History That Doesn't Suck - 119: Women’s Suffrage & the Passage of the 19th Amendment

Episode Date: September 12, 2022

“President Wilson, how long must we wait for liberty?” This is the story of women’s suffrage.  According to the legal doctrine of coverture, a married woman is “covered” by her husband. Legally, economically, politically—she largely ceases to exist. Yet, does widowed colonial Lydia Taft get to vote? And why does Revolutionary New Jersey buck the system, specifically writing a voting law that describes voters as “he or she,” then later disenfranchise women? Decades pass, but the idea of women’s suffrage is resurrected. Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Sojourner Truth, Alice Stone, and staunch male supporters, like Henry Blackwell and Frederick Douglass, fight for it. But relationships fray as other women, anti-suffragists, fight against women’s suffrage.  Entering the twenty-first century women picket, march, face forced feedings, and endure abuse; in one case, a beloved suffragist dies. But their sacrifices won’t be in vain. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Red One... We're coming at you. ...is the movie event of the holiday season. Santa Claus has been kidnapped? You're gonna help us find him. You can't trust this guy. He's on the list. Is that Naughty Lister? Naughty Lister?

Dwayne Johnson. We got snowmen! Chris Evans. I might just go back to the car. Let's save Christmas. I'm not gonna say that. Say it. Alright.

Let's save Christmas. There it is. Only in theaters November 15th. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had. But once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now

than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. It's Saturday afternoon, March 25th, 1911. We're at the corner of Washington Place and Green Street in New York City's Greenwich Village, on the 8th floor of the Ash Building,

where employees of the Triangle Shirtwaist Company are busily cranking out their namesake product, the ever-popular, simple yet professional button-down women's blouse, known as the shirtwaist. This is no small enterprise. Occupying all three of the 10-story Ash Building's blouse, known as the shirtwaist. This is no small enterprise. Occupying all three of the 10-story ash buildings' top floors, the Triangle Shirtwaist Company boasts 500-plus workers. Most are recent Ellis Island arrivals, so heavily Italian and Jewish, and almost entirely female. Yes, as we look across the open workspace of the eighth floor, at the rows of tightly packed and humming sewing machines and the seven long, cloth-covered cutting tables,

it's predominantly women and teenage girls that are making everything here operate. It's now 4.40pm, about time to close up shop. Workers are grabbing their hats and coats and preparing to descend at least eight if not all ten floors to head home. Oh, and it's a Saturday night. Nothing more euphoric than knowing they have the day off tomorrow. But just as that end of the work week relief is starting to set in among the eighth floor's workers, a terrifying one-word cry echoes across the room. Samuel Bernstein flies into action. The short, stocky foreman grabs the red pails kept for such emergencies. He and others immediately douse the flames.

But that doesn't do it. They've got to move quickly then. This floor has over 9,000 square feet covered with highly flammable cotton. There isn't a moment to lose. Each floor's stairwell has a hose. Samuel yells across the floor to shipping clerk Louis Senderman. Louis, get me the hose as quickly as you can. The hose is brought out as Louis turns the spigot.

But no water comes. Oh God. It's soon clear that there's no fighting this fire. Samuel yells to all to leave their things and get out. Everyone flies to the exits. Opening the door to the green street stairway, the women find fire and smoke. They pivot to the other door, the one whose stairway goes to Washington Place. It won't open. Is it locked? Company owners Max Blank and Isaac Harris do take such measures to guard against employees stealing materials or taking

unscheduled breaks. Or is it that, amid the fear of burning to death, the crowd is simply pressing too firmly against these inward-opening doors for them to be opened? The company's top machinist, Louis Brown, forces his way through. He pulls out a key. Does he actually use it? We don't know for sure, but he gets the door open and women fly down the winding staircase. But it's so narrow, few can descend at once. Many will die if they can't find another way out. There are the elevators, and thankfully, some elevator operators, like 27-year-old Italian immigrant Joseph Zito,

are braving the flames and heat to make as many trips as possible. Maximum occupancy is 10, but amid the sight of women on fire, Joseph crams about 40 survivors in his last trip. Descending, he hears repeated crashes from above. Joseph realizes women are jumping down the elevator shaft. He's hearing women die as their bodies slam into the elevator roof. Good God.

Others clamber down the fire escape on the building's exterior. It doesn't even come close to reaching the ground, and it feels flimsy. So the first few break a window and re-enter the building on the sixth floor. Those behind them aren't so locked up. The fire escape pulls free from the building itself. Women plunge to their deaths. Spectators fill the streets below. They stare up in horror at the ash building,

at the hot glow and thick smoke spewing from its windows, at the sight of women and girls filled with despair, dangling from the eighth story's windows. The people scream up to them, Don't jump! Help is coming! But the heat is so intense. Some do. They crash lifelessly onto the sidewalk below.

Only minutes later, firefighters arrive. Maneuvering around bodies on the ground, they crank their ladders into the sky. But they're too short. These ladders were made for normal six-story buildings, not these new steel-beamed skyscrapers. The firefighters find the same problem with their hoses, which can't spray past the seventh floor. Damn it!

Undaunted, our rescuers turn to their nets. They've never caught someone from such heights, but they've got to try. A woman jumps to them. She strikes with such force, the net rips right through the fireman's hands. Giving no thought to their now lacerated, bloodied palms, the firefighters take up their nets to keep trying. But it won't work. With no hope of survival, women and girls fall like rain from the top floors.

