berta Crone pro-German, to attack her in a scurrilous manner.

Anne Martin’s meeting throughout the West had gone on without interruption of any kind. When, however, she arrived in Los Angeles, she was met by a Federal officer and told that there could be no meeting in Los Angeles. Miss Martin’s answer was to read to him a section on the right of free speech and assemblage, to inform him that he could not prevent the meeting, to assure him that he was welcome to attend it, and to invite him to arrest her if she made any seditious remarks. The attempt was then made to get her right to use the hotel ball-room, in which she was to hold the meeting, canceled. However, when Miss Martin told the management that she had made the same speech at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, they agreed to let her have the hall. Federal officers sat on the platform and interrupted her speech, saying, “You’ve said enough about the President now.” Anne Martin replied, “If I’ve said anything seditious it’s your duty to arrest me. Otherwise I’m going on with my speech.” The audience applauded. Within a few minutes, five hundred dollars was collected in that audience for the struggle in the Capitol. Later, one of the Secret Service men warned Miss Martin not to make the same speech in San Diego. “I told him,” Miss Martin said, “to follow me and arrest me at any time he wished to, but in the meantime to stop speaking to me.” She had no further trouble in California.

Maud Younger’s experiences in the South and West were so incredible in these days of free speech that it deserves a detailed narration.

She had passed through nine southern Democratic States. Every speech had been received enthusiastically, with sympathy, and without question. Suddenly the cry of “Treason,” “Pro-German,” was raised. She was to speak at Dallas, Texas, on Monday, November 18. But the organizer found she could not engage a hall nor even a room at the hotel in which Miss Younger could speak. The Mayor would not allow her to hold a street meeting. Miss Younger, whose speeches are always the maximum of accuracy, informedness, feeling—coupled with a kind of diplomatic suavity—offered to submit her speech for censorship. They refused her even that. Finally on Monday morning a hall was found and engaged. The people who rented it canceled that engagement on Monday afternoon. The reporters flocked to see Miss Younger, who astutely said to them, “Of course the President is not responsible for—etc, etc.”—ad libitum—not responsible, in brief, for all the things she would have said in her speech. Miss Condon, who was organizing in that vicinity, had a little office on the top floor and decided to hold a meeting there. Miss Younger spoke to a small audience drummed up as hastily as possible, notifying newspaper and police when the audience was about to arrive. There were detectives present. Miss Younger takes great joy in the fact that in attending this meeting, these detectives, following the accepted tactics of detectives, heavy-handedly—or heavy-footedly—got out of the elevator on the floor below; tiptoed solemnly up to the floor of the meeting, thus proclaiming loudly to the world that they were detectives.

In Memphis, Miss Younger had the assistance of Sue White, who, not then a member of the Woman’s Party, became subsequently one of its most active, able, and devoted workers. Miss White who is very well known in her State, had just gained great public approbation by registering fifty thousand women for war work. She fought hard and constantly to preserve Miss Younger’s speaking schedule in the nine Tennessee towns. But it was impossible in many cases. Everywhere they were fought by the Bar Association and the so-called Home Defense Leagues; and often by civic officials. The Bar Association et caetera appointed a committee to go to all hotels, or meeting-places, to ask them not to rent rooms for Miss Younger’s meetings, and to mayors to request them not to grant permits for street meetings. The Mayor of Brownsville, for instance, telephoned to the Mayor of Jackson: “I believe in one God, one Country, and one President; for God’s sake keep those pickets from coming to Brownsville.” Fortunately everywhere, as has almost invariably happened in the Suffrage movement, Labor came to their rescue.

In the towns where it was impossible to get a hall, Miss Younger did not stay to fight it out. First of all, she felt the situation had developed into a free speech fight between the people of these towns and their local governments. It was for them to make the fight. Moreover, she wanted as far as possible to keep to her schedule.

Sue White went on ahead to Jackson, which was her own home town, and appealed to the Judge for the use of the Court House. The Mayor said he could not legally prevent the meeting. Miss White opened the Court House and lighted it. In the meantime, the Chief of Police met Miss Younger in the Court House before the meeting began. He told her if she said anything against the President, he would arrest her. He came to the meeting that night, but left as soon as he discovered how harmless it was—harmless, that is, so far as the President was concerned. The audience unanimously passed a resolution asking the Mayor of Nashville, which was the next stop, to permit Miss Younger to speak.

