Uncategorized – News from the Archives

Apr 25 2022

Women Safe After Dark? The Beginnings of Take Back the Night at the University of Iowa

Posted on April 25, 2022April 22, 2022 by Anna Holland

On September 12, 1979, an advertisement for a rally appeared in the campus newspaper, the Daily Iowan. The outline of a woman with bows and arrows, shooting into the night sky was accompanied with the promise, “Friday evening at 8 p.m., the women of Iowa City will have a chance to support each other in a move to reclaim the freedom that comes from being unafraid.” September 14^th, 1979 would be Iowa City’s first major Take Back the Night Rally. The rally inspired hundreds of women to attend, spawned weeks of angry debate in the Daily Iowan, and started a tradition of rallies against sexual violence in Iowa City that continues over forty years later.

Flyer for the first Take Back the Night event in Iowa City, summer of 1979

The term Take Back the Night had been coined just two years earlier in 1977 when activist Anne Pride used it as the title of a memorial at an anti-violence rally in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The phrase became a rallying cry for women sick of being afraid to walk alone at night and tired of rapists getting away with their crimes. The movement spread quickly, and by the summer of 1979, Iowa City had already had one small rally protesting a local spike in violence against women. After this, Iowa City women formed a committee, supported by the University’s Women’s Resource and Action Center, to plan a larger rally “for women to assert their right to safety on the streets and in their homes.”

The rally took place from 8:00 to 10:00 pm at College Green Park, near the downtown, which had become a hot spot for rape, attempted rape, and sexual harassment. The Rape Victim Advocacy Program provided maps of the area to attendees marking over 100 reported incidences of sexual violence from January 1978 to March 1979.

In response to this reality, Take Back the Night’s schedule had strong themes of education, self-expression, and self-defense. The planning committee included other organizations like a local chapter of NOW and the Rape Victim Advocacy Program and the University of Iowa’s Taekwondo Club to provide self-defense tactics to women in attendance. Local artists also inspired attendees with songs like “Fight Back” by Holly Near with powerful lyrics:

“Some have an easy answer

Buy a lock and live in a cage

But my fear is turning to anger

And my anger is turning to rage

And I won’t live my life in a cage – no!”

A map of Iowa City shows reported incidences of sexual violence over 14 months from 1978 – 1979.

In an event full of rage, perhaps the most infuriating part was a play: “Rape on Trial.” The scene was set as a courtroom with judge, lawyers, and jury. The victim took the stand, detailing a truly awful crime in which a rapist broke into her home and force himself upon her. The characters framed her as an unreliable witness, criticizing her actions like wearing a nightgown and sleeping with the window open on a hot day, while the rapist was valorized for his civic engagement, career, and status as a father. The audience was then privy to the jury’s deliberations during which the jurors say “I think she’s lying,” and “I don’t think that we should ruin this poor man’s life or his whole career for that matter.” The jury found him not guilty. For the women watching, it must have been an emotional, angering experience.

The first major Take Back the Night rally in Iowa City was a success with an attendance of about 500 women, over 300 of which stayed to march after the rally. However, the coverage after the event hinged on something else entirely: the committee’s decision to make Take Back the Night a women’s-only event. Men who approached College Green Park on the night of September 14^th were approached by groups of women and given cards stating: “Given the nature of rape and sexual abuse, the presence of men here will make some women uncomfortable. Men sensitive to this issue will demonstrate their concern by not attending this rally which has been organized by women for women. Thank you for your cooperation.” The Rape Crisis Line sponsored an alternate event for men who supported Take Back the Night at the Wesley House downtown.

Cards were given to men who approached the rally, asking them to keep the space for women only.

The women handing out cards were described by some as “guards” and by others as “para-military.” One person even complained to the police. On September 17^th the Daily Iowan published an editorial by Michael Humes title “Taking Back Everyone’s Night.” Humes recognized that the rally did let men stay after receiving the card, but then complained about the “exclusionary intent” and accused Take Back the Night of “identifying all men with rapists.” Over the next two weeks, Take Back the Night’s supporters, the Humes camp, and many others in the middle consumed the Daily Iowan’s editorial page with a debate over whether the rally’s planners had been unfair to men. As Jane Vanderbosch insightfully said her letter to the editor, “It is somewhat ironic to realize that Humes’ ‘rage’ was not ‘denied.’ It covered a good portion of the editorial page, as did his ‘possible resentment.’ Neither the rage nor resentment of the 500 women who attended the rally was given much coverage.”

But their rage would continue to be heard in Take Back the Night rallies, and will be again this week on April 26^th, 2022 when a Take Back the Night rally will take place on the Pentacrest starting at 6pm. All are encouraged to attend.

Mar 16 2022

Kittredge Cherry and Audrey Lockwood: A Love Story

Posted on March 16, 2022March 2, 2022 by Anna Holland

This post was written by IWA Student Specialist, Abbie Steuhm.

The LGBTQ+ community has grown in incredible size and visibility in the last decade. The legalization of same-sex marriage in the U.S. in 2015 was a colossal milestone for LGBTQ+ rights, and it has arguably helped in the normalization and acceptance of LGBTQ+ people nationwide. However, one may wonder about the lives of queer couples before this milestone. What did they do when they wanted to take their relationship to the next level? Did they just live together? Did they even believe in the concept of marriage? Kittredge Cherry and Audrey Lockwood’s forty-seven years together as a married lesbian couple helps answer these questions.

Cherry and Lockwood met as students at the University of Iowa.

