Rachel's Hope (6 page)

6

“Y
ou have to read Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Then there is Nellie Bly's Ten Days in a Madhouse,” said Anna, loading Rachel's arms with books. “Nellie Bly is an investigative reporter who faked insanity in order to report on brutality in a women's asylum.”

They were in the public library on the third floor of City Hall. Rachel could hardly believe the number of books, the rows that went on and on. She had never set foot in a library before.

“In Jules Verne's
Around the World in Eighty Days
,” explained Anna, “the character, Phileas Fogg, tries to prove he can go around the world in that amount of time to win a bet. Later, Nelly Bly actually traveled around the world by herself to see if it was possible to do it in eighty days.”

“Did she do it?”

“You'll have to find out for yourself.” Anna plunked a copy of Verne's novel onto Rachel's large pile of books.

“Are you sure I can take all these books home without paying?” Rachel shifted the books to ease her arms.

“That's the whole purpose of the library, letting people borrow books for free,” said Anna in a distracted voice. She examined the spines on a shelf just above her head.

“I think I have enough,” said Rachel. “It takes me a long time to read in English. I still have to look up so many words. It will take me months to get through these.”

“Nonsense,” said Anna. “You must spend every moment possible reading if you're going to write in English. It's like learning to paint: The more you practice, the better you will become.” She dropped another book onto the pile in Rachel's arms. “Walt Whitman. A fearless poet. You just have to read his poem, ‘O Captain! My Captain'!”

Rachel groaned under the weight of the books. “Aren't you going to Russia soon?”

“Not for a few months,” said Anna. “Lots of time to help you with your reading.”

They made their way past many shelves of books to the circulation desk.

“Did I tell you that the
Emanu-El
newspaper published my letter to the editor that I wrote about first coming to San Francisco?” asked Rachel.
Emanu-El
was a weekly Jewish newspaper published in San Francisco.

Anna stopped and spun around. “No. When did it come out?”

“Yesterday.”

“That's marvelous!”

“They even printed my full name, not just my initials,” said Rachel, referring to the Jewish newspaper she'd written for in Shanghai,
Israel's Messenger
. The editor there had refused to put her first name with her articles, telling her that people wouldn't read things written by a woman.

“You'll probably be a staff reporter for the
San Francisco
Call
by the time I get back,” said Anna, referring to one of the most important newspapers in San Francisco.

“You are very positive,” said Rachel, rushing to keep up.

“A better word would be
optimistic
. It means hopeful.”

“You are very optimistic,” said Rachel.

“Yes, I am,” laughed Anna.

Rachel dumped the books on the wide desk and pulled out her landing papers to prove her American residency. She needed these in order to get a library card. The librarian, a wisp of a woman with curly hair and unusually large front teeth, wrote Rachel's name and address on a card, noted the names of the books she checked out in a ledger, and handed them back to Rachel.

“You can return them in three weeks or check them out again if you haven't finished.” The librarian raised her eyes beneath her spectacles as if to suggest Rachel could never read all of the books so quickly.

“She'll be back in two weeks,” said Anna with conviction.

Rachel stifled a laugh and followed Anna down the stairs and through the door that led to the street.

“Two weeks!” said Rachel, when they stood at the busy corner of McAllister and Larkin.

“I haven't known you long, but from the way you've pushed yourself to improve your English over the past few weeks, I can tell you are not easily defeated,” said Anna. “I have no doubt you'll finish these books in two weeks and be back for more.”

A gust of wind pushed them along.

“Fog's rolling in,” said Anna, eyeing the soupy, opaque sky. “I should go.”

A raindrop fell on Rachel's cheek. She tightened her grasp on her books and smiled slyly at Anna. “Are you meeting your boyfriend?”

Anna's cheery expression froze. Rachel regretted asking such a personal question and chided herself for being so impulsive.

“We're not seeing each other anymore,” said Anna in a sorrowful voice. “He wanted me to give up my trip to Russia to be with him, and I refused.”

“I'm sorry,” said Rachel. “I shouldn't have pried.”

“It's for the best,” said Anna, putting on a show of relief that seemed artificial. “I'm covering a meeting tonight. It's the National Council of Jewish Women. They want to have a discussion about women's rights and women's suffrage. Do you want to come?”

“Very much,” said Rachel, grateful to be asked. She had an English class. But the chance to attend such a meeting and see Anna in action as a reporter was too tempting to pass up.

“Come to Temple Emanu-El at seven o'clock.”

“I'll be there.”

⚓ ⚓ ⚓

Rachel tilted her head back to look at the twin Gothic towers of Temple Emanu-El that rose higher than any other building she'd seen in San Francisco. Wealthy Jews who had emigrated from Bavaria, had founded it. With its intricate columns and two onion-shaped domes, the building resembled a Torah scroll. Rachel heard animated voices and turned to see a parade of women approaching the arched Sutter Street entrance. Some came in pairs, others in groups, and a few were alone. Rachel could not keep her eyes from the women who marched into the synagogue with their backs held upright, their chins thrust forward. Most were well dressed in stylish skirts that draped elegantly to their feet. Many wore hats with feathers jutting high above their heads.

What struck Rachel most, was that this meeting had been organized, and would be attended exclusively, by women. In Russia, this would not be possible. Buoyed by her newfound sense of freedom as a woman, Rachel strutted into the synagogue, head held high.

Inside, about four hundred women filled a third of the seats facing the altar. The high ceiling was constructed of arches, and arched stained glass windows flanked the sides of the building. Three organizers of the Council of Jewish Women sat facing the congregation. Rachel scanned the group to find Anna. As she moved closer to the front, she spotted Anna in the first row of seats at the far right, animatedly talking to another elegantly dressed woman.

“Ladies, take your seats please,” said one of the organizers, a woman in her mid-forties.

