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Updated: June 11, 2025
Bills were posted advertising this "historical event" far and wide in every post office, and country store, in mills, gin houses, and at every crossroad in the county. Co-Citizens' Mass Meeting Great Historical Event! At Jordantown Hall, July 4th, 3:00 p. m. Speeches by Prominent Leaders of the Movement! Announcement of Election Plans! Everybody invited!
A set of crazy women dictating to men. What is reason?" shouted the furious little merchant as he rushed from the room. The domestic atmosphere of Jordantown from one end to the other was charged with thunderstorm possibilities. The wives of all the citizens were attending hurriedly to their household affairs, and then attending to other affairs which were not household.
Jordantown is one of those old Southern communities large enough to have "corporations," a mayor and council, but small enough for members of "the best families" not to speak to members of other "best families." Everybody had "feelings" and they showed them, especially if they were not agreeable.
The scene which Jordantown presented by the 1st of June is as difficult to describe the mere physical changes as it is to interpret these changes. The square was practically deserted; the Acres Mercantile Company was not even able to hold its country trade. Every farmer made straight for the Women's Coöperative Store.
No one ever called upon Sarah, and she never made visits. Now every one came. They listened to the maid's story. All the little boys in town were looking for the canary. They never found it. "I told you so!" sniffled the maid. On the day of the funeral all the business houses in Jordantown were closed. It was as if a Sabbath had dropped down in the middle of the week.
So far as any one knew in Jordantown, she permitted herself only one luxury: this was a canary bird, not yellow, but green. It was a very old bird, as canaries go. Somebody once said: "Old Sarah's making her canary last as long as possible!"
These were undoubtedly the same women who had passed at four o'clock on their way to the Civic League and Cemetery Association. Every man in the streets recognized them. Yet they were not the same. They did not return salutations. For the first time the men were ignored, not exactly snubbed, but literally not seen by the women in Jordantown.
And as he trod his measure, his right fist shot out at regular intervals, each time nearer and nearer the Judge's nose, and with each motion the Colonel sent forth that ear-splitting yell which had not been heard in Jordantown since a Confederate regiment charged a Federal division there in 1864. Bob Sasnett was the first to reach the scene.
She was one of those faint whispers of femininity who missed the ears of mankind and who faded into the sigh of widowhood without attracting the least attention. She was simply the "relic" of William J. Mosely, who at the time of his death was the richest man in Jordantown. And by the same token, after his death, Sarah became the richest woman. She had no children, no relatives.
Darndest piece of impudence I ever saw in my life!" "Maybe they'll tell us what their rickrack political platform is, too!" said another farmer. Nevertheless, they all went to Jordantown on the appointed day. It was their custom to go, and they were determined that this woman foolishness should not interfere with their long-established habit of celebrating the Fourth. The sun rose blistering hot.
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