Some tumble head over feet. Some flame like human torches. All splatter on the street. And some take one last measure of human comfort and friendship. They hold their sister, their mother, a friend, and jump together to their united and certain end. The blaze is soon under control, but it's too late. Some 80 bodies lie broken in the streets, a score fill the elevator shafts, and 50 women and teenage girls are dead. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Music The gut-wrenching, macabre scene at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fills New Yorkers with outrage. Particularly as they recall these women had recently gone on strike over unsafe working conditions. They were largely ignored. Now, they're dead. While much of the outcry focuses on workplace regulations, some come to a different conclusion. They become convinced that American women need the ability to fight for themselves at the ballot box. And that brings us to how we pivot to today's

tale. The long, winding path to women's suffrage. To do it justice, we're starting back in colonial America. We'll learn what legal rights women hold in the colonies, meet one colonial woman who allegedly does vote, and check out revolutionary New Jersey, where women are in fact voting. But here, the long path to women's suffrage starts to wind. New Jersey disenfranchises women and, decades later, will bear witness as Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Sojourner Truth, and others reignite the idea of women's suffrage. Entering the late 19th century, we'll find the Western territories and states enfranchising and even electing women.

Yet, across the nation, we'll also meet ladies who are leading the charge against women's suffrage. But finally, in the 20th century, a rising generation of British-influenced, marching, protesting, hunger-striking suffragists will come to the fore. This and more will eventually lead us to a constitutional amendment guaranteeing women the vote at the national level. I told you it's a long path. So, shall we begin? Very good. Then it's time to leave progressive-era New York and revisit colonial Massachusetts. Rewind.

It's October 30th, 1756, and the small New England village of Uxbridge is in the midst of a town meeting. The issue before them stems from the same problem currently plaguing all of British North America, the French and Indian War, a.k.a. the Seven Years' War. For two years, this contest between the empires of France, Britain, and their respective indigenous allies has raged primarily in the Ohio country. But now, the province of Massachusetts Bay is asking Uxbridge for funds to help with the war effort. That request is what brings today's deliberations and soon will require a vote from the town's landholding men.

But before these gents voice their will, a point is raised. What about the Taft family? Captain Josiah Taft isn't here. A sickness took the former militia captain to the grave last month. God rest his soul. Worse yet, he caught it from his 18-year-old son, Caleb, who fell ill and died at Harvard College only a week or two prior. God rest both their souls. Thus, the Taft family lacks an adult male, yet, as one of the wealthiest landowners in Uxbridge, will bear much of the burden if the town approves the tax.

And that wouldn't be right, since everyone in British North America knows that taxation is a gift from the people, or, as one slogan will later put it, no taxation without representation. Sounds like there's only one answer. Josiah's widow, Lydia, must speak for her family. The landholders vote. With the crucial support of Lydia, the tax barely passes. The 44-year-old widow just became the first woman ever to cast a vote in what will become the United States of America.

Or so the story goes. Historians will later debate whether Lydia really voted or not. But big if true, and besides, how awesome that we had a reason to mention the Seven Years' War more than 100 episodes into this podcast. Joking aside, Lydia's story sets up an excellent question. Could this happen given the legal status of women in British North America? Let's figure that out. In these last decades before the revolution, colonies more or less run with England's common law. In brief, this means legal decisions by judges set legal precedents

that influence future interpretations of the law. Okay, check. Well, within this body of precedents is the doctrine of coverture. Derived from the French word couverture, which means to cover, coverture means husbands cover, conceal, or absorb their wives in a legal sense. As 18th century England's great legal thinker, Sir William Blackstone, puts it, By marriage, the husband and wife are one person in law. That is, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, the husband and wife are one person-in-law. That is, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband. Ah, thus, legally, economically, and politically speaking, the wife's individual

identity disappears. But what about an unmarried woman? Sticking with French, common law designates her as femme sole, not covered by a man. These sole or single women can own some property, make contracts, own businesses, but they do not vote. Not even those who are widows. In fact, when a man dies, the land that would trigger voting rights, the estate, doesn't transfer to his widow, but to an heir, a son. Ah, but in Lydia's case, her 18-year-old adult son Caleb has just died. So is that sufficient cause for us to believe Lydia voted? To riff off of historian J.L. Bell's analysis, it's not beyond the pale that, in this context, the townsmen may have let wealthy, elite Lydia weigh in.

But Bell has his doubts, and I do too. The split vote that makes her the decision maker feels a little too fairytale-esque for a historic event that's first written record appears more than a century later, in 1864, at the hand of a Taft family descendant, no less. Further, while her son Caleb is dead, what about her older boy, 23-year-old Josiah Jr.? So, again, did the men of Uxbridge make the extraordinary decision to let newly widowed and thus found sole Lydia vote? Well, I don't know if it's as out there as a certain cherry tree tale from Mount Vernon,

but I'm uncomfortable calling it fact. But feel free to stew on that a bit yourself. We do have other documented pre-United States steps towards women's rights though, and the most famous comes from Abigail Adams. We touched on this in episode 8, but here's a refresher. In early 1776, America's original power couple, John and Abigail Adams, are states apart. John's fighting the good fight for the independence vote in Philadelphia. Abigail is holding down the fort in war-torn Massachusetts. Thus, they're communicating through letters. But when John writes about independence and a new nation, which Abigail loves, she makes a revolutionary suggestion of her own, replying on March 31st.

And by the way, in the new code of laws, which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make, I desire you would remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power in the hands of the husbands. Remember all men would be tyrants if they could.

