THH Episode 38: Giving Voice: Susan Hall Dotson and Kisha Tandy

Transcript for Giving Voice: Susan Hall Dotson and Kisha Tandy

Beckley: I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Giving Voice. On today’s installment of Giving Voice, I have the pleasure of speaking with Susan Hall-Dotson, the African American history collections coordinator at the Indiana Historical Society, and Kisha Tandy, the curator of social history at the Indiana State Museum. After our two-part series covering the women’s suffrage movement in Indiana, we wanted to take some time to talk about the suffrage movement in the African American communities at the state and national level.  In this episode we talked about inclusion, storytelling, and the importance of telling a richer version of the suffrage story than what is often heard.

And now, Giving Voice.

Alright, I’m here today with Kisha Tandy and Susan Hall Dotson and I’m so excited to be talking with the two of you today and thank you so much for coming on.

Tandy: Thank you.

Hall-Dotson: Thank you.

Beckley: Of course. So, I think that starting with a little bit of the national context of the relationship between white and Black suffragists would be a good place to start. Susan, could you talk a little bit about how that how that relationship between white and Black suffragists evolved over the decades leading up to the 19th Amendment?

Hall-Dotson: Big question!  But a brief answer is that in different places and at different times it was minimal. It is less inclusive, accepting, embracing than we would like to think about in modern times. It’s really hard to have a backward glance and say that people were marginalized – that people were left out. But they were.  Because if you look at the bigger scope of the country and how people were, say from the post-Civil War to 1920, there was lots of segregation. There was lots of discrimination. And it went from slavery and enslavement and who was free and who was not and where you could live and where you couldn’t and what legal privileges that you were able to enjoy. Which didn’t happen – Black men didn’t get the right to vote until after slavery, after emancipation. And there were white women who were upset that Black men got the right to vote before women – before white women – got the right to vote.  They didn’t live, work, play, worship in the same spaces, so it’s really hard to imagine that we had this level of camaraderie out of womanhood that superseded other modes and means of relationships.

Beckley: Yea, and I know the same goes for here in Indiana. We were still segregated up until well past the 19th Amendment, so I know that a lot of the same can be said for here in Indiana.

Kisha, could you introduce us to some of the prominent African American suffragists here in Indiana?

Tandy: Yea, so, there were many women who had been working to achieve the right to vote, who had been working for suffrage. And many of those women we’re individuals who were active in clubs and the temperance movement. And so, African American – Black women – had been fighting for so many things leading up to this and working just for suffrage – not only for themselves but just in general African American suffrage. And some of those women who were doing that were individuals like Naomi Talbert Bowmen Anderson, who was born in Michigan City, Indiana. She was born in 1843. she would leave Indiana in 1868 and go to Chicago. She would have a long history of working in the suffrage movement. And it’s interesting because she went to Chicago in 1868 and by 1869, she was speaking at a national suffrage convention. And it was also interesting because this was one of those presentations in speaking where there was some issue with her speaking there and I love to use quotes so I’ll use a quote from her – it’s one of the things said speaking in 1869, and this comes from the Chicago Tribune, from February 13, 1869. It’s – the heading from the article was “Progress of the Female Suffrage Movement in Chicago, and the Chicago Tribune reports this. They say:

“She came on behalf of the colored women of Chicago and of the State of Illinois, believing that God was on their side, and that the day was not far distant when the opponents of universal suffrage would [illegible] before the wind. The power of women would be felt and she would have the right to vote.”]

Because, when I started looking into this, this was very much a research project. This individual, Naomi Bowmen Talbert Anderson, there was information about her in a book by Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, and she looked at African American women and the struggle for the vote from 1850 to 1920. She talks about her, so it was great to already have information by an African American female scholar already in place so that I can go in and find and look for other information. And she notes in her research and in her efforts that there was – her  appearance at this convention had some issue and that because the Fifteenth Amendment hadn’t passed yet and there was some contention there and that there was some concern. So, you know, even as early as 1890, this had been written about. You know, her being there at the –  this moment and speaking about it and she did come back and have, you know, explain why she was doing and try to explain herself and different things like that. But, she was not deterred and she continued to press on towards the vote – pressing on, working in various areas. For example, she moved to Ohio, she later moved to Kansas, and to California. And she continued to speak for suffrage, continued to work towards getting African American women the right to vote – for women to vote – and we are able to follow her –  to follow what she is doing just looking through newspaper articles and getting different Snippets and different pieces of information from her in there. And even just being able to get additional information about her story, so she is one of those individuals very early on that was out and sharing and fighting for the right to vote.

Another individual, Martha Mary Harris Mason Mccurdy. She was an advocate for temperance, for a span she was a writer, and she was a suffragist. She was born in Carthage, Indiana in 1852 and her belief, what she believed in, was that the temperance movement aided in the work for women to obtain the right to vote. And she believed that ridding alcohol and having temperance would help her community, would help the African American community, the Black community. And her writing allowed her the opportunity to share and to speak out and to call attention to what was going on. She would be a writer, not only in Indiana but also she would move to Georgia and she would write for a newspaper there. She was part of the WCTU, at one point she was president of the local chapter where she was living in Georgia. And so, she was using all these various uses to, again, help to get the right to vote for African American women and she would work for a very long time for this effort. So, she was writing as early as 1895, talking about getting the right to vote. But even over 20 years later, she would still be attending a suffrage meeting after – and I should step back, after she left Georgia she returned to Indiana and was in Richmond, Indiana. By 1917, she was attending a suffrage meeting here in Indianapolis giving a presentation, so you can see that she had a very long history of working for the right to vote. And again she was one of those people early on who was identified as a suffragist and someone who was working for African Americans to have the right to vote and being able to find information about her, again through the newspaper, but then also and one of the early examinations of African Americans in history. And so those were two of the earlier women that were working – you can see that both of them have the temperance movement in common as well.

Another individual would be Lillian Thomas-Fox and here in Indianapolis we know a lot about Mrs. Fox. We talked a lot about her. She wrote for the Indianapolis Freemannewspaper, which was the first Illustrated Black newspaper in the country, she was a correspondent for the Indianapolis Newsand she was a very active woman in the club movement. She established the woman’s Improvement Club in 1904* and the state Federation of colored women’s clubs and 1905*. She worked for her community she worked for the people of Indianapolis and not only of Indianapolis, but nationally as well. Again I like quotes so I’m going to share one. Gurley Brewer, who wrote for the Indianapolis world, he was the editor, and he said of her and 1905:

“By the success she has made in a field until recently closed to women, removed the false idea of the intellectual and executive inferiority of women and has shown that fame is attained by a single standard, the standard of excellence she has demonstrated the fact that she is a woman of great force of character, will, and strong intellectuality.”

I paraphrased a little at the end, but you can get an idea of the respect he has for her. And that is great. And I go back to her involvement and being very active, she was involved in the National Afro-American Council, and this was an organization that did work for suffrage. Looking at the Indianapolis Recorder, September 1, 1900, she was elected as a vice presidents – one of the vice presidents – of the organization. And during this – this happened during the third National Convention, and in the Recorderthey had different fragments of some of the speeches and things that were made during this convention and one of the quotes that I just thought was so – that so fit the moment – I don’t have the actual person but it was recorded in the Recorder:

“Let the Afro-American people set unflinchingly by their suffrage rights. It is a life-and-death struggle.”

And that was going back to 1900. So, you can see that these early women were really working to achieve at various levels.

Beckley: Yea, so I’m that we could get a little bit of an introduction to some of those women and then the national context and we’ve met some of these women. Could one or both of you talk a little bit about how the African American suffrage movement at the national level compares to the state level? And what the relationship between the Black and white suffragists here and Indiana look like in comparison to that National level.

Hall-Dotson:  Well, I’ll take a stab for now and I’ll pass off to Kisha. I think that they looked very similar. The evidence that I’ve seen from the scholarship that’s been done, says that, although there was some  inclusion – more tokenism, if you will, van full sisterhood, inclusion, and the rallying of all the women, if you will, to join. Women of certain classes did not go and get women of other classes, whether they were Black or white to necessarily come into the fold – into the fray. And during the suffrage eras, white women from the north and the Midwest were concerned with ruffling the feathers and alienating their white sisters from the south if there was too much integration and inclusion of African American women in the movement.  So, if you look at the images, when you look at the pictures, not just the stories, but use the imagery of the day that we have, that way see, you don’t see the fully-integrated march. You don’t see large swaths and pockets of Black women at meetings, in pictures. Because we were largely, not to say can white women could not and did not ever work together or get along, but in general, the society was so polarized and separate that even in the struggle for womanhood –  for women to vote as a big block, there was still a large segment that suggested that, “No, let us get this and we’ll give it to you later.  this is not for you.”  And many white women – Northern as well as Southern, if you will – weren’t happy that Black men had received the right to vote. So, I think they paralleled – there’s not some anomaly in Indiana that suggests that it was any different than New York or Mississippi and Atlanta, as far as how people came together. So, people were working, even within the white women in the suffrage movement, there wasn’t just one monolithic group that –  maybe one group was bigger than the other in a certain place, but all types of women and different clubs and in different segments of the society were working toward achieving the right to vote. And enfranchisement, if you will, meant the same and different things to each. I would say some wanted to have voice, and particularly after Black men received the right, if you don’t see yourself as below all men, you’re fighting for that right even harder. And Black women are fighting for the right the same as they were still fighting for the right for the right to vote for the men in their lives. So, their right to vote didn’t mean that they got it. The moment they got it, they were being disenfranchised.

Beckley:  I mean, obviously, a lot of the times when we think about disenfranchisement, we’re thinking of Southern Jim Crow laws and things like that. Would you say that this applies just as much here in Indiana as it did in the south?

Hall-Dotson: I would say so, in different ways. And I think that when we use modern terms, right now we talked about implicit and explicit bias, so you may not have walked up to the courthouse and had a big sign that said, “no coloreds,” “coloreds only,”  I believe there was intimidation –  you don’t have this run on people being able to vote that’s changing the electorate –  and we could talk about that a little later –  what happens because we vote? So, people’s jobs were on the line. People were threatened with unemployment and arrested for vagrancy or some other make-up, trumped-up, charges that created this environment where everybody didn’t vote. And there were poll taxes. And there were literacy tests. And I’m sure some of those existed – and I’m not a scholar on voting rights in Indiana, but I can’t imagine, especially with the Resurgence and the emergence of the Klan in Indiana –

Beckley: Yea, On the heels of the 19th Amendment –

Hall-Dotson: Right, so, it didn’t just happen in an instant – in a vacuum. People’s beliefs and behaviors existed before even the establishment of maybe organized organizations. And if you look at 1851 and the amendments to the Constitution that say no Negroes and mulattos should enter the state, it was really clear that it was not a welcoming inviting environment. Weather was enforced and how it was enforced, it changes from place to place and date today thereafter. But even after emancipation, it took until 1874 a vote – back to why we need to vote – vote to overturn that Amendment, to have it in line with federal guidelines and amendments at that point. And in 1869 it was overturned. So, there was already this overarching, codified behavior in laws in the state to suggest that African Americans were not fully vested, fully privileged voting and other laws –  where you could live, where you can work, where you could  play, where you could worship. So, segregation and discrimination were heightened and real. And it was really no different throughout anywhere in this country. There is no place that we can look to that is some utopian state that did not have all of the above. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have to have kept fighting until 1965. So, the bull Connors of the 50s and 60s in the South existed in the North, just in different ways. And maybe and more subtle ways, but just the same.

Beckley:  I think that what you said about all of this not happening in a vacuum and  acknowledging what was going on around these women or men, just in general African Americans trying to vote, is really important to contextualize some of this. Even if there aren’t outlaw right laws like there were in the South prohibiting  r obstructing the vote, it was nonetheless intimidation and job security and things like that that are less visible, especially to historians, but still very important to keep in the context.

Hall-Dotson: Yes.

Beckley:  Kisha, did you have anything to add?

Tandy:  Yes, listening to Susan speak about this reminded me of another quote, and bear with me, Adella Hunt-Logan, and she said the following and the crisis magazine in September 1912. It was looking at Colored women as voters. Listening to Susan talk about everything that Black women and African American women were dealing with just in their lives it made me think about this cool idea that Black women have always been active, always doing, always emoting, trying to get better not only for themselves, but for their family. And so, Adella Hunt Logan really expressed this:

“More and more Colored Women are studying public questions and Civics. As they gain information and have experience in their daily vocations, and in their efforts for human betterment, they are convinced, as many other women have long ago been convinced, that their efforts would be more telling if women had the vote. Having no vote, they need not be feared or heeded. The right of petition is good, but it is much better when well voted in. Not only is the colored woman awake to reforms that may be hastened by good legislation and wise administration, but she is reported as using it for the uplift of society and for the advancement of the state.”

I mean, and that’s going back to the Crisis, which was part of the NAACP from September 1912. This idea just working not only for yourself but for all. And listening to Susan speak about that – that just stuck out to me again. And then also, just talking about that it was, you know, that, yes they were parallel, but there were also different things that were going on. So, for example, we know here in Indianapolis in June 1912 that there was a call for an African American branch of the suffrage association, so, going back to the Indianapolis recorder, African American newspaper here in Indianapolis that continues to be published today, there was a call for a suffrage meeting, and this quotation came from F. B. Ransom, he was of course, the attorney for Madam CJ Walker, and the goal of this meeting was to consider the organization of a branch colored people to be affiliated with the state organization among white people. The object of having a separate organization. It goes on explaining it is only because it is believed that the idea will be more heartily entered into, and so we look at this great call to action and we see the additional women who would work for suffrage, but in the Indianapolis Star, also in 1912, I believe the day is June 22, 1912, there was a letter that was written anonymously that was unsigned to dr. Hannah Graham who at the time was president of the Equal Suffrage Association, and the individual who wrote this letter expressed that,

“It was with deep regret that I read the announcement that a woman’s franchise League of Black women was to be formed in the city. And that you, the president of the Equal Suffrage Association, are going to show your approval of such an action by addressing them.”

So, you can see in this moment there was at least this one person. Dr. Graham expressed being more determined after receiving the letter and ridicules this unsigned note, but at least one item was published in the Indianapolis Stargoing against that, and I listen to Susan talk about and that brings up that point that you know, it was not all, as Susan said, we weren’t all living, playing, worshipping, doing all these things together. there were some concerns there. At least by some people.

Beckley: Yea, I’d never heard that quote before, so thanks for bringing that to us. That’s really interesting. I think something that a lot of especially white historians are struggling with, here in the centennial of women’s suffrage is how to celebrate the accomplishments of both white and Black suffragists while also acknowledging this unsavory part of it that Black women were excluded and that white women did make the choice to exclude them. It wasn’t just happenstance. And kind of acknowledging that the fight for suffrage wasn’t over with the 19th Amendment. How do we balance those two narratives, how do we make sure that we are telling a more full story?

Dotson: Well I suggest, what you just said though, is an interesting word choice. That because of unsavory behaviors. And as much as I agree with that statement, I also posit that it was also the lay of the land. It was how it was. So, to suggest that all of the sudden this one movement for the common good of all women eradicated, eliminated, all these other structures and systems and mores and behaviors of the day, so that women could vote – women behaved the way society behaved. And I think the narrative is what it is. The narrative will speak for itself. And I think that’s where we get caught in this emotionalism. When we are doing a backwards glance at things that are less than flattering to a group or a society or an individual –  nobody wants to be that one. Nobody wants to be that bad guy. And it’s not so much being bad guys, it’s just how people were. It is how they country and individuals, municipalities, states, how people behaved. And you may not dislike me and one suffragist didn’t dislike the other on a personal level, but they weren’t friends. They weren’t colleagues, generally speaking. The newspapers were separated for a reason, where you could live was separated by law and by de facto, de jure segregation and by behaviors. So, why are we upset about what it was? That’s what it was. And, even when someone, I’m going to take it to a national level and then bring it back to local. Let’s look at Ida B. Wells. Ida B. Wells is a national figure –  Is traveling around the country –  she was a woman, a writer, a journalist, an author, an activist, a wife, a mother, and she knows some of the leaders of these suffrage movements. She knew Frederick Douglass. She knew Stanton, and others. And guess what? So what? They were not totally embarking and embracing on her friendship. She was asked to march during the 1913 suffrage march at the back of the line. She said no. And so she waited and, as the story’s been told often, that she waited on the sidewalk until the delegates from her state of Illinois came past and then she got off the sidewalk and got in line with them. It changes what? It changes nothing. Now, there were other women who marched at the back of a line. Who did – do we know all of whom they were? No, sadly we don’t. But we do know that the founding members of Delta Sigma Theta sorority, who were collegiate from Howard University, and their advisor Mary Church Terell, was also and activists and a suffragist in her own right, marched – they decided to March at the back. Now, who else was there, we don’t know unfortunately. Do they get more credit for coming? No. In an overall National narrative? Generally, no. in the southern women, that was one of the reasons, that was the main reason why they were being asked not to come,  was as not to disenfranchised the women and I sat the women in the Southern States from coming. So, then you have Ida B. Wells who was an activist, and not just for suffrage, fighting for anti- lynching legislation, and writing about it. And traveling the country. And she too, is friends to madam C.J. Walker and they are contemporaries and their fight and struggle for equity, parody, anti-lynching legislation, anti-racism. And because of our dividing line and how we live – as I said, how we live, work, play, and worship – there are lots of people in the general populace who don’t know who Ida B. Wells is. Who may not know who Madame Walker is, right here in Indianapolis, besides from the theater Legacy that has been left behind on the footprint. And that Miss Barnes and she and others were colleagues, compatriots, writing checks, putting money where their mouth is, and not just for the Black community, but for also for women. But the question then is how do you fix a narrative? I don’t know that you fix a narrative, you just tell the truth. The truth and distinctive facts. Could people get along? Most certainly. But where people encouraging each other to come and join the frey and the fight? Clearly they weren’t. Or we would see more evidence of it. And it’s not just because the documents were lost. That’s just not how people were aligning themselves. And I guess in some regards, no different than what we see even today. Where people live, although we can come and go and live and work and play relatively fluidly, but we still tend to not always intersect in these very mixed environments. So, then it was not permissible by mores, standards, laws, the written and the unwritten. So, I don’t know that it – I don’t know that there will be more evidence that has ever presented that will make the movement look like the women’s march that we saw in 2016. Because it’s just not how we lived.

Beckley:  So, I’m kind of hearing that just tell the story how they happened and we don’t need to tiptoe around it but we just need to tell the facts and, you know, celebrate what they did and include all parts of the stories and include that context of the time that is so important. We keep coming back to the context of the time and I acknowledged and how people lived influenced how they did suffrage work. So, I think that’s really an interesting and very simple way of looking at it. It doesn’t need to be some big breakthrough that we have. We’ve just got to tell all of the stories.

Hall-Dotson:  Yeah, there isn’t a Kumbaya quote-unquote breakthrough.  there isn’t a moment where we can look back and say, “see I told you, there is an equal amount of Black women and white women all and the room fighting for suffrage.”  And if there was one, it was one. Maybe a one and done. And so the quotes that we get in the scholarship where the women are included – where there were Black women at a meeting – it wasn’t often and it wasn’t unilateral across the Nation. And one or two or three or five out of, say, 55 is not an equitable illustration of integration in the movement. And inclusion. So, I’m not suggesting that there isn’t any. There is some. But, it is far and few between and it is one in a few and it is not what we saw for example, and Washington and 2016. So, it is very different. And for a very different reasons. Not just because I don’t want to be with you because you’re Black. I don’t want to be with you because you’re a working-class woman. You know, women who were sitting at the Propylaeum having tea were not socializing with the women who were their help. Whether they were Black or white. Did they want them to have the vote? I don’t know. Probably not. So, there’s layers to this moment. Because not most Black women were like Madam Walker, but there is a community across this country of affluent educated, African Americans. As well as working class and under-educated, and in some cases still uneducated, from the vestiges of it being illegal to be educated, Black Americans who have now migrated from the south clear across the Midwest and the North. And people’s relationships are based on so many other things and not just on the color of their skin.

Beckley: Kisha, Did you have anything to add?

