DRAMA IN THE LECTURE-FIELD
My most dramatic experience occurred in a city in Michigan, where I was making a temperance campaign. It was an important lum- b er and shipping center, and it harbored much intemperance. The editor of the leading news- p aper was with the temperance-workers in our fight there, and he had warned me that the liquor people threatened to ``burn the building over my head'' if I attempted to lecture. We were used to similar threats, so I proceeded with my preparations and held the meeting in the town skating-rink-- a huge, bare, wooden structure.
Lectures were rare in that city, and rumors of some special excitement on this occasion had been circulated; every seat in the rink was filled, and several hundred persons stood in the aisles and at the back of the building. Just opposite the speak- e r's platform was a small gallery, and above that, in the ceiling, was a trap-door. Before I had been speaking ten minutes I saw a man drop through this trap-door to the balcony and climb from there to the main floor. As he reached the floor he shouted ``Fire!'' and rushed out into the street. The next instant every person in the rink was up and a panic had started. I was very sure there was no fire, but I knew that many might be killed in the rush which was beginning. So I sprang on a chair and shouted to the people with the full strength of my lungs:
``There is no fire! It's only a trick! Sit down!
Sit down!''
The cooler persons in the crowd at once began to help in this calming process.
``Sit down!'' they repeated. ``It's all right!
There's no fire! Sit down!''
It looked as if we had the situation in hand, for the people hesitated, and most of them grew quiet; b ut just then a few words were hissed up to me that made my heart stop beating. A member of our local committee was standing beside my chair, speaking in a terrified whisper:
``There IS a fire, Miss Shaw,'' he said. ``For God's sake get the people out--QUICKLY!''
The shock was so unexpected that my knees al- m ost gave way. The people were still standing, wavering, looking uncertainly toward us. I raised my voice again, and if it sounded unnatural my hearers probably thought it was because I was speak- i ng so loudly.
``As we are already standing,'' I cried, ``and are all nervous, a little exercise will do us good. So march out, singing. Keep time to the music!
Later you can come back and take your seats!''
The man who had whispered the warning jumped into the aisle and struck up ``Jesus, Lover of My Soul.'' Then he led the march down to the door, while the big audience swung into line and followed him, joining in the song. I remained on the chair, beating time and talking to the people as they went; b ut when the last of them had left the building I a lmost collapsed; for the flames had begun to eat through the wooden walls and the clang of the fire- e ngines was heard outside.
As soon as I was sure every one was safe, however, I experienced the most intense anger I had yet known.
My indignation against the men who had risked hundreds of lives by setting fire to a crowded building made me ``see red''; it was clear that they must be taught a lesson then and there. As soon as I was outside the rink I called a meeting, and the Congre- g ational minister, who was in the crowd, lent us his church and led the way to it. Most of the audience followed us, and we had a wonderful meeting, dur- i ng which we were able at last to make clear to the people of that town the character of the liquor interests we were fighting. That episode did the temperance cause more good than a hundred ordinary meetings. Men who had been indifferent before became our friends and supporters, and at the fol- l owing election we carried the town for prohibition by a big majority.
There have been other occasions when our op- p onents have not fought us fairly. Once, in an Ohio town, a group of politicians, hearing that I was to lecture on temperance in the court-house on a certain night, took possession of the building early in the evening, on the pretense of holding a meeting, and held it against us. When, escorted by a com- m ittee of leading women, I reached the building and tried to enter, we found that the men had locked us out. Our audience was gathering and filling the street, and we finally sent a courteous message to the men, assuming that they had forgotten us and re- m inding them of our position. The messenger re- p orted that the men would leave ``about eight,'' b ut that the room was ``black with smoke and filthy with tobacco-juice. ``We waited patiently until eight o'clock, holding little outside meetings in groups, as our audience waited with us. At eight we again sent our messenger into the hall, and he brought back word that the men were ``not through, didn't know when they would be through, and had told the women not to wait.''
Naturally, the waiting townswomen were deeply chagrined by this. So were many men in the out- s ide crowd. We asked if there was no other en- t rance to the hall except through the locked front doors, and were told that the judge's private room opened into it, and that one of our committee had the key, as she had planned to use this room as a dressing and retiring room for the speakers. After some discussion we decided to storm the hall and take possession. Within five minutes all the women had formed in line and were crowding up the back stairs and into the judge's room. There we unlocked the door, again formed in line, and marched into the hall, singing ``Onward, Christian Soldiers!''
There were hundreds of us, and we marched di- r ectly to the platform, where the astonished men got up to stare at us. More and more women entered, coming up the back stairs from the street and filling the hall; and when the men realized what it all meant, and recognized their wives, sis- t ers, and women friends in the throng, they sheep- i shly unlocked the front doors and left us in posses- s ion, though we politely urged them to remain. We had a great meeting that night!
Another reminiscence may not be out of place.
