by Jim Wetton
Lizzy tilted her parasol towards the sun to block the rays from her face. She turned towards her brother seated next to her on the bench. In front of them, the large dome of the Capitol loomed skyward as people of all makes and colors scattered about.
“Didn’t know much about Garret Hobart, but I guess he did OK. Too bad he didn’t make it through a full term, but I guess it wasn’t in the cards for him, right?”
“It was odd, but I tried to get in to see the man just before he died,” Lizzy replied. “Some of the women suggested I first go to the vice president with our requests before trying to plant a seed with President McKinley. Now, there’s no one to go to.”
They sat in silence as people passed by. A couple pushed a stroller and talked about their exhaustion from lack of sleep. A young boy raced past in his dire attempt to catch his puppy. An elderly man, hunched over at the waist and with a cane in one hand, nodded to them with a gentle smile. But it was the group of three men that captured their attention. One man, obese and wearing a suit that was far too small for his build spoke the loudest. He was trying to convince the other two that women had no place other than inside their kitchen tending to their “youngins.” The smaller man with a dark black derby hat and pock marks on his face agreed as they both looked to the third for a full concession. The third man, tall and skinny with a large nose and pointy eyes was not in agreement. Their voices grew faint the farther they walked away and soon Johnny Russell turned his attention back to Lizzy.
“That one gentlemen, the fat one, he sounds a lot like how you’ve been describing your son. Not that your son is fat by any means, but it seems your son’s view on women’s rights is the norm and you’re swimming upstream with that other gent, the one that looked like a skeleton in men’s clothes.”
“You’re terrible, Johnny Russell!” Lizzy laughed as she slapped his arm. “What happened to my sweet little brother who couldn’t hurt a mouse?”
“He grew up, Sis. He grew up.”
Lizzy frowned at the distant look in his eyes. He’d told her of the things he’d seen, the places he’d been but something still ate at him and she didn’t know exactly what. All she really knew was that he now wrote for a liberal newspaper in San Francisco. She even knew what his upcoming article was going to be titled: “The Current Affairs of Today’s Women from a Sister’s Voice.”
“So, tell me more about your lectures,” Johnny Russell blurted out unexpectantly as he turned his whole body to face her. “I’m dying to get some meat into my article, something that will absolutely floor my editors.”
Lizzy described the venues she’d be speaking at but became distracted by a man rapidly approaching them. If they hadn’t known better, the man was walking directly towards them, and for what purpose neither Lizzy nor Johnny Russell had a clue. She reached out for Johnny Russell’s arm as the man quickly walked across the grassy area between them and the grounds of the Capitol. He was stout, yet solidly built. His neck was large and muscular and though he wore a coat, the buttons were undone and it flapped in the wind as he walked. He held one hand in his pocket while the other held his derby hat in place. As he came within speaking distance, he veered to his right and kept walking only to stop just past them, look back, and stare at the two. Johnny Russell began to stand, but as he did, the man turned back around and briskly walked away.
“That was odd,” Lizzy exhaled loudly. “Then again, this is Washington, D.C.!”
“Yes, and you can have it, Sis. Once I finish this next article, this old boy’s going back to the prairie where he belongs.”
The thought of finally finding her little brother and now hearing his wish to leave her brought a knot to Lizzy’s stomach. “I hope you’ll reconsider. We have so much to catch up on.” Lizzy’s voice stirred with panic.
The smile from Johnny Russell calmed her nerves as he reached for her hand and held it tight. “Not going anywhere for a while, Sis.” He patted her hand before continuing. “This article will probably take me to the next and then to the next until you get what it is you and so many women are searching for. No, no need to fret; I’m not going anywhere. You and me, Sis. You, with your voice and lectures and me, with my pen and paper, we’re going to make this suffrage thing a reality if it’s the last thing I do.”