Tandy:  I am in complete agreement with Susan and I would just add that going back to where Black women, African American women, we’re looking at their clubs, looking at their organizations, is how we tell our story. And how we share that history. I think about Lillian Thomas Fox and her involvement with the National Association of Colored Women –  the work and effort that she was doing here in Indianapolis –  helping to establish with other Black women a clinic and a camp for- a place for patients for Black patients with TB, and just all the work that she did. Those important stories and her activism that led to, not necessarily led to but helped her to be involved and working for these things. And the idea that she was fighting against Jim Crow laws. Fighting against so many things that not only she had to deal with, but Black women, Black men, her family, her community, her fighting, just fighting for all of those different things. And so, we have to look at so many things as we tell and share that story. And knowing that, I know it’s been brought up already, but 1965 is such an important moment and such an important place in time, and even looking at today, as far as the vote and African Americans and African American women having the right to vote. So, those things and, you know, looking at that time frame and at that time span and saying, I’m going historically way back and also looking forward and beyond 1920. Because that is so important to the story and to the history. And telling a fuller story. I appreciate you, Susan, for bringing this relationship and network among women and then having friendships and working together. And striving for achievement and you mentioned Carrie Barnes, who was president of that chapter that started back in 1912. But, she and Madame Walker had been in – had participated in a number of other meetings where they were together and 1911, so a year before this meeting which was called. And Madame Walker talks about having extreme care for Carrie Barnes when she died, Carrie Barnes Ross died in 1918 and there is a letter at the Indiana Historical Society and they digitized collections where it talks, Madame Walker is writing to F. B. Ransom and it’s dated April 30th 1918, and she talks about Kerry Barnes Ross dying and that she was sad and that she felt – she had this feeling  as though she had been a daughter to her. And she just had this extreme sadness. But it speaks to that point that Susan was making this whole idea of a network and community. And we see that historically, we see that continuing today. And so I think that those are very important points and things to bring up as we talk about African American women working for the right to vote.

Beckley: I think to kind of wrap up here, I was wondering if both of you would like to share one story or one and a goat that you wish more people knew about either here in Indiana or on the national stage, what is one thing that you wish more people knew about?

Hall-Dotson:  I don’t know that it’s a story about, but it’s definitely sentiments of what it means to get the right to vote and what we do with it. And as women, we are working together, in many cases, they don’t walk in a lock step. They don’t have the same beliefs. And they don’t vote the same ultimately. So there were some women who were very much against women voting. They felt that it was for their husbands, their fathers, their sons, so all women were not unilaterally working and fighting and advocating for women’s right to get the vote. And if we take that through our body politic, what I think is missing often in discussion of suffrage, is getting the right to vote and then what do you do with it. Exercising that right to vote when you can. So, throughout the hundred-year period, how many women elected officials have there been? And where? Who voted for them? Women don’t vote as a block. There’s women who are Republicans there’s women who are Democrats there are women who are independents. They are women who don’t vote at all, still. So, even in the fight what we never look at I don’t think as we celebrate women’s right to vote, there’s this assumption that all women were advocating for women’s right to vote. And I don’t believe that’s so. Cuz it’s not so today. And what did we do with it? And what was the impact and effect of our body electorate – on a national level,  the first woman elected to congress in Indiana was in 1933. The first African American woman was in 1982. That’s Katie Hall out of Gary Indiana, and Julia Carson, the first woman and Indianapolis to go to Congress. But the first Black woman in Congress was Shirley Chisum and that was in 1969. But Virginia Jencks and 1933 out of Tera ho was the first woman from Indiana to go to Congress. And how many more women can we really think about? Just off the top of our heads I think we would have to really take a deeper Deep dive and look, in general, and it’s not that many. And why is that? If we are perpetually covering at 50% of the population and if we take partisan politics out of the equation, why are there so little, so few? All across the nation. And we have come a mighty long way. Women in politics and you see us from in the Senate now even a candidate for vice president. And judges and attorney generals and city council representatives across the country. That why so few and why so hard when we are about 50% of the population and most cases.

Beckley:  Yeah, I think that well I hope, with the centennial kind of wrapping up here in the next few months, that will give us a chance to use the research done for that as a springboard into some of this, what you’re talking about, looking at voting patterns and women actually participating in the political process. Because I think that’s just as important. Getting the vote is obviously, a milestone, but it’s just a milestone on the road to what we’ve actually done with the vote. So, I’m interested to see the scholarship that is going to be coming up in the next few years on that sort of thing.

Kisha, did you have a story or an anecdote or anything that you wish more people knew about?

Tandy:  I would just like to add, tell the stories of African-American women. And invite women living today to come and to tell their stories. So that a more complete history can be shared. There is –  I was working on this project –  this was, truly, my research project for me, to see what I could find, what information was available, using African American newspapers, using African American manuscript collections or whatever I could find to be able to bring information to be able to share, and finding women who had been in Indiana, I was very specifically  focused on women from Indiana and trying to find as many people outside of Indianapolis as well to be able to help tell the stories. And finding women who have lived in Indiana, had gone on to other places and who were making a difference there. So, being able to have their voices, having their records, the narratives, being able to access that, is so important. And like you, I am also excited about the scholarship that is coming. One individual that I am looking forward to reading her book, I have not read the book yet, but it was actually just published, but I have been listening to her talk and to share the information that she has found and she did look nationally, is Martha S. Jones  and her book Vanguard: How Black Women Broke barriers, Won the Vote, and Insisted on Equality for All. And so, I am definitely looking forward to continuing to research to see what else I can find about what happened in Indiana and looking forward to seeing what else is out there. But also, just researching and telling the stories of African American women and Indiana.

Beckley:  I know that the Indiana Historical Bureau is also very interested in those stories and we’re looking to you and to others to find those stories and we are doing our own work so, hopefully this is, while it is the centennial celebration, it’s also the spark that we needed to kind of start a lot of these conversations like the one that we’re having today, to continue into the future and the future historians will pick up the threads and be able to work off of what we’re doing now.

Thank you both so much for being on the show today and I really appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.

Hall-Dotson: Thanks for having me.

Tandy: Thank you so much.

Beckley:  Once again, I want to thank both Kisha and Susan for taking the time to talk with me today. If you’re interested in learning more about what their work or about Black stop or just here in Indiana or nationally, we have some useful links in the show notes which can be found at blog.history.in.gov. we’ll be back next month with a new episode of talking Hoosier history. And in the meantime, follow the Indiana Historical Bureau on Facebook and Twitter for daily doses of Indiana history tidbits. Subscribe, rate, and review Talking Hoosier history wherever you get your podcast. Thanks for listening!

*Should be 1903

*Should be 1904

Show Notes for Giving Voice: Susan Hall Dotson and Kisha Tandy

Learn more about this topic with the sources below:

Martha Jones, Vanguard: How Black Women Broke Barriers, Won the Vote, and Insisted on Equality for All, Basic Books, 2020.

Christine Fernando, “Black History is American History: How Black Hoosiers Contributed to Suffrage Movement,” Indianapolis Star. 

Melissa Block, “Yes, Women Could Vote After the 19th Amendment – But Not All Women. Or Men,” NPR. 

Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, African American Women in the Struggle For the Vote, 1850-1920Indiana University Press, 1998.

Lillian Thomas Fox, Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame.

Mr. A, Majors, M.D., Noted Negro Women: Their Triumphs and ActivitiesDonohue & Henneberry, Printers, 1983.

Afro-American Encyclopedia; Thoughts, Doings, and Sayings of the Race, Haley & Florida, 1895.

Indiana Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs marker: https://www.in.gov/history/markers/227.htm

THH Episode 37: Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Dawns

Transcript and Show Notes for Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Dawns

Jump to Show Notes

Beckley: This is the second of a two-part series covering the long path to women’s suffrage in Indiana. If you haven’t listened to the first installment of this episode – Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Comes Slowly, you might want to do that now as it covers the roots of the suffrage movement in the Hoosier state.

[Cannon blast]

Beckley: The sound of cannon fire rang out in the gloomy pre-dawn air of a neighborhood just northwest of downtown Indianapolis. People sprang from bed, ready for a day that loomed large before them. But this wasn’t the beginning of a battle, rather, it was the end of a war – the war for the 19th amendment. The women of the fifth ward, a predominately African American voting district, rose with the sun, donned their hats, coats, and shoes, and by the time polls opened at 8:00, were waiting in lines to cast their first ever ballot. Some of these women may have been involved in the suffrage movement for decades– had been marching, speaking, petitioning…demanding the vote – and now, on November 2, 1920, their voices would finally, officially be heard. A few of these women appear in that day’s issue of the Indianapolis News under the headline “Waiting their turn to vote.” They had been waiting long enough, now was the time for action.

I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Talking Hoosier History.

When we left off in the last episode, we were on the precipice of a global event that would change the landscape of the suffrage fight – World War I. But even before U.S. entry into the war, there was a lot for Hoosier women to be hopeful about when it came to suffrage. The 1917 legislative session brought about three major suffrage measures, all of which passed.

Each of the these differed slightly – the Woman’s Suffrage Act proposed partial Suffrage, allowing women to vote for some state and local officials, presidential electors, and delegates to the proposed state Constitutional Convention while leaving out voting for higher offices such as governor, state representatives, or senators. The second measure, the Beardsley Amendment, would strike the word “male” as criteria to vote from the state constitution, ultimately granting women the same suffrage rights as men. If passed, the amendment would be heard again in the 1919 legislative session before being put to a referendum where, ironically, only men would vote on whether women would earn the full rights of citizenship. The third and final measure took the form of a Constitutional Convention Bill. The hope was that with a brand-new constitution, universal suffrage could be written into the new document, making women’s suffrage less susceptible to being overturned. Each of these bills passed relatively easily and each held the tantalizing possibility of expanded voting rights for women.

Well, there it is. One year, three passed suffrage laws. That’s equal voting rights for women in Indiana, done and dusted, right? Of course not. When has it ever been that easy? In May, less than two months after the legislative session adjourned, the Constitutional Convention law was challenged in court on the grounds that it was an “unnecessary public expense.” In August, the partial suffrage law was also challenged on similar grounds – it would simply cost too much to effectively double the number of voters in the state. So, the two laws that would have immediately granted women in Indiana the right to vote were in jeopardy with the third stuck in limbo for at least two years.

Despite these blows, suffrage workers in the state pressed on. The Legislative Council of Indiana Women was crucial both in garnering support for the cause throughout the state and in getting the 1917 suffrage measures passed. Once that was done, they turned their sights to the next step – educating women about politics and registering them to vote. The LCIW and other suffrage groups weren’t going to let the uncertain future of the suffrage measures stop them from being prepared If the laws were to make it through the courts unscathed.

As historian Anita Morgan writes in her book, We Must be Fearless: The Woman Suffrage Movement in Indiana, Cora Goodrich, first lady of Indiana, called for the political education of Hoosier Women at a celebration of the suffrage gains at the 1917 session, saying:

Goodrich read by Marino: We have been given the sacred power to help make a new constitution. We are not trained servants and it is most important that we study the need of the present constitution and that we make no mistake as to the attitude of the delegates toward prohibition and suffrage.

Beckley: Various suffrage organizations around the state – The Legislative Council, Equal Suffrage Association, Woman’s Franchise League, and others – answered that call. According to Morgan, the Equal Suffrage Association hosted civics courses, and included provisions for women who worked outside of the home who wished to attend. The Indianapolis Star began publishing a series of articles aimed at educating women about the mechanics of voting, authored by Franchise League member Kate Thompson. African American women’s groups invited Dr. Amelia Keller and Cora Goodrich to speak about citizenship issues at an Indianapolis church. Grant County held suffrage schools for both men and women at the local library. But all of that work to educate the women of Indiana would have been for naught if they weren’t registered to vote when election day finally arrived.

As registration opened, it was clear that this wouldn’t be an issue. Suffrage organizations mobilized to ensure that the women of Indiana would be ready for their day at the polls. Franchise League members became notaries and organized trips into rural farming communities, bringing with them blank registration forms to ensure women who were unable to register in person were able to vote. Franchise League member Celeste Barnhill spent all her spare time taking incorrectly filled out registration forms back to women to have them corrected, ensuring they would be able to vote when the time came. In one rather amusing instance, she returned a form to a woman who had failed to provide her year of birth on the form. When asked to correct it, the registrant in question stated,

[Record scratch]

Quote read by Marino: Oh, I didn’t forget it. I just thought it wasn’t any of your business.

Beckley: In the end, Mrs. Barnhill convinced the registrant to fill out the correct information, and one more woman was ready to make her voice heard.

In some places, women registrants outnumbered men. Women of all ages and from all backgrounds rushed to get their registration cards in. In Muncie, Nelle Reed registered to vote because her husband died of alcoholism and through Prohibition legislation, she hoped to prevent her son from suffering the same fate. She was illiterate, so she simply signed an “X” for her name. In Vanderburgh County, all women at the Rathbone Home, an institution for single women, registered to vote. Gary’s first registrant was a 23-year-old woman, while in Bedford, one woman in her 80s and another in her 90s were driven to their registration site, where they signed up with trembling hands. And, in Bartholomew County, Black women were at the front of the registration line.

Unfortunately, all of this mobilization, excitement, and anticipation was for nothing. Defeat came quick on the heels of the successes of the 1917 legislative session. In July, the Indiana Supreme Court declared the Constitutional Convention law unconstitutional and in October the Woman’s Suffrage Act of 1917, Hoosier women’s last hope for immediate, albeit partial suffrage, was ruled unconstitutional just 11 days before the election.

Interwoven through all of this – in between the education, the push for registration, and the ongoing court battles, women were engaged in war work. Upon the U.S. entry into World War I on April 6, 1917, suffrage organizations were in the ideal position to organize Hoosier women to help the war effort – after all, they’d been organizing women for decades.

Just as factories on the home front shifted from peacetime to wartime production, suffrage organizations utilized their pre-existing networks to efficiently adapt to war work. To them, war work and suffrage went hand in hand – what better way to convince skeptics of their loyalty and patriotism? Surely, if they assisted in this war, which was framed as a defense of Democratic principles, the injustice of the women’s disenfranchisement couldn’t persist much longer.

Women around the state threw themselves into their work. Before the state itself organized for defense, Julia E. Landers of Indianapolis organized the Indiana League for Woman’s Service, which was tasked with helping the Jeffersonville quartermaster locate women willing to make 2 million shirts for the army. Ten thousand southern Indiana women answered the call and made the garments in their homes.

Katherine Greenough of Indianapolis led Woman’s Franchise League Liberty Loan drives and devised a plan to encourage League members to purchase bonds. Her efforts raised over one and a half million dollars in bonds. When the state did organize for defense, one woman was named to serve on each county defense council. That woman would establish a Woman’s Committee who would then organize the women throughout the county. Franchise League member Julia Henderson organized the Fourteen-Minute women, who traveled throughout the state giving talks on war-related topics such as food conservation, food production, registration of women for war work, child welfare, liberty loans, and home economics.

Marion County’s African American woman’s committee, made up of the Black members of the Marion County Council of Defense Woman’s Committee’s, named chairwomen to oversee food production, child welfare, foreign relief, education, public speaking, and more. Indianapolis’s Ella Clay organized Black women to deliver talks throughout the city, similar to those given by the Fourteen Minute Women. Flanner House, an African American Community Center, hosted first-aid and nurse training classes, where over 200 women were instructed. Flanner House also hosted its own Red Cross unit, which, according to Dr. Morgan, made items like pajamas, shirts, and surgical bags for the war effort.

When it was all said and done, 626,292 Hoosier women had registered for war work, the second highest number in the nation. Unlike during the Civil War, women didn’t drop the suffrage cause completely during this crisis.

Members of the Indianapolis branch of the Franchise League spent much of their time at the Red Cross workroom at the W.H. Block Department Store knitting socks and slippers for soldiers alongside volunteers from local charities and churches. But more than knitting was happening in the workroom – as the Hoosier Suffragist put it,

Suffragist read by Marino: A great opportunity is at hand, not to make suffragists into Red Cross workers, but to make workers into suffragists.

Beckley: When there was a lull in war work, League members hit the streets to recruit new members, collected signatures for a petition to Congress regarding a federal amendment, went on suffrage auto tours similar to those mentioned in the last episode, and created suffrage schools to prepare speakers.

One such “Suffrage School” was organized in June 1918 in Merom, Indiana. This week-long course taught attendees how to spread the “suffrage doctrine,” as they put it. The women studied topics such as the history of suffrage, speaking, organizing, and finances. Students took a journalism class and practiced writing for publications. They would debate each other about suffrage, one taking the pro and one the anti side. They practiced their public speaking skills in front of crowds in nearby towns, and there was even day care provided for attendees with young children.

It was essential for Hoosier suffragists to be prepared – the 1919 legislative session was just around the corner and with it came another chance to finally secure the vote. As the 1919 session opened, the playing field was set:  two of the three suffrage measures passed in 1917 had been ruled unconstitutional. The Beardsley Amendment, which would remove the “male” qualifier from the Indiana state constitution, was up for the second vote in the General Assembly. If it passed again, it would go to a referendum. World War I had ended just two months earlier, and women, who had worked tirelessly throughout the war in support of their government, expected equal voting rights to follow. Both the house and senate had expressed support for increased woman suffrage. Governor Goodrich himself urged the General Assembly to enact suffrage legislation in his opening address. Change was in the air.

But, this was the fight for suffrage. It had been dragging on and on for well over half a century, and by this time, after so many defeats, many suffragists saw a federal amendment as their only hope for a suffrage measure that wouldn’t inevitably be overturned in the courts. And there was a version of the Anthony Amendment – which would become the 19th Amendment – winding its way through the United States Congress after having failed to pass in September 1918 by just two votes. However, suffragists had learned not to put all their eggs in one basket – they continued to push for suffrage measures at the state level.

The first new suffrage measure, created by Franchise League leaders, was for partial suffrage. Similar to that passed in the 1917 session but revised to resolve the issues deemed unconstitutional, this bill passed easily. Then came a bit of a curve ball that’s hard to understand, even with the hindsight we have today.

On January 14, 1919, the Indianapolis News announced that the Beardsley Amendment, which was up for the second and final vote before going to a referendum, would be withdrawn and re-introduced as a new amendment, which would have to once again pass two separate legislative sessions and a referendum. This was being done with the support of the Woman’s Franchise League. From our standpoint, this seems unthinkable – suffragists had been working to secure the vote for nearly 70 years and this was the closest they had ever come to getting a constitutional amendment passed. Why allow it to be delayed for at least another two years? The answer seems to be two-fold.

First, the General Assembly had several other amendments it wanted to vote on in the 1919 session, but if the suffrage bill was passed and put to a referendum, all others would be put on hold until the next session, two years later. Thus, a new Beardsley amendment could be proposed in 1919 and passed in 1921 without obstructing the other proposals.

The second reason for the withdrawal and re-introduction of the Beardsley Amendment is . . . less bureaucratic and more distasteful.  The new version of the amendment, like the original, struck out the word “male,” thus providing full suffrage to women. It also removed suffrage rights from immigrants voting on what was called “first papers,” which were basically forms proving that an immigrant intended to apply for citizenship. Throughout the war, suffragists had often used anti-immigrant language to make a case for the vote, capitalizing on increased nativism brought about by the war. They painted immigrants as ignorant, disloyal, and undeserving of a say in governing a country that was not “theirs,” and they contrasted them with the educated, loyal, all-American women who had worked so hard for the war effort. In August 1918, Indianapolis Suffragist Grace Julian Clarke wrote:

Clarke read by Marino: Another reason for considering suffrage a war measure is found in the fact that while we are sending millions of our young men across the water to fight for democracy and civilization, being thereby deprived of their votes in important elections here at home, we yet permit millions of pro-Germans to exercise this function.

Beckley: It’s hard, even for me, to look at my historical heroes and see their flaws. It would be easy for us to avoid the nativism of the suffrage movement and celebrate women’s suffrage wholeheartedly. It would also be easy to portray Indiana’s suffrage movement as being integrated harmoniously – Black and white suffragists working side by side for a common goal. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. There were Black suffragists across the state, but particularly in Indianapolis, and Black women attended large, integrated suffrage meetings and hosted white suffragists at their own meetings– but in reality, Black and White suffragists often worked parallel to each other (even if fighting for the same goal) and operated out of separate groups.  As Susan Hall-Dotson, African-American history collections coordinator at the Indiana Historical Society, points out in an interview with the Anderson Herald Bulletin, Black and white women living in Indiana in the early 20th century were segregated, and we had a largely segregated suffrage movement as a result.

Ignoring these unsavory elements of historical events and figures to only focus on the positives is dishonest and just bad history – we must recognize the flaws of these figures and doing so doesn’t erase their achievements – it makes them human.