If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation. Many historians question whether Abigail is talking about women's suffrage. The vast majority of people, women included, don't have women's suffrage on their radar yet. Hence, suggestions that this may be

more of a call for greater rights and other protections sorely lacking within the doctrine of coverture. But whatever her intention, John's response shows that he doesn't take this seriously. With a tongue-in-cheek tone, he replies that wives are already the real masters, not the husbands, and therefore, quote,

we know better than to repeal our masculine systems, which would completely subject us to the despotism of the petticoat, close quote. And yet, the spirit of 76 is producing women's suffrage in one state. On July 2nd, 1776, the very same day the Continental Congress votes in favor of independence, New Jersey becomes the fourth state to establish its own independent from Britain constitution. Its fourth article describes voters as follows,

quote, that all inhabitants of this colony of full age who are worth 50 pounds proclamation money, clear a state in the same, shall be entitled to vote for representatives in council and assembly. Close quote. Hmm. Inhabitants is a gender neutral word. And while the masculine pronoun he is all over this document, it's excluded from this article on voting, which uses they. Now, the article does have a property requirement, which likely excludes married women subject to coverture, but the wording still opens the door for the single woman,

the femme sole. Is this intentional? Future historians will argue over it. Some will point out that several state constitutions use gender-neutral language. Neighboring Delaware likewise says inhabitants. Yet these states don't grant women the vote. While other historians disagree. They'll argue that under the logic of no taxation without representation, it only follows that, as the head of her household, a FOM Soul should vote, and some in revolutionary America surely see that. Whatever New Jersey's intentions in 1776, the state's 1790 law settles the question. It only applies to seven of New Jersey's 13 counties, all of which are heavily Quaker and Federalist. But while describing where a voter may ballot, the 1790 law says, and I quote,

he or she, close quote. Take that in for a second. In 1790, the New Jersey legislature unequivocally describes a potential voter not only as he, but with the word she. Seven years later, in 1797, New Jersey extends its clearly intentional women's suffrage to all 13 counties. It also ditches the words clear estate on the property requirement. So, does that mean all New Jersey women, regardless of marital status, have the vote? It sure sounds more justifiable in any case. The percentage of women voting dramatically increases,

and despite whatever doubts historians harbor about Abigail Adams' intentions when writing to John all those years ago, she welcomes the news, cheering her countrywomen in the Garden State. But why New Jersey? It's likely for the same reason free Blacks are voting here. Unlike other states that tend to be solidly Democratic-Republican or Federalist, the Garden State is split, and parties are happy to pick up any votes they can. It could be that Federalists ensured only women in their counties got the clear legal nod in 1790, while Republicans caught up with the method by 1797. But neither free Blacks nor women will have the vote for long here. Both become scapegoats for any irregularities in elections. This is especially true of Essex County's 1807 vote to decide whether Elizabeth

or Newark will become the new county seat. The voter fraud is so obvious, the New Jersey state legislature rejects it altogether. Then, in October of that same year, the state legislature does as many other states are presently doing. It limits the vote to quote, free white male citizens, close quote. Thus, as the door closes on black voters in various northern states, New Jersey, the lone American state that had enfranchised women amid the revolution, closes the door on both groups. Little movement or visible agitation for women's suffrage is seen for the next few decades, not until the 1830s. As you might recall from episode 40, this is a time when several social reform movements, like the abolition of slavery, the alcohol-limiting, if not ending, temperance

movement, and public education start to take off. With women at the forefront of much of this, these movements begin indirectly encouraging women's suffrage. For instance, when Kentucky establishes a school system in 1838, that same law also grants the state's rural, tax-paying, thumbs-souls the right to vote on issues related to taxation and education. But sometimes it's the negative experiences within these social movements that propel women's rights and suffrage. Specifically, I'm referring to the 1840 London-based World Anti-Slavery Convention. Even after Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott travel all the way across the Atlantic to be there, the men running the show vote to exclude women. Lucretia

and Lizzie are understandably furious, and that fury leads them to hold the United States' first-ever women's rights convention in 1848 at Seneca Falls, New York. I gave you the details on the Seneca Falls Convention in episode 40, but here's a quick refresher. Held at the Wesleyan Methodist Church in Seneca Falls, New York, the convention attracts roughly 300 attendees. Day two includes a few men, notably the powerful orator and self-emancipated abolitionist, Frederick Douglass. The convention votes to sign a document called a Declaration of Sentiments. It has a very Declaration of Independence vibe as it asserts that, quote, all men and women are created equal, close quote,

then continues with the list of injuries and usurpations, not inflicted by a king upon colonies, but by men upon women. The convention also votes on 11 accompanying resolutions. They fly through unanimously with the exception of the ninth, which makes the daring claim that women should have the right to vote. So, while many women are prepared to speak up for more rights than the doctrine of coverture currently affords them, calling for the vote, that feels too radical, even for them.

It's only with the hard lobbying of Elizabeth and Frederick that the Ninth Resolution passes. The Seneca Convention is a great success. It also starts a blossoming friendship between Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Frederick Douglass. There's a natural alignment between their causes after all. Both groups are seeking their civil rights.

But no one better illustrates this alignment than those who fall in both groups, Black American women. And one Black American woman is about to make a big splash in the public sphere. It's the morning of May 29th, 1851. We're in Akron, Ohio, attending the second day of a women's convention. A thin, 50-something black woman rises and addresses the audience. She says, in part, May I say a few words?

I want to say a few words about this matter. I am a woman's rights. She says, in part, And can any man do more than that? The poor men seem to be all in confusion and don't know what to do. Why, children, if you have woman's rights, give it to her and you will feel better. You will have your own rights and they won't be so much trouble. I can't read, but I can hear. I have heard the Bible and have learned that Eve caused man to sin. Well, if woman upset the world, do give her a chance to set it right side up again. And how came Jesus into the world? Through God who created him and woman who bore him.

Man, where is your part? But the women are coming up, blessed be God, and a few of the men are coming up with them. But man is in a tight place. The poor slave is on him, woman is coming on him, and he is surely between a hawk and a buzzard. Convention president Francis D. Gage will produce a different version of this speech during the Civil War. In Francis' account, the speaker, a formerly enslaved New Yorker named Sojourner Truth, somehow has a plantation dialect as she asks the audience, ain't I a woman?