However, when she got to Nashville, the Home Defense League had brought pressure on the local authorities and it was impossible for her to get a hall. The organizer had hired the ball-room of the hotel, had deposited twenty-five dollars for it; but the manager broke his contract, refused to allow them to use it, and refunded the money. The prosecuting attorney, months later, boasted, “I was the one that kept Miss Younger from speaking in Nashville.”

The next two towns were Lebanon and Gallatin. In Lebanon, although they could get no hall, they were allowed to speak in the public square. Sue White introduced Miss Younger. It was a bitter cold day; but the weather was not colder than the audience at first. Gradually, however, that audience warmed up. When Miss Younger finished, they called, “We are all with you!” When the Suffragists reached Gallatin, they secured the schoolhouse. There was no time for any publicity, but Rebecca Hourwich hired a wagon and went about the town calling, “Come to the schoolhouse! Hear the White House pickets!”

In Knoxville, they met with the same hostility from the Bar Association. Their permit to speak in the town hall was revoked, and even the street was denied to them. Joy Young, thereupon, went to Labor. The local Labor leader, who was the editor of the Labor paper, saw at once that it was a free speech fight. He said that Labor would make the fight for the Suffragists. He also pointed out that though the Mayor was a Democrat, the Judge was a Republican. He went to the Judge and asked for the Court House. The Judge said that it was not within his power to grant the Court House; that three county officials, to whom, twelve years before, jurisdiction in this matter had been given, must decide the question. These county officials agreed to the proposition. Again the Bar Association interfered. All day long telephone pressure, pro and con, was brought to bear on these county officials. In the end it was decided to have a preliminary rehearsal of Miss Younger’s speech.

At high noon, therefore, Maud Younger went to the Court House. The prosecuting attorney opened the proceedings by reading from a big book an unintelligible excerpt on sedition. Miss Younger then made her forceful, witty, and tactful speech. Of course they gave her the Court House. The prosecuting attorney said, “For an hour I argued against you with the Judge. Now, I don’t see how he could possibly refuse.” The Judge said, “You women have a very real grievance.” Late as it was, Joy Young got out dodgers, inviting the town to the meeting and scattered them everywhere, and the afternoon papers carried the announcement.

That night at dinner, the editor of the Labor paper called. He told them that the Sheriff had suddenly put up the claim of jurisdiction over the county Court House taken from him twelve years ago, and that he would be there with a band of armed deputies. “But,” said the Labor leader, “Labor will be there with eighty armed Union men to meet them.” Of course the two Woman’s Party speakers did not know what would happen. But the only thing they did know was that they would hold the meeting as usual. So Maud Younger and Joy Young proceeded alone to the Court House. They both expected to be shot. The Sheriff with his deputies, instead of surrounding the building, went inside, holding the place against Suffrage attack. The Labor men stationed themselves in front of the door. The steps were filled with audience. Joy Young introduced the speaker. Maud Younger took up her position, and they held their meeting outside. Miss Younger always says: “The Sheriff had the Court House, but I had the audience.”

At Chattanooga, Joy Young had explained the situation; The Mayor was with them; the Bar Association, the Chief of Police, the Sheriff were against them; so the Mayor with the assistance of Labor and the newspapers took up their fight. No hall was to be had, and someone in the Bar Association instructed the Chief of Police to enter any private house and break up any meeting the Suffragists might hold; and the Sheriff to do the same in the country outside the city limits. But Labor was not to be outwitted. They were holding a scheduled meeting in their own hall that night. Labor canceled that meeting and offered Maud Younger the hall free. They said they would like to see any police break up a meeting in their hall. All day long there was a stormy session of the Commissioners as to whether or not she might speak. But in the end she did speak.

Later, when Maud Younger returned to Washington, she met Senator McKellar in the course of her lobbying activities. Of course, she was astute enough to know that orders for all this persecution had come from above. She referred quite frankly to his efforts to stop her in Tennessee. With equal frankness, Senator McKellar said: “I wasn’t going to have you talking against the President in Tennessee.”