This new Beardsley Amendment, which at once expanded and contracted voting rights throughout the state, passed easily and would be voted on again in 1921. However, by then, the “Suffrage question” was settled, or at least, so it seemed.

The United States Congress finally passed the 19th Amendment to the Constitution in June 1919, after five failed attempts in as many months. Indiana suffragists immediately began calling for the governor to convene a special session of the General Assembly to ratify the 19th Amendment. The governor, however, wanted to wait to see what other states would do before spending time and money on a special session. Months later, with still no sign of a special session, Franchise League president Helen Benbridge delivered petitions signed by 86,000 Hoosiers, saying,

Benbridge read by Marino: As we believe that the calling of a special session of the Indiana legislature is a matter of a few days away, or at the outside, a few weeks, we want you to realize what an enormous demand there is over the state for ratification.

Beckley: Finally, Governor Goodrich agreed to call a special session, as long as suffrage was the only topic of discussion.

On January 16, 1920, Indiana ratified the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution. The vote was 43 to 3 in the Senate and 93 to 0 in the House.  Hundreds of women were in attendance, adorned with the yellow flower that represented suffrage. The Indianapolis News reported:

News read by Marino: The main floor and gallery of the senate were packed when the suffrage resolution was taken up. Several hundred women were in the chamber, and standing room was at a premium.

Beckley: The News continued:

News read by Marino: As soon as the house passed the resolution, a band in the hall began playing ‘Glory, Glory Hallelujah.’ Women joined in the singing. Scores rushed into the corridor and began embracing. Many shook hands and scenes of wildest joy and confusion prevailed.

Beckley: Women literally danced in the halls – Indiana’s first lady Cora Goodrich was seen waltzing with Mary Tarkington Jameson as the band played “Until We Meet Again.”

Governor Goodrich signed the ratification resolution surrounded by the state’s leading suffrage workers, who had dedicated their lives to this very achievement.

Seven months later, on August 18, 1920, when Tennessee became the 36th state to ratify the amendment and the measure became law, women around the Hoosier state celebrated. In Terre Haute, women staged a “whale of a parade,” and families lined the streets shouting and cheering as they passed. Suffrage workers in Fort Wayne hired an airplane to drop thousands of circulars over the city announcing the victory and encouraging women to register. In Indianapolis, women hosted a “jollification luncheon” at the Claypool hotel where the state song of Tennessee was sung as a tribute to the state that sealed the suffrage deal. On August 28 at noon, cities and town around the state sounded factory steam whistles and church bells in a collective celebration of the end of a struggle that had lasted lifetimes.

The 19th amendment was a monumental accomplishment, imbuing women with the full rights of citizenship. It expanded voting rights to millions. But not to all people living in America.  Barriers preventing Native men and women from voting weren’t removed nation-wide until 1947. Asian Americans weren’t eligible for citizenship, and thus to vote, until 1952. While there were no state-wide legal restrictions placed on Black voters in Indiana, voter suppression laws in southern states limited Black men and women from voting until the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Even in northern states, like Indiana, intimidation tactics employed by groups like the KKK suppressed Black turnout throughout the 1920s. Today, American citizens living in Washington D.C. and U.S. territories have no vote in congress, while voter I.D. laws, voter purges, and the disenfranchisement of felons disproportionately affect people of color. The 19th amendment was a monumental accomplishment, but it was just a step on the long road to equality that we’re still travelling today.

Once again, I’m Lindsey Beckley and this has been Talking Hoosier History. Talking Hoosier History is produced by the Indiana Historical Bureau, a division of the Indiana State Library This episode was written me, Lindsey Beckley, with research supplied by Jill Weiss Simins and Nicole Poletika. Sound engineering by Justin Clark and production by Jill Weiss Simins. We’ll be back in two weeks with another installment of Giving Voice. Until then, find us on Facebook and Twitter as the Indiana Historical Bureau and remember to like, rate, and review Talking Hoosier History wherever you get your podcasts.

Show Notes for Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Dawns

Newspapers

“Suffrage Petitions are Signed by 86,000,” Indianapolis News, November 18, 1916, 23, Newspapers.com.

“Senate Passes Bill to Remodel Capitol,” Indianapolis News, January 25, 1917, 17, Newspapers.com.

“Convention Bill Is Signed,” Indianapolis Star, February 2, 1917, 10, Newspapers.com.

“House Now to Act on Suffrage, Richmond Item, February 9, 1917, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Department Club Action,” Indianapolis News, February 6, 1917, 22, Newspapers.com.

“Governor to Sign Maston Bill Monday,” Richmond Item, February 25, 1917, I, Newspapers.com.

“Indiana Suffrage Victory Important, Says Mrs. Catt,” Indianapolis News, March 5, 1917, 22, Newspapers.com.

“Suffrage Resolution Adopted by the House,” Indianapolis News, March 5, 1917, 16, Newspapers.com.

“The Star’s Home Study Class for Women Voters,” Indianapolis Star, March 25, 1917, 33, Newspapers.com.

“First Women to Register,” Indianapolis News, June 30, 1917, 17, Newspapers.com.

“Indiana Women Vitally Interested in the Constitutional Convention as Shown by Their Rush to Qualify as Voters at the Special Elections,” Indianapolis News, June 30, 1917, 17, Newspapers.com.

“Stiff Blow Is Given by High Court,” (Muncie) Star Press, July 14, 1917, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Indiana Women Denied the Right to Vote; Marion Superior Court Holds the Law Is Unconstitutional,” Princeton Daily Clarion, September 17, 1917, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Will Talk Wherever They Get the Chance,” Indianapolis News, October 16, 1917, 1.

“Suffrage Law Is Invalid; Women Rest Hope on Congress,” Indianapolis Star, October 27, 1917, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Suffrage School is in Full Swing Today,” Rushville Republican, June 25, 1918, 6, Newspapers.com.

Grace Julian Clarke, “Public Opinion Much Changed as to Suffrage” Indianapolis Star, August 11, 1918, 37.

“Suffrage Amendment of 1917 to Give Way,” Indianapolis News, January 14, 1919, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Indiana Suffrage Plans Started,” Indianapolis News, January 16, 1919, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Suffrage Act Is Now Signed by Governor,” Indianapolis News, February 7, 1919, 20, Newspapers.com.

“Senate Adopts Suffrage by Vote of 56 to 25,” Indianapolis Star, June 5, 1919, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Women After Extra Session,” Indianapolis Star, June 5, 1919, 1, Newspapers.com.

“G.O.P. Assembly leaders Seek Quiet Session” Indianapolis Star, January 16, 1920, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Scores of Women Attend Session,” Indianapolis News, January 16, 1920, 1, Newspapers.com.

“In Any Event This was a Parade. An All-Auto Victory Procession,” Indianapolis News, August 21, 1920, 1.

“Women Parade at Terre Haute, Indianapolis Times, August 21, 1920, 3, Newspapers.com.

“Suffragists Jollify Over Ratification,” Indianapolis News, August 28, 1920, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Celebrate for Suffrage Today,” Fort Wayne Sentinel, August 28, 1920, 2, Newspapers.com.

“Suffrage Workers Celebrate Victory,” Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, August 29, 1920, 12, Newspapers.com.

“Women Celebrate Suffrage Victory,” Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, September 9, 1920, 13, Newspapers.com.

“Voters of Indiana Go to Polls Early,” Indianapolis News, November 2, 1920, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Riot of Colors in Voting Line,” Indianapolis News, November 2, 1920, 1, Newspapers.com.

“Voting Described as Heavy and Fast,” Indianapolis News, November 2, 1920, 1, 10, Hoosier State Chronicles.

Publications

The Hoosier Suffragist, August 1917, 3.

The Hoosier Suffragist, September 1917, 2.

The Hoosier Suffragist, September 1917, 3.

The Hoosier Suffragist, October 1917, 1.

The Hoosier Suffragist, April 1918, 3.

The Hoosier Suffragist, June 1918, 1.

The Hoosier Suffragist, June 1918, 2.

Books

Anita Morgan, We Must Be Fearless: The Woman Suffrage Movement in Indiana, Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society Press, 2020.

Further Reading

On Black Suffragists:

Melissa Block, Yes, Women Could Vote After the 19th Amendment – But Not All Women. Or MenNPR, August 26, 2020.

Rebecca R. Bibbs, Historian: Suffrage largely was white women’s movement(Anderson) Herald Bulletin, August 22, 2020.

Christine Fernando, ‘Black history is American history’: How Black Hoosiers contributed to suffrage movementIndyStar, August 27, 2020.

“Leaving Party Politics to Man:” How Some Hoosier Women Worked Against Suffrage

Anti-suffrage booth at the 1915 Old Home Days in Skaneateles, New York, courtesy of New York Heritage Digital Collections.

It is easy to assume that women unanimously supported woman’s suffrage, while men, clinging to their role as the households’ sole political actor, opposed it. However, this was not the case. In 1914, suffrage leader Alice Stone Blackwell wrote, “the struggle has never been a fight of woman against man, but always of broad-minded men and women on the one side against narrow-minded men and women on the other.”[i]

With the centennial of women’s suffrage upon us, we celebrate the determination of those women who fought for so long to secure their own enfranchisement. Understandably, many examinations of the suffrage movement only briefly touch on organized opposition of the movement, if at all. This is likely because it is much easier for us to identify with suffragists than it is with their counterparts. However, this lack of coverage can lead to the assumption that the anti-suffrage movement was weak or inconsequential compared to that of the pro-suffrage masses. That assumption would be incorrect. According to Historian Joe C. Miller, organized anti-suffragists outnumbered organized pro-suffragists until 1915, just five years before the ratification of the 19th Amendment. [ii]

Suffrage Madonna postcard from 1909, showing the fear of anti-suffragists that women with the vote would leave men to care for their families. Courtesy of Smithsonian Institution.

In the wake of suffrage gains in western states, anti-suffragists began to organize in 1895, forming the Massachusetts Association Opposed to the Further Extension of Suffrage to Women. Later, women formed similar organizations in New York (1895) and Illinois (1906). In 1911, leaders within these groups came together to establish the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage (NAOWS), which led to increasing organization on a national scale. By 1916, when pro-suffragists finally outnumbered antis, NAOWS claimed to have organized resistance in 25 of the 48 states.[iii]

You may be wondering why so many women felt strongly about legislation that we would consider to go against their best interests. That’s a difficult question to answer since, as with any movement, each woman would have had her own reasons to oppose suffrage. The various pamphlets and broadsides distributed by NAOWS, such as the one below, shed light on their reasoning.

“Why We Oppose Votes for Women,” courtesy of Tennessee Virtual Archive.

Views like those expressed in “Why We Oppose Votes for Women” became even more pervasive throughout 1916 and 1917 in response to a national spike of suffrage activity across the nation.[iv] Some Indiana women belonged to this opposition movement. Hoosier suffragists were working tirelessly to promote three separate bills that could lead to their enfranchisement. In the midst of the 1917 legislative session, anti-suffragists made their appearance in the form of “The Remonstrance,” a petition sent to State Senator Dwight M. Kinder of Indianapolis.

Indianapolis News, January 20, 1917, 7.

This “Remonstrance,” presented to the Indiana General Assembly on January 19, 1917, and subsequently reprinted in Indianapolis newspapers, laid out arguments against suffrage in three broad strokes:

  1. We Believe it is the demand of a minority of the women of our state.
  2. We are opposed to woman suffrage because we believe that women can best serve their state and community by leaving party politics to man and directing their gifts along the lines largely denied to men because of their obligations involved in the necessary machinery of political suffrage.
  3. We believe that with women in party politics there will arise a new party machine with the woman boss in control.

While these are the core arguments presented in the petition, it’s worth reading it in its entirety, as the supporting statements are fascinating. The petition’s arguments are similar to some of those put forth by the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage, and there is a reason for that. On January 13, the Indianapolis News reported that anti-suffragists from Boston had been in the city for two weeks,

prepared to do a big and brave work. They went from house to house telling the poor misguided women of Indianapolis what a dreadful thing would befall them if they obtained equal suffrage. They asked that the women sign a petition against this particular brand of punishment the men of the legislature might mete out to them.

This was the same petition that would land on Senator Kinder’s desk days later. These East Coast anti-suffrage activists, either from the national organization or the closely-related Massachusetts group, came to Indiana, where no anti-suffrage organization existed, to turn women against their own enfranchisement.

While this work did convince some Hoosier women to submit the petition, it wasn’t particularly successful—if anything, the petition generated more support than ever for the suffrage bills before the Indiana General Assembly. While the document claimed to represent the “great majority of women” in the state, it was signed by just nineteen women, all of whom lived in the same upper-class Indianapolis neighborhood and who would likely have traveled in the same social circles. The response from suffrage activists around the state was swift.

Just two days after “The Remonstrance” appeared in Indianapolis papers, the Indianapolis News published an article penned by Charity Dye, an Indianapolis educator, activist, and member of the Indiana Historical Commission (which eventually became the Indiana Historical Bureau). Responding to the antis’ claim that they represented ninety percent of Hoosier women, Dye released the results of a poll taken in the fall of 1916. The women polled were all residents of the Eighth Ward of Indianapolis and each woman could select from “pro,” “anti,” and “neutral,” options. Of 1,044 women polled, 628 (60%) were in favor of suffrage. Dye ends the article, “In view of the fact that nineteen Indianapolis women asserted in The News Saturday that 90 per cent of Indiana women are opposed to suffrage, this is interesting reading.”[v]

Indianapolis News, January 23, 1917, 3.

The next day, women from around the state began sending their own list of nineteen names to newspapers—all in favor of suffrage. First, nineteen librarians and stenographers declared their support for suffrage “for what it will mean to them in the business world.”[vi] Next came nineteen Vassar College graduates, who signed their names “in protest against the assertion of nineteen anti-suffragists that women do not want suffrage.”[vii] Finally, nineteen “professional women,” who held medical degrees added their names “just because it is right.”

As lists of names continued to pour in from around the state, Joint Resolution Number 2, which would have granted Hoosier women full suffrage if passed, was winding its way through the Indiana General Assembly session. Just as enthusiasm for the bill reached its zenith, a new, even more promising prospect appeared when the legislature enacted a Constitutional Convention bill on February 1. According to Historian Anita Morgan, “A new Indiana Constitution could have full suffrage included in the document and eliminate the need to rely on a state law that could be overturned.” Pro-suffrage support for the convention flooded in.

Anti-suffragists saw this as possibly their last chance to block the enfranchisement of women in Indiana and called for a legislative hearing, where they could voice to their grievances.  Their goal was to persuade future members of the Constitutional Convention not to add women’s suffrage to the newly penned constitution. They got their hearing, but it didn’t exactly go as planned. On February 13, 1917, men and women, who supported and opposed suffrage, flooded the statehouse. What followed was hours of “speeches for and against votes for women [which] flashed humor, keen wit and an occasional bit of raillery or pungent sarcasm that brought laughter or stormy cheering.” First, state representatives heard from pro-suffragists, who pointed out that both the House and Senate had already expressed support for suffrage – all that was left now was to hammer out the details. The crowd, overwhelmingly composed of suffrage supporters, cheered throughout the address. Then Mary Ella Lyon Swift, leader of the original nineteen anti-suffrage remonstrants, spoke. She opined:

Suffrage, in my opinion, is one of the most serious menaces in the country today. With suffrage, you give the ballot to a large, unknown, untested class – terribly emotional and terribly unstable. . . If you thrust suffrage upon me you dissipate my usefulness, and in the same way you dissipate the usefulness of the most unselfish, most earnest and most capable women, who are working in their way, attracting no attention to themselves for the good of their country and mankind.

When one representative asked Swift to explain that last statement, she replied that suffrage would make “it necessary for us to fight the woman boss and the woman machine.”

Minnie Bronson, Buffalo Times, March 27, 1909, 2.

There again appears that talking point from the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage, that once women get the vote, they’ll be irrevocably corrupted, with all-female political machines being run by female political bosses. One of the only other female speakers opposing women’s suffrage was Minnie Bronson, the secretary of NAOWS. Bronson addressed the overwhelming presence of pro-suffragists, quipping, “[Anti-suffragists] are not here pestering or threatening you, but are at home caring for their children.” Finally, after hours of  debating, Charles A. Bookwalter, former mayor of Indianapolis, delivered the decisive line, “It is 10:35 o’clock. Suffrage is right and hence inevitable.”[viii]

This hearing seems to have been the last gasp of the anti-suffrage movement in Indiana. While suffrage detractors continued to voice their opposition from time to time, the organized efforts of NAOWS in Indianapolis had come to an end. The nineteen women who sent “The Remonstrance” to the Indiana General Assembly went back to hosting parties, attending literary club meetings, doing charity work and, presumably, not exercising their newly-granted rights when the 19th amendment was ratified in 1920.

[i] Joe Miller, “Never a Fight of Woman Against Man: What Textbooks Don’t Say about Women’s Suffrage,” The History Teacher 48, no. 3 (May 2015): 437.

[ii] Ibid., 440.

[iii] Mrs. Arthur M. Dodge, “Keynote of Opposition to Votes for Women,” Boston Globe, October 15, 1916, 54, accessed Newspapers.com.

[iv] Dr. Anita Morgan, “We Must Be Fearless”: The Woman Suffrage Movement in Indiana (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society Press, 2020), p. 137-138.

[v] Charity Dye, “Gives Suffrage Vote for the Eighth Ward,” Indianapolis News, January 22, 1917, 22, accessed Newspapers.com.

[vi] “Petition of ‘Nineteen’ Stirs the Suffragists,” Indianapolis News, January 23, 1917, 3, accessed Newspapers.com.

[vii] “Protest of Vassar Women in Factor of Equal Suffrage,” Indianapolis News, January 24, 1917, 2, accessed Newspapers.com.

[viii] “Sparks Fly at Hearing for Women,” Indianapolis Star, February 14, 1917, 1, accessed Newspapers.com.

THH Episode 36: Giving Voice: Dr. Nadia Brown

Transcript for Giving Voice: Dr. Nadia Brown

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Beckley: I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Giving Voice.

On today’s installment of Giving Voice, I talk with Nadia E. Brown, a University Faculty Scholar and Associate Professor of Political Science and African American Studies at Purdue University. She specializes in Black women’s politics and holds a graduate certificate in women’s and gender studies. Dr. Brown’s research interests lay broadly in identity politics, legislative studies, and Black women’s studies. Her award-winning book, Sisters in the Statehouse: Black Women and Legislative Decision Making, is how I first came across her work. In this episode, we talk about intersectionality, political representation, and how representation in our country is shifting at this very moment.

And now, Giving Voice.

[intro music]

Beckley: Nadia, thank you so much for being with us today. I really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to speak with us.

Brown:  I’m thrilled. Thank you so much for having me.

Beckley: Awesome. So, I think that to get started, we can kind of start with your work – can you talk a little bit about the work you’ve done with intersectionality and politics? And maybe even give a little bit of a definition for intersectionality. I feel like it’s a big word that is intimidating, but kind of has a simple explanation.

Brown: Sure, yes, so intersectionality is a term that was originally coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, who is a law professor, to really describe the ways that Black women and other marginalized women by race, ethnicity, or class status have difficulty accessing legal remedies to discrimination that they face. And intersectionality is described as the intersections in which – like a street, right? Like, with the intersections in which one meets – racism, sexism, classism, xenophobia, and if a car accident were to happen in the middle of that street – in the middle of that intersection – can we blame the outcome on a car coming down racism road, or is it the car coming down sexism road? But if it happens at the middle of that intersection, is it not the confluence of all those different identities that form the multiple layers of oppression?

And intersectionality comes to us, really, out of this Black feminist home truth: that Black women do not have the luxury of fighting racism or sexism – that they must do both, and that they have a unique identity because of these combined influences of race, sex, class, age, sexual orientation, nativity. And all of these identities make up this one singular identity.

So, in my work, I look at Black women as undertheorized political subjects and use political science to understand how they think and how they operate in our democracy. My work primarily focuses on Black women political elites, mostly elected officials and candidates. However, I’ve started to branch out and do some work in mass political behavior – so what do every day Black women think and how do they relate that to political phenomenon? But I’ve also started to reach out to start to do some broader, I think, more fun work in some ways, on popular culture. And what this work really seeks to do is to challenge the narrative that we can understand through only a race, or a gender, or a class, or a generational viewpoint, how people experience politics and policy. And instead my work wants to make this intervention and say, “no, it’s a lot more complicated – it’s a lot more messy and nuanced.” We have to understand the roles that these other identities play to understand and interact with political phenomenon.

