Vivian Schurfranz - Laura

Laura gazed around with a sense of nostalgia. In a few weeks the amendment she and others had worked for so hard would pass, and their work would be finished. She would miss this yellow room, bedecked with flowers, humming with good conversation and good fellowship. Would this national headquarters mansion still be retained, or would everything be dismantled? She hoped the women would stay together and implement their gains. Laura enjoyed this company of women and the closeness that had developed within these walls.

"Hello, Laura," said Opal Zacks, standing by a chair. "May I join you?"

"Oh, please sit down," Laura said enthusiastically, smiling at her lawyer-benefactor, who had obtained her release from prison sooner than any of the other suffragists.

The pleasant woman, her large hazel eyes bright with intelligence, studied Laura. "Well, your stint in prison didn’t hurt your appearance, that’s for sure. You look positively ravishing this afternoon," she said with a broad smile.

Laura said, "I can’t tell you how much I appreciated your help in getting me discharged. It means a lot to be able to finish my junior year."

"Glad to do it! You’ve been a good worker for the organization." Opal ran her fingers through her curly hair. "Now we have another big job ahead of us."

"I know," Laura answered. "The Senate vote, right?" She grimly pressed her lips together.

"The Senate vote," echoed Opal. "But we’ll win, Laura — without a doubt, we’ll win!" She laughed, showing prominent white teeth, all the whiter against her brown suit, the same color as her chestnut-brown hair.

Her positive attitude was reassuring. "I hope you’re right," Laura said, then suddenly asked, "Is it difficult being a lawyer?"

"You should qualify that question, Laura. Is it difficult being a woman lawyer?" She pondered her answer, moving her shoulders in her lightweight summer suit. "At times it’s not easy, and I’ve had to prove myself more than once in the courtroom, but when male attorneys see that I’m competent, efficient, and quite sane, they relax and treat me as one of them." She paused. "What do you intend to study in college, Laura?"

"I’m not certain, but I think I’d like to do something that would help women."

"That’s a girl! Why not become a lawyer?" she asked half-teasing, half-serious.

Laura shook her head. "I don’t know. I just don’t know. This experience with Miss Paul and then being thrown in jail have made me grow up, but I still haven’t hit upon a career. How long have you been a lawyer for the suffragists?"

"Ever since 1913, the day before Wilson’s inauguration, when Alice Paul organized almost ten thousand women to march down Pennnsylvania Avenue without any police protection." Opal chuckled low in her throat. "That was an experience and took all the nerve I could muster. We had to fight our way through unruly mobs and hecklers all along the way. It was hard to keep our dignity and keep in military formation, but we did," she said proudly. "The mobs were so unruly that the Secretary of War was forced to call out the troops from Fort Meyer." Her eyes had sparks of fire in them.

"I wish I could have been there," Laura said.

"Oh, it was a sight to see! Bands playing and yellow banners everywhere. Huge contingents of women had come from all over the country and held their state flags high." She sobered. "From that day forward Wilson realized we were a force to reckon with!"

Laura’s eyes shone. "You must be so proud of your accomplishments!"

"Oh, I am. I worked hard for my law degree, and so far I’ve put it to good use. Let’s hope I can continue to be successful in helping women, because there’s a long struggle ahead of us, even if the amendment passes. You can rely on that!"

Laura watched Opal as she left, wondering how her father would feel about her becoming a lawyer.

As Laura brought a replacement for a torn banner to one of the pickets, she paused, for coming through the White House gates was the President’s large black limousine.

Inside she glimpsed the President and his wife. As the sober-faced leader passed by he lifted his top hat in her direction. Stunned, Laura held up her hand, not knowing whether to wave or salute. The president replaced his hat atop his thinning gray hair. His glasses caught the glint of the late-afternoon sun, and a brief smile flitted across his long face. His wife, partially hidden by a black ostrich-plumed hat, lifted her head, but all Laura could see was a vivid splash of crimson across her lips.

Suddenly the president tapped the driver’s shoulder, and the car ground to a halt. He rolled down the window and shouted, "Don’t give up hope!"

Laura stood with her mouth agape. "Thank you, Mr. President," she at last was able to gasp as his car picked up speed and circled out of sight.

"Don’t give up hope," she whispered. The President of the United States had actually stopped to speak to her!

She was still thinking of the President when she arrived home and entered the front door. The quietness after the hustle and bustle of the mansion was quite a contrast. Where was everyone? Surely her mother and Sarah were home by now.

"Laura?"

Startled to hear her name called from the darkened parlor, she hastened to switch on the lights.

Mrs. Mitchell hastily blew her nose, then stuck her hanky in her pocket.

Small fingers of alarm danced across her spine. Laura asked, "What’s wrong?"

"It’s Sarah…" Maude paused to compose herself. "Frank has been killed in action." She drew forth the handkerchief once again.

"Frank?" she repeated dully. "Frank is dead?"

"We just received the letter from the State Department." A tear ran down Maude’s cheek. "Nothing I say comforts Sarah. I wish I could do something to help her."

"Oh, Mother." Laura ran to her, falling to her knees and hugging her. "Not Frank. What happened?"

"The letter was brief. They said his plane had been shot down over German soil."

Laura, crying softly, lay her head in her mother’s lap. Good, decent Frank, she thought. Good, decent Sarah. Life was so harsh!

Maude smoothed Laura’s hair and said in a choked voice, "Go up and see what you can do to console her."

"I’ll do what I can." She wiped her eyes and, with leaden feet, ascended the steps. How could she say words to help Sarah when there weren’t any? Frank was dead. There were no words that would change that.

Slowly swinging Sarah’s door open, Laura stood quietly, observing her sister’s prostrate form across the bed. In her hand she clutched a letter edged in black.

"Sarah, Mother just told me."

Sarah sat up, and when she saw Laura, she jumped up and the two sisters embraced. "I can’t believe it, Laura. I just received a letter from him yesterday. He talked about our wedding…." She began weeping, and unable to continue, she turned and stared out the window.

"I know, I’m so sorry," Laura said softly. She put her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. "It’s hard to understand why these things happen. But Frank was fighting for a safer world." She knew her words had a hollow ring to them, but she didn’t know what else to say. "You know there’s hope for a better tomorrow." She hesitated and patted Sarah’s back. "I just saw the President tonight, and his very words were Don’t give up hope!"

Sarah wheeled on Laura. "Don’t give up hope!" she lashed out angrily. "What did Wilson say that for? Did you have your stupid Votes-For-Women sash on? Hope for the suffragists? How does that relate to Frank? The suffragists! I’m sick to death of them. I hate the suffragists! They’ve done nothing to help the war, and now," she said, sobbing, "my poor Frank is gone forever."

Stunned, Laura moved back, stumbling against a chair and sinking down into it. Did her sister despise her and the suffragists that much? She couldn’t breathe but could only stare at Sarah’s furious face.