by Linda Harris Sittig

It may be hard for younger American women to truly appreciate the Herculean task that Carol Green undertook in the mid-1970s.
But I do.
I clearly remember, as a newlywed in 1973, applying for my first credit card. It was from Sears, Roebuck. I filled out the application, mailed it off, and waited for the card. When it came, it was written under the name of Mrs. Sittig, only my married name, my identity with my husband, not my full name. I remember the feeling of disappointment. But I was a newly married woman, and apparently, my husband’s name carried more credence than mine alone. I shrugged off the feeling and used the card.
Then, in 1975, with a B.A. in History and an M.Ed. in Education under my belt, I decided to enter a Ph.D. program at a university in Washington, D.C. I filled out the application and then came to the last page. For a married woman, this university required the husband’s signature as a form of permission. This time, I wasn’t disappointed; I was furious. I switched my intentions elsewhere.
By the 1980s, when I decided I wanted my own checking account, in addition to our combined account, I should have written a thank-you note to Carol Green. Before her groundbreaking fight, married American women could not open an independent bank account or apply for a bank loan without the co-signature of a male family member. Under the old coverture laws, when a woman married, her property now belonged to her husband. Property, including money.
In the mid-1970s, Carol Green was already the CEO of a highly successful local franchise business. Weight Watchers. You may have heard of it 😊, but she could not get a loan from any bank in Colorado without her husband co-signing, despite the passage of the 1974 Equal Credit Opportunity Act. She did not cave to disappointment; instead, she sought support from other business-minded women she knew in Denver, and together they opened the first women’s bank in Colorado.
In 1976, this group of ten women had put up $1,000 each and applied for permission to open The Women’s Bank. The individuals were: Wendy W. Davis, Loretta Norgren, Leslie Friedman Davis, Betty Sue Freedman, Beverly A. (Martinez) Grall, Barbara Grall, Barbara Welch Sudler, Edna Mosley, Judith Foster, and Carol Green. Each woman was valued for her individual expertise, and together they were a formidable force.
Of course, they ran into challenges; they had traversed a four-year gauntlet of paperwork before securing a national bank charter. And it was a gamble – would the Denver female population support them in their novel endeavor? When the bank opened on the morning of July 14, 1978, the group must have held its breath. But, within the early morning hours, a line of women stretched down the street, waiting for the doors to open. Some women came with a substantial deposit; others came with folded dollar bills taken out of their kitchen coffee cans. But they came, and when the bank closed after that first day, the deposits totaled $1 million. A lot of money in 1978 – the equivalent of $4.97 million today. Not bad.
The impact of The Women’s Bank in Denver was built on earlier attempts in other states to secure a bank where women could participate in their own finances, such as The First Woman’s Bank in Clarksville, Tennessee, which opened to women in 1919. But it was absorbed by a larger bank in 1926. And think of Maggie Lena Walker, the first African American self-made millionaire who started the St. Luke’s Penny Saving Bank in 1903.
The Women’s Bank in Denver, though, was one of the first commercial banks that was successfully owned and run by a group of women. The gift of Carol Green and the other women who tirelessly championed women’s financial opportunities is that they were fighting for women’s financial independence and economic equality. They knew they were attempting to smash a glass ceiling.
While we may be able to secure a loan, open a bank account, and manage our own finances today, American women still earn only 83 cents for every dollar men earn.
I recently found a letter my mother wrote to me shortly after my wedding. In it, she tells me to get my own checking account, separate from my husband, so I can control some of my own money. The date is August 1973. I smile, thinking how much my mother would have loved to have met Carol Green.
If you enjoyed Carol’s story and are not yet a follower of this blog, please sign up on the right-hand sidebar. The blog will appear in your email inbox once a month. Then, forward the blog to a friend, or better yet, several friends.
Wishing everyone a healthy, happy, and prosperous new year.
linda:)
Author of Cut from Strong Cloth, Last Curtain Call, Counting Crows, B-52 DOWN, and Opening Closed Doors. And soon…Chasing the Tides.