Though likely less accurate, it's that version of Sojourner's speech that will make her famous. And so, the fight for civil rights advances, with leaders like Lizzie, Susan, and Frederick forging friendships and alliances between their sometimes overlapping groups. But soon, difficult choices, priorities, and prejudices will test the strength of this alliance, particularly in the aftermath of the Civil War. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards,

banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life.

Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. When Johan Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rall lost the Battle of Trent and died from two Colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there.

Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Chrysler. Every episode, we look at the bad ideas, mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at ConstantPodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's May 12th, 1869. More than 1,000 people, mostly women, are gathered in New York City's gorgeous new concert venue near Union Square, Steinway Hall. This is a meeting of the American Equal Rights Association. For three years, this organization has fought to enfranchise all American citizens, irrespective of race, color, or sex. But now, the yet-to-be-ratified 15th Amendment has led some, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton, to question if they should support this amendment while it excludes women.

She's used harsh words, recently asserting that women should certainly get the vote before, quote, Unwashed ditch diggers, black boots, butchers, and barbers, fresh from the plantations of the South. Close quote. So today, right now in fact, Stephen Foster is taking Lizzie to task, questioning her leadership in the organization. The two are arguing back and forth. It's quite the organization. The two are arguing back and forth. It's quite the spectacle.

Finally, the salt-and-peppered abolitionist Frederick Douglass has had enough. He rises to speak. There is no name greater than that of Elizabeth Cady Stanton in the matter of women's rights and equal rights, but my sentiments are tinged. I must say that I do not see how anyone can pretend that there is the same urgency in giving the ballot to a woman as to the Negro. With us, the matter is a question of life and death. When women, because they are women, are hunted down through the cities of New York and New Orleans, when they are dragged from their houses and hung from lampposts, when their children are torn from their arms and their brains dashed out upon the pavement, when they are objects of insult and rage at every turn,

when they are in danger of having their homes burnt down, then they will have an urgency to obtain the ballot equal to our own. A voice calls out from the crowd. Is that not true about black women? Frederick fires back. Yes, yes, yes. It is true of the black woman, but not because she is a woman, but because she is black. Standing up for her dear friend, Susan B. Anthony enters the fray. Mr. Douglas talks about the wrongs of the Negro, but with all the outrages that he today suffers, he would not exchange his sex and take the place of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. I want to know if granting you the right of suffrage will change the nature of our sexes. It will change the pecuniary position of woman. It will place her where she can earn her own bread.

The debate rages on. By the day's end, both groups feel betrayed by the other. The American Equal Rights Association collapses within the next year. This post-Civil War era, that is, the Reconstruction era, doesn't only end the alliance between Black leadership and women's suffrage leadership. It also splits the women's suffrage movement. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and her friend Susan B. Anthony take a hard line. Feeling betrayed, they establish the National Women's Suffrage Association, or the NWSA, which does not support the 15th Amendment. The NWSA focuses on federal action, seeking a constitutional amendment to enfranchise women. Meanwhile, less radical suffragists, like Lucy Stone and her husband, Henry Brown Blackburn, formed the American Women's Suffrage Association,

or the AWSA. This more moderate group includes men, supports the 15th Amendment, and focuses its attention on state-level action. I know, the names are similar, but if that's throwing you, just think of Major League Baseball. The MLB has the National and American Leagues, Women's Suffrage has the National and American Associations. Easy, right? Okay, now let's see how each association does. Early on, the more moderate AWSA's strategy seems more promising, particularly out west. In 1869, the same year of the organization's creation, the territory of Wyoming enfranchises women. In 1870, the territory further makes history when Wyoming resident Esther Hobart Morris becomes the first woman to serve as Justice of the Peace in the modern world.

That same year, the Utah Territorial Legislature votes unanimously to enfranchise women, which allows Utahan Seraph Young to become the first American woman to cast a ballot under a modern women's suffrage law. Many Americans are happy about women's suffrage in Utah. They assume that the territory's women will use the ballot box to strike out against the polygamous teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormon Church.

But they don't. As such, when Congress clamps down on Mormon polygamy in 1887 with the Edmunds-Tucker Act, it also strips the franchise from Utah women. This leads to a conundrum for the nation's suffragists. They want suffrage for Utah's non-Mormon women, certainly, but aren't so sure about Mormon women, who are now fierce advocates of suffrage and polygamy.

Yet, the uncomfortable work continues, and the question settles when, as we learned in the last episode, the Utah-dominant church officially ends polygamy in 1890. But ceasing to allow further polygamist unions doesn't end those marriages or families already in existence, which leads to a curious situation when Utah becomes a state and women's suffrage is restored in 1896. That same year, Martha Hughes Cannon, a Welsh immigrant, staunch suffragist, and polygamist Mormon, is elected to the new Utah state legislature. Thus, Martha, or Maddie as her friends call her, becomes the first American woman to serve

as a state senator. And among the candidates the polygamist woman's defeated is her own husband, Angus. As this unique drama plays out in Utah, women continue gaining the vote out West. There are a few reasons for this, but an overarching one is that these states are trying to attract more settlers, including women. Colorado enfranchises women in 1893,

while Idaho does so in 1896. Let's not get ahead of ourselves though. What's been going on back East, particularly with Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony's NWSA? During these same decades, the NWSA is focused on the national fight. Rather than seek a new amendment, though, Susan B. Anthony and others are first trying to argue that the 14th Amendment already grants women the right to vote.

