“Of that I have no doubt.”
Nearby, a woman spilled her champagne, breaking the moment. The man she was with tossed a handkerchief over the spill before leading the woman away.
“Now tell me, what exactly is your angle?” said Amelia. “It sounds like something bigger than some daily story for the Blotto.”
“Very funny. Our pseudo-newspaper is called the Blot. And yes, I have to admit that I think this movement, what’s going on down here, might be better as a long feature article. ‘The New Woman.’ There’s so much to encompass.”
“Be careful about writing about the club, though. Remember, what’s said there is strictly off the record.”
“Of course.”
The fact that Amelia had accomplished all she had by breaking rules, by pushing boundaries, made Laura a little less concerned about writing about the club, especially as it wasn’t for publication. Laura didn’t mention that she’d met some members for coffee, to ask them questions about the views and passions expressed during the meetings. Since she couldn’t openly take notes, it helped her round out the competing viewpoints.
One of which was being loudly discussed by a group standing next to the bartender, where Amelia and Laura waited for their drinks to be stirred.
“Don’t let men fool you.” The speaker, ironically, was a tall man, verging on gangly, with thick curly hair that spilled over his forehead and a jaw that jutted just beyond the point of handsome. As he spoke, he waved his arms, threatening the drinks of those gathered around him. “They love the idea of the New Woman, one who’ll raise their children, clean their house, and then make themselves available to all.”
A couple of women around him gasped.
Amelia stepped forward. “Then these ‘men,’ as you call them, notwithstanding that you’re one yourself, have the idea of a New Woman wrong. The New Women will make themselves available to whomever they choose, not necessarily to all. And what’s more, they will not only demand sexual power, they will also seize economic power.”
The man squared his shoulders. “Is that so?”
“Yes. And men are threatened by this. You see, while there is more than enough sexual power to go around, economic power is fixed. If we take more, you get less.”
“Your logic holds true. It’s a pleasure to meet an equal adversary.” He held out his hand. “I’m Frank Tannenbaum. Don’t believe a word I say. I’m only acting as devil’s advocate. We must be prepared to counterattack.”
“Dr. Amelia Potter.” Amelia had a glint in her eye.
“Dr. Potter, of course. Delighted.” Mr. Tannenbaum lifted his glass. “Let me put on my devil’s horns again: Women, the uptowners will say, are the guardians of what’s morally right. They keep the rest of us on the straight and narrow. If women throw off those shackles, won’t civilization be doomed?”
“Having a husband and child does not make one morally right. There are more ways of living than a man, a wife, and a brood,” said Amelia. “It’s time to expand our view of the household, and throw off the shackles of gender oppression. I can work, I can have a child, and I can love whomever I like. Just as you can.”
Laura, along with some of the others, nodded encouragingly. That was what she wanted also. Well, not the love-whomever part. But the work-and-raise-a-child part, certainly.
“We are restless, energized, and will not back down,” said Amelia, building momentum. “Whether for the right to vote, or access to birth control, or the right to make love outside of the bonds of marriage.”
Mr. Tannenbaum threw back his head and laughed. “I adore this woman.”
The discussion broke up as more guests arrived.
“Who is that?” asked Laura.
“Frank Tannenbaum emigrated from Austria when he was young, went to Columbia. This winter he’s been organizing protests for the poor.”
Laura had read about the nightly protests in the newspaper, five or six hundred men marching through the streets before approaching a church to demand food and beds. “What exactly are they trying to prove?”
“When they’re turned away? That the clergy don’t really care about the unemployed, that they are heartless.”
“He seems awfully young to be leading protests.”
“He’s twenty-one.”
Interesting that Amelia knew his exact age. “You seem impressed.”
“He’s a natural leader. And smart, you’ve seen that. While we’ve been tucked away in our beds during this particularly harsh winter, he’s out marching, calling attention to injustice.”
“Why don’t I see you marching out there with him?” Laura teased.
“I’ll march tonight if you will.” Amelia’s eyes shimmered. “We can go together. They’re meeting at Rutgers Square and heading to St. Alphonsus Church on West Broadway. You can write about it for the Blotto.”
It would make a good item for tomorrow’s reporting and writing class, Laura had to admit. None of the other students would be out on a cold winter’s evening if they could help it. That would certainly prove to Professor Wakeman that she was as good as the men. Furthermore, she wasn’t quite ready to quit Amelia’s company.
She threw back her drink, wishing she’d worn long underwear beneath her skirts.
“Let’s do it.”
* * *
What looked to be over five hundred men had gathered in the wedge-shaped area off of East Broadway on the Lower East Side by the time Amelia and Laura arrived at the protest. The winds whipped their skirts as Amelia guided Laura across the street, where they took shelter in a doorway.
“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Laura. She’d never been out after dark like this without Jack; two women walking together attracted more attention than she would have liked.
“Walk tall, don’t make eye contact. Here he comes.” Amelia pointed to Frank, who strode through the crowd and pulled himself up onto the base of a streetlamp, hanging on to it with one hand for support. The light shone on him like a spotlight, glinting off his dark hair. Why he wasn’t wearing a hat on a night like this was beyond Laura. He began shouting for everyone’s attention, and soon all heads swiveled up at him.
A hush came over the crowd.
“I know that many of you are out of work,” he said. “Over three hundred thousand men are out of work, so you are not alone.”
The men cheered.
“This makes ten consecutive days that we’ve come out and raised a commotion. You deserve better, you want to work, to feed your family, and the city, the country, has failed you. This is the era of progressive policies, where the greed of capitalism will be replaced with a safety net for all. You, me, all of us, demand more from our taxes. More from our politicians. More from our government.”