Beckley: That’s great – it sounds like really interesting work. So, kind of going back to our main topic for our main episode, we talked about women’s suffrage in Indiana and women’s suffrage in general. I was wondering – the women who were fighting for that suffrage, they often stated that they wanted the vote in order to enact some of the issues that are more directly related to them and that they felt that they could influence some of those issues better, obviously, with the vote than without. And I was wondering – when women did get the vote, they were able to enact some of those measures – and now that you see – now that we see – more Black women than ever being elected to political positions, what kind of issues do you see them working towards, what are they representing? What are their specific life experiences kind of pushing them to push for?

Brown: Yea, that’s a really important question. Because most times, my research shows that most times policy makers are trying to solve a problem that is informed through their own worldview, okay, so how are we going to think about a political problem that will require a policy solution? And most times, it’s animated out of our own lived experiences or those of others that we’ve come in contact with. And what my research has found is that issues that Black women face are often not championed by white women or Black men. So again, this idea that sharing a race or gender identity will lead elected officials to a set of policy prescriptions that will be impactful for a particular group is just not the case.

So, in my first book, Sisters in the State House, I give an example of domestic violence policy where Black women saw domestic violence advocacy as really failing to prioritize the needs of Black women as survivors and victims. And again, it wasn’t that the elected officials that were not Black women had any kind of malice or ill will – they just had these blind spots up. They didn’t see how domestic violence legislation that they were passing trying to help victims of domestic violence, in many ways, could have unintentional consequences and hurt Black women.

So, an example of that was gun measures, right? And trying to protect people – domestic violence victims – from having guns in the house. But the younger Black women legislators in my study showed that most often the guns that are used against Black women, in terms of intimidation or violence are often not registered in the first place, and if they are registered, they’re usually registered in the name of women, right? So, having their own registered gun used against them.

A more clear cut, kind of easy to see issue happened in the Maryland State Legislature where Maryland had quotas for businesses that should to business with the state. They had quotas for women and quotas for minorities, and this was a long-standing policy in the state for almost 30 years and the state really prided itself on trying to open up avenues for women and minority business owners. And Black women, once elected, came in and said, “What about Black women business owners? Do they fill out the forms as a woman contractor or as a minority contractor?” And the state really scratched their heads here and thought, “Well, this is really a personal issue. Maybe women – Black women – can decide which they want to do. Let them figure out how they want to be assigned.” And this put undue mechanisms that Black women contractors had to go through. Which meant that these women had to go talk to the gendered quota side and say, “Hey, do you guys have any room? Okay, you know, great, we’ll file with you.” Or, if they said no, they’d have to go over to the race side and they’d say, “Hey, contractors who are filling out these forms for being a minority, do you have room over here?” And if they didn’t, they’d have to go back and figure something else out. And so what the Black women legislators said, “Why don’t we just make an exception – or changes the law, so that Black women and women of color don’t have to do all of this extra leg work and that there are quotas written within both this minority and women’s quotas for contracts?”

So, when I started doing this research, it was so telling because the chair of the subcommittee that had worked so hard to put forward these minority contractors as a minority business enterprise was so proud of his work. I mean – I still see his smile when he’s describing to me how he got this through the state legislature and the work he did to expand this program. And when I asked him to talk about challenges that women of color face, he was just crestfallen and he said, “Yea, maybe that’s something.” And kind of abruptly stopped the interview at that point. So, again, I don’t think that anyone was trying to be – you know, have some kind of ill will or bad intention, it was just an oversight. And so, we see that these things happen time and time again in policy making because legislators in a deliberative body in our democracy, come from us, come from our people. And we bring our life experiences into government and if you are only around a certain subset of people, or if you’ve only seen a certain set of experiences, there is a tendency to think that there is not a problem if it doesn’t happen to you or to those that you are most intimately connected with.

And this project that I’m working on now, with the CROWN Act, which is an act that would ban legal discrimination based on the way that Afro-textured hair naturally grows out of people’s heads. And the legislators told me that they held community events, these kind of open town halls where constituents came in and wanted to talk about their own experiences with having their natural Afro-textured hair and being discriminated against. And in some ways it was cathartic for constituents to come in, particularly I was told a story about young med students who were really pushing for this bill in New Jersey because they were afraid that they would not be seen as professional and that they would be unlikely to match – what would this mean for their careers when they had done everything right? You know, go to school, work hard, all those things. And now to be on the precipice of the beginning of their careers and to say, “Well, I might not be able to find a job.” And so, the legislators who help these town halls said it did two things. One, it was cathartic for community members to kind of talk about and explain their challenges with hair. Then, to also have legislators convene this and want to find a way to try to solve this problem. But the other thing that was so eye opening was that legislators who do not have afro-textured hair or do not represent communities with large numbers of people with afro-textured hair said that they never thought that this was a problem. And seeing the outpouring of people who came to tell their stories, who came to implore government officials to do something about this, really changed their mind.

And so, this book that I’m working on now around hair and politics really illuminates how much we, as communities, are still in silos. As people of color, we don’t do hair in public places, you know, we don’t take out braids. So, these are things that majority communities don’t know much about, so had not thought about hair discrimination as a racial issue, right, as part of expanding anti-discrimination things. So, things that were on the books, weather it was with the U.S. military, from school districts, from employers, from other industries like the airlines and food service industries, that had all of these discriminatory policies on the books that said those with Afro-textured hair cannot wear braids, cannot wear dread locks, or would be subject to fines, suspensions, expulsions, for wearing their hair in ways that are culturally significant and can grow and protect ones hair. That was really out of step, right? But without having Black women at the forefront pushing this CROWN Act, this bill would never have happened, and right now, the bill has made its way through 23 states that have either pre-filed or filed this bill.  But it just shows that without other voices at the table, we miss the opportunity to legislate on things that are disproportionately hurting people that have been historically marginalized from politics and policy creation.

Beckley: Absolutely, and I think what you said about not having those experiences yourself – it’s not necessarily that you are intentionally discriminating or intentionally overlooking these issues, it’s just that if you haven’t lived it, you just might not know that it’s even an issue for a lot of people. I know that as a white woman myself, I might not have ever known that natural textured hair is something to be discriminated against until I started looking into the natural hair movement. It’s just so mind-blowing that something as little to me, or, should be to anybody, as wearing your hair as it naturally grows out of your head, can be discriminated against, that’s just kind of mind-blowing, I think to a lot of people. And it shouldn’t be because it happens every day.

Brown: Right. You hit the nail on the head. These are the kind of experiences that require legislation and that require policy makers to take a proactive stance, because they’ve been overlooked for so long, and, again, like you said, this is not something that is done out of malice, but it’s just a blind spot, right? These are spaces where, without walking in someone else’s shoes, we’re ignorant to their experiences and how politics and policies might marginalize them.

Beckley:  Absolutely, and I think that that is one reason that equal representation in government is obviously so very important, because having equal representation in government also means having equal representation of life experiences, and I know that we are very far away from equal representation right now. I was wondering if you see a path forward to help shift that a little bit. And in your studies, have you seen a path that we can take to help even things up a little bit?

Brown: Yea, so I am more optimistic than I have been in a very long time about equal representation. Which sounds so ironic in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of a presidency where the country has become much more divided, but on the sheer numbers side, right, we’re seeing more women that are running for elected office and for the first time in about 10-15 years, we’re seeing more Republican women running for this upcoming 2020 election. The Republican Party has really been hemorrhaging women’s voices and women in leadership and Republican women in the early ‘90s were really a safeguard – again not framing these women as feminists for as championing women’s rights as we see them more popularly, but really in stopping some conservative or really Republican far-right policies that would be detrimental to women’s health and to children’s wellbeing.

So, I am excited to see that. I’m excited, really, on the Democratic side, about the number of women of color that are running. The number of Black women in particular are outpacing other demographic groups of women of color and women that are running on the Democratic side. So, I think that there is hope that average, everyday citizens are seeing that they have something to contribute to politics and are willing to offer themselves up for service. The Women’s March in 2016 – excuse me, 2017 – was the largest single day march, protest, in American history, and has been a sustained movement. The organic Black Lives Matter march and the continued spotlight on the murder of Breanna Taylor that has helped Americans have a conversation on state sponsored violence on Black women kind of vis a vi the say her name movement but in some ways just the spotlight on Breonna Taylor and that has helped us think about other Black women. These are things that are changing the national conversation.

And then, couple this with the Me Too Movement, which was started by a Black woman, Tarana Burke, to really talk about sexual violence towards women of color, and particularly economically marginalized women of color in urban areas, have changed politics and policy, right? Me Too and sexual harassment is at the forefront. Candidates are having to talk about this. Joe Biden, as we know, has vowed to name a woman as his vice-presidential nominee. There’s a large, large push to have him pick a woman of color. And I think none of this would have been possible without the social movements and average everyday citizens saying enough is enough. I’m going to run. I don’t see my issues, my voice, people in my community, people that care about things that animate my life in national politics or in state and local politics, are now stepping up.

So, again, I’m positive, I’m optimistic. The downside – the tremendous downside is, well, what will this look like in reality? I think there’s going to be so many problems with voting that there might be a lot of delays and confusion and opportunity for controlling, white patriarchal, white supremist figures to step in and kind of de-legitimate our election process and to kind of call into question the validity of these candidates and the will of the people.

Beckley:  So, it sounds like overall optimistic, but still cautious of what that might bring in and some of the problems that we might run into in the future.

Brown: Yes. That’s a good way to put it.

Beckley: I think that we’re going to end on that note. I really appreciate you talking with me and taking the time out of your day to discuss some of these issues and I really appreciate your time.

Brown: No problem. This was really enjoyable, and I am happy to do this.

Beckley: Well, thank you again.

Brown: Thanks, Lindsey.

Beckley: Once again, I want to take the time to thank Dr. Brown to take the time to talk with me. If you’re interested in Dr. Brown’s work, we’ve posted links to where you can find it in our show notes, which can be found at blog.history.in.gov. We’ll be back later this month with the second installment of our Indiana women’s suffrage series. In the meantime, follow the Indiana Historical Bureau on Facebook and Twitter for daily doses of Indiana history tidbits. Subscribe, rate, and review Talking Hoosier History wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening.

Show Notes Giving Voice: Dr. Nadia Brown

To learn more about Dr. Brown’s work, visit her website here.

THH Episode 35: Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Comes Slowly

Transcript for Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Comes Slowly

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Crouch: The new day comes slowly, it is true, but none can fail to see that it approaches . . . the women who are asking for political liberty want it chiefly because it will enable them to get certain things . . . When enough women awake to the necessity of these things, then the battle will be won . . . We must reach the ‘women of the long gray streets,’ as well as . . . women of wealth and leisure. This will take time, patience, and tireless effort. A great responsibility rests upon those of us who have heard the call and have taken the yoke upon us. We have the consolation of knowing that ours is perhaps the greatest cause that has ever engaged the attention of the world – it is the cause of human liberty, which will not be attained until woman is recognized as joint partner with man in all the affairs of life.

Beckley: That was Indiana’s Lt. Governor Suzanne Crouch reading from a speech given in 1911 by Hoosier suffragist Grace Julian Clarke.

By 1911, Indiana suffragists crackled with energy, hope, anxiety, and intention. They were a new generation of young activists determined to be the last struggling for the vote. They were peaceful, but radical, both in their demands and the innovative techniques used to gain support for their cause. They were, according to the Indianapolis News, “engaged in warfare—moral warfare—an assault on prejudice and ignorance.”

In this episode, we’ll meet the diverse suffragists who led Hoosier women’s fight for the vote during the re-invigoration of the movement starting around 1911. We’ll follow them as they organize, educate, lobby, protest, and march in the streets. And as we commemorate 100 years of women’s suffrage, we can learn from their struggle. After all, women are still fighting for equality, from equal pay to equal representation in government. And while it may be disheartening that women still haven’t secured an Equal Rights Amendment after generations of work, today’s activists can take some solace in looking to the generations that came before. Suffragists have taught the next generation to organize, agitate, lobby, and most importantly, in the words of Terre Haute suffragist Mabel Curry, they taught us: “We must be fearless.”

I’m Lindsey Beckley, and this is Talking Hoosier History.

Since 1851, Hoosiers from all backgrounds had been clearly, loudly, and bravely demanding the vote. That year, a small group of men and women held Indiana’s first Woman’s Rights Convention in Dublin, Wayne County. There, they passed resolutions that seem surprisingly modern – equal access to employment and education, equal pay for equal work, and the abolishment of laws which discriminated against women. Most importantly, they demanded “the same rights of citizenship with man,” or, simply put, they demanded suffrage.The following year they established the Indiana Woman’s Rights Association (IWRA).

Shrewd leaders emerged. In 1859, Dr. Mary Thomas became the first woman to address the Indiana General Assembly, pointing out the injustice that

Ellis reading Thomas: the law, with its ruthless hand, undertakes to ‘settle her business for her,’ when she had no voice in making that law.

Beckley: Just how frustrating that would be – working to change the laws denying your rights, but being stymied at every turn because you don’t have those very rights you’re working towards.

The Civil War gave Hoosier suffragists hope that they would finally gain their rights. They believed that their work nursing soldiers, running the farms, and raising funds for the war would force lawmakers to recognize their citizenship. They even put their suffrage work on hold to serve their country, proving their dedication to the nation. When the war ended and they were not rewarded with suffrage, they resumed the fight.

The first IWRA meeting after the Civil War, held in 1869, was also the first time historians have been able to document African American women’s participation in the state’s suffrage organizations. At the meeting one woman demanded assurance that Black voices would be included as well. The IWRA agreed. Black women would remain an essential part of the fight for suffrage, especially in Indianapolis. When Black men gained suffrage with the passage of the 15th Amendment in 1870 and women were still left without the vote, disappointed Hoosier women were determined to work more directly for change.

By the 1880s, they shifted their approach to directly lobbying their representatives. Historian Anita Morgan explained that by this point, women recognized that “the path to success for suffrage was persistence and continuous pressure.” But they couldn’t have known just how long it would take to travel that path.

In 1881, it looked like all of their work lobbying and delivering impassioned speeches before the Indiana General Assembly had paid off. A women’s suffrage bill passed both the House and the Senate. Only one, seemingly small technicality stood between Hoosier women and the ballot box. At that time, bills for constitutional amendments had to pass two legislative sessions, so it would have to be brought up for another vote in 1883. Again, Indiana women wrote letters, signed petitions, delivered speeches, and lobbied their representatives, and hundreds of suffragists, both Black and white, gathered at a mass meeting in Indianapolis to make their voices heard. Despite all of this, the suffrage bill wouldn’t even get a hearing in 1883.

In what Dr. Morgan called “a clear case of political chicanery,” suffrage opponents brushed off a dusty rule that stated pending legislation must be printed in full in the House and Senate Journals before it could be voted on in the following session. The suffrage bill somehow-mysteriously-wasn’t printed in 1881 and thus couldn’t be considered in 1883. To get so close to the vote only to be unjustly thwarted was a huge blow to the movement.

Nevertheless, they persisted. Over the following decades, Indiana’s suffragists used political and legal strategies to further their cause. Hoosier women solidified partnerships with national suffrage organizations and spoke before the U.S. Congress. In 1894, Indiana women attempted to vote without a suffrage law, knowing they would be denied, in order to sue for their rights through the court system. Helen Gougar of Lafayette took her case all the way to the Indiana Supreme Court. Despite her argument for the “Constitutional Right[s] of the Women of Indiana,” in which she declared that a “right withheld is a wrong inflicted,”  her appeal failed.

As the nineteenth century gave way to the twentieth, the women’s club movement helped make suffrage more mainstream. It became increasingly clear to the highly educated clubwomen who were interested in political reform that only the vote would allow them to completely achieve their goals.

However, despite being a more mainstream idea, by the turn of the 20th century, after more than fifty years of struggle, the Indiana suffrage movement itself had stagnated. It’s not surprising that after half a century of work, some women were beginning to feel apathetic by the slow pace of change. But that wasn’t the only reason for this stagnation – the movement was also divided along ideological lines and  by the strong personalities of its leaders, who clashed over goals and the methods for achieving them.

Some believed prohibition went hand in hand with suffrage in protecting women from abusive situations and loss of property. Others, including the large number of German immigrants whose cultural celebrations included beer, believed prohibition would drive many away from the cause. Some suffrage supporters thought women should first work for partial suffrage – or the right to vote in limited, local elections. Others believed full suffrage was their natural right and they would settle for nothing less. Some wanted to work for suffrage at the local and state level; others thought only an amendment to the U.S. constitution would guarantee the vote.

It’s really no surprise their views were diverse because so were suffragists. The heroes of Indiana’s suffrage movement were immigrants, African Americans, and union members. They were rich women, poor women, working women – Republicans, Democrats, Progressives, Prohibitionists, and Socialists. They were Quakers, Jews, Protestants, and Catholics. Indiana’s movement included everyone who believed that women who paid taxes, contributed to their communities, and aided in war efforts when called – women who had proved their worth as citizens time and again – deserved a say in who represented their interests.

After years of stagnation, and with a richly diverse pool of potential supporters, Indianapolis firebrands Grace Julian Clarke and Dr. Amelia Keller put a defibrillator on the weakly-beating heart of Indiana’s suffrage movement in 1911. After lobbyists failed to convince the legislature to pass partial or municipal suffrage bills, the two women recognized the need to overcome apathy and seriously mobilize, forming the Indiana Woman’s Franchise League (WFL). At the same time, Indiana’s Equal Suffrage Association (ESA) ramped up efforts to gain support for women’s enfranchisement. While the groups shared the same underlying goals,  the Equal Suffrage Association embraced different tactics and audiences. Unlike the WFL, it welcomed men. It also worked more closely with labor unions and African American women, especially early in its history. Within the reinvigorated movement emerged new leaders from both groups, who embraced savvy political and promotional tactics. Suffragists, long familiar with statehouse chambers, increasingly spread their message to public squares, street corners and even the skies.

Long maligned as being militant or overbearing, the suffragists decided to generate public interest with a variety of innovative approaches throughout 1912. Among these, there were a few stand outs. The spring brought a “Funfest,” which featured peanuts, a fortune teller, and a satirical “opray,” which had even anti-suffragists laughing against their will. More importantly, it provided an influx of much-needed funding. In June, suffragists led by Grace Julian Clarke, undertook an automobile tour of Hamilton County, distributing flyers and spreading information about suffrage with fantastic results. Perhaps most innovative of all, suffragists took to the skies in May and June, flying over events in hot air balloons showering spectators with “votes for women” buttons and circulars reading,

Ellis reading circular: Women of Indiana . . . come and show that you are no longer satisfied to be ignored and that you insist in having a voice in this government.

As these tactics helped the movement grow, Hoosier reformers recognized the need to be more representative as many of Indiana’s suffragists were white and financially well-off. The Equal Suffrage Association sought new partners in the historic fight for equal rights, with association president Dr. Hannah Graham speaking to working women around the city about how the vote could help the labor cause.  The diversity of the ESA was even more obvious at a meeting held in Indianapolis in the summer of 1912. There, members of over a dozen unions, representatives of Black organizations, members of various political parties, and Indianapolis Mayor Lew Shank converged to hear speeches and debate about suffrage. The argument made by African American civil rights leader Freeman Ransom, that without the ballot women were forced to pay taxes without representation, was one of the most applauded speeches of the day.

But the ESA wasn’t alone in diversifying their membership. The Woman’s Franchise League also made laboring classes a priority at its 1913 state convention. At the convention, there was the following reading of Luluabelle Kern’s “Factory Meetings and the Working Woman,” :

Ellis reading Kern: The answer is that the working woman must study the Constitution of the United States and see just where she stands. Working women are in the majority and we must get them interested in suffrage. We cannot gain the ballot without them.

Later that year, WFL member Harriet Noble spoke before attendees of the Central Labor Union’s meeting in Indianapolis. There, she implored working women to support the movement, saying that it was them who would benefit the most from the vote if it were secured.

Along with members of organized labor, suffrage groups also sought to work with those members of Indiana’s African American community who supported the cause.  With these relationships forged, Dr. Graham, along with Black leaders like Freeman Ransom, helped found Indianapolis’s African American branch of the ESA, No. 7, in 1912. None other than revered Black entrepreneur, Madame C.J. Walker, hosted the branch’s first meeting at her home, where public school teacher Carrie Barnes was elected president. Of the branch’s work, Barnes proclaimed

Ellis reading Barnes: We all feel that colored women have need for the ballot that white women have, and a great many needs that they have not.