It's true that this first of the Reconstruction Amendments speaks of male citizens in its essentially three-fifths compromise repealing Section 2. But looking to Section 1, the strong-jawed, bespectacled woman argues that the right to vote is inherent to the rights of citizenship. By this logic, members of the NWSA all over the country, including Susan herself, registered to vote in 1872, which, by the way, is the same year that Victoria Woodhull technically becomes the first woman to run for U.S. president. Susan even successfully votes in New York. She is promptly arrested and fined $100.

She never pays. The arrest garners national attention. Some laud Susan's resolve. Others mock her attempt and radicalism. Meanwhile, Missouri's Virginia Minor, who's led the charge on women trying to vote this year, sues when she's denied the vote. She and her supportive husband press the case all the way up to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1875. But the court isn't having it. SCOTUS rules in Minor v. Happersett that U.S. citizenship does not bestow the right of suffrage. The NWSA continues its national fight. In 1878, a women's suffrage constitutional amendment is even introduced in Congress.

But it's defeated, and frankly, neither of the two women's suffrage associations sees much movement in the next decade. Perhaps, then, it's time to reunite the fractured women's movement. Encouraged by a new generation of younger suffragists, the two associations' matriarchs buried their two-decade-old hatchet in 1890. The more moderate, states-oriented American Women's Suffrage Association, or the AWSA, and the more radical, amendment-focused National Women's Suffrage Association, or the NWSA, merged their names and ideas as the National American Women's Suffrage Association, or NASA. NASA will work the state and federal level.

As for the division first caused by the 15th Amendment, that's largely handled by ignoring the issues facing the Black community. As Jim Crow laws cut away at the Black male vote, NAWSA won't enter the fight. As in years before, Black women following in the steps of the now-deceased Sojourner Truth, like a young Ida B. Wells,

are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Elizabeth Cady Stanton serves as NOSA's first president. She does so more symbolically though, allowing her dear old friend Susan B. to drive the organization, which Susan will continue to do during her own presidency. But this healing reunion under these pioneering aging leaders

doesn't mean all is well for women's suffrage. Not when so many women still oppose it. You heard that correctly. From the days of Lydia Taft to those of Abigail Adams and on, the fight for women's suffrage hasn't only been against unsupportive men, but against unsupportive women. Elizabeth Cady Stanton complains of, quote, the contempt with which women themselves regard the movement, close quote.

At the time of the 19th Amendment's passage, future NAWSA president Carrie Chapman Catt will estimate that about one-third of women support suffrage, another third oppose it, while the last third is indifferent. Yet, even those figures will be an improvement. Right now, in the 1890s, there are arguably 15,000 organized suffragists across the whole United States. Compare that to 20,000 organized anti-suffragists in the state of New York alone. Wow. And sadly, the sister-against sister against sister fight is sometimes quite literal. Take, for instance, the Nathan sisters, Maude and Annie. Both are strong women from the same

Sephardic Jewish New York family, yet by the 1890s, they could not disagree more on women's suffrage. Maude speaks at pro-suffrage gatherings, addresses the state legislature, and attends international suffrage meetings, while her sister Annie, who's a founder of New York City's first liberal arts college for women, Barnard College, is publishing hundreds of letters to the editor criticizing the women's suffrage movement. The two elite New York sisters will publicly exchange verbal and written blows over suffrage for years to come. I know, from the 21st century viewpoint, this sounds nuts. How does an educated, smart, strong-willed woman like Annie not support women's suffrage?

Or to give another example, how does the brilliant muckraking reporter, the woman who took down the man John D. Rockefeller in episode 113, yes, Ida Tarbell, struggle with the idea of women's suffrage. Well, I can't speak perfectly for either of them, but we can get into the main anti-suffragist arguments. First and foremost are the gender norms of the day. As museum curator and author Jessica D. Jenkins puts it, quote, most people saw life as two distinct halves, with men ideally suited by nature to rule public life,

while women reigned in the home. Their introduction into the political ring would mean chaos in both spheres. That one quote sums up just about every anti-suffrage political cartoon I've ever seen, which often mocks suffragists and derides them for destroying the home. For example, one depicts a man in an apron on his knees, cleaning as his wife pinches his ear and chastises him. It's captioned as follows, quote, My wife's joined the suffrage movement. I've suffered ever since.

Close quote. A second issue for anti-suffragists is the perception that women's suffrage is radical. A number of suffragists support other ideas seen as fringe or dangerous. Socialism, free love, or the example we got a little earlier out west, polygamist Mormonism. Many respectable women condemn women's suffrage as bad by association. Finally, some anti-suffragist women would tell you that using the masculine ballot box would actually cost them power. Women's clubs have been influencing social issues for decades, and elite, educated, erudite women can wield enormous soft power,

even over politicians. They fear women's suffrage may threaten their, as they put it, indirect influence. It's likely for some or all of these reasons that, some months after that tragic fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company, one anti-suffragist leader is organizing on a national level. It's November 28, 1911, and a group of women is gathered in one of the posh homes inside the new red-brick 12-story luxury apartment building at 563 Park Avenue, New York City. This is the home of Josephine Jewel Dodge, and as her home suggests, she's no slouch. The daughter of a former U.S. minister to Russia, she studied briefly at Vassar College before marrying her husband, Arthur. Now a widow, Josephine, or, as she's still called, Mrs. Arthur Dodge, is known for two things. One, funding free daycare for the city's lower-class working mothers. Two, fighting against women's suffrage. She's personally testified before the state legislature and led a state-level

anti-suffrage organization. But now, with women from various states gathered in her breathtaking apartment, the 56-year-old grain widow is prepared to take a bigger step. Today, she's organizing the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage. The women begin by selecting their leaders. The irony isn't lost on me either But more to the point They choose Mrs. Robert Garrett of Maryland as treasurer And our hostess Mrs. Arthur Dodge as president

And with a reference to the pro-suffragist yellow flag The newly elected president soon describes what this organization is about We believe that political duties for women Interfere with the proper performance of civic duties for which they are peculiarly adapted. And women may maintain their independence only by keeping out of politics and away from the ballot box. Our National Association is brought into existence to combat the yellow peril, women's suffrage. It will follow the yellow flag and endeavor to stamp out the pestilence.