Reverend Kittredge “Kitt” Lynne Cherry and Audrey Ellen Lockwood were both born in 1957, with Cherry living in Iowa and Lockwood living in Wisconsin. The two graduated from the University of Iowa together in 1979 with Bachelor of Arts degrees. The couple then lived together in Japan, with Cherry on a studying-abroad scholarship and Lockwood beginning her career in business, before returning to the U.S. and settling in San Francisco, California. It was in San Francisco that Cherry and Lockwood became involved in the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), one of the few Christian churches that welcomed the LGBTQ+ community. The two are now living together in Los Angeles, where Cherry continues her work on LGBTQ+ and spirituality via her blog Q Spirit.

It was in 1975 during their freshman year that Audrey Lockwood and Kittredge Cherry locked eyes with one another for the first time—and certainly not the last—while attending the University of Iowa. Lockwood reminisces on their meeting in her short article “My Summer of Love,” noting how her and Cherry “managed to get ourselves out of Burge Dorm and into the Stanley all girls’ dorm sophomore year, where we fell madly in love, as we watched beautiful sunsets from our room on the 10th floor overlooking the Iowa River.”

That love continued to flourish even as the couple traveled to Japan and then to Los Angeles, California, where Cherry was ordained as a minister for the MCC. Together, the couple advocated for LGBTQ+ rights, particularly LGBTQ+ rights within the Christian church. Cherry has written many books and articles about LGBTQ+ people’s spirituality and sexuality within the Christian church, from Hide and Speak: A Coming Out Guide (2006) to The Passion of Christ: A Gay Vision (2014). One of the earliest articles Cherry was involved in was the 1989 Los Angeles Times article, “Marriage Between Homosexuals is Nothing New for Some in S.F.,” where Cherry gives the proud statement that she still lives by to this day:

“I don’t think we need the state to tell us our marriage is real. I think our marriage is just as real now as if it were legally recognized.”

Despite legal marriage equality being decades away, they were married by the Metropolitan Community Church in 1987.

Same-sex marriage at this time was illegal, and most churches refused to even marry same-sex couples in spirit, but Cherry and Lockwood found a wonderfully willing ministry through the MCC. In 1987, Lockwood and Cherry were married, and they lived together happily as one of the few lesbian couples who were proudly “out” during the time. Despite not being legally married, Lockwood and Cherry nevertheless vowed their commitment to one another under their own beliefs and religion. They lived together for the next forty years until their marriage was legalized after the Obergefell vs. Hodges decision in 2015. They continue living happily ever after in Los Angeles to this very day.

It was no doubt a long road that Cherry and Lockwood traveled to get to where they are now along with the rest of the LGBTQ+ community. Cherry and Lockwood’s photobooks gives wonderful detail and insight into the history of the LGBTQ+ community, from every cat adopted and protest marched in the fight for same-sex marriage. Such a long, winding history, and yet Lockwood still remembers her time in the University of Iowa dorms. In the last lines of her article “My Summer of Love,” Lockwood says:

“To this day I can still see the view from 10th floor Stanley, as we listened to the Brandenburg concertos, Chopin nocturnes, and David Bowie singing ‘Oh You Pretty Things.’”

Feb 25 2022

Civil Rights Trailblazer June Davis Donates Papers to IWA

Posted on February 25, 2022March 15, 2022 by Heather Cooper

This post is by Archives Assistant Heather Cooper.

The Iowa Women’s Archives recently received the first installment of a new collection of personal papers from Norma June Wilson Davis. Davis, who later became an administrator at the University of Iowa, was at the forefront of the student civil rights movement in Atlanta, Georgia, in the early 1960s. Born in Jacksonville, Florida, in 1940, Davis recalled that she realized she was different at a young age and resisted expectations that she sit at the back of the bus or drink at the water fountains marked for African Americans’ use when she went into town with her mother. Primarily known as “Norma” prior to her marriage, Wilson moved to Atlanta in 1957 to attend Spelman College and was part of a community of students from several Black colleges and universities who were inspired to organize their own protest movement after the first student sit-ins took place in Greensboro, North Carolina. Wilson was a central figure in what became known as the Atlanta Student Movement (ASM). Announcing their presence on the civil rights stage, representatives took out full-page advertisements in several newspapers, outlining their grievances and objectives. In “An Appeal for Human Rights,” Atlanta students declared that “Today’s youth will not sit by submissively, while being denied all of the rights, privileges, and joys of life. … [W]e plan to use every legal and non-violent means at our disposal to secure full citizenship rights as members of this great Democracy of ours.” As chair of the ASM’s Action Committee, Wilson played a major role in organizing the rallies, picket lines, economic boycotts, and sit-ins that swept Atlanta and the region from 1960 to 1961. The IWA is honored to preserve the papers of N. June Davis in our repository.

From “An Appeal for Human Rights,” March 9, 1960

Macon News, December 7, 1960. Norma Wilson center.

Although her name is far less known than some other civil rights activists, Wilson was a trailblazer in the student movement. Readers are likely familiar with the “Freedom Rides” organized by James Farmer and the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE) in 1961 – a campaign to challenge segregation in interstate travel and accommodations. Six months before Farmer organized the first so-called “Freedom Rides,” Norma Wilson and other members of the ASM led their own effort to challenge segregation in facilities for interstate travelers. In 1960, Wilson and two other students boarded a Greyhound bus on the Atlanta-to-Jacksonville route. When the bus stopped at a station in Macon, Georgia, they tried to dine in the all-white cafeteria and were subsequently taken into police custody. Davis recalled, “So, we went to the police station and the police chief and I talked and I said, ‘You know we haven’t broken any laws.’ And he said, ‘We don’t serve you.’ And I said, ‘The Supreme Court just said you will.’ So, he left the office and went out, conversed with some people, and found out I was right.” One newspaper noted that it was “the first such integration attempt reported in Macon.” Davis remembered that, after reading about the bus station confrontation in the newspaper, James Farmer called ASM leader Lonnie King and said, “’I like the idea of the rides that you took. I think I’m going to call them Freedom Rides.'” “And that,” Davis said, “is how the Freedom Rides were born.”

