A Houseful of Women

Photograph of Anandibai Joshee (left) from India, Kei Okami (center) from Japan, and Sabat M. Islambouli (right) from Ottoman Syria, students from the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania. All three were the first woman from their respective countries to obtain a degree in Western medicine from a Western university (1885). Wikipedia.

In 1854 a woman named Elizabeth Rachel Brooks was born. She grew up in southern Illinois farm country, and never left it. As far as the world was concerned, she was of little note. She was six when the War between the States began. She married Albert McCallister, a farmer from one town over.  She had two daughters and one son. The son doesn’t feature much in the story. The oldest daughter, Betsy McCallister, married a man named Harry Ferguson in 1890, at age 19. Her sister Belle was much younger, a surprise baby.

By 1899, Elizabeth Brooks McCallister was an important person in her town's society, and in her own eyes. She felt a responsibility to uphold her family's reputation. After all, she was descended from the town's founding father, and the founding father of the sister town as well. She had pioneer blood flowing through her aging veins. It would not be an exaggeration to say she would defend that reputation fiercely, with every weapon at her disposal, should it be threatened.

"Life is hard but we do the best we can," she said and pursed her lips. She fanned herself vigorously. "We must not forget where we came from!"

Little chance of that with Mrs. McCallister present. Who on earth was she lecturing? "We are a proud people. Our ancestors came over on the Mayflower and founded this great country! Our sons fought in the Revolutionary War to win our freedom. Our boys fought and died in the War between the States."  She paused as she recalled the mayhem. "It was a downright shame that so many never returned..." Her voice trickled away, then quickly returned in full flood.

"We have a reputation to uphold. Our people have been here since the territory opened up in 1830! Your great-grandfather founded this town. So tell me, where has that scallywag of a husband got to?"

Betsy McCallister Ferguson colored slightly but said with a steady voice, "I am sure he will be back soon."

"The truth is, Betsy, he's always shinning[1] around to avoid Mr. McCallister and me." She snorted, pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve, then daintily wiped her nose with it. "He is a lady's man and no mistake, and 'how came you so' [2] often enough."

Betsy knew this was not the time to argue. Her mother was on a toot and no mistake.

"We never should have let you wed, Betsy, but you were determined. I thought you might run off with him if we didn't give in. Fiddlesticks!” She stomped one foot. “I'm afraid of what may come, Betsy. That Harry Ferguson is going to sky off someday and leave you for good, and you with two girls to raise. I swear I'll not let this happen again!"

Grandmother McCallister, as she came to be known, was right, of course. Harry Ferguson disappeared one day in 1899. As near as anyone could make out, he rode out toward Springfield then caught the train to Chicago and then points west. The ticket master said he had sold him a ticket to Seattle. Harry had sold the horse to pay for the ticket.

At some point, Ferguson took up with another woman. They traveled around the country, having babies as they went, as a trail of birth certificates attests.  They ended up in the Seattle area and lived out their days there.

But that is getting ahead of our story. At this juncture, Harry was seeking his fortune in Seattle among loggers and gold prospectors.

Betsy had a bit of spunk. She determined she was going after him, and apart from locking her up, no one was going to stop her. She scanned the paper for a job in Seattle and quickly found one. The US Army needed good secretaries, preferably with shorthand skills. She had learned it in school and was quite good at it. So she applied and was accepted. The army paid for her passage and had a young officer accompany her. This greatly relieved Grandmother McCallister's mind. A young woman traveling alone just wasn't proper.

"Thank you for taking care of Harriet and Sarah, Mama," Betsy said. They stood by the kitchen door waiting for the buggy that would take her to the nearest train station, where young Lieutenant Wilson would meet her. She clutched her crocheted reticule tightly, then straightened her spine, as if to pull herself up by her bootstraps.

Betsy made it to Seattle. In addition to looking for Harry and working, she also had some fun. She sent home photos of Seattle, and herself with the General, and other officers in charge. She had friends and went on hikes and had a marvelous time. She was not under her mother's thumb.

The census records say that she and Harry Ferguson were both in Seattle in 1900, and listed as married, but they were not living together. The records are completely separate. In the census of 1910 she was listed as divorced.

Seattle was a small place in 1900, so she had tracked him down.