The gunfire exploded in Lizzy’s ears. She felt wetness splatter across her face but it was the weight of Johnny Russell’s body that caused her to fall from the bench. On the ground, on all fours, Lizzy was dazed and she violently shook her head to clear it. Her ears rang loud. She shook her head again. She stared down at the concrete below her; it too, was splattered in red.
She couldn’t think.
She began to hear screaming and sensed others around her. She felt an arm wrapped around her middle as she was pulled away. The ringing in her ears continued. She still had no idea what was happening. Her face felt moist. She looked down at her dress and saw it drenched in blood.
She panicked.
Her hands flung all about her. She tried to feel for the bullet hole, someplace on her that would’ve caused so much blood. She felt herself being guided down on the grass while the crowd around her continued to grow. Oh God, how bad is it? So much blood!
Shouts grew louder. Orders were screamed out.
She tried to look up and could only see mayhem all around her. She tried to think. Martin? No, he’s not here, Lizzy. She shook her head and pushed her two hands against both ears to somehow make them stop ringing. She could see across the path that a crowd of people had gathered. She tried to see but there were too many people. She began to crawl but became tangled in her dress. She felt determined to get across the pathway, back to the bench. Her hands felt slippery wet. Everything she grasped for slipped away from her.
“Oh, come on, for Christ’s sake!”
She put her head down and willed her way forward.
Oh, dear God, please, please, PLEASE! Panic overcame her and she screamed, “Johnny Russell!”
Her arms flung against anyone trying to help. She pulled herself up and grabbed onto the back of the bench with one hand, leaving a bloody handprint in her wake. She used her other hand to wipe away the wet, sticky hair from her blood-stained face.
She strained her neck up and looked down as vomit began to rise in her throat.
“No!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A New Term for Hope
1901
It was hot. Lizzy always scolded herself for living in D.C. during the summer. Hot and humid was the weather; short tempered and irritable were the people.
A lot had transpired since that horrific day when Johnny Russell had been killed. Once the investigation had completed, it was discovered that it was a sole individual who had committed the crime. Lizzy would always remember the man’s glare, especially the one he gave them as he stopped to look back. The police had found the same man sitting against a tree beside the Potomac Basin, a gunshot to his own head. The only motive they could find was from a note in the pocket of his jacket:
Damn the Suffragists. Damn the Suffragists.
It took Lizzy several months to begin to relieve the guilt she had placed upon her shoulders. She was convinced that she was the target, not her little brother. He’d been gone so long. Believed to be dead by all accounts. But it was Lizzy who had kept her own hopes alive, yet, as soon as she’d found him again, alive and well, he was all too quickly taken away from her.
Now again, as she’d told herself far too often lately, she had to move on. So much trauma to those so innocent. But life has to go on until the good Lord decides that enough is enough.
“Oh, hell, that sure sounds like a bunch of hogwash, Lizzy, and you know it!”
As frustrated as she was, on this muggy mid-July day, Lizzy sat suspended in tension. One side of her wanted to give up before anyone else got her hurt, and the other side pushed her on to fulfill Hannah’s dreams. She’d been toying with an idea of hers and after nights of sleeplessness, she was determined to st
ate her case to a man whom she’d only read about, but never met. To her, he was the young whippersnapper that her son-in-law made fun of. He was the adventurous soldier that most envied. But to Lizzy, he was the first step to someone in power who would actually listen to her.
* * * *
“Ma’am, the vice president will see you now.”
The introductions were simple. He had his secretaries all around him. She had only herself. She was surprised at how small he was. He wore a pair of glasses that fit snug against his rather large nose and sported a mustache that was in dire need of a trim. His New York accent was noticeable but, other than that, he seemed quite down to earth, to use Lizzy’s brother’s terms.
“Mrs. McKeever, please do sit.”
Lizzy looked around the room. Her eyes grew larger and larger the more she canvassed the walls. Its lavish decorations were surprisingly odd compared to her expectations. Above the doorway was the mount of a boar from Africa. To her left was mounted the head of a tiger from South America. To her right hung the head of a deer with its antlers proudly on display. In front of her, the vice president stood, his head held high and his hand stretched out to welcome Lizzy with his now-widely known smile.