Wilson and her colleagues were not actually arrested in Macon, but arrest was a regular occurrence for students and others who participated in sit-ins and other public demonstrations. The President of Spelman College actually sent letters to parents to inform them that students’ participation in demonstrations “on the desegregation front” could lead to arrest and time in jail. Wilson was sentenced to time in a number of different facilities, including two weeks in a work camp where male prisoners worked on a chain gang and female prisoners picked crops and worked in the kitchen or laundry. Davis recalled, it was “not a safe situation … for the women.” Following one of Wilson’s arrests, the Dean of Women at Spelman telegrammed Wilson’s mother: “REGRET DAUGHTER IN JAIL. REFUSES BAIL.” Wilson and others often refused bail and organized a “jail without bail” campaign in order to pack the jails and “hopefully strain the financial resources of the county.” It was another attempt to use economic pressure to force change. Two years before Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote his famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” Wilson and other participants in the “jail without bail” program issued a public statement from the Atlanta city jail: “[T]he only way we can achieve our freedom is by being willing to endure and suffer the hardships that are encountered in the achievement of freedom. I only wish that each of you were here to share the darkness of this room, this hard bunk, the smell of the place, and the filth, but yet the light of freedom is slowly slipping in.”

This blog highlights just a few moments in June Davis’s story. This first installment in our new collection of Davis’s personal papers includes fascinating material from her years in Atlanta, including correspondence and a journal from her time in jail, original newspapers and movement publications, and the transcript of an oral history about her work in the ASM. We look forward to receiving and exploring more material that sheds light on Davis’s life and work in Iowa. After moving here with her family in 1968, Davis continued to be a community activist, serving, for example, on an advisory committee that investigated racism in the Iowa City school system. Davis also had a long career at the University of Iowa, where she worked in Residence Services, Finance and University Services, and the Office of Affirmative Action.

Dec 22 2021

Disability Rights in the Elizabeth Riesz Papers

Posted on December 22, 2021December 22, 2021 by Anna Holland

The following post was written by IWA Student Assistant, Abbie Steuhm.

The Disability Rights Movement has seen great progress and recognition in recent years; however, as with most social movements, the historic past for disabled people is one of severe discrimination and offensive, prejudiced, and even racist language.

On January 30, 1972, Anthony Shaw, M.D. published an article titled “’Doctor, Do We Have a Choice?’” in The New York Times, where he discussed guiding parents in their decision about whether to allow their infant born with Down Syndrome to have life-saving surgery, or to let them die. In his article, Shaw shares how he knew many other physicians who were parents of children with Down Syndrome and how “almost all have placed them in institutions,” remarking that “couples who are success-oriented and have high expectations for their children are likely to institutionalize their mentally deficient offspring rather than keep them at home.” Shaw continues his prejudiced commentary by adding that “although most parents allow the necessary surgery, many of them would be relieved to have their [child] die.”

Let’s Cook! was a helpful and accessible resource for people like Sarah Riesz who were striving for more independence with Down Syndrome.

However, through scouring the IWA, a common thread in history can be found: if there is a public forum, people will use it to express their own beliefs. Which is exactly what happened with Shaw’s New York Times article. Social workers, employees of state health departments, and average people wrote to the editor to address Shaw’s disturbing prejudices with their own life experiences.

Mrs. Ethel H. Basch, a social worker and mother of a child with Down Syndrome, replied, “Some of the things that Dr. Anthony Shaw said… made me hopping mad… It has been my experience that the physician is the last one to offer supportive help for the parents of defective children…”

Japanese translation of Riesz’s book, First Years of a Down’s Syndrome Child

Dennis R. Ferguson, an employee of the Connecticut State Department of Health, replied, “I draw a very distinct difference between abortions and postnatal euthanasia. I cannot accept Dr. Shaw’s posture that parents of handicapped children have the legal and/or moral responsibility of determining whether this human being lives or dies.”

Shaw’s article may appear as an oddity considering its placement within the Elizabeth D. Riesz papers. Elizabeth Riesz, born 1937, was a teacher, educational consultant, and advocate for services for disabled people. Her own daughter Sarah, born 1972, had Down Syndrome, which made Riesz realize how little resources there were for parents of children with Down Syndrome. Instead of following Shaw’s statement on placing children in an institution, Riesz raised Sarah at home. Sarah would later be among the first students with disabilities to be integrated into the Iowa City public school system.

Elizabeth Riesz would continue her advocacy, becoming the president of the Association for Retarded Citizens (ARC) of Johnson County (1977-1982) and traveling to Osaka, Japan to speak about disability resources and programs, with some of those programs being implemented in Japanese schools. Riesz would also go on to create the Let’s Cook!: Healthy Meals for Independent Living cookbook. This cookbook, designed for people with disabilities who live independently, gives a variety of nutritious recipes from Apricot Curry Chicken to Smothered Porkchops, along with clear instructions, large photo illustrations, and meal planning and preparation advice. In the cookbook’s introduction, Riesz shared how her daughter had three heart problems along with Down syndrome “that caused her to grow slowly and left her physically weak.” But Sarah grew up strong and healthy, and in her teenage years, Riesz and Sarah’s father “loved coming home from work on Mondays! That’s the day of the week that Sarah cooked… for our family.” Sarah’s recipes would become the foundation for the cookbook, and her meals are eaten and loved by many.

