Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #230
…”Hell, give ‘em a vote and before you know it, they’ll elect one of their own“…
Led by the fiery Paul, 300 women and growing, others joining along the one-mile walk from the city park to the capitol building, make their way noisily, some toting signs and banners. Only the deaf, dumb and blind are able to ignore this feminine spectacle, the rest either dumbfounded or unable to get their automobile or carriage around the protesters.
One of those inconvenienced is the chief of police, Sam Schuster. He has had a couple of his men watching what he thought was going to be a small dainty meeting. But he is on his way home, home to a dinner-less kitchen table, now thwarted by a huge crowd, Model Ts backed up for as far as the eye can see.
There is plenty of time for him to figure out what he can charge organizers with, though he is wise to let this run its course, for fear of being beaten by purses and parasols. On average, the chief runs a tight ship, nonsense and mischief are usually short-lived. He considers this nonsense on a very large scale. ‘We want the right to vote, ha, that’s a good one. What does a woman know about politics? Hell, give ‘em a vote and before you know it, they’ll elect one of their own.’ He is speaking to himself, about to change his mind. ‘This is bullshit–I’m going to break up this skirt party, arrest that woman fillin’ their heads with foolishness.’
He gets out of police car, puts on his official police hat, grabs his TPD megaphone and wades into the sea of estrogen driven humanity. He goes unnoticed, for the most part; an occasional dirty look cast his way, until he has achieved the podium on the stairs of the Capitol there for all the five hundred to see.
He turns to the crowd, speaking in the amplified cone, “Please disperse immediately! You are illegally blocking traffic!”
Alice Paul thinks on her feet, telling them, “That’s all right ladies, let’s go inside!” She turns straight away, followed directly by her audience. It is like cattle on the drive and Sam Schuster does not know what do, stumbling, mumbling, finally trampled into the concrete like so many ants.
When the dust clears, he shakes off his grogginess and heads for his car, well if he had one. It is not where he left it, the traffic jam having since broken up, and someone is joyriding in a black Model T Ford with big white a star and the letters TPD on each door. “Someone is going to pay for this… that Paul broad, yeah, I’ll walk her to the station if I have to!”