Under Mrs. Dodge's leadership, the National Association Opposed to Women's Suffrage sees more than 100,000 women join its ranks within the first year. As it publishes pamphlets and newsletters, that number will swell to half a million before the decade is out, leaving the nation's almost exclusively male legislators to listen with curiosity to contradictory messages they're receiving from women on enfranchising women. out, leaving the nation's almost exclusively male legislators to listen with curiosity to contradictory messages they're receiving from women on enfranchising women. But it's not just the anti-suffragists upping their game. A rising generation of suffragists is convinced that, if they really want the vote, it's

time for new tactics, stronger tactics, like those used across the Atlantic by their British sisters. And with this inspiration, the fight for women's suffrage is about to hit a whole new level. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like

Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's almost 12 noon, March 3rd, 1913. One day before the inauguration of President-elect Woodrow Wilson.

At least 5,000 people, possibly 10,000, and almost exclusively women, are assembled in Washington, D.C. Currently, this massive crowd is by the Civil War-inspired Peace Monument, just a stone's throw from the U.S. Capitol. But they're not here to stand. They're preparing to march through the nation's capital city for the cause of women's suffrage. Two women on horseback take their place at the front. Jane Walker Burleson and Inez Milholland. Jane is the Grand Marshal. Meanwhile, Inez simply captivates. Wearing a golden crown and flowing white cape, the horsewoman exudes confidence, poise, and unparalleled beauty. All of this is by careful design.

Though an eloquent and brilliant lawyer, 26-year-old Inez is known nationally for her beauty. The beautifulest suffragist, according to the New York Tribune, and savvy march organizer Alice Paul is guessing the media will give the march more coverage with dark-haired, vibrant Inez at the front. I'll bet Alice called it right. But hey, look! This procession is starting.

Let's watch. Nine bands strike up a patriotic tune as our Grand Marshal and the stunning Inez Milholland ride forward. An apparently endless procession follows. First are the floats and representatives of international suffragists, Canada, Australia, and more. Ah, there's Chinese George Washington University student Mei-Shuang Wu riding a float with her nine-month-old baby girl.

Next are depictions of the women's movement's pioneers and subsequent progress. Take note of the college robe-wearing new woman, as educated, boundary-pushing women are now called. Then we see women from various professions march by. Educators, librarians, clergy, factory workers, lawyers, physicians, even famous actresses. State delegations follow next. Amid all the pageantry are perhaps 40 black women, a majority of whom are Howard University students. Some organizers attempted to relegate black participants to the end of the procession, but integration won out. Joined and protected by two white friends, Ida B. Wells is

proudly marching at the head of the Illinois delegation. Coming to the back, we have about 70 supportive males. The National Men's League for Women's Suffrage is here, as well as some congressmen, like Representative Richmond Hobson of Alabama. It's a courageous and bold move, given the Deep South's strong anti-women's suffrage sentiments. Following his conscience, Will cost him his seat in 1916. Yellow and purple banners soar, trumpets sound,

and bands continue to play. Hundreds of women are in uniform. There are more than 20 floats, including one with a large sign reading, we demand an amendment to the Constitution of the United States enfranchising the women of this country. Meanwhile, a crowd of a quarter to a half a million watch. Wow. That's what happens when you plan your procession for the day before a presidential inauguration. Genius. But the heckling starts almost immediately.

A voice calls out, Where are your skirts? Police are slow to intercede, some even joining the ridicule. Likely not aware he's addressing the wife of a congressman, one officer yells at Genevieve Stone, If my wife were where you are, I'd break her head. People fill the street, and the procession stops and goes as men grab, shove, jeer, and even drunkenly climb on the floats. The suffragists keep their composure, though the occasional silent tear escapes.

After an hour of this, the military finally arrives. Soldiers clear the path. The procession continues. This massive march in Washington, D.C. was, as the Buffalo Evening News reports, the American women's suffrage movement's, quote, most elaborate demonstration in history, close quote. And it was smartly done. No, I don't just mean the organizing. I'm talking about outshining the new president in the media by holding it the day before his inauguration, placing Inez Milholland,

whose femininity, beauty, and grace contradict the anti-suffragist narrative of the new woman in a position visible to the public and media, and crushing it visually as they did with their tableau, or tableau vivant. If you're unfamiliar with the term, this describes a group of people striking a pose and freezing like they're in a painting. Well, a group of classically garbed women did this on the treasury building steps,

depicting the virtues and ideals Americans often envision as living women, such as liberty, peace, charity, and of course, the personification of the U.S. of A. herself, Columbia. The press ate all of this up too. Women's suffrage is hitting a new stride as we enter the 19-teens. It needed it. Not a single state budged on the issue from 1896 until 1910, a lethargic, dead era sometimes called the doldrums. These years also saw the death of two lifelong leaders, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who passed in 1902, and Susan B. Anthony, who followed in 1906.

But in 1910, women in the state of Washington obtained the vote. California followed in 1911, and last year, 1912, Arizona, Kansas, and Oregon all got on board. Along with the four early adopters, again, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Oregon all got on board. Along with the four early adopters, again, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Idaho, that brings us to nine states now where women have the franchise.