Example recipe from Let’s Cook! employs large print and step by step guides to cooking

So, why would one find Shaw within Riesz’s collection of achievements and work for disability rights? Shaw’s article was published in 1972, the same year Sarah Riesz was born. Instead of finding resources, programs, and a supportive community for her newborn daughter, Elizabeth Riesz instead found an article published in a popular newspaper from a doctor tasked with performing surgeries on children like Sarah, discussing his encouragement of parents to euthanize their children born with Down Syndrome, as the only other supposed option was institutionalizing the child. Faced with such heavy-handed discrimination from the very people who are supposed to help save children like Sarah, Riesz went against all odds and created her own programs and resources. Riesz raised her daughter at home, supporting her throughout her life. Riesz then shared her achievements with those in Iowa City and even Japan. Shaw’s article serves as evidence to what disabled people faced within the medical system and their daily lives. Elizabeth and Sarah Riesz are truly inspirational for not only proving Shaw incredibly wrong, but also working to improve their own lives and the lives of disabled people during a time where disabilities were grounds for death.

Sep 17 2021

IWA’s 2021 Kerber Grant Recipient Finds Personal Stories within Industrial Agriculture

Posted on September 17, 2021September 17, 2021 by Anna Holland

In Box 24 of the Lonabelle Kaplan Spencer papers, Andrew Seber finally found exactly what he was looking for: personal testimonies by rural citizens whose lives were turned upside down by the development of hog confinements near their Iowa homes. Seber’s dissertation, Neither Factory nor Farm: the Other Environmental Movement, will focus on industrial animal agriculture in Iowa, one of the world’s largest hog producers. As 2021’s Linda and Richard Kerber Travel Grant recipient, Seber was able to travel from the University of Chicago, where he is a doctoral student, to Iowa City and spend a week researching at the Iowa Women’s Archives.

Seber traces his interest in meat production back to high school, when an AP environmental science course first made him aware of meat as an environmental problem. He took this interest to college where he developed a scholarly interest in agriculture, ecology, and cultural studies. He believes that historically, the environmental movement has marginalized animal agriculture as a focus, in favor of fossil fuels and conservation. While recognizing that these are important issues, Seber says the irony is that animal agriculture is inextricably linked to both of them as it uses tremendous amounts of fossil fuel and causes air and water pollution. In his opinion, it cannot afford to be neglected, and he sees his work as a critique of the liberal environmental movement that became predominant in the 1970s and which informed the environmental social sciences.

For his research in IWA, Seber is relying heavily on the Lonabelle Kaplan Spencer papers to help him situate his work geographically. Spencer became an activist against Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) in the 1970s when she learned that a hog lot was being built near a Girl Scout camp. Through her work, she discovered that hog confinement was more than an odor problem. It affected property values, poisoned ground water, polluted air, and overall amounted to a new health hazard for rural residents. This is where Seber’s favorite box 24 of the collection comes into play. Spencer built a network of Iowans experiencing this pollution and a network of scientists studying it. She lobbied for regulations that would limit hog odor and animal waste; her efforts were mostly unsuccessful.

Seber says Spencer’s 1970s activism is part of a larger pattern that tends to go in cycles. In the 1970s and 1990s there were movements that really pushed for regulations on CAFOS. He’s found similar headlines in both eras and similar outcomes. He posits that this is partly due to neoliberal businesses that capture the process when activists try to use, as Spencer did, government hearings and studies to build their cases. But this isn’t the only problem, in some cases hog manure storage needs increase more quickly than regulations can keep up with, and some people still don’t view agriculture as an industry, which thwarts regulatory efforts.

After his fruitful research in Iowa, Seber will work on writing his next chapter, tentatively called “A Plain Old Cesspool: Concentrating Animal Life in Neoliberal Iowa,” and then turn his focus to North Carolina, another state with large scale hog operations. He hopes to complete his dissertation and degree in 2023.

Are you interested in applying for the Linda and Richard Kerber Fund for Research in the Iowa Women’s Archives? We will be accepting applications again next spring. You can keep tabs on the deadline and learn more on our website.

Feb 25 2021

What Would You Attempt to Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail?

Posted on February 25, 2021 by Anna Holland

This post is by IWA Graduate Assistant Erik Henderson

Taking a risk can be one of the most difficult things you must do. However, how would it feel knowing that you cannot fail no matter what you do? One thing that holds us back in life is our clouded judgment when making a major move. Mary Grefe pushed herself and others to go for things they want and dream big by creating opportunities for young women to branch out into technical and scientific careers.

Mary Arlene Cruikshank Grefe was an educator, social activist, politician, and businesswoman. Grefe grew up on her family’s farm in the Algona area and graduated from Morningside College with a B.A. in English and Speech in January 1943. Grefe had been active in the women’s movement for many years through her involvement with the Educational Foundation of the American Association of University Women (AAUW).

Grefe was the national president of the AAUW from 1979 to 1981 and the AAUW Educational Foundation president. A few years prior, Grefe published articles relating to adult education, leadership techniques, the women’s movement, and a leadership manual with Claire Fulcher titled Techniques for Organizational Effectiveness (1973).

Grefe’s 1994 speech “What Would You Attempt to Do if You Knew You Could Not Fail?”

Within the Mary Grefe papers, there is a speech titled “What Would You Attempt To Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail?” She gave the speech for Career Conference, “The Road Less Traveled,” on October 13th, 1994, because Iowa State University (where the conference was hosted) wanted to break the stereotype that young women had to get pushed down a path of “gendered work.” She said they could cross over into other fields as well with a little “self-esteem and confidence…a person with self-esteem and confidence is halfway to any goal” The point of the speech for Grefe was to push back against the idea of gendered work while suggesting that young women can build a career in fields like math and science.