Beckley: Black suffragists hosted debates at the Senate Avenue YMCA and local African American churches and worked with white ESA branches and trade unions to forward women’s right to vote. While historians are still working to discover more about Black suffragists and their role in the movement, it’s clear that their work led to greater citizenship for women. The unlikely collaboration of Indiana’s privileged white women, laboring classes, and African American community—one which was uncommon in other Midwestern states—would help lead to the ratification of women’s suffrage.

These coalitions were needed more than ever when in 1913 Governor Thomas Marshall proposed a new, increasingly restrictive state constitution that would further cement women’s disenfranchisement.

Suffragists needed to convince the General Assembly to create equal suffrage legislation before it was too late. Despite the shared goals of the ESA and the WFL, the two groups took opposing positions during a January discussion before a legislative committee weighing a partial suffrage bill. The debate at this commission meeting was simple: should suffragists support this limited suffrage bill in hopes it would lead to more rights in the future or should they hold out for full suffrage? The ESA supported the former solution, while the WFL insisted on the latter.

This division grew fierce. ESA leader Dr. Hannah Graham was an outspoken proponent of full suffrage, but put her ideological stance aside. She felt like Hoosier women couldn’t miss the opportunity that this bill afforded. According to the Indianapolis Star, ESA members voted to support the partial suffrage bill because “such franchise is as much as can be expected at this time.” Simply put, a little suffrage was better than none and may help in winning full suffrage down the road.

WFL leaders vehemently disagreed. Digne Miller noted first that the bill would only grant this partial suffrage to women in Indianapolis and Terre Haute – more a fractional suffrage bill than a partial one. Dr. Amelia Keller expressed her fear that the bill could actually hurt the larger movement. Before the legislative committee, Dr. Keller argued:

Ellis reading Keller: If that bill goes through it will be immediately sent into the courts on protest of being unconstitutional and then when the vote for full suffrage really comes we will receive our answer, ‘O that question is now in court. Wait until that is settled and we’ll see about it then.’

Beckley: Even members of the same organization voiced their disagreement during the meeting. Prominent WFL member Belle Tutewiler broke with her WFL colleagues to support the bill. Her argument in favor of partial suffrage was to use this limited franchise to pry open the door of full suffrage. Her point may have been overshadowed by her fiery language. She called the league’s opposition “childish” and stated:

Ellis readiness Tuttewiler: It is mere child’s play to say that if we can not get all, we will take nothing. I think it would be better to take school suffrage now and use that as an entering wedge for full suffrage later.

Beckley: As the debate continued, the women’s language grew more contentious. In the midst of the discussion, Elizabeth Stanley of Liberty threw open a suitcase “scattering yards and yards of cards bearing a petition for full suffrage” and “ridiculed the idea of using school suffrage as a wedge.”

The women exchanged more heated words before the ineffective meeting was adjourned and the partial suffrage bill abandoned.

Public clashes such as these weren’t great press, and the WFL and ESA knew it. The organizations, both experienced in publicity, realized they needed to present a united front before the General Assembly. After all, both groups supported a proposed amendment to the constitution that would remove the word “male” as criteria to vote.  The WFL and ESA would march to the Indiana statehouse on March 3, 1913, the same day 5,000 suffragists paraded through the nation’s capital. Five hundred Hoosier suffragists from across the state walked into the statehouse that Monday afternoon.  As historian Jill Weiss Simins points out, this was not a celebratory parade, nor was it a raucous demonstration.  It was a protest. The suffrage bills being considered by the General Assembly were unlikely to pass and the Senate had already rejected at least one of the pending propositions earlier in the day. The suffragists were there not because they thought any “immediate good” would come from the day’s session. Rather, hundreds of women marched into their capitol that day to make their collective power felt.

In fact, even in the unlikely event that one of the measures were to pass on that day, it had to be approved again at the next session in 1915, and then voted on in a statewide referendum in 1916 at the earliest. Hoosier suffragists had lost this battle before, celebrating the passage of suffrage bills at one session, just to be disappointed at the next. The women marching in the Indiana statehouse that day would have, if anything, been cautiously hopeful, rather than celebratory if the bill passed, because they knew passage of a bill didn’t always lead to a change in law. Their spirit would have been somber and determined.

The women were there to “work on the legislature,” to show them that suffrage was not a fringe movement, that a large number of Hoosier women demanded the vote. Decked in yellow “Votes for Women” lapel ribbons, the women walked through the statehouse, stopping to pin ribbons on a few willing lawmakers, like Governor Samuel Ralston. Most Indiana lawmakers didn’t take a ribbon, and pages mocked the women’s efforts.

Because their march was a protest, they chose to silently file first into the House and then to the Senate. Lawmakers would have to face legions of the state’s most upstanding Hoosiers before voting to continue to deny them their right as citizens. As predicted, the suffragists didn’t achieve their legislative aims, but they didaccomplish their goal in marching: they presented a united front. Even in the face of this success, suffragists were mocked as ignorant women with the Indianapolis News writing,

Clark reading from Newspaper: Although hundreds of suffragists were jammed in the senate when Senator Grube introduced to the state Constitution to allow women suffrage, no one of them seemed to realize what ‘was doing.’ No demonstrations of any sort took place.

Beckley: This claim that the women didn’t realize what was happening is preposterous. Many of these women had dedicated their life to the cause – does it seem likely that they would have been ignorant of any upcoming legislation that would lead to victory? Of course not. What’s more, the leaders of the WFL and ESA had been working with members of the General Assembly on the legislation in question. But this protest wasn’t about legislation. It was about perseverance. And they would need that perseverance. Hoosier suffragists had a long road ahead of them.

If anything, this legislative defeat galvanized the suffragists and weeks after the march, Dr. Keller stated:

Ellis reading Keller: Against this new spirit of women nothing can stand. The wave of their determination cannot be stayed by any legislature bidding it make no further progress. It will come on and on, sweeping all obstacles which attempt to bar its path.

Beckley: Once the women made their presence known in the statehouse, they were determined to make it felt constantly. In 1914, Grace Julian Clarke formed a lobbying group, the Legislative Council of Indiana Women. The council held lawmakers’ feet to the fire regarding women’s rights bills and represented 50,000 Hoosier women from various and diverse groups. Securing an office in the statehouse, suffragists worked alongside AP statehouse reporters.

Suffragists also worked to keep the issue in front of the public. Between Illinois Street and Monument Circle a bugle sounded in the spring of 1914, summoning 300 men and women. They listened, some on foot and others in cars, as Luella McWhirter read the Woman’s Declaration of Independence and the Anthony Amendment (what would become the 19th Amendment). Suffragists like Clarke used the power of the press to inform the public about women’s right to vote. Others continued to court the laboring classes, slipping pro-suffrage literature into the hands of reform-minded celebrants at Fountain Square’s May Day festivities.In 1915, Anna Dunn Noland secured the endorsement of 1,600 miners at a national convention in Indianapolis. Support for the cause seemed to be increasing daily.

In working for the right  vote, women in Indiana and across the nation found their civic and political voice as never before. Decades of winning and then losing the right to vote didn’t quell their determination. It gave them a chance to hone their organizational skills, articulate the many rationales for women’s enfranchisement, and learn how to weather criticism. In the reinvigorated movement of the early 20th century empowered Hoosier suffragists enrolled in public speaking courses and hosted citizenship classes in their homes. Surely, as the audacious women pressed forward, the fear that the ballot would always be just out of reach lingered. But on the horizon was an event that would change the course of history, and the fortunes of suffragists: World War I.

In the next episode, we’ll discuss how Hoosier women clenched the long-awaited vote, in part, by leveraging war relief work.

Once again, I’m Lindsey Beckley and this has been Talking Hoosier History. Talking Hoosier History is produced by the Indiana Historical Bureau, a division of the Indiana State Library. I’d like to thank Lt. Governor Suzanne Crouch and the director of the Propylaeum Liz Ellis for lending their voices to the show. This episode was written by Nicole Politika and Jill Weiss Simins. Sound engineering by Justin Clark and production by Jill Weiss Simins. We’ll be back in two weeks with another installment of Giving Voice. Until then, find us on Faceook and twitter as the Indiana Historical Bureau and remember to like, rate, and review Talking Hoosier History wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening.

Show Notes for Indiana Women’s Suffrage: The New Day Comes Slowly

Music:

If you’re interested in the story of Indiana’s Suffrage Movement, we highly suggest reading Dr. Anita Morgan’s book, We Must Be Fearless.

Read more about the suffrage movement in Indiana with the Indiana History Blog.

Newspapers

Indianapolis News, June 10, 1913, 5.

Indianapolis News, May 2, 1913, 23.

Indianapolis Star, May 2, 1914, 5.

Blog Posts

Jill Weiss Simins, “A Silent Roar: Indiana Suffragists’ 1913 March to the Statehouse,” Indiana History Blog.

Jill Weiss Simins, ”Suffrage Up in the Air:” The Equal Suffrage Association’s 1912 Publicity Campaign,” Indiana History Blog.

Books

Anita Morgan, We Must Be Fearless”: The Woman Suffrage Movement in Indiana, IHS Press, Indianapolis, Indiana, 2020.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan Brownell Anthony, and Matilda Joslyn Gage, History of Woman Suffrage, Volume 6, Susan B. Anthony, 1922.

THH Episode 34: Giving Voice: Kera Lovell

Transcript of Giving Voice: Kera Lovell

Beckley: I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Giving Voice. For this installment of Giving Voice, I’m joined by Kera Lovell, professor of American History at the University of Utah Asia Campus and the author of a forthcoming book about people’s parks. If you haven’t listened to our most recent episode discussing the Black Market Firebombing and the people’s park erected in its place, I recommend you go do so now, as it gives you the context needed to better understand our conversation.

And now, Giving Voice.

[Talking Hoosier History Theme Song]

Beckley: I am here today with Kera Lovell, who is at the University of Utah Asia Campus. She’s a professor of American History there, and she’s currently working on a book about people’s parks. Thank you so much for being here today, Kera.

Lovell: Absolutely, thank you for having me.

Beckley: So, when I was doing my primary research into the Black Market and the people’s park that kind of came out of the Black Market tragedy, I was trying to look into people’s parks a little bit more and came across your work and as soon as I saw it, I knew we needed to have you on the show, so I really appreciate you making the time here in this kind of crazy time of ours to come on the show and kind of chat a little bit.

Lovell: Absolutely, I would love to spend this crazy moment with you that we are having in the world. So absolutely, whatever questions you have.

Beckley: Well, I think that we should probably start at the beginning. Could you give us a little bit of a background lesson about the origins of people’s parks and where the movement kind of got its founding?

Lovell: Yes, absolutely. I think that’s a great question because they’re not the same thing. So, people’s parks, the reason that we know that phrase, and honestly, probably 99% of your listeners are confused about what that even means. People’s parks is a phrase – a “people’s park” is a phrase that we use in the 1960s and, I say “we” meaning “me,” so it’s a phrase that I use to describe a type of protest in the late ‘60s and ‘70s, honestly some examples came through the ‘80s, in which activists took over vacant lots and converted them into parks. And they called them people’s parks and that’s why I call them people’s parks.

So, the first famous one is in Berkeley in 1969; however, that’s actually not the first one. And so my research covers not only that there were people’s parks, because my research is much more interested in what they were saying through protest, about the visual,  the material, the performative culture, like how is the act of protest a form of communication, but also how can we embed these protests in their particular cities and contexts.

So, if you actually go to the first one that we know of, the first one that I know of is in San Francisco in 1968, and it’s actually this environmental action group called Ecological Action in 1968. They are planning a movement to protest a landlord that’s buying up housing, and so what they want to do is, in response, is protest it at city council meetings and whatnot. Well, one member of the group is actually killed in this really sad car accident, and so instead, in this act of mourning, in protest of this landlord that’s buying up land, they take over a vacant lot and they turn it into a park. And they do this, performatively, visually, materially – in which they plant trees, they make art, they have these performances in the park. And that’s the first one that we know of that’s not just a garden or a gathering spot, but it’s actually a performance protest piece. And it doesn’t last that long – it’s only a few weeks, but that one, which is super interesting, is at the same spot in which more than a year later is the most famous one, which is Berkeley’s People’s Park. Essentially, we had spectators at that one that was like, “Oh, wow, that’s interesting. I see what they’re doing.” And more than a year later, students at the University of California Berkeley do the same thing in which they’re protesting how landlords are buying up affordable housing from students, and so they’re going to take over this vacant lot and turn it into a park. The only difference is that with the first one, it’s very quiet, and so they just bulldoze over the spot. With the second one, they fence it up and bring in the National Guard, and it’s this terrible standoff in which the National Guard troops kill bystanders, and it’s just this horrible public relations campaign that makes it into national news that then sparks this national movement of students and other people that are taking over vacant lots and turning them into parks. So that’s what I study, not only that they did it and where they did it, but how they did it and what it meant to them in this moment of time.

Beckley: Wow, that’s really interesting. I had never dug deep enough, I guess, to find the actual roots of it. I thought that it started at Berkeley. I guess that was kind of where the national movement started, would you say that’s right?

Lovell: For sure, for sure. Absolutely. And I think that’s the difference. Because with the Berkeley’s People’s Park, and again I say Berkeley’s People’s Park, but there’s more than a dozen of them actually in Berkeley, because they’re so good at their campaign that even around the city, there’s many different people’s parks that are started at this time. But I would say that that park is so successful in its campaign, not necessarily successful in its long term campaign, we can actually see other spaces, and I’m happy to talk about them, in which they’re more successful in being culturally accepted or socially accepted, but Berkeley’s People’s Park that’s right next to the university is the most famous because it’s able to utilize the underground press in campaigning for the idea that it’s unjust, what has happened to them, and really capitalize on tens of thousands of readers in a couple of days’ time span and sort of catalyze them into a protest movement against this.

Beckley: So, when you talk about other parks being more successful in being socially accepted, I know that some parks, like Bloomington’s Peoples Park, was later legally sanctioned – do you see a correlation between a park being socially accepted, or, I guess, the movement behind a park being social accepted, and a later legal sanction?

Lovell: I think that’s a great question. So, yes and no, and I think Bloomington’s a great example because, while it becomes legal, it doesn’t become socially accepted. So, in a lot of these different cases, what you find is that because the historical context changes from protest movements in the ‘60s and ‘70s to the demand for space by the late ‘80s and ‘90s, which, if I’m going to refer you to a historian, there’s a great cultural geographer by the name of Don Mitchell, and he writes a really interesting book about the right to space and about how by the late ‘80s and ‘90s, there’s a push for the homeless, because there is an increasingly white homeless population, and their demand for public space, and how a lot of these different spaces like Berkeley’s People’s Park become an issue over free speech and right to public space become an issue of homelessness and how we’re not actually addressing the needs of that. So, I say that all to mean that most of these spaces become socially, culturally tainted of, like, the people that occupy those spaces are no longer the people that are interested in free speech and politics, but are interested in homeless encampments. And I don’t necessarily have a problem with it – I’m not trying to put my speech one way or the other, I’m just saying that the context has changed from the ‘70s to the ‘80s to the ‘90s, in which we’re much more interested in are people poor, and do they have a right to that space, rather than are they students and more political and in the ‘70s, they were much more interested in are you political, should you be in public space, whereas not it’s are you homeless and should you be in public space.

But one positive example that I give, which is, I think, if we’re looking at ranking these parks, the best example of a people’s park I would argue, is Chicano Park in San Diego. And that begins as an illegal park, and that is because it is park – ok, so let me back it up. So, actually, it’s this group of Mexican Americans in San Diego in Barrio Logan, so what they are campaigning the city council for is a park, for years. And so what happens is that they’re campaigning for a park, campaigning for a park, and they never get it. And so what happens is the area where they had been told was going to be their park, actually one day, the state brings in bulldozers to build police headquarters there by the highway. And so they flip out, and they are, justly, very angry at this, and it actually coalesces with the first Earth Day, April 22, 1970, in which they take over the lot that they’re actually – the state has decided they’re going to convert into police headquarters and they’re like, “No, no, no, no, no, no. We’re going to make this into a park.” So they take over the bulldozers. They start planting their own things. They start having food. Like, they literally take it over and they start an encampment and they’re like, “We deserve a park for our community, because we’re being run out of town.” And so, what’s important is that, because it happens in 1970, about a year later, after Berkeley’s People’s Park, plus they’re interested in legalizing it in a way that they want it institutionalized. They want a park for their community. So they stick with it for the long haul in a way that I don’t know if other spots in other cities are interested in. So, I say that in meaning that what happens is that in San Diego, they get it legalized. They get it institutionalized as that takeover as a park. And what’s really cool is that, not only is it successful in the takeover, but that the people who created the park were much more interested in, “how do we evolve the park? And how do we push it? And how do we create it as part of, embedded in the community?” Which is more than a political symbol of a takeover of a space. Like, Chicano Park, which you can visit today, is involved in local parades. It’s involved in local festivities. It’s involved in local celebrations of Mexican American culture, in a way that it’s institutionalized in not only a protest over, “We want to claim space,” but it’s also an important part of the local culture of San Diego in a way that I don’t see in a lot of other people’s parks otherwise.

Beckley: Do you think that the People’s Park Movement – I know that you had mentioned, the park right before Berkeley’s park, sorry I’m blanking on the name, but that that one was the first that wasn’t just a garden. Now, I know today, or at least a few years ago, guerilla gardening was kind of a big thing. Do you see a influence from the People’s Park Movement in the guerilla gardener movement?

Lovell: That is an excellent question, and I am – the only reason, I am both excited and hesitant to answer, but only because I‘m excited in that you made a connection, but also hesitant in that I also don’t know the exact origin. For example, there are historians in African American history, for example, that have been able to pinpoint guerilla gardening way before Berkeley’s People’s Park.

Beckley: Wow.

Lovell:  Yea, and so there’s excellent research on, say, if you have poor people that move to a new neighborhood, they create gardens. If you look at immigrants who move to a new neighborhood, they create gardens. And those are inherently guerilla gardens in they’re not on property that they own. So, does Berkeley’s People’s Park make it more fashionable with young college students? I would say yes, because they have a greater handle on popular culture and especially the underground press to push it to become popular. And to be popular meaning that they are trying to make it a political statement. Is guerilla gardening a political statement before Berkeley’s People’s Park? I don’t know if it is. Again, there are historians that will argue that guerilla gardening, for example, during World War I or World War II is a political statement in arguing that it is very much important as a part of a resistance to an “other” identity beyond our country. However, I can’t be a good person to say that, but I’m so glad that you said that, and I think that if you think it’s because, since the late 1960s and ‘70s, Berkeley’s People’s Park has been associated with this leftist political identity of we should take over public space and make it into gardens. However, people have been doing that since there has been land to grow food on.

Beckley: So, I’ve just – my mind’s kind of working now, and I’m thinking of another, I don’t know if I would classify it as a movement, but something that’s happening in, I believe San Francisco, people are grafting fruit tree limbs onto decorative trees in the middle of medians and things like that in order to – ‘cuz those limbs will then produce fruit still – they’re doing that in the hopes of providing a free source of food for the homeless population – do you, especially it being in California, I just, I can’t get past that there might be a connection there but then it just might be that it seems like a good idea and I’m just making connections where there aren’t any.

Lovell: No, I think you’re right on track. I think that the only difference is that in my research, what I can see, is that when this movement starts, and I say movement meaning that there is a huge source of these parks that start in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, they don’t use the word homeless. So, they use the word street people. They use the word, like, “It’s parks for the people.” And so, they’re interested in, like, “it’s free, because it’s for the people.” So it’s really not until we go to the late ‘70s, early ‘80s, in which we begin to use the word homeless that it begins, that people start to talk about, like, “we need a space for the homeless.” And it’s not because we don’t have people living on the streets beforehand, it’s just, it’s not necessarily part of their identity as, like, a social ill. And again, that’s even problematic to say because if you looked at Reagan, he would definitely say that street people in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s was a social problem and an identity, but they themselves wouldn’t see it. And so, to me, the answer to that question is best explored in the history of Berkeley’s People’s Park, because there’s actually so many archival sources on this one park, because you can go through and see its design over the years and how through the early ‘80s, in which they’re actually thinking about homelessness, and they’re actually thinking about access to people with disabilities, and we have new activist groups that are trying to redesign the park to make it more accessible and to make it more accessible not only for people in wheelchairs but for people that are homeless. And how, it’s never easy, like, they’re constantly struggling with, “how do we design it? And how will people accept it?” And I think it reveals more about how people are more increasingly trying to situate themselves within the context and be better, and yet they’re struggling with the issues that are going on within society.