Oh, and in 1914, two more western states, Montana and Nevada, follow. Make that 11. What's going on? Well, women across the nation are pressing the issue. But some of the newfound wind in the sales of women's suffrage is due to two young suffragists named Alice Paul and Lucy Burns. They've brought a British flair that's adding some punch to the American movement. Under the leadership of Emmeline Pankhurst, the British-based Women's Social and Political Union marches, soapboxes, interrupts political meetings, and chains themselves to Parliament's railings. Not to overstate, but at their greatest extreme, some of these suffragists, known as militant suffragists, even resort to acts of arson and bombings, things we would call

terrorism in the 21st century. The violence is typically aimed at property, not people, but that line is crossed occasionally. In fact, a young president of the Board of Trade got horsewhipped a few years back. You might have heard of him. His name is Winston Churchill. Now, don't worry. Alice Paul and Lucy Burns are not accosting any future World War II heroes. But while studying in the UK a few years ago, they did become militant suffragists, or, to introduce a word the British press likes to use to belittle this particular crowd, suffragettes. The term will outlast the intended insult. They protested and got arrested several times. That's how they met, actually, under arrest at a London police station in 1909. And when these arrests led to imprisonment, they did as their fellow suffragists did,

demanded to be treated as political prisoners and went on hunger strikes. The hunger strikes resulted in forced feedings. See, no official wants to be the guy who let a lady die while in prison. But rather than acquiesce and grant them political prisoner status, the powers that be resorted to forced feedings. To do this, a small team holds the woman down and shoves a tube up one nostril until it circles down her throat. Alice Paul recalls well that, quote, while the tube is going

through the nasal passage, it is exceedingly painful and only less so as it is being withdrawn. I never went through it without the tears streaming down my face and often moaned from beginning to end and sometimes cried aloud. Between October and November 1909, Alice endures this twice every day. So that's the British experience Alice Paul and Lucy Burns brought back to the United States. Now, for the record, they aren't out to blow anything up. That would be a huge change of pace for Quaker-raised Alice. But the marching, the demonstrating, that side of militant suffrage, basically what we'd call political activism in the 21st century, that's their sweet

spot. Hence, the 1913 women's procession in Washington, D.C. But Alice and Lucy part ways with the National American Women's Suffrage Association, or NAWSA, shortly after the procession. The young duo's British suffragette ways are just a bit much for this calmer, well-established organization. The split leads Alice and Lucy to convert their Congressional Union for Women's Suffrage into a full-on political party in 1916. Called the National Women's Party, its goal is to convince the women in states where they can vote to support politicians—Republican, Democrat, no matter—who support a constitutional amendment for nationwide women's suffrage. They also spread the word. This includes running a weekly national newspaper,

The Suffragist, and continuing to engage the public with appearances and speaking tours. Sadly, these efforts lead to a tragic end for our horse-riding friend from the 1913 women's procession, Inez Milholland. Departing on a speaking tour in early October 1916, Inez doesn't realize that the chronic exhaustion and the irregular heartbeats she's recently experienced are symptoms of pernicious anemia. She tries to power through, but this catches up with her. While addressing a crowd of a thousand at Los Angeles' Blanchard Hall on October 23rd, she collapses.

Within a month's time, it becomes apparent that the once strong and vital Inez, the woman whose horse-mounted image will later inspire the creation of the superhero Wonder Woman, has exhausted the last of her life in the pursuit of women's suffrage. Inez passes on November 25th. Newspapers and speeches across the nation compare her to Joan of Arc and call her a soldier and a martyr.

Yet, even amid the sorrow of Inez's passing, November 1916 brings noteworthy progress for women's suffrage. While women in most states still cannot vote, Montana nonetheless elects Jeanette Rankin as the nation's first Congresswoman. And as 1916 gives way to 1917, the National Women's Party turns up the pressure on the President of the United States. Although Woodrow Wilson isn't opposed to women's suffrage on a state-by-state basis, he hasn't supported a constitutional amendment. And that isn't good enough for Alice Paul and Lucy Burns. Thus, they make the NWP the first group ever to picket at the White House.

Starting in January 1917, banner-carrying women become a constant sight at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. From 10 a.m. to 4.30 p.m., six days a week, they stand in front of the Northern Gates holding banners that indict the president for not taking more action on women's suffrage. One quotes the last words of Inez Milholland uttered before collapsing on stage. President Wilson, how long must we wait for liberty? The 2,000 or so women who rotate through bearing these banners remain civil and orderly, at most chaining themselves to the gates. It's their relative silence that results in their nickname as Silent Sentinels. Initially, the Silent Sentinels are tolerated well enough, but that changes when the US enters World War I in April.

Many Americans, even some sympathetic to women's suffrage, find these methods distasteful with the nation at war. They prefer NOSSA President Carrie Chapman Catt's approach, support the war effort and show that women are patriots who deserve the vote. The Silent Sentinels continue, though. In fact, they up the vote. The silent sentinels continue, though. In fact, they up the ante. In June 1917, as Russian diplomats come to the White House, protesters hold a 10-foot banner

proclaiming that the U.S. is, quote, not a democracy, close quote. Anti-suffragists, men and women, are incensed, and spectators tear the banners from the protesters' hands. The silent sentinels answer by continuing to show up. They have more banners with more slogans like this one. Quote, We shall fight for the things which we have always held nearest our hearts.

For democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments. Close quote. Of course, those words come verbatim from the president's war speech justifying America's entry into the conflict. Damn. Tensions continue to escalate. Counter-protesters are in full force. Police begin arresting silent sentinels for obstructing traffic.

