The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation
Strange these trials never caused me to become discouraged,
rather the reverse. I knew I was right, and God in his own time would
come to my help. The more injustice I suffered, the more cause I had
to resent the wrongs. I always felt that I was keeping others out of
trouble, when I was in. I had resolved that at the first opportunity I
would go to Wichita and break up some of the bold outlawed murder
mills there. I thought perhaps it was God's will to make me a sacrifice
as he did John Brown, and I knew this was a defiance of the national
intrigue of both republican and democratic parties, when I destroyed this
malicious property, which afforded them a means of enslaving the people,
taxing them to gather a revenue they could squander, and giving them
political jobs, thus creating a force to manage the interest and take care
of the results of a business where the advantage was in the graft it gave
to them and the brewers and distillers.
In two weeks from the close of this trial, on the 27th of December,
1900, I went to Wichita, almost seven months after the raid in Kiowa.
Mr. Nation went to see his brother, Mr. Seth Nation, in eastern Kansas
and I was free to leave home. Monday was the 26th, the day I started.
The Sunday before, the 25th, I went to the Baptist Sunday school then to
the Presbyterian for preaching, and at the close walked over to the Methodist
church for class meeting. I could not keep from weeping, but I
controlled myself the best I could. I did not know but that it would
be the last time I would ever see my dear friends again, and could not
tell them why. I gave my testimony at the class meeting; spoke particularly
to members of the choir about their extravagant dress; told them
that a poor sinner coming there for relief would be driven away, to see
such a vanity fair in front. I begged them to dress neither in gold, silver
or costly array, and spoke of the sin of wearing the corpses of dead birds
and plumage of birds, and closed by saying: "These may be my dying
words." At the close Sister Shell, a W. C. T. U. said to me: "What
do you mean by 'my dying words?' for you never looked better in your
life." I said: "You will know later." I never told anyone then of my
intention of smashing saloons in Wichita.
I took a valise with me, and in that valise I put a rod of iron, perhaps
a foot long, and as large around as my thumb. I also took a cane
with me. I found out by smashing in Kiowa that I could use a rock but
once, so I took the cane with me. I got down to Wichita about seven
o'clock in the evening, that day, and went to the hotel near the Santa Fe
depot and left my valise. I went up town to select the place I would begin
at first. I went into about fourteen places, where men were drinking
at bars, the same as they do in licensed places. The police standing with
the others. This outrage of law and decency was in violation of the oaths
taken by every city officer, including mayor and councilmen, and they were
as much bound to destroy these joints as they would be to arrest a murderer,
or break up a den of thieves, but many of these so-called officers
encouraged the violation of the law and patronized these places. I have
often explained that this was the scheme of politicians and brewers to
make prohibition a failure, by encouraging in every way the violation of
the constitution. I felt the outrage deeply, and would gladly have given
my life to redress the wrongs of the people. As Esther said: "How can
I see the desolation of my people? If I perish." As Patrick Henry said:
"Give me liberty or give me death."
I finally came to the "Carey Hotel," next to which was called the
Carey Annex or Bar. The first thing that struck me was the life-size
picture of a naked woman, opposite the mirror. This was an oil painting
with a glass over it, and was a very fine painting hired from the
artist who painted it, to be put in that place for a vile purpose. I called
to the bartender; told him he was insulting his own mother by having
her form stripped naked and hung up in a place where it was not even
decent for a woman to be in when she had her clothes on. I told him
he was a law-breaker and that he should be behind prison bars, instead
of saloon bars. He said nothing to me but walked to the back of his
saloon. It is very significant that the picture of naked women are in
saloons. Women are stripped of everything by them. Her husband is
torn from her, she is robbed of her sons, her home, her food and her
virtue, and then they strip her clothes off and hang her up bare in these
dens of robbery and murder. Well does a saloon make a woman bare of
all things! The motive for doing this is to suggest vice, animating the
animal in man and degrading the respect he should have for the sex to
whom he owes his being, yes, his Savior also.
I decided to go to the Carey for several reasons. It was the most
dangerous, being the finest. The low doggery will take the low and keep
them low but these so-called respectable ones will take the respectable,
make them low, then kick them out. A poor vagabond applied to a bar
tender in one of these hells glittering with crystalized tears and fine
fixtures. The man behind the bar said, "You get out, you disgrace my place."
The poor creature, who had been his mother's greatest treasure, shuffled
out toward the door. Another customer came in, a nice looking young
man with a good suit, a white collar, and looking as if he had plenty
of money, The smiling bar tender mixed a drink and was handing it to
him. The poor vagabond from the door called out. "Oh, don't begin on
him. Five years ago, I came into your place, looking just like that
young man. You have made me what you see me now. Give that drink
to me and finish your work. Don't begin on him."