Beckley: I’m wondering, what do you see as some of the direct legacies of the movement that are still seen in society today?

Lovell: Ohh, that is an excellent question. I think that, if we were fresh on the Occupy Wall Street movement, it would be really easy, because that was such an easy time to be able to say that people are interested in the relationship between space and power. And understanding the idea that if you take over a space in public and you claim it as your own illegally, it is a form of power, and how do people negotiate that? And so, I think that that parallel to what we see in the late ‘60s and ‘70s in which people are much more interested in the performative, symbolic act of, we’re not necessarily going to grow a field and it last for 20 years, but, like, we are going to take this over and see how people react and see how we can bring communities together. So I think that’s one thing that I think people find – it’s confusing for people nowadays that want to have their backyard and find it difficult, the idea that someone would go to a vacant lot and take it over as a symbol of protest – it’s very confusing, and I totally understand that. So I think that, if you take that away and we’re not just looking at symbolism and protest, one thing that I think would be very important is that Berkeley’s People’s Park is this really famous symbol at the very beginning of the environmental movement, so we have a lot of other environmental issues that are going on in America, and yet the human factor of Berkeley’s People’s Park, the fact that, if we’re just looking at symbolism at the end of the day, it’s a lot of people that are planting flowers in this vacant lot and they are shot for that. And for understanding of very different ways. But the fact that people are shot for gardening, it catalyzes this national – even international – movement in which people are interested in planting flowers and are interested in bettering the environment. And we actually see for many years after that in different environmental actions in which they refer to Berkeley’s People’s Park as this moment in which we can see people just trying to care for public space. And so, I think that’s very important that at the time, it was a catalyst for we should take care of the environment and care about it and care about the people that are tending to the environment. And I think that it’s only later because of public relations that we’ve kind of gotten confused on that issue, but at the time that was the number one thing that comes about was that we have environmental action campaigns in Berkeley, nationally, and in other cities that are really important.*

Beckley: I love speaking with you because every time you kind of bring up a new facet of the People’s Parks Movement, I kind of see it reflected in Bloomington’s Peoples Park as small scale as it was. I found a lot of newspaper clippings talking about people experiencing homelessness being there and then being kicked out of there and then camping on sidewalks and being allowed back there with increased police presence. And just everything you say kind of brings me back to Bloomington’s Peoples Park, which is something I love about history -just all of the little connections between such a big national and international movement and something that happened here in Bloomington, Indiana.

Lovell: It’s true! And I didn’t even mention racism, which is such a critical component of Bloomington’s Peoples Park, and which often doesn’t get talked about with the early people’s parks in the Bay Area, but it absolutely was like the first people’s park in San Francisco, which is about ecological, created by ecological action, but what they do is they’re very much interested in how can we create these parks and neighborhoods in which we can bring white people and Black people together? And even with Berkeley’s People’s Park, in which it becomes national news, they’re very much interested in how can we create a space in which we can get the Black Panthers involved? Or we can get anti-racist activists involved. And they’re very interested in how we can use these parks as coalitional issues, which I think is so beautiful about the Bloomington’s Peoples Park, in which it is, even though symbolic, a beautiful moment of coalition for people in that community.

Beckley: Well, I think that is a beautiful place for us to end today. Thank you so much for being on the show. I think that this is one of our best conversations to date, and I cannot wait for people to hear it.

Lovell: Yay! I’m so glad. Thank you so much, Lindsey.

Beckley: Thank you.

[Talking Hoosier History Theme Music]

Beckley: Once again, I want to thank Dr. Lovell for taking the time to talk with me for this episode. We’ll be back soon with another new episode, but in the meantime, follow the Indiana Historical Bureau on Facebook and Twitter for daily doses of Indiana History tidbits. Subscribe, rate, and review Talking Hoosier History wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening!

*Note: This Giving Voice episode was recorded in May 2020, before the widespread Civil Rights protests began in reaction to the killing of George Floyd and other instances of police brutality across the nation. During the recent protests, some interesting parallels with the People’s Parks Movement have emerged, the most striking of which is Seattle’s Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone. The Autonomous Zone, alternately called the Capitol Hill Occupied Protest (CHOP), is a section of Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood which has been occupied by protesters and labeled as a “no-police zone.” It is meant to be a place to live out the ideals behind the Black Lives Matter movement, an experiment in decreased policing and communal living. The parallels between CHOP and the People’s Park Movement are very clear – a group of people have illegally taken over public spaces visually, materially, and performatively in order to demand action. As of June 23, 2020 the CHOP is still active, although Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan has announced that the city will be working with Black community organizers to clear the encampment after three shootings occurred in the area.

Show Notes for Giving Voice: Kera Lovell

Learn more about Dr. Lovell and her work here.

Contact Dr. Lovell at keralovell@gmail.com.

Learn more about the history of people’s parks here.

 

THH Episode 33: The Black Market Firebombing

Transcription for The Black Market Firebombing

Beckley: Even the largest college towns fall quiet during winter break. Students return home. Faculty too. The hustle and bustle of the end-of-semester exams relaxes into the stillness of life put on pause. And the day after Christmas is especially hushed, with families recovering from large meals or helping children assemble their new toys. At least, that’s how it should be. On December 26, 1968, the quiet was ripped away from one Midwestern college town. First, the sound of breaking glass. Then, the roar of a fire, followed by sirens. When the smoke had cleared, it was apparent that this was no accident, but rather a targeted attack.

On this episode of Talking Hoosier History, we’ll explore the events leading up to the firebombing of the Black Market on December 26, 1968 in Bloomington, Indiana, and the reverberations of that attack that have lasted for decades.

I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Talking Hoosier History.

In the very literal sense of the word, 1968 was an extraordinary year. Even situated as it was within a decade characterized by social and political upheaval, 1968 was unique in the sheer number of transformative events. At the end of January, North Vietnam launched the Tet Offensive against U.S. and South Vietnamese troops. News coverage of the highly coordinated attacks shifted American views on the war dramatically and led many young people to protest ongoing U.S. involvement in the area.

In April, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, leading thousands to protest in the streets. In May, 3,000 impoverished people from across the nation arrived in Washington, D.C. and constructed a shantytown called “Resurrection City,” where they lived for 6 weeks in the Poor People’s Campaign. In September, feminists and civil rights advocates protested the Miss America contest, alleging that both sexism and racism were inherent in the structure of the pageant.

Interspersed within these events were other historic moments: the violence of the 1968 Democratic National Convention, the controversial stripping of two Olympic medals from winners who rose their fists in protest against the treatment of Black Americans, the tragic assassination of Robert Kennedy . . . and the list just keeps going.

While the majority of these events occurred on the East and West Coasts of the United States, it would be a mistake to think that the Midwest was immune to the revolutionary spirit sweeping the nation. In fact, many of the movements seen at the national level also played out within the confines of the Indiana University campus in Bloomington.

The local chapter of the Students for a Democratic Society, or SDS, protested various aspects of the Vietnam War, eventually sending a list of demands to the acting university president, Herman B Wells, which declared,

Voice actor: “We condemn all ties which link IU to the military apparatus: recruiting in our recreational facilities, learning how to kill in our classrooms, performing military research in our laboratories.”

Beckley: Following student objections about racist judging standards, the university cancelled the IU Homecoming Queen pageant permanently. And African American students demanded more representation in all aspects of campus life, staging a sit-in at the annual bicycle race, the Little 500. That sit-in led directly to the removal of discriminatory covenants in the by-laws of Indiana University fraternities.

While this wave of revolutionary fervor was cresting both nationally and on IU’s campus, another was close behind – the “third wave” of the infamous hate group, the Ku Klux Klan. During the Klan’s second wave in the 1920s, the Indiana Klan wielded incredible political power, boasting 250,000 members. Their influence peaked in 1924, and the organization was largely dismantled by the end of the decade.

This new Klan, rising in response to the Civil Rights Movement, was much smaller, but much more violent. Approximately 40,000 members belonged to the Klan nationally in the 1950s and 60s. The relatively diverse, liberal campus of Indiana University and the surrounding city of Bloomington became a target for the local Klan’s hate.

In the spring of 1968, Klan members from nearby Morgan County attempted to establish a chapter of the terrorist organization in Monroe County. A membership drive, which was to consist of a gathering on the Bloomington courthouse square followed by a march through the business district, was scheduled for March 30, 1968. But before events could get underway, Monroe County Prosecutor Thomas Berry requested and was granted an order blocking the event, citing the possibility of violence.

This was neither the first nor the last appearance of the Klan in Bloomington. The Indiana Daily Student on November 7, 1922 described the supposed first appearance of the Klan in the city:

Voice Actor: “Marching with slow and solemn tread, 152 men paraded Bloomington streets, garbed in mysterious robes of white, with tall hoods masking their identity, and carrying aloft the flaming cross of the Klan, while hundreds of townspeople and students stood and witnessed [as] the pages of fiction and movie scenarios unfolded before their eyes.”

Beckley: Although county officials blocked a similar scene to that just described from playing out in 1968, the Klan still made its presence known in the city. During a Bloomington Human Relations Commission meeting on September 30, 1968, African American commission chairman Ernest Butler showed his fellow commissioners and others present at the meeting a card which had been left on his door. The card read, “The Ku Klux Klan is watching you.” Butler claimed to have received as many as ten such cards, as well as several threatening phone calls.

In the face of threats such as these, Black Indiana University students continued to come together to demand more representation and equal treatment on campus. An organization founded in the spring of 1967, the Afro-Afro-American Student’s Association, or AAASA, served as an organizing force within the Black community on campus. The AAASA had four separate areas of interest: artistic, educational, political, and social.  A Daily Student article lays out the aims of the organization, which were threefold:

Voice actor: “The first would be the general improvement of communications between black students. Out of communications, comes a greater sense of unity, the second aim of AAASA. The third aim of AAASA is to promote greater black student participation in campus affairs.”

Beckley: Through these aims, the organization hoped

Voice actor: “to cooperate with individuals and organizations dedicated to the eradication of those impediments to human progress such as racism and segregation.”

Beckley: It was in pursuit of this goal that the AAASA organized protests, such as that at the Little 500 against the segregation of fraternities. At the forefront of many of these protests was AAASA co-founder and sociology graduate student Clarence “Rollo” Turner.

In the fall of 1968, Turner shifted his attention towards a new project, one that had many of the same goals as the AAASA – The Black Market. Financed entirely by Black faculty and staff, the Black Market was a shop specializing in products made by African and African American artists. According to an article in IU’s student newspaper, the Indiana Daily Student, this included

Voice actor: “free-flowing African garb, Black literature and records, African and Afro-American fabrics, dangling earrings, and African artifacts.”

Beckley: As a leader in the African American community at Indiana University, Turner served as the shop’s manager and its public face. He and his backers had two main objectives when opening the shop, both of which aligned with AAASA’s. First, it was to act as a cultural center for Black students at the university, who had limited social opportunities in the predominantly white city. Second, he aimed to eliminate “misconceptions about black people” by exposing IU students and Bloomington locals to Black culture.

After its late-September opening, it seemed as though the shop would be a success. Joking that the Dashikis sold in the Black Market would soon supplant the more mainstream fashion of the day, the Daily Student said,

Voice actor: “suits and ties may eventually join the ranks of white socks and baggy slacks if the immediate success of The Black Market is a sign of things to come.”

Beckley: However, at the same time that the shop was proving to be a popular enterprise with IU students, factions within Bloomington were pushing back against its very existence. Larry Canada, the owner of the building in which the store was located, reported receiving threatening phone calls for renting the space out to Turner and his backers. These threats became reality when, on December 26, 1968 a Molotov cocktail was thrown through the front window of the store.

The resulting fire destroyed the entire stock of the Black Market and caused structural damage to adjacent businesses. To those most closely associated with the shop, the motive for the attack seemed obvious, especially considering the heightened presence of the Ku Klux Klan in the city. In the following comment from the alternative student newspaper The Spectator, we have redacted one offensive word. The paper commented:

Voice actor: “It was not very difficult, of course, to determine a ‘motive’ for the bombing. Since the construction of the Black Market in September, black students involved have been harassed periodically by abusive white ‘customers,’ . . . Larry Canada, owner of the building, had received telephoned bomb threats because he allowed the ‘n––rs’ to use the space for the store.”

Beckley: Two weeks later, 200 students attended a rally on the sidewalk outside of the burnt remains of the Black Market. Amidst calls for action from university and city officials and appeals to Black students to make a stand in the face of violence, Rollo Turner said, “the only reason this store was bombed was because it was a black store.” Behind the rally, hung across the splintered door of the shop, was a hand lettered sign that read, “A COWARD DID THIS.”

Eight months would pass before those students learned the identity of the man responsible for the attack. In the intervening time, IU students and faculty came together to raise enough money to repay the financial backers of the shop, as the shop’s inventory was uninsured. Rollo Turner also made the decision not to re-open the store – all of the funds raised had gone to pay back investors, leaving none for re-investment in new stock. Additionally, the extensive damage to the structure necessitated its total demolition, meaning a new space would need to be secured, and it may have proven difficult to find a landlord willing to risk their property if a repeat attack was carried out. Sadly, the bomber got what they wanted, but it wasn’t without a price.

­­­­Details about the search for the perpetrator are limited. An ad-hoc group formed by representatives from the community, university, and local civil rights organizations offered an award for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the guilty parties. The Spectator alluded to a person of interest in their coverage of the attack, saying:

Voice actor: “Acting on reports of witnesses, police are searching for a white male with dark hair, about 5’8”, 160 lbs., wearing a light gray finger-length topcoat at the time of the fire.”

Beckley: Whether or not either the reward offered or the description of a person of interest played any part in the search for the perpetrator, or if they were identified in some other way, on August 6, 1969 the Monroe County Circuit Court issued arrest warrants for two men in relation to the crime.

One of those men, Carlisle Briscoe, Jr., pleaded guilty to the second-degree arson charges while also implicating an accomplice, Jackie Dale Kinser, who he accused of driving the get-away vehicle. Eventually, the charges against Kinser would be dropped, just before he pled guilty to three unrelated crimes. While it’s unclear if the charges being dropped was directly related to Kinser’s guilty pleas, the timing of the two does seem to suggest the possibility.

Both men had strong ties with the local Ku Klux Klan. Kinser was a member who in subsequent years would be arrested multiple times for Klan-related crimes. Briscoe’s Klan membership is slightly less clear. At first, Monroe County Prosecutor Thomas Berry and Sheriff Clifford Thrasher announced that both men were Klan members. An article in the September 19, 1969 issue of the Indianapolis Star, stated that Briscoe himself claimed to be a Klan member. The headline of Briscoe’s obituary in the Vincennes Sun-Commercial proclaimed, “Notorious Klansman Dies in Prison.” As late as 1977, he was arrested while committing crimes alongside Klan members, reportedly while carrying out Klan business.

However, in 1969, the Grand Dragon of the Indiana Ku Klux Klan, William Chaney, denied that Briscoe was a member of the organization. Regardless of Briscoe’s official Klan membership status, he at the very least maintained close ties with the terrorist organization and shared their racist ideology. He was sentenced to one to ten years and was released on April 7, 1973 after serving approximately three and a half years.

The story of the Black Market firebombing could have ended there. The structure had been demolished, the investors had been paid back, and a conviction had been made. However, the revolutionary atmosphere of the Indiana University campus stretched beyond the 1960s, and the space would once again be used as a venue for activism.

­­­In late February 1970, a group of Yippies, or members of the Youth International Party, were looking for ways to bring the community of Bloomington together. One of the ideas that emerged from these discussions was the creation of a people’s park on the vacant lot where the Black Market had recently stood. These new parks, which were spreading across the nation, could trace their roots back to the People’s Park in Berkeley, California. Typically created by activists without the approval of government or other officials, the parks were meant to promote free speech, activism, and community involvement.

We’ll discuss the origins and legacy of the people’s park movement on the next episode of Giving Voice, where I’ll be joined by Kera Lovell, professor of American Studies at the University of Utah’s Asia Campus, and preeminent People’s Park scholar.

In Bloomington, work had started on the new people’s park by May 1970. Anyone who was interested in the enterprise was encouraged to help prepare the land for its future intended use. The Bloomington People’s Park was to be a mix of gathering space, community garden, and a place for “everyone to sing, dance, rap, and generally ‘do his own thing,’” and by the next summer, it was being put to good use, as reported by the Indiana Daily Student:

Voice actor: “About 250 blue jeaned “freaks,” tapered-legged “straights,” the bell bottomed curious and two guys with rolled-up sleeves, greasy hair and tattoos celebrated the 4th in People’s Park Sunday evening.”

Beckley: Over the next five years, various issues threatened to put an end to the park’s existence. The city threatened to shut it down over “public health” concerns. The property owner, Larry Canada, had various plans to develop the property. In the end, though, People’s Park became legally sanctioned after Canada deeded the land to the city in 1976.

Throughout the years, the park has carried on the site’s heritage, hosting anti-Vietnam War demonstrations, protests against the U.S. involvement in El Salvador in the 1980s, music festivals, flea markets, and, more recently, it housed the Occupy Bloomington movement. Today, the park serves as a reminder of the revolutionary ideals that swept through Indiana University’s campus in the 1960s and 1970s.

That reminder is important because the number of hate groups in the United States has nearly doubled since the year 2000, as tracked by the Southern Poverty Law Center. Some of those groups have deep roots. Others have sprung up in response to political and social movements in the country. In 2019, the center tracked 20 hate groups in Indiana alone.

In the 1960s, African Americans finally started gaining the rights they had worked towards for so long (and which had been promised for over 100 years), and we saw more Black Americans than ever standing up to demand those rights. Those demands were often met with violence.

Today, as LGBTQ+ and other groups join the struggle to gain more rights and demand their voices be heard, we see similar reactions. Violent marches in the streets of Charlottesville. Bombs being mailed to prominent politicians. Shootings at mosques, temples, and other places of worship.

Seeing these echoes from history resurface is unsettling, and even disheartening. But if you look past the violence, there is hope there too. Yes, the year 1968 shook America to its core, but it resulted in a more just country. No, not a perfect one. But better. We can come out of this period of violence even stronger. But it won’t just happen. It didn’t just happen in the 1960s – people worked for it. They marched. They protested. They demanded justice. What will we do to make sure we come out a more just country?

Once again, I’m Lindsey Beckley and this has been Talking Hoosier History. Talking Hoosier History is a product of the Indiana Historical Bureau, a division of the Indiana State Library. In the show notes for this episode, found at blog.history.in.gov, you will find a link for teachers and students about dealing with the tough issue of the n-word, which guided our decision to redact that word in today’s episode. You’ll also find a full transcript with helpful links, as well as a list of all sources used in the making of this episode. Talking Hoosier History is written by me, Lindsey Beckley. Sound engineering on this episode was by Justin Clark. Production by Jill Weiss Simins. Join us in two weeks for our next installment of Giving Voice, where we’ll hear from Kera Lovell on the history and legacy of People’s Parks. Until then, catch us on social media as Indiana Historical Bureau and remember to subscribe, rate, and review wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening!

Show Notes for The Black Market Firebombing

Note: Newspapers accessed via Indiana State Library microfilm collection unless otherwise noted. More sources are available in the IHB’s Black Market Firebombing marker file, available upon request.

Newspapers

“County Klan to ‘Walk’ Bloomington,” (Martinsville) Reporter-Times, March 11, 1968, 8.

“University Cannot Rightfully Stop KKK I.U. Forum Speaker – Snyder,” Indiana Daily Student, March 27, 1968, 1.

“Judge Blocks Klan Event in Bloomington,” Rushville Republican, March 28, 1968, 7.

“Hill Issues Order Halting Klan Visit,” Indiana Daily Student, March 28, 1968, 1.

“Black Students to Demonstrate; Will Present Grievances to Star,” Indiana Daily Student, March 30, 1968, 1.

“Klan Card Left at Butler Door,” Indiana Daily Student, October 1, 1968, 2.