Many people, myself included, do not want to take risks because they are worried about what other people will think about them, and they stay in their comfort zone. Grefe stated, “as parents, we have to encourage our children to get out of the comfort zone. When your child fell off the bike the first time, did you say soothingly, it is too hard for you, let’s put the bike away and go back to the same and comforting tricycle? You know that you did not.” Grefe’s example of a young child trying to ride a bike for the first time and falling shows us we need to be consistent in the endeavors we are pursuing. We cannot give up or quit the first time we try something new because it does not go our way. What we should do is “remember that we are role models. Someone is watching to see how we handle crises.” Every day we are faced with temptation and fear. For young women and men coming up, they need a person to look to for motivation when things get tough. Having that role model works as a refresher to know that you can slip, but you will be able to get back up to keep going!

Though Grefe was committed to progressing the women’s movement, she was just as committed to education. In her early career, she taught high school, a junior college, then served twelve years on the Des Moines school board, twice as president. In 1972, President Richard Nixon appointed her as his personal representative to the UNESCO World Conference on Adult Education in Tokyo, Japan. President Gerald Ford appointed her to the National Advisory Council on Adult Education beginning in 1974 and was its chair in 1976. Grefe was inducted into the Iowa Women’s Hall of Fame in 1980.

Dec 01 2020

Edna Griffin, Civil Rights Activist

Posted on December 1, 2020April 14, 2021 by Anna Holland

This post is the tenth installment in our series highlighting African American history in the collections of the Iowa Women’s Archives. The series ran weekly during Black History Month, and will continue monthly for the remainder of 2020.

This past summer, we have seen a nationwide movement for change. In Iowa City, Philadelphia, Chicago, Seattle, and elsewhere, peaceful protests have faced backlash from citizens and the police. People seeking change today might be interested in Edna Griffin, who led a boycott of the Katz Drug Store in Des Moines, Iowa, in 1948 and pushed persistently for what she knew was right, even at personal risk. Born in Kentucky in 1909, Griffin attended Fisk University and moved to Des Moines with her husband in 1947. The Edna Griffin Papers, preserved in the Iowa Women’s Archives, include documents relating to the successful 1948 lawsuit against the Katz Drug Store – State vs. Des Moines – which are richly supplemented by Griffin’s 400-page FBI file that provides insight into an otherwise sparsely documented life of activism. You can view these documents in the Iowa Digital library.

During the 1940s, the United States remained a largely segregated country. Although Iowa had laws against segregation, they were not consistently enforced. Iowa’s first civil rights law was passed in 1884 to outlaw discrimination in “inns, public conveyances, barber shops, theaters, and other places of public amusement,” the law was rarely enforced. In 1892, the law was modified to include “restaurants, chophouses, lunch counters and all other places where refreshments are served.” Still with no practical enforcement mechanism, over the next 30 years, Iowa’s supreme court determined only three cases based on the civil rights law. Due to a strenuous effort by the Des Moines branch of the NAACP, the law was amended again in 1923 so that violations could be heard by a local magistrate rather than a grand jury.

Protestors picketed Katz Drug Store after its proprietor refused to serve Black customers.

On July 7, 1948, Edna Griffin, John Bibbs, Leonard Hudson and Griffin’s infant daughter, Phyllis, entered Katz Drug Store at the intersection of 7th and Locust streets in Des Moines. Hudson needed to make a purchase, so Griffin and Bibbs decided to sit at the lunch counter to order ice cream sundaes. A waitress came over, took their orders, then proceeded to fulfill them. In the process, “a young white man came and whispered a message into her ear” (Lawrence, 2008, p. 298). After this, the party was told that Katz’s lunch counter didn’t serve “colored” customers. The encounter resulted in a criminal case, a prolonged court battle, and a boycott of Katz Drug Store. During it all, Katz and his defenders tried to portray Griffin as disruptive and stirring up trouble rather than as a woman who had been denied her rights under Iowa law. You can read more about the Katz boycott in the article by Noah Lawrence, “Since it is my right, I would like to have it: Edna Griffin and the Katz Drug Store Desegregation Movement” published in the Annals of Iowa.

Edna Griffin’s activism eventually earned her fame and respect, but at the time, she was not universally lauded. Her FBI files, gathered between 1945 and 1967, are a testimony to the skepticism and derision she confronted on a daily basis. Only later was she recognized for her contribution to civil rights in Iowa. She was inducted into the Iowa Women’s Hall of Fame in 1985 and the Iowa African Americans’ Hall of Fame in 1999. You can also see her featured in Katy Swalwell’s 2018 picture book, Amazing Iowa Women.

Oct 14 2020

From Alabama to the Barrio: Ernest Rodriguez and the Fight Against Racism in Iowa

Posted on October 14, 2020December 9, 2020 by Heather Cooper

This post by IWA Graduate Research Assistant Heather Cooper is the ninth installment in our series highlighting African American history in the collections of the Iowa Women’s Archives. The series ran weekly during Black History Month, and will continue monthly for the remainder of 2020.

In honor of Latinx Heritage Month (September 15 – October 15), this post draws attention to an individual and family history that sheds light on the intersection of Black and Latinx experience and activism in Iowa.

In recognition of his lifelong activism for the causes of labor, education, and civil and human rights, Ernest Rodriguez was inducted into the second Iowa Latino Hall of Fame in 2018. Beginning in the 1950s, Rodriguez helped to organize the Davenport council of the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC). In the 1960s and 70s, he served on the Davenport Human Relations Commission, served as director of the Area Board for Migrants, and as coordinator of the Spanish Speaking Peoples Commission. As a union organizer and advocate for workers’ rights, he co-chaired the Quad City Grape Boycott Committee to support the nationwide boycott of California table grapes led by Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta. Although Rodriguez identifies strongly with his Chicano heritage, his own experience growing up in an interracial family undoubtedly informs his broader commitment to fighting against the racism, discrimination, and inequality shared by Latinos, African Americans, and other minorities in Iowa and the U.S.