I went back to the hotel and bound the rod and cane together, then
wrapped paper around the top of it. I slept but little that night, spending
most of the night in prayer. I wore a large cape. I took the cane
and walked down the back stairs the next morning, and out in the alley
I picked up as many rocks as I could carry under my cape. I walked into
the Carey Bar-room, and threw two rocks at the picture; then turned
and smashed the mirror that covered almost the entire side of the large
room. Some men drinking at the bar ran at break-neck speed; the bartender
was wiping a glass and he seemed transfixed to the spot and
never moved. I took the cane and broke up the sideboard, which had on
it all kinds of intoxicating drinks. Then I ran out across the street
to destroy another one. I was arrested at 8:30 A. M., my rocks and
cane taken from me, and I was taken to the police headquarters, where
I was treated very nicely by the Chief of Police, Mr. Cubbin, who
seemed to be amused at what I had done. This man was not very
popular with the administration, and was soon put out. I was kept
in the office until 6:30 P. M. Gov. Stanley was in town at that time,
and I telephoned to several places for him. I saw that he was dodging
me, so. I called a messenger boy and sent a note to Gov. Stanley,
telling him that I was unlawfully restrained of my liberty; that I wished
him to call and see me, or try to relieve me in some way. The messenger
told me, when he came back, that he caught him at his home, that he
read the message over three times, then said: "I have nothing to say,"
and went in, and closed the door. This is the man who taught Sunday
School in Wichita for twenty years, where they were letting these murder
shops run in violation of the law. Strange that this man should pull
wool over the eyes of the voters of Kansas. I never did have any
confidence in him. When he came to Medicine Lodge to lecture a few
months before this, I would not go to hear him, telling the people that
he was an enemy.
Kansas has learned some dear lessons, and she will be wise indeed
when she learns that only Prohibitionists will enforce prohibition laws.
That republicans and democrats are traitors, and no one belonging to
these parties should ever hold office, especially in Kansas.
At 6:30 P. M., I was tried and taken to Wichita jail; found guilty of
malicious mischief, Sam Amidon being the prosecuting attorney, and
the friend of every joint keeper in the city. He called me a "spotter"
when I wanted to give evidence against the jointists.
The legislature was to convene in a few days and it was understood
that the question of resubmitting the Prohibition Amendment would come
up. Being a part of the constitution, the people had to vote on it, and it
was frustrating their plans to have such agitation at this time, and
these republican leaders were determined to make a quietus of
me, if possible. The scheme was to get me in an insane asylum,
and they wished to increase my insanity as they called my zeal, so as to
have me out of their way, for I was calling too much attention to their
lawlessness, at this time, when it might prove disastrous to their plots.
Two sheriffs conducted me to my cell. The sensation of being locked in
such a place for the first time is not like any other, and never occurs the
second time. These men watched me after the door was locked. I tried
to be brave, but the tears were running down my face. I took hold of
the iron bars of my door, and tried to shake them and said: "Never mind,
you put me in here a cub, but I will go out a roaring lion and I will make
all hell howl." I wanted to let them know that I was going to grow while
in there.
Three days after, on the 30th, there was brought in and put next to
my cell an old man, named Isaiah Cooper, a lunatic, who raved, cursed
and tore his clothes and bedding. He was brought from the poor farm
where he was waiting to be sent to the insane asylum. There were some
cigarette, smokers in the jail and the fumes came in my cell, for I had
nothing but an open barred door. I begged that I might not be compelled
to smell this poison, but, instead of diminishing, the smoke increased.
Two prisoners from across the rotunda were brought next to
my cell.
What an outrage, to tax the citizens of Sedgwick County to build
such a jail as that in Wichita. It holds one hundred and sixty prisoners.
There were thirteen there when I was put in. I have been in many jails, but
in none did I ever see a rotary, except in Wichita, a large iron cage,
with one door, the little cells the shape of a piece of pie. Perhaps there
were a dozen in this one. The cage rotated within a cylinder. This was
for the worst criminals, and the cells were only large enough for a small
cot, a chair and a table about a foot square.
{illust. caption =
JUST BEFORE I LEFT WICHITA JAIL A PHOTOGRAPHER CAME TO MY CELL AND ASKED
TO TAKE MY PICTURE. HERE IT IS IN THE POSITION OF KNEELING, READING
MY BIBLE, WHICH WAS MY USUAL ATTITUDE.}
Mr. Simmons was the sheriff and he told the prisoners to "smoke all
they pleased," that he would keep them in material, and he kept his word.
Tobacco smoke is poison to me and cigarettes are worse. The health-
board belonged to this republican whiskey ring, and was in conspiracy
to make me insane, so they put a quarantine on the jail for three weeks,
and I was a lone woman in there, with two cigarette smokers, and a
maniac, next to my cell. John, the Trusty, smoked a horrid strong pipe,
and he also was next to my cell. Strange to say, when that jail had so
many apartments, and so few in them, that four inmates should have been
put next to me; but there was "a cause." Mr. Dick Dodd was the jailor,
and for three weeks he was the only one who came in my cell and I was
not allowed to see anyone in that time, but Dr. Jordan who called once.
I cried and begged to be relieved of the smoke, for I do not think Mr.
Dodd realized how poisonous it was to me. I would have to keep my