“I’ve heard so much about your movement and, between you and me, I do believe we can become the best of friends; yes, I do!”
Lizzy cautiously smiled and nodded, “Thank you, Mr. Vice, uh. . . .”
“Oh, fiddle dee, my dear lady; if we are to become friends, you’ll just have to get used to calling me Teddy. Just plain ol’ Teddy.”
Lizzy didn’t know if she should shout for joy or get out while she could still stand.
“Please, Mrs. McKeever, please have a seat and don’t fret over my odd trophies glaring down at you. Trust me, they are quite harmless . . . well, at least they are now!”
Roosevelt burst into a boisterous laugh as he took a seat behind his desk. Lizzy noticed how tiny and unassuming he looked behind such a massive desk. The desktop was littered with papers, some signed, some not. Behind where she now sat were a couch and two chairs, all upholstered in beautiful velvet. Against the wall to her left chimed a large grandfather clock, its chimes loud but pleasing to her ears. On the wall behind Roosevelt hung a large picture. In it were a group of men, some on horseback, some standing and a few seated. Roosevelt stood out in the picture with his broad, but mischievous smile.
“Like the photo of my boys, do ya? That was some outfit, I do tell you. They’d follow me into hell and back if I’d ever ask them to. They called us ‘Rough Riders’ but I just like calling them ‘my boys.’ May I offer you anything, Mrs. McKeever?”
“Oh no, but thank you, Mr. . . .”
“Now, come on!”
“I’m sorry; no, thank you . . . Teddy.”
“My daughter Alice is quite vocal on the same matters that you’re involved in, Mrs. McKeever; so I do have to admit I’ve been keeping up with it. And I’m sure much more than the usual yahoo down on the streets. If you’d ask me, ma’am, it’s just too much pride and too much male ego in this blasted country. We need to move on and look to our future, not stay stuck in the days of our forefathers . . . you agree?”
“Well now that you say it like that, yes, I definitely agree.” Lizzy’s tone showed signs of growing confidence. She’d taken an immediate liking to the vice president and she felt he thought likewise of her.
“Keep in mind, Mrs. McKeever; it isn’t on the top of President McKinley’s agenda but again, between you and me, it needs to be. Those in certain powerful positions would just as soon keep me still and quiet in this little vice president’s office until the day that I just simply go away quietly. Yes ma’am, those are the same people that were getting tired of me making all kinds of waves in the police department and then at the state level and so on. They thought, what better way to shut me up, right? Nothing comes out of the vice president except afternoon teas and ribbon cuttings, right? I’m OK with that for now, but you just wait. Don’t get me wrong. McKinley is a fine lad. A bully of a politician and I know that he’s not going anywhere for a long time. I’ll take it slow at first, but he’ll begin to hear me and when the two of us get going, well, you just watch out.”
Lizzy politely joined in with the man’s laughter, thinking how odd it was that he spoke so much about himself. Especially coming from, as he put it, just a vice president.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, ma’am. I’m as dedicated to him as anyone. I really do believe in what he wants to achieve. I’m just—what would you call it?—just a bit more progressive then he is, but that’s OK; I’ll bend his ear enough for him to come around to my way of thinking.”
Lizzy smiled politely at him.
“Yes, ma’am, I plan to play a bully of a game with the old man and—who knows?—maybe someday you’ll read that little ol’ four-eyed Roosevelt made himself president of these United States!”
* * * *
Later, Lizzy would smile at her memories of Roosevelt’s jokes after spending far more time with the vice president then she’d ever hoped for. She was pleased not only for the content in which they’d spoken, but also for the relationship which they’d begun.
On her travels back to her little home, she did her best to gather her thoughts. How did she present herself? What impression did she make on the vice president? What were her future possibilities and would she ever get the opportunity to have the same meeting with the president himself?