“Spanish-Speaking Program coordinator named here,” The Target (Published in the interest of employees at Rock Island Arsenal) vol. 13, no. 14, July 25, 1975.

The Ernest Rodriguez papers are part of a rich set of collections in the Iowa Women’s Archives (IWA) that include letters, speeches, diaries, photographs, and over eighty oral histories documenting the experience of Latina women and their families and communities in Iowa. A large selection of that material is available in the Iowa Digital Library. These collections also inform the IWA website, Migration is Beautiful, a digital humanities project that “highlights the journeys Latinas and Latinos made to Iowa and situates the contributions of Latino communities within a broader understanding of Iowa’s history of migration and civil rights.” IWA also holds the papers of Ernest Rodriguez’s older sister, Estefania Joyce Rodriguez, who was also a member of the Davenport LULAC council and a great chronicler of her family’s history through the preservation of photographs.

Ernest Rodriguez was born in 1928 in the predominately Mexican settlement known as “Holy City” in Bettendorf, Iowa. His father, Norberto Rodriguez, was raised on a small ranch in the State of Jalisco, Mexico; his mother, Muggie Belva Adams Rodriguez, was an African American woman born in Balls Play, Alabama. Both migrated north and, eventually, to Iowa in pursuit of new opportunities in the 1910s. Following the death of her first husband, Muggie Adams ran a boardinghouse in the predominately African American town of Buxton, Iowa, catering primarily to “miners and Mexican laborers who worked as section hands on the railroad.” It was there that she met Norberto Rodriguez, who she married in 1920. The couple and their growing family settled in Bettendorf, Iowa in 1923.

Muggie Adams Rodriguez with children gathered around pump, Bettendorf, Iowa, 1924.

Muggie and Noberto Rodriguez outside with daughter, Nestora Rivera, Buxton, Iowa, circa 1918.

Ernest Rodriguez was part of an extended interracial family that included his mother and father, eight siblings, relatives in Mexico, and the families of his maternal aunt and uncle, Monroe Milton Adams, Jr. and Adaline Adams (known as “Aunt Tiny”). Rodriguez described his mother as being “of a very light complexion with mixed African American, White, and Native American Indian bloods.” Growing up in Iowa, Rodriguez recalled the way his mother’s cooking blended all of these cultures. She made Mexican rice and fideo, cornbread and cobblers, chitterlings, posole, and “fried Indian bread.” This she fed to her family, as well as to the needy men and women that came their way during the Great Depression. Both Ernest and Estefania Rodriguez recalled their mother’s generosity and the fact that “She never looked down on anybody.” Witnessing her struggles with poverty and racism, they both saw her as a model of independence, determination, and perseverance.

Members of the Rodriguez family, Davenport, Iowa, August 1955.

The Holy City barrio where Ernest Rodriguez was born was a working-class, mostly Mexican community which offered sparse accommodations to workers in the Bettendorf Company’s foundries. Although most of Holy City’s residents were Mexican immigrants by the 1920s, a few Greeks and African Americans also lived there. Latinos and African Americans shared many experiences in Iowa, including racial stereotyping; limited employment opportunities that often relegated men to the most dangerous, low-paying work and women to domestic service; housing discrimination; and segregation in churches, movie theaters, barbershops, and schools. When the Rodriguez family moved to Davenport, Iowa in the late 1930s, they immediately faced a petition campaign organized by white residents who wanted to drive them out of the neighborhood. Rodriguez recalled,

I remember that it was then I began to really know what prejudice and discrimination meant, because I felt it all around me. The kids in the neighborhood were all white and when they got mad at you, they [hurled racial insults]. As I grew older I found out that there were certain places you couldn’t get a job because of employment discrimination. Certain taverns and restaurants you avoided for the same reason. You were more likely to be stopped for questioning by the police. It seemed that a disproportionate number of minorities were arrested and convicted for crimes than whites. This is true today.

Although much of Ernest Rodriguez’s activism has focused on issues that impact Chicano communities in particular, he has also operated from an understanding of the shared oppression faced by all minorities living under systemic racism. Rodriguez was a Chairman and leading member of the Minority Coalition, which he described as “a banding together of organizations such as NAACP and LULAC whose aims are to work for the betterment of the black and Chicano (Mexican-American) Communities.” He challenged the racism and classism that undergirded the education system, not only for ESL students, but for all “Children of minority groups [who] are victims of discriminatory middle-class thinking.” As a leader in LULAC Council 10, he nurtured a strong relationship with Davenport’s League for Social Justice and the Catholic Interracial Council as they worked to combat racism and demand equal access to housing and employment. And as a member of the Davenport Human Relations Commission he worked to address “race discrimination in housing, employment, and education” and developed a police-community relations program meant to challenge the racist treatment of Chicano and African American citizens by police in the Quad Cities. Rodriguez was also an early feminist, noting in a 1970s radio broadcast that Chicano women, like African American women, faced “the double discrimination of race and gender.”

Article discusses Davenport police seminars and other work of the Human Relations Commission. “Seek Joint Rights Executive,” Davenport Times-Democrat, December 10, 1968.

Even after he retired from his position as Equal Employment Manager at the Rock Island Arsenal in the 1990s, Ernest Rodriguez remained active in the Davenport LULAC council and regularly wrote opinion pieces published in local newspapers about racial justice. He stands as an example of the power of community activism and the impact of local leaders who relentlessly work to promote social justice at the local, state, and national level. Ernest Rodriguez’s life and activism also illuminate the longstanding presence and contributions of Latinos and African Americans to the Hawkeye state, as well as our long history of racism.