“Bringing It All Back Home, The Spectator, 7, no. 4, (October 1968): 3-4.

“Racism: In the Greek Tradition,” The Spectator, 7, no. 9, (November 1968):4.

“Socially Significant Soul Styles Replace Whitey’s Duds for Blacks Who Have ‘Arrived,’” Indiana Daily Student, September 28, 1968, 1.

Jim Helm, “To Offer Reward for Arson Information,” Bloomington Herald Telephone, January 5, 1969, 3.

“’Black Market’ Firebomb Destruction Brings University and City Response,” Indiana Daily Student, January 7, 1969, 1.

“A Coward Did This: The Bombing of the Black Market,” The Spectator, 7, no. 13, (January 1969): 4.

Jeannene Seeger and Karen Carle, “Peace Between Races Dead, Black Leader Tells Students,” Indiana Daily Student, January 11, 1969, 1.

“Klan Members Held for Arson,” Lizton Daily Citizen, August 7, 1969, 1.

“2 Men Charged in Store Fire,” Indianapolis Star, August 7, 1969, 16.

“Local Man Enters Guilty Plea in Fire at ‘Black Market,’” Indiana Daily Student, September 16, 1969, accessed Indiana University Archives Exhibits.

“Funds Established to Offset Loss at Black Market,” Indiana Daily Student, January 14, 1969, 4.

“Black Market Fund Reaches Goal,” Indianapolis Star, January 26, 1969, 19.

“Dunn Meadow Festival,” The Spectator, 10, no. 4 (February 1970):8, accessed Independent Voices.

“People’s Park,” Indiana Daily Student, April 27, 1970, 4.

“People’s Park Needs Human Support,” Indiana Daily Student, May 1, 1970, 1.

“Freedom Fourth,” Indiana Daily Student, July 6, 1971, 1.

“Antiwar Rally at Bloomington Today,” (Columbus) Republic, May 10, 1972, 16.

“Dream to Come True in Musical Park Tour,” Indianapolis News, July 12, 1985, 55.

Books

Indiana University Yearbook Archives, iuyearbook.com.

Thomas Clark, Indiana University Midwestern Pioneer: Volume IV/ Historical Documents Since 1816, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1977, 755-787.

Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage, Revised Edition, New York:  Bantam, 2013.

Mark Kurlansky, The Year that Rocked the World, New York: Random House, 2005.

Documents

“Bench Warrant – Circuit Court,” State of Indiana, Monroe County, Warrant issued for Carlisle Briscoe, Jr., Second Degree Arson, August 6, 1969.

“Bench Warrant – Circuit Court,” State of Indiana, Monroe County, Warrant issued for Jackie Kinser, Second Degree Arson, August 6, 1969.

Criminal Court Docket, Monroe Circuit Court,” Case No. C69-S125, State of Indiana vs. Jackie Kinser and Carlisle Briscoe, Jr., Carlisle Briscoe Enters Guilty Plea, September 15, 1969.

Criminal Court Docket, Monroe Circuit Court,” Case No. C69-S125, State of Indiana vs. Jackie Kinser and Carlisle Briscoe, Jr., Motion to Dismiss charges against Jackie Kinser. March 23, 1971.

“Quit-Claim Deed,” land deeded to the City of Bloomington from Katherine Canada, December 17, 1976.

THH 32: Giving Voice: Chief Ben Barnes of the Shawnee Tribe

Transcript of Giving Voice: Chief Ben Barnes of the Shawnee Tribe

Beckley: I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Giving Voice.

For this installment of Giving Voice, I was lucky enough to speak with Chief Ben Barnes of the Shawnee Tribe. If you haven’t listened to THH’s two-part series covering the life of Tenskwatawa, I’d suggest going back to do that now, as I do reference those episodes a few times throughout the discussion and they give some good context for understanding where our conversation picks up.

And now, Giving Voice.

Beckley: I’m here today with Chief Ben Barnes of the Shawnee Tribe. I’m so happy that you had time to come on and talk with us today.

Barnes: Thank you very much, Lindsey. I appreciate the invite.

Beckley: Of course. We’re absolutely thrilled to have you on the show. So, I thought we would start off with a super basic question. I know we use the term tribe or tribal nation a lot and I’m not sure that people know exactly what that means, what all that entails, and what being a member of a tribe entails. If you could give us a little bit of insight into that, I would really appreciate it.

Barnes: It’s probably easiest to summarize it in the way the federal government defines it. The constitution of the United States states that there are three types of sovereigns. There is the federal government, there is the states, and there are the tribes. So tribal nations are separate inherent sovereigns within the United States similar in some ways to state governments. So, the constitution dictates that these three entities are sovereigns within each other in our nation. So, for a tribal nation such as the Shawnee Tribe, we are one of those sovereigns and we have been here since prior to the United States, identifying as Shawnee People. We’ve had numerous flags over portions of our area – Spain to the French to Canada to Britain and the Republic of Texas as well as the United States.

Beckley: And to be a part of the Shawnee Tribe or, I guess, any tribal nation, could you give us a little bit of insight into what it means to become a member and what it takes to become a member?

Barnes: If you’re a citizen of Italy, you know you’re a citizen of Italy. You were born, you met the standards of citizenship or Italy. It is much the same with tribal nations. You are a member of that nation. Your ancestors are a part of that community, you have citizenship within that nation. So the government of that tribe recognizes you as a citizen of that indigenous nation of peoples.

Beckley: So, to talk a little bit more about Shawnee history in Indiana, or in present-day Indiana – I think a lot of people think about Potawatomi and Miami maybe, if they think about Native history in Indiana, and they might not know much about the Shawnee connections here. Could you speak to that a little bit?

Barnes: I think you also have to define terms. You’re talking about Indiana. Indiana was much larger than in was at time of statehood. Indiana territory was also Illinois, so Indiana was a very large area. And even before that, Indiana was part of a larger western holding of colonial powers. So, inside what is the current state of Indiana, you have present-day Prophetstown, you have Shawnee villages along the White River. Fort Wayne is also known by other names – Kekionga by the Miami or Chillicothe amongst the Shawnee people. So, the old city of Chillicothe, which is the Shawnee town that was located at Fort Wayne. So, you have Prophetstown where Tenskwatawa the Prophet – he had a town that he lived in, and his brother. During the War of 1812, that was a stronghold for them and they even, prior to the War of 1812, Tecumseh and his brother Tenskwatawa lived along the White River, hatching their plan for pan-Indian resistance to colonialism.

Beckley: Yeah, and if folks have listened to our previous two episodes, they know a little bit more about that, so I’m glad that you touched on that a little bit. I know that you’re still active in the state and that you’re still coming here and doing some work every once in a while. Could you speak to the sort of causes you work for when you come here and how folks can learn more about that?

Barnes: There are federal and state laws that require tribal interactions with the other sovereigns, the federal and the state. And amongst those is a law called NAGPRA – Native American Protection and Repatriation Act. Because Shawnee’s lived in Indiana, and the Indian Removal Act of 1830 forced eastern tribal nations to be relocated to western states like Oklahoma and elsewhere, those villages and the graves of those villages – there are people still buried there. So, as cities expand, as someone puts in a mini mall, as highways are built, occasionally graves are discovered. So, for the Shawnee and other tribes of historic Indiana, we engage in at the state and federal levels with those entities to make sure we’re doing what is best for those people there, and try to be as respectful to the people and make sure those remains are being treated as respectfully as possible, just like you would do with any other cemetery relocation. So, there are federal laws that mandate this for tribal nations and tribal cemeteries.

There is also an educational component that we work with as well. We have a great relationship with the Indiana University staff in various departments – folklore, anthropology, archaeology et cetera, we work very well with them. There’s an ethno-musicology archive of traditional music there at the campus in Bloomington. You know, we’ve known them for more than a decade. And early anthropologists called – a great many of them came out of Indiana University. A lot of that was because one of the early fathers of industry in Indiana, Eli Lilly, had an obsession with Indian artifacts and he hired teams of anthropologists, cartographers, linguists, et cetera to do research on tribal nations. He sent researchers out and one of the peoples that were rich in culture and language were the Shawnee, so Indiana University has known the Shawnee for a long time. And it’s been a pleasure for my tribe to become acquainted with them in the last ten or fifteen years and renew those relationships, but this time on our terms, rather than just having a bungee jumping anthropologist come into our communities, extract data for their own purposes, with no intention of reciprocity with that community.

Beckley: Yeah, we talked a little about that with Chris Newell. . . . about anthropologists coming into communities and using the knowledge of the people living there, and then creating a basis of work that is created out of the ancestral knowledge of these people. Basically, they’re building a career on the knowledge of others.

Barnes: That’s correct. Like, we can take an example- Eli Lilly hired a linguist, Charles Vogel [Voegelin], and [Voegelin] came into Shawnee communities and collected linguistic data, and the purpose of the linguistic data was not to preserve the language. It was not to make sure this language continued to be spoken in the Shawnee community. It was not to develop curriculum so that children could more easily learn the language of their ancestors as they were facing the pressures of assimilation. His goal was to bring that information back to Indiana, use it to create Masters and PhD’s and prove the richness of the university experience and part of the linguistics of Indiana. And so, untold careers were launched literally off the bones of our ancestors – the voices of our ancestors, with no thought for reciprocity towards the people that were contributing that knowledge. So that richness of these indigenous communities that lifted up these scholars, there was no reciprocity back to our communities to make sure that these cultures could benefit from the research that was going on. There has been a change in academia – largely because of pressure and interest from tribal nations wanting to engage with academics and journals and other academic publishing – to tell a truer story of early America. To make sure that Native voices are included in those narratives, that the context is not lost and that we can re-contextualize those old documents and put Shawnee voices back into them.

Beckley: Absolutely. We talk a little bit about that in our past two episodes. We’re using these colonized documents, but we have to find a way to contextualize them with Native voice and make sure that we’re telling as complete of a story as we can.

Barnes: That’s how it started for me . . . I initially got into tribal government, there was a couple of key issues and one of them was language preservation. So, quickly, when you do the work of language preservation, you come in contact with the archive. So, Indiana, there is this troika of institutions. The triad of institutions that hold the corpus of Shawnee language and one of them happens to be Indiana, and that’s because of Charles [Voegelin] and his time and tenure as a linguist in the employ of Eli Lilly.

Beckley: So, what sorts of things are you doing to promote the language, the Shawnee language? Are you doing curriculum? Is that something that you’re interested in? What kinds of things are you working towards?

Barnes: Curriculum and pedagogy methods. So, the world’s turned, and it’s changed and it’s becoming more digital and while we are able to, like, you and I are talking from a vast distance today, across a couple of computers. In prior generations, it was the telephone, and before that we had to send letters, so the method of teaching needs to adapt to become more like 2020 than 1920. And unfortunately, a lot of language teaching methods are still based in early-20th century teaching methodologies. Well, that doesn’t work in a diaspora community where people are spread across a continent. And so, we have to find new ways to deliver content and to deliver curriculum.

Beckley: I think that being here in a time when we are all separated by a distance and communicating through various methods – Zoom, Google Hangouts, and whatnot, I think that that has really opened our eyes to a few more opportunities as far as teaching methods and stuff like that. I know I’m taking an online baking class this weekend so it’s interesting to see how much people have kind of opened up different avenues for teaching different topics.

Barnes: Yeah, there’s a little irony for me . . . you know, we’re talking about these bungee jumping anthropologists that would jump into our communities and take data, you know, and they were observing our communities. Well, now, we find that the coin is flipped and we’re watching you guys in the glass bubble of academic institutions and seeing how you’re going to handle campuses that are closed. How are you going to be able to deliver curriculum? Universities have been loathe to move to an online learning model – they’re stuck in the Oxford method of teaching people. One person stands in front of a class and teaches forty or fifty people. Well, how are you going to accomplish that now with social distancing? So, it’s interesting and ironic to me. Now we’re watching you, instead of, a century ago, you were watching us.

Beckley: Hopefully we’ll be able to navigate it a little bit better than – I think we’ve pivoted a bit. It took a little bit, but it seems like people are slowly but surely figuring it out. Speaking of COVID-19 and the social distancing, I was wondering if you could speak a little bit to how the pandemic has hit your people and just Native populations in general.

Barnes: I suspect it’s much like other states. We’ve been watching other states and other locals deal with this and I see Kentucky responding differently than Tennessee, or I see this county respond differently than that county or this city compared to this city. So, each one has its own type of leadership. And it’s much the same in Indian country. One county’s more progressive in its measures, you know, they put in more restrictive methods. We have another county that wants to have the economic – has more economic concerns. They may have a tax issue in their city and there’s a real cash need to make sure that things go back to normal as quick as possible, seeing how those things are balanced. So, we’re watching those things.

But, at least with the Shawnee tribe, within our government itself, we find ourselves in an advantageous position that we are equipped financially to ride this out and keep our people employed. We’ve been lucky to secure food, and for Shawnee citizens, we have ShawneeRelief.org, where we’re providing food for the elderly to keep them indoors as much as possible. We try to keep everyone up to date. Language curriculum is now being delivered in an online – it’s forced us to move to an online format sooner than we wanted. We had a project that was in the planning process for 2020, to be deployed in 2021, to deliver online language classrooms to our citizens. Well, we’re finding ourselves having to do that now and we’re not even halfway through the year.

Beckley: It sounds like you guys are, along with all of us, pivoting well. I’m glad to hear that.

Barnes: We’ve been really lucky. We’ve found that some of our best resources have been our tribal citizens. I found a epidemiologist that is a tribal citizen and she lives in Norman [Oklahoma] and works at the University of Oklahoma, and she’s an epidemiologist. So, actually being able to have someone who is able to interpret some of the details that I just don’t understand, I don’t have the education to interpret. . . . And to be able to draft policy at a governmental level, send it to an epidemiologist, and have them give me professional advice on what that should look like and on what areas we can do better, what steps are unnecessary – that is invaluable. So, we are very fortunate that we have the citizens that have the skill sets to be able to contribute to their tribal nation in this difficult time of social distancing.

Beckley: I think that is about all the time we have, but I was hoping you could tell the folks at home how they can learn more about your work, and about the Shawnee Nation and about Shawnee history – is there any online resources for them that you would suggest?

Barnes: Online resources are always dodgy when it comes to indigenous peoples because you always have to question the source – who wrote it, what was the context of it? The three Shawnee Tribes are the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma, the Absentee Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma, and the Shawnee Tribe. Each of us have our own corresponding website. Those are the three Shawnee tribes. There has been a body of work that has been written by scholars. The best is a guy named Stephen Warren. Stephen Warren’s written a couple of books on Shawnee people. There’s others that have written on treaties like Collin Calloway, he’s written on Shawnee people. So, I would start with a couple of those books and look at the references at the back of the book – who did they cite, who did they read, who did they research? Because those are two top notch scholars.

Beckley: We’ll put a link to those things in our show notes which are found at blog.history.in.gov. Ben, I want to thank you so much for coming on today. It’s been a real pleasure talking with you.

Barnes: Thank you for the invite. We appreciate it.

Beckley: Once again, I want to thank Chief Barnes for taking the time to talk with me for this episode. As mentioned at the end of that discussion, check out the show notes for useful links for resources to learn about the Shawnee Tribe. We’ll be back on June 10 with a new episode! In the meantime, follow the Indiana Historical Bureau on Facebook and Twitter for daily doses of Indiana history tidbits. Subscribe, rate and review Talking Hoosier History wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening!

THH Episode 31: Tenskwatawa: The Rise and Fall of a Nation

Transcript of Tenskwatawa: The Rise and Fall of a Nation

Beckley: I just wanted to drop in here at the top of the episode to give a little bit of a disclaimer. We are currently working from home due to COVID-19, so the sound quality of this episode might be a little bit different from what you’re used to hearing from Talking Hoosier History, since I’m using different equipment than usual. And now, on to the show.

Jump to Show Notes

Written by Lindsey Beckley, produced by Jill Weiss Simins, sound engineering by Justin Clark.

[Flute Music]

Beckley: This is the second of a two-part series covering the life of Indigenous leader Tenskwatawa. If you haven’t listened to the first part, I highly recommend you go do so now and come back after listening. Otherwise, you might be a bit lost coming in at this point in the story.

In “Tenskwatawa: The Making of a Prophet,” we explored the years leading up to and immediately following the birth of Tenskwatawa into the Shawnee tribe. During the late 18th and early 19th centuries, there was a cycle which played out all across North America. Colonial, and later American, settlers invaded Native Land, Native People fought to keep their land, but were forced to settle elsewhere only for white settlers to once again violently invade, restarting the cycle.

We also followed Tenskwatawa’s transformation from a relatively obscure figure into a political and spiritual leader for thousands of Native Peoples. We left off just after Tenskwatawa received his directives in a vision from the Great Spirit – he was to eschew all European customs, not only to return to the old ways, but also to start a new chapter in the Native story, one in which all Native People are united under the teachings of The Prophet.

Tenskwatawa’s village near modern-day Greenville, Ohio, was structured to reflect this idea of a pan-Indian identity, at least ideally. When people came to Greenville, they were to leave behind their tribal affiliations and become part of the greater whole.

And we left off with Tenskwatawa summoning Native People to gather at Greenville to witness a demonstration of his power. He was going to “put out the sun.” When the appointed day came and the sun did indeed disappear from the sky in a total eclipse, the Prophet sat in his tent while his followers observed the fulfillment of his prophesy. When he finally emerged from his tent, he spoke:

Voice actor: “Behold! Did I not prophesy correctly? See, darkness is coming.”

Beckley: With those words, the sun returned, illuminating his wisdom and power.

I’m Lindsey Beckley and this is Talking Hoosier History.

From our vantage point, it may be easy to think about the Prophet’s attempt to create an autonomous pan-Indian nation as being doomed to fail.  But putting yourself in the shoes of those living through these events might change how you see them. To Tenskwatawa and his followers, and to the white settlers of the area, the Prophet’s movement looked formidable, because it was. And it was this threat, as well as the unpredictability of settler-Native interactions that intimidated U.S. leaders.

In the early 1800s, Tenskwatawa led the largest population center in the region, and his following was only growing larger. And Native People had governed themselves and the land they lived on for millennia before European contact – why would it seem implausible to think a version of that could be restored?

Today, we look at a moment many historians view as the tipping point of Tenskwatawa’s power –the Battle of Tippecanoe. Before the battle, anything was possible. After it, all was lost. This narrative has been repeated in books and classrooms for decades. But is that really the case? Could it really be that cut and dry? No, of course not. And let’s explore why.

After Tenskwatawa’s prophesy was fulfilled, cementing his followers’ faith in him and lending further credence to his movement, many indigenous people traveled to Greenville. In the months after the eclipse, white settlers from as far away as present-day Wisconsin reported that:

Voice actor: “The Indians are crowding down upon us from the Green Bay on their way as they say to see the Shawonese at Greenville.”

Beckley: With so many Native People on the move, the white authorities of the Northwest began to grow uneasy. They questioned whether the mass of people gathering around Greenville were there just to hear the teachings of the Prophet and, indeed, if those teachings were purely religious in nature.

Playing on rising tensions between England and the United States, conspiracies of an impending British-backed Native assault on nearby American settlers swirled among the white communities, but it never came to fruition. In fact, Tenskwatawa had already received another message from the Great Spirit commanding him to move his followers away from Greenville. So, in the spring of 1808, Tenskwatawa and his people arrived just north of present-day Lafayette, Indiana. This new settlement would be called Prophetstown.

This move, ordained by the Great Spirit, was also quite advantageous to the prophet and to his followers. Prophetstown was situated at the confluence of the Wabash and Tippecanoe Rivers – meaning that it could only be approached from two sides. It was also a very fertile area, an important feature, as the Prophet’s followers had nearly starved at Greenville in 1807.

Prophetstown featured European-style houses, wigwams, a large storehouse, a central structure where any visiting Native person could stay called the House of the Stranger, and possibly even a blacksmith shop. All trees around the town were cleared, a strategic move, which stripped the land of any concealment for an oncoming army.

The Prophet had plenty of reason to prepare for that eventuality. Prophetstown was a mere 150 miles from Vincennes, the seat of government in the Northwest Territory. William Henry Harrison, the territorial governor and future U.S. president, was wary of his new neighbors, who numbered somewhere between three and six thousand people. By comparison, Vincennes, the capitol of the territory, had an approximate population of 1,500 around the same time. Harrison was convinced that Prophetstown was more than a holy city – he thought it was a rising political and military threat. And he wasn’t completely mistaken.

