Why Are You Weeping, Sister?

Prologue

Prologue

November 7, 1909 Washington, DC

The double doors at the rear of the Congressional Chambers swung wide. In the doorway stood a young woman, wearing a heliotrope walking suit embroidered with green leaves, with a wide veiled hat. The sergeant at arms offered his arm to the girl, escorted her down the long aisle, and directed her to the long table opposite the assembled members of the Committee. He picked up a Bible from the table and held it as she took the oath.

She took her seat, lifted her veil, unpinned her hat to expose her mass of auburn hair, then placed it on the table beside her. She folded her hands in front of her, and turned her attention to the six men seated at the raised dais before her.

Some of the men seated on the dais looked skeptical. Congressman Mann had insisted they take her testimony. What could this child know about the subject under investigation? Charles Fairbanks, President of the Senate, was doubtful this panel would be productive at all. But Mann was a power to be reckoned with in 1909. Congressman Daniels from the Public Health Committee was on the panel, along with Shelby Collum from Foreign Relations. Mann had insisted that both senators and congressmen join the panel. Fairbanks wasn't happy about it, and had warned those two worthies they should respect their place and remain silent unless expressly called upon.

Mr. Fairbanks gestured to Congressman Mann to begin deposing this girl he named as his star witness. "Miss Graham, welcome to Washington. I don't want to waste the panel's time by asking a lot of foolish questions. Why don't we get right to it, and you tell us your story, in your own words?"

Gwendolyn Graham poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, took a deep draught of the tepid liquid, then drew a deep breath. This wasn't something she ever planned to do. Talking to Congressman Mann and Congressman Raynor in their offices was one thing. She had Mrs. Addams from Hull House, or Mrs. Warren with her, and Mr. Connelly was there to ask her questions. Now she had to just tell her story as best she could, and hope she got it right. She had to try her best to address the men on dais correctly. Mr. Connelly had gone over it with her, but she was so nervous everything just seemed to fly out of her mind.

She began haltingly, hoping if she made a mistake they'd forgive her. "Thank you. Mr. President, Senators, Congressmen, my name is Violet Gwendolyn Graham. I was born outside of Reisterstown, on my father's farm. We raised draft horses and tobacco. My last happy memory there was just before my fifteenth birthday..."