Latinx history is Iowa history.

Black history is Iowa history.

The ongoing fight for racial justice is Iowa history.

References:

Omar Valerio-Jimenez, “Racializing Mexican Immigrants in Iowa’s Early Mexican Communities,” Annals of Iowa, vol. 75, no. 1 (Winter 2016): 1-46.

Janet Weaver, “From Barrio to ¡Boicoteo!: The Emergence of Mexican American Activism in Davenport, 1917-1970,” Annals of Iowa, vol. 68, no. 3 (Summer 2009): 215-254.

Iowa Women’s Archives, Migration is Beautiful, http://migration.lib.uiowa.edu/, October 14, 2020.

Sep 14 2020

Reuben Gaines Memoir of Being Black in Buxton, Iowa

Posted on September 14, 2020October 6, 2020 by Anna Holland

This post by IWA Graduate Assistant, Erik Henderson, is the eighth installment in our series highlighting African American history in the Iowa Women’s Archives collections. The series ran weekly during Black History Month, and will continue monthly for the remainder of 2020.

The once prosperous coal mining town, Buxton, Iowa, approximately thirty minutes southwest of Oskaloosa was the home of hardworking Black citizens from the Virginia to immigrants from Sweden and Slovakia. The Reuben Gaines memoir from the Frances Hawthorne collection details wise anecdotes, notable events such as Madame C.J. Walker visiting Buxton and the rise and fall of this ghost town. The memoir was donated to the Iowa Women’s Archives by Hawthorne in 2003, a part of research material on Buxton to uncover the history of Black Iowans. Some of the stories shared by Reuben Gaines Jr will not only entertain you with their delivery, tone, and descriptiveness, but give readers a diverse depiction of the town’s people and a vision for what life could be like without biases.

A crowd in front of the African Methodist Episcopal Church of Buxton, Iowa (date unknown). Frances Hawthorne papers, Iowa Women’s Archives

Black Americans being the majority populace of Buxton, coexisting alongside White Americans, with no true sense of segregation or discrimination made this town noteworthy. In the 1905 census, the town boasted about the community having 2,700 Black Americans and 1,991 White Americans. Buxton was founded in 1873 by the Consolidation Coal Company (CCC) that worked for the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad. Benjamin Buxton was the namesake of and main planner of the town of Buxton, then he took over as superintendent from his father, John Buxton, in 1896 until 1909.

The town thrived in its early days on the high demand for coal. Buxton’s community members enjoyed their days off by being together. Parades and large groups of people between Monroe Mercantile Store and the YMCA was something of the norm. Gaines remembers the good times they had at parties on weekends “on this Saturday night we had planned a party with music; dancing with card playing with a prize being contributed to the best Bridge Playing couple (21).” Then later reflects on one occasion a young fellow, Scottie Bolton, took on the nickname “the human fly (25)” after climbing to the top of the YMCA building with no ladder or support.

Black and white children learned together in Mrs. Minnie B. London’s class at Sixth Street School in Buxton, 1907 – 1908. Frances Hawthorne papers, Iowa Women’s Archives

The life expectancy of the miners was shortened due to days being long and dangerous. However, to the citizens of Buxton, the risk was worth the reward. When Reuben first began work at the CCC, he got a piece of steel struck in his right eye and “every time I would lower the lid of my eye, it would scrape and cut going up or down (26).” Gaines Jr. later got it removed in Albia, a town not too far from Buxton, because no one in Buxton wanted that responsibility.

Along with the various tales, Gaines Jr described the range of personalities you would find in Buxton. In a way, it highlighted the members of upper-class while recognizing that they faced conflicts as well. There was tension between the CCC and a prominent inventor of Buxton named Jackson Brookins, Gaines expounded on the friction between the two, “he discovered something that science was unfamiliar with at this time…It was not long before he had a miniature locomotive and Railroad cars and was known as ‘the Jackson Brookins Train Control’…The engine had yellow; green and red lights that came on automatically according to its proximity to other trains in the same block.” Ultimately, the failed negotiation between the two parties resulted in the CCC backing out, taking the blueprints, and stealing Brookins invention without compensation. A lesson that I took from that experience is not to necessarily trust everyone with your goals because you never know the intentions.

On a lighter note, the description of what life was like for those of different socio-economic backgrounds was most riveting.

For Gaines, who moved from a deserted coal mining town to Buxton, the thought of his new community becoming a ghost town set in as a reality once people began moving out. Though, Buxton had it struggles, people from all walks of life were able to live together in harmony. But by 1919, the population dwindled down to about 400 people and around 1927 is when the last mine in Buxton closed. The lack of demand for coal due to the change in machinery drove people out of Buxton and into neighboring mining towns or segregated communities such as Waterloo and Des Moines. In those segregated communities is when Black Buxton community members witnessed the horrendous nature of racism and discrimination. The importance of remembering and acknowledging these lived experiences like Reuben Gaines’ in Buxton gets us one step closer to consider where we could be if we had the right vision of human relations.

Jul 29 2020

Before the Vote: Black Women’s Political Activism in Iowa

Posted on July 29, 2020December 22, 2021 by Heather Cooper

This post by IWA Graduate Research Assistant Heather Cooper is the seventh installment in our series highlighting African American history in the collections of Iowa Women’s Archives and other local repositories. The series ran weekly during Black History Month, and will continue monthly for the remainder of 2020.

The State Historical Society of Iowa holds rich collections on the history of Black women in Iowa, notably the records of the Iowa Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs. A small fraction of those materials were digitized in 2010 to include in the Women’s Suffrage in Iowa Digital Collection. This blog post highlights that digitized material, but we hope that once the pandemic has subsided, you will be inspired to visit the State Historical Society to see what else makes up this remarkable collection. The physical records contain material related to over sixty years of club business, including two scrapbooks filled with meeting programs, photographs, newspaper clippings, and correspondence. You can read more about these records here.