While Tenskwatawa was a religious leader, many of his teachings, such as his assertion that all land occupied by Native Peoples was owned collectively and without tribal distinction, as well as his advocacy of a pan-Indian nation, were inherently political. Success in these endeavors would have undercut European power in the area, making it impossible for government officials to exploit tribal differences when conducting negotiations or going to war. Eventually, this could stop the encroachment of white settlers on Indigenous peoples’ lands. Tenskwatawa and his warriors would defend their border, but it’s important to note, he was not intending to launch an offensive attack. In fact, he was offering peace. In a message delivered to Harrison in June 1808, Tenskwatawa said:

Voice actor: “It never was my intention to lift up my hand against the Americans . . . We had determined to follow the advice of the Great Spirit, who has told us that our former conduct is not right: that we ought to live in peace upon the land he has given us.

. . . I am now very much engaged in making my new settlement but as soon as it is completed, I will pay you a visit and hope to remove every bad impression you have received against me.”

Beckley: Harrison accepted the Prophet’s offer of a summit and in August of 1808, Tenskwatawa and William Henry Harrison came face to face for the first time in Vincennes. Against seemingly insurmountable odds, the two kind of hit it off. The Prophet stayed in Vincennes for several weeks and the men spoke of religion and politics. By the end of the visit, Harrison’s fears of an attack from Prophetstown seemed to have been quelled. He wrote to Secretary of War Henry Dearborn:

Voice actor: I am inclined to think that the influence which the Prophet has acquired will prove rather advantageous than otherwise to the United States.”

Beckley: Harrison also agreed to send funds for provisions to Prophetstown – a much needed break for the settlement as drought had destroyed the majority of their crops. Resulting food shortages caused many followers to lose faith and return to their home villages.

The goodwill that resulted from this meeting didn’t last long, however. And it wasn’t enough to dissuade Harrison from his mission of expanding the United States’ land holdings in the Northwest. Just over a year later, Harrison gathered representatives of the Miami, Delaware, Potawatomi, Wea, and Kickapoo at Fort Wayne. Conspicuously absent was the leader of the largest population center of the Old Northwest – the Prophet hadn’t even been informed of the proceedings.

Harrison had strategically chosen who to invite to the negotiations – all leaders he thought he could coerce to sign a treaty. And he was right. After days of cajoling, bribing, threatening, and supplying a few hundred gallons of rum, coupled with the ever-present threat of military and economic pressure, the leaders at the summit were compelled to sign the Treaty of Fort Wayne in September of 1809, ceding 300,000 acres of land to the U.S. government.

Tenskwatawa was furious at this perceived betrayal. Although the land didn’t include Prophetstown, he believed that all Nations were one and so no land belonging to any Indigenous group could be sold without the consent of the leader of the pan-Indian nation – him. The Prophet wasn’t the only one upset, either. People flocked to Prophetstown after the news of the treaty spread. They came from many nations – Miami, Wyandot, Sac, Iowa, Winnebego, Potawatomi, Kickapoo, Shawnee, Ojibwe, and Ottawa. But once they arrived in Prophetstown, Tenskwatawa declared them one people.

In the aftermath of the Treaty of Fort Wayne, Tenskwatawa’s older brother emerged as the military leader of Prophetstown, while The Prophet continued his role as political and religious leader. Tecumseh, who up to this point had widely been known simply as “The Prophet’s brother,” began to travel to tribes affected by recent white expansion and recruit them to his brother’s cause, with considerable success. In 1810, his diplomatic role expanded when he attended what was supposedly a peace summit with William Henry Harrison. Harrison, however, had already made up his mind – he wanted to eliminate Prophetstown for its resistance to the Treaty of Fort Wayne. Unsurprisingly, the peace summit, which began with threats of a shoot-out, didn’t go well. Relations were, if anything, more strained by the end of the “peace talks.”

Harrison wanted to attack Prophetstown but leaders in Washington declined to give their permission, saying he could only act defensively. So, Harrison did the one thing he knew would provoke Tenskwatawa and Tecumseh into action. He sent surveyors into land which had been ceded to the U.S. government in opposition to Tenskwatawa’s wishes. One day into the mission, the surveyors were kidnapped by members of the Wea tribe, allies of the Prophet. Although the men were released the next day, the damage had been done. Harrison, with this “proof” of aggression from Prophetstown, wrote to the Secretary of War asking for approval of his war plans multiple times in the following months. Finally, he got the answer he wanted – he could attack Prophetstown.

And there was no better time than the present. Tecumseh, the war leader of the settlement, was away on a diplomatic mission, a vulnerability known to Harrison. So, on September 26, 1811, American troops set out from Vincennes in the direction of Prophetstown. In early November, Harrison and his troops arrived just outside of Prophetstown and set up camp.

Tenskwatawa, hoping to avoid battle, asked for peace negotiations. Harrison, although resolute in his decision to attack, accepted. The meeting was set for the following day, November 7, 1811. The meeting would never happen though, and while we know the broad strokes of the events that followed, it’s impossible to know the exact sequence of events leading up to the battle.

Traditionally, historians have relied on a mixture of Harrison’s account of the events and that of Shabonee, a man from the Ottawa tribe who was a follower of Tenskwatawa’s teachings but later allied himself with the Americans.

In this version of events, the request for negotiation was nothing but a ruse by the Prophet, who ordered a sneak attack on Harrison’s camp to be carried out  two hours before sunrise, when Harrison’s men would be blinded by their camp fires. In this account, the Prophet’s forces snuck soundlessly out of the dark to fire upon Harrison’s men.

This narrative is often recited as fact, but historian Adam Jortner raises questions about the veracity of the sources. Harrison had political motivations for casting Tenskwatawa as carrying out a sneak attack after requesting peace under false pretenses. And Shabonee, while he was a follower of Tenskwatawa during the battle, didn’t give his account until decades later, after adopting an accommodationist ideology and while employed by the United States government.

Jortner, along with historian Alfred Cave, propose a different sequence of events, this one based on reports given to American Indian agent Matthew Elliott by an unnamed Kickapoo chief just weeks after the battle. So, not a perfect source as it’s still secondhand and relayed by a white agent, but its proximity in time to the events makes it a little more trustworthy.

In this second version, American sentinels panicked and accidentally shot two Native warriors patrolling in the night. The news spread through Prophetstown and their forces attacked the next morning, either with the reluctant consent of Tenskwatawa or against his wishes entirely.

It’s quite possible that neither version is wholly accurate. And considering that neither of these accounts came directly from Tenskwatawa, and neither are free of a white lens, it’s almost guaranteed they are not completely accurate.  Even if we did have access to an account of events directly from the Prophet, the events probably would have looked different depending on which side you were on, and the search for an “objective truth” is often futile.

What we do know is that fighting broke out and what followed was what we know today as the Battle of Tippecanoe. Harrison labeled the battle a great victory and used it very successfully to bolster his political reputation, eventually becoming a top U.S. military leader and then president.

As is so often the case, the victor, even if he was but a self-proclaimed one, wrote the story. Shabonee’s and Harrison’s version of the story would be recounted by historians for much of the next 200 years. But were the outcomes of this battle as clear as Harrison led the country to believe? Absolutely not.

Looking at casualty counts alone would suggest Tenskwatawa was the victor. He lost approximately fifty soldiers to Harrison’s 180. However, Tenskwatawa retreated, abandoned Prophetstown to Harrison, and watched as Harrison burned it along with all the crops surrounding it.

This was certainly a blow, but even so, Prophetstown was reconstructed in less than a month. Additionally, an unprovoked American attack earned the Prophetstown movement more followers in the immediate aftermath of the clash, further discounting the assertion that the Battle of Tippecanoe itself was a devastating and ultimately fatal blow to Tenskwatawa’s movement.

Perhaps the most impactful outcome of the battle was actually  Harrison’s portrayal of the battle and its effect in Washington. Members of Congress concluded that the Native Peoples wouldn’t have fought against the Americans, risking annuities provided by the government, simply to preserve their land. No, there had to be more to it. They decided that the only plausible explanation was that Tenskwatawa and his warriors were in league with the British, who were surely promising annuities of their own. There was no evidence to support this besides Governor Harrison’s long-standing accusations that Prophetstown was working for the British.

Nevertheless, the U.S. government held it as a fact. This belief – that the British were conspiring with Native forces to launch attacks on American forts and other holdings – was one in a string of complaints against Britain. The American belief that the British were inciting Native attacks, along with ongoing naval issues regarding freedom of the seas, economic sanctions, and American sovereignty led Congress to declare war on June 18, 1812 against Great Britain. Today, we call this the War of 1812.

During the War of 1812, Tenskwatawa took a back seat to his brother, who was a better warrior with more experience. Just as the war was starting, Tecumseh established an alliance with British forces – an unsurprising move given the prolonged tensions between Prophetstown and the American government. After battling to preserve the land the Prophet had claimed for his people in present-day northern Indiana during the early war, a devastating blow for the movement came when Tecumseh died in battle in October 1813. After that battle, Tenskwatawa fled the pursuing American forces to Upper Canada, where he and a small group of followers stayed for over a decade, well past the 1815 end of the war.

Following these years of exile in Canada, the Prophet returned to the U.S. in 1825 to lead a contingent of Shawnee to Kansas, where he set up the last, much smaller iteration of Prophetstown. He lived there until his death in 1836.

[Music]

Beckley: While his movement ultimately failed, Tenskwatawa and his followers at Prophetstown represent a piece of history often overlooked – organized resistance to white settlement. Many look back at history and see the eventual removal of Native Peoples to the west as an inevitability. However, in the aspirations of Tenskwatawa, we see another possible outcome – one in which an autonomous pan-Indian nation could succeed and coexist adjacent to the United States, something which the Prophet advocated for, saying:

Voice actor: “I hope what I now say will be engraven on your heart. It is my determination to obey the Great Spirit and live in peace with you and your people. . . . This is what the Great Spirit has told us repeatedly. We are all made by him, although we differ a little in colour. We are all his children and should live in peace and friendship with each other.”

Beckley: I want to reiterate the importance of remembering that this outcome – the dwindling of the Prophet’s power – was by no means inevitable. The failure to establish an autonomous pan-Indian nation was also not inevitable. In fact, part of the terms of the wartime alliance between Prophetstown and the British forces was the establishment of a “buffer state” between Canada and the United States. This agreement put the Prophet and his followers in the best position for success and autonomy after the war, as the “buffer state” was to be an independent Indigenous nation, a possibility that remained as feasible, if not likely, right up to the end of the war.

Considering the outcomes of historical events to be pre-ordained – especially when discussing something as complicated as this – erases the agency of the people involved. It erases the fact that these were real people fighting for a real cause with real reason to hope for success. And who are we to take that away?

The story of Prophetstown is not by any means the entire story of Native resistance to white encroachment, and removal and resistance is not the entire story of Native People in the Hoosier state. There are Indigenous people living in and making history in Indiana today. And we at IHB have committed ourselves to preserving this history. If you are an Indigenous person living in Indiana, we want to hear from you. We are looking for the stories that have been left out of the textbooks and have not been commemorated by historical markers. What stories did you grow up hearing? Who did you look up to? We’d love to listen to your recollections and do what we can to help you preserve your history. Email me at lbeckley@library.in.gov with any questions, suggestions, or stories you’d like to share.

Once again, I’m Lindsey Beckley and this has been Talking Hoosier History. Talking Hoosier History is a product of the Indiana Historical Bureau, a division of the Indiana State Library. The music in this episode was written and performed by multi Native American Music Award winner and Indian Summer Music Award winner Golaná from the Echota Cherokee tribe. All tracks used were from the albums “Meditations for Two” and “Path to the Heart.” You can learn more about Golaná’s music and purchase his albums at oginali.com. You can find a link in the show notes. I used the book The Gods of Prophetstown by Adam Jortner as my main secondary source for this episode. If you would like to see all of my sources, visit blog.history.in.gov and click “Talking Hoosier History” at the top to see a full transcript and show notes. Talking Hoosier History is written by me, Lindsey Beckley. Sound engineering on this episode was by Justin Clark with help from Jill Weiss Simins. Join us in two weeks for the next installment of Giving Voice, where we’ll be talking to Shawnee Chief Ben Barnes. Until then, catch us on social media as Indiana Historical Bureau and remember to subscribe, rate, and review wherever you get your podcasts.

Thanks for listening!

Show Notes for Tenskwatawa: The Rise and Fall of a Nation

Music:

All music in this episode was produced by award-winning Native artist Golaná from the Echota Cherokee tribe. Listen to and purchase Golaná’s music here: oginali.com.

The tracks heard in this episode are from the albums “Meditations for Two” and “Path to the Heart.”

Books:

Calloway, Colin, First Peoples: A Documentary Survey of American Indian History, (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2016).

Calloway, Collin, The Shawnees and the War for America, (New York: Penguin Books, 2007).

Cayton, Andrew, Frontier Indiana, (Bloomington: IU Press, 1998).

Dubar-Ortiz, Roxanne, An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2014).

Edmunds, David, Tecumseh and the Quest for Indian Leadership, (New York: Pearson Longman, 2008).

Edmunds, David, The Shawnee Prophet, (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983).

Gugin, Linda and St. Clair. James, Indiana’s 200: The People Who Shaped the Hoosier State, (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society), 346-348.

Harrison, William Henry, Messages and Letter of William Henry Harrison, 1773-1841, (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Commission, 1922).

Jortner, Adam, The Gods of Prophetstown: The Battle of Tippecanoe and the Holy War for the American Frontier, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).

Kinietz, Vernon, and Voegelin, Ermine, Shawnese Traditions C.C. Trowbridge’s Account, (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1939).

Madison, James, and Sandweiss, Lee Ann, Hoosiers and the American Story, (Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society Press, 2014).

McNemar, Richard, The Kentucky Revival, or, A Short History of the Late Extraordinary Outpouring of the Spirit of God in the Western States of America: Agreeably to Scripture Promises and Prophecies Concerning the Latter Day: with a Brief Account of the Entrance and Progress of What the World Call Shakerism among the Subjects of the Late Revival in Ohio and Kentucky : Presented to the True Zion-traveler as a Memorial of the Wilderness Journey, (New York: Reprinted by Edward O. Jenkins, 1846).

Michigan Historical Commission, Michigan Historical Collections, vol. 40, (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Library, 2006), 127-133.

Sugden, John, Tecumseh: A Life, (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1997).

Warren, Stephen, The Shawnees and Their Neighbors, 1795-1870, (Illinois: University of Illinois, 2005).

Websites:

Candey, Robert, and Young, Alex, “Total Solar Eclipse of 1806 June 16,” accessed https://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov/SEsearch/SEsearchmap.php?Ecl=18060616.

Academic Journals:

Cave, Alfred, “The Shawnee Prophet, Tecumseh, and Tippecanoe: A Case Study of Historical Myth-Making,” Journal of the Early Republic, 22, no. 4 (Winter, 2002), accessed https://www.jstor.org/stable/3124761?read-now=1&loggedin=true&seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents.

Don’t Fritter Away Your Downtime: A Guide to Historical Hoosier Cooking

You’ve been (hopefully) sticking close to home and avoiding crowded stores for over three weeks now. If, like us, you’re peering into your pantry to find naught but potatoes, rice, and stale bread, we have just the thing for you: historical recipes!

Greentown, Indiana toddler holding a loaf of bread, ca. 1905, courtesy of Indiana Album.

Our ancestors were exceptionally skilled at making food last. They weren’t able to flit to the corner store to pick up a few staples or summon UberEats deliveries. Largely, they had what they had until they could grow more. Have stale bread? Make bread pudding or breadcrumbs. Have chicken bones or vegetable scraps? Make broth. Have a 10 lb. bag of rice but your significant other suddenly doesn’t like rice even though you’ve been making rice for years and he never complained before?

Anyway, when I look into my barren refrigerator and think, “what would my ancestors have made?” my next stop is Hoosier State Chronicles, which has nearly 1 million pages of freely-accessible digitized historical Indiana newspapers. Some of these include thousands of time tested recipes! Plugging in any given pantry staple brings up dozens of recipes. Granted, some are more useful than others (sadly, I think few of my loved ones would be tempted by a recipe for Tongue Toast), but by and large, these recipes are simple, economical, and delicious! Let’s take a tour through 19th century papers, using search terms for a few items I still have left in my house.

As the sage hobbit Samwise Gamgee once said, “Boil ’em, mash ’em, stick ’em in a stew!” One of the best things about potatoes is their versatility. That, and the fact that they can last for months if stored properly, make them the perfect pantry staple. Let’s take a look at several potato recipes from the April 15, 1876 issue of the Terre Haute Saturday Evening Mail. 

(Terre Haute) Saturday Evening Star, April 15, 1876, page 3

This fairly basic recipe for mashed potatoes takes a wild turn towards the end when the author casually suggests making a mashed potato custard! Similar to the filling of a sweet potato pie, this recipe calls for boiled potatoes, milk, butter, eggs, sugar, and nutmeg. After consulting some modern recipes, I’ve made an educated guess as to the amount of each since, as with so many historical recipes, this one leaves much to be desired in the way of specificity.

These potato fritters are – as advertised – absolutely delicious! I haven’t made every recipe in this post, but I have made these and I highly recommend them. They get even better if you add in a little bit of bacon, cheese, jalapeño, or anything else you have around the kitchen.

This “potato cake” recipe is basically just a recipe for delicious, always soft, and surprisingly healthy potato bread.

Remember the 10 lb. bag of rice I mentioned earlier? Despite what my husband has to say about it, I’m going to be making a lot of rice in the coming days. Luckily, I was able to track down some alternative uses from the 19th century that may help in this endeavor.

Indiana State Sentinel, January 14, 1891.

This simple rice pie can be enhanced with any number of additions. Add in raisins, prunes, and brown sugar, for a sweeter dish, or bacon bits, chives, and cheese for a more savory breakfast item. This recipe from Martha Stewart even adds in a bit of brandy into the mix.

Indiana State Sentinel, January 14, 1891.

Rice . . . but make it waffles! This interesting take on waffles will mix things up at your breakfast table. I think since this recipe is on the simple side, it would be a great base to build upon. Top it with gravy. Or go the sweet route and top with fruit and syrup. Or go for the all-out savory dish and make these loaded rice waffles with sausage, spinach, tomatoes, and cheddar cheese. Since this recipe uses some outdated measuring terms (1 gill is roughly 1 cup), I’ve modernized it a bit below to make it easier to follow.

 

Indiana State Sentinel, January 14, 1891.

Now for something I had never heard of before – Rice Croquettes. These endlessly tweakable fried rice balls can be made to fit anyone’s palette. A quick online search reveals cheesy bacon croquettes,  mozzarella croquettes, and ham and cheese croquettes.

Do you eat the heel of your bread loaves? If not, what do you do with them? Consider this – a typical loaf of bread contains twenty to twenty-four pieces including the heels. If you are in the habit of throwing away the heels, that means you’re throwing away 10% of every loaf of bread you buy. If your family eats a loaf of bread per week, you’re throwing away over five loaves of bread a year! Never waste a piece of bread again with these historical hacks for using even the hardest bits of stale (or unwanted) bread.

(Terre Haute) Saturday Evening Mail, February 9, 1884. page 7.

Breadcrumbs are an ever-useful thing to have around the kitchen. From coating your rice croquettes or chicken tenders for frying to filling out your meatballs, you’ll always find a use for these crumbs.

Indianapolis Recorder, April 22, 1899, page 3.

These coffee fritters use up your stale bread at double time – the fritters themselves are made of strips of stale bread and they’re coated in stale bread crumbs before being fried. Delicious with your morning coffee or afternoon tea, I’ve made this recipe and it’s mouthwatering just as it’s written.

Left: Jasper Weekly Courier, November 30, 1877. Right: (Terre Haute) Saturday Evening Mail, January 27, 1894.

My favorite thing to make with stale bread is bread pudding. Traditionally, like many English puddings, bread pudding is boiled in a pudding basin or a tightly woven cloth. See an example of this done with 18th century plum pudding here. More popular in America, though, is the baked version of this delectable dessert, so I’m including an example of each. Below is each recipe broken down and translated for the modern kitchen.

Serve warm with brandy sauce. 

Want more recipes? From dried beans to pigs feet, there are recipes for just about any food item waiting to be found in the pages of historical Indiana newspapers. Show us what you make on twitter by tagging us @in_bureau!