In that same year, Grandfather McCallister died. He had been the sole support of the family, so Betsy had to return home. She took a job as a secretary at the bank in town, and Grandmother McCallister raised the girls. The house was now an established matriarchy, a not-too-unusual arrangement at the time if the head of the house died or left. But one thing was different. Mrs. McCallister had forward-thinking views about women's rights.

Grandmother pronounced her opinion to the family around the dinner table one night.

"I say women are as capable as men, and we need to be able to support our families. Being a washerwoman doesn't suit,” said Grandmother McCallister. "But we still have to live at home with our family. We do what is right and proper. Harriet, there are sheets to iron, and Belle, you can do the dishes. Sarah, sweep up the dining room and kitchen. Betsy, sit down, you look tired."

At that time. women’s education was not valued because they would not have to support a family, it was thought. But if they did, that meant they had to find work as a laundress, nursemaid, cook, maid, or scullery maid. With some education, a job as a secretary or teacher was possible.

Most women never went to college or even dreamt it. Most women married. Marriage was the appropriate future for all young women. If for some reason her husband was absent, injured, or dead, a higher-class, educated woman could be a teacher, nurse, secretary, or manage a household for a wealthy family. Grandmother McCallister was right. Education was important if her girls didn't want to wash sheets every day.

Grandmother McCallister commanded a household of women—her two daughters Betsy and Belle, and Betsy’s daughters Harriet and Sarah— with her force of personality. She was using a cane now and was not above stamping it on the floor to enforce a point. Betsy, on the other hand, liked to joke and tease the girls when Grandmother wasn't around. Little Sarah seemed to have some of the same spirit. Sometimes it wasn't clear who was responsible for the latest practical joke, but Sarah got blamed.

"Mama, she's done it again! She short-sheeted my bed!"

“Mama, she sewed my britches together!”

“Mama, she decorated the apple tree with my best hair ribbons, and they are blowing all around!”

“Mama, she put my hat on old Sue, she said the pig looks better in it!”

Belle and Harriet were only five years apart in age. They were both born in the late 1800s and were raised together. Belle was a beautiful woman and had a fiancée who loved her very much.  Her future seemed secure. Then one day they were in a terrible car crash when the car went into a ditch at speed. Her face smashed into the windshield. They were on a country road not much traveled. Mr. Gardner, her fiancée, carried her miles to the hospital, and while she was recovering, he died of a heart attack. Her face was rebuilt by surgeons but she was never the same. This is a heartbreaking story, but true.

Harriet also never married because Grandmother McCallister did not approve of her beau. She declared she wasn't going to make the Ferguson mistake again. Besides, Grandmother considered Harriet to be homely, at least in comparison to Belle, and told her so. This is also heartbreaking.

So both went to college in 1916, and both graduated in 1921 from the University of Illinois. Belle studied zoology and Harriet chemistry. They were not free of the family dynamic, however. The whole family moved to a town near the University of Illinois so they could all live together while the girls were at college. Sarah also decided to study at the University.

After graduating, Belle and Harriet took local teaching positions. In the 1930s, they both got jobs teaching at the Junior College in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and of course the family followed them to Michigan. They lived together there in a house on Franklin Avenue. It did make some sense—it was the Great Depression, and by living together they could make economies. But even when the others were gone, Belle and Harriet lived together for the rest of their lives.

Now, take note! Belle and Harriet both graduated from college before women had the right to vote Not only that, they both studied and taught science. They didn’t opt for English or literature. They didn’t become nurses or secretaries or schoolteachers. They didn’t have many female role models in science. Maybe Florence Nightingale? Madame Curie? There were women authors, and a few pianists, composers, and painters, but there weren't many women scientists at the beginning of the 1900s. Belle and Harriet had to earn a living, and this way they got to do what they loved. At some point, they took over providing for the family because Mama Betsy had become ill.

Harriet's and Belle's careers stand out for me, even though they taught in a junior college, and wrote no famous research papers. I came of age at the beginning of Women’s Liberation in the late 1960s, and took it for granted that women could be scientists because of what I knew of Belle and Harriet. It is only as I grow older that I realize what an achievement that was for them. I should not have taken it for granted. Nor should I take for granted the work of women, recognized or not,

Turn of the century (1900) women at a picnic

from whom we all descend.