Alice Paul and several others find themselves before a judge facing a $25 fine or 60 days in jail. Given those options, the British trained suffragist knows exactly what to do. She and her suffragist sisters opt for jail. They demand to be treated as political prisoners, then go on a hunger strike. As in the UK, Alice endures forced feedings. She's moved to a hospital for the insane. Meanwhile, more than 30 of her fellow silent sentinels are sentenced to Virginia's Occoquan Workhouse. Here, they face brutality. On the night of November 14th, 1917, Prison Superintendent W.H. Whitaker orders 40 guards to beat the Silent Sentinels senseless. These men,

charged with keeping the peace, chain up National Women's Party co-founder Lucy Burns. They throw Doris Lewis into an unlit cell. Her head slams into an iron bench, knocking her out cold. Women are choked, beaten, and told if they say a word, there will be hell to pay. But that doesn't stop Mrs. Brannon from speaking up. On November 25th, 1917, the New York Times quotes her husband,

Dr. John Winters Brannon, as he passes along her words. Here's a brief segment. From my wife's account, it is evident that the suffrage prisoners were deliberately terrorized when they entered Occoquan and were treated with great brutality by the men guards who handled them and knocked them about with the fury of thugs under the immediate direction of Mr. Whitaker himself, who called out that the men would be glad

to get their hands on them and handle them rough. In some cells, there were three women with nothing to lie on but one narrow bed and two straw mats. Mrs. Henry Butterworth of New York was carried off alone into the men's section of the jail and deliberately told there would be no other woman with her. And there she was left all night, the sound of men's voices on all sides. The silent sentinels will never forget Aquaquan. But above all, they'll never forget November 14th, a night

they know as the Night of Terror. The public is outraged. President Woodrow Wilson is outraged. All of the silent sentinels are released, and be it their activism, the quieter hard work of NAWSA, or perhaps both, Woodrow finally gives his public support to a constitutional amendment guaranteeing women's suffrage on January 9th, 1918. The House of Representatives votes on the amendment the next day. It passes with the exact two-thirds majority required by the Constitution, 274 for it and 136 against.

It takes the Senate longer, but it too concedes in June 1919. And once it does, the silent sentinels stop their White House protests. Ratification moves quickly in the now 15 states where women have the vote, and still others. NAWSA and the NWP both work hard to get more states to ratify. By the summer of 1920, 35 states have done so. That means if one more of the 48 states' legislatures ratifies, we'll cross the 75% threshold, and that will bring the amendment to life.

No wonder the pressure is so intense as the men in the Tennessee House of Representatives vote. It's August 18th, 1920. We're in Nashville, Tennessee, inside the state's gorgeous neoclassical limestone Capitol building, seated in the Tennessee House of Representatives chamber. The galley seats are crammed with yellow rose-wearing suffragists and red rose-wearing anti-suffragists. The whole room is tense as everyone knows this very split legislative body, which nearly tabled the vote moments ago,

is about to make one group euphoric, the other enraged. And either way, it will likely come down to one vote. Speaker of the House Seth Walker rises. He announces, the hour has come. Suffragists and anti-suffragists alike hold their breath as state representatives call out their vote in the chamber below. Harry Byrne is ready. This handsome, dark-haired, 24-year-old freshman legislator feels the eyes of his fellow representatives and those in the galley seats falling on him. Few doubt what he'll do. An anti-suffrage red rose adorns his lapel, after all. Then the young rep rises and votes. Aye. A pregnant pause envelops the chamber. But once the shock registers,

women seated above erupt with excitement and rain rose petals on the chamber below. Why did Harry change his mind? The reason isn't on his lapel. It's in his pocket. A letter just received from his mother. In it, she wrote, quote, hurrah and vote for suffrage and don't keep them in doubt. A letter just received from his mother. In it, she wrote, Harry's sure his constituents will hate him.

But as he'll say later, a boy should mind his mother's advice. In doing so, he's broken the chamber's tie and made Tennessee the 36th state to ratify the proposed amendment. In another eight days, on August 26, 1920, everything becomes official. Women's suffrage is now a constitutional right in the United States, guaranteed by a new 19th amendment. It reads as follows, The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex. Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation. And so, we come to the end of our long and winding road to women's suffrage.

From colonial voices like Abigail Adams, if not Lydia Taft, down to Tennessee's last-minute convert, Harry Byrne. We met women and men who played crucial roles in what eventually led to women's suffrage becoming a constitutional right. Perhaps Alice Stone Blackwell, the daughter of noted suffragist couple Lucy Stone and Henry Blackwell, put it best when she described women's suffrage as a fight, quote, of broad-minded men and women on the one side against narrow-minded men and women on the other, close quote. More specifically though, we've met women like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton who lived for women's suffrage. We met Inez Milholland who gave her life for women's suffrage. We met Inez Milholland, who gave her life for women's suffrage.

And still others who, amid hunger pains, forced feedings, and the brutality of Occoquan guards, proved ready to give their lives for it. Personally, when I think about what these women endured, the earnestness with which they craved the vote, I can't help but hear the echoes of Patrick Henry. Give me liberty or give me death. And thanks to them, American democracy became greater. In other words, the United States became a yet more perfect union. Seeing the task complete, the more moderate National American Women's Suffrage Association, NAWSA, comes to an end, though it more or less morphs into the League of Women Voters. But the National Women's Party isn't going anywhere. By 1923, Alice Paul is working on an equal rights amendment. That, however, is a story for another day.

Yet, with women's suffrage secured, another question begs to be answered. Is an American woman such as Ida B. Wells taken care of? Or are the Jim Crow laws of the New South that we learned about back in episode 101 still puncturing and fraying the value of the Reconstruction Amendments? Next time, we'll meet a rising post-Frederick Douglas generation of Black leaders, including Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois, as we turn our attention to that story. Thank you. Sherwood, Gurwith Griffin, Henry Brunges, Jake Gilbreth, James G. Bledsoe, Janie McCreary, Jeff Marks, Jennifer Moods, Jennifer Magnolia, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugaldugel, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie

Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nate Seconder, Nick Caffrell, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphreys-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson.