Glimmers of Change (50 page)

Carrie stared at Abby, her enthusiasm somewhat deflated. “It’s so clearly the right thing,” she argued.

“Absolutely,” Abby agreed, “but the rightness of something doesn’t make it so.”

Janie spun away from the mirror. “It’s because men have considered women inferior far longer than they have considered blacks inferior,” she said flatly. “We’re going to have to fight longer.

Elizabeth and Alice walked into the room. “Which just goes to show what idiots men are,” Alice said scornfully, her blue eyes snapping above her cream-colored gown.

“How dare they believe that!” Carrie said angrily.

Alice settled down on the window seat where Carrie was perched. “You may be the medical genius but you clearly have a lot to learn about women’s place in society.”

“Our
place
? You believe we have a place?”

“Well of course not,” Alice replied. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be in medical school, but can you honestly tell me you haven’t bashed into patriarchal beliefs before? The church has done a rather effective job of indoctrinating men with their self-proclaimed place in the sexual hierarchy. Most men believe women are not only inferior, they believe it is their duty to control women and help her redeem herself from her naturally sinful being.”

Carrie stared at her, her thoughts spinning. “The same way the South felt about the slaves?”

“Yes, but it goes far deeper because it’s not a regional issue or an economic issue. It’s not even a religious distinction. It’s become much more than that. It’s a belief that the vast majority of men all over the world hold.”

Carrie stared at Alice and then turned her attention to Abby. “She’s right, isn’t she?” she asked slowly. “Have I really been so oblivious to the battle women have to fight?” She had known things were harder for women, but she was slowly becoming aware that her understanding was startlingly limited.

“You’ve been rather preoccupied the last few years,” Abby said gently. “And you were just eighteen when the war started. You had a father who gave you rather free rein on the plantation, and the circumstances of the war meant that Dr. Wild gave you freedoms you might not have received in other circumstances.”

“
Might
not have received?” Janie snorted. “Dr. Wild wouldn’t have even had the choice if there hadn’t been a war going on.”

Carrie spun around and stared at the strange light in Janie’s eyes. She’d never heard such contemptuous anger in her gentle friend’s voice before. She wasn’t sure she recognized this woman. “Janie?”

Janie smiled, but the light of battle still burned in her eyes. “The last year has changed me,” she said with a shrug. “Clifford made me wake up to the truth of how few rights I had as a woman. Coming here to school, having to fight the men that harass us daily, and deal with male doctors who try to block everything we do has given me a fresh understanding of how vital equal rights are for women.”

Carrie opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted when Nancy appeared at the door holding several newspapers.

“Michael just delivered these,” Nancy said brightly. “As promised, I am bringing them to you immediately.”

Carrie and Florence dove for the newspapers. Florence was the first to discover what she was looking for. “Here it is,” she cried. “The latest article by Matthew. He wrote this one two days ago on the eighth.”

Carrie settled back to listen, exchanging a long look with Abby. They had both received long letters from Robert and Matthew two days earlier that had explained the full horror of what the five men had experienced. Articles had been pouring in from Matthew, Peter, and Crandall in the last five days, detailing the events of the riot. It seemed every newspaper in the country had picked them up, creating a firestorm of sentiment.

Florence smoothed back the paper and began to read.

Five days after the last fire was extinguished, and the last black man fell before an attacker, another steamer full of blacks anxious to escape Memphis has headed north in the wake of the steamers that carried most of the northern missionaries away from the violence. Men and women who came to Memphis intent on helping the freedmen have fled to escape the retribution that had been promised by the rioters. Thousands of the freedmen, desperate to escape the danger and memories, have followed them.

“Thousands of the blacks were hiding in Fort Pickering since the riot,” Carrie interrupted. “I bet they are the ones who headed north.”

The others nodded somberly and then looked back at Florence. She took a breath and continued reading.

Now that peace has once more settled on Memphis, attention has turned to understanding the true circumstances of the riot. I have learned that General Stoneman, now solidly in control of the city, is demanding answers from Mayor Parks. He wants to know what steps are being taken by the civil authorities to punish the rioters and how Memphis will compensate those whose property was destroyed. He also wants to know how the authorities are going to ensure that citizens not go around armed and just how they plan to protect the freedman.

I have also learned General Stoneman sent a letter to his commanding offer, Major General George H. Thomas in Nashville. In this letter he vows to make the city of Memphis pay the full value of all losses and expenses suffered or incurred in the riot, either by individuals or the government. He believes such a tax levy will not only secure financial restitution, but also make the city of Memphis, and through them the people of the South, feel and realize that such disgraceful proceedings cannot and will not be tolerated by the United States government.

While this journalist appreciates his boldness, I cannot help but wish General Stoneman had exhibited such boldness and initiative while forty-eight blacks were being killed and scores of others raped, beaten, and robbed. I wish bold action had been taken before hundreds of buildings and homes were burned to the ground, but I am also grateful for his dedication in the aftermath.

General Stoneman has appointed a commission to investigate the riot. This four-man commission, led by Runkle, the head of the Freedmen’s Bureau in Memphis, will call witnesses, gather facts about the causes and events of the riot, identify rioters and victims, and tally the property losses. A conversation with Stoneman revealed he already has a solid idea of what the commission will find, bolstered by what he has learned since the riot.

It is very clear now that the Memphis Rebel newspapers had serious influence in provoking the riot by spurning the truth and printing fiction that would inflame the rioters and help them fulfill their own agenda of clearing Memphis of all blacks. It is also blatantly clear that the largely Irish Memphis police, instead of protecting and serving their city, were instead the ones responsible for much of the violence and killing. I and my fellow journalists saw it with our own eyes, as we have reported, but now many are stepping up to reveal the truth.

It is also important to note that the great majority of whites in the city, including former Confederate soldiers, not only had no hand in the riot, but were violently opposed to it. I myself saw many whites trying to put out the fires flaming throughout the city on the last night of the riot.

I am told by many sources that the men who have the most blood on their hands from the riot have either fled the city or are hiding out. Having seen what they are capable of, this journalist is not surprised by their cowardice.

In answer to several Rebel newspapers’ assertion that the freedmen started the riots and that the whites were the primary victim, I would like to put these questions out for consideration. Has one white woman or one white child been harmed? Has a single dwelling of a white person been entered or destroyed? Has any unarmed white man been in any way injured by a freedman?

The answer to all the above questions is a resounding no. The riot in Memphis was nothing more than a massacre of unarmed and unresisting blacks. It is clear that the United States government should force the civil authorities, who failed in their duty to prevent the slaughter and destruction, to make restitution.

This will not help the children who will never again see their slain parents. It will not aid the women emotionally battered by rape. It will certainly not change reality for the scores of black men who have been so severely injured they will never be able to work again.

It will, perhaps, send a message that any new violence against the freedmen anywhere in the country will not be tolerated. Perhaps the certainty of circumstances will make people think twice before they copy the hatred and violence in Memphis.

A long silence fell on the room when Florence finished reading. The rumble of carriages on the road below the house slowly brought them back to the present.

“Impressive,” Alice said softly. “I can feel his passion in his writing.” She glanced at Carrie. “Will you introduce me to him when he is next in Philadelphia?” she said coquettishly.

Carrie laughed, glad to have some humor to lighten the atmosphere, but her thoughts were heavy. “I thought when the war ended that life would be easier,” she said somberly. She felt the others’ eyes on her, but the room remained quiet as they gave her time to express her feelings. Instead of continuing, she just shook her head, understanding flooding into her. “I’ve learned enough to know life will always be full of challenges. I wish it wasn’t so, but wishing won’t change reality. I’m proud of Matthew for using the riot to open people’s eyes to needed change. I’m proud the city of New York has stepped forward to make life better for everyone because of the threat of cholera. I’m glad women are stepping up to fight for their rights, not allowing antiquated beliefs to mandate the future.”

A bell in the distance broke into her thoughts. “And now it’s time for breakfast,” she proclaimed, turning toward the door. “We’ll read Peter’s article later. Right now we have to go change the world for women!”

The room emptied quickly. Abby slid up to Carrie and slipped her arm around her waist. “I’m very proud of you,” she said softly.

Carrie didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “I think I might be growing up,” she said lightly.

“I’d say you are already quite grown up,” Abby responded, squeezing her tightly. “Now you are simply becoming a wise woman.”

Janie shivered as she entered the Church of the Puritans in Union Square. Everywhere she looked she saw women with strong faces full of purpose. Most of them were in small groups, talking animatedly as the building filled. She could feel the power reaching out to her. The energy was both encouraging and challenging. Just standing in the same room made her proud to be a woman.

Carrie leaned in closer as they moved toward their seats. “I can feel it too,” she whispered excitedly.

Alice, Elizabeth, and Florence had stopped to talk to family friends, but Janie had promised to save them a seat. Her head swiveled as she stared at all the women, wishing she could talk to them and learn their stories. She wondered how many had suffered from abusive husbands, how many had lost opportunities because men didn’t believe they were capable. She wanted so much to know what had made them decide to swim against the tide of society, inviting ridicule and humiliation for their efforts.

Carrie grabbed her arm. “Abby is waving at us. I think she wants us to meet someone.”

“Go ahead,” Janie replied. “I’ll save the seats.”

“No,” Carrie said firmly. “We’ll put our bags and notebooks down on the seats and then go over. Whoever she wants us to meet, I want you to meet her too.”

Janie nodded slowly, suddenly realizing how far she still had to go. There was nothing she wanted more than to meet whomever Abby was talking to, but she had been so quick to decide she wasn’t worthy of doing more than saving a seat for everyone. A sudden vision of Clifford’s angry face rose in her mind, but she just as quickly banished it. She had taken back control of her life. Now she just had to live like she had. “Let’s go,” she said firmly.

Moments later, she and Carrie were approaching Abby. Janie’s eyes widened as they drew closer.

Abby smiled, pulling both of them forward by grabbing their hands. “Elizabeth, these are the two women I was telling you about. Carrie is my stepdaughter, and this is Janie Winthrop Saunders. Both of them are students at the Women’s Medical College in Philadelphia.”