As positive as all of her thoughts were, she still questioned the odds of her success. Still second guessing herself on everything from how she dressed to her silly comments about some wild beast on the vice president’s wall, Lizzy was next taken aback by the letter she’d retrieved from her mailbox, a letter she’d been hoping for but had for the moment given up on.
As she closed the door behind her, she tossed her belongings onto the table in the dining room and kicked off her shoes before leaning back in her oversized chair, the one closest to the lamp.
She took a deep breath in and sent a silent prayer before opening the letter.
Dear Mother,
I was so distraught to hear about your encounter this past spring. It must have been heartbreaking to finally reconnect with Uncle Johnny Russell and lose him all over again. I understand that the suspect wasn’t much of a suffragist sympathizer, but he had to have a loose screw to pull something like that off. I’m just so thankful that you weren’t hurt. You know my views about this movement, but to take one’s opposition to that level of violence is cowardly at best.
California is getting closer to passing its own legislation giving the right to vote to women. I’ve been fighting against it and though we don’t need to get into that anymore, it’s just not a place for a woman. I let Caroline out of the house from time to time, but she is never allowed to attend any of those sacrilegious meetings or to listen to any of that garbage of women’s rights. She is my wife. She is the mother of our children. Yes, our two children.
You should see them, Mother. Two boys. John is three and Andrew just turned one. Caroline is a wonderful mother and never neglects her duties or her attention to me. I’m so blessed to have such a wonderful and dutiful wife as her.
On the career front, I’ve been battling with the city on the lack of proper infrastructure, especially down at the waterfront. Our police department lacks training and supplies. Our fire department is a joke. We have a bay of water, yet we don’t have the equipment or process in place to use it. I’m telling you, if we are hit with any crisis, we will be a sitting duck. I’ve compared our city to that of Chicago in ’71, but no one will listen. They joke with me that we haven’t any cows, nor anyone with the name O’Leary in San Francisco, so why worry? Joke or no joke, who knows? It may just take our entire city to burn down for the bureaucrats to finally wake up.
I know that you and I are on opposite sides of the women’s suffragist movement. I want you to know that it will never affect the way I feel abou
t you. You are my mother, but your ideals are wrong. You are always welcome to visit and to see your grandsons, and someday, I hope you can do just that. Caroline would be delighted to have another woman in the house now that she has a house full of men. I can’t tell you how happy we all are. The boys continue to grow and Caroline continues to tend to our needs. I’ve suggested she join a knitting club but she continues to decline. The way she puts it, she has her hands full right at home, which is fine for me and the boys. Just thinking of her.
Be well, Mother, be well.
With deep admiration, your son,
William
Lizzy lowered the hand which held the pages to William’s letter. She raised the other to feel her cheeks which were fiery hot. Her eyes ached and she knew that the vein in her neck was throbbing.
“Dammit all to hell!”
* * * *
The Potomac flowed swiftly by as Lizzy eyed Arlington across the way. She had followed her path towards the Basin but eyed a quiet spot next to the river to read William’s letter again. She hadn’t seen any benches so she found a patch of grass and knelt down gently before resting herself completely on its cool surface. She had brought a parasol and a fan but she’d placed them on the ground next to her. The shade from a large elm gave ample relief from the sun and the breeze coming off the Potomac eased the stifling early September heat.
“He is not my son!” Lizzy shouted out again. “I disown him!”
Lizzy looked over her shoulder at a young couple with two small children. The toddler was in the mother’s arms and the older sibling was chasing a butterfly. When she looked again, they had all turned around and were running away from where Lizzy sat with the letter gripped tightly in her hand.
“Don’t worry, I’m not crazy; just have a crazy son.!” She chuckled to herself at the sight of the father looking back at her, the young son complaining that he didn’t get a chance to catch the butterfly.
How many others feel the way William does? How long is this going to take to change the way people think? Months? Years? Will I see it in my lifetime?