2020 marks the 100^th anniversary of the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, granting women the right to vote. It also marks the 150^th anniversary of the passage of the Fifteenth Amendment (1870), which granted universal suffrage to African American men, but not women, following emancipation and the Civil War. In the years between 1870 and 1920, women across the nation continued to fight for the right to vote and worked to actively demonstrate their fitness for the full rights of citizenship. This post considers the ways that African American women in Iowa contributed to that struggle through their participation and activism in the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs, founded in 1902. When this group became affiliated with the National Association of Colored Women’s Clubs (NACW) in 1910, African American women in Iowa joined a nationwide network of over 10,000 Black clubwomen, committed to “Lifting as we climb” and demonstrating to “an ignorant and suspicious world that our aims and interests are identical with those of all good aspiring women.”

Gertrude Rush, Sue Brown, and Helena Downey all served as Presidents of the Iowa Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs in the 1910s.

The Women’s Suffrage in Iowa Digital Collection includes digital copies of the Proceedings from several annual meetings of the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs. Annual meetings were held in cities across the state and brought together officers, delegates, and club members to hear reports on club business, listen to speeches and papers, and pass resolutions that signaled their commitment to particular projects. The meeting records included in the Iowa Digital Library represent just a handful of the Proceedings that are part of the Iowa Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs records at the State Historical Society. Dr. Denise Pate Spruill, who earned her Ph.D. in History from University of Iowa in 2018, conducted extensive research in these records for her dissertation, “‘From the Tub to the Club:’ Black Women and Activism in the Midwest, 1890-1920.” Spruill argues that, “In the upper Midwest, clubs and early community activism served as a conduit for black women, providing a venue for them to hone their organizational skills, create networks, recruit members and develop programs to aid in racial uplift, increasing their authority and power as women in their communities.” There is much to explore in the digitized Proceedings, but this post highlights just three examples of how African American women in Iowa used the club movement to perform and display their fitness for citizenship.

First, women used the annual meetings to practice and demonstrate their speaking skills and their ability to grapple with important issues. In her study of Black clubwomen in Iowa, Spruill notes that delivering speeches, reading papers, and leading discussions at such meetings “prepared these women to be more engaged in social, economic and political discussions” more broadly. Members wrote and spoke about a wide range of topics, including education, social ethics, and the importance of Black men and women’s service and support during the Great War (as World War I was known at the time). Women also discussed the vote directly with arguments about “Why Women Should Vote” and “What [the] Negro Race owes to Its Women.”

Just a few of the presentations made at the Eleventh Annual Session of the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs, held in Sioux City, Iowa, in 1912

Second, women in the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs engaged political candidates and elected officials directly, despite their own exclusion from the polls. In 1912, at the 11^th annual meeting, held in Sioux City, club members voted to endorse George H. Woodson’s candidacy for state representative from Monroe County. Woodson was a prominent African American lawyer, a leader of the Black Republican Party in Iowa, and the first African American in the state’s history to be nominated to the state legislature. As part of their endorsement, members pledged “to him our influence and support as a brother and friend and we hereby offer him our active aid at the primaries and on election day, and we urge the colored women and men of Iowa and of Monroe county to stand by him as the Haytians stood by Tousant LaOverture [sic] in the days of olden times.” They noted further, “we believe Mr. Woodson will represent the county, in the very best way, and fight for Women’s rights.” This endorsement and the call for Black women’s active political engagement demonstrated that despite their exclusion from casting their own ballots, clubwomen were invested in the political landscape, had the power to influence public opinion, and wanted to support candidates who had the interests of women and African Americans at heart. In this and other instances, the group pointed to the history of Black participation in fights for independence (as in the Haitian and American revolutions) as a demonstration of their capacity and their fitness for citizenship.

Program excerpt from Proceedings of the Eleventh Annual Session of the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs, Sioux City, Iowa, 1912

Finally, African American clubwomen used their voices and political influence to demand that white public officials take a stand against lynching and racial violence. Following a visit from journalist and activist Ida B. Wells in 1894, Black women in Des Moines formed an anti-lynching organization. Over time, the Iowa State Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs passed public resolutions condemning lynching and mob violence, worked “to arouse public sentiment” on the issue, and advocated for anti-lynching legislation. At the 14^th annual meeting in Cedar Rapids in 1915, the group praised local officials who they had pressured to take action in “eliminating the pictures which are objectionable to the Afro-Americans of the state.” They were referring to the “souvenir” postcards of lynchings that were common in the early twentieth century. These brutal scenes of racial violence and white spectatorship had apparently been disseminated in Iowa, including in Cedar Rapids and Des Moines. Denise Pate Spruill argues that, for Black clubwomen in Iowa, 1915-1920 was a critical period during which “Long-time anti-lynching activism evolved from passing organizational resolutions to taking a successful public stance against the dissemination of murderous images that resulted in a direct response from an elected official.”

These examples illustrate some of the ways that Black clubwomen built political skills and exercised political influence long before they gained access to the full privileges of citizenship. Do you want to know more about how these and other Iowa women campaigned for the ballot directly? Take a look at the rest of the annual meeting records – and other primary sources – in the Women’s Suffrage in Iowa Digital Collection. Thank you to the State Historical Society of Iowa for helping us share these remarkable records and to Dr. Denise Pate Spruill for providing a rich historical context for the Proceedings. All images in this post are from the Iowa Association of Colored Women’s Clubs records, 1903-1972, Special Collections, State Historical Society of Iowa, Des Moines.

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