Rachel slipped into a seat, glanced over at Anna and saw that she was now sitting alone, pen poised above her paper, eyes fixed on the woman speaking.

“Welcome to the San Francisco Chapter of the National Council of Jewish Women,” the organizer began. “I am Selena Solomons. For those of you who don't know me, I'm the chapter president this year.”

Selena went on to explain that she would update the committee on local activities, before getting to the purpose of the meeting—a vote to determine whether or not members were interested in making the case for women's suffrage in the coming months. Only members were eligible to vote.

Rachel, her eyes moving from Selena to Anna, sat mesmerized as Selena spoke about the success of their clean milk program for underprivileged children and the opening of a new school playground south of the trolley tracks on Market Street.

Selena then proposed a new program: teaching sewing to Jewish children at Homewood Terrace orphanage. She asked for members in favor of supporting this new program to raise their hands. Almost every hand in the synagogue went up. Rachel squirmed, uncomfortable at being one of the only people without a raised hand, one of the few non-members present.

“Good,” said Selena. “Please let me know after the meeting if you are interested in being on the committee for Homewood Terrace.” She cleared her throat.

“Now I'd like to discuss the issue of suffrage in California. It has been five years since our chapter was formed. In that time we have not even addressed the most important issue facing Californian women today—our fundamental right to vote.”

Selena went on to explain that men in California had voted down suffrage in 1896 because they feared that women would interfere with the booming alcohol industry. The majority of women supporting suffrage were also associated with the temperance movement. They were openly against the sale, distribution, and use of alcohol because so many men had disrupted their domestic lives by becoming hard drinkers. San Francisco had more saloons and liquor stores than any city west of the Mississippi. Alcohol-related businesses generated a lot of income.

“Women have been active in the temperance movement. And these men are afraid we will put an end to their drinking,” Solomons continued.

The crowd of women burst out laughing at this remark.
Ironic
, thought Rachel.
Anna believed strongly in women's suffrage, yet her own father ran a successful liquor store, a business that hindered the suffrage movement.

“We must unite with other groups of women to support our right to vote,” Selena continued when the laughter died down. “We need to involve more working-class women and we need to venture outside of the city to small towns and farming communities to get our message out.”

“Even if we have a majority of women involved, from the very poor to the very wealthy, men will still find a reason to vote us down,” said a woman in the second row.

“Are you suggesting we stop trying?” said Selena. “We know that women can already vote in Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Idaho.”

“No,” the woman conceded. “I'm just tired of fighting and getting nowhere.”

“That's exactly what men are hoping.” Another woman, taller than most men Rachel had ever seen, stood. “They want to wear us down so we give up, and I, for one, intend to keep fighting until I can step into a voting booth.”

Rachel cast a sideways glance at Anna who was writing furiously, and her own mind swelled with ideas for an article about this meeting. The thought of being able to cover events like this, events that could change the lives of women, made Rachel realize that she wouldn't be truly content until she was a journalist in America.

⚓ ⚓ ⚓

News from
Israel's Messenger
, Shanghai

Jewish Women in San FranCisco Determined to Break Down Barriers

By R. Paskar

For Russian-born Anna Strunsky, rules are made to be broken. Nothing will stop her from obtaining her goals. After attending Stanford University—where she was suspended for receiving a male visitor in her room instead of the parlor—she published a novel in 1903,
The Kempton-Wace Letters
, along with co-author Jack London. She also founded the Friends of Russian Freedom in San Francisco, which promotes empathy and support for Russian workers through leaflets.

A fearless, staunch socialist, she will soon be traveling back to Russia to report on the workers' strikes in St. Petersburg and Moscow. This journey is surprising, even shocking, given that Jews have been and continue to be victims of violent massacres throughout Russia. While Jews are flocking to Shanghai and America in search of respite from virulent anti-Semitism, Anna Strunsky is returning to Russia where she was born, eager to cover dangerous uprisings in the name of truth.

“From my very childhood,” says Strunsky of her decision to report from Russia, “I have felt the charms of Russia: the call of its pain, its suffering people, and its heroism.”

Though Anna Strunsky is exceptionally courageous and ambitious, she is one of many San Francisco Jewish women determined to achieve a higher status within society. Dissatisfied with their traditional roles as wives and mothers, these women are revealing their competence in managing responsible positions usually held by men. This is most evident at the settlement house and medical clinic in the South of Market district, run by the Emanu-El Sisterhood, a German-Jewish group of women established at Temple Emanu-El in 1894. This Sisterhood also runs a dormitory in the Fillmore District for single, working Jewish women.

A second example of women leading women can be found in the local chapter of the National Council of Jewish Women. This organization spans the entire country, invites women of all economic classes, and oversees activities that help the poor and elderly.

At Mount Zion Hospital, the ladies' auxiliary has evolved from typical roles for women such as cooking, mending linen and visiting ill patients, to raising funds and being appointed to board of directors committees. This shift in women's roles did not come without a fight. At first, the male board of directors of the hospital refused to give these women more responsible roles. When the ladies' auxiliary of the hospital warned the board it would leave if their women weren't allowed to take on more responsible tasks, the board relented. Another barrier was broken.

⚓ ⚓ ⚓

September 1, 1905

Rachel Paskar

35 Sixth Street

San Francisco, California

Dear Rachel,

Thank you for sending me your Yiddish article, which I have published in the most recent edition of
Israel's Messenger
. Since you wrote your first article for me, I have seen a great improvement in your work. Your article has provoked much attention here in Shanghai. Everywhere I go, I hear people talking about American women. Some are in favor of women like Strunsky, and many more are appalled at the idea of a woman reporter. Your piece has opened the minds of people and elicited heated disagreements. You have come a long way in your writing, since your days in Shanghai.